Terms of a Texas Marriage. Lauren Canan

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       Three

      “All right, Ms. Hardin.” His throaty voice penetrated the silence of the room. “We’ll play this one your way and see what happens. I’ll honor the conditions as set forth by our ancestors and we will be married. And there will be no development on any of the land as long as the marriage continues or if this...union...should exceed one year.”

      He paused, tilting his head slightly as though studying her reaction. “But know this—” the tone of his voice reflected the seriousness of his words “—you will be my wife as stipulated in the original lease. Legally and spiritually, body and soul. You’ll share my life, as well as my bed, for the duration. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

      It was time to bail out. She knew it but couldn’t seem to move. He was telling her exactly what she would have to agree to, up front. He was giving her every opportunity to walk away. She took a deep breath and hoped her strength was as unfailing as her stubbornness.

      “I understand.” Her voice was firm although barely above a whisper.

      “Do you?” A sparkle glistened in Alec Morreston’s amber eyes. “I guess we’ll find out tonight, won’t we?”

      He released her and stepped toward the door but hesitated before pulling it open. “One more thing. I’ll require a prenuptial agreement. Thomas should have time to fax one to your attorney’s office before—”

      “No.”

      His eyes narrowed, pinning her to the spot. “Excuse me?”

      “You heard me. I said no.”

      “Ms. Hardin, do you really expect me to marry a woman I don’t know and risk losing half of everything I have?”

      “I’d say, after your earlier statement, you expect me to give up more than that. No prenup, Mr. Morreston. I want no part of anything you own, other than my ranch. You can trust me on that—” Shea eyed him coolly “—or you can book your flight home.”

      She could see the muscles in his jaw working overtime as he apparently strove to keep his temper from exploding.

      “My personal holdings have nothing to do with this land issue. If, as you say, you want nothing but the land, then signing a prenup should not be asking too much.”

      “Neither is wanting to keep my home,” she countered. “Nothing in the contract said anything about a prenuptial agreement. I refuse to sign one. If you refuse to marry me because of that, then I guess the land is mine. Your call.”

      Her heart beat so solidly against the wall of her chest she felt sure he could hear it from three feet away. She hoped she looked calmer on the outside than she felt on the inside.

      Silence dominated the room. A barely perceivable change in his stance, from tense to an almost exaggerated casualness, conveyed the control he maintained on his emotions. His tawny eyes drifted over her as if trying to discover how much determination lay underneath. The burning strength of his gaze wandered insolently from her face to her breasts, down to her belly, to her hands—held tightly clenched at her sides—then down the legs of her jeans all the way to her feet. Shea could feel the blush spread across her face as he rudely inspected and silently weighed the feminine merchandise standing in front of him.

      “All right, Ms. Hardin,” he said finally, his tone suddenly menacing. “We’ll play hardball if that’s what you want. You just upped the stakes and I’d be a fool not to call your bluff. Be ready tonight, honey. Be ready for me.”

      He stepped back and opened the door. Shea shakily, but resolutely, walked through it. While temporarily disconcerted by his unexpected and candid proclamation, she knew the marriage would never be consummated. He was trying to intimidate her. That’s all it was. He would do well to remember that two could play this game.

      She had no intention of letting herself become physically ensnared and used by an egotistical maniac. She may have been forced into making a pact with the devil, but he would quickly find she was anything but a sacrificial lamb. Alec Morreston was city bred and raised. He had no concept of the sometimes harsh realities of ranch life, and she’d bet he wouldn’t last a month.

      In fact, she had just bet the ranch on it.

      * * *

      “Alec...” The heavy concern in Thomas’s voice was clearly evident through the telephone line. Alec could picture him gripping the receiver so tightly his knuckles were turning white. He was almost sorry he couldn’t be there in person to deliver the news of the pending wedding. “Are you certain you know what you’re doing?”

      Because their client-attorney relationship had grown into a solid friendship over the years, Alec wasn’t insulted when СКАЧАТЬ