Forged in Fire (Delos Series Book 3) Read online

  Dara made herself comfortable against him, relaxed, her eyes half closed as she eagerly drank the rich, thick hot chocolate. She was as tired as he was.

  “How is Callie doing?” Matt asked.

  Placing the cup in her lap, she said, “Better now that Beau is with her.”

  “We crossed paths in Rota, Spain,” Matt told her. “He managed to get the last seat on a C-5 coming to Andrews. He said he was flying in to see her at the Montana ranch.”

  “Yes, I talked to her last night and she was so happy to see him.” Dara added, “There’s something good going on between them, Matt. Something real. I can hear it in her voice.”

  “I know Beau likes her a helluva lot,” Matt admitted. “He was worried that she would blame him for what happened to her.”

  “No,” Dara said, shaking her head, sipping the chocolate. “Callie wouldn’t do that. She understood Beau was trying to attack the group from the rear, pull them off her trail and lure them away from where she was hiding. He had no idea how close they really were to Callie. That’s not his fault.”

  “I think that’s in Beau’s head, not Callie’s.”

  “You’re right.”

  “Is Beau staying with her over Christmas?”

  “Yes, he’s staying at the ranch for his thirty days of leave.” Dara sighed and finished off the cup of hot chocolate. “Callie was thrilled when she found out. I really think it’s going to help her, Matt. Beau was part of her traumatic experience, but she sees him as the good guy, the one person who can help her stand on her own feet again.”

  “Beau’s a damn fine team member, Dara. He’s dirt-honest and never pulls any punches.”

  She gave him a worried look. “Does he have someone else in his life, Matt?”

  “Nope. Single and unattached.”

  “That’s good. The way Callie is feeling right now, she doesn’t think to ask the obvious questions, and this was one of them.” She placed the emptied cup on the coffee table and then turned toward him.

  “Beau would never hurt her, Dara. He’s a kind person. I know that sounds like an oxymoron because he’s a Delta Force operator, but he cares deeply for Callie. It’s just not in his bones to hurt anyone unless they’ve raised a gun in his direction. Then? All bets are off.” He reached over, gently moving his hand down her shoulder and upper arm. “So can you let the worry go? He’ll take good care of Callie. I think she needs a good, strong man like him in her life right now. She can lean on him and not be afraid that he’ll let her fall.”

  Dara laid her hands on his thighs, which were so ripped that they stretched the material of the jeans he wore. As she looked him in the eyes, her voice became choked and she whispered, “And I feel the same way about you. You took such good care of me out there in Afghanistan, Matt. You and Beau are almost like brothers.”

  He slid his hands over hers. “I consider Beau the brother I didn’t have, Dara. We’re that close. That’s why I can sit here and tell you to stop worrying, because I know Beau like few others. He’s saved my life so many times, I’ve lost count. He comes off as a hill person, but he’s so damned intelligent that it’s scary. He hides it under that drawl and country boy personality of his, but believe me, his insight into people is deep. I’m sure he understands where Callie is at, and he’ll gently get her pried loose so she can let go and then start shedding that incident. He’s good with animals, and he’s good with humans. That’s saying a lot about a man.”

  Dara leaned forward, seeking and finding his lips. “You’ve eased my worry. Thank you … Come to bed with me? Hold me? Let me fall asleep in your arms?”

  Matt wanted nothing more and gently eased her across his lap, her arms curling around his shoulders. “Hang on,” he told her, lifting her up and carrying her through the warm apartment. Matt heard her sigh and utterly relax in his grasp. Dara rested her head on his shoulder, brow against his jaw.

  “I can’t believe how handsome you really are without that beard. Who knew?”

  Matt smiled. “I was a little concerned you might not like my mug once you saw it.” He toed open the door, revealing a huge king-sized bed with a blue quilt with a Texas lone star across it. More cowboy and ranch décor from her ranch world. These things meant something emotionally comforting to Dara, signifying happy memories, he hoped. The dresser was dark oak and at least a hundred years old, with old brass handles on each drawer. There was a modern-day hurricane lamp with a small light in it. A handmade brown, white, and black braided rug, oval in shape, sat beneath the bed and part of the room. The floors were old, dark blond oak as well. There were frilly white curtains with a thick barrier of dark blue behind them to keep the light out at night.

  “You look like a male model, Matt.”

  He deposited her gently on the bed, going to close the door. “Model? I’ve been called a lot of things, but never that.” He grinned. “Maybe you’re a tad prejudiced?”

  She shrugged out of her pink robe, revealing a silky pink long-sleeved gown. “First and foremost, you’re a warrior,” she said. Pulling the robe away, she hung it over a nearby chair. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she added, “A very, very good-looking warrior. And no, I’m not prejudiced. Just honest.”

  Matt crouched down, his hands resting lightly on her lower thighs, the cool of the silk beneath his fingers. He peered at the now-healed cut across her knee.

  “How’s this doing?” He lightly grazed it, pleased with the stitches he’d sewn across it.

  “Fine,” she said, sliding her fingers through his short hair, watching the play of gold and brown as she sifted through the strands. “Completely healed, thanks to you.”

  Matt leaned into her palm, his hands tightening fractionally against her curved thighs. “Been keeping up with your belly dancing?”

  “Absolutely. It’s the way I take off the stress that accumulates by the ton at the hospital. If I couldn’t dance, I don’t know what I’d do.”

  “Well,” he murmured, easing to his feet and unbuckling his belt, “how about if I hold you while you sleep?” Because he was clear about his love for Dara. It felt as if they were picking up after seeing one another just yesterday. Only it had been two miserably lonely weeks without her.

  Her hair glinted like gleaming liquid gold in the lamplight, the shadows gently showing off her high cheekbones and the velvet of skin he wanted to taste, lick, kiss, and nip—not necessarily in that order. She was to be eaten, relished, worshipped, and thoroughly and completely loved. Matt knew he could do all of that for her.

  “You know, sex is a great stress reliever, too,” he said, trying not to smile as he pulled off his shirt and placed it on a nearby chair. He wore a white T-shirt beneath it, which he pulled up and over his head. Dara’s eyes changed, her lips parting as her gaze moved approvingly across his chest and shoulders. Yes, she liked what she saw. So did he. They were probably not going to get much sleep tonight …

  CHAPTER 22

  December 25

  Dara felt breathless from all the joyous celebration on Christmas morning. Matt had stayed with her every night at her apartment. During the days leading up to this morning, she had worked at the hospital. Even though she was on call, so far, there were no requests for her to get to the hospital for a pediatric emergency. She crossed her fingers that it would remain quiet so she could enjoy Matt’s family Christmas dinner.

  Now she sat on a cream-colored leather couch with Tal and Wyatt. Every member of the Culver family had given her a gift for Christmas, and she felt bad because she’d only had three gifts to give: one to Matt, one to Dilara, and one to Tal. She’d promised Alexa a late gift because she’d run out of time to knit her a pair of slippers, too.

  Matt had told her not to worry about it, that his extended family expected nothing from her except a hug and a kiss on the cheek. That was a gift to his relatives.

  Dara had never been around Turkish and Greek people until just now. Matt had guided her through all the names of his aunts and uncles. Dara loved Un
cle Ihsan the most. She’d found out from Matt that the Turkish side of his family was Sufi Muslim. The Sufi way was through the heart, with love and compassion for all—human, animal, and earth. Dara liked that idea of a heart-centered belief system. Matt’s cousin Angelo and his wife, Maria, were Greek Orthodox and from Athens, Greece.

  Best of all, she got to spend time not only with buoyant Dilara but her husband, Robert, as well. Now Dara could see where Matt got his easygoing nature. She knew little of the military world but was aware that Robert’s being a general was a big deal. And when his two brothers, John and Pete, and their wives had come over for the Christmas opening of gifts that morning, she was amazed at how closely Robert’s two younger brothers resembled him in facial features and height. They, too, were in the military. One a general, the other an admiral.

  Matt had gotten his father’s height, but she saw Dilara’s exotic model features in his face, his olive complexion and his drop-dead good looks. Uncle Ihsan had Matt’s exact gold-brown eye color, so she knew where that had come from. And she thought that while Uncle Berk and Serkan were equally kind, Matt took after Uncle Ihsan the most. It was fun for her to see the different genetic parts that made up Matt. He also had Cousin Angelo’s lionlike gold and brown hair.

  Alexa, the youngest sibling, was picking up the wrapping paper strewn all around the eight-foot-tall Christmas tree in the corner of the huge living room. She was high-energy, and Dara felt she really took after her mother’s Turkish side.

  The fireplace snapped and popped, warming the area behind the black wrought-iron screen. There was Christmas music playing softly in the background and Dara loved the festive atmosphere. She smiled, hearing Turkish, Greek, and English mingling among the vocal, enthusiastic, and passionate groups. Tal, Alexa, and Matt spoke the three languages with natural ease.

  Dilara came to her and leaned over, pressing a kiss to Dara’s cheek. “Thank you for the lovely knitted slippers, Dara.” She held up the gold and red pair in her hand. “I can use these. How did you know?”

  Dara smiled, amazed that although the woman’s family was worth billions, she was warm, genuine, and sincere with everyone. “Matt told me they’re your favorite colors. I’m glad you like them, Dilara. I double-knitted the soles so they’d last a bit longer.”

  “Well, my sweet girl,” she said, pinching her cheek gently, “they are priceless, like you.” Dilara gave Matt a significant look of satisfaction and then beamed down at her, moving on.

  “What was that look for?” Dara asked Matt. She saw a dull red crawl into his cheeks. This was the first time she’d seen him blush. “Whatever it is, it’s got to be serious,” she teased, slipping her hand into his.

  “Oh,” he said glibly, “it is. Let’s go to the sunroom for a bit, okay?”

  “Will they mind?” she asked, standing with him, her hand in his.

  “Nope,” Matt assured her. “Mom and Maria are going to serve Turkish hot chocolate with Maria’s Greek baklava in about half an hour. It’s a family tradition after we open the gifts on Christmas morning. Everyone looks forward to it. We’ll be back in time for that.”

  “Yummy. I love that hot chocolate!”

  Matt grinned, tugging her along as they wound through and around the wrapping paper and bows scattered across the cherrywood floor. Alexa had already filled one plastic trash bag and was now on her second one.

  Mystified, Dara followed him. Matt had given her a quick tour of his parents’ Federal-style home, which was at least eight thousand square feet. There were eight bedrooms and eight bathrooms. Obviously, their global family flew in and visited them often. The happiness flowing throughout the house made Dara smile. She missed being at the ranch house her parents shared with her grandparents. And she missed Callie but Beau Gardner was there, like a wonderful Christmas gift to her, and Dara knew it was helping Callie recover from her trauma.

  It was snowing outside the six-sided sunroom. Dara loved the small white metal settee, the maple coffee table, and the gold curtains framing each window. Matt drew her down beside him on the settee, their knees touching one another. He appeared nervous—over what, she had no idea.

  She folded her hands in the lap of her black wool pantsuit. She’d worn a festive, bright red silk blouse and allowed her blond hair to remain down. Matt was forever touching her hair, sliding his fingers through it and telling her how beautiful she looked with it long. He made her feel special.

  “Now,” Matt told Dara as he took her hands, “I don’t want what I have to say to pressure you, okay?”

  She smiled a little. “Okay.” Curious, Dara watched him lean back and pull a black velvet case from between two planters. How like Matt to hide something. His black ops background was coming out, and her lips quirked. “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to it.

  Matt cleared his throat, taking her hand in his. “Ever since I met you and saw you belly dance, you’ve had my heart, Dara.” He searched her eyes, his voice going low with emotion. “I know we’ve just met, that we need time together to get to know one another better, but I wanted to give you these rings on Christmas Day as a promise to you.” He swallowed. “I love you, Dara. I fell hard for you from the very first time I saw you dancing.” He released her hand.

  Fingers trembling slightly, Matt opened the box. “When you’re ready, I want to marry you. There’s no rush. We have the time because I’ll be home on March first, for good. I just wanted you to know my commitment to you.” Matt gave her a wistful look, his voice gruff. “I never thought about meeting the right woman and settling down. That just wasn’t on my radar until you dropped into my life.” He managed a crooked, bashful smile. “Do I have a chance with you? Is this what you want, too, Dara? Or is it just me?” He held the box out toward her.

  Dara felt tears blur her vision. “These are beautiful, Matt.” She lightly skimmed the diamond ring set with her fingertips.

  “They’re from my great-great-grandmother, Damia, on the Turkish side of my family,” he admitted. “I know they look old. They’re out-of-date—”

  “But I love them,” Dara whispered, holding his unsure gaze, seeing how nervous he really was. Her heart opened wide and she said, “I love you, Matt. And I think we fell in love with one another from the first time we met. I never thought something like that could happen. I really didn’t.” Dara pulled the rings from the velvet, placing them in her palm, touching them gently. “I agree, we need time.”

  “Yes.”

  She held out the engagement ring, a solitaire diamond surrounded on two sides with four smaller diamonds. “But I want to wear this for us.”

  “Really?” Matt intently assessed her, a little shocked.

  Laughing a little, Dara said, “Really. Will you slip it on my finger?” She placed it in his hand, holding out her left one toward him. A powerful swell of love flowed through Dara as Matt gently eased the ring onto her finger. It was a little loose, but she didn’t mind. It could be sized down to fit her finger.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, holding her hand so that in the light, the diamonds glinted radiantly, even on this snowy December day.

  “You’re beautiful,” Matt growled, sliding his hands around her face, taking her mouth, and kissing her with all the love he held in his heart.

  A small sound of pleasure vibrated in her throat as she opened her mouth, savoring the taste of him, inhaling his male scent, glorying in his hands holding her so tenderly. Dara drowned in the joy they shared, their lingering kisses, because she loved this man. He was such a warrior, but in moments like this, he reminded her more of a bashful little boy who was unsure of himself.

  The fact that he’d allow her to see those sides of himself, be vulnerable with her, meant the world to Dara. So many men couldn’t do what Matt had just done. And that willingness to bare all to her was a greater gift than any Christmas present she’d ever received.

  As they drew apart, Dara wanted to take him to bed once again. “Is this my real Christmas gift?” sh
e asked innocently.

  He slid his hand down across her hair. “Yes.” Earlier Matt had given her a thin gold necklace with deep blue faceted sapphires embedded in it, matching the color of her eyes.

  She leaned forward, resting her lips against his, and whispered, “You are my gift. You always will be …”

  Dara floated on the joy of their promised union as Matt guided her through the house later, his hand cupping her elbow. He was going to make the official announcement to his family. They knew beforehand that he was going to ask her to be his wife. Now Matt could tell them that they were officially engaged.

  Everyone had known except her, but Dara didn’t mind. This was such a tight, loving family that she understood they were like a hive of bees, so very connected to one another.

  As Matt drew her into the living room, everyone stopped talking and all eyes settled on them. Matt grinned and announced, “Dara said yes.”

  The whole room exploded in cheers, cries, shouts, tears, and smiles. Dara wasn’t prepared for the whole family to stand, rush forward and embrace her and Matt, hugging, kissing, and squeezing the breath out of her. The joy on their faces made her laugh with sheer happiness.

  She was going to be a part of this vocal, passionate, noisy family. And she loved it!

  Finally, when all the congratulations were said in three languages, Matt asked everyone to sit down. He explained that they were going to wait to decide on a marriage date because they needed time to live together, settle in, and let time show their warts to each other.

  That drew a big laugh and the sage nodding of many heads. Uncle Ihsan threw them a thumbs-up, and everyone agreed and nodded.

  Dilara was dabbing her eyes with a white linen handkerchief, trying not to spoil her mascara. When Matt finished speaking, she made an emotional announcement: “Great-grandmother Damia said on her deathbed, Dara, that she saw a beautiful woman with sunlit hair who would wear the ring she’d worn for sixty-five years.”

  Dara’s hand flew to her lips. “Really?” she gasped in disbelief. She felt Matt’s arm go around her shoulders, drawing her gently against him.