Mail-order bridegroom

by Day Leclaire

  He stepped back. 'Take off the dress. I don't want to rip it/

  Fumbling awkwardly with the belt links, she unfastened the chain at her waist and placed it among the flowers on the walnut bureau. She slipped off her heels, wondering why removing her shoes always made her feel small and vulnerable. Finally she gathered the hem of her gown and slowly lifted it to her waist.

  The next instant she felt Hunter's hands beside her own, easing the dress over her head. He laid it across a chair and turned back to her. She stood in the center of the room, horribly self-conscious in the sheer wisps of silk and lace that were her only covering.

  'Hunter,' she whispered. 'I don't think I'm ready for this.'

  'Relax,' he murmured. 'There's no rush. We have all the time in the world.' He approached, wrapping her in his embrace. 'Remember how good it was between us?'

  She clung to his jacket lapel. 'But we're not the same people any more. Our.. .our feelings have changed.'

  'Some things never change. And this is one of them.' His eyes were so black, full of heat and hunger, his face, tight and drawn, reflecting his desire. He lifted her against him, tracing the length of her jaw with the edge of his thumb.

  She shuddered beneath the delicate caress. He'd always been incredibly tender with her, a lover who combined a sensitive awareness of a woman's needs with a forceful passion that had made loving him an experience she'd never forgotten. It would be so easy to succumb, to be

  swept into believing he loved her still—-a fantasy she found all too appealing.

  'I can make it so good for you,' he said, his mouth drifting from her earlobe to the tiny pulse throbbing in her neck. 'Let me show you.' He found the clasp of her bra and unhooked it, sliding the silk from her body.

  She closed her eyes, her breathing shallow and rapid. He didn't lie. She knew from experience that making love to him would be wonderful. It was the morning after that concerned her, when she'd have to face the knowledge that he'd come one step closer to achieving his goal—of winning both the ranch and her. 'His hand closed over her breast and her heart pounded beneath the warmth of his palm. For an endless instant she hung in the balance between conceding defeat and allowing her emotions free rein, or fighting for what mattered most. Because if she couldn't protect herself from his determined assault, how could she ever expect to protect the ranch and all those who depended on her?

  She shifted within his grasp. 'It's too soon,' she protested in a low voice.

  'We'll take it slow.' He traced her curves with a cal-lused hand, scalding her with his touch. 'We can always stop.' But we won't want to. The words lay unvoiced between them, his thoughts as clear to her as if he'd spoken them aloud, and she shuddered.

  Stepping back, he stripped off his jacket and tie. Ripping open the buttons of his shirt, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the petal-adorned bed. Once there he lowered her to the soft mattress and followed her down.

  His fingers sank into her hair, filling his hands with long silvery curls. 'I've wanted to do this ever since I saw that picture of you,' he muttered.

  She stirred uneasily. 'What picture?'

  He tensed, and for a long moment neither of them moved. Her question had caught him unawares and she struggled to focus on it, to figure out why he'd reacted so strongly. He'd seen a recent picture of her. The knowledge was inescapable and she withdrew slightly, confused, questions hammering at her brain. Where and when had he seen the photo... in the study, perhaps? If so, why the strange reaction?

  The picture on your father's desk,' he explained quietly. 'It shows you with long hair.'

  'It was shorter when you worked here.'

  'Yeah, well. I like it long.'

  But the mood had been broken and she rolled away from him, drawing her knees up against her chest. There was more to his idle comment than she had the strength or energy to analyze. 'Hunter,' she said in a low tone. 'I can't.'

  'It's only natural to feel nervous,' he said in a cool voice, making no attempt to touch her.

  'It's not just nerves.' She swept up the sheet, wrapping herself in its concealing folds. Shoving her hair back over her shoulders, she met his watchful gaze. 'You've gotten your way, Hunter. We're married and there's no going back. You said yourself that we have all the time in the world. Why rush this part of it and risk damaging our relationship?'

  A muscle leapt in his jaw. 'You think making love will damage our relationship?'

  She caught her lower lip between her lip and nodded. 'It will if we're not both ready for this. And, in all honesty, I'm not ready.'

  'When will you be?' he asked bluntly.

  She shrugged uneasily. 'I couldn't say.'

  'Give it your best guess. I don't have an infinite amount of patience.'

  'That's not what you told me five minutes ago,' she flashed back.

  He clasped her shoulders, hauling her close. 'Five minutes ago you were as anxious as I to consummate this marriage. You want me every bit as much as I want you. I know it and you know it.'

  'That's lust, not love. And lust isn't enough for me.' Aware of how much she'd inadvertently revealed, she fought free of his hold and scrambled off the bed. 'I... I just need a little bit of time, that's all. Can't you understand? Am I asking so much?'

  He laughed harshly, running a hand through his hair. 'What will happen between us is inevitable. Tonight, tomorrow or the next night... What's the difference?'

  She peeked at him through long lashes. 'Forty-eight hours,' she said with a hesitant smile. For a minute she didn't think he'd respond. Then he relaxed, his tension dissipating, and he nodded, though she sensed a strong undercurrent of anger just beneath his surface calm.

  'Okay, Leah. I'll wait.' His gaze held a warning. 'Just don't push it. My tolerance has limits.'

  'I'm well aware of that.' She backed toward the door. 'I'd like to change.'

  'Don't be long.'

  Striving for as much dignity as possible, considering that she kept tripping over the sheet, she left Hunter and hurried to her own room. There she stripped off her few remaining clothes. Pawing through her dresser drawers, she pulled out the most modest nightgown she possessed and tugged it on.

  Covered from head to toe in yards and yards of baby-fine linen, she sat on the edge of the bed and nibbled on her fingertip. Had she made her situation better or worse? she wondered. She wasn't quite sure. Perhaps it would have been wiser to make love with him and be

  done with it, regardless of his motivations for marrying her. Only, in her heart of hearts, she knew it wouldn't truly be lovemaking, at least not on his part. It would be sex, pure and not so simple. Or, worse ... it would be revenge.

  She curled up on the bed, hugging a pillow to her chest. If only he cared. If only he loved her. Her hand closed around his wedding-gift, the talisman he'd so unexpectedly given her. His love would make all the difference in the world. But he no longer felt that way about her. And the sooner she accepted that, the better off she'd be.

  But telling herself that didn't prevent a wistful tear from sliding down her cheek.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Leah stirred just as dawn broke the horizon. Confused by the unexpected weight pinning her legs to the mattress, she turned her head and found herself face to face with Hunter—a sleeping Hunter. It brought her fully awake. She risked a quick glance around, confirming her suspicions. So she hadn't dreamed it. She was back in the master bedroom.

  Vaguely she remembered Hunter coming to her old room where she'd drifted off on top of the bed, a pillow clutched to her breast. He'd gently pried it free, and at her drowsy protest rasped, 'We sleep together, wife.' With that, he'd lifted her into his arms and carried her from the room. She hadn't fought. Instead, she'd wound her arms around his neck and snuggled against his chest as though she belonged, as though she never wanted to let

  go.

  When he'd put her into his bed she'd been greeted by the sweet aroma of crushed flowers, followed by a stronger, muskier scent as Hunter had joi
ned her on the mattress. All she recalled after that was a delicious warmth and peace invading her, body and soul, as he'd enclosed her in his embrace, wrapping her in a protective cocoon of strong arms and taut, muscular legs.

  She glanced at him again, studying his imposing features with an acute curiosity. Even sleep couldn't blunt his tough, masculine edge, a night's growth of beard only serving to intensify the aura of danger and male aggression that clung to him like a second skin. The sheet skimmed his waist, baring his broad chest to her view,

  and she drank in the clean, powerful lines, wondered if he slept nude. Somehow she suspected that he did, though she didn't have the nerve to peek.

  In all their times together, never had they been able to spend a night in each other's arms. Their joining had been passionate and earth-shattering and the most wondrous experience of her life. But it had also consisted of brief, stolen moments away from the suspicious eyes of her father and grandmother and the other ranch employees.

  The irony of their current situation didn't escape her. Years ago she'd have given anything to spend a single night with him. To know, just once, the rapture of greeting the dawn safe and secure within his sheltering hold. Finally given her dearest wish, all she felt was apprehension and dismay—-and an overwhelming desire to escape before he awoke.

  Cautiously she slipped from his loose grasp and eased off the bed. Only then did she realize that some time during the early morning hours her nightgown had become trapped beneath him, and that he'd entwined her hair in his fingers as though, even in his sleep, he couldn't bear to let her go. Precious moments flew by as she untangled her hair and freed her gown. Gathering up the voluminous skirt, she tiptoed from the room.

  A quick stop in the kitchen to grab an apple and a handful of sugar cubes, and she was outside and free. She raced across the dew-laden grass to the south pasture fence, the wind catching her hair and sweeping it into the air behind her like long, silver streamers. Whistling for Dreamseeker, she wondered if she'd ever tame such a wild and willful beast.

  He came to her then, bursting across the pasture, a streak of jet against a cornflower-blue sky. Forming a deep pocket for the apple and sugar with the excess ma-

  terial of her nightgown, she awkwardly climbed the fence and sat on the top rail, the thin cotton affording little protection from the splintered wood beneath.

  Dreamseeker joined her, snatching greedily at the apple she offered. Not satisfied, he butted her shoulder until she relented and gave him the sugar as well. He waited, muscles quivering, head cocked at an arrogant angle, allowing her to scratch and caress his gleaming coat. She crooned in delight, rubbing his withers, thrilled by his show of trust.

  'What the hell are you doing?'

  Leah didn't know who was more startled, she or Dreamseeker. Springing from her grasp, the horse shot away from the fence, leaving her teetering on the rail. With a cry of alarm, she tumbled to the ground at Hunter's feet, the hem of her gown snagging on a protruding nail. She tugged impatiently at it, the sound of ripping cloth making her wince.

  She glared up at him, placing the blame where it belonged—square on his broad shoulders. 'Dammit, Hunter! This is all your fault. What do you mean, sneaking around like that?'

  He folded his arms across his chest and lifted an eyebrow. 'Sneaking?'

  'Yes, sneaking. You scared Dreamseeker and you scared me.' She shook out her nightgown, lifting the dew-soaked hem clear of the grass. Peering over her shoulder, she searched for the source of the ripping sound. Finding it, she muttered in disgust, 'Just look at the size of that hole.'

  'I'm looking.'

  The hint of amusement in his voice brought her head around with a jerk. His eyes weren't on the tear but on her. Realization came swiftly. With the sun at her back, the thin cotton she wore might as well have been trans-

  parent. And Hunter, his thumbs once again thrust in his belt-loops, was enjoying every minute of the show.

  'There are times, Hunter Pryde, when I think I hate you,' she declared vehemently. With that, she grabbed a fistful of skirt, lifted her nightgown to her knees and lit off across the pastureland. She didn't get far.

  In two swift strides he overtook her, and swept her clean off her feet. 'Hate me all you want, wife. It won't change a damned thing. The sooner you realize that, the better off you'll be.'

  She shrieked in fury, lashing out at him, hampered by yards of damp cotton. Her hair, seeming to have acquired a life of its own, further hindered her efforts, wrapping around her arms and torso in a tangle of unruly silver curls. She stopped struggling, battering him with words instead. 'You don't fool me. You may have married me because it was the only way to get your hands on the ranch, but that doesn't mean you've won. I'll never give in.'

  'Won't you?' A hint of sardonic amusement touched his aquiline features. 'We'll see.'

  She had to convince him. She had to convince herself. 'You won't win, Hunter. I won't let you!'

  'So much passion. So much energy,' he murmured, his arms tightening around her. 'And all of it wasted out here. Why don't we take it inside where we can put it to good use?'

  She stiffened, quick to catch his meaning, quicker still to voice her objections. 'You promised. You promised to wait until I was ready. And I'm not ready.'

  'No?' His mouth twisted, and a cynical gleam sparked in his jet-black eyes. 'Listen up, wife. It wouldn't take much for me to break that promise. And when I do, count on it, you won't complain for long.'

  Without another word he carried her inside. In the front hallway he dumped her on to her feet, forcing her to cling to him while she regained her balance. His biceps were like rock beneath her hands, the breadth of his chest and shoulders an impenetrable wall between her and escape.

  'Hunter, let me go/ she whispered, the words an aching plea. She didn't dare look him in the eye, didn't dare see the passion that she knew marked his strong, determined features. If she did, she'd never make it up those steps alone.

  'Not a chance.' Then he further destroyed her equilibrium with a single hard, fiery kiss. At last he released her, and she stared at him with wide, anguished eyes. She didn't want him touching her, kissing her, forcing her back to life. She didn't want to feel, to experience anew the pain loving him would bring.

  But she suspected that he didn't care what she wanted, or how much he hurt her. He had his own agenda. And she was low on his list of priorities—a minor detail he'd address when he found it convenient.

  He snagged the bodice of her nightgown with his finger and tugged her close. 'I warned you last night. I won't wait forever. I catch you running around like this ever again and I won't be responsible for my actions. You hear me?'

  She wrenched the gown from his grasp, but all she got for her trouble was a ripped shoulder seam. She gritted her teeth. 'Don't worry,' she muttered, clutching the drooping neckline with one hand and lifting the trailing hem with the other. 'I'm throwing this one out as soon as I get upstairs.'

  His mouth curved at the corners, and he plucked a crushed flower petal from her tangled hair. 'Feel free to trash any others while you're at it. They won't be of

  much use to you... not for long.' Before she could give vent to her outrage, he instructed, 'Hurry up and get dressed. I'm going to inspect the ranch this morning. I leave in five minutes—with you... or without you.'

  Leah didn't lose any time changing. Throwing on jeans and a T-shirt, she stuffed her feet into boots. Securing her hair into one long braid, she grabbed a hat from her bedpost and raced downstairs. At some point she'd have to move her things into the bedroom she now shared with Hunter. But there would be plenty of opportunity for that. Weeks. Months. She bit down on her lip. Years.

  She found Hunter in the barn, saddling the horses. He passed her a paper sack. 'Here. Thought you might be hungry.'

  'Thanks. I am.' Peeking inside, she found a half-dozen of Inez's cinnamon and apple muffins. T don't suppose you thought to bring coffee.'

  'Thermos is in my saddlebag. Help
yourself.' He tightened the cinch on his buckskin and glanced at her. 'I moved that Appaloosa mare with the pulled tendon to another stall. There's a leak at that end of the barn. Looks like we'll need a new roof.'

  She bit into a muffin. 'I'll have Patrick and a couple of the men patch it,' she said, taking a quick gulp of coffee.

  'No.' He yanked the brim of his hat lower on his forehead. 'I said the barn needs a new roof.'

  She sighed, capping the Thermos and shoving it and the sack of muffins back into his saddlebag. 'This is one of those marital tests, isn't it?'

  'Come again?'

  'You know. A test. You say we need a new roof. I say no we don't. You say, I'm the boss and we're getting a new roof. And I say, but we can't afford a roof. And

  you say, well, we're getting one anyway, even if we have to eat dirt for the next month to pay for it. And if I say anything further you start reminding me that before we married I promised this and I agreed to that, and that you're the boss and what you say goes. Does that about sum up what's happening here?'

  He nodded, amusement lightening his expression. 'That about sums it up. Glad to see you catch on so fast.' He tossed her a bright yellow slicker. 'Here. Take this. Forecast calls for rain.'

  'Hunter, we really can't afford a new roof.' She rolled the slicker and tied it to the back of her saddle. 'If we could, I'd have stuck one on last spring, or the spring before that, or even the spring before that.'

  'We're getting a new roof.' He mounted. 'Though if it eases your mind any you won't have to eat dirt for the next month to pay for it.'

  After a momentary hesitation she followed suit and climbed into the saddle. 'I won't?'

  'Nope. Just for the next week.' He clicked his tongue, urging his horse into an easy trot.

  They spent the morning investigating the eastern portion of the Hampton spread and Leah began to see the ranch through Hunter's eyes. And what she saw didn't please her. Signs of neglect were everywhere. Fence-lines sagged. Line-shacks had fallen into disrepair. A few of the cattle showed evidence of screw-worm and the majority of the calves they came across hadn't been branded or vaccinated.