by Anna DePalo
Well done, Melton.
He realized suddenly that Colin and Hawk were looking at him and waiting.
He looked from one to the other of his companions. “Have I missed something?”
“Should we expect to read news of your protracted divorce battle in the Intelligencer?” Hawk countered with a question of his own.
“I bloody well hope not,” Sawyer responded grimly.
“You’re going to persuade Tamara not to divorce you, then?”
Persuade wasn’t exactly the right word, Sawyer thought. Threaten and coerce were more accurate.
“I’ve talked to her,” he responded shortly.
It had been two days since his confrontation with Tamara at the loft, and since then, he’d stubbornly embraced his righteous anger.
“Talked?” Hawk queried now.
“I laid the alternatives out for her.” Sawyer’s lips thinned. “The ball’s in her court.”
Hawk said nothing for a moment, and then gave a short bark of laughter. “In other words, you went in all hotheaded.” He shook his head slowly, ruefully. “I never thought I’d see the day.”
“What?” Sawyer asked irritably.
Hawk traded a glance with Colin. “I never thought I’d see the day you’d lose your head over a woman.”
Sawyer gave a grunt.
Was Hawk right? Had he lost his head? Tamara had a way of firing his blood, in more ways than one. He’d never had a woman get under his skin that way.
But he’d lived too long, had borne too much witness to his own parents’ divorce, and was too aware of his and Tamara’s differences to believe he was in l—
Hell and damn.
The realization hit him like a punch to the stomach.
“I don’t see what you know about it, Hawkshire,” he nevertheless responded with aristocratic hauteur. “Isn’t there a wedding planner somewhere who’d dispute your understanding of women?”
Hawk surprised him by refusing to take the bait, and instead, shrugged. “I’ve learned a few things since. Or maybe it’s just easier to see someone else’s situation clearly.”
Sawyer remained silent.
Had he lost his grip on reasonable behavior where Tamara was concerned? But then, when had he ever been reasonable about Tamara?
And more importantly, Sawyer thought, what was he going to do about it now that she refused to believe or trust him?
When the loft buzzer sounded, Tamara was expecting a delivery person or perhaps an unexpected client.
It was a Friday evening, but people had been dropping by regularly to visit her studio ever since her engagement and subsequent quick marriage.
She knew she had Sawyer to thank for the buzz.
Sawyer.
No, she wouldn’t let her mind go there.
But when she went to the intercom, she discovered it wasn’t a delivery or client. Instead, her father asked to gain entrance.
Without acknowledgment, she hit the button to unlock the building door downstairs, left her front door ajar and then wandered back deeper into the apartment, her arms wrapping around herself.
She turned around only when she heard her father’s footsteps and then the loft door closing. She knew she looked peaked from her latest crying jag and lack of sleep, but she didn’t care. It was only pregnancy hormones, she told herself.
She eyed her father warily. “What are you doing here?”
As usual, he was dressed in a business suit for the office.
She wasn’t sure why she hadn’t turned him away. Perhaps because she thought he hadn’t truly received his comeuppance. She’d left her ire for Sawyer three days ago, and her father had, advisedly and rather uncharacteristically, beaten a hasty retreat from the field of battle.
Rather than respond directly, her father surveyed her. “You look awful.”
“Thank you,” she retorted.
“In fact, you remind me of myself during one of my divorces.”
“I’m surprised that disposing of a wife affected you that much.”
Her father sighed. “I suppose in your eyes I bear a passing resemblance to Henry VIII.”
“My only quibble is with the word passing.”
Her father’s lips lifted in barest acknowledgment as he stepped farther into the loft and took a seat in her armchair.
She remained standing.
“I suppose there’s much we can quibble about, including the particulars of my divorces, some known, some not.”
“I’ve witnessed enough.”
“Perhaps.” Her father looked around, his eyes coming to rest on a nearby display case before looking back at her. “It’s quite an inviting space that you have here.”
“Thank you. I managed to hold on to it with a devil’s bargain.”
Her father raised his eyebrows mildly. “Sawyer?”
She nodded. “He covered my rent and then some in return for a short marriage of convenience until the merger went through. Of course, I didn’t know you had attached a very significant additional condition.” She glared. “How could you?”
Her father sighed. “You never asked me why I wanted this match between you and Sawyer.”
“Kincaid News,” she responded succinctly.
“True, but the old earl and I also thought you and Sawyer would suit.”
She arched a brow. “After the failed marriages that you both experienced?”
Her father shrugged. “Every marriage is different. Your mother’s inability to adapt to being a viscountess was just one of the reasons that our marriage didn’t work, though it was a major one.”
“The other being that your heart belonged to Kincaid News?”
Her father grimaced. “I did do my best to make you appreciate your heritage, both with Kincaid News and the title.”
“Yes, you did,” she allowed. “But anyone can see that Sawyer and I are—”
“—meant to be together.”
She shook her head stubbornly. “Will you do anything to succeed? Sawyer has been pretending.”
“Then he’s a damned fine actor.” Her father sighed again. “I’ve had three wives. Allow me to boast some discernment when it comes to a man being ruled by his passion for a particular woman against all reason.”
Tamara almost laughed. True, Sawyer had a surprisingly passionate side, but he was also a ruthless and calculating operator of the first order.
Much like her father.
“You always accused me of putting Kincaid News first, and that may be so. But Sawyer is a different breed, or at least he’s become different.” Her father shot her a piercing look. “This isn’t about business. Quite clearly he values something else more these days.”
“All the evidence is to the contrary,” she replied bitterly. “Especially now that victory is in his grasp. In a few short months, he’ll be a father.”
The minute the words were out of her mouth, Tamara clamped her lips shut.
“Ah, I see,” her father said, a twinkle in his eyes. “May I extend my heartiest felicitations?”
“Sawyer didn’t tell you?”
Her father shook his head. “No. I imagine he wanted to protect you from further upset.”
Her gut twisted. “I suppose making me pregnant is quite enough.”
“Sawyer is refusing to go ahead with the merger,” her father announced. “Only you can get him to see sense and change his mind.”
Tamara’s heart clenched. Sawyer was refusing to proceed with the merger? She couldn’t fathom it, even as her heart whispered that it was because of her. Because he cared.
Still, she steeled herself—she’d been hurt and betrayed too much already. “Do you really expect me to care?”
Her father scrutinized her face. “I believe you do care, whether you want to or not.”
She sniffed. “It’ll pass.”
Her father grasped the arms of his chair and rose. “If you felt that way about him, you wouldn’t be pregnant in the first place.”
Tam
ara opened and closed her mouth.
Her father gave her a little smile. “Perhaps you’ve met your match.” Then he leaned over and peered at the jewelry she had on display inside a glass case. “Your craftsmanship is quite superb. I imagine that with someone at your side handling the business angle, you’ll have no problem becoming exactly who you want to be.”
“Oh? And who would that be?” she asked challengingly.
Her father surprised her by straightening, and then walking over to her and giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “You’ll figure it out. You can keep holding on to bitterness at a perceived wrong, or you can leap with your heart. I may be a serial divorcé, but I also never stopped believing in the leap of faith.”
He tapped her nose. “In fact, I made another leap of faith with you and Sawyer. Don’t try to prove me wrong for the sake of making a point.”
After her father had departed, Tamara was left to ponder his words as she absently moved things about in the loft.
Today had been the closest she and her father had ever come to an honest and forthright conversation. And it was all due to Sawyer, strangely enough.
And Sawyer was calling off the merger.
She supposed she should thank him.
Or stay mad at him.
Or…take a leap of faith.
Tamara stared at the pouring rain beating against her loft windows from her position looking out over the back of her couch. As soon as the thunderstorm let up, she promised herself she’d leave.
She nervously fingered one of the emeralds on the necklace that encircled her neck.
She was going to make the biggest leap of faith of her life today.
She looked down at herself. She’d carefully chosen the scoop-neck beige knit dress to show off her necklace to its greatest advantage.
A rap sounded at her front door, startling her. She wondered who it might be. Her buzzer hadn’t sounded from downstairs.
She crossed the room and checked the peephole. She stilled, but then in the next moment, she opened the door.
Sawyer stood there, wetness clinging to the shoulders of his open trench coat and to his trouser legs.
She hungrily took in the sight of him.
“May I come in?” he asked. “One of your neighbors was kind enough to allow me to follow him into the building.”
Silently, she stepped aside, and then shut the door once Sawyer was inside.
Then they stood facing each other. Neither spoke, though the air between them was fraught with tense energy.
She studied his face. It had the same smooth, uncompromising planes as always, but droplets of rain clung to his tawny hair, and his eyes…
The expression in his golden eyes was pure, undisguised longing, and she caught her breath.
He held out some papers in his hand. “These are the documents so far for the proposed merger. Tear them up if you want.”
She swallowed hard as she took them from him and placed them aside. “Why?”
He raked his free hand through his damp hair. “Because I can do without Kincaid News, but I can’t live without you. Because I’ve searched for a way to have you trust me, and this is the only way I have left to try to convince you that you matter more.”
She sucked in a breath. “Oh, Sawyer.”
“I took the wrong tack when I came here the other day,” he went on. “But for the record, you still have something that belongs to me.”
“What’s that?”
He took her hand and guided it until it lay flat against his heart.
Her eyes widened. And then, all of a sudden, her heart began to thud loudly.
Time slowed. From outside, the dim noise of the roaring city could be heard.
Her lips parted, and then closed again.
Emotion clogged her throat. “I—”
“Help me out,” Sawyer joked, his voice nevertheless carrying an undercurrent of need.
Instead of replying, she went on tiptoes, pulled his head down to hers and pressed her lips against his mouth.
In response, he banded his arms around her, and opened his mouth over hers.
They kissed in a hot press of need, unable to get enough of each other.
When they came up for air, he looked into her eyes. “I love you.”
“Oh, Sawyer.” She felt the prick of tears. “I love you, too.”
Tenderly, he cupped her face and stroked his thumbs over the dampness near her eyes. “What’s this? Tears for me?”
She nodded. “I’ve been shedding buckets for the past several days.” She took a tremulous breath. “In fact, I was coming to see you just as soon as the rain let up.”
He looked at her inquiringly.
“My father came here yesterday to tell me you were refusing to go through with the merger, and he had some surprisingly sage advice to deliver with the news.”
“Shocking.”
She gave a smile at his dry humor. “I thought so, too. Apparently, it was clear to others much sooner than it was to us that we’d suit, quite apart from Kincaid News or Melton Media. He made me begin to think…to hope…”
“Sweetheart.” Sawyer lowered his hands as his eyes traveled down to her throat. “Is that why you’re wearing the necklace?”
She nodded. “I thought you’d take it as a sign when I showed up on your doorstep. Did you mean it when you said the necklace was always meant for me?”
Her heart squeezed because his answer still mattered.
“Yes,” he said, lifting his shoulders with obvious mock regret. “There was no past girlfriend. The jewelry was a ploy to get close to you.”
Relief washed over her even as she swatted him. “Oh, you…”
He chuckled as he caught her hand, but then sobered. “I promise, no more deception.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “I was so hurt and angry when I discovered you had to sleep with me in order to gain control of Kincaid News.”
“There was no had to about it,” he countered. “It was pure want all the way. I may have told myself in the beginning that it was at least partly for the sake of the company, but ever since our first kiss, I’d been fighting my growing desire for you.”
“Do you think we’ll be able to make it work?”
“What? Our marriage?” She nodded.
“We have so far.”
She gave a small smile. “Do you think the world is ready for a Countess of Melton who sports a tattoo?”
“They already are,” he replied, his hand inching up her dress and caressing her thigh. “And they’re going to love your jewelry.”
She searched his face. “You really want me to continue designing jewelry?”
“Yes, without a doubt. You have a wealth of talent. And on top of it all—” he smiled with secret promise “—I have some jewelry I’d like to commission for a certain woman.”
“Oh?” she asked, even as he lowered the zipper on her dress and let it drop to the ground—in the process, doing delicious things to her insides.
“There’s a necklace I have in mind for a certain flame-haired, green-eyed entrepreneur.”
“Mmm?”
“Yes,” he said huskily, trailing a finger down her cleavage. “I have an idea in mind for a large ruby pendant that will come to rest right here.”
“Do tell,” she said. “I see the beginnings of a wonderful collaboration.”
“One of many,” he responded.
And then he proceeded to demonstrate exactly how pleasurable their latest collaboration could be.
Epilogue
“This is fast becoming your favorite spot.”
Tamara looked up and smiled at Sawyer. She nodded toward the ducks nearby as he sat down next to her on the picnic blanket. “We have to keep up appearances for the ducks. Kiss me.”
Sawyer arched a brow, but amusement lurked in his eyes. “I doubt they’re expecting us to act all lovey-dovey.”
She nodded seriously. “Their sense of well-being depends on it.”
“In that case…”
He obliged her with one of his heart-hammering kisses. Afterward, he tucked her into his embrace and nuzzled her temple.
Tamara sighed. She and Sawyer had decided to make as many trips back and forth across the Atlantic as they could until it was no longer possible for her to travel during her pregnancy.
And Gantswood Hall was fast becoming her favorite retreat. She looked forward to raising children here—and in New York.
She was still finding her way in her role as the Countess of Melton. She trod the line between expectation and her own temperament. But in the way that mattered most, she knew she filled her role exceptionally well—she had Sawyer’s love.
“Your father has arrived,” Sawyer remarked.
“Oh?”
“Business matters,” Sawyer replied shortly.
She nodded. Of course, her father had been thrilled with the news that Tamara and Sawyer had reconciled.
“Not come to gloat again, has he?” she asked, turning her head.
Sawyer laughed. “Maybe that, too.”
With a baby on the way, and Sawyer and Tamara so obviously devoted to each other, Viscount Kincaid had declared himself completely satisfied.
Tamara sighed. “Oh, well. Gantswood Hall is a large estate. Let him gloat in the east wing.”
Sawyer laughed. “We could have warring factions under the same roof, and it would hardly register in a home the size of Gantswood Hall.”
Tamara smiled wistfully. “Speaking of warring factions, I wish Belinda and Pia would resolve their differences with Colin and Hawk. It would be nice to invite our friends here at the same time.”
“They’ll work out matters,” Sawyer said with conviction. “Now kiss me—there’s a duck eyeing us.”
Tamara laughed and turned for Sawyer’s kiss.
Some things were worth more than the most precious gems.
ISBN: 978-1-4268-6448-3
HIS BLACK SHEEP BRIDE
Copyright © 2010 by Anna DePalo
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 editorial office, Silhouette Books, 233 Broadway, New York, NY 10279 U.S.A.
