Carrying the Rancher's Heir (11 page)

He was going to try? To do what? Tolerate her? Live with her? Was the thought of having her as his wife so unpalatable that he had to force himself to
try?
Callie's heart bottomed out then. His big confession hurt her on so many levels, her stomach squeezed tight.

Her hand covered her belly to ward off the pain. She felt faint.

Tagg was out of the car in no time, opening her door and lifting her into his arms. He strode with stealthy steps to the front door and kicked it open. “Hang on,” he said as he carried her over the threshold.

Callie savored the moment, even in her despair, as her husband brought her inside his home. He lowered her down and she clung on, fearful to let go. “Lean on me, Callie.” And when she did, he cradled her in his arms and held her very still. “Let me know when, if, you need to—”

“I'm feeling better now, Tagg.”

“Are you sure?” He pulled back from her a little to gaze into her eyes. “You're not queasy anymore?”

“No, not at the moment. Just a little tired.”

“It's been a long day.”

“You carried me over the threshold.” She smiled.

Tagg looked back at the opened door and then moved to shut it, a slow smile emerging on his face as well. “I guess I did.”

And he had proposed to her in the place where all Worth men proposed to their wives. That had to mean something. Or was Callie grabbing at straws?

She continued to smile at him while she removed the rhinestone headband from her hair. “Oh, that feels better.”
She shook her hair loose and the curls fell down onto her shoulders.

Tagg's gaze lifted to her hair. She witnessed him take a deep breath. “You should get to bed.”

She arched her brow. “What about you?”

“I'll come to bed later. You go on. Get acquainted with things around here. I'll bring your bags into my room.”

“But they're already in the guest room. Sammie and I brought them over earlier today.”

Tagg strode past her and moved down a long hallway. He walked into the guest room and Callie followed him. “You unpacked in here?” He whirled around on her, his face unreadable.

“Well, I wasn't sure… I mean, under the circumstances, I didn't know what to expect—”

Tagg leveled his gaze on her. “You're sleeping with me, Callie. In my room. Every night.”

Was this his way of
trying?
She didn't know what to think, but she darn well knew she didn't like his demanding tone. Whether she slept with him or not was her decision to make. But who was she kidding? She wanted to sleep with him. In his room. Every night. She'd prayed he would want her, hoping beyond hope that he wouldn't banish her to his guest room. “Is that an order?”

Tagg's face contorted and he truly looked puzzled. “What?”

“I mean, I'm your wife now, Tagg. You can't order me around like an employee or something.”

Tagg took a measured breath. “Exactly. You're my wife now. And wives sleep with their husbands. At least Worth wives sleep with their husbands. So that's how it's going to be.”

“Ordering again.” Callie stood her ground, hoping she wasn't pushing her luck.

Tagg's silver-blue eyes narrowed on her. “Turn around.”

“What?”

He repeated with practiced patience, his voice softer now, coaxing, “Turn around.”

“Why?”

“Just do it. Trust me.”

Trust him? That was never an issue. She did trust him. She met his eyes one last time before she slowly turned her back on him.

He stepped closer, his warm breath on her shoulders. He whispered, “You'd never get yourself out of this dress alone.”

She felt the material of her gown shift and then part as Tagg unfastened one pearl button after another at the back of her dress. His fingers slid over her skin and tiny pinpricks of pleasure tingled throughout her body. His presence behind her gave her a thrill; the slip of his finger down her back excited her even more. She breathed in his earthy scent as she held her dress to keep it from falling.

“Let it go, Callie,” he said softly.

And Callie allowed her mother's wedding gown to slip from her hands and puddle in a luxurious silk mess at her feet.

Sorry, Mama.

She stepped out of her dress and turned to face Tagg wearing only a pure white pair of silk panties.

Tagg looked his fill, his gaze roaming over her near-naked body with hot hungry eyes. “You're going to be the death of me, Callie Sullivan.”

“Callie Worth,” she corrected.

Tagg raised a brow, then swung her up into his arms. Her
arms automatically circled his neck. “Oh!” She hadn't seen that coming. “I should be used to this by now. Big man. Carry woman.”

Tagg laughed and strode to the master bedroom. Faint hallway light guided their way and once they reached his room, she glanced down at his massive bed. He pulled the deep blue covers back and lowered her down until her head hit the pillow and her body dented the firm mattress slightly. “Get some sleep, Callie. It's been quite a day.”

Callie grabbed the coverlet and pulled it up to her neck, shielding her body from view. The rejection she should have felt was overcome by something else—the comfort of Tagg's big bed. It drew her down with cushiony softness and she felt every single one of her muscles relax. “Are you coming?” she asked, as she felt the fingers of fatigue pull at her.

“Later.”

“Uh-hmm,” she muttered, faintly hearing Tagg's retreating footsteps right before she entered into a deep, deep sleep.

 

Sunshine poured into the room and heated Callie's face. She rebelled against the light, refusing to open her eyes. She gave her pillow a soft punch and bunched it under her head, enjoying the first waking minutes in the most heavenly bed she'd ever slept in. She lay there for long moments wishing she could sleep away the entire day. It was the best sleep she'd had in months.

Her eyes snapped open.

She'd married Taggart Worth yesterday.

Then memories flooded in and she turned to the other side of the bed. Tagg was gone. But the indent in his pillow and tangled sheets told her they had spent their wedding night together. Just not together in the way a normal couple would have spent their first night as husband and wife.

Callie hinged her body forward and sat up. Her stomach seemed happy this morning, no queasiness to speak of, so that in itself made it a good day. She swung her legs around and planted them on the wood floor. She'd never really gotten a good look at Tagg's room last night. It was spacious with tall walls and thick wood beams connecting with the ceiling. The bed took up half the space and what there was of furniture was equally large. A chest of drawers, two night tables and a wide-screen television made up the decor. The room was distinctly masculine with dark wood tones and light coffee-colored, textured walls. An archway inside the room led to two walk-in closets and a dressing area outside the bathroom.

Callie rose from the bed and walked over to one of the closets where Tagg had set her bags down. He must have repacked her suitcases and moved her things from the guest room into his room this morning. Or maybe he'd done it last night while she'd slept.

Staring down at her bags, she thought about how she'd left Big Hawk Ranch. And her father. It had been the best way to handle the situation and not give him an outlet for his tantrum. With her gone, his ranting would cease and, hopefully, he wouldn't end up in the hospital with heart palpitations. It hadn't been easy for Callie, but she'd stood her ground against her formidable father.

Her father was alone now. It was his own doing, she reminded herself. He'd manipulated her one too many times. But that didn't stop her from loving him or from worrying about his health.

The Brooks & Dunn tune “Cowgirls Don't Cry” blasted from her handbag on the floor of the closet. Callie sighed with heaviness in her heart as the ringtone went on. She knew who was calling and finally decided to pick up her phone. One quick look at the screen confirmed that it was her father.

He'd already left her three messages on her voice mail.

“How dare you walk out on me!” had been the gist of the first one on the night she'd left home.

“You're gonna regret marrying a Worth” had been the second pearl of wisdom she'd received while at the hotel room.

“Callie, you ungrateful child. You call me, right this instant” had been his message on his third and final call before her wedding.

Callie stared at the phone ringing in her hand. She couldn't bring herself to answer the call. She couldn't talk to her father. Not yet. She had a husband now and a baby to nurture, and that would take all her concentration today.

But once the phone stopped ringing, Callie felt a measure of guilt. Maybe her father needed her. Maybe he'd taken ill. Tears welled up and her chest grew tight with regret. Why couldn't she have an ordinary, regular, everyday kind of relationship with her father like other girls had? Why couldn't her father's love have manifested in ways that supported her instead of tearing her in two? Why were things always so hard with him? Callie knew better, but she had to hear her father's message. She had to know he was all right. She punched a button on her phone and listened to the voice mail he'd just left her.

“Callie, honey. You looked so beautiful in your mama's wedding dress. I watched you from a distance. I saw you speak your vows. Seems one of those damn Worths has some compassion, after all. One of them let a daddy watch his little girl walk down the wedding aisle.”

“Oh, Daddy,” she whispered.

Her body shook. Tears spilled down her cheeks as she realized her father had been there. He'd witnessed her marriage to Tagg. Callie sunk down to the ground in a heap
of emotion as she listened to her father's parting words. “You know I love you, Callie, but nothing's changed. You shouldn't have married into that family. Soon as you come to your senses, you come on home.”

Callie had been brokenhearted when she'd put on her mother's gown, realizing that her father wouldn't see her wearing it. He wouldn't guide her down the aisle, head held high and proud as he handed her over to her would-be husband with his blessing. Secretly, she'd hoped her father would soften to the idea. Secretly, she'd hoped he'd come around and accept her decision to marry. He'd seen her get married, but it hadn't mattered. Hawkins Sullivan was too stubborn and prideful to let her have a blissful wedding day. His hatred of the Worths ran that deep.

Her heart breaking, she sobbed and sobbed right there on the hardwood floor until her tears dried up. Long minutes passed as she sat like a statue, trying to compose herself, trying to block out the words that tore at her heart.

One of them let a daddy watch his little girl walk down the wedding aisle.

Someone stuck his neck out for her father and had risked Tagg's ire. Had it been Clay, who seemed levelheaded and decent. Or maybe it was Jackson? His actions didn't seem to fit into political correctness—he seemed to do what he wanted, damning the consequences. But whoever it was, Callie would be eternally grateful. At least she'd had that much.

When she heard Tagg's boots slide across the hardwood floor in the hallway, Callie jumped up and ran straight into the bathroom, closing the door and locking it. She turned the spigot in the shower on and as she waited behind the bathroom door, she glimpsed her reflection in the mirror. Big mistake. She groaned silently. She was a total mess. Her eyes
were swollen. Her face was beet red and her nose beamed brighter than a spunky reindeer on Christmas Eve.

Callie cringed when she saw the doorknob twisting. “Callie?” Tagg called from behind the door.

She bit her lip. She didn't dare answer. She couldn't let him see her like this. He'd ask her what was wrong and she couldn't tell him the truth. That her father had been on Worth land,
his
land, yesterday and witnessed their marriage. Callie didn't want to start her married life by lying to her husband. So she let him think she was showering.

And to make her lie less culpable, she removed her clothes and, quiet as a mouse, opened the shower door again and got inside.

Half an hour later, after a good hot rinse and a cleansing of her soul, Callie felt much better as she strode into Tagg's kitchen and found him at the table drinking a cup of coffee.

“Morning,” he said, looking up from the newspaper. “You sleep okay?”

“Yes, I did. Your bed is pure heaven.”

He smiled. “Glad you got some rest. Help yourself.” He pointed to the coffeepot.

“Oh, um, I can't have leaded coffee. It's not good for the baby.”

Tagg folded the newspaper and peered at her. “Guess I've got a lot to learn about babies.” He glanced at her belly, still flat in her jeans.

“We both do. I guess…we'll learn together.”

He nodded and the conversation died.

“Uh, I'll make breakfast. What would you like?” Callie walked to the refrigerator to see what Tagg had on hand. To her surprise, the refrigerator was well stocked. “Looks like there's eggs, bacon, bread, veggies, pancake mix, milk, juice.
I'm impressed. Most guys don't have anything but beer and jam in their refrigerators.”

Tagg eyed her. “I'm not ‘most guys.'”

No, he wasn't. That was an understatement.

“And Clay's housekeeper, Helen, does my shopping for me once a week.”

“Oh, okay.” That explained the cream cheese and bagels, cupcakes and five-pound bags of sugar and flour. “Well, what can I make you?”

Tagg stared at her for a moment as if she was invading his territory. Which in essence, she was. He clearly didn't want her here. “Toast is fine. Thank you.”

“Just toast?”

He nodded.

“I can manage that.” But Callie felt awkward in his home and so out of place that she burned the toast on the first try. Ultimately, she managed to butter two pieces on the second try and slide them onto a plate. “Here you go.”