by Day Leclaire
“Nice speech,” Judge Graydon approved. “But that doesn’t change the fact that Jake isn’t here and we have conflicting reports regarding his intentions. Wynne, I hate to ask this, but…What exactly did he say to you before he left?”
“Do I have to answer that?” she whispered.
“I’m afraid so, my dear.”
“He said…” She clasped her hands together, searching again for a ring that wasn’t there. Taking a deep breath, she confessed, “He said that he didn’t have any choice. He was going to settle the issue of our marriage once and for all.”
A shocked murmur rippled through the room.
“And that didn’t suggest to you that Jake is planning a divorce?” Judge Graydon questioned gently.
She shook her’head, a stubborn light leaping to her eyes. “I trust Jake. He wouldn’t do that to me. He knows I need a husband if I’m to keep the children.”
A man in the back of the courtroom stood, twisting his Stetson between his hands. “Excuse me, Judge. But if all she needs is a husband, I’ll volunteer. And I wouldn’t marry her and then change my mind after the fact, neither.”
“Kind of you to offer, Wendall,” Graydon began. “But—”
Another man stood. “I wouldn’t object to having a wife like Miz Hondo. If Jake don’t come through, I’m willing to offer for her.”
Three more men stood. The judge ran a hand across his face. “Let me guess. You, too?” he asked. They all nodded. “It would seem you have no shortage of husbands to choose from, Mrs. Hondo.”
“Just not the one I want,” she replied, her voice catching.
Asa Blue rose to his feet. “Jake’s divorcing Wynne and that’s a fact. We all know the man. We all know why he married. And we all know he intended to divorce his missus once he was legally wedded, bedded and courtapproved.”
No one argued with his assessment of the situation.
“So, let’s get to the crux of the matter,” he continued. “Wynne says the children were left to her in her sister’s will. The Marsh lady says that without a husband, a home or a job, the children would be better off with her. Makes sense to me that if we get Wynne what she needs, then there won’t be any more problems.”
Murmurs of agreement echoed around the courtroom.
“Now, here’s what I propose.” Asa ticked off on his fingers. “Belle and I will make sure she has a job. As far as a home is concerned…Either she can live with her new husband or we’ll rent her a place in town. That just leaves gettin’ her a man.” He planted his hands on his hips and scanned the room. “All you who are interested in applying for the position of her husband, stand up so she can pick out the one she likes best.”
“Wait just a damned minute,” Mrs. Marsh snapped, leaping to her feet. “This is insane.”
Judge Graydon cocked an eyebrow. “How so? You’ve listed your complaints and we’re taking care of them for you.”
“There’s one small problem,” Wynne interrupted. “I haven’t agreed.”
“But, honey,” Belle called out. “What Asa’s suggesting is the perfect solution.”
Wynne turned to face her. “Except…Jake and I are still married.”
“For your sake, I’d like to believe that’s true,” Belle replied compassionately. “But you have to be realistic. You know what sort of man Jake is. And you know he only wanted a temporary marriage. Heck, his own words condemn him. As tough as it is, there comes a time when you have to face facts.”
Wynne looked around. Except for Randolph, they all returned her gaze with pitying looks. She bowed her head. “You’re right,” she said softly. “When you weigh all the evidence, I have to admit, there isn’t much room for doubt. Chances are, Jake’s going to divorce me.”
In the back of the courtroom, shadowed in the doorway, stood Jake. He caught the arm of the woman next to him before she could reveal their presence. “Quiet,” he murmured. “Let her finish.”
“But—”
His eyes flashed an unmistakable warning. “For once in your life, shut the hell up.”
He returned his attention to the scene being played out before him and folded his arms across his chest. His wife sat near the front of the silent courtroom, her head still bowed. Wisps of white-blond hair clung to her nape and more than anything he wanted to go to her, slide his hands into those silky curls and kiss her senseless. But he didn’t move. He simply stood and waited, steadfast in his conviction.
After a full minute, Wynne lifted her chin. “It’s obvious to everyone here he’s going to divorce me,” she reiterated, then stated in a firm, carrying voice, “But I still don’t believe it. I think you’re all wrong. I think he loves me. And I know I love him. So until he walks in here and hands me the actual divorce papers, I’ll have to decline your generous offers. But I appreciate your support.”
It was all he needed to hear. Dragging his companion along with him, he strode into the courtroom, never once looking right or left. The entire time he kept his gaze trained on the only person in the world who mattered to him. He stopped in front of her and without a word yanked her from the chair and into his arms. And then he kissed her. He kissed her as if there was no yesterday and no tomorrow, kissed her with all the pent-up passion of a man who’d lived a life of emptiness and despair, kissed her until the darkness of the past few days had been vanquished from her soul.
He felt her hot tears on his cheeks, tasted the sweetness of her love, heard the glorious sound of his name tumbling over and over from her lips to his. “I love you,” he whispered for her ears alone. “And I swear, I’ll never give you cause to doubt me again.”
“Excuse me!” Mrs. Marsh’s jarring voice cut like a knife. “Perhaps we can get back to business?”
Jake turned, planting himself between Wynne and her dragon. “Sure thing. Mind telling me what the hell is going on here?”
“We’re picking out a husband for your wife,” a voice called from the far side of the courtroom.
Jake’s eyes flashed dangerously. “My wife already has a husband, she doesn’t need another.”
“What?” Bright patches of red stained Kitty Marsh’s cheeks. “You said you were getting a divorce! We had an agreement.”
“What agreement is this?” Judge Graydon interrupted.
She blanched, as though aware she’d said far too much. “I…I don’t think that’s relevant,” she stammered.
The judge’s eyes narrowed. “I suspect it’s very relevant. But we’ll get back to that later.” He switched his attention to Jake. “Mind answering a question or two, Hondo?”
Jake lounged against the defendant’s table, his arms folded across his chest. “Ask away,” he said with a shrug.
“We seem to have rumors of a divorce floating around here. I don’t suppose you’d care to give us the straight poop.”
Jake managed to look suitably shocked. “A divorce? You mean, me?” He fixed the Marsh woman with a cold, feral gaze. “Who the hell said I was getting a divorce?”
The judge glanced at Mrs. Marsh, as well, his expression souring. “Rumor had it you were off to Mexico.”
“Actually, it was Nevada.”
“Well, I know for a fact you can’t get a divorce in Nevada, not in just five days. What were you doing there? If you don’t mind my asking, that is.”
“I don’t mind.” He tugged two small, wrapped packages from his pocket. “I was buying my wife a couple of presents.”
Judge Graydon leaned across the bench. “You spent the last five days in Nevada buying your wife a gift?”
Jake shrugged. “Couldn’t get them anywhere else. And they were important gifts.”
Wynne peeked eagerly around his shoulder. “May I open them? Now?”
He smiled indulgently. “Yeah, elf. Go ahead.” He handed her the first—a small, square jeweler’s box.
She ripped off the ribbon and paper and slowly flipped up the red velvet lid. Inside were a pair of wedding bands. Very unique, strangely etched wedding ban
ds. “Oh, Jake,” she whispered.
“Know what they’re made from?”
She nodded, struggling to talk through her tears. “From the tickets to the Cinderella Ball.”
He cupped her cheek, lifting her chin so he could see the expression in her eyes as he said, “You told me your ring couldn’t be replaced because it was part of the ball, part of how we met.”
Understanding dawned. “And so is this.” She touched the larger band, moistening her lips. “There’s two of them.”
“About time I wore one, don’t you think?” He removed the rings and slid the smaller onto her finger. “Don’t go losing it. I had a hell of a time convincing the Montagues to part with even one of their precious tickets.”
Then it was her turn. She took his hand in hers and gently, firmly slid the band onto his finger. “You’re not a temporary husband anymore, are you?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think I ever was. But just in case there are any lingering doubts.” He handed her the second present, a small, flat package.
She opened it, gasping when she saw a familiar, white velvet pouch. Inside were two tickets, the words Anniversary Ball etched in elegant scrollwork on the golden metallic wafers. Tears fell, thick and furious.
Jake straightened and faced the rest of the courtroom, his face settling into savage, uncompromising lines. “Anybody have more questions about the validity of my marriage? If so, they can come up here and discuss them with me close and personal.”
“This doesn’t change anything,” Mrs. Marsh insisted shrilly. “There’s still the question of my nephews’ safety. He’s a dangerous man. Just look at his hand. I don’t even want to think about how he broke it. Probably in a fistfight or something.”
The judge grinned. “How did you break it, Jake?”
“Fishing for Wynne’s wedding ring,” he admitted reluctantly.
“Come again?”
“She’d dropped her ring down the drain and I couldn’t get the pipe off, so…” He shrugged.
“You lost your temper and tried to force the issue.”
“Something like that.” He ran a hand through his hair. “She was crying. I—I couldn’t just stand there and do nothing.”
“Faced with that choice, I suppose a busted hand is understandable. So is a five-day trip to Nevada.” Graydon shook his head. “The things we men do to make our wives happy.”
There were a few sympathetic chuckles from the audience.
“I guess that leaves one final issue,” the judge said, turning a stern eye on Mrs. Marsh.
“Your Honor—” she began.
“My turn.” Judge Graydon cut her off. “Madam, I’d like to offer a few words of advice. You are, of course, welcome to pursue legal action against these people. But I strongly suggest you reconsider. Because I promise, should you take this any further I will make it my personal business to find out about this mysterious agreement Jake referred to. And when I do, I’ll be sure to forward that information to the appropriate parties.” He let that sink in before adding, “Enjoy the rest of your visit to Texas. I trust it will be a brief one.”
The courtroom exploded with applause.
Wynne stared up at her husband, her heart in her eyes. “I love you,” she said. “Thank you.”
“And I must love you something fierce,” he admitted wryly. “Otherwise I wouldn’t have brought her with me.” He jerked his head toward someone standing out of sight.
Wynne turned. “Laura!” she cried, throwing her arms around her best friend. “What are you doing here?”
“Your husband can be very persuasive when he sets his mind to it. And he persuaded me I should give Texas another try.”
People began to drift over to them, offering their congratulations and saying a few kind words in the hope of making amends. But it was to only one man that Jake offered his hand. “Thanks for what you said, cousin. I appreciate it.”
Randolph shrugged awkwardly. “Family should stick together.”
Jake wrapped his arm around his wife and grinned, the last of his demons finally conquered. “I couldn’t agree more. How about you and Evie joining us for Thanksgiving dinner? We have a lot to celebrate.”
EPILOGUE
WYNNE GLANCED at the people gathered for Thanksgiving dinner and smiled mistily. She’d never thought she’d be so fortunate, or have so much to be thankful for. Jake met her gaze across the long expanse of the table and winked. Then, breaking off his conversation with Randolph, he lifted his glass.
“I’d like to propose a toast,” he said. He looked at Wynne, his eyes gleaming like polished gold in the candlelight. “To you, elf. I’ve never been more grateful for anything in my life.”
There was a momentary silence and then Randolph lifted his glass. “And to Jake. I’m thankful for having the opportunity to finally straighten out our differences. I’m especially thankful he sold some of his land to me. And though I wouldn’t have minded getting my hands on Chesterfield Ranch…” He grinned to let everyone know he was just kidding.
“He’s happy to settle for a parcel of fine riverfront acreage instead,” Evie finished for him. “And so am I.”
Laura lifted her glass next, sending Peter a blatantly besotted look. “Well, I can’t tell you how thankful I am to discover that Texas men aren’t nearly as bad as I remember.”
“Here, here,” Peter said, shooting her an equally besotted look. “And I can’t tell you how grateful I am to hear her say that.”
Buster grabbed his glass of milk and hefted it with two hands. “I’m thankful, too, ‘cause Jake slewed our dragon.”
All eyes turned to Chick, and Wynne sent up a silent prayer. Slowly he popped his thumb from his mouth. “I’s thankful I can talk,” he announced in a clear, piping voice.
After the laughter had died, Jake glanced at Wynne. “And what about you? What are you thankful for?”
A slow, radiant smile crept across her mouth. “I’m thankful that this house has a nursery.”
Seven sets of eyes pivoted in her direction, reflecting various degrees of shock.
Then Jake said, “You mean—”
* * * * *
Look out next month for ACCIDENTAL WIFE, the second book in Day Leclaire’s wonderful trilogy.
eISBN: 978-14592-7763-2
TEMPORARY HUSBAND
First North American Publication 1996.
Copyright © 1996 by Day Totton Smith.
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.
All characters In this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention.
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