Mail-order bridegroom

by Day Leclaire

  He tucked her ad back into his shirt pocket and cupped her elbow. 'Inside, Leah. We have a lot to discuss.'

  'No!' she protested, yanking free of his grasp. 'I have nothing to discuss with you.'

  He bent down, picked up her rifle and emptied the chamber of shells. He stared first at the slugs in his hand, then at her. 'I suggest you reconsider,' he told her.

  It took every ounce of self-possession not to apologize for shooting at him. She faced him, hands planted on her hips. 'You're not wanted here.' She gestured toward the rifle, adding drily, 'You should have taken the hint.'

  'Last chance, Leah. You don't want to fight me on this.'

  The words were arctic-cold, the threat inexorable. He gazed down at her, and the expression in his eyes almost stopped her breath. Why did he look at her like that—

  as though all the sins in the world could be laid at her doorstep and he'd come to exact retribution? She'd done nothing to hirn, except love him. And he'd repaid that love with desertion. His fierce gaze continued to hold her, and with a sudden, gut-wrenching certainty she realized that somehow she'd wronged him and he'd come to even the score. She fought a mind-numbing panic. If she succumbed to panic she didn't stand a chance against him.

  Instinct urged her to throw him off her property and be done with it. But she didn't have that luxury. Knowing him, he wouldn't go until he'd had his say. Instead, she'd handle this in a calm, intelligent manner. She'd hear him out—not that she had much choice in the matter. Then she'd throw him off her property.

  'Leah,' Hunter prompted in a surprisingly gentle voice.

  She didn't allow his mildness to mislead her. The softer he spoke, the more dangerous he became. Right now, he was deadly serious. 'All right, Hunter.' She forced out the words. 'We'll play it your way...for the time being.'

  He rattled the rifle-slugs fisted in his hand, the sound more sinister than any made by a diamond-back snake. Settling his hat more firmly on his head, he snagged her elbow, his grip firm and purposeful. 'Let's go.'

  She didn't flinch. Instead, she allowed herself to be drawn into the house. Peeking up at his rigid features, she released a silent sigh. With no rescue in sight, it looked as if she'd fight this battle alone. And she could, too.

  So long as he didn't touch her again.

  Once inside the study, Hunter closed the door and crossed to the far wall, where the family photos hung. He paused, assessing them, one in particular seeming to

  capture his attention. It had been taken around the time he'd known her; she'd been just eighteen.

  In the picture she sat on a fence-rail, faded jeans clinging to her coltish legs, a sleeveless checked shirt revealing slim, sun-browned arms. She stared off into the distance, a half-smile curving her mouth, her gaze unfocused as though her thoughts were far, far away. Just as the picture had been snapped she'd raised a hand to her cheek, brushing a stray curl from her face.

  'I expected your hair to have darkened.' He glanced from the photo to Leah. 'It hasn't. It's still almost silver. As I recall, it used to flow through my fingers like silk. I wonder if it still would.'

  'Stop it, Hunter,' she ordered tightly.

  He glanced back at the photo. 'It doesn't do you justice, you know.'

  'What, the picture?' She shrugged uneasily. 'If you say so. I think it looks just like I used to.'

  'Not quite.' His mouth curled to one side. 'It doesn't show the passion... nor the ruthlessness. Even at that age you had a surplus of both.' He turned to study her. 'Do you still?'

  Her mouth tightened. 'I've changed a lot since then. You figure out how.'

  Turning away, she took a stance behind the huge oak desk, hoping it would put her in a stronger, more authoritative position. She hoped in vain. Hunter removed his hat, dropped it in the middle of the desk and edged his hip on to the corner nearest her.

  'You knew the ad in the paper was mine, didn't you?' she began, determined to get their confrontation over as quickly as possible. 'How?'

  'The nickname you used. Miss Bluebonnet.'

  She nodded in acknowledgement. 'Dad used to call me that because of my eyes.' Then, with a sigh, she asked,

  'Why are you really here, Hunter? Because I don't believe for one minute that it's in response to that ad.'

  'You know why I'm here,' he said.

  'I can guess.' Pierced by eyes that were panther-black and jungle-watchful, she'd never felt so intimidated in her life. And it took every ounce of resolve not to let it show.

  Hunter Pryde had changed, attained a sophistication she'd never have believed possible. Eight years ago he'd been in his mid-twenties and wild, both in appearance and in attitude. In those days his black hair had brushed his shoulders, held back by a leather thong, his eyes reflecting a savage determination to succeed in a world just as determined to see him fail. But what had attracted her most had been his face—the high, sculpted cheekbones, the hawk-like nose, and the tough, bronzed features that reflected an unmistakable strength and vitality.

  His long-limbed arms and legs, his broad chest and lean, sinewy build spoke of a mix of conquistadors and native American Indian, of a proud and noble heritage. When he'd taken her into his arms she'd sensed that no one else would ever make her come alive the way she did with him, that she'd never love anyone quite as much.

  And she'd been right.

  'You've come to see the Hamptons broken, is that it?' Leah asked with a directness she knew he'd appreciate.

  A cynical smile touched his mouth. 'Swayed, never broken. Wasn't that your father's motto? No. I've come to discover why, if things are so bad, you haven't sold out. Are you really so destitute that you need to resort to this?' Removing the ad once more from his shirt pocket, he balled it in his fist and flicked the crumpled newspaper toward the trash can. It arched over the rim and hit the bottom with a faint metallic thud.

  He couldn't have made his disapproval any clearer. She found it mortifying that he, of all people, had happened across that ad. But she wasn't a shy, easily coerced teenager any more. And she wouldn't be bullied. Not by anyone. Certainly not by Hunter.

  'This isn't any of your business,' she informed him. 'I don't owe you a thing, least of all an explanation for my actions.'

  'I'm making it my business,' he corrected in a hard, resolute voice. 'And, one way or another, I will have an explanation.'

  She struggled to curb her anger. It wasn't easy. He had an uncanny knack for driving her into an uncontrollable fury. 'Are you really interested,' she snapped, 'or have you come to gloat?'

  He folded his arms across his chest. 'I wouldn't be here if I wasn't interested.'

  'Fine.' She'd try taking him at his word and see where it led. Though she suspected she wouldn't like it when they got there. 'I didn't have any choice but to place that ad.'

  He dismissed her excuse with a contemptuous gesture. 'Don't give me that. We always have choices. You just have a knack for picking the wrong ones.'

  'You may not agree with my decisions, but that doesn't make them wrong,' she retorted, stung. 'The last few years haven't been easy. Dad.. .Dad died a year after you left.' Hunter's leaving at a time she needed him most still hurt, even after all these years. Until he'd ridden up today, she hadn't realized how much of that pain lingered.

  'Yes, I know.'

  She flinched. 'You knew?' Knew and never bothered to return? Never bothered to see how she was, see if she

  required any help or support? She straightened her shoulders. No, not support. She'd support herself. And her grandmother. And the ranch. And all those she'd gathered beneath her wing. No matter what it cost.

  'I read his obit in the papers/ He leaned closer, and she caught her breath, drawing in the rich, spicy scent of his aftershave. 'I understand the ranch has gone downhill ever since. You may be just as ruthless and single-minded as your old man, but you're sure as hell not the rancher he was/

  She jerked as though slapped, and for a moment the defiant, protective mask she'd kept rigidly in place
slipped, leaving her vulnerable and exposed. How could she ever have been seduced by this man? Even at eighteen she should have had the sense to see the cold, heartless soul that ruled his keen intellect, no matter how attractive the outer packing.

  'I won't defend myself to you. Why should I? Nor will I be judged by your yardstick,' she insisted fiercely. 'So spit out what you came to say and get the hell off my land/

  She saw the familiar spark of anger flicker to life in his eyes and wondered if she'd pushed him too far. Not that she cared. With her back against the wall, both literally and figuratively, she'd fight free any way she could and damn the consequences.

  With an abrupt sweep of his arm he snagged her waist, and forced her between his legs. 'Don't you know why I'm here?' He cupped her shoulders to curb her instinctive opposition, rough amusement edging his words.

  As much as she wanted to tell him to go to hell, she knew he wouldn't release her until she'd answered. Glaring at him, she said, 'You came in response to the ad/

  'More than that, Leah. Much, much more,' he corrected, a bitter smile twisting his mouth. *I came for the ranch.' His eyes grew black and pitiless, searing her with a burning determination. 'And... I came for you.'

  CHAPTER TWO

  Shock held Leah immobile for a split-second. Recovering swiftly, she lifted her chin. 'That's a real shame, Hunter,' she retorted, continuing to fight his hold. 'Because you aren't getting either one.' His grip tightened. 'We'll see.' She stopped struggling. Resistance was fruitless. Instead, she used the only other weapon she possessed. Words. 'Did you really believe that after all these years you could just come strolling back up my drive? Your arrogance is incredible. After what you did to me, I wouldn't give you so much as the time of day!' 'A little melodramatic, don't you think?' Fury ripped through her and she gave in to it, needing the satisfaction losing her temper would provide. 'Melodramatic? Not by a long shot. You stole my innocence, you bastard. And you did it solely to get your hands on this ranch.' Bitterness spilled over, pouring out after years of suppression. Her pain, her agony, stripped of any protective cover, lay bare for him to see. 'I was eighteen and crazy in love. And you used me. You used meV 'The hell I did. I just took what you offered.' His cruelty cut her to the quick and it required all her willpower not to hit him. But she remembered his lightning-fast speed of old. Her blow would never land and his retaliation would be swift and unpleasant. She looked him straight in the eye. 'You can't get out of your responsibilities that easily. You took exactly what you wanted, no matter who suffered in the process.'

  His mouth settled into a grim line. 'You never knew what I wanted. You still don't.'

  'Oh, no?' Did he really consider her so blind, so ignorant of man's baser motivations? Perhaps eight years ago she'd been guilty of such an oversight, but no longer. He'd cured her of that. 'It's the same then as now. You want my land. Well, get in line.'

  'There is no line,' he bit out. 'Nor will there be. You'd better face that fact right here and now.'

  He tugged her closer, as though to obstruct any chance of flight. Slowly, relentlessly, he gathered her in, trapping her in a grasp as binding and inescapable as a mist-net around a struggling sparrow. She pressed her hands against his chest, striving to keep some small distance between them. But instead she found that touching him only resurrected long-forgotten emotions, reminding her of all that had gone before. Tears threatened, but she ruthlessly forced them back. Tears wouldn't accomplish a thing. Not with this man.

  'Why are you doing this?' she asked. 'Why now, after all this time?'

  'Because it will give me what I want most.'

  She laughed quietly, the sound one of pain and disillusionment rather than amusement. 'When you said that eight years ago, I foolishly thought you meant me. But now I realize you meant the ranch.'

  His expression closed over. 'Did I?'

  'Yes! Is that why you bedded me? Because it would give you your dream? It didn't work out that way, did it?'

  'Bedded you? A rather quaint description for what we did together. Something a bit more elemental and a lot cruder would be closer to the truth. And, as I recall, we never did get around to using a bed.'

  She refused to feel shame for an act that had been the most beautiful experience of her life. 'No, we didn't. Because you left before we ever had the chance. Of course, you didn't hit the road until Dad threatened to disinherit me. He offered me a choice. You or the ranch.'

  'And we both know which you chose.'

  She caught his shirt in her fists. 'How would you know that?' she demanded passionately, her distress breaking free of her control. 'You didn't stick around long enough to find out. But I can guarantee choosing you was a mistake I've lived to regret. It never occurred to me that, without the ranch, I wasn't much of a bargain.' Her pride had suffered from that knowledge. But her pride had handled the battering. Her heart hadn't been nearly so sturdy. 'So you took what you could and walked.'

  A hard smile tilted his mouth to one side and his hands closed over hers, prying them free of his shirt. 'Let's be accurate. I didn't walk. I was dragged.'

  'Don't give me that. I waited in the line-shack for hours. Does that amuse you?' Her breathing grew shallow and rapid, the dark recollections ones she rarely dredged from her memory. 'The afternoon was sweltering, but I waited inside the cabin for you anyway. I was so afraid one of the wranglers would stop by... that there'd be some unexpected strays to round up or fence to string and he'd decide to spend the night out there and I'd get caught. But I didn't leave. I kept telling myself you'd come. The hours became an eternity, as though the world had moved on and I'd somehow been left behind. Even after the sun set, I found excuse after excuse to explain your absence.'

  'Stop it, Leah.'

  But she couldn't. Once started, the memories continued to unravel, like a wind-up music-box grinding out its song until the music played down. 'It was a full moon

  that night. I sat on the floor and watched as it drifted from window to window, inching a path across the sky.'

  He stared at her, impassive and remote. 'It rained/

  Surfacing from the remembered nightmare, she focused on his face. 'Not until two that morning/ she corrected, her voice dull and lifeless. 'The storm rolled in from the south and blotted out the stars as though an angry hand had wiped them from the sky. The roof leaked like a sieve but, fool that I was, I stayed/ She bowed her head, her emotions nearly spent. 'I stayed and stayed and stayed/

  'Why? Why did you stay?* he asked insistently. 'Look at me, Leah. Look me in the eye and tell me the rest of your lies. Because that's all they are/

  'How could you possibly know what's fact and what's fiction,' she whispered, 'when you weren't there to see?'

  'Tell me!'

  Forced by the relentless command, she lifted her head. He swept a wisp of ash-blonde hair from her face, and though he touched her with a tender hand his expression was anything but.

  'I stayed because I was waiting for you to ride up and take me away like you promised,' she admitted, her voice breaking. 'At daybreak I finally realized you weren't coming. And I vowed that I'd never trust a man again. I'd never give him that sort of power over me or leave myself open and vulnerable to that much misery. So tell me, Hunter. Tell me the truth. What happened? What was so vital that it dragged you away and you couldn't be bothered to come back?'

  'Sheriff Lomax happened.'

  It took a long minute for his words to sink in. 'What do you mean?' she asked, dread balling in her stomach.

  He laughed, the jarring sound slicing across her nerves like a finely honed blade. 'Cut the bull, Leah. All that

  nonsense about waiting for me at the line-shack and sweltering in the heat and watching the moon. It didn't happen. I know it. And you know it. Though I did enjoy the part about the roof leaking. Very pathetic/

  ' What's the sheriff got to do with this?' she demanded, more urgently.

  'I went to the line-shack, as agreed. You weren't there.' He paused significantl
y. The sheriff was. Along with a few of his men.'

  'No. I don't believe you.'

  'It took six of them to pull me out of there. You forgot to mention, in your heartbreaking tale of woe, about the smashed furniture or the broken window. Or the unhinged door. They might have taken me, but I didn't go easy.'

  'I don't know...' She struggled to remember. Had the window and furniture been broken? 'Things were a bit of a mess, but '

  He didn't give her a chance to finish. 'I guess you were so busy staring at the stars you didn't notice.' Catching hold of her long, silver braid, he wound it around his hand, pulling her close. His mouth hovered a hair's-breadth above hers. 'Or maybe you didn't notice because every word you've uttered is a lie. Admit it. You were never at that line-shack.'

  'I was there!'

  'Not a chance. Only two people knew about our meeting. You... and me. I didn't tell a soul. But, since the sheriff came in your place, there's only one explanation. You changed your mind. And, afraid of how I'd react, you spilled your guts to Daddy and begged him to get you out of a sticky situation.'

  'No! It didn't happen that way.'

  'Didn't it? Tell me this. If we had met that afternoon, would you have come away with me? Well...?' He pinned her with a hard, savage gaze. 'Would you?'

  She'd never lied to him in the past and she wouldn't start now. No matter how it might look to him, no matter how he might react, she'd tell him the truth. 'No. I wouldn't have gone with you.'

  For an instant his grip tightened and she waited for him to master his anger, unafraid, knowing with an absolute certainty that he'd never physically harm her. 'I didn't think so,' he said. He released her and stood, and she sensed that he'd set himself apart, distancing himself from her.