Slade Baron's Bride

by Sandra Marton

  Slade’s heartbeat stumbled.

  There she was. His wife. His beautiful, beloved wife. She was standing at the window, staring out at the night, with Michael, asleep, in her arms.

  He took a deep breath and thought of all the times in his life when he’d known that what he said next might change the future. The first time he’d stood up to his old man. The time he’d talked his way into college, and then into grad school. Turning points in his life, all of them…but nothing, compared to this.

  If he lost Lara, he lost everything.

  Slowly he started toward her, trying feverishly to work out what he’d say. I made a terrible mistake. Can you forgive me? Will you give me another chance?

  But when she swung toward him, as if she’d sensed his presence, and he saw the anguish in her eyes, his apology flew out of his head.

  “Lara.” His voice broke. “Lara, I love you. I need you. I can’t imagine my life without you. I was wrong about everything. Sugar, I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry I hurt you…”

  His words stumbled to a halt. He’d lost her. He could see it in the way she just stood there, looking at him, her eyes empty of everything but pain.

  A cold hand seemed to tighten around his heart.

  “I love you,” he said softly. “I’ve loved you all along, ever since that day in Denver. Do you remember? You thought I was just another guy, hitting on you, and maybe I was—but then I kissed you and I was lost.”

  He paused, waiting for her to speak, but she was still silent. Slade took a deep, deep breath.

  “I was afraid to admit it, even to myself. I didn’t believe in love, Sugar. I thought it was because of my father, and what I’d seen, growin’ up. I was afraid of how defenseless I’d be, if I ever gave away my heart.” His mouth curved into a rueful smile. “What I never figured was that I’d meet a woman who’d take my heart, whether I was ready to give it or not.” His smile faded. “Darlin’, please. Tell me you’ll give me another chance. Tell me you’ll come home with me, that you’ll let me spend my life provin’ my love to you.”

  “You broke my heart tonight,” Lara said softly.

  Slade clasped her shoulders. Between them, their son sighed in his sleep. “I know I did, darlin’. If I could go back, undo all that—”

  “I was planning a surprise for your birthday.” Her voice trembled. Tears rose in her eyes and turned them into glittering stars. “And then you walked in, and I was so happy to see you, and then you said—you said—”

  “I was wrong, Sugar. I know there’s nobody else for you, the same as there’s nobody else for me.”

  “There never was.” Lara looked at him through a spill of tears. “I’m not what you thought, Slade. There’s no long line of men in my past. As for what I did in Denver, agreeing to go that hotel with you—”

  “It was my doin’, sweetheart. I know that. I’m the one who talked you into it. I seduced you.”

  “I wanted you to.”

  Her smile was tremulous and teary, but he felt his heart leap with hope.

  “Did you?” he said softly.

  Lara nodded. “And it wasn’t because…” She looked down at their sleeping son, then up at Slade. “It wasn’t because I wanted a child. Oh, I did, I wanted a baby…but I went with you because of what I felt for you, Slade. I’d never felt that with another man, the sense that I’d—that I’d found a part of myself that had been missing, that now I would be—”

  “Complete.”

  “Yes. Complete.”

  They stood looking into each other’s eyes. After a long moment, Slade clasped Lara’s face in his hands. He smoothed his thumbs along her cheeks, stroking away her tears.

  “I love you. My heart and my soul are yours. And I want you to marry me.”

  Lara gave a watery laugh. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Mr. Baron? A license? A justice of the peace? A ceremony that took place almost two weeks ago?”

  “That doesn’t count. We did it for all the wrong reasons.” He smiled. “I want you to marry me again, Sugar, this time for all the right reasons. Because we love each other, and because our lives won’t be complete without each other.” His eyes searched hers. “Will you say yes?”

  Lara didn’t hesitate. “Yes,” she whispered, “oh, Slade, yes.”

  He kissed her, his mouth gentle on hers.

  “We’ll do the thing right, darlin’. At Espada, with my whole family lookin’ on. Me in a tux, you in a white gown and a veil.”

  “It sounds wonderful. But you don’t have to do this.” Lara lifted her hand and lay it against his cheek. “That ceremony in Baltimore—”

  “It was legal.” He grinned, and for the first time in hours, she could see the mischief dancing in his eyes. “Which means, my beautiful wife, that I don’t intend to let you out of any of your matrimonial obligations, just ’cause we’re gonna do this thing up right in a few weeks.”

  Lara grinned back at him. “Amazing, how that accent of yours just comes and goes.”

  They smiled at each other and then their smiles faded. Slade reached out and took Michael gently from Lara. He clasped his son in one arm and put the other around his wife.

  “Let’s go home,” he said softly.

  Tears of joy blurred Lara’s eyes. She rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to her husband’s lips.

  “Yes,” she said. “Let’s.”

  EPILOGUE

  THERE had never been a wedding at Espada before.

  Marta Baron smiled at her reflection in the mirror as she applied the last touches to her makeup and thought how remarkable it was that things could so quickly change.

  Just a little more than a month ago, her stepsons had come home to the ranch under duress. They hadn’t said so—they were fine young men and wouldn’t have wanted her to know how little they enjoyed returning to Espada—but Marta knew how they felt. And each had been troubled, as well.

  She smiled again.

  Now, on this brilliant summer afternoon, the house rang with their laughter, as well it should. There was nothing more joyous than a wedding. She said as much to Jonas, when he came up behind her and looked at her in the mirror.

  “Isn’t it lovely, having such a wonderful celebration at Espada?”

  Jonas nodded. “You and Catie did one heck of a job, all right.” He took something from his pocket. “Got a little somethin’ for you,” he said, and looped a diamond-and-emerald choker around his wife’s throat.

  Marta smiled and lay her hand over his. “It’s beautiful, Jonas. Thank you.”

  “Goes real nice with that there gown.”

  “Yes, it does. Good. I want to look just right. I’ve never been the stepmother of the groom before.”

  “You don’t look like nobody’s stepmother, gorgeous. Why, you don’t hardly look old enough to be my wife.”

  Marta turned around. “And you don’t look old enough to be the father of three married men,” she said as she tied his bow tie.

  Jonas chuckled. “Flatterer.”

  “Well, it’s true.” She sighed, gave a last pat to his tie and smiled up at him. “What a happy day this is! Gage and Natalie, back together again—”

  “And Natalie with a bun in the oven.”

  Marta rolled her eyes. “Such a delicate way of putting it, darling, but yes, it’s lovely that she’s pregnant. And Travis, with a wife—”

  “And Slade with not just a bride but a son.” Jonas looked past Marta, into the mirror, and smoothed back his hair. “Baby came a little early but what the heck, he’s a good-looking little guy. Got all the best Baron attributes.”

  “They’re nice girls, Lara and Alexandra. You’d think the two of them, and Natalie, had known each other all their lives.” Marta sighed. “Now, if Caitlin would just find a good man, and my daughters, too.”

  “Hell’s bells, woman, you got one weddin’ about to take place and here you are, already plannin’ more. Give ’em time, why don’t you? It’ll happen.” Jonas turned her to face him. “No
w, gimme a kiss, tell me again how I don’t look a day over sixty, and then let’s go down and greet our guests.”

  Marta smiled, rose on her toes and wound her slender arms around her husband’s neck.

  “You don’t look a day over thirty,” she whispered, and pressed her mouth to his.

  * * *

  Slade stared into the mirror in his old bedroom.

  “How do I look?” he said, for the tenth time.

  Gage and Travis looked at each other and tried not to laugh.

  “Handsome as sin,” Travis said solemnly.

  “Perfect,” Gage said, just as solemnly.

  “No, I’m serious. You don’t think this collar’s too tight? Or that this tie—”

  “You look wonderful,” Catie said, peeping into the room around the half-opened door. “Can I come in?”

  “And me?” Alexandra said, carrying Michael and following behind Caitlin.

  “Me, too,” Natalie said, and went straight into Gage’s welcoming arms.

  Travis smiled at Alex, thought how amazing it was that she’d married him, and drew her into a quiet corner.

  “Nice,” he said softly.

  She smiled back at him. “You, too, cowboy. I haven’t seen you in a tux in quite a while.”

  They both smiled at the shared memory of their first meeting and then Travis cleared his throat.

  “Actually,” he said, “it’s the, uh, the accessory I was referring to.”

  “The what?”

  “The accessory.” He smiled and touched the baby’s nose with his finger. Michael giggled, grabbed his uncle’s hand and dragged it into his mouth. “I was thinking…I was thinking how nice it might be if we had a baby.”

  “Were you?” Alex blushed. “That’s good. That you were thinking it, I mean. Because I was thinking it, too.”

  Travis bent his head and kissed his wife tenderly. “Sweetheart,” he whispered.

  “Darling Travis…”

  “Oh, yuck,” Caitlin said, laughing as she snatched her nephew from her sister-in-law’s arms. “Come on, Mikey. Let’s go find us a corner where everybody isn’t standing around being sappy.”

  She carried the baby out into the garden and took him from guest to guest, smiling as he gurgled and enthralled them all. A little while later, when the chamber orchestra on the lowest level of the waterfall deck began playing, she followed her musical cue and fell into the wedding processional along with both her sisters-in-law.

  At the altar, still holding Michael in her arms, surrounded now by her stepbrothers and Marta and Jonas, she felt a catch in her throat when she saw the look on Slade’s face as he watched Lara come toward him, radiant in a long, full gown of white lace, her strawberry-blond hair crowned by a coronet of white flowers.

  After the ceremony ended and the wedding party had gone on to mingle with the guests, Caitlin put her mouth to Michael’s ear.

  “You see, sweetie?” she whispered. “Your daddy and your mommy love each other so much that it makes me feel good just to look at them. It’s the same for your uncles and aunts.” Caitlin’s voice shook, ever so slightly. “They’re all happy, Mikey, because that’s what love does for some people. It makes them happy.”

  “Brrrp,” Michael said, and blew a bubble.

  “I agree with you, sweetie. Love—that man and woman stuff—is okay for them but it’s not for us. It’s just silly. The land. This land. That’s all that matters.”

  “Catie?”

  She looked up. “Slade,” she said brightly. She kissed him, kissed her new sister-in-law and handed Michael to his father. “It was a beautiful ceremony, you two. Just beautiful.”

  “Catie,” Slade said, “what’s wrong?”

  “Yeah,” a chorus of male voices said. Travis, Gage and Jonas surrounded the little group. “What’s the matter with you, girl?” Jonas said gruffly. “Don’t tell me you’re blub-berin’ over the sight of two people givin’ up their freedom, the way all these other darned-fool women are doin’.”

  Caitlin shook her head. “It’s the sun. It’s so bright, it just made my eyes tear, that’s all. I’m going to—to get a tissue…”

  She rushed away before anyone could stop her.

  “Now, what in blazes do you suppose that was all about?” Jonas said to his sons.

  “Espada,” Gage said. Everyone looked at him. “Don’t look at me as if I’m nuts. She was talking to the baby and I overheard her.” He shot a pointed look at Jonas. “She loves this place, and she knows it’ll never be hers.”

  Travis nodded. “Gage is right. That’s why Catie’s upset, Father.”

  Jonas frowned. “I know that, dammit. I jes’ wish the girl was my own flesh and blood.”

  Slade put his arm around Lara’s waist and drew her away. “Let them argue,” he said, and smiled at her. “I don’t give a hoot. Not today.” He kissed his son, riding in the crook of his arm, then kissed his bride. “I’m the happiest man alive, Mrs. Baron.”

  Lara lay her head against her husband’s shoulder. “And I’m the happiest woman.” After a moment, she sighed. “It’s not Espada.”

  “What’s not Espada?”

  “The reason your stepsister was crying.”

  Slade lifted an eyebrow. “What is it, then?”

  “She needs someone,” she said softly. “Someone to make her complete.”

  Slade frowned. “Little Catie?”

  Lara smiled. “Little Catie,” she said, and kissed Slade who was, and always would be, her heart and her soul.

  * * * * *

  Now, read on for a tantalizing excerpt of Dani Collins’ next book,

  CLAIMING HIS CHRISTMAS WIFE

  After their marriage ends in heartbreak, Travis never wants to see Imogen again. But to avoid a scandal they must agree to a temporary reconciliation—leaving Travis tempted to reclaim his wife…for good!

  Read on for a glimpse of

  CLAIMING HIS CHRISTMAS WIFE

  CHAPTER ONE

  “MR. TRAVIS SANDERS?”

  “YES,” he confirmed shortly, willing the woman to hurry to the point. His PA had interrupted a high-level meeting with this “extremely important” call. “What is this about?”

  “Imogen Gantry. She’s your wife?”

  Memory washed through him in a rush of heat and hunger. He tensed against it and glanced around, lowering his voice. That broken teacup had been swept firmly under the rug four years ago.

  “We’re divorced. Are you a reporter?”

  “I’m trying to locate her next of kin. I’m at…” She mentioned the name of one of New York’s most beleaguered public hospitals.

  Whatever old anger had sent him soaring at the mention of his ex-wife exploded in a percussive flash. He was blind. Falling. Wind whistling in his ears. Air moving too fast for him to catch a gulp.

  “What happened?” he managed to grit out. He was dimly aware his eyes were closed, but she was right there in front of him, laughing. Her green eyes glimmered with mischief. Her hair was a halo of flames licking at her snowy complexion. She swerved her lashes to cut him a glance. So enchantingly beautiful. Gaze clouding with arousal. Sparking with anger. Looking so wounded and vulnerable that last time he’d seen her, his heart still dipped thinking of it.

  He’d quickly learned it was a lie, but that didn’t make any of this easier to accept.

  Gone? He couldn’t make it fit in his head. He had told her he never wanted to see her again, but discovered he had secretly believed he would.

  From far away, he heard the woman say, “She collapsed on the street. She’s feverish and unconscious. Do you know of any medication we should be aware of? She’s awaiting treatment, but—”

  “She’s not dead?”

  He heard how that sounded, as if that was the outcome he would have preferred, but leave it to Imogen to set him up to believe one thing, contort his emotions to unbearable degrees, then send him flying in another direction. That betraying, manipulative—if he could get his hands on her,
he’d kill her himself.

  “And she was taken to that hospital? Why?”

  “I believe we were closest. She doesn’t seem to have a phone and yours is the only name I’ve been able to find in her bag. We need guidance on treatment and insurance. Are you able to provide that?”

  “Contact her father.” He walked back toward the door to his office, saying to his PA behind her desk, “Look up Imogen Gantry’s father. He’s in publishing. Maybe starts with a W. William?” He hadn’t met the man, only heard her mention him once or twice. Hell, they’d only been married fifteen minutes. He knew next to nothing about her.

  “Wallace Gantry?” His PA turned her screen. “He appears to have died a few months ago.” She pointed to the obit notice that said he was predeceased by his wife and eldest daughter, survived by his youngest daughter, Imogen.

  Perfect.

  He knew better than to let himself get sucked back into her orbit, but what else could he say except, “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  * * *

  Imogen remembered sitting down on the curb. It hadn’t been a nice, rain-washed boulevard of freshly mown grass beneath century-old elms with a stripe of sidewalk, then an empty canvas of manicured lawn to her mother’s rose garden, ending at the wide stairs to the double-door entrance of her childhood home.

  No, it had been a freezing, filthy inner-city curb where the piles of snow had turned to a layer of lumpy muck atop a century’s worth of chewing gum and other disgusting things. The damp chill on the air hadn’t squelched any of the terrible smells coming off the grate at her feet. She shouldn’t have touched the post she had braced herself against and she had thought a car would likely run over her legs as she sank down. At the very least, one would drown her with a tsunami of melt from the puddles.

  She hadn’t cared. The side of her head had felt like it was twice as big as the rest. Her ear, plugged and aching, had begun screaming so loud the sound had been trying to come out her mouth.

  She had tried to pretend she didn’t have an ear infection because those were for children. Her sister had got them, not her. She hadn’t gone swimming recently. She hadn’t known how it could have happened, but there she’d been like a damned toddler, nearly fainting with the agony of it, dizzy and hot and sick.