An Arranged Marriage

by Susan Fox

  “I can’t possibly marry you.”

  The hard gaze Blue Sumner leveled on her made her uneasy. “Not good enough, huh?”

  It took Allison a moment to register the flash of emotion behind his words. “Good enough has nothing to do with my refusal, Mr. Sumner. We don’t know each other. I can’t marry a man I’m not in love with. And I don’t think you’d be happy marrying a woman you aren’t in love with, either.”

  “Love…” The cynical gleam in his gaze chided her.

  Allison was taken aback. “You don’t believe in love?”

  “Love’s right up there with Santa and the Easter Bunny, Ms. Lancaster. But I’m steady, reliable and hardworking. I’ll be a sober husband, a loving father to my kids and a good provider to a faithful wife.”

  What kind of man makes the perfect husband?

  A man with a big heart and strong arms—someone tough but tender, powerful yet passionate….

  And where can such a man be found?

  In our brand-new miniseries:

  Marriages made on the ranch…

  An Arranged Marriage

  Susan Fox

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  BLUE SUMNER rarely had anything given to him. The death of his mother when he was four years old had cut him off from the simple, exquisitely tender kind of giving that comes from the gentle heart and hands of a good mother. He’d learned quick not to expect anything to magically come his way, not love and certainly not anything more than what it took to keep body and soul together. As the son of a cowboy drifter who had spent more time drunk and out of work than sober and employed, Blue had grown up at the mercy of strangers who either pitied or scorned him.

  The drive to amount to something, to work himself to death if need be so he could make a good life and have a home, had got hold of him before he was out of grade school. By the time he’d turned fourteen, he’d been so obsessed to make something of himself that he’d quit school, lied about his age and gone to work full-time on the biggest ranch in the county. Later, he studied for his GED in his spare time, then passed the test for his high school diploma about the time his old classmates were halfway through their freshman year of college.

  As a boy who had faced daily ridicule for the poor quality of his clothes and his social ignorance, the loss of high school had been insignificant. His childhood had already been lost, crushed out by the hardscrabble life of a drunk’s son. He’d had to find success at something else, anything that would elevate his bad feelings about himself and give him a reason to leave liquor alone and stay on the right side of the law.

  From the time he’d got his first job on that big ranch, he’d worked twelve-hour days, seven days a week. Days off were rare, vacations unheard of, but he’d persisted, saving every dollar he could get his hands on, until he’d at last put together enough money to take out a loan on a place of his own.

  Eight years ago, he’d become the proud mortgage holder of a modest ranch. He’d sweated and bled over that piece of ground, living in the small run-down house that still had a room with a dirt floor, while he caught work for wages on some of the larger outfits.

  The land itself had been rugged enough to nearly kill him. He’d raised animals that were dangerous on their good days, delivered their offspring, doctored their ailments, treated them like prize pups—and sold them for every nickel he could get. He’d lived lonely and hard, doing without a lot of things others took for granted, chasing the mirage of home and respectability…

  Until the day he discovered that every inch of the dirt he’d slaved over just happened to be sitting on top of the richest new oil strike in a four-county area.

  It was amazing what a sudden eight-figure net worth did for a man. Amazing and enlightening. Things he could only wish for in the past could now be his in the time it took to toss down a piece of plastic or write out a check. From the moment the news of his good luck had circulated, he’d been accorded a deference that had taken him aback the first few times.

  He got invited to all kinds of high-toned get-togethers, about a million salesmen left messages on his new answering machine and every mother with an unmarried daughter made sure he’d been introduced and asked to supper. People who’d always kept a wary distance from him now went out of their way to speak to him or do business with him.

  And though he could now buy anything he wanted and could do whatever he pleased, it shocked him a little to suddenly discover that the things he wanted most—a home, a family and respectability—had more to do with the quality of the woman he chose to marry than the sweat, blood and sacrifice that had brought him this far.

  Because Blue Sumner had rarely had anything given to him, he knew right off that the kind of woman he was looking for could only be his for a price. A quality woman wouldn’t willingly marry a man who’d come from what he’d come from; she’d never be interested in a man who’d grown up rough-mannered and hard. And because she wouldn’t, Blue didn’t intend to give her a choice.

  Allison Lancaster drove her car to the mansion on the Sumner ranch, but stopped a distance down the driveway. Several vans and trucks, which she assumed belonged to various building contractors and their workers, took up much of the driveway space nearest the house. Leery of blocking the driveway, she angled her car to the side of the gravel and switched off the engine. She reached to the seat beside her for her handbag, then paused to stare at the huge house.

  She’d heard Blue Sumner was building one of the finest homes around, and though it was still weeks from completion, she could see that it was just as impressive as the gossips had said.

  The huge two-and-a-half story house was built in a Victorian style with a deep, roof-shaded veranda around the entire main floor. The house fairly shouted wealth and good taste, but Allison couldn’t reconcile the sight of the house with her image of the rugged, elemental man who’d ordered it built.

  For what had to be the hundredth time that morning, she mentally reviewed the handful of times her path had crossed Blue Sumner’s. She’d never been able to quite forget the tall, hard-looking man who nodded respectfully to her each time they met on the street. She’d never understood the reason for the wild flutter in her middle the time his fiery blue eyes had blazed down at her from beneath his hat brim as he’d handed her a donation for a school fund-raiser.

  And the time she’d been stranded on a country road by a flat tire. Why she could still remember the smell of sweat and leather and hot gravel, and could still recall the odd little sensations she’d felt as she’d watched him change the tire, defied explanation. But something about the way the ruggedly handsome rancher’s big, work-callused hands had handled the task had riveted her.

  Allison was suddenly aware that she was trembling. The shocking message her uncle Charles had given her that morning had upset her. And since the message had been from Blue Sumner, this foolish review of disturbing memories didn’t help.

  She tightened her grip on her handbag and opened the door to get out of the car. The sounds of hammers and electric hand tools filled the country air. The newly built ranch buildings and corrals she could see a distance away seemed just as active, with horses, cattle and ranch hands scattered around. At least she wouldn’t be alone with the man.

  She tried to settle her nerves as she walked with determined poise toward the huge front doors of the mansion, then groaned with frustration when she rea
lized that a fine sheen of perspiration had broken out across her pale brow. As she walked, she took out a tissue and discreetly blotted her face, appalled that her hands were shaking by the time she slipped the tissue back into the handbag.

  Remembering what Blue looked like, recalling her feminine reaction to his macho intensity had undermined her somehow. And now that she was on the verge of speaking to him face-to-face, the memory of his outrageous message struck fear in her heart. Surely he hadn’t been serious.

  Blue watched Allison’s arrival from one of the unfinished guest rooms on the second floor of his new house. The woman was the very soul of femininity. From the shiny crown of her shoulder-length blond hair to the toes of her high heels, Allison Lancaster was petite, refined and as elegant as royalty.

  The white linen dress she was wearing with the matching handbag and shoes probably cost more than the profit he’d made in any year of his life prior to striking oil. He couldn’t imagine what her gold earrings, necklace or watch cost. All he knew was that now he could buy her hundreds of necklaces and watches and matching outfits, and never feel the slightest loss.

  The prideful thought sent a breath of unease through him. Allison Lancaster was quality. She was used to the best. He could buy her the best—hell, he could snap his fingers and lay anything she wanted at her feet.

  Anything except a gentleman husband.

  The reminder chafed his pride and dimmed some of the pleasure he felt at the sight of her. But he’d learned that a man didn’t have to be a gentleman to get what he wanted in this life. Not if he had money. And not if he was ruthless.

  Blue turned away from the window and stalked from the room.

  Allison hesitated just outside the open double doors at the front of the huge house, loathe to walk into the place unannounced. Though her uncle had told her that Blue had invited her to meet him there, good manners and caution prevented her from behaving with too much familiarity.

  A short, wiry man appeared in the doorway. “You must be Miz Lancaster,” he declared, then motioned her toward the door. “Mr. Sumner’s waitin’ for you inside.”

  Allison managed a stiff smile and started forward, her nerves jumping with tension and suspense. Once inside the huge entry hall, the man shouted a loud, “Noon break, boys, let’s clear out,” that startled her.

  In a surprisingly brief time, workers came from every direction and swiftly exited the house. “Mr. Sumner’ll be along directly, miss,” the man told her before he, too, ducked out the front door.

  Allison looked toward the windows and saw that the workers were all moving in the direction of the ranch buildings she’d seen earlier. The idea that they might be going all the way to the new cookhouse for lunch increased her nervousness. Suddenly the big house seemed quite isolated from the rest of the ranch headquarters. Uneasy with the notion of being alone with Blue, Allison glanced nervously toward the open doors.

  The deep, rough drawl that echoed in the large, empty rooms gave her no time to make a graceful exit.

  “I’m obliged to you for comin’ out.”

  Allison jumped at the sound of the man’s voice and couldn’t help that she whirled to face him.

  Blue Sumner’s hard gaze seemed to swallow her whole as he came toward her. She suddenly had the impression that he saw everything about her, including the light shiver that raised tiny goose bumps on her arms.

  At well over six foot, Blue was a big man—lean, powerfully built, with overlong black hair that dragged on his collar and a harsh, weather-tanned face that proclaimed him a man equal to the elements. The deep blue of his eyes beneath his hat brim met hers with blunt force, the hard sparkle in their depths no-nonsense and faintly dangerous. With his black Stetson, chambray shirt, worn Levi’s and boots, all it would take was a six-gun strapped to his lean hips to make him look like an old-time gunslinger/outlaw.

  Another shiver, this one deep down, sent a virtual earthquake of awareness through her as he came to a halt less than an arm’s length away. Blue Sumner was more blatantly male than any man she’d ever come in contact with, and suddenly everything female in her reacted with a shocking mixture of attraction and feminine fear.

  She was still staring, a bit dazed, when one corner of his hard mouth turned up in a curve that was un-amused. Just that quickly, she realized how rudely she was behaving and forced a faint smile while she made an effort to recover.

  “I was…surprised at the invitation to meet you here, Mr. Sumner,” she began with painful formality.

  He stared at her with a piercing, see-it-all intensity that made her want to squirm. “The invitation surprised you,” he stated, his voice low and a bit rough. “What about the marriage proposal?”

  “The proposal…troubled me,” she admitted unsteadily. “I thought we might clear things up if I came out to have a word with you.”

  She really did mean to go about this as kindly as possible. Uncle Charles believed that having Blue Sumner’s money in his bank was crucial to the bank’s survival, so she didn’t dare offend the man. And, no matter how tough and hard and macho he seemed, she had no wish to insult his pride or hurt his feelings. She could not, however, marry a stranger or a man she didn’t love, no matter how rich he was.

  When Blue continued to stare at her, his gaze moving over her face as if he were examining her every feature in minute detail, Allison felt her breath go thin. But when that gaze lowered to make a leisurely chin to toe tour that lingered almost indecently on every curve, her heart nearly stopped.

  In the next second, hot color flooded her face. That was the same second Blue’s assessing gaze lifted to meet hers.

  “Then you don’t want to marry me.” The statement was delivered in a surprisingly quiet voice. A quiet voice quite at odds with the tension she sensed about him suddenly.

  Instinct warned her to be careful. She didn’t know the man and didn’t know anyone who did. Blue Sumner had not only never been a part of her aunt and uncle’s social circle, but he didn’t seem to have socialized with anyone in town. She’d heard gossip about him, his newfound wealth and what he was doing with his money, but she knew nothing personal about the man, aside from the fact that he was now the most sought-after bachelor in the area.

  Allison made herself give a faint smile. “I don’t know you, Mr. Sumner.”

  The tension in him seemed to ease at her soft reply. His gravelly, “There’s a remedy for that,” and his step toward her made her stiffen, though she managed to stand her ground.

  Blue’s eyes narrowed fractionally on her face as if he’d sensed how close she was to bolting. He reached for her bent elbow so smoothly and suddenly that she didn’t have time to evade his touch.

  The feel of his callus-rough fingers closing so firmly on her arm sent a shower of wild tingles over her skin. Reflexively Allison pulled back, but Blue’s gentle grip kept her close. The smallest tug brought her that next step nearer, and Allison couldn’t help that her free hand came up and landed on his shirtfront.

  The blue cotton was hot to the touch, heated by the warm flesh of the man who wore it. Beneath her fingers, Blue’s heart thudded at a steady pace while hers raced out of control. And now that she was staring up into his rugged, handsome face, she felt her knees weaken and begin to tremble.

  Blue didn’t miss a flicker of Allison’s changeable facial expressions. Surprise, wariness, attraction, fear—not exactly the acceptance and desire he wanted to see when she looked at him. But that little hand pressed against his chest directly over his heart felt like the business end of a branding iron. Though she didn’t mean it at all, somehow she was setting a mark on him.

  “I’d like to show you the house,” he said gruffly, easing back so her hand would fall away. He didn’t release his gentle hold on her elbow, however, until they started out of the entry hall to begin their tour.

  Allison was relieved when Blue’s firm grip went slack and she was able to casually move her arm away. Normally, courtesy would have made her submit to this
tour of his home. But courtesy had nothing to do with giving herself this time to recover her wits.

  She could still feel the warm imprint of his fingers on her skin, was still trembling with the excitement his touch had set off. Finding her hand pressed to his chest—a gesture that seemed quite intimate—had shaken her. Even the occasional meeting of their gazes as they walked through the huge home sent little bolts of sexual awareness through her.

  Desperate to distract herself, Allison looked around, making herself focus on each room and ask appropriate questions. She didn’t have to force herself to admire the big house. The main floor boasted the large entry hall with an open staircase to the second floor, a living room, dining room, den, small parlor, family room, a vast kitchen and a double suite of rooms for a live-in cook and housekeeper.

  The second floor featured a master suite with an old-fashioned nursery connected and a walk-in closet easily half as large as the master bedroom. There were six other bedrooms and another small suite of rooms near the back stairs for a butler.

  Allison couldn’t help her curiosity. “A butler?”

  Blue’s gaze met hers, then ricocheted away. “Was invited to a house party in Dallas where they had a butler. I admired the order of the house he kept.”

  They ended in the spacious kitchen downstairs. “The decorator’s planned out for curt—er, window treatments and carpets,” Blue told her as he leaned back against a counter, his arms crossed over his chest, “but you can meet with her tomorrow to see if you approve.”

  He ignored her startled look and went on. “You can pick the furniture, just so our bed or anything I have to use isn’t fussy or womanish. Or white, since I’m still a rancher and always will be.”

  Allison stared in mild shock as he casually laid out his plan for her to meet with his decorator and furnish his home. She’d been hoping that sometime during the tour he’d come to his senses and realize what folly it was for either of them to take his marriage proposal seriously.