The Colton Ransom. Marie Ferrarella

few minutes’ respite. “I’d be in your debt, ma’am.”

      She rolled her eyes at the salutation he used. “Oh, please. Having you call me ‘Ms. Gabby’ is bad enough. Please don’t call me ‘ma’am.’ It makes me feel absolutely ancient.”

      Trevor laughed shortly at the assessment. “Well, if it’s one thing you’re not, it’s ancient,” he told her. To him, especially since he had ten years on her, Gabriella Colton was barely older than a child.

      Gabby, however, took his response to be on the flirtatious side. Consequently, a slight blush crept up her cheeks. Dusting them with a pink hue.

      Clearing her throat, she tried to draw attention away from the momentary infusion of color. “Okay, give me Avery, and you hold Cheyenne for a few minutes.”

      The shift took a little maneuvering to accomplish since there was nowhere to put either infant down to achieve the swap smoothly.

      As he handed over his daughter and took hold of Gabby’s tranquil niece, Trevor felt his knuckles brush against something soft.

      By the expression on the young woman’s face—first startled, then embarrassed—he realized that he’d unwittingly brushed his knuckles against her breasts. That had not been his intention.

      “Sorry,” Trevor mumbled awkwardly.

      Gabby murmured a perfunctory “It’s okay,” deliberately avoiding making any eye contact. She drew his daughter against her, focusing on the infant’s wails of distress. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’re going to take you inside and make sure you take a nice, peaceful nap. Everything’ll be all better when you wake up again. I promise.”

      The instant his daughter left his arms, Trevor felt relief washing over him. Just to be rid of his wailing burden for even a few minutes felt like a much-longedfor blessing.

      Trevor took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. He looked up into Gabby’s bright green eyes. “Thanks,” he told her dutifully.

      Patting the baby’s bottom and cooing to her, Gabby glanced over to Avery’s father and smiled serenely. “Don’t mention it.”

      She sounded as if she meant it. Obviously crying babies didn’t seem to have any effect on her or her nerves. That put her one up on him, Trevor couldn’t help thinking.

      “I’ll be right back,” Gabby promised, turning on her heel and walking toward the entrance to the main wing of the house. The wing where the Coltons—she, her two older sisters, Amanda and Catherine, and her father—all lived. There was another wing for the staff and wranglers as well as a wing at the very farthest end of the mansion where her father’s ex-wife—his third—lived with her two adult children from a previous marriage, Tawny and Trip.

      It made for crowded living conditions at times, but on days like today, when everyone was gone, it felt as if she had an entire castle at her disposal.

      Gabby smiled to herself as she entered the house.

      Trevor gazed down warily at the infant in his arms. Part of him was waiting for the tiny female to burst into tears. But Cheyenne Colton remained quiet, staring up at him as if he were the newest wonder to come into her world.

      “I guess all babies don’t cry all the time,” Trevor theorized out loud.

      Gabby Colton’s niece was almost exactly the same age as his newly discovered daughter. But that was where, in his mind, the similarity ended. To his recollection, the infant he was currently holding hardly even whimpered, much less cried.

      On the other hand, it seemed as if Avery had done nothing but cry in the time she’d been with him. She’d worn away just about all of his nerves—not that he’d had all that many available to begin with.

      “Maybe she’s just grumpy—like her old man,” he guessed out loud.

      When he realized that he was actually talking to an infant, he abruptly stopped, feeling somewhat chagrined and annoyed with himself.

      Cheyenne looked up at him and gurgled as if to tell him that it was all right.

      “You’re not really a crybaby, are you?” Gabby said soothingly to the infant she was taking upstairs with her. “It’s all just new and scary to you, isn’t it? Not that I can actually blame you.

      “Your daddy’s a really handsome man,” Gabby went on. “And he’d look even more so if he just learned to smile once in a while. That scowl of his, though, I’ve got to admit is pretty scary,” she said, as if agreeing with something the infant in her arms had just told her. “Don’t worry. He’ll come around,” Gabby promised the baby with certainty. “He’ll see what a sweet little thing you can really be once you get used to everything, and his heart can’t help but melt then.”

      Coming to the landing, Gabby made an impulsive decision. “Tell you what, since Cheyenne’s already had her nap for the afternoon, why don’t we put you in her room so you can have a nice roomy crib to sleep in?”

      She shifted the infant so that she could look down into the small, round face, as if she were actually gauging the baby’s reaction.

      “Would you like that, sugar? Sure you would,” she told the child. “She’s got a room—and a crib—that are really pretty. They’re both fit for a little princess. I don’t mind telling you that her aunt Catherine and I had a hand in that,” Gabby went on proudly, sharing a confidence. “Catherine and I decided that her mommy needed something to cheer her up and get her mind off Cheyenne’s daddy taking off before she was even born. He didn’t even wait to find out if she was okay,” Gabby added sadly. She couldn’t understand someone behaving that way and felt that both Amanda and Cheyenne were better off without that man in their lives.

      “So we went all out and decorated the nursery as if Cheyenne were really a little princess. Today, you get to be that little princess for the afternoon,” she told Avery in a purposely breathless voice. The baby’s eyes were widening, as if she were literally digesting every word. “How about that, baby girl?” she asked, her smile now spreading from ear to ear.

      Gabby’s smile grew even wider since the baby had stopped crying and actually seemed to be listening to the sound of her soothing, upbeat cadence.

      That was what the baby needed, Gabby decided. To have someone talk to her as if she were a person, not just this—this thing to be saddled with, she concluded for lack of a better description.

      The only problem was, Gabby thought, how did she go about saying that to Trevor? She knew that the man probably wouldn’t take kindly to being told how to act toward his daughter. She doubted if Trevor was the kind to be open to any advice at all, constructive or not.

      Still, she did have his best interests at heart. His and Avery’s. All she wanted to do was just help both of them.

      “Maybe he’ll feel better after you wake up all rested and happy from your nap. You think so?” she asked. The baby made a noise that sounded a little like a squeak. “No, me neither. But we can always hope for the best, can’t we?” she asked.

      Leaning against the door, Gabby maneuvered the door lever with her elbow, managing to open it. She then pushed the door open with her back, angling her way into the large, airy bedroom.

      The nursery was decorated in all soft pinks and whites. All in all, it did indeed look like a bedroom fit for a princess, right down to the canopied white crib with its delicate musical mobile depicting fairies floating above her.

      “Well, here it is, your very own princesslike crib for the afternoon,” Gabby declared.

      After laying the infant gently down on her back, Gabby began to rub the baby’s tummy in slow, concentric circles. It was meant to soothe Avery and help the little girl fall asleep.

      Within a few minutes, the soothing, rhythmic motion worked wonders in calming the infant down. Just as she’d hoped.

      A