“What d’ya expect when someone steals a man’s wife an’ kids from him?” the man raged. “Damn right it’ll make ya’ crazy—crazy enough to use this”—he brandished the gun—“if you don’t tell me where they are.”
In that moment Laura knew he meant it. Fear struck deep in the pit of her stomach, shooting adrenaline through her system.
“You are addressing the wrong gentleman, Mr. Mitchell.” Sebastian’s voice rang clear and strong far to the right. Laura swung her gaze to him, stunned to find him there. “I am the one who took your wife and children to a place of safekeeping.”
Mitchell whirled in his direction, and, to Laura’s horror, Sebastian stepped forward, separating himself from the others. “You did?” Mitchell looked at him none too certainly. “Then where are they?”
“See here, young man.” Chase hobbled forward, his cane lifting.
“Gramps, no,” Laura protested, terrified that he intended to foolishly shake it at Mitchell like a man scolding a naughty child.
Instead he swept it upward with lightning swiftness, striking the underside of Mitchell’s gun hand and evoking a yowl of pain. At almost the same instant Laredo launched himself at Mitchell, tackling him from the side and driving him to the floor.
With amazing calm, Sebastian planted a foot on Mitchell’s wrist and twisted the gun from his grasp. By then, Trey and Boone had joined forces with Laredo to pin Mitchell to the floor.
In the blink of an eye, it seemed, the threat was over. Relief skittered through Laura as she turned an amazed look on her elderly grandfather. He was once more leaning on his cane and smiling at Quint.
“You have to use whatever weapon you have, son.”
Quint responded with an amused shake of his head and glanced at Laura. “You’d better call the police.”
Less than twenty minutes later a state patrol helicopter landed in the Triple C ranch yard. Its arrival was soon followed by a squad of police cars. In short order Mitchell was handcuffed and escorted off the premises, and the usual round of questioning and statements followed.
Trey and Laredo accompanied the last of the officers onto the veranda while everyone else remained in the den. Boone sat beside Laura on the leather sofa, his arm draped along the back of it behind her head. Quint and Chase occupied the two wingbacked chairs in front of the desk. Tall and lean, Sebastian stood at the window, observing the departure of the last officials and looking as unflappable as he had been through it all.
He turned from the window, his glance briefly making contact with her. Laura was conscious of the instant rise of her heartbeat. She realized it was a normal reaction to him, one that had existed from the outset.
“I think we can safely conclude this business is over,” Sebastian declared to no one in particular.
Uncrossing her legs, Laura rose from the sofa and carried her empty coffee cup to the service tray on the desk.
“You do realize that you took a terrible risk speaking up like that.” She eyed him with more than a little interest.
“But a calculated one,” Sebastian replied with customary insouciance. “After all, if I was the one who knew the location of his wife and children, it was unlikely he would shoot me.”
“As drunk as he was, he could have pulled the trigger without even knowing it,” Laura countered.
“As I said, it was a calculated risk.” His eyes had a warmly amused gleam to them.
Boone pushed off the leather couch, his jaws rigid with anger. “Was it part of your calculation to put this entire family in jeopardy?” he demanded. “None of this would have happened if you hadn’t stuck your nose into something that wasn’t any of your business. You’ve caused this family enough trouble, Dunshill. It’s time you packed your bags and went back to England. And I mean right now.”
In that instant, any lingering doubts vanished as Laura turned a cool look on Boone, her chin lifting. “You are only half right, Boone.”
“What do you mean, half right?” he said with a frown.
“You are the one who needs to pack your bags and leave this house. Immediately.” There wasn’t an ounce of heat in her voice, only an icy determination.
“What are you talking about, Laura?” His expression was all shock and confusion. “We’re going to be married.”
“We were. But not any more.” She twisted the engagement ring off her finger. “Here. You can take this with you.” Laura flipped it to him with a touch of disdain.
The stunned look on his face as he caught the ring was almost laughable. “You’re upset, Laura,” he protested in a dazed fashion. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”
“I always know exactly what I’m doing, Boone,” Laura corrected, while Sebastian looked on, struggling to hold back a smile. “You have about as much style as one of your Texas barbeques. And I certainly don’t want anyone as cunning and ruthless as Max Rutledge for a father-in-law. I don’t care how much money he has; marriage to you would still be a step down. Now, leave.”
Chase spoke up, “I hope he doesn’t go. I would enjoy having him thrown out.”
Boone glared at them, for a moment angry beyond words. “You’ll regret this,” he pushed the words through clenched teeth and stalked out of the den, roughly shouldering Laredo aside when he met him and Trey in the doorway.
“What’s got into him?” Laredo hooked a thumb over his shoulder in the direction Boone had taken.
“Laura just told him to get lost,” Quint replied with a quietly approving smile.
“It’s about time,” Laredo muttered.
The grin Trey gave her was big and wide. “I guess that means we won’t be hearing wedding bells around here any time soon.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure about that,” Laura replied with a trace of smugness.
As she had known he would, Sebastian abandoned his post by the window and crossed to her side, snaring her waist with his hand. “I believe that last remark requires some clarification,” he stated, addressing the others. “If you will excuse us, Laura and I will go somewhere and discuss this in private.”
“By all means, do,” Chase urged.
Nothing had ever felt so right as the light pressure of Sebastian’s arm around her as he ushered her out of the den and into the living room. But it was nothing compared to the swelling of pure joy within when he turned her into his arms and Laura met his ardent gaze and the suggestion of a twinkle it possessed.
“Have we finally gotten past the money issue?” The husky pitch of his voice was like a caress.
“I wouldn’t say we’ve gotten past it exactly,” Laura demurred with a touch of coyness.
An eyebrow arched in silent challenge. “Then what would you say?”
She slid her hands up to his shoulders and loosely clasped her fingers behind his neck. “That I’ve decided to marry you in spite of it”—Laura paused, a tiny smile showing—“
After
you sign a prenuptial agreement, of course.”
A smile grooved the corners of his mouth. “Of course.”
Laura touched a finger to the faint smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose. “I do hope you don’t pass any of these freckles on to our daughters. It would be nice if our sons had them, though.”
“Regrettably, that’s something over which I have no control, Lady Crawford,” Sebastian countered lightly, even as desire darkened his eyes.
“I do like the sound of that,” Laura confessed.
“And I look forward to calling you that for the rest of our lives.”
“I do love you, Lord Crawford.” She made the fervent declaration as she pulled his head down to kiss him and share all the fullness of her love.
Epilogue
S
nowflakes fell thick and fast from the cloud blanket that covered the Triple C. Now and then a blustery north wind sent them swirling against The Homestead’s windows, creating shifting patterns of gray and white. Try as they might, the cold and the snow couldn’t penetrate the towering white house that stood so proud and tall on the knoll overlooking the ranch headquarters.
Lights gleamed from its windows in defiance of the premature darkness the November storm had brought to the afternoon. In the den, flames crackled and leaped over the stack of split logs in the fireplace, the heat from it bringing an extra warmth to the room.
Chase dozed in a wingbacked chair next to the fire, halfway between wakefulness and sleep. A heavy sweater hung loosely from his stooped shoulders, the added layer of clothing an attempt to warm his old bones. Dimly he felt the brush of something across his legs and stirred. His drowsy eyes were slow to identify the petitely built woman standing by his chair. For a moment her features swam in and out of focus, but the striking green of her eyes and the shining darkness of her hair, only faintly threaded with gray, registered immediately. Joy swelled within him and a tightness gripped his throat at the sight of his beloved Maggie.
As he reached out to her, she spoke. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, Dad.”
Dad. His hand fell back onto the armrest, the illusion shattered. Chase worked to conceal the bitter disappointment he felt at the discovery it was his daughter Cat standing before him and not his late wife.
He used gruffness to hide any lingering ache in his voice. “I wasn’t sleeping.”
“Of course not.” Cat smiled in dry disbelief and bent to tuck the edges of a heavy blanket around his legs.
The action prompted him to notice the new weight of it on his leg. “What’s this about?” Chase demanded, the sight of it making him feel like an invalid.
“I don’t want you getting chilled.”
“So you’re going to roast me instead?” His glance was sharp with reproof.
“Now you know what the doctor said, Dad.” Her voice had that indulgent tone parents used when speaking to their children, further irritating him.
“The man’s a quack,” Chase grumbled. “He claimed I had pneumonia, but it was nothing but a damned cold.”
The instant the diagnosis had been made Cat had appointed herself as his personal nurse and moved into The Homestead to care for him. Although Cat had never said so, Chase knew the move was to be a permanent one. Living in the ranch house she had once shared with Logan had proved to be too painful and too lonely. Truthfully, Chase welcomed her presence even if she fussed over him too much.
“It doesn’t matter whether it was pneumonia or a common cold, we still can’t risk a relapse,” Cat insisted, “not with the wedding coming up next week. You know how determined Laura is that you be the one who gives her away.”
At the mention of Laura, Chase suddenly noticed the lack of chattering voices and other sounds of the flurry of pre-wedding activity that had filled The Homestead these last few days. “Where is Laura?”
“Upstairs with Tara and the seamstress. They’re finishing up the final fitting.”
He frowned. “How come you aren’t up there with them?”
“I was. I just came down to check on you,” Cat replied with a kind of studied nonchalance and drifted over to the window as if drawn by the thickening curtain of white flakes. “The snow’s coming down a lot heavier. I hope the roads aren’t slick.”
Chase knew at once that the remark was more than just an idle one and guessed, “Quint went over to the Circle Six, did he?”
Cat hesitated fractionally, then nodded. “He wanted to check on the cattle—make sure there was enough hay out for them. I thought he’d be back by now,” she added with a faint note of worry.
The day after his father’s funeral Quint had handed in his letter of resignation. Chase wasn’t surprised by his decision. The boy had always had a strong sense of duty, and there wasn’t any doubt that Cat had needed him desperately in those first months following Logan’s death.
“Quint’s never been the kind to take unnecessary risks.” Chase said to allay her concern. “If the roads are bad, he’ll just stay at the ranch.” After a slight pause, he added. “It’s natural to worry about him. All parents worry about their children, whether they’re four years old or forty. But you can’t continue to lean on Quint. It isn’t healthy for either of you.”
“I know,” Cat admitted on a faint sigh.
Chase was about to say more when an upstairs door opened and the house echoed with the sound of multiple footsteps and feminine chatter. He listened to it flow down the staircase and arched an amused glance at his daughter.
“With Laura in the house, the quiet couldn’t last.” He knew he’d miss the noise when she moved to England.
“How true,” Cat agreed and moved away from the window. “A snowy afternoon like this seems to call for a cup of hot cocoa. Would you like me to fix you one?”
“I’d rather have coffee.” Chase replied.
“I’ll bring you a cup.” She crossed to the doorway and paused there, her attention transfixed on something in the living room. “Laura,” she murmured, the single word conveying a wealth of utter appreciation and approval.
“Is Gramps in the den?” The familiar voice of his granddaughter reached his ears.
Chase spoke up before Cat could answer. “I’m here.”
“Close your eyes, Gramps. I have something I want to show you,” Laura said.
The beginnings of a small smile edged the corners of his mouth. “I think it might be hard to see it if I close my eyes.”
“Very cute,” Laura chided with affection. “Just cover your eyes and I’ll tell you when you can look. Let me know when he’s ready, Aunt Cat,” she added.
Realizing that Laura was determined to have it her way, as usual, Chase chose to indulge her whim and placed a hand over his eyes. Almost immediately light footsteps approached the den’s entrance, accompanied by the soft rustle of fabric.
“You can look now, Gramps.”
He lowered his hand and beheld the vision of his granddaughter poised in the doorway and dressed in a wedding gown of white satin. Its line was simple but incredibly elegant, with long, flowing sleeves and an artful studding of pearls. She was all beauty and grace, a sight that caused a swelling of pride in his chest.
“I wanted you to see me in the gown I’ll be wearing at our ceremony in Scotland,” Laura exclaimed, careful not to make any direct reference to the fact that he wouldn’t be present. It was the consensus that the trip would be too long and hard for him at his advanced age. “What do you think? Do you like it?”
“It’s beautiful, of course, but”—Chase frowned—“are you saying you have two wedding gowns?”
“Really Gramps, I can’t have Sebastian seeing me in the same one twice. It just isn’t done,” Laura chided. “Besides, since the wedding will take place in Skibo Castle, I thought I should wear something with a slightly medieval look.”
“Having two gowns is as foolish as having two weddings,” he grumped. “One should be good enough.”
“Now, Gramps, we’ve been through all that.” With an indulgent smile, she glided across the room to his chair and sat sideways on the arm of it, facing him. “It simply wasn’t feasible for Sebastian’s family and friends to fly over here for the wedding. There wouldn’t have been enough room to put them all up.” She lightly smoothed his coarse gray hair. “And nearly every Calder bride has been married right here in the den. I couldn’t very well break that tradition, now could I?”
“No, you couldn’t do that. You are, after all, a Calder.” A calmness settled over him. And Chase knew that long after he was gone, the Calder tradition would continue. That tradition of passion and pain, loving and losing, trial and triumph would never die. It was the Calder way.