Marriage On Demand

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Rena got into her pickup and started it to drive to the front of the main house, debating where to go. She could stable her horses and check into a motel until she knew the details of Ford’s deal with her father. What she truly wanted now was to forget it all and drive to Austin to begin the search for work, but the possibility of inheriting Lambert made that impossible.

Ford was just coming out of the house when she pulled to a stop next to his parked truck. He walked directly to her.

“I’ve already made arrangements for your horses at Harlow,” he told her. “My housekeeper’s got your room ready by now.”

The idea that he expected her to move directly into his home increased her unease.

“I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” she said quietly.

The faint smile on Ford’s mouth smoothed to a serious line. “Abner’s antsy about you leaving Lambert. He’ll focus better on keeping his end of the deal if it looks like you and I are keeping our end.”

Rena glanced away and gripped the steering wheel. “And once you and I are under the same roof and people hear about it, he could back out of the agreement.”

“Why would he do that?”

It was difficult to admit to Ford, but she made herself look at him to say it. “To cause…embarrassment.”

Ford appeared unfazed by that. “He already knows that once you and I are together, I won’t tolerate that. You seem to be the only one in doubt.”

She felt a pinprick of anger but kept her voice calm. “And you seem to be the only one who doesn’t understand how my father is.”

“Sure I do. He’s bad-tempered and he’s a bully. Once you’re away from him, he won’t seem so powerful and you can stop letting him worry you.”

The words were blunt and left no room for her to mistake either Ford’s opinion of her father or his disapproval of her worries.

“It’s getting late,” he went on. “Miz Zelly had supper started before I came over, and I’ve worked up a hell of an appetite.”

His dark gaze held hers for long moments and she sensed a double meaning in those last words, a sexual meaning that somehow pierced her ignorance and sent a flush over her skin. Her gaze jerked from his.

“So your men and your housekeeper know about…this?” She couldn’t bring herself to call it a marriage. “They think—”

“They think I’ve finally decided to marry. The shenanigans of a bitter old man, whatever those might be, won’t influence what they’ll think of you.”

This was his second dismissal of her worries about what her father might do. Frustrated by that, she was compelled to convince him her worries weren’t groundless.

“The man’s reputation doesn’t suffer what a woman’s does.” She glanced at him in time to catch the start of his smile.

Ford leaned toward the truck to rest a forearm on the sill of the open window. Which brought his face disturbingly close to hers. His voice dropped lower, and his words sent a double stroke of heat through her.

“Civilized people used to marry each other to stop wagging tongues. We can do that if the land deal falls through and you’re still worried about how this looks.”

Rena felt again that peculiar mix of fear and excitement, but she couldn’t seem to pull her gaze away.

“We need to get moving,” he said then. “It’d be nice to have you settled in before supper. We’ve got plans to work out before we get the license tomorrow.”

Her insides were quivering with added anxiety at the mention of a marriage license, but she did her best to conceal it. Besides, she hadn’t yet thanked Ford for what he’d accomplished for her. She made an awkward start.

“I’m obliged to you for putting yourself out in there with my father, and I’m…grateful.”

He came right back with, “We’re both obliged. To each other for what we’ll get out of the deal, and for a marriage.”

There it was again, that glimpse of implacability. The fear Rena felt made her give a nod before she faced forward, relieved when Ford turned to walk to his truck.

The moment his back was turned, she secretly watched him go, wondering how on earth she would ever adjust to him.

Ford had seen the fear in Rena’s troubled gaze. She was terrified of marrying him. He’d be willing to bet her terror was sharp enough that she’d almost give up the chance to inherit Lambert Ranch if it meant she wouldn’t have to go through with a wedding.

He wasn’t offended by that, he was touched. Unfortunately there might be little he could do to ease her terror in the short time between now and the end of the week.

Perhaps it wasn’t fair to try. Her father had put her in an impossible position, and Ford himself had just upped the ante for her. To be honest, he didn’t trust Abner any more than she did, but the details of the legal agreement he’d be signing might at least make the old man think twice about reneging later.

In the meantime, he had to somehow keep Rena from bolting while he tried to decide if getting his hands on more land and water was truly worth the trouble of marrying her.

By the time Rena angled the horse trailer near the stable at Harlow Ranch, she was shaking. She switched off the truck engine and got out to unload her horses, sick with misgiving.

Ford had driven in ahead of her and now he joined her to open the trailer gate and pull out the ramp. He introduced three of his ranch hands who offered to take care of her horses, but Rena gently declined, preferring to settle them in herself.

“Then one of you can get this trailer unhitched and taken back to Frank Casey at Lambert Ranch,” Ford told his men as he took the two horses’ lead ropes, leaving the filly for Rena. “The other two can take her truck up to the house. Miz Zelly’ll show you where to put Miz Lambert’s things.”

Rena got in a quiet “Thank you” to the men, though Ford’s brisk directions to them cranked her nerves several notches higher. Things were happening too fast. She should have been able to slow them down, to reconsider the shocking events of the day and make certain what she truly wanted, but her brain was pounding with it all.

The filly immediately began to act up, yanking away and fidgeting at the end of her lead. The abrupt move claimed Rena’s attention and she struggled to calm herself while she gave the filly a reassuring rub. Ford had already taken her horses into the stable, so Rena led the filly and followed.

Three large stalls halfway down had been prepared, complete with measures of grain and fresh water. Rena put the filly in the center stall, removed her halter, then waited while the yearling inspected her new quarters. Her horses took the change in stride. Ford and the ranch hand who was returning the trailer to Frank Casey got her tack stowed in the tack room, and once Rena was satisfied her animals were comfortable, she joined Ford for the walk to the main house.

The Harlow Ranch house was a sprawling two-story Victorian, with a large back patio overhung by leafy shade trees. Both the front and back verandas were decorated with urns of colorful flowers, which gave the whole place a look of energy and hospitality.

Nothing like the stark simplicity of the Lambert Ranch house, which had always seemed colorless and grim.

The kitchen was alive with the same vitality and color, from the display of hanging cookware over a large island counter in the main part, to the hanging pots of flowers and trailing vines and gaily colored tile of the large floor.

Food preparations were scattered over the island counter and parts of two others. The warm smell of baking bread and the rich aroma of roasting beef reminded Rena she hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

Zelly Norman turned from her work to give them a wide smile of welcome. Ford quickly introduced her to Rena, who greeted the small woman quietly.

“She’s a handsome choice, Boss,” Zelly remarked, and Rena was uneasy with the expression.

She considered the word handsome a masculine word, or one related to horses, but the happy smile on Zelly’s face couldn’t be mistaken for anything less than genuine approval and enthusiasm.

“Welcome to Harlow Ranch,” Zelly went on. “I hope you’re happy here. Let me know if there’s anything you need.”

“Thank you,” Rena said, unable to defeat the awkwardness she felt or the tremor of her smile.

Ford whisked her away for a quick tour of his home. The house was far larger than the Lambert main house, the rooms spacious and filled with light. The dimness and hint of oppression she was accustomed to was absent here.

It was a man’s house, with lots of wood and leather and color, but the feminine touches—needlework pillows, the occasional delicate chair or water-color painting and burst of ruffled curtains—made it all a pleasing combination that interested the eye, and Rena was surprisingly comfortable with the homey feel of it.

The upstairs tour dampened that feeling of comfort, if for no other reason than the fact that she’d never been near a bedroom in a man’s presence, much less accompanied a man into his own bedroom.

She might have lingered outside the room if she’d realized the huge bedroom was Ford’s, but he’d led her past most of the other six doors along the hall to this one, so she’d assumed he was leading her directly to the room his housekeeper had prepared for her.

The masculinity of the room and the obvious absence of her boxes of belongings, made her halt uncertainly a few feet inside.

“This’ll be our room after the ceremony on Friday. The walk-in’s big enough for your things, so we can move in all but what you need every day as soon as you want to unpack. Zelly’s cleared drawers in the dresser and the chest in here for what you don’t want in the closet. Your room’s through there,” he said, indicating the door at the side of the room, “to make it convenient.”

Rena’s startled gaze shot toward the open door that connected Ford’s bedroom with the next one. Ford went on as if he’d sensed the spark of horror she felt and meant to confront it head-on.

“We’ll be sharing a bed in a handful of days. It’s best for us to live close to each other’s habits between now and then.”

“I won’t sleep with you.”

The quiet words came out on a whispery gust. Ford’s response to that was instant.

“And I won’t marry a woman I can’t share a bed with. You need to plan on that.” The soft declaration made her heart fall, then kick into a wild beat. She looked at him, dismayed that his expression was hard and no-nonsense.

“There’s n-no need for a son.”

“Not for you to inherit, but I want sons,” he went on. “And daughters. I won’t marry a woman who’s not willing to bear my children.”

He was so brutally candid that she felt the room shift. “What if we’re not…suited?”

His stern expression didn’t ease. “Then we’d better set our minds on suiting each other before we go through a ceremony on Friday.”

Though his voice was still low and calm, its steely undertone wrapped around her and squeezed mercilessly. The urge to escape him was profound, but she managed to stifle it.

“What if I…change my mind about this? Or you do?”

Ford’s gaze searched hers. “Then I reckon there’ll be no marriage.”

His words only marginally eased the terrified thundering of her heart. Was the possibility of inheriting Lambert Ranch truly worth all this? If Ford was anything like her father, she’d be trading one tyrant for another. Only this tyrant, Ford, was the one who was the most potentially dangerous.

She’d had no choice about how she’d grown up. She’d be choosing to marry Ford, whatever the incentive, so that meant she’d be getting everything good or bad that would come with that choice.

What kind of man was he, truly?

“You ought to have a look at your room,” he said, and she realized she must have stared at him all this time. And, because he seemed so unerringly perceptive, he’d probably at least glimpsed evidence of her chaotic thoughts.

This man was too strong for her. Worldly, experienced Ford Harlow, who seemed to detect everything, could make mincemeat of her heart and scatter it in the dust without a backward glance.

She jerked her gaze from his face and walked stiffly to the connecting door for the expected glance into the room Ford had assigned her. The details—beyond the orderly stacks of boxes near the connecting door—made absolutely no impression on her. Her whole being seemed only able to focus on the man who stood behind her and the questions that whirled in her brain.

“We need to wash up for supper. Zelly serves at six.”

Ford’s voice was quiet, as if he’d sensed it all, as if he’d known that she was scrambling for something normal to fix on, for something to distract her from the pressure of the shocking demands he’d detailed to her.

All over a piece of land and an inheritance. The notion of marrying a stranger to get either seemed both foreign and immoral. To be expected to sleep with a man she didn’t know from the first day of that marriage was barbaric.

And, for a woman who’d never been kissed, who’d never so much as held a man’s hand, it was absolutely horrifying.

Somehow, she turned and managed to walk out of Ford’s bedroom into the hall, her heart beating so wildly that she was light-headed.

CHAPTER THREE

SUPPER was somber and quiet. The silence in the big dining room was measured by the heavy tock-tock of the ancient grandfather clock at the side of the room. Ford sat at the head of the long table, with Rena to his right.

The polished surface of the glossy dark wood reflected the soft lights of the ornate candelabra that had been placed near their end of the long table. A bowl of cut flowers sat at the base of the candelabra.

The look, as Zelly must have intended, was romantic, right down to the delicate china she’d laid out and the champagne Ford had poured and toasted them with. They both still wore their work clothes from that day, and the odd mix of romantic refinements and common clothes seemed symbolic of a marriage made for ranch land.

Except that no true romance existed beyond the candles, the flowers and champagne. The sight was a startling depiction of the truth: their marriage agreement was focused almost entirely on land, and the only romance in the deal amounted to table decorations put there by a well-meaning third party.

The food was excellent, and Rena got more of it down than she’d expected, but she felt self-conscious every moment. It was a huge relief when they finished and Ford suggested they take their champagne to the chairs on the front veranda.

Ford waited until she’d chosen a seat, then dragged one of the other chairs closer to hers and sat down. He’d angled his chair so they faced each other a bit. Rena took a sip of the champagne she still had left, but was too tense to relax.

“We’re gonna need to talk to each other, Rena. I enjoy the sound of your voice and I’d be interested in anything you’d have to say.”