Marriage On Demand

Her heart quailed with dread. She glanced away from him, seeking relief from the sharp search his dark eyes made of hers.

“About what my father asked, I had nothing to do with that,” she told him. “I refuse to let him…”

The frustration of wanting to declare her intentions without saying too much about her true relationship with her father made it difficult. Her gaze shifted back to Ford’s just in time to see him step toward her and reach for her arm.

“Let’s go to the house, Miz Lambert, get something cool to drink. We can talk there.”

Rena froze that second before his strong fingers closed warmly around her arm. She tried not to flinch, but she couldn’t seem to control that. She couldn’t control the sudden, baffling weakness of her legs as she turned with him to start through the stable to go to the house.

She’d had no fear of the runaway stallion, no worries about standing her ground and catching his lead to calm him down, but she was terrified of this, so terrified. And the grimness about Ford now further unsettled her.

Could he feel the small earthquake his touch set off? The pleasure-fear of his warm grip surged so strongly that the moment they were through the stable, she pulled her arm away. Horrified that the awkward movement suggested she couldn’t bear his touch another moment, she faltered to a halt. So did he, and his calm gaze fastened on hers.

Her mouth went dry with bad nerves and it was a struggle to get the words out.

“I mean no offense to you, Mr. Harlow. What my father suggested…I won’t be part of that. Good day.”

She cringed inwardly at the stiff way it had come out, particularly the clumsy formality of that last. Good day. Fake-sounding and pretentious in a way that sent heat to her face and a sick feeling to her stomach. And she’d meant to say it then walk to her pickup and leave, but her legs were trembling and she couldn’t seem to move.

The sick feeling deepened as Ford’s expression went grim. Her worked up emotions felt the shock of the sudden change all the way to her feet.

“The drought’s getting worse, Ms. Lambert. I need the water on that west section.”

The drought of the past two years had depleted water resources in that part of Texas. Lambert Ranch had also been affected, but it was still water rich. Enough so that her father could let that west section go to Ford Harlow and still have plenty.

“Make my father an offer, but ask to lease the land. He’s cutting back on stock, so the cash will come in handy.”

It was a confidential bit of information that caused her a strong pang of guilt, but the truth was Abner was growing more difficult to work with, and he now had trouble keeping good ranch hands. Hence the cutback in livestock.

Ford’s stern expression hardened even more and for the first time, Rena got a clear glimpse of harshness and implacability. The kindness she’d seen in him before suddenly seemed as much a rippling mist above hard pavement as any other mirage.

She realized then that her secret fantasies about this man had been just as foolish and naive as her hope that her father would at last approve of her. She should have guessed that Ford Harlow was a harsh, implacable man. He was successful and he ruled his own small Texas empire. There could be no true softness in him, no sign of anything that wasn’t domineering and driven for him to be able to rule over so much and several other business interests as well. She’d always been intimidated by him, but she’d not thought it was due to more than his rugged good looks or his terse, no-nonsense manner.

She’d been wrong. Particularly after what she’d grown up with, she should have been able to see Ford Harlow for what he was: a man like her father. Not emotionally twisted like Abner—at least she hoped not—but hard and driven to have the world bow down at a finger snap. A man who felt entitled to get his way however it affected lesser mortals.

Nothing changed on Ford’s stern face, so she added more. “Ask him to lease you the land. He’ll will Lambert Ranch to Frank Casey, and Frank will likely need to sell off that section to pay inheritance taxes. There’s no reason for…” Her voice choked to a whisper and she felt her face heat. “No reason for you—”

She cut herself off and glanced away to finish it. “People don’t do that kind of thing anymore. At least, not where it’s civilized.”

The silence between them thundered in her ears. God help her, she didn’t have the courage to both wait for his comment and watch his stern face while he said it.

“People do still do it, Ms. Lambert. Your father and I aren’t quite done negotiating, but I expect you and I could join the ranks of the uncivilized any day now.”

Rena’s gaze shot back to his solemn look. Her soft, “No,” was as choked with disbelief as it was spontaneous.

“The forecast is skimpy on rain and I’m tired of hauling in water at a premium price.”

Rena shook her head, now unable to tear her gaze away from the rocky sternness of his rugged face. “You can’t marry a stranger for a piece of land. Marriage ought to mean more than that.”

The sternness on his face didn’t change by a flicker. “It should mean more than that, but often doesn’t. It ought to mean more than lust and it ought to mean more than bringing a new generation into the world. But most times it is about convenient sex and having kids.”

“What about…love?” It was a bold and intimate question for her to ask, but it had come out almost without her permission.

Now his stern mouth relaxed into a faint curve. “You are young, aren’t you.” It wasn’t a question. “And naive. Besides which, Abner’s in an almighty hurry and I’m not sure the drought gives us time for more than an agreement and a ceremony.”

He hadn’t truly answered her question, or had he? What he was saying was that his mind was made up. He wanted the land and he’d marry her without a second thought to get it.

Convenient sex and having kids. Apparently those were his only requirements beyond getting his hands on the west section of Lambert Ranch. Why that caused her incredible pain was no surprise to a woman who’d had so little love in her life that she’d fantasized about having at least a little someday.

Disappointment made her heart quiver and feel heavy. Her soft, “I’m packing to leave today” was little more than a whisper. She couldn’t seem to control the sad undertone in her words, so she finished quickly. “Your business is with my father, not me.”

She turned to start for her pickup and escape, but Ford’s voice brought her to an abrupt halt.

“I’m still negotiating with your father. He either wills Lambert to you outright, or there’s no deal.”

Startled by that, Rena looked back at him. “What?”

The stern line of his mouth curved slightly, but the dark glitter in his eyes banished any impression of humor. “You heard right. I’d be getting more than a wife, so you should get more than a husband. And just so you know, no man’s going to devalue my wife to the level of brood mare.”

It took a few seconds for her to absorb that, and she searched his face, looking for any sign that she’d misheard. Hadn’t he just said that marriage often didn’t mean more than convenient sex and having children? So why would he now say something that seemed opposite that? And something that so strongly hinted at a streak of protectiveness and maybe possessiveness?

“Tell Abner I’ll be by later,” he continued, as if he was oblivious to her reaction, though she knew he must have sensed it. “If things don’t work out and you go through with your plan to leave, I might have a job for you. See if you’re as good with horses as people say.” He paused and his voice lowered to a gravelly drawl. “I suspect they’re right.”

A compliment. Rena didn’t know how to take it, she didn’t know how to take any of the astonishing things he’d said to her. The rush of pleasure—profound pleasure—was unfamiliar and she was suddenly incapable of doing more than keeping her reaction under rigid control. Her face felt like a stiff mask.

Her perception—that Ford Harlow was a man like her father—had abruptly reversed. The odd sense that he was on her side and that when he saw her father he would be her advocate, was astonishing. No one had taken her side against her father since before her aunt’s death when she was eight.

A whisper of trust gusted over her heart, but the offer of a job was almost as terrifying as the thought of marrying him. Anything that would amount to being near this man on a regular basis was terrifying. And exciting.

She prayed her soft, “I’ll tell him,” didn’t reveal anything deeper than her agreement to tell her father to expect his arrival. She still couldn’t respond to the rest of what he’d said. Seconds rushed on and she felt them acutely. The best she could do was give him a faint nod and turn away to walk to her pickup.

CHAPTER TWO

THE Lambert Ranch west section had once been a ranch of its own, and though Harlow ancestors had bought up other properties further west, the original owner had sold the piece to a Lambert. On a modern-day map, the parcel would look like a hefty bite into the eastern boundary of Harlow Ranch.

In the time it had taken Rena to pack her things from the house and load everything into her pickup, she’d decided that Ford had changed his mind. He’d probably elected to wait for Frank Casey and his sons to inherit. Besides, Harlow Ranch was already vast. The most the parcel would add to it besides more grazing and water, was a straighter eastern boundary.

Given that, there was no logical reason for Ford Harlow to go to the extreme of shackling himself to a woman he barely knew, particularly a female who was far less than a man like him should have to settle for. Desperation might put a man in that situation, but Ford was hardly desperate. The drought was a drain on his resources, but little more. Other than the challenge of bargaining to at last get the section, there could be no other reason than greed or ego to marry her to get it.

And, if greed or ego was the reason, marrying a woman whom everyone considered mannish and undesirable was hardly the kind of showy marriage match expected of such a man.

Because she’d assumed Ford had changed his mind, his arrival was a surprise, but it was a shock when he insisted that she be present during his negotiations with her father.

That negotiation quickly degraded to a virtual showdown. The tension in the den was excruciating, though it was mostly hers. Her father sat stiffly behind his desk, his ongoing irritation evident. Ford leaned back comfortably in one of the wing chairs that his size seemed to dwarf, one booted ankle resting casually on the opposite knee. Rena was too jittery to sit and stood at the side of the room.

Her father, in a perpetual black mood, glared across the desk at the man who gave every impression of being untroubled by the old man’s increasing surliness.

Abner’s voice was sharp. “You want the land bad enough, you’ll marry the girl.”