Mail-order bridegroom

by Day Leclaire

  Leah looked up at Hunter in confusion. 'They know you?' she murmured.

  'We're acquainted.'

  'You didn't tell me.'

  'It wasn't important.' His dark, unfathomable gaze captured hers. 'Do you have something to say to these people?'

  She nodded. 'Yes.'

  'Then get to it.'

  She felt like a pawn in a game without rules. She glanced at Hunter, sudden doubts assailing her, acutely aware that she'd missed a vital piece of information, a clue that would help explain the mysterious undercurrents shifting through the room. She also suspected that what had to be said already had been, though in a language she couldn't hope to decipher. What she chose to contribute would be considered, at best, an empty gesture. Still, she wouldn't have this opportunity ever again. She wanted to say something they'd remember.. . do something they'd remember. She wanted them to know that Leah Hampton Pryde had been here and made a statement.

  Taking a deep breath, she stepped to the table and held out the envelope. 'This arrived the other day.'

  'Yes, our offer,' Peterson said with an impatient edge. 'Don't tell me you plan to accept?' He glanced at Hunter. 'It would certainly save much of this board's time and energy if you would.'

  'Not only do I not accept, I don't want to hear from you ever again. You people have harassed me for the last time. I'm not the vulnerable woman struggling on my own any more.' She spared Hunter a quick, searching look. At his brief nod, she added, 'I have help now. We won't allow Bull Jones to foul our wells or stampede our herd. We won't be intimidated by you any longer.'

  'Yes, yes,' Buddy Peterson interrupted, 'you've made your point.'

  'Not yet, I haven't.'

  She reached into her suit jacket pocket and pulled out the lighter she'd taken from the glove compartment. With a flick of her thumb she spun the wheel, and a small flame leapt to life. Stepping closer, she held the flame beneath the corner of the envelope and waited until it caught fire. Then she tossed the burning packet into the center of the glass table. Flames and smoke billowed. Frantic executives scrambled from their seats, shouting and cursing.

  Beside her, Hunter sighed. 'You really shouldn't have done that.'

  She lifted her chin. 'Yes, I should have. Now I've made my point.'

  'That... and more.'

  'Good. Are you ready to leave?'

  To her bewilderment, he shot a chary glance at the ceiling, pulled his hat lower over his brow and raised the collar of his shirt. 'In a minute. Go to the car. I'll be right behind.'

  The instant the door closed behind her an alarm bell began to scream and the overhead sprinklers burst to

  life. In a mad dash the executives scurried from the room, like rats deserting a sinking ship.

  'Get these sprinklers turned off!' Buddy Peterson bellowed. He continued to sit at the table, his arms folded across his chest, ignoring the drenching spray. 'That was damned clever, Hunter,' he called above the screeching siren.

  'She does have a certain... flair, doesn't she?' Hunter said, impervious to the water funneling in a small waterfall from his hat brim.

  Peterson stood and approached. 'That's not what I meant, and you know it. How long are you going to keep her in the dark—not tell her who you really are?'

  'As long as it takes.'

  'You're playing a dangerous game. You could lose everything,' Peterson advised.

  'I don't lose.' Hunter's voice dropped, a hard, threats ening note coloring his words. 'Fair warning. One leak from anyone at this table and you'll all suffer the consequences. I'll be in touch soon.' He didn't wait for a response. Turning, he left.

  'I still don't understand how you got so wet.'

  'I told you. A freak shower.'

  'Where? There isn't a cloud in the sky.' Sarcasm crept into her voice. 'Or perhaps it rained somewhere between the executive floor and the garage.'

  He released a soft laugh. 'Something like that.'

  She gave up. Hunter could be incredibly close-mouthed when he chose. If he'd decided that he wouldn't tell her, then he wouldn't. It was that simple. 'What did you say to the board after I left?'

  He swung into another parking garage, this one beneath a brand-new, high-rise apartment complex. 'Not much. They didn't hang around for long.'

  'Hunter!' she exclaimed in exasperation. 'Why won't you give me a straight answer? What did you say? How do you know them? For that matter, how did you know your way around their building? And why all the secrecy?'

  He pulled into a wide parking space with H. Pryde stenciled on to the wall above it. Switching off the engine, he rested his arms on the steering-wheel and turned and looked at her. 'I know the Lyon board through work, which is also how I knew my way around their complex. I told Peterson that I'd be in touch soon. And I'm not being in the least secretive—just selective in what I tell you.'

  'Why?'

  'Because Lyon is my problem now, and I'll handle it.'

  She could accept that. Having to deal all these years with the constant stream of difficulties on the ranch, it was a welcome change to have a second set of shoulders to help carry the burden. 'Why did you tell Buddy Peterson you'd be in touch?'

  'To make certain he doesn't bother you again.'

  'And he'll agree to that?' she asked in amazement.

  'I won't give him any choice.' He opened his door. 'Coming?'

  After unloading their overnight bags, Hunter led the way to the bank of elevators. Once there, he keyed the security lock for the penthouse and Leah stiffened. 'The penthouse?'

  He paused before answering, and for some reason his momentary hesitation made her think of his advice about addressing the board members of Lyon Enterprises. 'Think before you speak,' he'd told her. 'Don't answer any question you don't want to.' Perhaps that advice didn't apply solely to board members. Perhaps it applied to recalcitrant wives as well.

  'They paid me well in my previous job,' he finally said.

  'I guess so. I'm surprised you left/ The car glided rapidly upward and she peeked at him from beneath her lashes. 'But that's right... You said you'd still do occasional jobs for them if they called. Troubleshooting, isn't that your speciality?'

  'Yes.'

  'What did you say the name of the company was?'

  'I didn't.' He leaned back against the wall and folded his arms across his chest. 'Why all the questions, Leah?'

  'You can't expect me not to have questions.' Her grip on her purse tightened. 'I'm... surprised.'

  'Because I'm not the dirt-poor ranch-hand I once was?'

  She shot him a sharp look. 'We've been over this before. That's not the problem and you know it. You ask me to trust you. To trust you blindly. But you tell me nothing about yourself, which means you don't trust me. 1

  'Point taken,' he conceded.

  The doors slid silently apart, opening on to a huge entrance hall. Swallowing nervously, she stepped out of the car. 'Good heavens, Hunter, look at this place!'

  'I've seen it before, remember?' he said gently. 'Make yourself at home.'

  Her heels clicked on the oak parquet flooring as she crossed to the sunken living-room. 'Why didn't you tell me?' she asked quietly. 'Why the games?'

  His hat sailed past her, skimming the coffee-table and landing dead-center in the middle of the chaise longue. 'All right. I admit I may have omitted a detail or two about my life these past eight years.'

  'A detail or two?' she questioned with irony.

  'Or three. What difference does it make? I have money. And I have an apartment in Houston. So what?'

  'It's a penthouse apartment,' she was quick to remind him.

  He shrugged irritably. Tine. It's a penthouse apartment. It doesn't change a damned thing. We're still married. I still work the ranch. And you're still my wife.'

  'Ami?'

  He thrust a hand through his hair. 'What the hell is that supposed to mean?'

  'Why did you marry me, Hunter?'

  'You know why.'

  She nodded. 'For the ra
nch. Perhaps also for a bit of revenge. But what I don't understand is... why? Why would you care about such a small concern when you have all this?' He didn't respond, and she realized that she could stand there until doomsday and he wouldn't answer her questions. She picked up her overnight bag. 'I'd like to freshen up. Where do I go?'

  'Down the hallway. Third door on the right.'

  She didn't look back. Walking away, she fought an unease—an unease she couldn't express and chose not to analyze fully. The door he'd indicated was to the master bedroom. She closed herself in the adjoining bathroom and stripped off her clothes, indulging in a quick, refreshing shower. Slipping on a bathrobe, she returned to the bedroom.

  She stood beside the bed for several minutes before giving into temptation. Climbing on top of the down coverlet, she curled up in the center and shut her eyes. A short catnap would do her a world of good. But, despite the best of intentions, her thoughts kept returning to Hunter and their conversation.

  The situation between them grew more and more confusing with each passing day. Standing in the middle of the penthouse living-room, seeing the visual proof of the wealth and power she'd long suspected, had forced

  her to face facts. Hunter Pryde had returned to the ranch for a reason ... a reason he'd chosen not to share with her.

  And no matter how hard she tried to fight it, the same question drummed incessantly in the back of her mind. Having so much, what in heaven's name did he want with her and Hampton Homestead ... if not revenge?

  CHAPTER NINE

  'Leah? Wake up, sweetheart.'

  She stirred, pulled from the most delicious dream of laughter and peace roses and babies with ebony hair and eyes. She looked up to find Hunter sitting beside her on the bed. He must have showered recently; his hair was damp and slicked back from his brow, drawing attention to his angled bone-structure. He'd also discarded his shirt and wore faded jeans that rode low on his hips and emphasized his lean, muscular build. He bent closer, smoothing her hair from her eyes, and his amulet caught the light, glowing a rich blue against his deeply bronzed chest.

  'What time is it?' she murmured, stretching.

  'Time for dinner. You've been sleeping for two hours.'

  'That long?' She sat up, adjusting the gaping robe. 'I should get dressed.'

  'Don't bother on my account,' he said with a slow grin. 'I thought we'd go casual tonight.'

  She wrinkled her nose. 'I suspect this might be considered a little too casual.'

  'Only one person will see.' He held out his hand. 'Let me show you.'

  Curious, she slipped her fingers into his and clambered off the bed. He returned to the living-room and gestured toward a spiral staircase she'd failed to notice earlier. 'Follow me.' At the top he blocked her path. 'Close your eyes and hold on,' he instructed.

  'Why?'

  'You'll see.'

  4 Okay. Don't let me fall/

  Before she knew what he intended, he scooped her up into his arms. 'Trust, remember?' he murmured against her ear. A few minutes later he set her on her feet. 'You can look now.'

  She opened her eyes and gasped in disbelief. They stood on the roof of the apartment building, but it was unlike any rooftop she'd ever seen. If she hadn't known better, she'd have sworn they stood in the middle of a park. Grass grew beneath her feet and everywhere she glanced were flowers—barrels of petunias, pansies and impatiens. Even irises and tulips bloomed in profusion.

  'I thought you said you weren't a gardener,' she accused.

  'I lied,' he said with a careless shrug. He indicated a greenhouse occupying one end of the roof. 'Some of the more delicate flowers are grown there. But I've had an outside concern take over since I moved to the ranch. They prepared everything for our visit.'

  'It's... it's incredible.'

  'Hungry?'

  Suddenly she realized that she was. 'Starving,' she admitted.

  'I thought we'd eat here. You can change if you want, but it isn't necessary.'

  She caught the underlying message. She could dine in nothing but a robe, just as he dined in nothing but jeans, or she could dress and use her clothes as a shield, a subtle way of distancing herself.

  'This is fine,' she said casually. 'Satisfy my curiosity, though. What sort of meal goes with scruffiness and bare feet?'

  'A picnic, of course.'

  He pointed to a secluded corner where a blanket had already been spread on the grass. All around the shel-

  tered nook were pots and pots of azaleas, heavy with blossoms in every conceivable shade. A bucket anchored one corner of the blanket, the top of a champagne bottle thrusting out of the ice. Next to the champagne she saw a huge wicker basket covered with a red-checked square of linen.

  She chuckled at the cliche. Tried chicken?' she guessed.

  'Coleslaw and potato salad,' he confirmed.

  'Fast food?'

  He looked insulted. 'Catered.' Crossing to their picnic spot, he knelt beside the basket and unloaded the goodies on to china.

  'You're kidding,' she said in disbelief, joining him on the blanket. 'China? For a picnic?'

  He gave her a bland smile. 'Isn't that what you use?'

  'Not likely.' She examined the champagne. Terrier Jouet flower bottle? Lalique flutes? Hunter, I'm almost afraid to touch anything.' She stared at him helplessly. 'Why are you doing this?'

  'It seemed ... appropriate.'

  She bowed her head, her emotions threatening to shatter her self-control. 'Thank you,' she whispered. 'It's beautiful.'

  'You're hungry,' he said, and she wondered if she just imagined the tenderness in his voice. 'Try this.'

  He held out a succulent sliver of chicken that he'd stripped from the bone. She took it from him and almost groaned aloud. He was right. This didn't come close to fast food. She'd never tasted chicken with such a light, delicate flavor. Drawing her knees up against her chest, she tucked into the next piece he offered.

  'Don't you trust me with the china?' she teased.

  He extended a forkful of potato salad. 'Not when I'm seducing you.'

  4 With potatoes and fried chicken?' She nibbled the potato salad and this time did groan aloud. * Ignore that question. This is delicious.'

  'Want more?' At her eager nod, he patted the spot next to him. 'Then come closer.'

  With a laugh she scrambled across the blanket to his side, and before long they shared a plate between them, exchanging finger food and dispensing with silverware whenever possible. Finally replete, she didn't resist when he drew her down so her head rested in his lap.

  'Look at the sunset,' she said, gesturing at the vivid colors streaking across the sky above them.

  'That's one of the reasons we're eating out here.' He filled a flute with champagne. Impaling a strawberry on the rim, he handed it to her. 'There's dessert.'

  'No, thanks.' She sipped the champagne. 'This is all I need.' His fingers slipped into her hair and she closed her eyes beneath the delicate stroke of his hand, his abdomen warm against her cheek.

  'Leah, watch,' he murmured.

  She glanced up at the sky. As the last touch of purple faded into black, tiny pinpricks of light flickered to life around the rooftop. It was as though the stars had fallen from the heavens and been scattered like glittering dew-drops among the flowers. She raised a trembling hand to her mouth.

  'Hunter, why?' She couldn't phrase the question any clearer, but he seemed to understand what she asked.

  'I wanted tonight to be perfect.'

  She released a shaky laugh. 'You succeeded.'

  'Good. Because I'm going to make love to you and I want it to be special. Very special.' He made no move to carry out his promise. Instead he sat motionless, apparently enjoying the serenity of the evening. 'Eight years

  ago you told your grandmother about our meeting at the line-shack, didn't you?' he asked unexpectedly.

  It was the last question she had ever envisioned him broaching. She didn't even consider lying to protect Rose. 'Yes:

&nbs
p; 'You came to the line-shack and waited for me/

  'Yes,' she admitted again.

  'When did you find out I'd been arrested?'

  'When you told me.'

  'I was afraid of that/ He released a long sigh. 'I owe you an apology, Leah. I didn't believe you. I thought you were lying about what happened back then/

  'Did Grandmother Rose tell you the truth?'

  'Yes. She told me.'

  'I'm glad/ Leah hesitated, then said, 'There's also an explanation for why I wouldn't leave with you—if you're willing to listen/

  The muscles in his jaw tightened, but he nodded. 'I'm listening/

  'I told my grandmother about our meeting because I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to her. That was when I learned about Dad. He was dying of cancer, Hunter. I had to stay and help take care of him. That's why I wouldn't have gone with you. But I would have asked you to come back... afterward/ She stared at him with nervous dread. 'I hope you believe me, because it's the truth.'

  For a long time he remained silent. Then he spoke in a low, rough voice, the words sounding as though they were torn from him. 'Growing up in an orphanage, honesty came in short supply. So did trust. No one cared much about the truth, just about finding a culprit.'

  'And were you usually the culprit?' she asked compassionately.

  'Not always. But often enough.'

  'Didn't you try and explain?'

  'Why?' he asked simply. 'No one would have believed me. I was a mongrel. Not that I was innocent, you understand. I provoked my share of trouble.'

  She could believe he had, though she suspected that the trouble he'd provoked had never been undeserved. 'And then one day...' she prompted.

  'How did you know there was a "one day"?'

  She shrugged. 'It makes sense.' She felt his laugh rumble beneath her ear.

  'You're right. Okay. One day—on my fifteenth birthday, as a matter of fact—they accused me of doing something I didn't. It was the last time that happened.'

  'What did they accuse you of?'