THE HONOR BOUND GROOM Read online

  The difference in brothers was night and day. Mac had depth. Character. Heart. Mac had taught her what real love was, by being a man irresistibly worth loving. Yet her head was throbbing, her pulse charging anxiety. Nagging her mind was why Mac had tracked down his brother. Chad had obviously been summoned home. To see her. Was that supposed to mean that he didn't want her in his life anymore? Could she have misread Mac's caring? Could she have built up crazy false hopes that he could love her?

  From the distance upstairs, she suddenly heard the baby's thin wail and swiftly surged to her feet. Annie needed her. And until Mac got home, there was simply no way to know what was in his mind—or heart.

  Mac walked in through the door around six. The scent of something delicious simmered on the stove and the table was set, but the kitchen was missing its boss. Kel always rushed in to greet him with her hi-how-was-your-day thing. Amazing how easily a man got spoiled, he thought wryly, and within a second of plopping down his briefcase, he could hear why she wasn't there. Annie was crying. Not loud enough to wake the dead—which he knew his darling was capable of—but she was definitely making her temporary unhappiness with the world known. Quickly he shed his jacket and hiked in the direction of the caterwauler.

  His two favorite females were pacing a hole in the library carpet, the baby on Kelly's shoulder, being patted and soothed and there-there'd. His responsive smile was automatic, yet almost immediately his internal antenna picked up that something was wrong. Not with the baby. With Kel. She looked good. Beyond good. The dark red sweater dress snuggled her breasts and hips, teasing his eyes and his hormones. The fire spitting in the hearth gave her skin the glow and luster of a pearl and made her hair look like spun gold. But when she pivoted around and saw him, Mac caught the skittery nerves in her expression.

  Something had happened that day. He just didn't know what. But first things first—he smiled a hello and then motioned with his fingers to fork over the monster. "How'd the doctor's appointment go?"

  "Couldn't be better, I'm fine. But Annie's been crying for almost an hour. I can't figure out why she's unhappy. She nursed like a pig and I just changed her diaper and she doesn't feel hot or anything like that—"

  Being an advanced father of six weeks, Mac had already figured out that baby and mom were tuned to the same channel. If Kelly was dancing around in high spirits, the baby would likely be chortling and cooing. And the rare times Annie was upset, nine times out of ten the trick was easing things for Annie's mom. "Now, you know how smart she is. She probably read the dials on the clock and realized we were going to try to do a damn fool thing like sit down together for dinner. How about if you just go put your feet up for a few minutes? Let me take a turn at calming her down."

  "Well … okay. I've been in these clothes all day. I really would like a minute or two to change." Kelly handed over Annie and the usual five miles of blankets, and gave the baby one last comforting pat. "Mac?"

  "Just go relax. I'll come find you if I can't get her quieted down, I promise—"

  "I will. It's not that … I just wanted to tell you—Chad was here this afternoon."

  Adrenaline pumped through his veins in a sharp rush. His gaze darted to her face—and yeah, it was obvious now what had unsettled her. But that didn't mean he could read from her expression how she felt about seeing Chad again.

  "We'll talk about it later," he told her. Kelly just nodded and left them.

  Mom preferred to do her baby-pacing in the library, but he and Annie had worked out their own routine in the Great room where there was more space—around the pink couch, past the fireplace, a circle around the leather chairs and then pivoting around at the desk. Blankets predictably slipped and bunched, and the baby squirmed, still crying hell-bent for leather. From her pitiful wails, you'd think nobody loved her.

  God knew, he did. When a lumberjack-size burp erupted from her delicate rosebud mouth, the tears eased and she seemed to settle in his arms, but Mac wasn't holding his breath the peace would last. His angel was almost twelve pounds now. Old enough to have his number. If Annie was happy walking, they walked, no discussion. All he had to do was look at the tiny, precious face with the wispy tufts of blond hair to feel a wave of unconditional love so huge it swept him under. Still, the last several weeks had been the most harrowing in his entire life.

  Failure had never been in his vocabulary before. He was the brick in the family, the one who was always good in a crisis—it was the one thing he'd always been sure of about himself. Yet the night Annie was born, it was still killing Mac that he'd let Kelly down. Instead of being strong, he'd floundered. She'd never said anything about his failing her, but every insecurity he'd ever buried had seeped to the surface that night.

  His daughter had brought up more. God knew, all he wanted was to do everything right for her. He'd tried to master the fine art of burping. Tried to get over his terror of drowning her every time he gave her a bath. Tried not to tear down the hall in the middle of the night in panic every time she let out a wail. But the thing was, Annie hadn't come with a rule book. She cried, and there he was in terror land again. No one ever told him that fatherhood was this frightening.

  No one ever told him about the loving thing, either. Intellectually, of course, he knew that his brother had contributed the paternal genes—but the first time he held Annie, she became his daughter in every way that mattered. She was the daughter of his heart, the same way Kelly had irrevocably become the love of his heart.

  And both the females in his life were the reason he'd tracked down Chad and demanded his brother come home. Everything had gone too far. Kelly had opened his world to emotions he didn't know he had; she was warm and giving and holding back from touching her was driving him crazy. It wasn't right, to complicate her life with an emotionally tangling involvement, without her knowing for sure what she felt about his brother.

  Mac believed she needed to see Chad. Face-to-face.

  Well, now she had.

  Only now, it seemed all those earlier failures mounted up in his mind. There was no question that he had to face this problem. If she had feelings for Chad, then she did. He needed to know—had to know—yet the risk of failing to do the right thing, say the right thing, could mean his losing Kelly.

  For a man who had never backed down from a principle, Mac discovered that all these years he'd really been an accomplished coward. He watched himself evading Kelly with the finesse of an escape artist for the next few hours.

  Dinner was easy. The baby dominated dinner because the baby always dominated dinner. After dishes, Jack thankfully called him on a business problem; then his cousin Garrett called about a personal problem. By that time it was his turn for baby care again and he urged Kel to take a long, soaking bath. The minute she came out, he disappeared into his shower.

  By ten o'clock, Mac wasn't proud of his cowardice, but he figured it was late enough to safely hole up in his bedroom … until Kelly suddenly showed up in his doorway. She never did that. She'd always treated his bedroom as if it were his private male bastion—except for the night the baby was born—and he was actually in bed, a book propped on his knees, nothing on but pajama bottoms. His near nudity should have guaranteed that she'd hightail it, too.

  Not this time. She stood on the threshold with her arms crossing her chest and her chin jutted out like a bulldog's. The white robe she wore normally made him grin. It was his, an old Christmas gift he'd unearthed from the back of his closet weeks ago, when her own robe just couldn't zip any more over her pregnancy tummy. She usually balked if he tried to give her anything, but she'd confiscated the old robe as if it was a prize, even though the thing drooped on her shoulders and wrists and never stayed tied because the fabric was too slippery.

  But her tummy wasn't big now, and nothing about her look in his robe aroused even a pinch of humor. When she stepped into the room, the neck gapped enough for him to glimpse a strap of some shiny black fabric. Glossy, like satin. And black, like Kelly had never worn around
him. From the distance across the room, her hair looked brushed with silver, her skin flushed with color, and there was the strangest expression in her eyes.

  "By any chance are you avoiding me, Mac?" she asked gently.

  "Avoiding you? Of course not … it just seems one of those nights when it's been one thing after another—"

  "Uh-huh. And now it's late. Awfully late to start taking about anything serious."

  "Really late," he concurred, relieved that she realized the time. Neither used to turn off their lamps until midnight, but that was before the baby. Now parenting had turned them both into zombies by ten. He said sympathetically. "You've got to be tired—"

  "Beat," she agreed, and then still studying him with that strange, worrisome look in her eyes, she not only came in but perched on the far edge of his king-size bed. She never sat on his bed. Never. And positively never when he was in it. "But somehow I haven't had a chance to tell you about Chad's visit."

  "Well, naturally, I want to hear, but if you're tired we can wait until—"

  "The details will wait." Her voice was soft. Soft like the surface of steel. "But I need an answer on something, Mac. From what your brother said, you went to considerable effort to track him down and make him come home. I'd like to know why you did that."

  "All right. I did it because…" Restlessly Mac washed a hand over his face. Hell. He'd never been less than honest with her, but he hadn't avoided this all night for nothing. He'd rather risk his life than risk hearing she still felt love for his brother.

  When he didn't immediately respond, Kelly blurted out, "Mac, I have to know. Have you had it with my being your wife? You did the right thing. The baby has your name, but that's done now—the baby's born and everything's different. Maybe you want out, and you thought if Chad came home—"

  "Holy kamoly. God. No. That's not it at all, Kel." He heard the suppressed hurt in her voice and it damn near crushed him. And it never occurred to him that she'd leap to such a crazy conclusion. "I wanted you to see Chad. Face-to-face. For your sake. Not for mine."

  Her forehead pleated in a bewildered frown. "For my sake?"

  He scrubbed his face again. Give him a stock market crash anytime. Anything was easier than trying to talk about emotions, especially when this mattered so much. "Look … you were in love with him—"

  "It's been a good year since I believed that, but there was definitely a time I thought I was," she agreed carefully.

  "And he hurt you with his irresponsible behavior. But that didn't mean all your feelings for him had died. And I didn't know what your feelings were. I didn't see how you could know. Unless you had the chance to see him again."

  She hesitated. "You thought I'd be tempted to take off with Chad if I saw him again?"

  "No, I never thought you'd just 'take off.' Hell, I know you better than that. But we both knew that my brother would come back home at some point. And it seemed to me that you were stuck in this uncomfortable limbo place until he did. We didn't set up this marriage to close down choices for you, Kelly, but to open up those choices. You and the baby needed to be safe. But there was never any intent to permanently rope you into a relationship you might not be happy with."

  "You think I'm unhappy with this marriage of ours?"

  He groped for the right words. "I think … that we've gotten closer, and in different ways, than either of us ever dreamed would happen. But it hasn't gone so far that you still couldn't get out if you wanted out—"

  Mac started suffering a strange disoriented feeling. Trying to talk about Chad made him feel more tense than a coiled spring. He'd have thought it would be tough for Kelly, too. Instead, for some bewildering reason, she seemed to be relaxing. She stood up, unfolded her arms and started idly waking around as if moving enabled her to think better. Only the robe sash kept loosening, and the gap at her throat kept widening, revealing smooth white skin and a dipping hint of cleavage. The whisper-sound of satin swooshed against bare skin as she walked. And then there was the strange, unsettling way she kept shooting looks at him.

  Mac never thought for an instant that Kelly deliberately intended to give those erotic, exotic peeks of skin, but the thing was, he needed to say everything carefully. He needed to do this right. He needed to be able to think. Only his pulse had picked up a galloping rush, and none of that blood flow was going to his brain—or remotely near that pert of his anatomy.

  She lifted a hand, just making some kind of expressive gesture. But the body motion further loosened the slippery robe sash, and suddenly the fabric parted to reveal a whole, long ribbon of black satin that drew his eye faster than a drink for an alcoholic. "So," she said calmly, "if I wanted out, it would sure complicate everything if we slept together, wouldn't it? Particularly if you thought I could still be harboring ideas about going back to Chad. Is that what you thought, Mac? That I want your brother?"

  "I didn't know."

  "You could have asked me."

  "I wasn't sure if you knew what you felt without seeing him again."

  The damn silky sash fell right to the floor. She didn't even seem to notice, much less seem aware of the view she was exposing him to. "Well, now I've seen him, Mac. So I can answer that question with no problem at all. There have to be a couple of billion men running around this planet. One of them is your brother. But out of every single man in the universe, I can tell you unequivocally exactly who I want."

  She stepped toward him.

  * * *

  Chapter 9

  «^»

  Mac didn't answer her. Mac just laid there in that giant, king-size bed with one knee cocked up under the navy blue comforter as if he were prepared to talk all night.

  Well, Kelly thought desperately, it was up to her. Either she risked her heart—or hightailed it back to her nice, safe, separate bedroom and gave up dreaming about making their marriage a real one.

  Seducing him earlier had seemed like such a great plan, but now she felt doomed. Always before, she'd been able to count on chemistry. Desire had always sparked between them. All they had to do was touch. But right now all that nice, combustible chemistry seemed to have flown to Poughkeepsie. Her palms were slick, her stomach clenched with anxiety. Chad showing up had goofed up everything. She couldn't imagine Mac being in the mood—not after all this taking about another man.

  Yet with those nerve-damp hands, she slowly reached up and pushed the robe off her shoulders. It sank to the carpet in a little whoosh. Wearing the sexy black nightgown was the height of dumb, when she knew it showed off her still-pudgy stomach. And offering herself to him was probably plumb nuts, when she was almost positive Mac wasn't in the mood. It would be so much easier if she could wait for another time, another chance, any other night but this one.

  But all that taking about his brother was precisely the problem she couldn't walk away from. She'd told him before that she was over Chad. More than once. And Mac just couldn't seem to believe her.

  Kelly feared that if she ran away now, they might never get past this. So it was now or never that she bared her heart.

  "I want you, Mac," she said lowly. "No one else. There's no other man in my life but you. Not in my mind, not in my heart. You're the only man I want, the only man I can imagine ever wanting. And you don't have to feel the same way, but I want you to believe me—"

  Her voice hadn't even started cracking before Mac was vaulting out of that bed. His palms framed her face, pushed back her hair. She only caught one glimpse of the hot green fire in his eyes before his mouth covered hers, claimed hers, in a kiss that made her blood spin.

  It seemed … she didn't have to worry about all that electricity hiding out in Poughkeepsie.

  They'd kissed before. Not like this. Even a casual hug had provoked chemistry between them before. Not like this.

  Lips tasted, savored, clung. His hands swept down the satin nightgown, warming the skin beneath, stroking down her spine to her fanny, rubbing her against him. He only wore pajama bottoms. She could feel the heat
radiating from his bare chest, his pounding heart against her pounding heart, his arousal pressing hard and hot against her. In the middle of that wet, openmouthed kiss, he lifted her to the bed.

  They tumbled onto the comforter together. Bedcovers bunched. Limbs tangled and twined. She'd known … she'd known Mac had a wellspring of love to give. She'd known from how he was with her, who he was, from every kiss they'd ever shared. But she had no idea how controlled Mac had been until he lost it.

  She couldn't catch her breath. Didn't want to. One silver-deep kiss fed into another, chained into another like silver pearls of fire strung together, one inseparable from the last. She tasted hunger on Mac's tongue. She tasted longing. She tasted need, an urgent need that echoed in her own thundering heart and rushing pulse.

  She'd been in love with him for so long. She'd feared he didn't care, couldn't care. She'd feared he felt nothing for her but responsibility. But this Mac was as vulnerable as she was. His breath roughened. So did hers. When he palmed her through the slippery satin fabric, her hand sought him to rub and tease. When his mouth dipped down, lips pushing aside the lace bodice to tongue her breasts, her fingers clenched and clawed at his back. She wasn't wild, had never been wild. It was him, fueling these feelings, freeing her as if she'd never been free. So much love was roiling inside her that she couldn't remember inhibitions, couldn't remember fearing inadequacy, fearing anything. Not with Mac. She just couldn't possibly fear anything with Mac.

  He pushed at her nightgown, his palm skimming and stroking over calf, thigh, bottom as he chased the garment out of his way. She lifted up, so he could tug the nuisance gown over her head, and then it was gone. She shivered suddenly, a whisper of nerves registering that she wanted to be naked with him, naked emotionally, naked physically … but she had a nursing mom's breasts and a new mom's tummy and fresh white stretch marks. Maybe Mac didn't notice. Mac barely had the nightgown hurled over her head before his mouth was latched on hers again, a kiss that started with her lips and mined a treasure path down her throat to her breasts.