The Wedding In White Read online

  "I don't have time to argue with you. Get in the car. I'll lock the door."

  "How are we going to get there?" Vivian asked as she herded her tall brothers outside.

  "I've got a charter jet on the way."

  "Flying," Bob told his sibling. "That's cool."

  "Yeah, I like flying," Charles agreed.

  "Well, I don't," Vivian muttered. "But it's quicker than driving."

  She piled into the front seat with Mack while the two boys got in back. All the way to the airport, Mack drove like a maniac. By the time they arrived, the three passengers had held their collective breaths long enough to qualify as deep-sea divers.

  They spilled out in the parking lot at the small airport. The jet was already there, as the charter service had promised, gassed up and ready, with its door open and the ladder down.

  Mack didn't say a word until he shook hands with the pilot and copilot and got into the back with his sister and brothers. Until now, he'd had the organization of the trip to keep his mind off the danger of the situation.

  Now, with hours with nothing to do but think during the flight, he recalled what the surgeon had said to him—that Natalie could die. He had no idea what had happened. He had to know. He pulled the cell phone he always carried from his pocket and, after checking with the pilot that it was safe to use once they were in the air, he got the number of the Dallas hospital and bullied his way verbally to a resident in the emergency room. He explained who he was, asked if the fax had been received and was told that Miss Brock was in surgery. They had no report on her condition, except that there was at least one stab wound and one of her lungs had collapsed. The resident was sorry, but he had no further information. Mack told him an approximate arrival time and hung up.

  "A knife wound?" Bob exclaimed. "Our Nat?"

  "She's a teacher," Vivian said miserably. "Some students are very dangerous these days."

  "She teaches grammar school," Mack said disgustedly. "How could a little kid stab her?"

  "It might have been someone related to one of the little kids," Charles offered.

  Vivian brushed back her blond hair. "It's my fault if she dies," she said quietly.

  "She's not going to die," Mack said firmly. "Don't talk like that!"

  She glanced at him, saw his expression and put her hand over his. "Okay. I'm sorry."

  He averted his face, but he didn't shake off her hand. He was terrified. He'd never been so frightened in all his life. If he lost Natalie, there was nothing in the world to live for. It would be the end, the absolute end of everything.

  Chapter 9

  When Natalie regained consciousness, there was a smell of antiseptic. Her side ached. Her lung hurt. She had a tube up her nose, and it was irritating her nasal passages. She felt bruised and broken and sick. Her eyes opened slowly to a white room with people in green gowns, moving around a room that only she seemed to occupy.

  She blinked hard, trying to get her eyes to focus. Obviously, she was in a recovery room. She couldn't remember how she got there.

  A deep voice, raised and urgent, was demanding access to her, and a nurse was threatening to call security. It didn't do any good. He was finally gowned and masked and let in, because a riot was about to ensue in the corridor.

  There was a breeze and then a familiar face with a black eye patch hovered just above her. She couldn't quite focus. Her mind was foggy.

  A big, warm hand spread against her cheek, and the one eye above her was much brighter than she remembered it. It seemed to be wet. Impossible, of course. She was simply dreaming.

  "Don't you die, damn it!" he choked huskily. "Do you hear me, Natalie? Don't you dare!"

  "Mr. Killain," one of the nurses was trying to intervene.

  He ignored her. "Natalie, can you hear me?" he demanded. "Wake up!"

  She blinked again. Her eyes barely focused. She was drifting in and out. "Mack," she whispered, and her eyes closed again.

  He was raving mad. She heard him tossing orders around as if he were in charge, and she heard running feet in response. She would have smiled if she'd been able. Every woman's dream until he opened his mouth...

  She didn't know that she'd spoken aloud, or that the smile had been visible.

  Mack had one of her small hands in his with a death grip. Now that he could see her, touch her, he was breathing normally again. But she looked white, and her chest was barely moving. He was scared to death, and it displayed itself in venomous bad temper. Somebody would probably run him out any minute, maybe arrest him for causing a disturbance. But he'd have gone through an armed camp to get to her, just to see her, to make sure that she was alive. He couldn't have imagined himself like this not so long ago.

  Neither could his siblings, who stood in awe of him as he broke hospital rules right and left and sent veteran health-care workers running. This was a Mack they'd never seen before. It was obvious that he was in love with the woman lying so still and quiet in the recovery room. All of them looked at each other, wondering why they hadn't realized it a long time ago.

  The surgeon—presumably the one who'd spoken to him on the telephone—came into the recovery room still wearing his operating clothes. He looked like a fire-eater himself, tall and dark.eyed and taciturn.

  "Killain?" he asked.

  "Yes." Killain let go of Natalie's limp hand long enough to shake the surgeon's. "How is she?"

  "Lost a lower lobe of her lung," he said. "There was some internal bleeding and we'll have to keep her here for a while. The danger now is complications. But she'll make it," he added confidently.

  Mack felt himself relax for the first time in hours. "I want to stay with her," he said bluntly.

  The doctor raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "I think that's fairly obvious to the staff," he mused. "Since you're a relative, I don't have an objection. But we would prefer to have you wait until we can get her out of recovery and into a room. Meanwhile, it would help if you'd go to the business office and fill out some papers for her. She was brought in unconscious."

  Mack hesitated, but Natalie was asleep. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to leave her, just briefly. "All right," he said finally.

  The surgeon didn't dare look as relieved as he felt. He pointed Mack toward the business office, noticing that three younger people fell in step behind him. The victim apparently had plenty of family to look after her. That lightened his step as he went toward the operating theater to start the next case.

  Several hours later, Natalie opened her eyes again, groggy from the anesthetic and hurting. She groaned and touched her side, which was heavily bandaged.

  A big, warm hand caught hers and lifted it away. "Be careful. You'll pull out the IV," a familiar voice said tenderly. It sounded like Mack. It couldn't be, of course.

  She turned her head and there he was. She managed a smile. "I thought I was dreaming," she murmured drowsily.

  "The nurses don't. They think they're having a nightmare," Bob said with a wicked glance at his brother.

  "I saw an orderly run right out the front door," Charles added dryly.

  "Shut up," Mack said impatiently.

  "He just wants to make sure you're properly looked after, Nat," Vivian said, coming close enough to brush back Natalie’s hair. "You poor baby," she added softly. "We're all going to take care of you."

  "That's right," Bob agreed.

  "You belong to us," Charles added firmly.

  Mack didn't say anything.

  Too groggy to understand much of what was going on, Natalie managed another weak smile and then grimaced. But after a minute she relaxed and went back to sleep.

  Vivian studied the apparatus she was hooked to. "I think this has a painkiller unit that automatically injects her every few minutes. I'm going to ask someone."

  Without another word, she went into the hall.

  Bob and Charles shared a speaking glance and announced that they were going after coffee, offering to bring back a cup for their big brother.

  Mack just
nodded. He only had eyes for Natalie. It was like coming home after a long journey. He didn't want to do anything except sit there and look at her. Even in her weak, wan condition, she was beautiful to him. His hand curled closer around hers and gripped it securely.

  All the things he'd said came back to haunt him. How could he ever have doubted her? She wouldn't lie to him. Somewhere deep inside he knew that. So only one reason for his immediate assumption of her guilt was left. He'd been fighting a rearguard action against her gentle presence with the last bit of willpower he possessed. He was blind in one eye. Someday, he might lose his sight in the other, as well. He had the responsibility for his two brothers and his sister until they could stand on their own. He hadn't felt that it was fair to inflict all that on a young woman like Natalie.

  But ever since the crisis had developed, his family had been united behind him and shared his concern for Natalie. They loved her, too. He knew that there would inevitably be conflicts, hopefully small ones, but he'd seen what life without her would be like, and anything was preferable. He'd do whatever he could to make her happy, to keep her safe. Of course, when she was her old self again, she was going to want to knock him over the head with a baseball bat. He was resigned to even that.

  The first order of business was to get her well. He was going to take her back to Montana if he had to wrap her in sheets tied at both ends. She might not like it, but she'd have to go. She didn't have anyplace else to recuperate, and she couldn't work. At the ranch, the four of them could take turns sitting with her.

  While he was considering possibilities, Vivian came back. "It automatically injects painkillers," she announced with a smile. "I spoke with the duty nurses at their station. They have computers everywhere with records and charts...." She glanced at her brother with a self-conscious smile. "It fascinates me. I didn't realize nursing was so challenging, or so complicated."

  "I haven't seen a lot of nurses in here," he remarked darkly. She grinned at him. "You will when you leave," she said, tongue in cheek.

  "Don't you start," he muttered.

  She hugged him and sat in the chair on the other side of the bed. "Why don't you go and get something to eat? I'll sit with Nat."

  He shook his head. He had her hand firmly in his and he wasn't letting go until he knew for certain that she wasn't trying to give up.

  "Want some coffee?" she persisted.

  "The boys went to bring some back."

  "Okay. In that case, I think I'll walk down to the canteen and get a bag of potato chips and a soft drink."

  "Good idea."

  She smiled to herself as she went out. He hadn't spared her a glance. She could read him like a book. He was afraid that if he left, Natalie might not recover. He was going to keep her alive by sheer will, if he had to. Vivian couldn't blame him for being concerned. Natalie did look so white and thin lying there. Vivian blamed herself for Natalie's condition. If she hadn't been so horrible, none of this would have happened. She had yet to make her own apologies. But it was nice to know that Nat would be around to hear them. She wandered down the corridor.

  Back in the room, Mack leaned forward to study Natalie's sleeping face. "Poor little scrap," he murmured softly, touching her cheek with a touch light enough not to disturb her. "How did I ever think I could manage without you?"

  At some level, she was aware that he was speaking to her. But she was fighting the pain and the drugs, and her mind was foggy. She felt his touch, first on her cheek and then lightly brushing her mouth. He was whispering in her ear, words that sounded like the softest kind of endearments. At that point, she was sure she was dreaming. Mack never used endearments....

  It was late that night before she returned to something approaching consciousness. She looked around the room with surprised amusement. Vivian was asleep in the chair by the radiator. Mack was sprawled, snoring faintly, in the chair beside her bed, with her hand still gripped in his. Beside him, on the floor, Bob and Charles were asleep sharing a blanket on the cold linoleum. She could only imagine the nursing staff's frustration trying to work around them. And wasn't there some rule about the number of visitors and how long they could stay? Then she remembered the uproar Mack had caused on his arrival, and she imagined he'd broken every rule they had already.

  "Mack?" she whispered. Her voice barely carried. She tried again. "Mack?"

  He stirred sleepily, and his eye opened at once. He sat up, increasing his firm hold on her hand. "What is it, sweetheart?"

  The endearment was disconcerting. He stood and came closer, bending over her with evident concern. "Tell me," he asked softly. "What do you want?"

  She searched his face with hungry eyes. It had been weeks since she'd seen him. There was something different....

  "You've lost weight," she whispered.

  His gaze fell to her hand in his. "So have you."

  She wanted to tell him that she'd been only half alive without him, that it was the lack of him in her life that had aged her. But she couldn't say that. She'd been hurt and someone had called him. Probably her serious condition had caused Vivian to finally tell him the truth. He'd come out of guilt. Perhaps they all had.

  She pulled her hand out of his and laid it across her chest. "I don't need anything," she said, averting her face. "Thank you," she added politely.

  The effect of that cool, polite reply hit him hard. She was conscious again, and she'd be remembering their last meeting and what he'd said to her. He put his hands deep in his pockets and studied her for a long minute before he went to the chair and sat down. The breath he let out was audible.

  She was still groggy enough that she went back to sleep at once. Mack didn't. He sat brooding, watching her, until the first rays of dawn filtered through the Venetian blinds. Around him, the boys and Vivian began to stir.

  Vivian got up and looked out the door, noticing the bustle of early-morning duty shifts. "Why don't you three go get us a nice hotel suite and have a bath. I'll stay here with Natalie while they get her bathed and fed. By the time you come back, she'll be ready for visitors."

  Mack was reluctant. Vivian pulled him out of the chair. "You're absolutely dead on your feet, and you look fifty," she said. "You're not going to be any good to anybody until you get some rest. Have you slept at all?"

  He grimaced. "She woke up in the night," he said, as if that explained it all. His face was drawn with worry and guilt. "She remembered what I said to her. It was in her eyes."

  "She'll remember what I said, too," Vivian replied. "We'll get through it. She's not a person who holds grudges. It will be all right."

  He hesitated. "She isn't going to want to go home with us," he realized. His face began to tauten. "But she will, if I have to put her in a sack! If she wakes up before I come back, you tell her that!"

  The loud tones woke Natalie. She winced as she moved, and her chest hurt, but her eyes lifted to Mack's hard face, and they began to sparkle. She struggled to sit up. "I'm not going... any where with you, Mack Killain," she told him in as strong a tone as she could manage in her depleted condition. "I wouldn't walk to the...elevator with you!"

  "Calm down," Vivian said firmly, easing her down on the pillows. "When you've gotten your strength back, I'll get you a frying pan and you can lay about him with it. In fact, I'll even bend over and give you a shot at me. But for now," she added softly, "you have to get well. You can only stay in the hospital until you're back on your feet. But full recuperation takes longer—and you can't stay by yourself."

  Bob and Charles were awake and crowding around the bed with their siblings.

  "Right," Charles said firmly, looking so much like his older brother that it was uncanny. "We'll all take care of you."

  "I'll hook up my game system and teach you how to play arcade games," Bob offered.

  "I'll teach you chess," Charles seconded.

  "I'll teach you how to be a real pain in the neck," Vivian added, tongue in cheek. "I think I wrote the book on it."

  Natalie wavered
as her eyes went to Mack. His gaze was steady on her face, quiet, and he looked almost vulnerable. Maybe it was a trick of the light.

  "You could teach her how to jump to conclusions," Vivian murmured dryly.

  "I learned that from you," he shot right back. He turned to Natalie. "I'm not coaxing. You're coming back with us, one way or the other, and that's the end of it."

  Natalie's eyes started flashing. "You listen here, Mack Killain!"

  "No, you listen," he interrupted firmly. "I'm going to talk to the surgeon and find out what sort of care you need. I'll hire a private nurse and get a hospital bed moved in. Whatever it takes."

  Natalie's small fist hit the bedcovers in frustration. That hurt her chest, and she grimaced.

  "Temper, temper," Mack said mockingly. "That won't get you anywhere."

  "I am not a parcel to be picked up and carried off," she raged. "I don't belong to you!"

  He lifted one eyebrow. "In one way or another," he said very quietly, "you've belonged to me since you were seven-teen." He turned to Vivian. "I'll take the boys to a hotel and come back in a couple of hours. I'll phone you as soon as we're settled and you can get in touch with us if you need to."

  "Okay," Vivian said with a smile. "Don't worry," she added when he hesitated at the door. "I'll take good care of her."

  He still hesitated, but after a minute he shot a last, worried look at a furious Natalie and followed the boys into the hall. "I won't go!" Natalie choked out.

  Vivian went close to the bed and gently smoothed Natalie's hair from her forehead. "Yes, you will," she said gently. "Mack and I have a lot to make up to you. I was so jealous of you that I couldn't stand it. I thought I'd die if I couldn't have Whit." She shook her head sorrowfully. "You know, he even lied to me that he'd been making out with you. You were both downstairs for almost an hour and I didn't have a clue that Mack had come home in the meantime," she added ruefully, watching Natalie blush as she recalled what she and Mack had been doing during that time. "Whit said he'd found you more receptive than I'd ever been. It was a major misunderstanding all around, and the lie I told Mack, that I'd seen you and Whit together, didn't do anything to help matters."