The Marriage Command

She was still tingling from his warm grip, still amazed that the crushing power she’d sensed in his fingers had been restrained to the point of gentleness. As big and strong as he was, his gentle grip was a stunning contrast.

She caught a glimpse of frustration in the way he yanked open a desk drawer and pulled out a thick file of papers. He appeared to be furious, but to his credit he didn’t explode, though she could read anger in every line of his body. Seeing that was another confirmation of the contrast between brute strength and gentleness in him, but she didn’t dare read so much into so little.

He pushed the drawer closed with a snap then walked to the wing chairs at the side of the room with the file. He shot her a surly glance.

“Are you gonna sit or not?”

Claire saw even more frustration but there was also a glimmer of discomfort, almost regret, in his dark eyes before they went flat and cold again.

Intrigued and marginally encouraged by that humanizing hint of discomfort, she walked over to the wing chair opposite the one he stood next to. She took the straps of both bags off her shoulder then sat down and placed them on the floor at her feet. That seemed to mollify him somewhat so he sat down.

The twin to the large leather wing chair she sat in looked too small for the big man, and she was again impressed by his size and obvious physical power. Cody had mostly been around women. The few men he’d had contact with were smaller in stature than Logan Pierce and more…well, civilized looking. Perhaps this explained why Cody’s first glimpse of his towering uncle had startled and upset him, and Claire began to worry about that too.

Though helping Cody adjust favorably to his uncle was akin to cutting her own throat, Claire was suddenly just as desperate for the boy to not be afraid of Logan as she was for Logan to genuinely love the boy and treat him kindly.

Her grim host tossed the thick file of paper onto the table between them. Fortunately, the small table could accommodate both the tray and the file.

Ignoring the propriety of offering his guest a glass of iced tea, Logan settled back in his chair and his dark gaze again cut over her face.

“That’s everything I have on you,” he growled, meaning the file, before he started detailing a list. “Honest, hardworking, long-suffering and patient with fools and promiscuous stepsisters, never been in trouble, churchgoing, self-employed from the week after the boy was born, and as chaste with men and as saintly with abandoned babies as a Mother Theresa. It’s a damned wonder you weren’t quite perfect enough to find a lawyer with enough smarts to get a file like this in front of the judge.”

Claire sat, wide-eyed and frozen in breathless shock at the litany of attributes he seemed to resent mightily, while they also managed to be a litany of backhanded and grudging compliments. Plus, he was all but declaring that she’d been victimized by an incompetent and ineffectual lawyer.

Did he feel guilty about steamrolling her in court? Perhaps, but it was clear that he resented feeling that guilt. Or was this a sign that he hadn’t truly wanted to win so much? Had he changed his mind about taking on the challenge and responsibility of raising his late brother’s orphaned son all by himself? Claire waited a moment more, both to somehow think of something to say as to give him an opportunity to go on speaking if he was going to.

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re getting at, Mr. Pierce, and I have no idea why you seem to be angry,” she began calmly when he hadn’t said anything more. “You got everything you asked for in court, while I got seven days after the judge’s ruling to bring Cody out here and turn him over to you.”

The surly line of his dark brow nettled her into adding softly, “If anyone’s entitled to be rude and cold and resentful, I don’t think it’s you, sir.”

She saw the glittering flare that shot through his dark eyes before he controlled it. The stern line of his mouth appeared to relax the tiniest bit.

“How bad do you want to keep the boy?”

Claire’s heart leaped with hope. Was he serious? Otherwise, it was a cruel question if he was merely bating her to draw her out so he could somehow use her answer to hurt her. On the other hand, what if he was asking because he wanted to confirm something for himself before he made some sort of offer that would give her at least minimal contact with Cody after today?

Oh God, she didn’t dare trust him. She was devastated enough over the impending loss of the boy. Claire thought about it a moment longer then decided she might as well answer his question. What did she have left of any value aside from whatever time—probably no more than minutes or, at best, hours—that she might yet get to have with Cody? Nothing else mattered to her but him, not even her pride, and without Cody there was nothing more anyone could ever take from her or hurt her with.

“Did your investigator write in that file that I love Cody just as fiercely as if he were my own little boy?” she started evenly. “That the very best moments in my life are when he’s smiling and happy, or when he discovers something new or when he learns how to do something he wasn’t able to do before? Is it written anywhere in your file, Mr. Pierce, that I’d lay my life down for him without a second thought? Or that I’d kill to protect him?”

How she managed to say all that while holding back an ever-rising tide of strangling tears, she didn’t know. She lifted her chin the slightest fraction and finished.

“Did your investigator print a warning page in there somewhere? Something that might read, ‘Caution. Don’t ever mistreat the boy, or this chaste, long-suffering, churchgoing, Mother Theresa clone might come after you with mayhem in mind?’ That’s how much I love the boy, Mr. Pierce. So yes, I’d probably do just about anything to keep him if I had no respect or regard for the law.”

The moment she finished speaking the words, Claire felt sick. What had she been thinking? She needed whatever goodwill this man might be able to stir up. The fact was that she’d been distraught for months now over the impending loss of Cody. This past week had been sheer hell, and suddenly all her rigid control was crumbling. Her heart was screaming with desperation and vicious pain. Somehow she managed to get the words past her tight throat.

“I apologize, Mr. Pierce. I’m very upset. Beyond upset. I’m a little frantic about how Cody will survive all this when he doesn’t know you at all. He’s just a little boy, such a sweet little boy…”

Claire’s breaking voice made her stop, and it was a good thing. No sense further damaging things between them by showing even more emotion or by threatening Logan Pierce any more than she already had.

That cold black gaze probed hers and then cut over her as deliberately as if he was dicing a vegetable.

Oh God, she really had blown it. Blown it completely. Surely he would immediately usher her out the front door and drag her to her car. After her threat of mayhem, he might even have someone follow her all the way to the highway and probably to the county line.

The stupidity of losing control could come at such a heavy price that she might not survive the paying of it. She’d not been sure she could live with the loss of Cody, but if any chance to see him again had just been ruined by what she’d said—something she’d done this time—Claire didn’t know how she’d be able to live with herself.

“I’ve behaved badly, but I’ve apologized, sincerely apologized, Mr. Pierce. I hope you’ll understand that this is a very emotional time.”

There was absolutely no flicker of change in those awful black eyes or even a faint hint of softening on his stony features.

Claire couldn’t imagine how Cody could begin to deal with this man! She was utterly intimidated, but Cody would be terrified. What on earth could she do to protect him? She wasn’t even certain she could protect herself.

Her brain was racing so frantically that she didn’t catch what Logan said to her then.

“Pardon me?” Her voice was barely a squeak now and it was all she could do to keep from crying. Her head was so full of tears that her ears were roaring.

“I asked why you’re twenty-four and not married.”

The out-of-the-blue question was a new shock, and she answered before she thought about it. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business. Just as it’s not my place to ask you why you’re not married.”

Again she saw the glittering flare in his dark eyes, and realized with some surprise that what she was seeing was male interest. She almost wished it had been a signal of anger. That she would understand. But interest? She had to be misreading him. He was probably furious, though his stony expression made it difficult to detect anything more certain than harshness.

“Then you need to know that I just made it my business, Miss Ryan,” he said gruffly, emphasizing the formal use of her name the same way she’d emphasized the formal use of his by addressing him as Mr. Pierce.

“I want to know if you’re capable of being a wife. The boy ought to have more than one parent at a time. Are you capable of being as good a wife as you are a good mother?”

Claire gave her head a small, dazed shake. “I suppose.”

“A traditional wife who stays home? One who can run a house, entertain guests, arrange her husband’s social life? Spend his money, have good sex, raise his kids?”

He paused, making Claire realize her face probably showed her utter shock. The little shocks he’d dealt her so far that day were nothing compared to this, and suddenly she knew he was on the verge of presenting her with the biggest shock yet.

Claire felt the room tip a little and her head began to swim. She had to be misunderstanding this whole bizarre conversation, had to be, so she made a try at another interpretation.

“Are you saying that if I found a husband and was a stay-at-home wife and mother, that you might consider allowing me to raise Cody? If that’s the case, then yes, I’m more than capable of being a good wife the moment I find a suitable husband.”

Claire realized she was shaking all over suddenly as the roaring in her ears got a little louder. But as loud as that roaring was, it was amazing how clearly she heard what he said next. Though his voice was still a low, gravelly drawl that was almost a growl, it was as loud in her ears and in her brain as if he’d yelled out the words.

“I meant, be a good wife to me, Miss Ryan. Marry me. Agree to all the things I mentioned, and I’ll allow you to adopt the boy when I adopt him. Otherwise, I’ll let you stay here through the weekend, but Monday morning you’ll have to leave. The boy and I will have to work things out between us without your help.”

I meant, be a good wife to me, Miss Ryan…

The room began to spin as those words and those next ones, Marry me, began to go round and round in her brain. But then the other things he’d listed before began to rush in a chaotic circle around those.

Run a house, entertain guests, arrange her husband’s social life, spend his money, raise his kids…

They weren’t bad words, they weren’t unpleasant words. In fact, they conjured up the kind of homey, satisfying scenes she’d always longed to see fulfilled when she found the right man and got married.

But then that other little item he’d specified, good sex, began to race around with all the others, somehow sparkling and tumbling and very quickly dominating all the other images his list had called up.