The Creed Legacy (36 page)
Authors: Linda Lael Miller
Tags: #Contemporary, #General, #Romance, #Fiction, #Historical, #Western, #Cowboys
Neither she nor Brody had spoken of love again, let alone marriage, but, for the time being, it didn’t matter. The lovemaking was exquisite, and they laughed constantly, she and Brody, and it was all right to live in the moment, because the moment was just fine the way it was.
For the first time in her life, Carolyn didn’t have a universal shopping list of things that
had
to happen for her life to work. Just showing up for whatever came next, being present to it, seemed to be enough.
The days had been wonderfully ordinary: she helped Brody with the ranch chores.
She quietly stitched the gypsy skirt back to its former glory.
She took care of Winston and sometimes Barney, and she watched as Brody’s big house rose against the sky, more complete with every passing day.
Now, in Conner and Tricia’s kitchen, surrounded by friends and family, Brody laid a hand on her shoulder and bent to whisper in her ear. “Let’s go,” he said. “I have something to show you.”
Carolyn nodded, a little flushed, and the two of them said the necessary goodbyes and left, riding in Brody’s pickup, with Barney proudly ensconced in the backseat. Winston preferred to remain at the lodge most of the time, not being big on wheeled conveyances of any sort.
Brody drove to the new house, parked out front.
The windows reflected an apricot-and-gold sunset, and the roof and walls looked sturdy enough to weather a century or two of Creeds, being born, growing up, falling in love and marrying and having children of their own, getting old gracefully and, in their own good time, going to their rest.
The thought made Carolyn’s heart swell.
Brody opened the truck door for her, and lifted Barney down from the backseat before walking toward the front entrance.
The double doors at the entrance were hand-carved, with the name
Creed
inscribed above them, on a massive lintel.
Carolyn paused to look up, admiring the effect, feeling the impact of that name lodge somewhere deep inside her, become an actual part of her.
Brody used his key, and one of the doors swung open when he gave it a slight push.
He turned to Carolyn, the last of the sunlight shining in his face and hair, and held out a hand to her. “One day soon,” he said, very quietly, “I hope to carry you over the threshold of this house as my wife, Carolyn.”
She stared at him. “Is that a proposal?” she dared, after a long moment of courage-gathering.
Brody cocked a grin at her, and she took the hand he offered her. “No,” he said. “That’s a separate thing.”
He pulled her into the big living room, and her eyes went immediately to the place above the magnificent fireplace, where the Weaver hung in her fine frame, a monument to grace and wisdom.
Carolyn smiled. In all the excitement over Tricia and baby Blue, and Bill Venable’s safe but unexpected return from the forest fire in New Mexico—he’d caught Carolyn during one of her brief stops at the shop and told her he’d had some kind of private epiphany and was now willing to do whatever it took to win Angela back—she’d forgotten about Primrose Sullivan’s wonderful batik, awaiting delivery over at the shop.
“Primrose brought the picture over a few days ago,” Brody said. “The contractor let her in, and some of the guys on his crew hung it for her, under her close supervision.”
Carolyn could just imagine Primrose directing this man hither and that man yon, making them move the Weaver a few inches to the right, then the left, until she was satisfied that its position was absolutely perfect.
“Beautiful,” Carolyn said, on a breath.
Brody took her into his arms, right there in the middle of the soon-to-be living room. “Marry me?” he asked, his voice husky.
Carolyn laughed for joy. Reality, as it turned out, was better than any fairy tale ever told. “Yes,” she said. “I’ll marry you, Brody Creed.”
“Soon? So I never have to spend even one night in this house without you?”
Her eyes burned. “Soon,” she confirmed. But there was still an element of their relationship that hadn’t been settled. “What about Joleen?”
Brody grinned, his hands moving slowly up and down Carolyn’s ribs, his head tilted slightly to one side. “Didn’t you hear the rumors? Joleen ran off with one of her customers from the café. According to the scuttlebutt, it’s love, a match made in heaven.”
“You don’t say,” Carolyn said.
Brody nibbled at her mouth. “I
do
say,” he murmured. “What about Mr. Coffee? The hot-shot firefighting pilot guy?”
“I knew who you meant,” Carolyn answered.
Brody simply raised both eyebrows and waited, but his hands were still subtly busy at her ribs and the outer rounding of her breasts.
“His name is Bill,” Carolyn said, in a coquettish tone, “and he’s not a ‘hot-shot firefighting pilot guy’ anymore. He agreed to take a year off from his job and work out of Denver as an airline executive while he and his new bride, Angela, and his very precocious daughter, Ellie, build themselves a family life.”
Brody took a deep breath, let it out as a long sigh. “It seems to be a trend,” he said, in a drawl that meant he’d be trying to make her clothes fall off for the next little while. And that he was bound to succeed. “People taking a chance on love, I mean.”
“Seems to be,” Carolyn agreed, watching his lips.
It was something, what Brody Creed could do with those lips.
He left her, walked over to the fireplace, took something from the high mantel and came back to her.
While Carolyn watched, amazed even after he’d used the words
marry me,
he dropped gracefully to one knee in front of her, held up a little velvet box and popped the lid.
An eye-popping diamond engagement ring glittered inside.
Carolyn gasped and put a hand to her throat.
Brody grinned a lopsided grin. “Here comes the formal proposal,” he said. “Will you, Carolyn? Will you be my wife? For better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, ’til death do us part?”
Carolyn sank to her knees, so they were approximately at eye level. “Yes, Brody,” she replied, “I will be your wife, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part. I will love you and I will honor you, but you can just forget that part about obeying, because that ain’t gonna happen.”
He laughed. “Fair enough,” he said. “Will you cook my supper every night, and have my babies?”
“I will have your babies,” she replied, smiling as he slid the ring onto her finger. “But I’m not much of a cook, so we’ll have to work something out regarding supper. Breakfast and lunch, too, for that matter.”
Eyes sparkling with amusement, and with love, Brody kissed her, lightly, briefly and with a hunger that aroused a corresponding need in her. “What if
I
make supper?” he countered. “I happen to be a pretty good hand with a skillet.”
“I thought you might be,” Carolyn said, slipping her arms around his neck and inclining her head toward the kitchen, “when I saw that fancy stove with all the burners.”
“I wish this place had a bed,” Brody grumbled, kissing her neck.
Carolyn drew him down, onto the floor, urging him on top of her just to feel the weight of him, the promise of his hardness and his heat. “Who needs a bed?” she asked, as his mouth descended to hers.
C
AROLYN AND
B
RODY
were married in early August at sunset, on the former swimming beach at River’s Bend, with the whole town and a good portion of Denver in attendance. Conner was the best man, Tricia the matron of honor and Melissa and Steven’s oldest, Matt, proudly served as ring-bearer.
Davis, handsome and comically uncomfortable in his Sunday suit, gave the bride away, while Kim looked on with tears of pure happiness glittering in her eyes.
Carolyn wore the now mended gypsy skirt, with a white camisole and a short silk jacket she’d made to go with the outfit, and Brody looked better than handsome in his jeans, crisply white Western shirt and sport jacket, his concession to formality.
Since it was summer, the sunset lasted well past the actual ceremony, gradually fading as a band struck up a romantic country tune inside the large, rented tent that stood where the lodge used to be.
There was dancing, and there was cake, but the evening was mostly a glad blur to Carolyn—whenever she looked at Brody, which was often, he was all she saw, and she knew by the expression in his eyes that he was under the same spell.
They were surrounded by friends and family, by music and light and love and laughter, but they might as well have been alone on the planet, just the two of them, they were so absorbed in each other. They’d eaten cake, and toasted each other with frothing flutes filled with ginger ale, and posed for endless pictures, images Carolyn knew she’d treasure for the rest of her life.
Davis, with a slight smile, walked up to them, shook Brody’s hand and politely asked if he might dance with the bride, since he’d been the one to give her away and all.
Carolyn smiled up at the man she thought of as her father-in-law now, as well as her good friend, and she remembered something he’d said to her, a few days before the wedding, when they’d all gathered at the main ranch house for a family dinner.
“When you marry a Creed,” Davis had announced, smiling at her, “you get all of us.”
Now, as they danced, as Kim and Brody joined them on the plank floor put down for the purpose, Chinese lanterns casting a multicolored glow, Davis squeezed her hand lightly. “Welcome to the family, Carolyn Creed,” he said, in that singular rumble of his. “And I don’t mind telling you, you took your sweet time about it.”
Carolyn—
Carolyn Creed
—laughed softly. “You sound like Tricia,” she replied. “And Kim. Were Brody and I the only people in Lonesome Bend who didn’t see this wedding coming?”
Davis grinned, and Carolyn smiled up at him as they danced. “Sure seemed like it,” he said. “There were times when I would have liked to thump your heads together. It was Tricia and Conner, all over again. They couldn’t see the forest for the trees in the beginning, either.”
“You know, don’t you, that you and Kim mean the world to Brody and Conner? And to Tricia and me, as well?”
“They’re my brother’s boys,” he said quietly, “and the spittin’ image of him, too. There’s never a day that I don’t miss Blue, and wish he was here with the rest of us, where he belongs, but if he had to go ahead and get himself killed, well, he left a fine legacy behind.” He glanced over, saw Conner cutting in to dance with Kim and Brody pretending to protest, and Davis’s eyes brightened until they shone. “I love them like my own.” He turned his head again, to face her. “And you and Tricia are the daughters we’ve always wanted.”
Carolyn let her forehead rest against Davis’s strong shoulder for a moment, overcome with emotion. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Davis chuckled and gave her a reassuring squeeze, and then Brody cut in, and she was dancing with her man, her cowboy, her
husband.
“I love you, Mrs. Creed,” he said, smiling into her eyes. “And I’m fixing to kiss you, right here and now, so get ready.”
She giggled.
He stopped the giggle with the promised kiss, complete with a pretty flashy dip and some serious tongueaction, and the whole gathering cheered.
“And I love
you,
” Carolyn replied, breathless, when it was over.
Brody curved a finger under her chin and lifted. “What do you say we get out of here, Mrs. Creed,” he said, “and leave these good people to party on to their hearts’ content?”
“I think that’s a fine idea, Mr. Creed,” she replied.
He led her outside.
They stood hand in hand in the weighted heat of an August night, watching the light of the moon and a bajillion stars dance on the surface of the river, singing as it passed.
In the morning, they’d be leaving on their honeymoon, location undisclosed, but Brody and Carolyn wanted to spend their wedding night in the new house. It seemed just right, for their life together to begin there.
Brody held on to her hand, and they walked toward home, following a glowing path of silvery moonlight.
It was magical. Something right out of a fairy tale but
better,
because it was real.
To Carolyn’s surprise, they passed by the house and headed toward the barn instead.
Inside the entrance, Brody flipped the light switch and Moonshine blinked at them from his stall, sleepily munching on a mouthful of grass hay.
Carolyn smiled and moved to pat the horse’s velvety nose, but Brody pulled her on past, stopping in front of the stall next to Moonshine’s.
A beautiful, snow-white gelding stood in the center of his space, splendid enough to pull Cinderella’s carriage.
Carolyn drew in her breath, laid a hand to her heart.
“He’s yours, if you’ll have him,” Brody said gently. “A wedding present from your lovin’ husband. His name’s Sugar-man, but you can change it if you want to. He’s gentle, but he’s spirited, too.”
Carolyn, in her shimmery skirt and special jacket, stepped up and clasped the rim of the stall door in both hands, already shaking her head. “I wouldn’t change a thing, Brody,” she said, turning to look into the face of the man beside her. “Not about him, and not about you.”
Brody kissed her gently. “When we get back from the honeymoon, well, I thought you might like to go riding with me. Maybe up to Hidden Lake?”
She smiled. “Brody Creed,” she said, “You’re the best thing that ever happened to me.”
He grinned that megawatt grin of his. “Back at you, pretty woman,” he said, bending his head to taste her mouth.
A warm shiver went through her.
“Isn’t it about time you carried me over the threshold, like you promised?” she asked, slipping her arms around his neck.
“I do believe it is,” he replied, after pretending to consider the matter for a few moments.
With that, they left the barn, walking on that same path of light, and when they reached the house, Brody Creed swept his bride up into his arms, kissed her again and said, “Hold on tight, lady. I think we’re in for quite a ride.”
Carolyn smiled. She knew he wasn’t just talking about their wedding night. He was talking about the rest of their lives.
