The Kidnapped Christmas Bride (Taming of the Sheenans Book 3)(23)

She marched back to the cabin, desperate to get inside before TJ saw her cry.

Damn him.

Damn Trey.

He was the worst, most awful man in the world.

And if he was her angel, he was a fallen angel and it'd fallen on her to save his ass.

*

Trey sat in one of the chairs by the fire, cleaning the snowshoes he'd  found in the shed. The wood frames still looked good but the rawhide  lacings were worn and needed attention. It seemed that mice had gotten  to the leather and he made a note to order new lacings once he returned  to Marietta. In the meantime, he carefully rubbed the ash frames dry,  grateful to have something to occupy his hands and attention.

Dinner had been on the quiet side, at least between himself and McKenna.  TJ had talked up a storm and hadn't seem to notice, and once the dishes  were done, McKenna curled up with TJ on the little couch, making up  stories and asking TJ what he thought Santa Claus was doing right now.

She was still mad at him, still not talking to him, while showering TJ with hugs and kisses.

He didn't mind McKenna showering TJ with love. McKenna should be an  affectionate Mom. She should tell stories and play and be fun.

But Trey was having a hard time being shut out from the fun. He  struggled with McKenna punishing him for being a bad guy, when in this  instance, he was the good guy.

He hadn't spent four years missing her and picturing a future with her, a  future that hopefully included more children and family trips and  holidays and traditions, to let go so easily. It was a life he wanted  with every bit of his being … but it had to be right. For both of them.  Otherwise it wasn't the family life either of them desired.

He didn't want a resentful or anxious wife. He didn't want to be the source of someone's anger, or worry.

He was who he was, and he was trying damn hard to do things better, but  he'd never do everything perfectly. He'd make mistakes. He'd be  impulsive, using his heart before his head. But that was who he was. He  wasn't Troy. Or Brock. Dillon or Cormac. He was himself.

Not bad.

Just not perfect.

Which was why he was trying to think of her, and what she needed.  McKenna had been through a lot in her life. They never talked about what  happened at the Douglas Ranch that one night, but he'd read about it in  the papers. The murders had been discussed in agonizing detail around  town. Trey's dad had been one of the first responders on the scene, as  the Sheenan ranch lay close to the Douglas property, but he wouldn't  talk about what he'd seen at the Douglas ranch, other than the thing  he'd said when he came home: it was the worst, most violent scene  imaginable, and if God had any mercy at all, he'd let that one poor boy  survive.                       
       
           



       

Trey glanced up from the snowshoes to McKenna, watching her whisper something playful into TJ's ear and making TJ giggle.

She deserved to be happy.

They all deserved to be happy.

Which didn't mean he was walking away from her, or giving up on her, or giving up on them.

It just meant they had to be mature, and patient. They had to talk, and listen, and get a hell of a lot better at communicating.

They nailed some parts of it. They were experts at hot sex. But now they  needed to get good at the other things, working together to make sure  their relationship would last. He wanted what his parents didn't have. A  happy marriage.

A true partnership.

And you only got that with respect, trust, faith, forgiveness.

*

McKenna had forgotten that when Trey was hurt he grew quiet. She'd  forgotten that he wasn't loud and out of control, but silent and  thoughtful. Reserved.

He was certainly reserved now. He'd shut down, retreating to a chair in  the corner where he sat doing manly chores and repairs, like  weatherproof the old wooden snowshoes.

She wasn't trying to ignore him, but she wasn't going to struggle to fill the silence with meaningless small talk, either.

However, once TJ fell asleep on her lap, worn out from sledding and  snowball fights and tramping around in the snow, the living room, silent  except for the crackle and pop of the fire, felt uncomfortable.

Tomorrow was Christmas Eve. This wasn't how she wanted Christmas to be.

She didn't even know what had happened outside, earlier. Everything just seemed to shift and tilt and go wildly wrong.

She felt an ache as she watched Trey work, his dark head bent.

She wanted things different. She wanted them better. She wanted more with Trey, not less.

Not this.

Silence and anger and hurt.

Suddenly his head lifted and he looked up at her, his brow furrowed,  expression shuttered. "If I didn't want what was best for you, Mac, I'd  be no man at all."

"But who are you to decide what's best for me?" she retorted defiantly. "Who are you to tell me what I need?"

"I know what you need. I've known you too long not to know. And for the  record, I never said we're finished, never said we're through, because  God as my witness, I will never ever walk away from you. I will always  want you. I will always love you. And we might fight, and we might  disagree, but that doesn't mean I'm abandoning you. You're my girl. But  I've got to do right by you."

"Then love me."

"I do."

"And don't say we can't make it work-"

"Never said that."

"And don't imply that you're the wrong guy, or that there might be a  better guy. Whether there is, or isn't, is a moot point, because I want  you. I choose you." She drew an unsteady breath. "I love you."

There was just silence for a moment, but it wasn't the silence of before. This was soft and full … warm and hopeful.

"That's why I climbed in the truck with you and TJ," she added quietly.  "I wasn't being kidnapped. I wasn't being forced anywhere. I wanted to  go with you … I wanted to be with you. I've wanted to be with you since I  was fifteen and thought you were my very own knight in tarnished armor."

Creases fanned from his eyes. The corners of his mouth tilted. "Tarnished armor, hmm?"

She could see him back as they were in high school. She remembered how  he'd avoided her all Fall of her freshman year, even though she knew he  was aware of her. She knew he knew she was there. And she didn't know  why he kept his distance, but as the weeks passed, September to October,  and then October to November, she didn't want him to keep his distance.  She wanted him close, talking to her, close, dancing with her, close,  kissing her.

She just wanted him close.

She just wanted him. Not sexually-she wasn't that mature, or  precocious-but she craved his company and wanted to look into his blue  eyes and see if she could see more, see deeper. She wanted to look until  she was full, look until her heart was overflowing.

"I chose you a long time ago," she added, voice dropping to a whisper.  "And we've had some hard years. Now we just have to figure out how to  make this work."                       
       
           



       

*

They made love in the four poster log bed in the master bedroom, beneath  the heavy handmade quilts, with the snow stacked on the windowsill,  blocking out much of the moon light.

They'd waited years to come together, years to be one, and the  lovemaking was slow and hushed, breath catching, lips touching, hands  skimming. Trey took his time kissing her, kissing everywhere, enjoying  the satin and silk of her skin, the warmth of her body, the curves that  were uniquely hers. He breathed her in, the heat, the taste, the scent  and he loved her so much, so deeply, that in some ways he didn't know  where he ended and she began.

She was that much a part of him and his heart.

For the first time in a long long time, McKenna felt completely safe. Completely at peace.

She was lying in the circle of Trey's arms, her cheek against his chest.  She could hear his heart. She could feel his strength, his power  deceptive when he was relaxed.

He shifted, rolling her over onto her back to look down into her face.  "I want to marry you," he said. "I want TJ to have us, both of us  together. A real family. He deserves that. We deserve that."

"Are you proposing, Sheenan?"

His lips curved but his expression was fierce, intense. "We were engaged the last time I saw you."

She swallowed, nodded. True. "I still have the ring. It's at the bank, in a safe. I didn't want anything to happen to it."

"Speaking of rings, where is Lawrence's? I haven't seen you wear it since we left White Sulphur Springs."

"It's tucked away to return it to him once I'm back in Marietta." She  reached up to touch his cheek, her fingertips sliding over his cheekbone  and then down along the hard chiseled jaw. "You know that I haven't  done this since you left, four years ago. There's been no one but you.  Ever."

He frowned. "You and Lawrence … ?"