Calder Born, Calder Bred (Calder Saga 4)

2

Sleeping lightly, Maggie stirred and awakened at the faint noise of someone moving about the room in the dark. Rising on an elbow, she reached for the switch of the bedside lamp.

“Chase, is that you?” she asked as the light went on and revealed him seated in an armchair, pulling off his boots.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” He set a boot on the floor next to its mate and began tugging his shirttail out of his pants to unbutton it. Tiredness gave a drawn and weary look to his ruggedly masculine features. There was an air of preoccupation about him despite the warm look he gave her.

“Have you been sitting up all this time talking?” The hands of the clock were approaching the midnight hour. Maggie had retired much earlier in the evening, her pregnant body demanding rest.

“Yes.”

She felt a flash of irritation at his closemouthed answer. Although Chase didn’t attempt to exclude her from business discussions, he still had that western tendency never to seek a woman’s counsel.

“Well?” The sharpness of chal

lenge was in her voice, prodding him to tell her what he was thinking because it was impossible to know how he felt about something when he was wearing that poker mask. “What’s your reaction to Dyson’s proposal?”

His mouth twisted into a hard, dry smile. “I’ll let you know after I’ve had a chance to run a private check on the man. There’s something in this for the senator, so I’m not about to take his recommendations of the man.” He paused, knowing he hadn’t really told her anything. “As to leasing part of the ranch for drilling purposes, I’m open to it. The days of cattlemen objecting to the presence of drilling rigs on their property have long since passed.”

“So you’ve decided to decide later.” Her arm grew tired of supporting her weight, so she positioned both pillows behind her and reclined against them.

“There’s no reason to rush. If there is gas or oil under that grass, it’ll still be there two months from now—or two years.” Chase stood up and began emptying his pants pockets. When he went to lay the contents on the occasional table by the chair, he noticed the small stack of mail sitting there. “What’s this?”

“A report came from the psychiatrist handling my brother’s case, and a short note from Culley, too.” Although she smiled, there was a troubled light in her green eyes. She knew the mental institution was the best place for her brother, but Culley was the only family she had. “The doctor said there’s been some improvement. It’s possible they might even let him have visitors soon.”

“Not until after the baby is born, Maggie.” His look hardened. “I don’t care if the doctor says you can see him tomorrow.”

“I’ll wait.” But not because he was ordering it. “The doctor feels it would be unwise in this stage of Culley’s treatment for him to learn that I’m going to have your baby. And it’s a fact I can’t easily hide.” The last was a weak attempt at a joke, but the hand she placed on her stomach was protective rather than a gesture designed to draw attention to her condition. It was Culley’s sick, unreasoning hatred of anything associated with a Calder that had driven him over the edge.

Chase fingered the envelope bearing the return address of the institution, but he didn’t remove the letter. “What did Culley have to say in his note?”

“He was concerned about his ranch and how the livestock had fared through the winter.” Her brother believed Maggie was managing the small O’Rourke family ranch that bordered a part of the Triple C Ranch on the north. It hadn’t been deemed wise to inform him it was being worked by Triple C riders.

A noncommittal sound came from his throat, acknowledging her reply, as Chase replaced the envelope on the table and finished undressing. Maggie shifted so he could use half the pillows when he slipped naked into the bed. But Chase wasn’t satisfied with that. He curved an arm beneath her and gathered her close to his side. The heat from his body flooded down her length, making her feel all toasty and warm.

“How are you feeling?” His head moved closer to hers as Chase nuzzled the silky black curls near her temple.

“Pregnant.” Maggie turned her head on the pillow to gaze at him, her lip corners curved inward with a hint of a smile.

His hand moved familiarly over her swollen stomach, thinly covered by her ivory silk nightgown. A marveling light darkened his eyes with pleasure when Chase felt a slight movement. “Our child is going to be an active character.”

Maggie’s expression grew serious. “If it’s a girl, I’d like to name her Cathleen, after my aunt.”

“Cathleen Calder.” He tested it out, then faintly nodded his approval. “I like it.”

“Good.” She sighed contentedly, a smile widening her mouth.

“Poor Ty pulled the night shift at the calving sheds,” Chase murmured while his gaze traveled over the heavy fullness of her breasts pushing against the lace-trimmed bodice of her gown.

“It must be freezing outside.” She suppressed a shudder and snuggled closer to the solid warmth of his long, muscled body.

A little groan came from him. “I love you, Maggie,” he muttered thickly and leaned over to hungrily cover her mouth with a needing kiss.

The lonely cry of a coyote drifted on the cold midnight air. Outside the calving sheds, the sky was a mass of brittle ice stars that seemed to touch the frozen Montana plains. A polar wind prowled around the buildings tucked in a pocket of the heaving land, driving the freezing temperature even lower.

Numbed by the brutal cold, Ty hunkered deeper into his coat and buried his chin and mouth in the sheepskin collar, using it to warm the air he breathed. There was hardly any sensation in his legs, making it awkward to walk, but he had to keep moving to keep the circulation going. The cold was making his nose run. He kept sniffing to clear it, breathing most of the time through his mouth. His arms were crossed in front of him, his gloved hands tucked under his armpits for extra protection.

The bare light bulbs, strung the length of the calving shed, were coated with dust that muted the glare of their bald light. Straw rustled under the hooves of the restless animals. The odd lowing of the confined cows was interspersed with the occasional muffled swearing of some cowboy.