River Song (35 page)

"Then I best thank you for
savin
' her life again. I believe that's what you'll be doing for her if you take her away from here, and I want you to know how grateful I am. Please be careful
tho
, and take good care of my baby."

Extending his hands with a warm smile, Sean grasped Martha's wrinkled fingers, and vowed, "Thank you for your encouragement and understanding. Don't worry about Eileen. I intend to guard her with my life."

But when he said the words, he didn't know that was exactly what he would have to do.

 
CHAPTER
THIRTEEN

Cole punched his fist into the pillow,
then
drove his head into the resulting crater. Sleep eluded him, ducking into hidden tunnels like mice scurrying from the sharp eyes of a bird of prey.

That's exactly the way he felt, as if he possessed the beady, unblinking eyes of a hawk. He'd been staring up at the moonlit ceiling of his bedroom for what seemed like hours on end, his mind cluttered with chaotic thoughts. Staring hard, his brain mired in intense speculation, seeing nothing.

Now the trance was broken, and Cole seethed with frustration. He tried again and again to force sleep the way he could force a young calf to the ground for branding, but this night he was badly outweighed. With a heavy groan, he rolled over to his side and once again gave into his thoughts.

He would have to deal with his father in the morning. He would start slowly, not giving his father a chance to become upset, or to use his bad heart as a way of getting his own way or controlling the conversation. He would explain his plans for the future and make certain Nathan understood those plans did not include running the Triple F ranch. If his father was still with him, hadn't turned purple with rage or short of precious breath, he would continue on and explain about the herd he intended to raise on his own ranch. Nathan might even be impressed by the huge profits forecast for the unusual operation.

Surely the elder Fremont had seen the
direction cattle ranching was
turning in Arizona. Drought, overgrazing of what little grass grew, and the steady influx of settlers cutting off available land were obstacles enough. But the very lifeline of the Fremont ranch, the Army posts and their steady demands for beef, were dwindling to almost nothing now that most of the hostile Indians had been subdued. If the
Fremonts
were fortunate enough to feed and water a good-sized herd indefinitely, who would purchase their product? Even the excellent contacts he'd made in Yuma couldn't insure a lucrative future shipping beef to San Diego and the surrounding missions.

Nathan would understand, Cole assured himself.
It wasn't as if the Triple F had some great family history behind it, or had been passed down from generation to generation. Only the land they left behind in Texas might have qualified for that honor, but Nathan had picked up, sold the property, and brought his family to the Verde Valley in 1865 to establish his own dynasty. How could he possibly oppose Cole's starting out on his own with the same objective?

Nathan would understand. And when he did, he'd realize he could sell the ranch for a tidy profit or turn it over to Buck and Nellie. In either case, he and Olive would be free to move to town, where she would be closer to the doctor and her women friends, and he could further his political career. Once he accepted the fact the Fremont ranch would no longer operate under the Triple F brand, getting Nathan to see the wisdom in his choice—raising ostriches and selling their byproducts for lucrative profits—would be no problem. No problem at all.

Smothering an incredulous laugh into his pillow, Cole rolled over onto his right side. He slammed his eyelids shut and willed sleep to overtake him, but then his thoughts returned to a far more serious problem.
Sunflower Callahan.

How could he make his peace with her?
In what capacity and for how long?
That he loved her was not an issue. Cole couldn't stifle or hide what he felt for the doe-skinned maiden with the midnight blue eyes, even if he wanted to. He loved her like he had never dreamt was possible, with every aching bone in his body, and as thoroughly as he sensed it was possible for him to love anyone. But where would this love lead him? Where
could
it lead him?

If she were a white woman, he wouldn't even have to ask himself the question. He would be spending this night in the same way—sleepless—but his mind would be churning with thoughts of picking out the perfect ring, conjuring up the ideal spot to propose, and making plans for the endless round of engagement parties they would attend in their honor. But Cole Fremont hadn't fallen in love with just any woman, an ordinary white woman like Elizabeth Scott whom his family and friends would welcome with open arms. He'd fallen in love with Sunny, a half-breed, a woman considered much less than his equal by his peers.

What if he said the hell with them all, abandoned his family and friends without so much as a backward look, and made Sunny his wife? He supposed he could live with that decision, but could she? Would it be fair to subject the woman he loved to a life of scorn, of possible ridicule?
And what of their future children?
How would they be looked on by this perfect society?
As
Fremonts
or lowly half-breeds?
The rejection of his own children was something Cole could not bear to think about.

His fists doubled up as he thought back to Sunny, of the possibilities and the humiliation she might suffer because of his love. Cole could not bear to think of that, either. He prepared to do battle with his pillow again and demand his mind let him sleep, but he tensed instead as he heard the click of his doorknob turning. An inebriated or lost party
guest,
or someone with an ax to grind? Whoever it was, they moved with stealth and had already entered his room.

His mind raced to the bed table and his Colt .44.

Did he have time to reach for the weapon? Or would the silent intruder attack the minute he heard any movement? Straining his ears, Cole picked out the faint rustle of fabric scraping against skin just as he prepared to launch himself towards his weapon.

"Cole?"

He recognized Sunny's voice in mid-launch. Twisting away from the table, towards the sound, Cole's body reacted awkwardly to the change of direction as his mind sent conflicting messages to his limbs.

He fell out of bed and onto the floor with a tremendous thud.

Her voice louder but still hushed, Sunny cried, "Oh, Cole." She picked out his form, bathed an eerie silver-white in the moonlight,
then
rushed to his side. "Are you hurt?"

"No," he grumbled as he worked his way to his feet. "I landed on my head. I'm just fine."

Suppressing a giggle, she apologized. "I am sorry if I startled you, but I was afraid someone besides you would hear if I knocked."

He rubbed at the small bump on the side of his head,
then
waved her off. "Don't worry about it. What's so important that the proper young lady who insisted she couldn't step one foot in my room while under my father's roof, has made a liar out of herself and done that very thing?"

"I wanted to talk to you." But the words dissolved, disappeared with her well-planned speech now that she was face-to-face with him. She'd been certain the anger she still carried over Nathan's conversation and Cole's lack of the same would make this parting bearable, something she could do without a display of emotion. But now she wasn’t so sure.

Maybe if they weren't so close she could think better. Sunny took a couple of backward steps and opened her mouth to say what she had to say. Then she noticed what the moonlight had been trying to tell her at first glance. Cole was completely naked. Her mouth fell into a big round O.

Following the line of her vision in the dim light, Cole chuckled under his breath. "If I'd known you were stopping by, I'd have dressed for the occasion. As it is ..." He left the sentence unfinished and spread his arms wide.

"Of course, I should have realized you know,
that ..."
Sunny tripped over her tongue, frustrated and annoyed with herself for not even considering the state in which she might find him. He was in his bedroom,
in bed
,
for heaven's sake. How was she going to be able to keep her distance and say goodbye with him standing there, beckoning her, in all his naked glory.

"Come here, Sunny."

That voice, soft and low, deep and seductive, beckoned her with promises she knew he could fulfill. Had she really thought she could make this parting quick and painless, detached but friendly?

Sunny took another backward step. "Cole, this is a mistake. I should return to my room."

"You just got here, sunshine. What did you want? Why did you come in here?"

His voice remained on the same provocative tone, befuddling her even further. "I do not remember."

"Come here, sweetheart."

No
perched on the tip of her tongue like a rattlesnake ready to strike. But could she sink her fangs into his heart, allow the poison to spread, hurt him the way she was hurting? Was that what she
really
wanted? She lifted her chin and stared into his sparkling eyes, and found her answer. The answer was no. But it was to
her own
question, not his. Sunny crossed the room.

“I was cold," she lied, mere inches from his mouth. "I hoped you might be able to warm me."

A little voice in the recesses of his mind told him she hadn't told the truth, that something much more serious than cold feet had sent her to his room. But then he caught her scent, saw the naked longing in her expression and he was lost.

"You've come to the right place, ma'am." Cole took her hand and pressed it against the proof of his desire, and said through a groan, "I've a fire that'll warm you from head to toe all night long."

Sunny's breath caught in her throat as the first wave of desire rippled throughout
her,
swelled her with longing. Tonight would be like no other. Nothing before, and nothing after, would ever be as special, as wonderful. This she knew in her heart.

She would say goodbye to Cole this evening as planned, but her farewell would be a little different. It would be accomplished with her body, her soul. Words were unnecessary; they would only complicate something she couldn't fully understand anyway. He would know how much she loved him, understand that love had sent her away, and they would forgive one another without a single word passing between them.

Convinced of her course, overwhelmed with sensations, Sunny reached for the ribbon at the throat of her wrapper and gave it a tug. The gown fell open, revealing a lace-trimmed cotton nightgown. "See how the thin fabric chills my skin?" Sunny said, arching her back.

All Cole could see were dusky rose nipples hardened by desire, not the cold, straining against the bodice of the nightgown. A low growl passed, unbidden, through his throat as his hands went to her breasts. "This could be a real problem," he breathed, playing along. "We should get you out of this inferior gown immediately before you catch your death."

With a lusty chuckle, Sunny leaned her head back and squeezed her shoulders together as Cole slipped the straps down her arms, then coaxed the nightgown over her rounded hips. When she was nude, she slid her hands behind her neck and flipped the bulk of her long raven hair over her shoulders and across her breasts.

Although he ached to touch her, to hold her, Cole didn't move at first, found he
couldn't
move. Sunny had been ravishing, a real beauty at the dance last night in her royal blue ball gown and elaborate hair arrangement. But that woman, no matter how stylish or sophisticated she might be, couldn't do justice to the Sunflower who stood before him now. She was every man's dream, the very essence of womanhood. Moonlight caressed her creamy skin, highlighted the tips of her breasts peeking out through strands of raven-black hair, and drew his gaze to her hard, flat tummy and the dark thatch below.