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The Marriage Bargain
Susan Fox
A husband in name only? Hallie had never even been in love–now she must marry to save her home! She just needed a wedding certificate–well, first she had to find a bridegroom…Wes Lansing was her neighbor and the ideal candidate. Only, what could a shy virgin like Hallie offer this dynamic man? Wes was intrigued and the marriage deal was struck. But could Hallie handle her new husband?



“I can’t wear this,” Hallie whispered
She couldn’t wear the beautiful engagement ring, she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t take her eyes from it. And she couldn’t keep her heart from breaking over the gesture.
“Please…take it off,” Hallie begged.
“It’s tradition,” Wes insisted.
“This isn’t a real marriage,” she got out hastily.
She couldn’t bear the new sharpness in his dark eyes and her gaze fled his. She pulled her hand from his and immediately took hold of the ring to take it off.
Wes caught her hands before she could remove the ring….
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…
The Marriage Bargain
Susan Fox


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)

CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE (#u78865550-2ea5-536c-ad2a-81355f9960a0)
CHAPTER TWO (#u71ad34a0-8abd-5f53-8774-e88a86240846)
CHAPTER THREE (#ud8b11b73-a2db-57c5-b2dd-aa14d74f82de)
CHAPTER FOUR (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ONE
HALLIE Corbett stared at the elderly man on the hospital bed. Grave illness hadn’t dimmed Hank Corbett’s harshness or the spite in his nature.
“You heard me,” he panted. His gray eyes bore into hers. Gunmetal gray. Like a pair of Colts aimed at her brain, threatening her heart, imperiling the only life she’d ever known.
“You don’t get a dime or a single Corbett investment. Candice gets all that.”
Hallie was stoic. She’d learned early in life that showing emotion made her a target for attack. She sensed a follow-up to her grandfather’s declaration. He always threw her a crumb, some insignificant scrap that kept her in the game.
He’d made her an emotional gambler. He’d barred her from his heart, but he always dangled something to keep her in range, to keep her hoping. And, like a dog about to starve to death, she always grabbed for the scrap. Though the crumb often turned out to be a mirage, it was the promise of a win that lured her.
And hope. Hope that the old man had let her stay on all these years because he had some fondness for the illegitimate child of his disgraced daughter.
Shaky promises and hope. Her real enemies, not the old man on the bed or her cousin, Candice, the granddaughter Hank Corbett doted on.
Her voice was low, but loud enough for him to hear. “What about the ranch?”
“Four C’s belongs to the Corbett worthy to carry on the legacy.”
Hallie felt the familiar surge of jealousy and frustration, but was careful to keep her tone neutral. “Legacy means nothing to Candice. She’ll have a buyer before they close your grave.”
The words were brutal, but she ignored the shiver of guilt. She was fighting for her home, for the only thing she might ever have.
The old man’s eyes sparkled with interest. He was like a wolf who’d caught a whiff of fresh blood. “You want it bad, don’t you?”
Her lips went stiff with the effort to suppress a tremor of emotion. She didn’t answer because they both knew she wanted the ranch. She loved the land. It didn’t play favorites. It was no more harsh with her than it was with anyone else. She’d made peace with its wildness; it was in her blood.
Four C’s Ranch was the only place she really did belong. And it wasn’t the house or family that had given her a feeling of place, but the Texas soil itself and all that was nurtured by it. She’d held out this long for a chance at ownership. At least a piece.
The elderly man on the bed chuckled then choked, his face going red with the coughing spasm that silenced his mirth. Hallie made no move toward the bed because he’d reject her display of concern. He’d never allowed her to express even a hint of affection. He’d never offered her any.
When he recovered from the spasm, he closed his eyes. Hallie thought at first that he was dismissing her, but then his eyes opened and shot straight to hers. The gleam was back.
“You’ve been a shame on this family since your mama brought you home to me. But you’re blood, however you got bred. Won’t leave you a dime more than the first six months operating expenses, but you can have Four C’s. If you get a husband before I die.”
The words were so stupefying that Hallie forgot to mask her expression.
Hank Corbett smiled, a curve of pale lips that made him look truly evil. “Folks ’round here think you don’t like men. Most aren’t sure you’re even female. Bastard’s one thing, but I won’t let a misfit inherit Four C’s. Legacy can’t live through a single woman who’ll never breed heirs.”
Hallie felt her head go light. The room actually started to spin.
“Had the lawyer put it in the will. Go see ’im if you got doubts. Make ’im show it to you.” He expelled a weary breath. “Now get out of here. I need some rest.”
Still in shock, Hallie turned and with rigid dignity walked from the room. When she reached the hall, she got only a few steps before she stopped and put out a hand to the wall for support. She was shaking all over.
She could have Four C’s. Thirty thousand acres, shining in her mind like a massive jewel. It could be hers. The prize she’d hoped for, waited for and endured a lifetime of pain and deprivation to have a chance at. He’d willed it to her then yanked it away before she could reach for it.
A husband. Women like her didn’t find husbands.
According to her grandfather, most people weren’t sure she was female. Of course he’d say that. Anything to snatch away the last bit of confidence that had survived being bullied and shamed out of her.
And he’d accomplished his goal. Because the truth was, few people acknowledged her as a female because they never saw her act like one. She worked on the ranch as hard as a man, doing the same work and putting in the same grueling hours. She didn’t own a dress, and couldn’t remember when she’d last worn one. She’d never had a sweetheart or a date. With Candice around, she doubted men even noticed her.
You can have Four C’s…if you get a husband….
Hank might as well demand that she fly to the moon.
Wes Lansing’s Red Thorn Ranch was as large as the Four C’s. The eastern boundary of the Red Thorn was also the western boundary of the Four C’s. The Lansing and Corbett families had lived side by side for five generations; they’d been enemies for four.
At times, the enmity between the two families had been bloody, but for the past twenty years, it had settled into a wary calm that passed for civility.
Ironically, it was the warring history between the Corbetts and the Lansings that gave Hallie confidence. The feud had started over a parcel of land—a parcel that would be included in the Four C’s land inheritance. If Hallie could meet the requirements to inherit the Four C’s, the parcel would belong to her to do with as she pleased. If Wes Lansing was willing to barter with her to get it, she’d make certain he got the parcel.
Wes was a man just as hard and harsh as her grandfather, but he was known as a man of honor. He was honest and fair in his business dealings and with the people who worked for him.
But the biggest indication of his character was that Wes Lansing was the only eligible male in their part of Texas who was completely immune to her cousin Candice. In spite of the history between the Corbetts and Lansings, Candice had tried for years to snag his interest. And failed. He might be the one man Candice could never seduce away.
How bad did he want the parcel?
Two hours ago, they’d moved her grandfather into Intensive Care. Candice had banished her from the hospital, and Hallie was secretly relieved. Any time she could be spared Candice’s venom was a blessing.
Especially now, when she didn’t want to face her feelings about Hank Corbett’s impending death. Because of the Will, she was taking what he would consider a disloyal step against him, and the knowledge made her queasy.
Hallie’s heart thudded heavily in her chest as she felt the enormity of what she was about to risk. As she walked up the porch steps to the huge veranda that circled the Red Thorn Ranch mansion, her legs felt rubbery.
She reminded herself, for at least the hundredth time, that if she lost her chance at the Four C’s she could leave this part of Texas. If she took this daring chance and was soundly rejected, it was a shame she wouldn’t have to endure long.
She could walk away, find a life somewhere else, someplace where she wasn’t known. The world wouldn’t care that she was illegitimate or that she’d once been desperate enough to ask a man to marry her. If she failed today, she’d go home and pack her things. There’d be no reason to stay around. After Hank Corbett died, Candice would throw her off the Four C’s. Hallie was determined to deny her cousin the pleasure.
The last person Wes Lansing expected to walk into his house was Hallie Corbett. He’d heard old man Corbett was dying but he hadn’t felt a speck of sorrow over it.
If his housekeeper had told him it was Candice Corbett waiting in the front parlor, he might have refused to see her. But the news that his visitor was Candy’s reclusive cousin Hallie intrigued hell out of him.
Though his sister, Beth, had attended school with Candice and Hallie, he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he’d seen Halona Corbett close up. She hardly ever attended social functions. If she’d ever done anything in her life to attract attention it would have been novel enough to make the papers over half of Texas.
Wes leaned back in the big swivel chair behind his desk as he waited for his housekeeper to show Hallie to the den. Whatever she wanted couldn’t be half as interesting as the fact that she’d come to Red Thorn and asked to see him.
As she followed the housekeeper down the long hall to the den, Hallie gripped the neatly folded copy of the Last Will and Testament of Hank Corbett. The will laid out precisely the conditions of her inheritance. That it required the “husband of Halona Corbett’s choice,” and didn’t specifically prohibit her choosing Wes Lansing, made this last gamble possible.
The housekeeper stopped outside the door and motioned her inside. Hallie stepped over the threshold and felt her courage waver.
Wes sat behind his big desk. The moment she walked in, his eyes met hers with a force that almost made her falter. A wave of terror rolled over her from scalp to toe, sending a sharp charge through her that made her bones shake.
The dark-haired giant behind the desk slowly came to his feet in a gesture of respect that caught her off guard. His dark eyes never left hers. His intensity sharpened and she had to fight not to glance away.
He was searching for something, seeking. Years of enduring her grandfather’s relentless search for vulnerability should have made her immune to this. It surprised her to feel so transparent, so threatened.
“Ms. Corbett.”
His low voice was as dark as bourbon and hit her insides with as much kick. The strange warmth that started somewhere in the region of her stomach and flowed outward disrupted her even more.
All at once, the painful emotions of the past few hours caught up with her and she struggled to shore up her nerve. If he would just look away from her a moment, allow her to recover, let her catch her breath.
“Thank you for seeing me.”
His intensity eased and his strong mouth curved in faint acknowledgment of what they both knew: Corbetts weren’t welcome on Red Thorn.
The hint of a smile softened his expression and oddly relaxed her a bit. It suggested that not every Corbett was unwelcome, that he’d perhaps withheld judgment in her case.
The moment she registered the impression, she discounted it. The enmity he must surely bear her grandfather and cousin would naturally be conferred on her. She’d be a fool to think otherwise.
Suddenly she was aware that he was sizing her up, that he’d used her momentary distraction to study her. But this time, his gaze dropped from her face and made a slow journey down her work shirt and jeans to her boots. The trip back was much slower.
No man had ever looked at her so thoroughly. Her first impulse was to cover herself, to hide. But she couldn’t seem to move. And she couldn’t keep from making the same long slow inventory of him.
Wes Lansing was easily over six feet tall. He was built like any other vital man who worked a ranch for a living, but somehow, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped and well-muscled seemed an inadequate description. For a woman who rarely took note of the male physiques she worked next to each day, she was oddly compelled to note everything about him.
His face fascinated her. Below his dark, overlong hair, his features were rugged and harshly cut, hawkish and primitive. He might have been a homely man if he’d had less presence and if his face hadn’t been such a strong indicator of male character. His was a blunt, overpowering masculinity that made her feel fragile and feminine. It was a shocking reaction for a woman who’d rarely allowed herself to consider her femininity or to even think of herself in such precise terms.
Wes took his time. Hallie Corbett was a surprise. She was tall and slender, but she had the right amount of feminine charm in all the right places. Too right, if the heat that surged through his groin was a sign. She had a regal dignity, but there was a faint check in the way she held herself that suggested humility. And yet humility wasn’t it.
His gaze returned to her face and he saw the stain of embarrassment on her cheeks. Her long, dark hair was a thick, rich brown, and it was skinned back with a hair tie that smothered whatever lush waves it might have.
But it was her eyes that caught him. Again. They were a rare shade of blue somewhere between warm and cool, but deep, mysterious. And cautious. She was so guarded.
And she was unaware that he felt her unease. She would have hidden it from him if she’d guessed. He sensed that she hid everything. Considering the s.o.b. who’d raised her, he wasn’t surprised.
“You had a reason for coming to Red Thorn?”
His question sent fresh color into her cheeks. She started toward the desk. He noticed she didn’t take one of the wing chairs in front of it, but then, he hadn’t invited her to sit. It was rude of him, but it was also a test. Corbetts comported themselves as high holies born to rule and reign over lesser mortals.
Hallie Corbett stopped in front of the desk. She held a wad of folded papers in her hand—legal ones, from the look of them—and gripped them as if she thought they’d get away from her. It was plain she wouldn’t sit down unless invited.
Her voice was soft, but clear and distinct.
“I came to ask if you’re still interested in the parcel of land on the back corner of the Four C’s.”
Wes was instantly alert. That parcel of land, the site of the original Lansing homestead, had been stolen by the Corbetts in a land swindle and fought over for generations. Blood had been shed on both sides in the ownership dispute. Any number of Corbetts had sworn to never allow a Lansing to reclaim it.
“Is Hank offering it?” Wes was deliberately noncommittal. What interested him now was Hallie’s reaction. Had the quick shadow that crossed her face been a show of panic?
“No, sir.”
Though he was watching her face closely for a clue about why she’d come here and brought up the subject of the homestead, he saw nothing. Her features were now as blank as uncarved stone.
“Since Hank owns Four C’s and he’s not offering it, you and I’ve got nothing to talk about.”
Hallie’s gaze dropped from his. She unfolded the packet of papers. He sensed that the reason her slim, competent fingers were taking care to flatten the creases in the documents was because she was giving herself time to recover from his rebuff. It was also a delay.
She finished with the task and looked over at him. Her voice was the same clear, even and distinct tone that was evidence of how closely she guarded herself.
“You should have all the facts about ownership before you make that decision. I need to know if you want the parcel.”
It was a small showdown. A test of wills. He felt a spark of satisfaction. Hallie Corbett had a backbone behind all that mystery and guarded caution.
“Yes, Ms. Corbett, I’m interested in the parcel. Have a seat and tell me why you think you and I have anything to talk about.”
Hallie handed over the papers. She sat down in the chair and braced her elbows on the chair arms. She laced her fingers together and regarded him steadily as he sat down on the swivel chair behind his desk.
“If you’d read the highlighted section…”
Hallie let her voice trail off. She couldn’t bring herself to say more. The shame she felt was overwhelming suddenly. Why on earth had she ever thought Wes Lansing would marry her? He wasn’t the sort of man who’d ever consider marriage to someone like her, not even to get something he wanted. Unless he valued that land as much as she valued Four C’s, he’d find her situation laughable.
And when he laughed, then perhaps ridiculed her, it would be over. She’d withstand whatever he said or did, then make an escape that would be something only a little less dramatic than running away like a scalded dog. She’d go to Four C’s, pack her things, then indulge in a last farewell.
It could be over by nightfall. She’d get a room in town until Hank’s funeral, then be on her way to a new life far from the shame and pain and loss that were the only legacy she could ever claim here. Her eyes stung and she clenched her teeth together so hard that they hurt, but she’d claw her eyes out before she’d show tears to a Lansing or anyone else.
She focused on Wes’s face as he read the section, waiting for the moment he realized what the clause meant and what she was here to suggest.
While she watched his gaze sweep left to right and drop down line by line, she witnessed his stern expression evolve into harshness. She saw the hint of anger in the way the hard line of his mouth tightened. She’d figured him for a second read through, but his dark gaze shot up and arrowed into hers.
“What the hell kind of Will is this?”
She didn’t answer because she didn’t know what to say. “I’d like to inherit Four C’s, but I can’t meet the conditions. I thought you should be informed. In case—”
She cut herself off. She couldn’t bring herself to actually make the proposal. Suddenly she wanted to be anyplace but here. For once, the shame she was about to earn for herself seemed far more traumatic than losing the Four C’s.
“I hope you’ll pardon me, Mr. Lansing.” She got up and stepped to the desk. “You were right. We have nothing to discuss.”
She put out a hand for the papers. “I’ll be on my way.”
That last came out on a voiceless gust. Emotions she could barely contain came roaring up and it took everything she had to appear indifferent. “If I might have the papers?”
Wes’s gaze was riveted to hers, making it impossible to break contact. He ignored her request. “Do you trust Hank to honor this Will?”
Hallie withdrew her hand. He was angry, but it wasn’t directed at her. She kept silent as he went on.
“What will you do if he makes another one?”
Hallie fought to keep her gaze locked with his. “I’ve lived with him all my life, Mr. Lansing. I’m aware of the risk.”
“But you came here anyway.”
She could tell nothing from his harsh expression, but she didn’t detect scorn. And she was a master at that.
“I want Four C’s.”
“You’re crazy to think he’ll let you have it.”
The words sent a wave of shame through her. Even Hank Corbett’s enemies knew how little he thought of her.
“You came here for…what?”
A long moment dragged by as she debated what to say. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him outright that she’d come here with a marriage arrangement in mind.
“I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”
Wes’s hard gaze was unrelenting. “How sick is he?”
“Terminal. He could die tonight or he could live a month. They moved him into Intensive Care late this morning.”
“D’you think your cousin would sell me the homestead?”
The question stung. Of course he’d pass over her and go straight to Candice. Perhaps he’d had second thoughts about her cousin. Candice was beautiful, and she’d soon be a fabulously wealthy heiress. The right man might be able to control her and Hallie sensed that if Wes Lansing couldn’t do it, it couldn’t be done. He might not be as immune to her cousin as she’d thought.
“She doesn’t care about Four C’s. I expect her to sell it at the first opportunity. You should be able to deal with the new owner.”
“But you can’t swear she’ll sell out.”
“You could buy the parcel from her.”
His stern mouth twisted. “With strings attached.”
“Then you understand Candice.”
Wes tossed the Will onto the desk and looked away from her. She started to reach for the papers, but his growl froze her midreach. “Leave ’em.”
“I need to be on my way,” she said quietly. It wouldn’t matter if the copy stayed here. The important thing now was to escape. Wes Lansing was simmering, and she had no desire to watch a boil over.
He glared across the desk at her. “So it comes down to a choice between you and Candice.” It wasn’t a question. His glare deepened as he nodded toward her chair. “Sit down. You started this, and by God, you’ll see it through.”
His harshness chilled her. Some faint stir of spirit made her resist. She’d allowed her pride to be trampled by her family all her life. She’d choked on the shreds so she could come to Red Thorn for this last chance. She’d be damned if she let Wes Lansing walk over the battered bits she had left.
“You can keep the Will. Throw it away. Thank you for your time.” She turned away from the desk, but she got only two steps before his hard voice stopped her in her tracks.
“You’ll not shame me.”
The terse words made her glance back at him. “What?”
His dark eyes were fiery and when he slowly stood, she got a frightening impression of power and iron will.
“I won’t stand up in front of a justice of the peace with a woman who’s dressed like a cowhand.”
Hallie turned fully toward him as the shock of what he’d said pounded at her. Surely she’d not heard right.
“We’ll fly to Vegas now and be married by tonight.” He’d made a decision and issued a decree. And in the spirit of old-time cattle kings, he expected instant obedience.
Maybe he didn’t understand the risk. To suddenly capitulate to her unspoken marriage proposal had to mean he didn’t take the hazard seriously.
“You were right the first time. Hank will never honor that Will. If he recovers from today’s setback and even suspects I’ve married, he’ll call his lawyer and change it. Then you’d be stuck with me.”
“I won’t be stuck with you. There’s always annulment.”
The words lashed at her and she fought to keep her voice steady. “By then, you’ll have alienated Candice. She’d never take something that once belong—” She cut herself off. “Not that you really would have, but she’d see it that way. She’d never give you a chance at the homestead.”
“Too late.” His low words sent a shiver through her, and she rushed to make her point.
“Though the Will doesn’t prohibit me from marrying you, I think we both know how Hank will take it if he finds out.” She looked away from him, unable to bear the conflagration in his dark eyes. “This was a foolish idea. Hank wasn’t serious about that Will. He only wrote it to—” she cut herself off, ashamed to reveal the whole truth. “If he lives long enough, he’ll change it anyway. It was a huge imposition to bother you. My apologies.”
She was so scattered suddenly, so profoundly mortified by what she’d done, that she didn’t realize Wes had come around the desk. When his fingers closed around her arm she jumped.
“We can leave for Vegas now. I’ll buy whatever you need when we get there.”
She looked up at him, searching his granite expression for a clue to such tenacity.
The feel of steely strength in his hard fingers sent a flurry of heat and electricity through her that took her breath away. She’d never felt anything like this, and she was both excited and terrified. She shook her head, so dazed and weak-kneed that she felt faint.
“No—”
“We’ll get a lawyer for the prenup. If the old man dies before he can change the will, I want it in writing that you’ll sell me the homestead.”
She shook her head. “But—I’d give it to you.”
“I’ll pay cash. Fair market value.”
He was implacable. Why had she come to this man? It was true, she’d started this, but she wasn’t certain now that she had the courage to finish it. And the biggest reason was Wes Lansing himself. He was too strong for her, too formidable.
“I’m going back to Four C’s, Mr. Lansing. Thank you, but this was a mistake.”
“We made a decision.”
Hallie shook her head. “A decision neither of us can live with. Hank will either die before we can marry or he’ll recover and change the will.”
“I’m willing to risk it.”
“Then we’ll both lose.”
If it was possible, Wes’s features grew more harsh. The hard sparkle in his dark eyes was intimidating. “We could both win. Like I said, you started this. You’re gonna see it through.”
She tried to pull away from him, but his fingers tightened. He rattled her, excited her and scared her half to death. There was a core reason the Corbetts and Lansings had been at war so many years: they were exactly alike. Hank Corbett was harsh, domineering and unforgiving, and Wes Lansing was cut from the same cloth.
Yet in spite of that, she felt herself respond to him. Instinct told her this was something sexual, something so alien in her experience as a female that she didn’t know how to cope with it.
And because she didn’t, she suddenly understood why Wes terrified her. He had the power to do what her grandfather hadn’t quite managed: Wes Lansing could destroy her. She had to find some way to defend herself, some way to stop this.
“Which means, it’s my fault when the bargain goes wrong. No thanks, Lansing.”
She almost couldn’t bear the sharpness in his gaze as it cut over her face. “I’ll take responsibility.”
The vow stunned her. She was always blamed. Why should things be different with him? If anything, it would be worse.
“Is that the truth?” She watched temper surge into his dark eyes. But then, she’d just called his honor into question.
His low voice made it clear. “The first thing you need to learn about me is that I mean what I say.”
She couldn’t tell if he’d meant that as a comfort or a threat.

CHAPTER TWO
THE second thing Hallie learned about Wes Lansing was that he was a despot. Domineering and exacting, with a faint edge of impatience that she sensed more than saw. Before they left Texas, they saw an attorney to draw up the prenuptial agreement that sealed their bargain for the Lansing homestead. They’d also put in writing an agreement that kept either of them from making claim to money or property either of them currently owned or might inherit in the future.
Through it all, Wes seemed to watch every move she made and having so much attention was wearing. She was accustomed to being invisible, so his constant surveillance twisted her nerves so tight that her body felt as taut as piano wire. Her head was pounding by the time their plane touched down in Las Vegas.
In the brisk manner she was quickly coming to expect, Wes ushered her off the jet and through the airport terminal. Unburdened by luggage, they were outside in the Nevada heat far ahead of the swarm of tourists who had packed their flight from Texas. Wes chose the nearest cab and they got in.
Once they’d gotten a marriage license, the afternoon descended into a whirlwind course through the largest shopping mall in Las Vegas. Hours later, they walked out to a waiting cab with the boxes and bags that contained everything Wes decreed was needed for their wedding.
At least she’d paid for her own clothing. Pride dictated it, and a healthy personal bank account made it possible. Neither of them considered the pomp and extravagance of a traditional wedding dress, but she’d ended up buying more than the dress she would wear for the ceremony. Because she owned little more than jeans and work clothes, she took the opportunity to buy three other dresses that appealed to her, along with shoes and lingerie.
Once she’d gone that far, she stopped at a salon where her long hair was shampooed, trimmed, then twisted into a classic style atop her head. She’d even visited a cosmetics counter. Though she’d felt silly letting the clerk talk her into an array of cosmetics, the woman had engineered something of a makeover.
Why had she allowed that?
As Hallie stood in front of the full-length mirror in their hotel suite, she saw her answer in the polished glass.
She no longer looked like a ranch hand; she was a bride. The white linen dress and matching jacket she wore were elegant and sophisticated. The white floppy-brimmed hat that rested stylishly on her upswept hair framed a face that the subtle enhancement of light makeup and lip color had made lovely.
She hadn’t known she could look like this. Hadn’t suspected. The stifling extreme that kept her every word and act under rigid control had also dictated her secret aversion to adopting any manner or look that could even remotely be interpreted as a challenge to Candice. It had meant no makeup, no stylish hairstyles, no feminine clothes. She’d smothered almost every natural desire or instinct that might have invited unpleasant comparisons. Or ridicule.
Wes had given her an excuse to indulge her long repressed instincts and she’d gone a little overboard. He now had a bride who wouldn’t shame him in front of a justice of the peace, but she could never go back to the Four C’s looking like this. After the ceremony, the fine clothing and makeup would come off. Everything she’d bought today would be neatly folded into a box or a bag and the magic would be hidden away in a closet in her bungalow on Four C’s. Because it was essential to keep their marriage secret, she doubted anyone but Wes Lansing would ever see her like this. She struggled against the private pain of that.
His bride was a Corbett. He’d kept that fact firmly in mind all afternoon and he’d watched her closely for any sign of perfidy. At first, he’d seen nothing but a reserved, aloof young woman. But the way her gaze frequently shied from his until she rarely looked his way, made him increasingly suspicious. What were her real motives for marriage?
Wes took this moment to study her as he looked through the open door into the suite’s bedroom. Unaware of him, Hallie stared into the cheval mirror in the corner. The unguarded play of emotion that crossed her face fascinated him. She searched her reflection as if she’d never seen it before. And maybe she hadn’t. He knew instantly that it wasn’t conceit that made her stare at herself, it was surprise. The chic female image in the glass bore no trace of the ranch hand he’d left Texas with.
He read her wistful, almost poignant expression and got a fresh glimpse into what her life had been like. Candice Corbett was a spoiled, selfish little witch. The shy, reclusive Hallie probably suffered enough from her cousin without calling attention to the fact that she was beautiful enough to put Candice in the shade if she’d ever half tried.
What kind of female was Halona Corbett? Why would she put up with the mistreatment of her family years past age eighteen when she could have left home and struck out on her own?
He’d seen the passion in her eyes when she’d said she’d not been able to stand by and do nothing to get Four C’s, and yet instinct told him she’d stayed for more than a ranch. Could she have been so undermined by her upbringing that she didn’t realize that she could go anywhere else and have a better life? Did she have so little self-confidence?
Or did she cling to the ideal of loyalty and duty to family? There was no way to equate family loyalty and duty with her choice to marry into the clan that took up the other side in a generations-long feud. Unless it was part of some new Corbett scheme. Could she be using him in some twisted way to earn her grandfather’s approval?
Halona Corbett was a mystery wrapped in an intriguing package. What had started that afternoon as a daring chance to reclaim the homestead had evolved into much more by nightfall. There was no denying that his instant attraction to her had made her offer of a bargain more compelling, and that his vigilance that day had made him even more aware of her as a woman.
In the end, he had to remember that she’d been raised on morals and values that changed to suit selfish whims. She was a woman who’d been taught from the cradle that dishonesty was permitted if it was carried out with cunning and style.
Which was why he’d insisted on the prenuptial agreement that secured the Lansing homestead and prevented her future claim to Red Thorn. If Hallie turned out to be no different than any other Corbett, he’d have something to take into court.
He stepped into the bedroom to get her attention. God help her if she went back on her word.
Hallie caught sight of Wes in the mirror and was ashamed to be caught looking at herself. Admiring the way she looked. A hot flush spread up her face to her hairline.
Wes was so ruggedly handsome in his severe black three-piece suit that her breath grew unsteady. He looked powerful and unabashedly male, and she felt a peculiar excitement. Something feminine in her had came to vibrant life and she suddenly craved an acknowledgment from him, some sign of male approval from a man so blatantly masculine that his nearness made her heart race.
Her gaze went to Wes’s as if drawn by a magnet. She saw the dark flicker of interest in his eyes, but then it vanished and left her with the sinking feeling that she’d imagined it. To conceal her disappointment, she glanced away from him, self-conscious. She turned from the glass and walked to the dresser where she’d left her handbag. She felt his gaze follow her every move.
Wes’s voice was carefully neutral. “Did you call the hospital?”
“Yes,” she answered quietly. “There’s no change.”
“Still want to go through with this?”
The question made her look over at him. She could tell nothing from his solemn expression. “Do you?”
Wes’s dark gaze narrowed on her face and she felt herself go tense. He was searching again, seeking. How on earth could she go through with a marriage to this man? She felt no more comfortable in his presence now than when she’d walked into his house that afternoon. Though they would never live under the same roof as man and wife, she wasn’t certain she could tolerate the pressure of his occasional presence or the confusion of emotion and sensation he made her feel.
“Some folks will believe you’re betraying blood to marry me.”
His grim words made her heart fall. The guilt that had nagged her all day suddenly blossomed. She thought of the ranch and what it meant to her, then she thought of her family and the cruel words that had driven her to this.
You’ve been a shame on this family since your mama brought you home to me, Hank had said. Bastard’s one thing, but I won’t let a misfit inherit Four C’s.
Her throat thickened with pain. There were only a handful of times in her life that her grandfather had ever spoken kindly to her. And those times he’d been manipulating her.
“Wouldn’t they believe the same of you?” she asked softly.
“They might. But the difference is, Hank raised you and he’s still alive. You owe him for taking you in.”
The familiar frustration began to rise. “He took in Candice, too. I don’t think you’d ask her about family loyalty.”
“I wouldn’t have to. Candice is so loyal to Hank that marrying me would be seen as a scheme to get Red Thorn.” His gaze suddenly sharpened on her face and his voice went dangerously soft.
“If you have anything else in mind but our bargain, any twisted notion that you’re putting me in a situation that Hank can exploit, you need to know that you’re the one who’ll suffer most. You mean nothing to me. Being my legal wife will matter even less.”
Hallie felt something in her heart quiver and shrink in on itself. He meant every word and she had no doubt that he’d be utterly ruthless with her. His judgment would be swift and sweeping. His retaliation would be brutal and calculated to devastate.
She could see that he was already so suspicious of her that one wrong word, one mistaken action could provoke him to act first and check the facts later. She would never think to conspire against him, but how easy would it be for Hank, if he lived long enough to find out, or Candice, to make it look as though she had?
Emotion roared up and sent a stinging fullness into her eyes. She’d been so desperate to get the ranch that she’d blinded herself to the very personal peril Wes Lansing represented. To have him state it so starkly made her feel foolish and hopelessly naive.
She was standing between two ruthless men who placed no value on her above making her a handy target for their displeasure. And perhaps she deserved it for putting herself in range when she was too powerless to fight either of them and win.
Hallie gripped her handbag, then looked away from him before the telling blur in her eyes could spill over and shame her. She set the handbag on the dresser, then reached up to find the hat pin that secured her hat to the mound of locks arranged so artfully atop her head. She must look as ridiculous and pretentious to him as she felt.
She removed the pin and pulled off the hat. Her fingers were trembling as she pushed the pin into the crown to safely anchor it. She managed to keep her voice clear and steady.
“I’ll reimburse you for the plane tickets, the room—everything. If you’ll put a dollar value on your time, I’ll pay you for that, too. I’d appreciate if you kept this confidential.” She paused. “I realize I can’t stop you if you choose to make it public.”
“So this was a setup.” His voice had a deadly edge to it.
Hallie made herself look over at him. His rugged face was the picture of suppressed fury.
“It wasn’t. But you’ve just made me realize how easily I could be set up if my family finds out. I’ve survived my life so far, Mr. Lansing,” she said, then leveled what she considered the ultimate insult. “I won’t put myself at the mercy of a man no better than my grandfather.”
Bad temper blazed in his dark eyes, but Hallie turned away to gently set the stylish hat on the dresser. She held herself with the same stiff dignity that she relied on to maintain her composure, but she wasn’t certain it would save her this time. Her insides were boiling with humiliation and her face felt on fire. It didn’t help that her legs felt heavy and her knees were weak. She’d lost her chance.
But now that she had, she forced herself to focus on the thought that this was the beginning of her new life. There would be no Hank Corbetts in it and no Wes Lansings. She’d never have Four C’s, but she wouldn’t have to take the terrible risk of marrying a stranger—a family enemy—to get it.
The moment Wes stepped out of the room, she could close the door and shut him out. She could recover in the privacy and solitude that were so dismally familiar to her. He would leave the suite, but she could stay here. Maybe she’d stay the night. She’d be paying for it. She always paid.
Wes’s voice was low and rough. “We’re strangers to each other, Miz Corbett.”
Hallie glanced warily at him and tried to read his stern expression. His face was far less harsh now, and the dark fire in his eyes had faded.
“If I’ve misjudged you, I apologize.”
She looked at him gravely. “I’m not smart enough or brave enough to be part of any scheme against you that I’m aware of. If my grandfather is manipulating either of us beyond what is obvious in that Will, I’m not a party to it. Nor would I be.”
He stared at her for long moments and again, it seemed as if all the intensity he was capable of was focused on her. Those moments were almost unbearable, but she tolerated them. He was weighing her by her words, measuring what he could see in her to make up his mind. It felt as if he were examining every atom and circuit in her brain.
It was rare to meet someone who mistrusted her almost as deeply as she mistrusted others. Strangely, it made her feel less guarded, less threatened to know that someone as powerful as Wes Lansing thought she might have the potential to injure him somehow. At last, he spoke.
“If we marry, your loyalty belongs to me.”
His demand didn’t really surprise her, but she felt a prickle of anger. “What about your loyalty, Lansing? Will it belong to me?”
The firm line of his mouth went stern. He must not have expected that. And he didn’t appear happy about it, either. He wasn’t accustomed to giving an inch to anyone, and it probably rankled to contemplate the notion.
“Because if we marry,” she went on, “I think that entitles both of us to equal expectations. If you expect loyalty from me, I expect just as much from you. The fact that the marriage is secret makes no difference.”
He gave her a narrow look that hinted he was reassessing her in some way. He confirmed the impression with his next words.
“You’re a surprise.” His dark gaze released hers to move slowly down the length of her. The bold stroke sent a warm shiver through her. His gaze returned to hers and she struggled to appear unaffected. “I’m not sure yet if I like it.”
Hallie had no reply to that so she kept silent, enduring the tension between them while she fought to withstand it.
“I do like the hat,” he said finally. “If you’ll marry me, I’d like to see you wear it.”
His low words sent a poignant ache through her. However small a remark it was, whether he’d meant it to be or not, it was somehow a validation of the pains she’d taken to look like a bride.
“If you’re sure.” Her voice had choked to a whisper and she cringed inwardly. She hated that she’d revealed that much.
Wes slipped a finger into the vest pocket of his black suit and stepped toward her. Her breath caught as he reached for her left hand and lifted it between them.
She was so surprised that she almost stepped back, but just that quickly, he lightly singled out her ring finger and slid on a diamond ring. A whirl of sensation spiraled through her. His big fingers tightened gently on her hand as she stared down at it in disbelief.
The diamond sparkled and the gold band it was mounted on caught the suite lights. It fit perfectly.
A huge swell of emotion surged up and left her shaken. She hadn’t thought about rings. Theirs wasn’t a true marriage where rings were called for to signify unending love and eternal commitment.
“I can’t wear this,” she whispered. She couldn’t wear the beautiful engagement ring, she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t take her eyes from it. And she couldn’t keep her heart from breaking over the gesture. “Please…take it off.”
“It’s tradition.”
“This isn’t a real marriage. It’s enough of a sacrilege to marry for—for the reasons we are,” she got out hastily.
His fingers tightened gently, prompting her to look up at him. “Does it bother you to marry to get a piece of land?”
She couldn’t bear the new sharpness in his dark eyes and her gaze fled his as she gave a small nod. She pulled her hand from his and immediately took hold of the ring to take it off. “Of course it bothers me.”
He caught her hands before she could remove the ring.
“It’ll be public knowledge when he dies and it comes out that you fulfilled the Will’s requirements.”
Hallie looked up at him urgently. “But he can’t find out before he…” Suddenly she couldn’t say the word.
Wes’s dark brows lowered in disapproval. “I’m not much for secrets. He knows he threw down the gauntlet with that Will. If he lives, how long do you think you can keep your marriage from him? How good an actress will you have to be to quiet his suspicions?” He paused and his voice lowered. “How many lies are you capable of telling to keep him from changing the Will?”
Hallie managed to pull her hands from the steely warmth of his. The tingly heat they generated had added a distressing dimension to his disturbing words.
“Then going through with the marriage is futile.”
“We knew that was the risk. We decided to marry because it’s worth taking a chance.” His stern mouth gentled and one corner turned up in a half smile. “And we came to take our chance in a city known for high-stakes gambling and quick marriages.”
Hallie looked away. Everything had seemed so simple hours ago. She’d been so hurt, so angry and torn up over the cruelty of Hank’s will that she hadn’t completely considered the full consequences of this rash act.
“If Hank lingers and it comes out,” he went on, “there are certain marriage traditions I want people to know we observed. Rings are one.”
“Everyone will know it wasn’t a traditional marriage,” she said quietly. “And it will be annulled right away.”
She’d have enough to live down over the annulment. She didn’t want to give anyone the impression that she’d had any sort of hope for a real future with Wes.
She shook her head. “The ring is too symbolic.” Again she started to take off the beautiful ring, but his hands again caught hers.
“Then don’t wear it at home,” he said sternly. “But you’ll wear it here. And the wedding band that goes with it.”
Hallie looked up at him, about to protest, but he cut her off.
“It’s getting late. If we’re going to do this, we’ve got to get it done. I made plans for ten o’clock, and it’s nine-thirty now.”
Her throat spasmed closed in alarm. They’d delayed long enough. The longer the delay, the more reservations she had about going through with it. In the end, it was the craving to inherit Four C’s that made her force away her growing misgivings and give a small, stiff nod.
“All right.”
As if those strangled words were the pistol shot that started a race, her heart burst into a panicked rhythm. Wes stood nearby while she got the hat and pinned it on with fingers that seemed abnormally clumsy. Then he whisked her out of the suite so quickly that he made her head spin.
Did Wes realize he was torturing her?
Hallie had trouble meeting the minister’s eyes. She was excruciatingly aware that Wes had not taken her to one of the many wedding chapels in Las Vegas; he’d taken her to a real church, with an ordained minister.
The church was large and a sacred atmosphere permeated every inch of it, including the small prayer chapel they were standing in. This was no secular ceremony before a justice of the peace or one in a commercial chapel where a lineup of brides and grooms waited to be married. This was a real church, and there was no way to ignore the fact that they were pledging vows before God.
She hadn’t voiced her objections to Wes. She’d been uneasy when they’d arrived at the church, but as they followed the minister who’d met them at door and led them to the chapel, her unease had increased with each step.
Now the minister had started the ceremony and the significance of what they were doing pressed down on her. Marriage vows were supposed to be a solemn pledge of love and marital commitment, which were as much a vow to God as to each other. She was secretly marrying to secure an inheritance for what amounted to financial gain, and the guilt of that made every word the minister said weigh a thousand pounds.
“And do you, Halona Corbett, take Wes Lansing as your lawfully wedded husband, to love him and care for him, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?”
Her throat closed and she couldn’t speak. The silence stretched. The minister waited patiently, his kind eyes regarding her with a gentleness that somehow pierced her guilt and sent a tiny trickle of peace into her heart.
Something hopeful began to make itself felt. It was then that she realized what that hope was: she hoped Wes would find something about her he could love.
For a woman who’d known little love and, until that moment, had no real expectations to find it, she was astonished to realize how deep the craving to love and be loved went. Surely she wasn’t foolish enough to open her heart to the possibility of love with a stranger when her own family had found it impossible to love her?
When she finally got out the words, “I do,” she realized with secret horror that she wanted to make true every word she’d just pledged, that somehow her heart had staked its survival on the impossible hope that Wes might someday want to honor his vows to her.
Suddenly she was trembling and she felt faint. She couldn’t keep from looking up at Wes as the minister read his part of the vows. Wes’s dark eyes were somber as he stared down into hers. His voice was a quiet rasp as he said, “I do.”
Their gazes clung. The utter seriousness of the vows seemed to have affected them both. Hallie couldn’t break contact with his gaze. Her heart beat so swiftly and so hard that she felt it bruise her chest.
The minister’s voice was pleasant and cheerful. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Mr. Lansing.”
Hallie heard the words then stared in disbelief as Wes leaned closer and his dark head descended. He was going to kiss her! She was too shocked and too mesmerized by the idea to move.
His lips were firm and warm as they settled on hers. She started to jerk back from the contact, but suddenly his hand slipped behind her neck and she couldn’t retreat. Panic made her go rigid, but in that next heartbeat of time, the lightning bolt of feeling that went through her turned her bones to mush and her eyes fell shut. If his other hand hadn’t slipped around her waist to hold her up, her knees would have given out.
When he withdrew, she opened dazed eyes to see the dark fire in his. Male knowledge blazed arrogantly in their depths, and she knew without a doubt that with one brief kiss, he could tell that not only had she never known a hint of sexual intimacy, she’d also never been kissed. But then she caught a glint of suspicion, as if he suddenly mistrusted her.
It was all she could do to wait for the minister’s final blessing and they signed the wedding license. The two female employees from the church office who’d witnessed the ceremony hugged her.
By the time they walked out of the church and down the front steps to a waiting cab, Hallie was queasy and her head was starting to pound.
They ate supper in a quiet restaurant and barely spoke to each other. The mood between them was somber. Hallie was certain she wouldn’t be able to eat, but once she had a bite of the tender steak Wes ordered for her, her appetite came back with a vengeance. The meal helped soothe her nerves and her headache vanished. They were leaning back with the wine that he’d insisted they have when Wes spoke.
“I should have called for room service when we first got to the hotel. I didn’t mean to make you wait so late to eat.”
Hallie looked over at him. The apology warmed her and made her feel as if he cared for her at least a little. But it was dangerous to think that way.
His gaze dropped to her lips and the flash of intensity in his dark eyes reminded her of the kiss in the chapel. Longing gripped her and she glanced down at her wineglass to hide it.
Would she ever have a chance to feel the expert pressure of his lips on hers again, to feel that heat, to be caught in the wild, sweet storm of feeling that had gone through her?
Something wounded in her warned that she’d had her taste, that she was only allotted one; but the part of her that was unbearably lonely and lost craved another chance and refused to stop hoping.
To her utter humiliation, her thoughts must have shown, because Wes remarked, “I didn’t intend for the ceremony to seem so…binding. But the other kind didn’t seem right.”
There it was. The admission that the church ceremony had given an impression he hadn’t intended. The foolish little hope that had made itself felt in the chapel died a swift death. She quickly finished her wine and made herself look over at him.
“Would you…mind?” She pushed the wineglass toward him and he obliged her by refilling it. She had another glass before they left the restaurant to go back to their hotel.
The cab ride was silent. Hallie took off the hat and leaned her head back against the seat to quietly watch the millions of casino lights glitter and flash past her window. The wine had relaxed her, but she felt more subdued than usual.
The sidewalks were crowded with gamblers and vacationers eager for the nightlife of Las Vegas. The whole town was light and energy and excitement, but none of it touched her.
If the circumstances of their visit hadn’t been so serious, she might have enjoyed going into a casino, maybe trying her luck at a game of chance, to at least see what the attraction was. But the knowledge that she’d just married a man to get a ranch, and that, in essence, she was betting her grandfather would die before he found out, made her feel heartless and mercenary.
It didn’t matter to her conscience that Hank had barely tolerated her, that there were times when he’d been unbearably cruel. He was her grandfather. Whether that had ever meant anything to him or not, it had meant something to her. Which was why his treatment of her all these years had so wounded her, and had possibly influenced this disloyal act.
They arrived back at their hotel. Wes paid the driver and they got out to walk into the hotel and cross the lobby to the elevators. When one arrived, they stood aside as the passengers got off.
The last three passengers who stepped out were older women. One of them glanced at Wes and gave a startled look.
“Why, Wes Lansing. What a surprise! And—” she looked at Hallie with great interest “—who’s this lovely young woman?”
In the next second, the woman’s gaze dropped to the hat that Hallie carried in her left hand, and her face showed fresh surprise as she eyed the rings.
“My goodness, Wes, is this your bride?”

CHAPTER THREE
HALLIE stood next to Wes as the elevator glided upward. She fidgeted with the hat, so distressed she could barely stand still. Because they were alone, Wes spoke.
“Edna Murray is the biggest gossip in our part of Texas. She might not wait to get home to report this.”
Hallie felt sick. Edna Murray was her punishment for taking vows in church that she knew she’d have to break. Now there was no hope of keeping their marriage secret until her grandfather passed away. Edna’s almost giddy, So, this is the end of the feud—how romantic! haunted her.
The moment they reached their floor and the doors opened, Hallie rushed out. She got to their room several steps ahead of Wes, then had to wait for him to open the door. When he did, she started to go in, but he caught her arm. Her gaze flew to his.
“Just a minute.”
Before she realized what he intended, he leaned toward her, then swept her off her feet into his arms. She immediately tried to wiggle out of his hold.
Though Hallie was strong for her lithe size, Wes’s easy strength made her feel fragile when he flexed his arms and held her firmly. He carried her over the threshold into their suite, then set her on her feet. Hallie stepped away from him as if she’d been burned.
“Why did you do that?” She couldn’t take her eyes from his stern expression as she searched it for a clue to why he’d carried her in.
“Now that we can’t hope to keep this marriage secret, we need to think about observing the traditions people expect.”
Hallie shook her head. “No one could have seen what you just did.”
Wes walked to the cabinet that concealed a small bar and opened the door. “They’ll see whether or not we live together on Red Thorn.”
Hallie stared as a new horror presented itself. “I can’t live with you.”
He glanced her way and his dark gaze went over her from head to foot before returning to her face.
“How much pride have you got, Mrs. Lansing?
He looked back to the cabinet and began to twist open the caps of four small bottles of whiskey, which he divided into two stout tumblers as he went on.
“Now that we’ve been found out, do you want people to know this was a cold-blooded marriage of convenience to thwart your grandfather? Or would you rather they think it’s an impetuous marriage that somewhere down the line doesn’t work out?”
Hallie stood stiffly as she stared at him in shock. He picked up the tumblers and carried them to her. She set her hat and handbag on the sofa table, then took the glass he pressed into her shaking hand.
“Maybe you should sit down before you drink that.”
She ignored the suggestion and hastily had a sip, then choked on the stinging liquid. Wes calmly watched her and had a taste of his own.
“If Hank doesn’t last long enough to find out, I vote for letting people think what they choose, since we’ll both have what we married to get. That’ll come out right away when the will is read. Most folks have a poor opinion of Hank Corbett. When they find out about what he did to you with that Will, they’ll understand.”
Hallie’s voice was still raspy from the harsh liquor. “And if he lives long enough to find out?”
“Then, since he’d probably write you out of the will completely, I favor the look of a real marriage.”
Her quiet, “So that’s why you asked about pride,” was barely audible. The way she said the word was no endorsement of it.
“I’m not eager to be seen as a man who married a woman to get land, then cast her off the moment he found out she couldn’t give it to him. So we’ll give the look of a real marriage. Starting now.”
“Maybe I don’t care what people think.” She had another quick sip of whiskey. It didn’t sting so much this time.
“I think you do care. A lot. Why else have you kept yourself hidden away on Four C’s all this time if you weren’t afraid to find out what people think of you? And then there’s your charming cousin Candice.”
His perception was painful, and she turned away with her drink. She was so rattled that she downed the rest of the whiskey and stood gripping the glass in both hands. “What makes you think you know so much?”
“Because if it wasn’t true, you’d tell me so straight out. Instead, you challenged me.”
The impression she got—that he could read her mind—made her feel exposed and vulnerable. At first, she thought it was panic that made her suddenly feel dizzy. But in the next second, she realized that the whiskey she’d downed so fast was already making itself felt.
“I’m afraid…of a lot of things,” she found herself admitting.
The terrible craving to let someone know her—the hope that she might reveal herself to another person and be liked—was suddenly close to the surface. And it was stronger with Wes than with anyone she’d ever met in her life. It terrified her to wonder what that meant.
The memory of the somber little ceremony in the chapel came back to her. Something had happened when she’d made that vow. Somehow, some way, her heart had reached for something it needed and grabbed on hard.
“I’ve made a terrible mistake.” Her voice trembled on the word. She’d not only lost her chance, she’d exposed the needs and desires and desperate hopes that she’d hidden from herself and everyone else all her life. These few hours with Wes had done that, and she was suddenly overwhelmed by it all.
The next thing she knew, Wes had moved beside her and was taking the empty glass from her hands. He set it on the sofa table along with his own. He took her arm and started to lead her to a chair.
“You need to sit down.”
The warm sensuality that bloomed at his touch spread through her like syrup. She pulled away, but stepped wrong on the narrow heel of her shoe and faltered. Wes caught her arm to steady her. She braced a hand on his chest, then jerked it away, dismayed by the hard warmth beneath her palm.
“I need to go to bed,” she got out, but when she tried to pull from him again, another bout of dizziness made her awkward.
“Maybe you do.” And then he was leading her to her bedroom, his easy strength leaving her no choice but to let him have his way.
She managed to pull free once they were in the bedroom and he got her to the bed. She was so anxious to escape his warm grip—to escape her reaction to it—that she took a wary step away. The edge of the mattress brushed the backs of her legs and brought her to a halt.
“You can sleep alone tonight,” he said, “but that’ll have to change when we get back to Texas.”
“I don’t like that you’re…taking over.” The words came out in an uneven rush. Her eyes felt abnormally round as she looked up into his stern expression to watch for any signal that he might touch her again. His dark gaze narrowed on her.

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