To Tame a Bride
Knowing she had to be polite if she had any hope of persuading him to fly her to Colorado, she forced another smile that felt as twitchy and unnatural as the other one had. “Pardon me, Mr. Coryell. I didn’t expect you to slow down so... abruptly.”
Her apology automatically implied that he was in the wrong for stopping, which he was. But he didn’t take blame well. She could tell by the hardening of his firm jaw.
Compelled to recover from her faux pas, she was forced to add, “I wasn’t watching where I was going for a moment.” She hesitated, giving herself a moment to conceal her aversion to apologizing twice. “Pardon me.”
She hadn’t realized how tall and broad-shouldered Lincoln Coryell was until she was standing two feet in front of him. The top of her head barely came to his shoulder. The mirrored lenses of his sunglasses were aimed down at her, and seeing twin reflections of herself made her feel even smaller.
That she also felt more fragile and feminine than she’d ever felt in her life was a small shock. But then, she’d just run into his hard body, and the impression of his solid masculinity was still quaking through her.
He didn’t speak, just stared down at her from his superior height as if neither of her apologies had been enough. Frustrated by his taciturn manner and uncertain how to deal effectively with him, she took advantage of his undivided attention.
“I have a very serious reason to get to Colorado—to Aspen—by tonight, Mr. Coryell.” Stung when he still didn’t respond, she gritted her teeth and made herself go on. “It’s not quite life or death, but close. I’m willing to pay you for your time and inconvenience—double the fare the other pilot asked.”
Finally, he reacted. But the cynical slant of his handsome mouth was insultingly superior. No one looked down their nose at Madison St. John, yet the impression she had that Lincoln Coryell was doing just that jolted her.
“I don’t hire out, Miz St. John.” With that, he turned and walked away.
Maddie’s frustration spiked so high that she felt dizzy with it. She had to get to Colorado. Though she could drive to San Antonio and try to catch a flight from there, she had no guarantee of success. Lincoln Coryell was flying to Colorado now. Besides, she’d compromised her dignity too far with him to take no for an answer. His resistance to her—though she was straining to be pleasant to him—was offensive. Demeaning .
The picture that flashed in her mind—of her mother’s reaction when she finally set eyes on the ugly duckling daughter who’d grown into a swan—sharpened her determination.
Perhaps Roz would regret the years of neglect. A secret part of Madison’s heart hoped her mother would be sorry for abandoning her, but without Lincoln Coryell’s help, it might never happen. If she didn’t get to Colorado today or by afternoon tomorrow, God only knew when—or if—her mother would contact her again.
She started after him, forced to set an unladylike pace to catch up.
“Mr. Coryell!” The hint of ire that simmered beneath her soft tone had worked with scores of others. In the end, she knew of only one sure way to assert her will over his and make him take her to Colorado. “As I said, it’s very important that I get to Aspen by tonight,” she insisted as she caught up and fell into step beside him.
Linc’s long strides didn’t alter. “So you said,” he drawled. “Not quite life or death, but close,” he quoted as they reached his small plane. He stopped and tossed his duffel bag out of the way near the tail of the aircraft, then turned toward her. The mirrored sunglasses flashed down at her and again framed her image.
“But not close enough to life or death for you to consider using a word as ordinary and humbling as the word please.”
Linc watched Maddie’s lips part, saw the spasm of shock in her eyes that blanked the arrogance from her stiff expression. Clearly, words like “please” and maybe even “thank you” weren’t a regular part of her vocabulary.
He stared down at her frozen expression, a little surprised at himself for giving her even a small chance to wreck what had started out to be a good day.
On the other hand, there was something challenging about a gorgeous, sharp-tongued shrew who intimidated the hell out of most men. Normally, he wanted no part of a female as self-centered and highmaintenance as Maddie St. John. Her flawless appearance hinted at excessive vanity, and it was an easy bet that she’d never warmed enough to any man to tolerate getting a little disheveled.
What would it take to get a woman like her to mellow? Was her legendary bitchiness born of meanness, or had she spoiled and overindulged herself on her inheritance? Was there any real passion behind her cool, blond beauty, or was she an ice cube through and through?
Her father and mother had abandoned her to a grandmother who’d bullied her mercilessly. Line knew she hadn’t had an easy life. He hadn’t either, but he’d overcome it and made several fortunes by seeing the potential in losing propositions and by taking big risks.
And for all her stunning beauty and wealth, Madison St. John was a losing proposition. Maybe there wasn’t anything about her worth having, but if there was, it might be entertaining to find it. The only thing he’d truly risk was a few hours cooped up with her in a small plane.
Still, he’d leave her right there on the tarmac if she couldn’t lower her haughty attitude far enough to frame a proper request that included the word “please.” She’d had so much trouble with “pardon me” that “please” might be more than she could handle.
He waited as the seconds stretched, watched as the flush in her cheeks darkened and rose higher. Just when he was about to grab his gear and stow it in the plane, her gaze wavered and fell from his.
He saw her chin lift slightly in defiance of the small defeat. She didn’t look him in the eye; probably afraid she’d see a hint of triumph. If the situation were reversed and she’d been the one who’d got the upper hand, it was a sure bet he would have seen triumph in hers.
“It’s very important that I get to Aspen by tonight, Mr. Coryell.” The careful words and her neutral tone were obviously straining her. “Would...would you please consider allowing me to fly to Colorado with you?”
The way she’d looked when she said the words—as if she’d just been forced to consent to the most hideous, immoral act in the history of man—startled a chuckle out of him.
Those blue, blue eyes leaped to make the connection with his, and he saw the conflagration that burst up in their vivid depths. She was furious, but to her credit, she didn’t turn it loose on him. Instead, she pressed her lips together so tightly that they were little more than a colorless seam.
“Go get your luggage and haul it over by mine while I do my preflight.”
The new flash of outrage in her eyes told him the order had heaped a new indignity on her injured pride. He hadn’t used the word “please” himself, but he’d meant to leave it out. He could tell she knew it.
Her face flushed with the temper they both knew she didn’t dare vent on him, Madison turned and stalked back to the collection of monogrammed luggage near the hangar. Line spared a few moments to watch her go, admiring the faint sway of hips that her rigid stride didn’t quite repress.
CHAPTER TWO
MADISON SAT STIFFLY beside him, her posture so straight that it should have snapped her spine. Her hauteur amused him. Madison St. John was too full of herself; money had ruined the sweet kid she’d been. She was living proof that it wasn’t healthy to get everything you wanted. A body had to have something meaningful to look forward to, some reason to dream.
He thought again about how much she’d changed. Madison and her cousin, Caitlin Bodine, had been close once. But as far as he knew, they hadn’t spoken to each other for years. It was no secret that Madison blamed Caitlin for the death of the boy she’d been in love with in high school.
Beau Duvall had been a rounder, spoiled by his mother and stepfather, and destined for trouble, but shy, plain little Maddie had been crazy about him. When Beau was killed, she’d been devastated and, like everyone else, she’d blamed Caitlin.
It was only in the past few months, after Caitlin had returned to Texas, that the whole truth about Beau’s death had been made public. Caitlin had not only been accepted back into everyone’s good graces, she’d married Beau Duvall’s older brother, Reno. Madison was the only person who couldn’t accept what had really happened when Beau was killed.
Her reason for being the only holdout was probably nothing he’d ever know. He’d rarely had personal contact with her. The moment they got to Colorado and went their separate ways, he wouldn’t have cause to have contact with her again. Though they both lived in the same part of Texas and were both wealthy, their lifestyles were too different for anything more than a distant acquaintance.
Madison couldn’t relax. Her choler had faded, displaced by the agonizing fear she had of small planes. Because she confided in no one these days, no one would ever guess the magnitude of what she was willing to go through to see her mother.
The large Cessna seemed so cramped and fragile. It bumped and wallowed over every little pocket of air. The constant motion made her queasy, and the longer they flew, the heavier the queasiness became. Hours into the flight, she was so nauseous that she could barely sit upright. She’d wilted back against the seat, so miserable she was shaking.
“Your face is a pretty shade of green, Miz St. John.”
Linc’s calm observation gave her a vicious start.
“You need a bucket?”
The crude question put a sickening image in her mind. Grappling for the distraction of sarcasm, she said through gritted teeth, “Your lap should do well enough, Mr. Coryell.”
The sudden dip of the plane almost pushed her queasy stomach over the edge. She squeezed her eyes closed and panted sickly as the plane began to descend. She was aware of Linc reaching for the radio mike, but she couldn’t follow what he said into it.
Her attention had fixed on the low, calm sound of his voice. The unexpected comfort of his masculine drawl slid along her ragged nerves and steadied them somehow. The strange reaction set off a small shock wave that made her turn her head weakly against the seat back to look at him.
Lincoln Coryell was handsome, ruggedly so. His broad-shouldered, six-foot-four frame seemed to fill the cabin of the small plane, making it seem even more crowded. His arm and side were inches away, but she felt the heat of him from where she sat. Pleasant heat. Male heat.
The pang of guilt she felt surprised her until she let herself acknowledge its source.
Beau Duvall. She’d loved Beau deeply. She still loved him. He’d been handsome, so beautifully handsome. Love of life had blazed so painfully bright in his blue eyes, in his tanned face, in everything he said and did and wanted in life. He’d been so much fun, teasing, irreverent and daring.
Maddie had been so repressed, so unloved, so unlovely back then that when such a handsome, vitally alive and exciting young man had paid the slightest attention to her, she’d fallen wildly and hopelessly in love, dismally aware that handsome Beau Duvall could never love her.
But then he had. The miracle of it still awed her, still gave her hungry heart some vital bit of sustenance, though Beau was long dead now. Beau’s affection for her had been like a fairy tale come true. He’d made her feel wanted, special; he’d made her feel beautiful, somehow bringing about her astonishing transformation from duckling to swan...
Line turned his head to look at her. Though she was remembering Beau, she’d been staring at Line. He said something and her blurry gaze fell to his lips. They were so well-defined, with a masculine sort of ruthlessness that made her heart flutter lightly despite her misery.
Linc’s face was tanned and harshly chiseled, but brutally attractive in the way of rugged Western men who spent their days in the elements working with dangerous animals.
Dangerous. Yes, she realized, her mind still fuzzy. Dangerous was the word for the way Lincoln Coryell looked. Tough was also part of the package, but he was one hundred percent domineering Texas male, from the crown of his Stetson to the underslung heels of his Western boots.
Nothing at all like the much less harsh, far more gentle and sweet Beau. Never like Beau.
So why this peculiar stirring with Line, why this sudden fascination with a man too hard-edged and blatantly male for her refined tastes?
Madison turned her head so she wouldn’t have to look at him. She felt so horribly ill. Surely these wild impressions and startling reactions were part of being in such utter physical misery.
The abrupt jolt of the small plane setting down made her jerk with surprise. Relief flooded her as she realized they’d landed, and Line was taxiing off the runway to the tarmac next to a hangar. Her head was still swimming after he brought the plane to a halt and switched off the engine. She was so nauseous that she didn’t dare move. Her eyelids sagged closed as she waited for her stomach to settle.
“Did you eat something today?”
The gruff question sent a sting of irritation across her jittery nerves. The nausea surged up for a moment before it began to recede.
Her soft, “Of course,” was a lie. Admitting that she’d been too nervous to eat would reveal a weakness to him that she considered far worse than being airsick.
“You can get a sandwich at the café over there. I’ll meet you when the plane’s refueled.”
Maddie didn’t respond until he touched her arm. The earthquake he set off shook her. She roused herself and sat up straighter.
“Come on, Princess. Let’s get you outta here.”
The gruff words were her only warning before she found herself forcibly ejected from her seat. Panicked, she grabbed her handbag and tried to get out of the plane under her own power. But her arms and legs were clumsy, and her head was whirling.
Linc took over as if she weighed no more than an awkward piece of luggage. He was like some gigantic warm wave, sweeping her small body along ahead of his until he set her on her feet behind the plane’s wing.
The bones in her legs were as substantial as cooked noodles, and she swayed against him, clinging to his lean waist as best she could while she tried to recover her strength. The feel of Linc’s hard, well-defined masculinity sobered her, but a new kind of weakness spread through her and slowed her recovery.
“Should I get out the smelling salts...or are you makin’ a pass at me?”
It took a moment for Linc’s drawled words to penetrate.
Or are you makin’ a pass at me? The idea appalled her. It was amazing how suddenly her legs steadied and she was able to push him away.
“God forbid.” The caustic words slipped out before she considered how sharply they might land on a male ego. Most male egos were pathetically fragile. Normally, she didn’t care whether she trampled one or not, but she needed Linc’s goodwill.
Her gaze shot up to gauge his reaction, but his sunglasses blocked the sight. What she could see of his face indicated total immunity to the jab.
Of course. A man who’d achieved as much wealth and power as Lincoln Coryell couldn’t have a fragile ego. Pride maybe. Excessive pride. But there was nothing fragile about the tower of masculinity before her.
“Order me some coffee while you’re at it,” he said, then turned and walked toward the hangar without a backward glance.
Madison managed to eat a good portion of the salad and dry toast she’d ordered before Linc joined her at the café. After little more than an hour on the ground, they were taking off. Madison felt worlds better, but she couldn’t get over her nervousness in the small plane. Though she didn’t feel much safer in an airliner, small planes always gave her. the sensation of hurtling through space in a soda can.
She and Linc didn’t speak, and eventually she dozed as the stress of the day caught up with her and the drone of the engine lulled her to sleep.
It was the odd sound of the engine that woke her later. At first, she thought they were landing. But the staccato sound of an engine failing and the irregular vibration that shook the plane registered. Terror brought her fully awake. She jerked her head in Linc’s direction.
“What’s wrong?” Linc’s sunglasses were off and his lean jaw was clenched so hard that she knew the answer before he spoke.
“Tighten that seat belt and hang on.”
The grim order made her face forward to see out the windshield. Mountains. They were over the Rockies. The deep, heavy green of forest that mantled everything below the highest peaks and seemed to fill every valley between was breathtaking. The realization that they were about to fall into all those trees—and would probably be killed in a fiery crash—was so vivid suddenly that she couldn’t breathe. Every wild beat of her heart thundered in her ears as she watched the mountains and all that green come closer and closer.
Her body went so rigid with tension that she was in literal pain. Terror left her dry-mouthed and mute. But when the plane suddenly lurched to the left, her stomach lurched with it and startled a gurgling shriek out of her.
Her shock-rounded eyes flew to Linc and she saw him grappling with the controls. It took her a moment to register the fact that he’d turned the plane on purpose. Though it was out of control, he’d managed to force it to do something.
“What are you doing?” Her demand didn’t convey any of her insight, but it was as close as she dared to the question she really wanted to have answered: Are we going to die?
A cowardice she’d never suspected of herself gripped her insides. They were about to die and she wasn’t ready!
The plane dipped crazily and suddenly she could see the treetops loom so close she felt as if she could put out her hand and touch them. She could see the individual leaves on the branches and instinctively pressed her feet against the floor in an irrational attempt to push herself higher.
“Cover your face!”
Madison was too frozen to move. The last thing she glimpsed before the nose of the plane came up and blocked her view was a space of open meadow.
And then the terrible sound of treetops scraping metal filled the plane. She leaned forward and covered her face with her arms. She must have fainted then because she never felt the crash.
Linc wiped impatiently at the trickle of sweat that slid down between his eyebrows, not surprised that his fingers came away bloody. His head hurt like hell, but he was alive. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious, but it couldn’t have been long. The sun—what he could tell about its position with trees blocking its light—hadn’t moved too far. But he’d been out long enough that the smell of leaking fuel was strong.
He glanced over at his passenger. Maddie finally looked disheveled. Her chin rested on her chest, and she looked as limp as a rag doll. She didn’t seem to have a mark on her, so he reached over to touch her arm and give her a small shake. She stirred then, lifted her head, and let out a small moan.
Madison felt as if every joint in her body had been dislocated. Consciousness ebbed back and with it the memory of falling through the trees. She jerked fully awake and glanced around wildly. Outside the missing windows of the cockpit, tree trunks and branches were everywhere. The tip of a branch had speared through a window space far enough that it was only six inches from her face.
“You all right?” The brusque question startled her, but when she turned her head to look over at Linc, her neck was stiff with pain. The terror and disorientation she felt eased at the comforting sight of him.
He was no longer wearing his Stetson. A cut near his hairline glistened with blood, but other than the cut, he looked as rugged and domineering as ever. His skin was a little gray beneath his tan, but he looked wonderfully, gloriously unharmed.
He gave her arm a small shake that made her aware he was speaking to her. “Are you all right?”
The question sounded a little kinder this time, and for some reason, her eyes began to smart with tears. Appalled, she forced them back and focused on mentally checking herself for injuries. Other than a stiff neck and a body that ached everywhere, she felt remarkably unharmed.
The realization that she was alive sent a gust of pure euphoria through her. “I seem to be...fine.”
Linc didn’t look as euphoric as she felt. In fact, his expression was so grim that she felt a surge of anxiety.
“Then we’d better get out. Carefully,” he added, “since we’ve got a fuel leak.”
Madison smelled it now, and it was strong. She automatically reached for her handbag, then had to rummage on the floor for it. Thankfully, it had been securely zipped so its contents hadn’t been scattered.
Linc bustled her out of the plane as quickly and forcefully as he had at the airport, but they had to fight their way through the broken branches and underbrush that jammed the space around the right wing.
Once they were on the ground, Madison stumbled through the brush, using her handbag to cover her face until they were past the tail of the plane. The meadow she’d glimpsed before the crash was just a few feet away.
Line had obviously not had enough room to land before he ran out of clearing and smashed into the trees. When Madison turned and saw that the nose and body of the plane had speared neatly into a narrow gap between the tree trunks, she couldn’t help being impressed with his aim.
But because the plane had gone into the trees, the crash wouldn’t be easy to spot from the sky. It dawned on her that the hidden crash made it next to impossible for a quick rescue. Linc’s next words confirmed it.
“I’ll get as much gear and luggage as I can. When I throw it out, drag it to the clearing.”
Madison glanced toward the meadow, then back at the plane. The smell of fuel was still strong. “W-will it blow up?”
Linc ignored her question and started toward the wreck. She seized his arm and held him back, terrified of an explosion.
“We need what’s in the plane, if we can get it.”
Madison let go of his arm. Of course they needed what was in the plane. The clothing she’d brought, her makeup and toiletries, were necessities. But not if the plane was about to explode.
She was terrified again, this time for Linc. If the plane blew up, he’d be killed or seriously injured, and they were too far from help. All she’d seen from the air had been miles of trees and mountains. Anxious for Linc’s safety, Madison followed, but hovered a safe distance from the wreck.
The first things Linc tossed her way must have been his. A packaged blanket, a rope, a bundled piece of plastic, and his duffel bag. Finally, he got to her luggage and hefted out her small suitcase to send it tumbling toward her. She winced when it hit the ground sharply. Panicked, she grabbed it and gave it a careful shake. The sound of small bottles clacking against one another made her hurry through the brush to the clearing to check the fragile contents.
The catch had jammed and she crouched down beside Linc’s things to set her case on the ground and force it open. She was so absorbed in the task and so worried that the contents had been damaged, that she forgot to go back to the plane to help with the rest of her luggage.
“Thanks much, Princess.”
The sound of the suitcase and garment bag hitting the ground next to her made her jump. Madison frowned at the luggage he’d dropped, then jerked her head up to glare at him. He’d located his Stetson and it cast an appealing shadow over his handsome face.
“How dare you throw my belongings around?”
One corner of his handsome mouth quirked. “Didn’t exactly throw them. Unless you’d like me to demonstrate what that would look like, so you can tell the difference.”
Something about the way his dark eyes shifted to her large suitcase made her reach toward it protectively.
