His Black Sheep Bride (14 page)

Her chin came up, but she didn't answer him. She wasn't sure she trusted herself to repeat the lie.

Instead, she walked over to her safe and used the combination she'd committed to memory to open it. She kept Pink Teddy's more precious pieces inside.

Since he'd presented her with an opportunity, she thought she'd hand over his purchases to him—perhaps that would convince him that the two of them were really finished.

She retrieved two green felt boxes and walked back toward him. “I've finished the pieces you commissioned.”

As she opened the bigger box, her gut twisted. All this time, she'd been working on this project—
his gift to another woman
—and he'd been deceiving her.

She watched now as Sawyer stared at the glittering gems.

She knew what he was seeing. Initially by chance, and then by design, she'd fashioned a necklace with alternating emeralds and diamonds that complemented the Langsford tiara.

She knew she'd outdone herself, though pleasure had mixed with pain as she'd worked, so that the project had become a sweet torment. Presumably, Sawyer's mistress would get the emerald necklace, and in all likelihood, sometime in the future, another woman would wear the Langsford tiara as Sawyer's wife.

The creation of the necklace had been an act of self-flagellation, she admitted to herself. It had perhaps started as a reminder not to fall for Sawyer, but it had evolved from there. Had she been half hoping to foster feelings in him for her? Had she begun to hope she'd be the owner of the jewelry she fashioned?

Except she hadn't counted on becoming pregnant. Except she hadn't known of his ultimate treachery.

His face inscrutable, Sawyer lifted the necklace with one hand, letting the jewels run over his fingers like a waterfall.

Tamara placed the now-empty jewelry box on her work table, and then opened the smaller velvet case.

Emerald earrings immediately caught the light.

In her opinion, the earrings were just as breathtaking as the necklace.

She glanced at Sawyer's face and noticed his eyes had narrowed. Did he see the similarities to the Langsford emerald tiara here, too?

His face unreadable, Sawyer took the case from her. “They're exactly what I was looking for.”

A fresh stab of pain shot through her, and she called herself all kinds of fool. “You know what they say. Give the client what they don't know they want.”

“Is that what you do?” he asked, setting aside the case with the earrings with what seemed like deceptive calm.

Tamara raised her chin. “Now you can leave.”

“I disagree.” He quirked a brow. “When were you planning to tell me you're pregnant?”

He said it so quietly she looked at him blankly for a second. He couldn't possibly—

Then she froze. “What makes you ask that?”

“Don't bother to deny it,” he said with sudden and quiet force.

She searched his gaze, holding her ground. “And what if I am?”

His eyes locked with hers. “Then a divorce is bloody well off the table. There is no way I'll let anyone call into question the legitimacy of the heir to the earldom.”

Of course,
Tamara thought with a sinking heart. Even apart from his agreement with her father, Sawyer's concern was with his potential future heir, not with
her.

“It could be a girl,” she pointed out challengingly.

“Regardless.” His eyes traveled down her dress, intimate and probing, reminding her all too forcefully of all they'd been to one another.

“How did you find out?” she asked.

His eyes flashed. “A phone message left by the doctor's office. You need to reschedule your appointment.”

Tamara closed her eyes briefly. She'd had her home number transferred from the SoHo loft to Sawyer's town house after the wedding. In her turmoil, she couldn't believe she'd forgotten to do something so basic as to call her doctor's office and update her contact information.

So Sawyer knew all, and much earlier than she'd anticipated and hoped.
So much for keeping a secret.
She hadn't even had time to marshal her forces.

She looked at Sawyer challengingly. “This pregnancy doesn't change anything.”

“Permit me to disagree. It changes everything.”

“All right, it changes everything,” she retorted. “I'll never forget that this baby was conceived to fulfill some—” she waved her hand “—deal with my father.”

They were too close, furious with each other.

“All those pretty words,” she scoffed, “when you were just deceiv—”

He cut her off with a hard kiss, reaching deep into her soul.

She breathed in his musky male scent and sensed the leashed power in him. He caressed her mouth, demanding a response from her that she unwittingly gave.

When he raised his head, he demanded, “Does this feel real to you?”

She stared at him.

He looked uncompromising. “We're not getting a divorce.”

She turned away. “I'm not sure the law will let you stop me.”

He grasped her arm and swung her back toward him. “I'm not concerned with the letter of the law.”

“Oh?” she asked, bracing herself. “Then with what precisely?”

His expression remained implacable. “Try to walk away, and I pull the plug on this—” he glanced around them “—and fight you all the way on custody. Stay married and all this stays yours, along with the title, position and social standing that comes with being my wife.”

She gasped at his bluntness.

This wasn't the man who'd made love to her—the man
she'd thought she was coming to know. This was the ruthless media baron who'd grown an empire—a man that her father could admire.

She knew Sawyer could very well follow through on his demands. He paid the rent on her SoHo loft. Moreover, he'd invested in her jewelry business, and had commissioned her most expensive order to date. He'd breathed new life into her company.

While the law might ultimately prove to be on her side, she didn't have many resources to fight him.

“A contested divorce will be long and expensive,” he said, as if reading her mind. “And it'll be messy. I can tie you up in court on procedural issues alone. And then you'll still need grounds for a divorce.”

“Oh?” she queried, her tone sarcastic. “You don't think your behavior qualifies as unreasonable?”

He smiled without humor. “I see you're familiar with the legal grounds for a divorce.”

“Of course,” she retorted, her eyes snapping. “My father has been divorced three times!”

“If you insist on going through with a divorce, then the score will be three to one.”

She refused to respond to the taunt. She was nothing like her father. True, she'd be a divorcée, but that was a far cry from being a serial groom who let business trump love and family every time.

“The divorce can still happen after the baby is born,” she tried. “With this baby, you can lay claim to having fulfilled the terms of your agreement with my father. Kincaid News will be yours. Why contest a divorce?”

“It's simple,” he said, his eyes all golden fire. “I want you back in my house. In my bed.”

“We don't always get what we want.”

Their gazes clashed, the standoff drawing out the tension between them.

Then unexpectedly, he looked down at the necklace he was still holding in his hand.

She'd toiled over it these past weeks, wanting it to be perfect. Thinking about him. What a fool she'd been.

“Here,” he said, holding it out to her. “This was always meant for you.”

Automatically, she stretched out her hand and took the necklace from him.

“Thank you,” she said flippantly, unthinkingly disguising her hurt. “My lawyer will be in touch.”

Sawyer's face tightened, and then he turned and strode to the front door. Seconds later, the door slammed shut behind him, the noise reverberating through the loft.

Her confrontation with Sawyer over, energy ebbed out of her like a receding wave.

She sat down heavily on the bar-height chair behind her.

Outside, a car honked. The busy city went on with its life.

She focused unseeingly on the necklace in her grasp, her hand pressing against the cool stones.

This was always meant for you.

She couldn't let herself believe him. She knew better than to trust him.

“T
amara is pregnant.”

Sawyer's announcement fell into a lull in his conversation with Hawk and Colin.

It wasn't quite the sudden and unexpected announcement it seemed. They had all been sitting in Colin's majestic penthouse living room for an hour already.

But after a snifter or two of brandy, even the most tightly buttoned of men couldn't be faulted for opening up.

It was a Friday evening, and each of them was still dressed in work attire—though ties had already been loosened or shed.

“Surprising,” Hawk finally remarked with a surfeit of understatement.

Colin lifted his tumbler in salute. “Congratulations on your impending fatherhood, Melton.”

“Thank you.”

There was a pause as all three of them took a swallow from their drinks, toasting the impending arrival.

“You've bested me, Sawyer,” Colin remarked. “I eloped. You've made the wife
enceinte.
”

Colin's face was inscrutable despite his levity, and Sawyer wondered again at the basis for his friend's incomplete annulment. It was unlike Colin to leave any loose ends.

Sawyer leaned back in his leather chair. “Still, you may discover I'll be following your path to a matrimonial lawyer. If you have a recommendation for a good one, pass it along.”

At his position beside the mantel, Hawk raised his eyebrows in surprise.

Colin—seated nearby on a camel-colored leather couch—as usual didn't give anything away with so much as the slightest change of expression.

“Surely you don't mean to divorce Tamara now,” Hawk remarked.

“No, but she may intend to divorce me.”

“You mean to let this go?”

Sawyer grunted. The hell he did. He'd pushed his way back into Tamara's loft, into her
life,
and demanded she come back to him, backing up his words with the threat of stripping her business from her and an ugly divorce and custody fight.

He pushed aside any misgivings at his heavy-handedness. She'd meant to leave him, and who knew when she would have seen fit to inform him of his impending fatherhood?

Yes, he'd made a mistake by agreeing to Kincaid's secret condition, but two wrongs didn't make a right.

He pushed back the encroaching thought that his actions had smacked of desperation.

“I can suggest an excellent lawyer who will deliver a protracted fight, if necessary,” Colin said. “On the other hand, I can't guarantee he'll actually complete the divorce—though, on second thought, isn't that what you want?”

Hawk's eyebrows lifted. “Are you admitting, Colin, that you purposely didn't finalize the annulment of your Vegas wedding?”

“I admit nothing,” Colin replied. “Except, of course, for the end result.”

Hawk laughed shortly. “You're an enigma, Easterbridge.”

Colin merely tipped his head in acknowledgment.

Sawyer's mouth twisted with dry humor, but the smile faded when he thought of his own recent dealings with Tamara.

Were his actions those of a desperate man? After discovering Tamara was pregnant, he'd acted reflexively. He'd tracked her down the next day and given her an ultimatum.

Well done, Melton.

He realized suddenly that Colin and Hawk were looking at him and waiting.

He looked from one to the other of his companions. “Have I missed something?”

“Should we expect to read news of your protracted divorce battle in the
Intelligencer?
” Hawk countered with a question of his own.

“I bloody well hope not,” Sawyer responded grimly.

“You're going to persuade Tamara not to divorce you, then?”

Persuade
wasn't exactly the right word, Sawyer thought.
Threaten
and
coerce
were more accurate.

“I've talked to her,” he responded shortly.

It had been two days since his confrontation with Tamara at the loft, and since then, he'd stubbornly embraced his righteous anger.

“Talked?” Hawk queried now.

“I laid the alternatives out for her.” Sawyer's lips thinned. “The ball's in her court.”

Hawk said nothing for a moment, and then gave a short bark of laughter. “In other words, you went in all hotheaded.” He shook his head slowly, ruefully. “I never thought I'd see the day.”

“What?” Sawyer asked irritably.

Hawk traded a glance with Colin. “I never thought I'd see the day you'd lose your head over a woman.”

Sawyer gave a grunt.

Was Hawk right? Had he lost his head? Tamara had a way of firing his blood, in more ways than one. He'd never had a woman get under his skin that way.

But he'd lived too long, had borne too much witness to his own parents' divorce, and was too aware of his and Tamara's differences to believe he was in l—

Hell and damn.

The realization hit him like a punch to the stomach.

“I don't see what you know about it, Hawkshire,” he nevertheless responded with aristocratic hauteur. “Isn't there a wedding planner somewhere who'd dispute your understanding of women?”

Hawk surprised him by refusing to take the bait, and instead, shrugged. “I've learned a few things since. Or maybe it's just easier to see someone else's situation clearly.”

Sawyer remained silent.

Had he lost his grip on reasonable behavior where Tamara was concerned? But then, when had he ever been reasonable about Tamara?

And more importantly, Sawyer thought, what was he going to do about it now that she refused to believe or trust him?

 

When the loft buzzer sounded, Tamara was expecting a delivery person or perhaps an unexpected client.

It was a Friday evening, but people had been dropping by regularly to visit her studio ever since her engagement and subsequent quick marriage.

She knew she had Sawyer to thank for the buzz.

Sawyer.

No, she wouldn't let her mind go there.

But when she went to the intercom, she discovered it
wasn't a delivery or client. Instead, her father asked to gain entrance.

Without acknowledgment, she hit the button to unlock the building door downstairs, left her front door ajar and then wandered back deeper into the apartment, her arms wrapping around herself.

She turned around only when she heard her father's footsteps and then the loft door closing. She knew she looked peaked from her latest crying jag and lack of sleep, but she didn't care. It was only pregnancy hormones, she told herself.

She eyed her father warily. “What are you doing here?”

As usual, he was dressed in a business suit for the office.

She wasn't sure why she hadn't turned him away. Perhaps because she thought he hadn't truly received his comeuppance. She'd left her ire for Sawyer three days ago, and her father had, advisedly and rather uncharacteristically, beaten a hasty retreat from the field of battle.

Rather than respond directly, her father surveyed her. “You look awful.”

“Thank you,” she retorted.

“In fact, you remind me of myself during one of my divorces.”

“I'm surprised that disposing of a wife affected you that much.”

Her father sighed. “I suppose in your eyes I bear a passing resemblance to Henry VIII.”

“My only quibble is with the word
passing
.”

Her father's lips lifted in barest acknowledgment as he stepped farther into the loft and took a seat in her armchair.

She remained standing.

“I suppose there's much we can quibble about, including the particulars of my divorces, some known, some not.”

“I've witnessed enough.”

“Perhaps.” Her father looked around, his eyes coming to
rest on a nearby display case before looking back at her. “It's quite an inviting space that you have here.”

“Thank you. I managed to hold on to it with a devil's bargain.”

Her father raised his eyebrows mildly. “Sawyer?”

She nodded. “He covered my rent and then some in return for a short marriage of convenience until the merger went through. Of course, I didn't know you had attached a very significant additional condition.” She glared. “How could you?”

Her father sighed. “You never asked me why I wanted this match between you and Sawyer.”

“Kincaid News,” she responded succinctly.

“True, but the old earl and I also thought you and Sawyer would suit.”

She arched a brow. “After the failed marriages that you both experienced?”

Her father shrugged. “Every marriage is different. Your mother's inability to adapt to being a viscountess was just one of the reasons that our marriage didn't work, though it was a major one.”

“The other being that your heart belonged to Kincaid News?”

Her father grimaced. “I did do my best to make you appreciate your heritage, both with Kincaid News and the title.”

“Yes, you did,” she allowed. “But anyone can see that Sawyer and I are—”

“—meant to be together.”

She shook her head stubbornly. “Will you do anything to succeed? Sawyer has been
pretending.
”

“Then he's a damned fine actor.” Her father sighed again. “I've had three wives. Allow me to boast some discernment when it comes to a man being ruled by his passion for a particular woman against all reason.”

Tamara almost laughed. True, Sawyer had a surprisingly
passionate side, but he was also a ruthless and calculating operator of the first order.

Much like her father.

“You always accused me of putting Kincaid News first, and that may be so. But Sawyer is a different breed, or at least he's become different.” Her father shot her a piercing look. “This isn't about business. Quite clearly he values something else more these days.”

“All the evidence is to the contrary,” she replied bitterly. “Especially now that victory is in his grasp. In a few short months, he'll be a father.”

The minute the words were out of her mouth, Tamara clamped her lips shut.

“Ah, I see,” her father said, a twinkle in his eyes. “May I extend my heartiest felicitations?”

“Sawyer didn't tell you?”

Her father shook his head. “No. I imagine he wanted to protect you from further upset.”

Her gut twisted. “I suppose making me pregnant is quite enough.”

“Sawyer is refusing to go ahead with the merger,” her father announced. “Only you can get him to see sense and change his mind.”

Tamara's heart clenched. Sawyer was refusing to proceed with the merger? She couldn't fathom it, even as her heart whispered that it was because of her. Because he cared.

Still, she steeled herself—she'd been hurt and betrayed too much already. “Do you really expect me to care?”

Her father scrutinized her face. “I believe you do care, whether you want to or not.”

She sniffed. “It'll pass.”

Her father grasped the arms of his chair and rose. “If you felt that way about him, you wouldn't be pregnant in the first place.”

Tamara opened and closed her mouth.

Her father gave her a little smile. “Perhaps you've met your match.” Then he leaned over and peered at the jewelry she had on display inside a glass case. “Your craftsmanship is quite superb. I imagine that with someone at your side handling the business angle, you'll have no problem becoming exactly who you want to be.”

“Oh? And who would that be?” she asked challengingly.

Her father surprised her by straightening, and then walking over to her and giving her a quick peck on the cheek. “You'll figure it out. You can keep holding on to bitterness at a perceived wrong, or you can leap with your heart. I may be a serial divorcé, but I also never stopped believing in the leap of faith.”

He tapped her nose. “In fact, I made another leap of faith with you and Sawyer. Don't try to prove me wrong for the sake of making a point.”

After her father had departed, Tamara was left to ponder his words as she absently moved things about in the loft.

Today had been the closest she and her father had ever come to an honest and forthright conversation. And it was all due to Sawyer, strangely enough.

And Sawyer was calling off the merger.

She supposed she should thank him.

Or stay mad at him.

Or…take a leap of faith.

 

Tamara stared at the pouring rain beating against her loft windows from her position looking out over the back of her couch. As soon as the thunderstorm let up, she promised herself she'd leave.

She nervously fingered one of the emeralds on the necklace that encircled her neck.

She was going to make the biggest leap of faith of her life today.

She looked down at herself. She'd carefully chosen the
scoop-neck beige knit dress to show off her necklace to its greatest advantage.

A rap sounded at her front door, startling her. She wondered who it might be. Her buzzer hadn't sounded from downstairs.

She crossed the room and checked the peephole. She stilled, but then in the next moment, she opened the door.

Sawyer stood there, wetness clinging to the shoulders of his open trench coat and to his trouser legs.

She hungrily took in the sight of him.

“May I come in?” he asked. “One of your neighbors was kind enough to allow me to follow him into the building.”

Silently, she stepped aside, and then shut the door once Sawyer was inside.

Then they stood facing each other. Neither spoke, though the air between them was fraught with tense energy.

She studied his face. It had the same smooth, uncompromising planes as always, but droplets of rain clung to his tawny hair, and his eyes…

The expression in his golden eyes was pure, undisguised longing, and she caught her breath.

He held out some papers in his hand. “These are the documents so far for the proposed merger. Tear them up if you want.”