Spring Brides

by Judith Stacy

  “He’s cute,” Juliette ventured.

  Tru grunted. The calf was far from it—not when he was just-born scrawny and hadn’t been cleaned yet by his mother—but Tru refrained from disagreeing with her. The little critter rooted eagerly for his first taste at the udder, acting starved for it.

  Tru feasted his eyes on them. An appetite like that was a good sign. Hungry calves grew into swarthy bulls with a healthy sexual drive. In a few years, his herd of prime stock would be increasing in leaps and bounds. Before long his three hundred acres wouldn’t be big enough to feed them all.

  “You can’t ignore me forever, Tru McCord,” Juliette said stiffly.

  His thoughts scattered, and he faced her again. “Nothing you can say will make me give up my land.”

  “You won’t be giving it up in the strictest sense of the word.” Tru figured she had to work to keep the desperation out of her voice. “You’ll have made a business decision, a very profitable one, I might add, which will allow you a variety of different options.”

  “Such as?”

  He’d thought the situation through inside and out. There wasn’t anything she could offer him that he hadn’t thought of first, but he figured she had a right to talk now that she was here.

  “You could lease your stock to another rancher,” she said. “Live in town and conduct your business from there.”

  Let someone else have his prize bull? He nearly choked on the idea.

  “No,” he said roughly.

  “Or you could rent someone’s land,” she continued, talking a little faster. “Live there and take care of your cattle, just like you’re doing here.”

  “No.” He’d have to pay to rent someone else’s land, and what would he do when the money ran out? Right now, he didn’t have a margin of profit to work from. Eventually he would, but not now. It was all he could do to pay his bills.

  “Or you could take your money and—and go back to school.” She hesitated. “I understand you left your studies at Creighton University after your father died.”

  “No thanks to yours,” he growled.

  “You wanted to be a veterinarian back then, didn’t you?” She went on as if he’d never spoken. “Why, you still can, Tru. The money I’m prepared to pay you for this land will easily cover the tuition fees.”

  It had been his dream once, to become a respectable veterinarian. He had a way with animals. Always had. He’d wanted to open his own practice and help the area ranchers care for their stock with the latest techniques and medicines.

  He didn’t think about it much anymore. His dream was gone forever, replaced with the burning desire to develop a new breed of cattle. With the little bull calf, he succeeded. To keep the dream alive, to build and soar with it, he needed his land.

  She just had to accept that.

  “‘No’ to all your suggestions, Miss Blanchard. Discussion closed.”

  He left the pen and headed toward the water pump. He had a strong hankering for a bar of soap. His shirt was soiled beyond wearing, and smelling like he did, he doubted Juliette would follow too closely.

  He was wrong.

  Her fingers gripped his wrist and pulled with more strength than he expected. She moved damn quick, considering he was determined to put distance between them, and when he faced her, her nearness yanked the breath right out of his lungs.

  He’d forgotten that the top of her head just reached his chin. But he hadn’t forgotten how finely sculpted her features were, the elegant cheekbones, the full mouth. In spite of his own foul smell, the flowery scent of her perfume surrounded him, reminded him yet again just how female Juliette Blanchard was.

  “Tru. Please. I’m convinced we can reach a compromise,” she said.

  He pulled from her grasp. “I’m not.”

  He turned, resumed his trek toward the pump, heard the rustle of her skirts as she followed him again.

  “But you don’t understand,” she said.

  “I understand plenty.”

  “My hotel would be perfect here.”

  “My cattle already are.”

  “But they don’t care where they live!”

  He gripped the pump handle to keep from throttling her. “I care.”

  Her bosom heaved, and Tru could almost taste the panic coursing through her. He swore under his breath, worked the handle with fierce motions and thrust his arms under the gushing water. He scrubbed himself clean, then because Juliette fired up his blood, he bent down and pushed his head into the stream. Icy cold water poured over his scalp and the back of his neck.

  He felt better for it. He straightened, shoved the pump handle down with one hand, raked his fingers through his hair with the other.

  He glared at her. Dared her to continue arguing with him.

  But she seemed distracted with the water spilling over his shoulders and disappearing into the hair on his chest. He suspected she wasn’t used to seeing a man naked from the waist up.

  Tru thought her cheeks looked pinker than normal, but he couldn’t be sure. She angled her face away, and her throat moved in a hard swallow.

  “You’re being infuriatingly stubborn, aren’t you?” she said, her voice hardly more than a whisper.

  “That’s what the McCords have always done, isn’t it, Juliette?” he taunted. “Infuriated the Blanchards?”

  Her mouth tightened, and she swung back to face him. “Is that your final answer, then? You refuse to sell to me?”

  “Yes.”

  “No matter what price I offer you?”

  He made no response. He didn’t need to.

  Her breath quickened, as if his silence terrified her. “I’ll do anything, Tru. I swear it.”

  His brow arched. His mind entertained a variety of ways she could entice him to sell, none of them very honorable. Did she intend to prostitute herself for her precious hotel?

  “Anything?” he murmured.

  He knew it cost her plenty to lower herself to him like this. It amused him, a Blanchard falling to the level of a McCord.

  “Anything,” she said.

  An idea bloomed in his brain, one so far-fetched she would never in their combined lifetimes agree. But she’d tossed down the glove and was waiting to see if he accepted the challenge.

  “Come to think of it, there is one thing you could do,” he said.

  Hope sprang into the deep violet-blue of her eyes. “Name it.”

  “If you want my land, you’ll have to marry me for it.”

  Chapter Three

  The shock of his words left Juliette speechless.

  Marry him?

  Tru’s mouth quirked, as if he took pleasure in seeing her stunned reaction. But as the absurdity of what he’d suggested sank in, it was all Juliette could do to cling to her composure and keep from banging her fists against his stubborn skull in frustration.

  “Is that your idea of a joke, Tru?” she demanded hoarsely. “Because if it is, it’s most inappropriate!”

  “I’ve never been more serious.”

  “I’m trying to conduct a business deal with you, not an offer of marriage!”

  “In this instance, they’re one and the same.”

  She gaped at him. “They’re not!”

  “You know the terms, Juliette. Take ’em or leave ’em.”

  He had the audacity to walk away from her then. Just left her standing there, staring after him, without another word to say.

  Because he’d said it all.

  Of course she wouldn’t marry him. He knew she wouldn’t. Marry him for his land? What kind of ridiculous proposition was that?

  She’d done everything but fall at his feet and beg. If she thought it’d do any good, she’d beg the whole day long. But Tru wasn’t going to budge, no matter what she said or did, with one ridiculous exception.

  Marriage.

  Damn him.

  She watched him stroll toward the cabin. He carelessly slung his shirt over his shoulder, as if he knew the power he held over her—and it suit
ed him. His broad back, tanned a deep golden-brown, rippled with muscle. Even his buttocks were tight beneath the denim of his Levi’s. He walked with the lithe, unhurried gait of a man who was in control.

  Which, of course, he was.

  She swallowed down the stir of sexual heat that slid through her blood, and pulled her stare away. It rankled that he could affect her so when he didn’t care one whit about her resort or the potential of its success, not only to her career and her pathetic financial situation, but to the eastern part of the state of Nebraska.

  She rubbed her forehead. What would Father do in a situation like this one?

  She had to get away from Tru and think. Go back to her room at the hotel and replan her strategy. Find Tru’s weak spot. Something, anything, she could use to convince him to sell.

  He disappeared through the cabin’s back door. She’d clearly been dismissed from the conversation, and with a resolute squaring of her shoulders, she headed back to the rig.

  Tru McCord hadn’t seen the last of her, she vowed. Not by a long shot.

  In the front yard, Juliette discovered the interior of the carriage was empty. Exasperated, she scanned the premises, even the road leading back to Omaha. Camille was supposed to be waiting for her. Where had she gone?

  “Over there,” the rig’s driver said in a loud whisper and, grinning, he pointed toward the barn.

  Juliette frowned. She couldn’t see her sister there or anywhere else in the vicinity, but she strode closer to have a better look. Her trek took her past the front of the cabin, around the corner and down the side. By the time she reached the back, the stock pen loomed just ahead. Her puzzlement increased tenfold.

  She’d come full circle, and Camille was nowhere to be found. Juliette set her hands on her hips and endured the first bite of worry.

  It wasn’t like her sister to wander off, and where would she go, anyway? Juliette scrutinized the area around the barn. The cottonwood and elm trees that grew thick beyond it. If the carriage driver saw her heading this way, then she must be here somewhere.

  Determined to find her, Juliette stepped away from the cabin to investigate the perimeter of the barn, but movement in the trees stopped her. She spotted Camille among the shadows, with Ryan McCord, and they were—

  Juliette’s eyes widened. She emitted a shocked squeak and leaped backward, pressing herself against the rough-hewn side of the cabin, hiding from their detection. Surely she’d been mistaken. What she saw wasn’t what she thought she saw. Camille and Ryan weren’t…oh, God.

  She drew in a long breath and ventured another cautious peek, but the second look confirmed the first. Her eyes squeezed shut, and she flattened herself against the cabin again, her chest heaving.

  In her obsession to talk to Tru, she’d forgotten all about Ryan. But there he was, holding her sister in his arms and engaging her in the most passionate of kisses, as if he was positively starved for the taste of her.

  This couldn’t be happening. Ryan…and Camille?

  Oh, God.

  “They’re entitled to a little privacy, don’t you think?”

  Tru’s voice cut through her dismay, and her eyes flew open. He stood directly in front of her, dressed in a fresh shirt that he’d only had time to button part way. The breadth of his shoulders blocked her view, as if he was protecting them from her discovery.

  Or maybe he was protecting her.

  She strained to peer around him, driven by some crazy need to see Camille locked in Ryan’s embrace once again. “You know about this?”

  He gripped her elbow, pulled her away from the cabin. “Have for a while now.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Wasn’t my place.”

  “Not your place?” Juliette sputtered, her steps quickening to keep up with his as he herded her toward the front yard and the waiting carriage. “Just how long did the three of you intend to keep this…this relationship from me?”

  “Reckon that’s something you’ll have to take up with your sister.”

  They reached the rig, and Juliette spun toward him. “It’s not like Camille to do this. We’re very close. She must have been coerced somehow.”

  Tru’s eye narrowed. “What are you saying, Juliette? That it was Ryan’s fault Camille deceived you?”

  Her mouth opened to blurt that it was typical of a McCord to be unscrupulous when it suited him, that a McCord would resort to less than honorable measures to get what he wanted.

  But Ryan wasn’t acting alone in that kiss. Camille was an active and willing participant.

  Juliette’s mouth closed again. “No, I’m not saying that.”

  Tru unlatched the carriage door. “Then it’s best to be open-minded about this. Camille’s old enough to make her own decisions.”

  “She’s young, Tru.” Troubled, Juliette peered up at him. She saw no condemnation or worry in his features. How could he be so calm? “They both are.”

  “She’s the same age you were before things fell apart between us. We’d shared plenty of kisses by then. Neither of us were thinking of age when the passion was running hot, were we?”

  His low-voiced challenge sent the past crashing in on her, vivid memories she still refused to think about. She’d reconciled herself to the fact that getting involved with Tru had been a big mistake, one she intended Camille would never make with Ryan.

  It would hurt too much.

  “They’ve never even courted, Tru. They hardly know each other. Besides, New York is our home. We’ll be returning there as soon as plans for my hotel are finalized. Camille has no room for Ryan in her life.”

  Tru caught Juliette by the waist to lift her into the carriage. Startled, she grasped his biceps, and the bulge of hard muscle warmed her palms. He settled her in the seat, then released her, but the strong, capable feel of his hands against her lingered through the fabric of her dress.

  “You can’t keep doing her thinking for her,” he said.

  “Camille already knows my thinking.”

  “Going to have to cut the apron strings with her. Hard as it is to accept that, it’s for your own good. And hers.”

  Juliette chafed at his persistence. “Perhaps Ryan is ignorant of the implications of what he’s doing. I would appreciate it if you would speak to him of my disapproval. As I intend to do with Camille.”

  “The hell I will,” Tru growled.

  She arched a haughty brow. “Then I’ll speak to him myself. This affair must stop immediately.”

  He stepped closer, and barely suppressed anger emanated from him. “You’re on McCord land, Juliette. There’ll be no confrontation from a Blanchard here. Ryan is free to make his own decisions about the woman he wants in his life. Damned if you’ll tell him otherwise.”

  Though it rankled, Juliette knew to hold her tongue. Tru’s wrath was a formidable thing. She’d do well not to anger him further, not when she needed his land so desperately.

  She swung her head, letting her defiance show, but not acting on it. Ryan and Camille were approaching from the barn, a respectable distance between them, as if they were out for a leisurely stroll.

  As if their kisses had never happened.

  But they had, and Juliette intended to give Camille a good piece of her mind as soon as they returned to Omaha.

  Camille’s happy chattering on the way back to the hotel wilted Juliette’s resolve.

  She pondered the glow in her sister’s cheeks. The sparkle in her eyes. The way her voice sang with gaiety with every word she spoke.

  Ryan McCord had done that to her.

  Juliette couldn’t recall seeing Camille this exuberant, not in a very long time, anyway, and certainly not since they’d moved East. Her sister had been slow to recover from the scarlet fever, and reluctant to enter New York society. If not for her studies to occupy her time and mind, Camille would’ve become a recluse, Juliette was sure, and she had worried about her constantly.

  How Ryan entered her sister’s life, she had no idea. Camille
had a great deal of explaining to do, but Juliette was oddly reluctant to demand it of her just yet.

  Clearly, she was in love with the young man. Juliette’s surreptitious gaze lingered on the rosy fullness of her sister’s lips. Ryan had kissed her most thoroughly, she mused, and an unexpected jolt of hot memories rushed through her.

  Tru had kissed her the same way. Fierce, possessive kisses that always left her on fire and hungry for more. An addiction that begged for quelling.

  A need.

  Sharp dismay coursed through her, and she yanked herself back to reality. She had to stop remembering. Her plans for herself and Camille were spiraling out of control, and if she wasn’t very careful, she’d lose everything she’d worked three long years for.

  Camille couldn’t continue her relationship with Ryan. Absolutely not. She had to overcome the power he held over her. She didn’t yet know Juliette had seen them in the shadows beyond the barn. Tru had acted as if nothing unusual had happened, and Juliette followed his lead in not saying anything.

  But by the time they reached the privacy of their hotel room, she could wait no longer.

  Humming softly, Camille sat at the vanity and began removing the pins from her hair.

  “What’s this?” Juliette asked, forcing a teasing lilt into her voice. “Getting ready for bed already? It’s barely noon.”

  Beaming, Camille met her gaze in the mirror. “Ryan has asked me to dinner tonight. I’m going to spend the afternoon getting ready.”

  “Oh?” She managed to act nonchalant. “We agreed you’d call on Sarah today. So the two of you could go shopping.”

  Camille shook her head slowly. “No, Juliette. You said I was going shopping with Sarah today. I never agreed to the outing.”

  Had that been the way the conversation went? Juliette blew out a breath. “I don’t think dinner with Ryan is a good idea.”

  Camille whirled toward her. “Because he’s a McCord.”

  Juliette hesitated. “Among other things.”