Million Dollar Marriage

by Maggie Shayne

  When she went back into the living room, with freshly filled glasses, vowing that she wasn’t going to touch hers, Holden was already adding larger logs to the fire. She paused by the big kerosene lamp on the end table, and bent to blow it out.

  Holden spun around. “What did you do that for?”

  “The fire is plenty of light. Besides, it has to be dark to get the full effect.”

  “I’ve used that line a time or two myself,” he muttered.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  Shrugging, she went forward, set the glasses on the tree slab coffee table, and sank onto the incredibly soft sofa.

  Holden stood between her and the fire for a long moment. “I’m, uh…pretty tired,” he began.

  “Oh, come on, Holden. Sit with me. Tell me some of those family stories about Kingston up there. I’m dying to hear them. And you did say they made perfect fireside tales.”

  “I did say that, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  With a sigh, he came to the sofa and lowered himself onto it. “All right. If a bedtime story is what you want, I’ll play.”

  If he’d play, she thought, she wouldn’t need to ask for a bedtime story. But at least it would keep him here longer at her side. And there might be a chance…

  “My great-grandmother didn’t give birth to Kingston. She found him on the doorstep of her home in Iowa, and even though she and her husband had children of their own, and few resources, they decided to keep him and raise him as one of the family. He had a birthmark on his lower back, a three-pronged crown. So they named him Kingston, called him King for short.”

  She leaned back on the sofa, finding herself interested in the tale, even though she’d only asked to hear it as a ploy to keep him close. “Did they ever find out where he really came from?”

  “No. They never did. I wonder sometimes, though. It’s odd, not knowing.”

  Turning toward him, pulling her legs beneath her, Lucinda studied his face, and Kingston’s. “You…you’re clearly Anglo-Saxon.” Moving her hands, she ran one finger over the bridge of his nose. “You have King’s nose. Strong. And his chin,” she touched it as she spoke. “I’ll bet there’s some Scot in your blood.”

  “You think so?”

  “Mmm. Yes. I do.” Holden closed his hand around hers and moved it gently away from his face. Sighing in defeat, Lucinda settled down beside him, much closer than before. So close, her side was touching his, and though she leaned her head back against the cushion, she could easily tilt it to the side and rest it on his shoulder if she wanted to. He wasn’t moving away from her, and that was encouraging. “Tell me more.”

  “I think you’ve had too much wine,” he said.

  “I don’t remember there being anything in our agreement about not drinking wine.”

  “There wasn’t.”

  “I didn’t think so. Tell me more about your grandfather.”

  He drew a deep breath, sighed. “He worked for a local farmer when he was a young man, fell in love with the man’s daughter. But the old farmer was a bible-thumping sort who didn’t think King was good enough. So the two ran away to St. Louis and got married, never telling him where they’d gone. For a little while they were happy. Had a baby boy named Teddy. He’s one of the many family mysteries. No one knows whatever became of poor Teddy Fortune.”

  “Why not?”

  Holden looked down at her, and he seemed more relaxed now that he was involved with the retelling of the family history. She leaned her head on his shoulder and sighed with satisfaction when his arm came around hers.

  “World War Two happened. It was around forty-two, when King had to go and serve. While he was away, his wife got sick and died. Someone contacted her father, and the old bastard showed up to take Teddy away. That was the last anyone ever heard of him.”

  “But…Teddy would be your uncle. Surely Kingston searched for him when he returned?”

  “It was two years before he could make his way home. His ship went down, he was wounded, spent several days stranded on an island with a comrade. King saved a lot of lives when the ship went down, collected a few medals. But this buddy of his saved his life on that island. In the end, King made it back, and Judd didn’t. But before he died, Judd Hobbs gave King a locket with a lock of golden-blond hair inside, and asked King to make sure he was buried with it.

  “When King got back, his first priority was trying to find his son, Teddy. When every attempt failed, time and time again, he moved on with his life. Decided to pay Hobbs’s widow a visit, out of respect for his fallen comrade. He’d been given a hefty compensation check for his injury…it was his leg, as I recall. So he figured he ought to make sure the widow of the man who saved his life was being taken care of. He also thought he’d give the locket to her, since he had no idea where Hobbs was buried. He thought it would mean something to her to know how much her husband thought of her.”

  “Honorable. Is that how he wound up in Texas?”

  “That’s how he wound up in Texas. Hobbs’s widow was my grandmother, Selena.”

  “Selena,” she repeated. “Mexican?”

  “Half. Granddad found her living on the ranch left to her by her father, running it single-handedly as best she could. So King stayed on to help.”

  “And gave her the locket?”

  “Not exactly. See, when he met Selena, he was pretty surprised to see that she had very dark hair. Nowhere near blond like what was in the locket.”

  Lifting her head and her brows at once, Lucy said, “Uh-oh.”

  “Yeah, uh-oh. Turns out Hobbs only married Selena to get his hands on her ranch. He was actually in love with her sister.”

  “The blonde?”

  “Right. Anyway, Hobbs had a brother still living, Malcolm. And Malcolm had it in his head that he wanted that ranch. Eventually, he tried to murder my grandmother to get it, but King got the best of him, and in the end, he married Selena, and the two of them built the ranch into what it is today.”

  “And had two sons. Your father, Cameron, and your uncle Ryan.”

  “And a daughter, my aunt Miranda.”

  Lucinda frowned, tilting her head to one side, but the room tilted slightly with it. “I’ve never met her, have I?”

  “No. She ran off…I think it was the year Logan was born. I was about five or so. They say she headed for Hollywood, with her heart set on becoming a big star. But she didn’t leave on very good terms with the family, and I don’t think anyone’s heard from her since. Gosh, she was only seventeen when she left. She’d be forty-six now.”

  “You remember her?”

  Holden nodded. “Yeah. I loved her. She was a teenage rebel, outspoken, disagreed with her parents over everything. And gorgeous, too. A real blond bombshell. She always said she’d be as big as Marilyn was someday. But I guess we’d have heard about it if she’d made it.” He sighed. “I wonder what happened to her.”

  “Maybe someday you’ll find out.”

  “I hope so.” He gazed into the fire for a long moment. Lucinda followed that gaze, watched the flames dancing, smelled the resin burning.

  “This is nice,” she said.

  “Yeah, well, it’s getting late.”

  She sighed, but didn’t get up. She only tipped her face up to his, knowing her moment was slipping away, and wondering why she wasn’t as disappointed as she’d expected to be. She’d enjoyed spending this time with him. Just…talking.

  “So, do I know all the family secrets now?”

  “What’re you, kidding? We have volumes.”

  She smiled. “Gives me something to look forward to, then.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Mm-hmm. You tell a hell of a bedtime story, you know.”

  He smiled at her, seeming to get lost in her eyes for a long moment. But then he finally dragged his gaze away and got to his feet. “I’m going to turn in.”

  Lucinda closed her eyes, lowered her head. “Are you…sure you want to?”


  He was quiet for a moment. Then he asked, very softly, “Just what do you mean by that, Lucy?”

  Biting her lip, still not facing him, she forced the words to come. “It’s our wedding night, Holden. And while you gave me your word you’d be faithful, I’ve been thinking that maybe…a year of celibacy is a bit much to ask.”

  His hand came to cup her chin, and he gently tipped her face up so he could search it. She felt heat, embarrassment, fear he’d take her up on her offer, and fear he’d throw it back in her face. “Are you offering, Lucy?”

  She nodded in a quick, jerky motion.

  Holden licked his lips, closed his eyes. She got to her feet, putting her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. And the next thing she knew she was wrapped tight in his arms and he was kissing her hard. She twined her arms around his neck, parted her lips for him, let him in. Even moved her hips, rubbing against him in a way that should let him know she meant what she said.

  Eventually, Holden lifted his mouth from hers. “You taste…like wine,” he whispered. Then, biting his lip, he let go of her so suddenly she fell down onto the sofa. “Damn, Lucy, you’re drunk. You don’t know what the hell you’re doing.”

  “How do you know that?” she asked him. “How do you know I’m not perfectly aware of what I’m doing?”

  “Because if you did, you wouldn’t be doing it.”

  “Don’t be so sure about that, Holden.”

  He spun away, pushing a hand through his hair. “Lucy, listen to me. I don’t want this. I don’t want to risk you starting to feel anything for me. I don’t want you to want me, Lucy.”

  “I do, though. I…always have,” she whispered.

  “Then this was a mistake. Dammit, you can’t let yourself, because I’ll only hurt you in the end.”

  “You already hurt me,” she said as she stood. “I survived it once, I can handle it again. I’m a big girl now. Hell, I was only seventeen then, and I got through it okay.”

  Holden went very still, his back to her. Slowly, he turned, clasping her shoulders, scanning her face and making her shamefully aware of what she’d just revealed to him, and of the hot tears sliding slowly over her cheeks.

  “You don’t want me,” she whispered. “You didn’t want me then, either. It was just the booze, wasn’t it, Holden? It never meant a damn thing to you, did it?”

  His eyes intense, he stared hard into hers. “Lucy, what are you talking about?”

  She drew a breath. “I’m talking about the night you slept with me. The night I had sex for the first time, Holden. I’m talking about you passing out on top of me, and how ashamed I felt…and how hopeful. It didn’t matter to me how wrong it was…it was all okay with me, because I thought it meant something. But it didn’t, did it, Holden?”

  “My God,” he whispered. “Dammit, Lucy, I didn’t—”

  “Oh, yes, you did. And you didn’t even remember it the next day. So the way I see it, Holden, you owe me. And it’s my turn to collect. But all of a sudden, you’ve developed some kind of aversion to casual sex with a woman who means nothing to you. When the hell did that happen, huh? When, I’d like to know?”

  “Lucy, stop. Wait. Lucy…”

  She pressed her hands to her forehead. “God, you were right. I’ve had too much wine.” She turned and walked fast toward the door. “I’m going for a walk.”

  “You’re not going anywhere.” He gripped her arm from behind. “I want to talk about this.”

  “Well, I don’t. I said way too much, Holden. Just let me get the hell out of your sight for a while so I can try to salvage some scrap of my pride here. Please…”

  He held up both hands. Lucy wrenched the door open and stalked outside into the darkness.

  Holden let her go. The night air might do her some good, he supposed. Certainly couldn’t make matters any worse. So he’d just give her some time. Give himself some time.

  My God, what the hell had happened to his simple plan? This was supposed to be a friendly business arrangement. And he already knew where he’d gone wrong. He’d let himself believe in her facade. The mask she’d been wearing—the one that said she had no feelings whatsoever for him. The one that lied. She felt something. Anger, at him for having forgotten that night. Pain at what she perceived as his rejection of her back then.

  He closed his eyes, remembering. He’d seen her the next day. And he’d been with that giggling blonde, whatever the hell her name was. He remembered Lucy’s surprised look and the way she’d averted her eyes, spoken quickly and softly, and hurried away. She must have been expecting… God, she must have been expecting so much.

  Lowering his head, Holden pressed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “Well, you were right, Dad. I turned out just like you. The same kind of selfish, callous son of a gun. Poison to a decent woman.”

  He’d been so determined not to ruin Lucy’s life, not to cause her the kind of pain his father had caused his mother. But it looked as though he’d already done all of that, a long time ago. Took her virginity and then forgot about it.

  And the worst part was, the poor thing thought she still wanted him. Or maybe that was just the wine. Either way, he’d rejected her again tonight, hurt her again tonight. And he hadn’t meant to do that.

  He glanced up toward the door. Okay, she’d been alone long enough. She shouldn’t be wandering around outside in the dark in her condition anyway. He didn’t know what the hell he was going to say when he caught up to her, but he guessed he’d better think of something fast.

  The wind had picked up outside. And it was dark, the sky thick with a blanket of clouds that blotted out the stars, the moon. No light danced on the water tonight. He supposed it was fitting.

  Lucy sat on the dock. He could just make out the shape of her there, on the edge, her feet hanging over, dangling in the water maybe. When he got closer, he saw her socks balled up beside her. Her jeans were rolled up.

  “I didn’t come out here so you’d have to come chasing after me,” she said, not turning around. The wind whispered harder, its breath riffling her hair.

  “I’m sorry, Lucy.” It was the only thing he could think of to say.

  “So am I.”

  “You don’t have anything to be sorry for.” He moved forward, heeled off his shoes, and sat down beside her.

  “Yes, I do. I shouldn’t have lashed out at you like that for something that happened so long ago.” She looked sideways at him, and he thought she’d been crying, but it was hard to be sure in the darkness. “I didn’t plan to ever tell you. But I guess I’ve been holding it in for so long it just…had to come out.”

  “I wish you had told me then.”

  “What good would that have done?”

  Holden shrugged. “Hell, I don’t know.” A deep sigh worked out of him, and he knew what he had to do. “Look, I’ll let you out of our bargain. We don’t have to go on with this—”

  “No.” She said it quickly, her voice louder than before. Then, more softly, “No, Holden. I intend to stick to the deal we made.”

  Slowly he shook his head. “But this isn’t the deal we made. Lucy, I wanted a business arrangement. No emotions involved. This is—this was—a mistake.”

  She looked at him for a long time, though he doubted she could see him very clearly. “What are you so afraid of, Holden? It’s not as if I can force you to start to have feelings for me. No one’s going to make you care.”

  “It’s not me I’m worried about.” He said it too quickly, without thinking first. Saw her flinch. “That didn’t come out right.”

  “No, I think it came out just right. There’s no way in hell you will ever feel a thing for me, so that’s not your concern.”

  “Lucy—”

  “What is, then? Are you afraid I’ll start to care about you? Use some kind of guilt trip to make you stay with me beyond the limits of our agreement?”

  “You wouldn’t do that.”

  “No,” she said softly. “I wouldn’t.”r />
  He swallowed hard, and his throat was bone dry. He felt as if he were walking blind through a minefield. “I just don’t want to end up hurting you, Lucy. That’s all. I’ve watched my mother all my life, loving a man who was incapable of loving her back the way she deserved to be loved. And I made a vow a long time ago that I’d never put any woman through that.”

  She turned her head and stared out at the black water. The wind blew stronger now, and her hair flew around her. “You’re awfully full of yourself, Holden Fortune. Let me just reassure you, I am not in love with you. I am not going to fall in love with you. I’m sorry you got the wrong impression in there, but the only thing I was suggesting was…” She didn’t finish.

  “Sex,” he said. “And you can’t even say it. Because you’re not the kind of woman who would have casual, meaningless sex, Lucy, and we both know it.”

  “You don’t know anything about me at all,” she said. “Yes, I wanted sex. I’m a grown woman, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Nice girls have needs, too, you know. They feel desire. I’m not a porcelain doll, Holden, and I’m not frigid. Just because I’m not one of your bimbos of the month, doesn’t mean I’m not a real woman.”

  “I know that.”

  She nodded, still not looking him in the eye. “I am not willing to go without having sex for a year. And you’re not capable of it. We can engage in extramarital affairs and cause yet another Fortune family scandal…or we can do the sensible thing and sleep together.”

  “That all sounds very clinical and logical to you, I’ll bet,” he said slowly. Inside he was burning. With the desire to take her up on her offer and show her just how explosive it would be between them—and with a newborn fury at her suggestion that she would look elsewhere for sexual satisfaction. “I’ll tell you what, Doc. We are not going to engage in any extramarital affairs. If I can stay faithful, then you can sure as hell do the same. And if it gets to be too frustrating, I suggest a little manual labor.”