by Connie Mason
Willoughby had finally gained his feet, though he still clutched his groin protectively. “That man has to go when we marry,” he ground out, eyeing Cully balefully. “I’m leaving, and when I return it will be with the law to back me up. I know how attached you are to this land, so I’ll also bring a preacher along in case you change your mind about marrying me.”
“Don’t bother,” Zoey said with bravado. “I’m marrying my fiancé as soon as he arrives, which should be any day now.”
Willoughby laughed harshly. “Choose something nice to wear for our wedding. Get rid of those britches.”
Leaning against the door for support, Pierce watched Willoughby leave, curious about Zoey’s “fiancé.” Pierce didn’t like Samson Willoughby’s looks. Somewhere in his mid-thirties, Willoughby wasn’t unattractive, but his long ferret face had a sly look about it Pierce didn’t trust. His eyes were so light a blue as to appear colorless. He was of medium height and build, but Pierce suspected Willoughby was stronger than he looked.
But none of this was any of his business, Pierce told himself. He had his own problems. He’d been accused of something he didn’t do, and couldn’t return home to his own ranch until his brothers cleared up the mess.
Pierce couldn’t blame Zoey for trying to protect her ranch; he’d react in the same way. His home and family meant everything to him. The only difference was that the Delaney brothers were quite prosperous and had no need to mortgage their land.
Pierce was reluctant to return to bed now that he’d gotten this far. His fever wasn’t completely gone, but each day he grew a little stronger, though he still had a long way to go. Another week or two and he’d be strong enough to leave the bed permanently. Somehow he had to contact his brothers and find out if Cora Lee had retracted her story yet, and if he was still being hunted by the vigilantes.
“What are you doing out of bed?” Zoey asked as she set the tray of food she was carrying down on the nightstand and assisted Pierce back to bed.
Pierce hated to admit it, but he was still too weak to roam about, no matter how much he detested lying in bed. A scant week ago he’d been knocking at death’s door.
“What makes you think Willoughby is lying about the mortgage?” Pierce asked as Zoey set the tray on his lap. “Perhaps your father did mortgage the ranch.”
“You heard?”
“I couldn’t help hearing.” He stared at her, thinking she looked beautiful with her face flushed and her vivid blue eyes flashing angrily. “If Willoughby is lying, the deed to your land would be in your possession. Do you have it?”
Zoey shook her head. “I’ve torn the house apart looking for the deed, but can’t find it. But I know Pa wouldn’t mortgage the farm without telling me.”
“You have no idea what may have happened?”
“None, except … shortly after Pa’s death, the house was broken into. Nothing seemed to be missing, so I didn’t give it another thought. It was such a sad time. The hands were quitting and our livestock was disappearing. Shortly afterward, Samson Willoughby started pestering me about paying the mortgage, insisting that payment was long overdue.”
“What about your fiancé? Why isn’t he helping you?”
Zoey gave him a startled look. “That’s none of your business.”
“You’re right. In a few days I’ll be on my way.” But he still couldn’t help his curiosity.
“Where will you go? You don’t appear to be a man who enjoys being on the run. That Riley Reed fellow mentioned something about your brothers. What about parents?”
“They’re gone,” he said tersely. “There are just Chad and Ryan at home besides myself. I’m the eldest. Our ranch lies west of the city of Dry Gulch. That’s all you need to know, Miss Fuller.”
“That’s more than I want to know, Mr. Delaney.” Impossible man, Zoey thought crossly. He wasn’t a bit grateful. She should have let him die.
* * *
That night Zoey picked at her supper, wracking her brain for a solution to her nearly insurmountable problems. For weeks she’d been taunting Willoughby with a fiancé who didn’t exist. What was she going to do when the man failed to arrive? Marrying Samson Willoughby was unfathomable and utterly repulsive. Just the thought of him kissing her, touching her, doing all those things married couples did, made her want to vomit. Yet what choice did she have?
She was willing to do anything—anything!—to keep from losing the land her father had worked years to own, toiled tirelessly to make prosper. But marrying Willoughby was where she put her foot down.
Zoey’s stomach rebelled as she put down her fork and pushed her plate away. She had to do something, but what? Why couldn’t there really be a fiancé ready and willing to help her fight Willoughby? Why …
Zoey went still as her mind suddenly grasped at the single, lifesaving thread dangling before her. Why hadn’t she thought of it before?
Chapter 3
Zoey spent the next twenty-four hours mulling over what she would say to Pierce. It wasn’t going to be easy. She perceived in Pierce a hostility toward women. Somewhere, at some time in his past, a woman had hurt him. No matter, she would do whatever was necessary to save her ranch. Her idea was sound. Had Pierce been in possession of his strength, she might have the courage to never approach him with her proposal, but he was more or less captive to whatever she suggested. Pierce was too weak to leave his bed, let alone leave the ranch.
Pierce owed her for saving his life, Zoey tried to convince herself. He would have died if she hadn’t found him and rescued him from death’s jaws. She could have easily turned him over to the vigilantes when they came for him, but she hadn’t. That should count for something. Now all she had to do was convince Pierce that her plan was sound.
Deciding to beard the lion in his den, Zoey slowly climbed the stairs to lay out her plan before Pierce. His mood was anything but pleasant when she entered the room.
“It’s about time you showed up,” Pierce growled impatiently. “I finished eating hours ago. Where’s Cully? Thought maybe we could play some cards. Lying in bed all day staring at the ceiling is killing me.”
“And good evening to you,” Zoey greeted cheerily. She decided to ignore Pierce’s bad humor. Men rarely made good patients.
“I’m getting out of this bed tomorrow,” Pierce warned.
“I don’t think so. Turn around, let me look at your wound. I haven’t changed the bandage yet today.”
Pierce glared at her, then eased over on his stomach so she could get to his wound. “How does it look?”
She peeled the bandage away. “It’s healing. How do you feel?”
“Tolerable. I’m not ready to ride yet, but it won’t be long.”
“You’re a long way from healed, Mr. Delaney.”
He winced as she placed a new bandage upon the wound. Her cool hands felt soothing on his flesh. “Don’t you think it’s time you called me Pierce? You’ve probably seen more of me than my own mother.”
Zoey flushed. That was certainly true. She had washed every inch of him with cold water, trying to bring down his fever. “Very well, Pierce. You may call me Zoey.”
“I already do. Are you embarrassed at seeing so much of me?”
“Not in the least,” she lied. She’d never seen a man’s naked body before. And this man’s body appeared to be an extraordinary specimen. “Your temperament hasn’t improved any, Pierce. All finished. You can turn around now.”
Carefully he slid around to his back. “Thank you. Are you going to send Cully up here or not?”
“Not,” Zoey said succinctly. “There’s something I wish to talk to you about.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. If you’re going to ask me to reimburse you for your care, I agree. There’s money in my vest. There should be enough there to satisfy you.” He should have known money would come into the conversation sooner or later. There wasn’t a woman alive who wasn’t out to beggar a man.
“I don’t want your money.”
Pierce’s eyes narrowed. “What do you want, then?”
Zoey flushed but refused to be intimidated by Pierce’s bad temper. What she wanted from him was more important to her than money. She drew herself up to her full five foot three and returned his glare.
“Very well, Mr. Delaney, I do want something from you.” Her heart hammered loudly inside her chest; she wondered if Pierce could hear it. She swallowed convulsively and continued. “You know that Samson Willoughby is pressuring me to marry him.”
Pierce nodded, waiting. He knew he wasn’t going to like what Miss Zoey Fuller had to say.
“I despise the man and have steadfastly refused to marry him. You also know I can turn you over to the vigilantes any time I wish. You could run, but in your condition you won’t get far.”
Jagged shards of green fire stabbed into her. His voice was harsh and derisive. “Are you trying to blackmail me? Tell me what you want.”
Zoey exhaled sharply. “I want you to marry me. Now, today, tomorrow at the very latest. In name only, of course. Once Willoughby realizes I’m no longer free to marry, he’ll leave me alone. Maybe he’ll even forget about the mortgage. At the very least, it will give me time to prove he’s a liar and a cheat. After a suitable time you can leave and seek an annulment.”
Pierce stared at her as if she had two heads. She could tell he was furious by the stiff way in which he held his body. “Are you loco, lady? What about your fiancé? Wouldn’t he object?”
“There is no fiancé. I made him up to buy some time.”
“What makes you think I’d agree to marry you?”
“I hold all the cards, Pierce. It wouldn’t take much to get that lynching party back here. They didn’t appear to be the kind of men willing to listen to lengthy explanations. You’ve already said you wouldn’t marry Cora Lee. What choice do you have?”
Damn conniving female had him over a barrel, Pierce thought, too furious to speak. If Zoey called in the local vigilantes, he’d be sent back to Dry Gulch. He wouldn’t stand a chance. If he continued to resist marriage to Cora Lee, he’d be hung before the circuit judge came through town. And he’d be damned before he’d play papa to Cora Lee’s bastard, if indeed she was in the family way. He spitout a curse. Women were all schemers, and Zoey was more clever than most. She wasn’t above using blackmail to rope him into her harebrained plot.
On the other hand, Pierce knew he was in no condition to flee. If he refused, Zoey threatened to call in the law. Was she capable of doing such a thing? He thought she was. Desperate women were capable of anything. His only hope was to bide his time and pray that his brothers found the man who beat Cora Lee, or convince Cora Lee to tell the truth. The truth would vindicate him.
“Give me your answer,” Zoey pressed. God, she hated what she was doing, but she was under tremendous pressure. Her dream was to marry a man she loved, a man who wanted her. And obviously Pierce Delaney was dead set against marrying any woman.
Pierce’s eyes turned hard and his lips pulled into a taut smile. “So you want to marry me.”
Zoey didn’t like the sound of that. “Only for a short time. Until I can find the missing deed and prove Willoughby a liar.”
“You want this to be a marriage in name only?” Pierce qualified. His gaze rested on her breasts.
Heat suffused her. What was he getting at? “Of course, I’d have it no other way.”
Without warning, Pierce grabbed her arm and pulled her down onto the bed. She fell atop him, but he ignored the pain. “Tell me, Miss Zoey Fuller, what will you do if I demand my husbandly right?”
Zoey looked into the glittering depths of his green eyes and suddenly found it difficult to breathe. “You wouldn’t!”
He nodded grimly.
“Why? You don’t even know me.”
Deliberately trying to frighten her into changing her mind, Pierce said, “I know all I need to know. You’re a woman, a damned attractive one, too.”
Zoey felt the heat of his gaze searing her. “Let me up!”
Looking deeply into the clear blue depths of her eyes, Pierce very deliberately placed a hand on her breast, squeezing gently, rubbing the unfettered nipple between his thumb and forefinger. With satisfaction, he watched her eyes widen in shock.
“No!”
“That’s only a taste of what we’ll do if you force me into this marriage.”
“But …”
Pierce couldn’t resist the temptation of those moist lips, slightly parted and ripely lush. Grabbing a handful of hair in his fist, he pulled her head back and tasted her. Her breath was sweetly scented, and against his will Pierce was drawn deeper into the magic of the kiss. He heard her whimper as his tongue thrust past her teeth into her mouth, but he couldn’t have stopped now if he wanted to. And he certainly didn’t want to. Surprisingly, he was enjoying the lesson he was teaching Zoey.
Zoey resisted fiercely when Pierce’s tongue swept past her teeth into her mouth. Her body stiffened in his arms and she pulled away abruptly. Pierce groaned in frustration. He was enjoying this too much! When she backed away from him, his look of blunt sexual calculation brought heat rushing to her cheeks.
“Are you willing to surrender to me as a wife should?” Pierce asked harshly. “Because if we marry, I’ll damn sure demand my rights.”
Scrambling off the bed, Zoey backed away, glaring at him in confusion. Her face was flushed, her chest rising and falling with each angry breath she took. A distinct sense of unreality engulfed her, as if this were all a bad dream. But she wasn’t stupid, she knew Pierce was trying to frighten her. Yet she couldn’t deny his kiss had sent her stomach into a wild whirl. The fact that she had responded to his kiss, even for a moment, stunned her. It wouldn’t happen again.
Hands on hips, she challenged him boldly. “If you do anything like that again, I’ll bring the vigilantes here faster than you can say your name. I know what you’re doing and it won’t work. You have no choice, Mr. Delaney. We’ll marry under my terms or you’ll find yourself facing a noose.”
“Like hell! If you want me, it’s my terms we’ll agree upon.” He gave her a smile ripe with sexual innuendo. “I won’t be this weak forever.”
“Forget it, Mr. Delaney. I’m the one calling the shots.”
“No way, lady!” He struggled into an upright position, swung his feet over the side of the bed, and managed to stand. “I’m getting the hell out of here.”
He made it through the door and just beyond it before collapsing a few steps short of the stairs. Zoey had to force herself not to go to him. She had to stick to her guns if she wanted to win this battle of wills. Otherwise she’d have to choose between losing her ranch and marrying Samson Willoughby. Marrying Pierce made sense. Willoughby couldn’t demand that she marry him if she was already married, and Pierce could remain here until his brothers solved his problems back home.
“Are you ready to listen to reason, Pierce?” Zoey asked sweetly. “You’re still weak as a kitten.” She helped him to his feet and back to bed. “I know how badly you want to get out of that bed, but you still have a way to go before you’re well enough to ride. After we marry you can leave anytime you wish. All I need is your name. In time, you can apply for an annulment.”
He gave her a bleak, tight-lipped smile. “You seem to hold the upper hand, lady, for now. Women are all alike. Pretty or plain, smart or dumb, you always find a way to get what you want. And it’s the man who usually pays the price.”
“You sure do have a low opinion of women.”
Pierce gave her a slow, sensual smile. “Oh, I like women well enough … for certain things, at certain times. In fact,” he said, reaching for her, “I could use one right now.”
Zoey scooted out of his reach. “The only thing you can use right now is sleep. Good night, Pierce. I’ll send Cully to town for the preacher first thing in the morning. Is that agreeable?”
“It’s your call, Zoey.”
Though soft, his voice was edged with steel. Z
oey prayed she wasn’t making a mistake. Entering into a marriage in name only was the lesser of two evils.
“So be it. Rest well, Pierce.” She turned to leave.
“Zoey.”
She paused at the door.
“Do you think you can find a dress to wear at our wedding? And I’d appreciate it if you’d find me a decent pair of pants and shirt that aren’t bloodstained.”
She nodded curtly and continued out the door.
“Zoey,” he called after her. “Bring my guns.”
Though she was out of sight, he heard her answer clearly.
“No.”
Damn conniving female, Pierce raged. Zoey Fuller had done nothing to allay his distrust of women. She’d saved his life only to turn around and demand his freedom in payment. She should have let him die, he thought, then immediately changed his mind. Death was too final, and this marriage needn’t be. Besides, he’d already come to despise Samson Willoughby. And he had nowhere else to go right now. Dry Gulch certainly offered no option.
Pierce knew he was at a disadvantage and hated it. He was too weak to ride away from the Circle F, and unable to prove his innocence if he did. Only Cora Lee could free him with the truth, and he prayed his brothers would convince her to do so.
Damn, he wished he had his guns.
Zoey appeared in Pierce’s room bright and early the next morning. She carried a basin of water and shaving gear that had belonged to her father.
Pierce’s brow slanted upward. “I assume that’s for me.” He rubbed a hand over the beginnings of a fine beard. “I was getting kind of fond of this.”
Zoey placed a towel on his chest and worked up a lather in a cup. Then she tested the razor with the edge of her thumb.
“Whoa, you’re not going to use that on me, are you?”
“That’s what it’s for. I can’t shave you with a dull razor. This one has a fine edge. Pa kept it clean and sharp.”
“Get me a mirror, I’ll do it myself.”
“I don’t think so.” She slapped the lather on his face and nearly laughed aloud when it got into his mouth and he began to sputter. “Lie still,” she warned. “I’m very good at this, but only if you don’t make me nervous.”
