The Pregnant Bride

“Sorry,” he said, his voice purring down her skin. Then, he patted her hand as if she were a five-year-old. They started walking again.

“Why are those signs all over town?” he asked.

She sighed heavily. Chad again. “Chad went to Europe in order to learn part of the family trade. A branch of the illustrious Spencer family runs several banks over there, and he’s learning from the best. I guess they want to expand the bank business once he returns to the States.” There. She’d said it without tripping over her words, without letting on that Chad had ripped out her heart.

Nick seemed to know anyway. He stopped their progress, taking her shoulders into his hands, watching her carefully, his mouth set in a line. He seemed like a shadow, so tall, mysterious, intimidating. She swallowed, the sound much too obvious over his silence.

He ran his index finger under her chin, cuffing it playfully. Meg wanted to grab him right there and then, giving in to the promise of her afternoon fantasy. Darn pregnancy hormones.

He said, “I have a bad feeling that King of the World hurt you, Meggie.”

Moonlight. His low, pint-of-whiskey voice. His shadow lingering over her. It was all enough to make her want to run away because he’d changed so much. Changed into something she couldn’t ever hope to have in her life.

“No, you’re wrong,” she said, hoping she sounded as airy as she had when she used to dress like a rock-and-roll Gypsy girl.

He settled his hands on her upper arms, cupping them, leaving her weak. She could tell by the tone of his voice that he’d gone on to a more serious subject. “I don’t live here, so trust me. Spencer’s the father. Am I wrong?”

“Yes. I mean, yes, you’re wrong,” she lied.

She hadn’t fooled him, judging by his hangdog look of disappointment. “I knew it.”

He knew. All the work she’d gone through to hide it, and he’d guessed her secret right off the bat. She’d never confirmed the rumors in town about her baby. For all the people of Kane’s Crossing knew, she’d gotten pregnant when she’d gone upstate to settle Aunt Valentine’s estate five months ago. But she knew better. Obviously Nick knew better, too.

A black look crossed over his face, and her heart seemed to stop from the intensity of it. He took a couple of steps back, away from her.

“Don’t look so sad. We’re going to make things right.”

She shook her head. “No one can know the truth, Nick. When Chad comes back to town, I’m afraid he’ll want my baby.” She choked, thinking about what she’d done to get kicked out of her parents’ house. If Chad were to discover her ineptitude, he’d pounce all over her, maybe even drag her through a custody battle. She’d lose her baby for certain.

“He’d never marry me—the witch who lives on haunted hill. What if he took my baby, and I never saw my child again? You know he can do it. His family has so much money and power…”

“Get out of town.”

“And where would I go? Not back to San Diego, to my parents, you can be sure of that. I’ve got nowhere, Nick. Everything I own is here.”

“Sell the house.”

If only she could. “That place has been in my family since eighteen sixty-two. I promised Aunt Valentine before she died that I’d never sell it.” She laughed. “I’m between a rock and a hard place. Do you understand?”

Nick ran a hand through his hair. Was he nervous about something?

“Nick?”

He cleared his throat, looking so lost in the middle of a town that hated him. The sight made her want to hold him and never let go.

“Meggie, you can give your child a name. It’s the only solution.”

There was no solution as far as she was concerned. “Thanks for the optimism, but I have no idea what to do.”

He took a deep breath. “You can marry me.”

Chapter Three

M eggie looked as if a slight wind could’ve knocked her over.

“Did you say something about marrying you?”

Nick couldn’t believe he’d said it himself, but it made sense. He’d come to Kane’s Crossing to dish out revenge and, at the same time, right some wrongs. This was a perfect way to start. “Wouldn’t it help, Meggie? You said yourself that you’re afraid Chad will take the baby from you. How could he do that if we’re married?”

“Because you’re not the father.” She turned away from him, tucking her hands into her coat pockets.

Moonlight gleamed over her curly hair. He wondered how she’d react if he ran his hands through it, but he nixed the idea. Nick had never been one to lose his heart to a woman; as a matter of fact, he’d spent his life insulating himself from love. As with the string of foster homes he’d left in his wake, he’d never allowed himself to settle down with one person. He couldn’t believe he was about to do it now.

He corrected himself. It wasn’t as if he was going to pledge his heart to Meggie. This marriage would be more like a business arrangement, a protective gesture to keep Meggie and her child safe from Spencer’s games. The King of Kane’s Crossing had already shaded his summer friend’s eyes with sadness. Nick wouldn’t allow him to do any more damage. Not if he could help it.

He aimed his words at her back. “Who in this town knows that I’m not the father? You’ve made it a point to keep his identity a secret.”

“What’s in it for you, Nick?”

He watched her back, her red hair cascading over the enormous coat that swallowed her whole. She was so small, so alone. Nick hadn’t found many bright moments lately in his life, but now he actually felt a glimmer of hope. Maybe he could be useful to Meggie. Maybe he could matter.

But she was right. What was in it for him? His dark soul had a ready answer. Revenge and justice, music to his ears.

He’d come to Kane’s Crossing equipped with a Machiavellian plan, something that would ruin Chad Spencer financially. Anger had driven Nick Cassidy to earn his millions—anger and the need to rise above what everyone predicted he’d be. A failure. A good-for-nothing who went around bombing buildings.

Nick had earned his way through college, penny by penny, until he’d joined forces with a friend whose family was in the banking field. They’d given Nick his start, preparing him for the day when he’d gathered enough money through solid investments to buy his first business. He’d sold it to another owner for far more than he could’ve imagined it was worth. He’d done it again…and again, until he’d collected a mind-blowing sum of money.

Then, a few months ago, when he’d found himself thrown from a car—just this short of death—he’d decided to return to Kane’s Crossing. His money and business experience fueling his desire to take away Spencer’s power, the time was now right for some pay-back.

His plan was simple. His old college friend—who’d long since earned a corporate-raider-tough reputation—would buy up Spencer’s businesses, one by one, for Nick. The toy factory, the market, the hardware store, the big department store… And, finally, the banks. His college buddy would engineer a hostile takeover, giving the Spencers no room to expand their business empire. Maybe he’d leave them their dog-grooming shop, just to allow for a little mercy. By then, Spencer would’ve learned his lesson.

Someday he would know that Nick Cassidy had taken away Chad’s power as easily as Chad had taken away Nick’s family.

Nick had almost scrapped his plan, wondering if he was being too harsh. But as he’d driven his battered pickup around town today, after visiting Meggie at her bakery, he’d noticed that most of the poorer families he’d known from his youth had moved away. He’d stopped on the outskirts of the county to chat up some old men who decorated the front porch of a general store. What had happened to the families? he’d asked.

The old men had had no idea who he was because Nick had pretended to be searching for old friends. They’d given him information without a second thought. The families had owed Chad Spencer money, and, not being able to pay off their loans, Spencer had foreclosed on their properties. The news had sparked Nick’s temper even more than before. Spencer was truly ruthless, feeding on the less fortunate like a dog gnawing on bones.

What if Nick could give these families their property again?

He now had more to fight for than just his own disappointments. He’d find justice for the displaced families, as well.

And Meggie was one of Spencer’s victims. He’d fight for her, too.

She’d turned around, her eyes running over him with a suspicious burn. How the hell had Spencer even gotten his hands on her? Damn, it was too painful to even think about.

She held out her hand. A bundle of money spilled through her fingers. His tip from this afternoon.

“You don’t owe me anything,” she said.

Yes, he did. He owed her the world on a chain for the happiness she’d loaned him for a short time during one sun-dappled, near-perfect summer.

“Keep it, Meggie.”

Her chin raised a little. “I don’t accept pity money, or pity proposals.”

That was his Meggie. When he’d first seen her in the bakery, he’d thought she’d lost her fire. But it was back, with a vengeance.

He nodded toward the fistful of cash. “Imagine how well I could provide for your son or daughter.”

“Nick—”

“We could set up a trust fund for the baby. He or she would never lack for anything.”

She stopped talking, cocked her head.

“We could even keep Valentine’s home in trust, have someone else take care of it. You could leave this place with no thoughts of how you’ll make a living.”

“How did you get all this money?”

He didn’t like the expression on her face. Accusatory. Suddenly he felt fourteen again, with cuffs around his wrists, the sheriff breathing down his neck, yelling at him, pointing a stubby finger at the charred remains of Chaney’s Drugstore.

He wouldn’t have bothered to defend himself to anyone else but Meggie. His voice was a harsh whisper, edged by shame. “It was all legal.”

She shook her head, thrusting out her cash-laden fist once again. “That’s not what I meant.” Meggie’s glance combed the grass. “I know nothing about you, Nick. I’d be marrying a stranger.”

“I’m the same guy I always was.”

“No.” Her hand fell to her side. “You’re not.”

He knew it was true. Years of darkness had shadowed his brow, had given him a more predatory walk. He’d never possess the optimistic swagger of a teenager. Never again.

Why did she have to be so sad? Everyone changed. You just had to use your experiences to your own advantage. Didn’t she realize he just wanted to help her?

He walked nearer to Meggie, his fingers itching to tilt up her chin until her gaze met his. He’d never ached to touch a woman so much in his life.

“Nobody’s the same as they were sixteen years ago. But I haven’t changed that much.” He still carried a bright torch of anger. That would never change, not until Chad Spencer got his due.

As if sensing the intensity of his desires, she stepped away from him. “I still don’t understand why you’d want to raise a child who’s not even yours. The child of a man you hate.”

Guilt struck him a blow. What could he say to her? Meggie, I want the man who ruined my chances for a normal family life to suffer, knowing that I have control of his ultimate possession—his child?

How would she react, knowing that some dark part of his heart beat—no, survived—with thoughts of revenge?

“Trust me to do the right thing,” he said, ignoring all the doubts in his mind. Yeah, trust him to use her in his crusade against the town golden boy.

Meggie was silent a moment. Nick took the opportunity to enjoy how the moon’s milky sheen smoothed her skin. He wondered if the curve of her belly would look so soft. What would it feel like to cup his hands over her stomach? To run his fingers over the life pulsing just beneath?

Maybe he wouldn’t even be around to know. From the way Meggie was reacting to his proposal, he was in for a long walk home.

He couldn’t stand the pressure she was under. “Listen,” he said, “you don’t have to decide right now. You can contact me at the Edgewater Motel off the highway, okay?”

“I don’t know what to say.”

He tried to smile. “Worry about it later.”

“Take your money.” She held out her hand one more time.

“No.”

Her eyes widened. Nick recalled that Aunt Valentine rarely told her favorite niece no; obviously, she hadn’t expected him to say it, either.

She shrugged, seeming embarrassed. She opened her mouth, probably to slam him with a smart remark, but she was interrupted by the dry swish of tires burning rubber over the gravel road.

A mint Mustang convertible seemed to fly out of the moon’s center as it sped toward them. Long hair and slender arms sprouted from the seats as a carload of females roared down the road.

“What the hell?”

Meggie turned her back on them. “Don’t even look at them, Nick,” she yelled over the “Whoo!” of celebratory voices.

The car screeched to a halt next to them. Seven girls, all smooshed into the confines of a sports vehicle. He’d never understand the female species.

The driver had sparkling eyes and a short, pixie haircut. “Hey, Meg, want a ride?”

He didn’t know whether or not the question was mocking, but before he could decide, a passenger chimed in.

“Yeah, Witchy Poo, join us.” She turned to the other girls. “Maybe she can make our car fly over the moon!”

Nick was about to step up for Meggie when the driver whirled on her friends.

“Pipe down, you harpies.” She looked at Nick, then at Meggie, who wasn’t even facing the car. “You okay, Meg?”

Nick was close enough to see Meggie’s jaw clench. After a moment she said, “I’m fine.”

“Go!” screamed one of the harpies. The driver looked at Meggie once more, at Nick, then let out a deafening yell of joy before laying pedal to the metal and taking off in a spray of dirt. The car roared down the road, past the spindly black-iron angels of the cemetery gates, past rickety horse-pasture fences. Voices faded into the chilly, autumn-swept air, tree leaves rustling in the aftermath.

Meggie watched them leave. “You wanted Chad Spencer? Well, that’s the closest you’re going to get.”

“What do you mean?”

Meggie’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “The driver was Ashlyn, Chad’s sister.”

Nick clenched his hands into fists, trying hard to ignore the fire in his heart. “What’re they doing tearing up the roads like that?”

Meggie looked past him, toward the graveyard’s angel gate. Nick thought about Aunt Valentine, and where she might be buried.

“That was Ashlyn’s plan for a friend’s bachelorette party. Raising Cain around town, flying a few bras on flag poles, posting a few anti-Spencer posters in windows. Anything to salute her brother’s superiority. She does her best to embarrass the family.” Meggie turned to Nick, her eyes suddenly brimming with tears.

A breeze whistled past them, humming a low, mournful tune in his ear. He had to hold himself back from smoothing a strand of bobbing hair from the corner of her soft, red mouth. So vulnerable. He wanted to protect her from all the hurt in the world.

She half laughed. “I think she despises Chad as much as you do. She’s had to live up to his perfection all these years. I almost like her.”

How could she feel that way about anything Spencer? He couldn’t understand. “A bachelorette party?” he asked, wanting to steer the subject away from Ashlyn’s brother.

“I baked the bride-to-be an angel food cake my own supernatural self. I should know.”

He laughed, actually laughed, at that. She did, too. He was glad they could agree on something, even if it did border on the obscene. This time he didn’t stop himself from touching her, sketching a thumb down her cheek. Soft, so soft. “I’ll walk you to your door.”

She’d frozen under his touch. As she looked into his eyes, he saw fear, trepidation. Maybe some memories she’d rather forget. “I’ll manage.”

With that Meggie pulled away from him and climbed the steps up the hill to the massive black door of her home. Dark spiderwebby decorations surrounded the door frame like sentinels. He watched until she disappeared.

She held the rest of their lives in her hands. He hoped she’d make the right decision.

Three days later Meg still hadn’t come to a definite decision.

“Now, don’t do anything hasty, Meg,” said Rachel Shane as she drove both of them to the Edgewater Motel. Her rattrap of a car bounced over the county roads, causing Rachel to slow down and Meg to cradle her belly.

Meg shot her best friend a have-faith-in-me glance. “Am I the flighty type? I’ve thought long and hard about this.”

“A stranger. The guy could be from Mars for all you know.”

“I’m pretty secure in the belief that he’s earthbound, Rachel.” She understood her friend’s concerns. Not only did they echo her own, but Rachel had her own issues that shed a wary light on Meg’s situation.

At the beginning of the year Rachel’s husband had disappeared, leaving his wife and five-year-old daughter behind on their bluegrass-rich horse farm. Rachel wasn’t a Kane’s Crossing native, so she’d been experiencing much the same troubles from the town as Meg. They were united in their loneliness, outsiders who’d allowed skeletons to creep out of their closets.

Rachel’s gray-green eyes searched Meg’s. “I think you’re not telling me everything.”

What? That Nick Cassidy had held her in thrall since she’d seen him standing in her bakery like a lone cowboy waiting for a gunfight? That he made her think thoughts best left sleeping? Not even Rachel would understand Meg’s attraction to this man. She was still railing against men in general—Chad, and her husband, Matthew, in particular.

Rachel continued. “Your dignity was thoroughly trounced by Chad five short months ago, so I don’t understand why you’re so hot to marry anyone. Besides, you should listen to a girl with experience, one who knows about men who leave home to never return. I hope you’re thinking twice—no, three, four times—about this marriage proposal. It’s nuts.”

Pride had almost convinced Meg to turn down Nick’s suggestion right on the spot, but then Ashlyn Spencer and her party had driven by, reminding Meg of how much she didn’t really belong in Kane’s Crossing. The insults would never stop. Neither would the moral censure for having a baby out of wedlock.

She’d thought a little harder about Nick’s proposal. She knew it wasn’t a love match and, even so, the thought of the security he offered her and her unborn child was tempting. That’s why she needed to talk with him again, just to decide once and for all how she was going to handle a child on a single gal’s budget.

They drove past the autumn-laced trees that lurked over the highway, slowing once they saw the rickety, neon-buzzed sign perpetually proclaiming Edgewater Motel—Vacancy. A one-story building squatted on the roadside, lined by a droopy porch complete with slouching chairs. Pink doors dotted the white-boarded walls. Meg guessed Nick was staying in room six because it was the only one with a vehicle in front of it. A lone-wolf-looking pickup truck.

Once again, she wondered how Nick had gotten rich enough to flip her a three-hundred-dollar coffee tip.

“This is it,” she said, gathering her purse.

Rachel laid a hand on Meg’s arm. “I’ll go in with you.”

Meg surveyed her friend’s hospital scrubs. “The emergency room is expecting you. I can handle this. Really.”

“You thought you had this Chad thing handled, too.”

Meg tried to still her anxiety. “Rachel, thank you for the concern and the help. And thank you for knowing when to stop nagging me.”

Most of all, she added silently, thank you for keeping my secret.

Rachel—and now Nick—had been the only two people she’d trusted. Was she about to make a mistake by putting her faith in Nick?

Rachel smiled at her, a comforting balm to Meg’s nerves.

“Call if you need anything. You have my beeper number.”

Meg got out of the car. “You bet. And, Rachel?”

Her friend waited expectantly, a worried frown on her face.

“I hope you hear something about Matthew. Good luck.”

Rachel’s eyes held a painful collage colored in grays. “Well, I’m not paying that detective to sit around. I’d better hear something about my vaporous husband soon.” She waved. “I’ll watch you for a minute.”

Meg shut the car door. Through the open window, she said, “Why does everyone worry about us pregnant gals? I’m not going to explode within the next minute.”

Rachel cocked an eyebrow, tapping her nails on the steering wheel.

Meg took a deep breath, then marched up the stairs to number six. She lifted her chin and knocked, resisting the temptation to peek at Rachel.

The door opened to showcase Nick, ruggedly handsome in a T-shirt that hugged every dip and curve of his wide chest, every ridged stomach muscle. The white material tucked into his faded jeans, a different pair, this one with a hole on the side of the upper thigh. It was almost as if he’d predicted her fascination with the chinks in his armor.

She realized she’d been gawking at him only when she heard Rachel’s clunky car wheeze away. Nick grinned down at her, resting his arm up against the door frame. Something wicked urged her to nestle a palm against his cut waist, slide it upward, over his stomach, the side of his chest, until she could dig her fingers in the tender spot under his arm.

Bad girl. Dumb girl. Girl who had no business even thinking about sex stuff after Chad had proven how incapable she was of handling an intimate situation.

And Nick wasn’t helping, with his insolent smile and leathery scent. He was so close she could hear him breathing. She wasn’t happy to find that she’d been matching him, breath for breath.

“Hi,” he said softly, still leaning.

“Hello. May I come in?” Or maybe not. Could be an awful idea here.

He paused a moment, his pale blue eyes running over her body until she blushed inside and out. What could a man like him see in a getting-fatter-by-the-moment, bad-news girl? He grinned again, backing up to allow her entrance.

She stepped into the room, thinking she was doing pretty well poise-wise until she saw it.

The bed.

She’d just stepped into a situation she might not be able to handle.

Chapter Four

N ick rested his hands on his lean hips, obviously amused with Meg’s motel-bed shock. “It’s not going to swallow you up.”

But it sure consumed the room, thought Meg. It was king-size, robed with a quilted gingham pattern. The Bates Motel furnishings gave Meg a shiver: two Spartan nightstands, a dreary lamp, a tiny TV that required you to switch channels by hand dial and a dresser capped by a long, bleary mirror… And, wouldn’t you know, the mirror reflected the entire length of the bed. She didn’t even turn around to look at the shower for fear of fainting right on the spot.

“Of course it won’t swallow me.” She cleared her throat as she turned her back on said furniture. She tried to laugh off the nervousness, but what came out of her lungs was far more terrifying than the room. A near cackle. A genuine, Witchy Poo, yikes-I’m-being-chased-by-the-devil cry for help. She clamped her lips together before subjecting them both to more terror.

Now that she’d gotten both Nick and the bed out of the same line of sight, she felt more comfortable. “You’re probably wondering why I’m here.”

Silence. No need for words. Nick merely crossed his muscled arms over his chest and rested his back against the wall.

She took a deep breath and exhaled. “The truth of it is, I’m still not sure what to tell you about marriage.”

He nodded. A muscle flexed in one of his arms, a quick, jerky motion, almost as if he’d blocked an incoming fist to the gut.

Could this man be a father to her child? Could he forget that Chad Spencer had taken a pretty active part in creating him or her? Meg held back another nervous laugh. It didn’t get tenser than this. “I’ve thought of so many reasons not to say yes to you.”