Mail-order bridegroom (8 page)

She slipped her hand into the crook of his arm and walked with him to the great room, an area used for entertaining that stretched the full length of the ranch-house. It was her turn to stare in disbelief. Huge urns of flowers filled the room, their delicate perfume heavy in the air. And everywhere was the radiant glow of candlelight, not a single light-bulb disturbing the soft, romantic scene.

Her gaze flew to the far side of the room where Hunter stood, and her heart pounded in her breast. The wrangler she'd always known had disappeared and in his place stood a man who wore a tuxedo with the same ease as he wore jeans. She'd never seen him look so sophisticated, nor so aloof.

His hair reflected the candlelight, gleaming with blue-black highlights, and his eyes glittered like obsidian, burning with the fire of passion held barely in check. Despite that, he remained detached from his sur-

roundings, the high, taut cheekbones and squared chin set in cool, distant lines.

The sudden hush that greeted her arrival drew his attention and his gaze settled on her with piercing intensity. Her hands tightened around her bouquet, sudden fear turning her fingers to ice. With that single glance his air of detachment fell away and his expression came alive, frightening in its ferocity. He looked like a warrior who'd fixed his sights on his next conquest. And she was that prize. It took all her willpower not to gather up her skirts and run.

Conrad started to move and she had no choice but to fall into step beside him. In keeping with the medieval theme, soft stringed instruments played in the background. She focused on Hunter, barely aware of her passage down the aisle, even more dimly aware of Conrad releasing her and stepping back. But every part of her leapt to life the instant Hunter took possession of her hand.

The minister began the ceremony. She didn't hear a word he said; she didn't even remember making her marriage vows. Afterward, she wondered if she'd actually promised to obey her husband or if the minister had thoughtfully omitted that rather antiquated phrase. She didn't doubt that Hunter would refresh her memory at some point.

The ring he eventually slid on her finger felt strange on her hand, the unaccustomed weight a visible reminder of all the changes soon to come. She stared at the ring for a long time, studying the simple scrollwork and wondering why he'd chosen such an interesting design. Did it have any particular significance or had it been a simple matter of expediency?

*Leah.' Hunter's soft prompt captured her full attention.

She glanced up at him in bewilderment. 'Did I miss something?' she asked. Quiet laughter broke out among the guests and brought a flush to her cheeks. Even Hunter grinned, and she found herself riveted by that smile, aware that it had been eight long years since she'd last seen it.

'We've just been pronounced man and wife,' he told her. 'Which means...' He swung her into his embrace and lowered his head. 'It's time to kiss the bride.'

And he proceeded to do so with great expertise and thoroughness. It was her first kiss as his wife and the warm caress held all the magic she could desire. She was lost in his embrace, swept up in the moment. Yet, as intensely as she craved his touch, she longed to resist with an equal intensity. She couldn't bear the knowledge that this whole situation was nothing more than Hunter's way of gaining control of her ranch... and of her.

At long last he released her, his look of satisfaction stirring a flash of anger. Fortunately her irritation swiftiy disappeared beneath the flurry of congratulations from the press of friends and employees. By the time Inez announced dinner, she'd fully regained her composure.

Like the great room, the dining-room glowed with candlelight, flowers running the length of the oak table and overflowing the side tables and buffet. To her relief she and Hunter were seated at opposite ends, though as dinner progressed she discovered her relief short-lived. Throughout the meal she felt his gaze fixed on her. And as the evening passed her awareness of him grew, along with an unbearable tension.

As the caterers cleared away the final course, Hunter rose, glass in hand, 'A toast,' he announced. Silence descended and all eyes turned in his direction.

'A toast for the bride?' Conrad questioned.

'A toast to my wife/ Hunter lifted the glass. 'To the most beautiful woman I've ever known. May all her dreams come true... and may they be worth the price she pays for them/

There was a momentary confused silence and then the guests lifted their glasses in tribute, murmuring, 'Hear, hear/

Slowly Leah stood, well aware of the double edge to Hunters toast. Lifting her own glass in salute, she said, 'And to my husband. The answer to all my dreams/ And let him make what he wished of that, she thought, drinking deeply.

The party broke up not long after. Rose had arranged to stay with friends for the weekend and all the staff had been given the days off as a paid vacation. Only Patrick would remain, to care for the animals. But, knowing her foreman's sensitivity, he'd make himself scarce. They wouldn't see any sign of him until Monday morning.

Sending the last few guests on their way, Leah stood with Hunter in the front hall. The tension between them threatened to overwhelm her and she twisted her hands together, feeling again the unexpected weight of her wedding-ring.

She glanced at it and asked the question that had troubled her during the ceremony. 'Did you choose it or...?'

'I chose It. Did you really think I'd leave it to my secretary to take care of?'

'I didn't even know you had a secretary,' she confessed. 'What do... did you do?'

He hesitated. 'Mostly I worked as a sort of trouble-shooter for a large consortium, taking care of problem situations no one else could handle/

She drifted toward the great room, snuffing candles as she went. 'I imagine you'd be good at that sort of

thing. What made you decide to give it up and return to ranching?*

'What makes you think I've quit?' he asked from directly behind.

Startled, she spun around, her gown flaring out around her. 'Haven't you?'

'They know to call if something urgent comes up. I'll find a way to fit it in.' He drew her away from a low bracket of candles. 'Be careful. I'd hate to see this go up in flames.'

'It was my mother's,' she admitted self-consciously. 'I wasn't sure whether you'd like it.'

His voice deepened. 'I like it.'

She caught her breath, finally managed to say, 'You still haven't answered my question.'

'What question?' A lazy gleam sparked in his eyes and she knew his thoughts were elsewhere. Precisely where, she didn't care to contemplate.

'Why,' she persisted, 'if you had such a good job, did you decide to come back?'

'Let's just call it unfinished business and leave it at that. Do you really want to start an argument tonight?'

She glanced at him in alarm. 'Would it? Start an argument, I mean?'

'Without a doubt.' He pinched out the remaining few candles, leaving them in semi-darkness, the night enclosing them in a cloak of intimacy. 'I have a wedding-gift for you.' He picked up a small package tucked among a basket of flowers and handed it to her.

She took it, staring in wonder. 'A wedding-gift?'

'Open it.'

Carefully, she ripped the paper from the jewelry box and removed the lid. Beneath a layer of cotton lay an odd blue stone with a thin gold band wrapped around

it, securing it to a delicate herringbone chain. 'It's just like yours!' she exclaimed, tears starting to her eyes.

The only identifying article left with Hunter at the orphanage had been the strange gold-encased stone identical to the one he'd duplicated for a wedding-present. He'd worn it like a talisman all the time she'd known him, though he'd never been able to trace its origin successfully.

'I thought a gold chain a better choice than the leather thong I use.'

'Thank you. It's beautiful.' She handed him the box and turned her back to him. 'Will you put it on?' She lifted her hair and veil out of the way while he fastened the chain around her neck. The stone nestled between her breasts, cool and heavy against her skin.

Before she realized what he intended, Hunter turned her around and swung her into his arms. She clutched at his shoulders, her heart beating frantically, knowing that she couldn't delay the inevitable any longer. He strode across the entrance hall and climbed the stairs, booting open the door to the master bedroom.

She started to protest, but stopped when she saw the candles and flowers that festooned the room. At a guess, it was more of her grandmother's fine handiwork. This time, though, Leah approved. Giving them the master bedroom was Rose's tacit acknowledgement of Hunter's position in the household.

'Where's Rose's room?' he asked, as though reading her mind.

'Downstairs. She had a private wing built when my father married. She said the only smart way for an extended family to cohabit was to live apart.'

A reluctant smile touched his mouth. 'There may be hope for our relationship yet.'

He set her down, his smile fading, a dark, intense expression growing in his eyes. He removed the circlet from her brow and swept the veil from her hair. It floated to the floor, a gauzy slip of silver against the burgundy carpet.

He stepped back. 'Take off the dress. I don't want to rip it/

Fumbling awkwardly with the belt links, she unfastened the chain at her waist and placed it among the flowers on the walnut bureau. She slipped off her heels, wondering why removing her shoes always made her feel small and vulnerable. Finally she gathered the hem of her gown and slowly lifted it to her waist.

The next instant she felt Hunter's hands beside her own, easing the dress over her head. He laid it across a chair and turned back to her. She stood in the center of the room, horribly self-conscious in the sheer wisps of silk and lace that were her only covering.

'Hunter,' she whispered. 'I don't think I'm ready for this.'

'Relax,' he murmured. 'There's no rush. We have all the time in the world.' He approached, wrapping her in his embrace. 'Remember how good it was between us?'

She clung to his jacket lapel. 'But we're not the same people any more. Our.. .our feelings have changed.'

'Some things never change. And this is one of them.' His eyes were so black, full of heat and hunger, his face, tight and drawn, reflecting his desire. He lifted her against him, tracing the length of her jaw with the edge of his thumb.

She shuddered beneath the delicate caress. He'd always been incredibly tender with her, a lover who combined a sensitive awareness of a woman's needs with a forceful passion that had made loving him an experience she'd never forgotten. It would be so easy to succumb, to be

swept into believing he loved her still—-a fantasy she found all too appealing.

'I can make it so good for you,' he said, his mouth drifting from her earlobe to the tiny pulse throbbing in her neck. 'Let me show you.' He found the clasp of her bra and unhooked it, sliding the silk from her body.

She closed her eyes, her breathing shallow and rapid. He didn't lie. She knew from experience that making love to him would be wonderful. It was the morning after that concerned her, when she'd have to face the knowledge that he'd come one step closer to achieving his goal—of winning both the ranch and her. 'His hand closed over her breast and her heart pounded beneath the warmth of his palm. For an endless instant she hung in the balance between conceding defeat and allowing her emotions free rein, or fighting for what mattered most. Because if she couldn't protect herself from his determined assault, how could she ever expect to protect the ranch and all those who depended on her?

She shifted within his grasp. 'It's too soon,' she protested in a low voice.

'We'll take it slow.' He traced her curves with a cal-lused hand, scalding her with his touch. 'We can always stop.' But we won't want to. The words lay unvoiced between them, his thoughts as clear to her as if he'd spoken them aloud, and she shuddered.

Stepping back, he stripped off his jacket and tie. Ripping open the buttons of his shirt, he swept her into his arms and carried her to the petal-adorned bed. Once there he lowered her to the soft mattress and followed her down.

His fingers sank into her hair, filling his hands with long silvery curls. 'I've wanted to do this ever since I saw that picture of you,' he muttered.

She stirred uneasily. 'What picture?'

He tensed, and for a long moment neither of them moved. Her question had caught him unawares and she struggled to focus on it, to figure out why he'd reacted so strongly. He'd seen a recent picture of her. The knowledge was inescapable and she withdrew slightly, confused, questions hammering at her brain. Where and when had he seen the photo... in the study, perhaps? If so, why the strange reaction?

The picture on your father's desk,' he explained quietly. 'It shows you with long hair.'

'It was shorter when you worked here.'

'Yeah, well. I like it long.'

But the mood had been broken and she rolled away from him, drawing her knees up against her chest. There was more to his idle comment than she had the strength or energy to analyze. 'Hunter,' she said in a low tone. 'I can't.'

'It's only natural to feel nervous,' he said in a cool voice, making no attempt to touch her.

'It's not just nerves.' She swept up the sheet, wrapping herself in its concealing folds. Shoving her hair back over her shoulders, she met his watchful gaze. 'You've gotten your way, Hunter. We're married and there's no going back. You said yourself that we have all the time in the world. Why rush this part of it and risk damaging our relationship?'

A muscle leapt in his jaw. 'You think making love will damage our relationship?'

She caught her lower lip between her lip and nodded. 'It will if we're not both ready for this. And, in all honesty, I'm not ready.'

'When will you be?' he asked bluntly.

She shrugged uneasily. 'I couldn't say.'

'Give it your best guess. I don't have an infinite amount of patience.'