Expecting his child(2)

After living with a father and two brothers determined to protect,  defend and dominate her, being with a reasonable man who treated her as  an equal had gone to her head like too much tequila.

Martina had the unnerving intuition that she might not be able to count on Noah to be reasonable right now.

He glanced around her den, then walked toward her. Her heart squeezed in her chest at the formidable expression on his face.

"When were you going to tell me?" he asked in a calm voice at odds with the turbulence in his eyes.

Her stomach fluttered with nerves. "I was going to tell you. I just hadn't figured out how."

"When? After the baby was born? After our child took first steps or went to school? Or reached legal age?"

The sense of betrayal in his voice scraped at her. She struggled with  shame and frustration. "I should have told you. It would have been the  right thing to do, but it was wrong to get involved with you in the  first place. When I found out I was pregnant, I couldn't believe it was  true. I had to come to terms with it on my own."                       
       
           



       

"If you'd told me, you wouldn't have had to do anything alone," he told her.

Martina's heart hurt as a dozen memories slammed through her. "We knew  when we got involved that it couldn't last. You said we could pretend  while we were in Chicago. You never talked about a future with me  because you knew there wouldn't be one."

He rested his hands on his hips. "The baby changes things."

Her stomach sank at the determination in his voice. "For me and maybe for you, but not for us."

"You should have told me."

"Yes, well, I had to get used to the idea first. And having my brothers  find out a Coltrane was the father … " She broke off and grimaced at the  memory of that confrontation.

"What'd they do?" Noah asked. "Look at you like you were giving birth to the anti-Christ?"

"At first," she said. "But I set them straight."

"Who did you tell them was the father?"

"I told them the stork did it," she said, but the flip remark didn't  work its charm. "When you showed up at my brother's wedding like the  Lone Ranger, it became difficult to deny paternity." She took a careful  breath. "I have handled this on my own. I got through the shock and  morning sickness and everything else on my own. I'm strong. I can handle  the rest alone, too."

He gave a wry half smile that somehow looked dangerous. "We never got  around to discussing children, but I have some definite opinions on the  subject. The first is that the parents should be married. You and I  should marry as soon as possible."

Martina gaped at him. If he hadn't been dead serious, she would have  laughed. "You must not have heard me. I have put up with three  domineering men in my life  –  my father and brothers  –  and I am not  interested in tying myself till death do us part to another."

"This baby deserves two parents. Both of us will want to be involved in  raising the child. I don't walk away from my responsibilities."

There wasn't an ounce of give in his voice, but he struck on one issue  she'd been unable to resolve in her heart and mind. Martina wanted the  best for her child, but she couldn't marry Noah. "We can work out  visitation," she began, trying to pump conviction into her tone.

"That's another thing that's stupid. It's crazy for you to live alone here in Dallas when you can live at my family ranch."

Everything inside her balked. "Now I know you're insane. Have you  forgotten that my family home borders your property? Do you think my  brothers and your brothers are going to have a party over this? I don't  think so. Plus, there is the Logan curse. Women bearing the Logan name  have shown an annoying tendency to kick the bucket when they fall in  love and get married. I'll admit I never thought the curse applied to  me, but on the off chance that it does, I have a pretty powerful reason  to stay alive and healthy. My baby."

Noah stood there silently. He looked as if he was reining himself in, processing every word she'd said. Planning.

Martina felt a sinking sensation, but kept her back ramrod straight. She  was no sissy, she told herself. She could handle Noah Coltrane.

"We'll talk again," he said, pulling out a pen and business card and  scratching some numbers on the back of it. "If you need anything,  anything at all, call me. Cell number's on the back." He met her gaze  again. "You said your family curse means a Logan woman will die when she  marries. You forget. When you marry me, you won't be a Logan woman.  You'll be a Coltrane."

"When cows do algebra," she fumed as she watched Noah walk out her door.  "I'll be a Coltrane when Texans stop arguing over water rights, when  your brothers and my brothers give each other big hugs, which will be  never," she continued, even though she was only talking to the air that  Noah had breathed and the space he had invaded. His presence was still  disturbing even though he was gone. "I'll be a Coltrane when the stars  fall over West Texas."

* * *

Noah had so much adrenaline pumping through his veins that he could  easily have snapped the steering wheel of his Tahoe in half. He had  impregnated the most unreasonable, stubborn woman in Texas, and he had a  feeling it was going to take everything he had to corral her and bring  her and the baby to the Coltrane ranch where they belonged.

A part of him wondered if the Indian mystic in him had sensed something  important had happened to Martina. He wondered if that was what had kept  him awake nights. Although Noah knew he was the most modern of the  Coltranes, he also suspected the trace of Indian blood in his veins gave  him instincts not so easily explained.

He sighed in disgust. It would be nice if those Indian instincts could  provide something more useful than a sleepless night, something like an  easy way to win Martina over.                       
       
           



       

To persuade her, he was going to have to see this from her point of  view. Noah knew he was more open-minded than his brothers, but he wasn't  sure he could think like a woman, God help him. Especially when every  drop of primitive protectiveness and possessiveness raged to the surface  when he remembered that Martina was carrying his child.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled into the dusty drive to the main ranch  house. On a normal day, he felt a sense of well-being every time he came  home. Zachary Tremont, former ranch foreman, had always told Noah that  if he grew still and quiet, he would hear the voice of welcome when he  was in the right place. Zachary was probably the reason none of the  Coltrane boys had ended up in prison. Their father, Joe, had been a  drunk, a mean one at that, and their mother, a strict churchgoer, had  died of cancer. The union     hadn't exactly produced a pleasant home  environment.

One good thing Joe had done just before he passed away, though, was to  hire Zachary. During his time at the Coltrane ranch, Zachary had taught  Noah and his brothers the discipline of fencing. More importantly, he  had taught each of the boys about honor and the importance of finding  and honoring his individual purpose.

Noah missed Zachary and would have traded his most valuable antique  sword for a chance to talk to the man now. But Zachary had left when  Noah's brother Adam grew old enough to manage the ranch, insisting it  was time for him to move on.

Noah glanced at the recently remodeled and expanded ranch house and  waited for the feeling of welcome. On a normal day, he felt the warmth  of it curl in his stomach and flow through his blood.

This, however, was not a normal day. His brothers were not going to have a party over his news. A riot was more likely.

He waited until everyone had eaten dinner. Adam was downing a third  beer, Jonathan was leaning back with his eyes closed, and Gideon was  lighting a cigar.

"We need to make plans for an addition," Noah said.

Adam glanced at him quizzically. "Another one? We've already built  bunkhouses for the fencing camps and roundup weekends you want to run."

"We can wait. I don't want anyone touching the house," Gideon said. "I'm  sick of falling over contractors. I want to smoke cigars in peace."

"Then take them outside," Jonathan muttered, his eyes still closed. He wasn't fond of Gideon's trendy habit.

"It's not a building," Noah said. "It's a baby." Complete silence  reigned. Jonathan's eyes popped open. Adam and Gideon stared at Noah.

"Whose, baby?" Adam asked in a low voice.

"Mine," Noah said, and called to the cook. "Patch, you mind bringing in that good bottle of whiskey and three shot glasses?"