The Texan's Forbidden Fiancée. Sara Orwig

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      Two

      The sun was on the horizon when Jake stood at her front door and listened to chimes. He had rarely set foot on this ranch because they would not run the risk when they had been dating in high school. Even when her parents were away, her siblings were around, or the ranch hands, who would have reported back to her dad.

      He and Madison had had secret meetings occasionally on the boundaries of their ranches, but those were rare.

      He looked at the house as if seeing it for the first time. The Milan family home was different from most ranch homes in the area. The stately Georgian with white Corinthian columns looked like it belonged in the Deep South. Two giant oaks framed the house but outside the fenced, watered yard were smaller, less majestic mesquite trees and cacti. The fine home stood on a working ranch that had prize-winning cattle and probably lucrative oil and gas reserves in the ground.

      He stepped up to the door and took a deep breath. An evening with Madison. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. He still expected her to try to back out, but he knew once they were on their way, she would be committed. Frowning, he pushed the doorbell and listened to the chimes. Had she backed out, standing him up now in a tiny effort to retaliate for their wedding years ago?

      Their wedding. The familiar, burning anger started in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t want to think about that time in his life or recall anything connected with that day. Keep this business tonight, he told himself. Present his case, feed the lady and whisk her back home. He suspected he was going to have to use his best powers of persuasion, but he had an ace in the hole that he hoped would capture her interest and make her agree to his plan. A twinge of guilt rocked him for the secret only he, his parents and his brothers knew. Clamping his jaw closed, he shifted his weight as he reached again for the bell. The door swung open and his breath left him.

      Looking sophisticated and breathtakingly beautiful, the woman he faced was stunning. Momentarily, another twinge of guilt stabbed him, but he shoved it aside. Recalling dealing with Pete Milan, the ever-smoldering anger threatened to make him lose his relaxed demeanor. With an effort Jake pushed aside any thoughts about her dad.

      “You look beautiful,” he said.

      “Thank you,” she replied quietly, but she didn’t look happy about his compliment.

      “Shall we go?” he asked.

      “This better be good.”

      “I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t have to,” he said softly as she turned away to pick up a jacket. She scowled at him, so he knew she’d heard him. She punched in an alarm code and stepped outside, closing and locking the door behind her.

      The driver stepped out of the black limo to hold the door for her. She climbed into the seat and watched as Jake sat beside her with space between them. He caught another drift of her perfume. It was not a scent he recognized, but it was enticing, filled with the smell of flowers and spice, and a hint of something more.

      Jake had been amazed at how much he had thought about Madison all week. He had the detective’s information about her, but it had meant little until he was in her presence. He flicked a quick glance over her. She still had the best-looking legs of any woman he knew.

      “So where do we get the plane?” she asked as the limo drove away from her house.

      “At the Verity airport,” he said.

      “Your plane or a charter?”

      “It’s my private jet. We keep company jets in Dallas,” he answered as he shifted so he could face her. Her green eyes were on him, steady, veiled, hiding what she felt, but he could imagine her thoughts were as turbulent as his. “Your art career is going well, I’ve heard.”

      “I’ve been happy with it.”

      “I’m sure you have since that’s what you always really wanted,” he said, failing to keep a bitter note out of his voice. “I wouldn’t think you’d bury yourself out here on the ranch if you have a gallery in Dallas and one in Santa Fe.” He kept up conversation but all he wanted to do was look at her. Her green eyes had always captivated him, but now he noticed so much more—her flawless skin, her full lips that he wanted to kiss. He almost groaned as he made an effort to look away. “I’m surprised you like it out here.”

      “I grew up here. I’m used to it,” she remarked, giving him a glance. She seemed more poised, controlled than she had before. “This way I can live in more than one place. I come out here to paint so I won’t be disturbed. In town there is something constantly going on or people dropping by. Mom and Dad gave the ranch to me three years ago. My brothers have their own places. I’m here in the fall until Christmas and I come back in May. The rest of the time I’m in New Mexico or sometimes in a condo in Dallas. Where are you most of the time—here on the ranch?”

      “No. I’d prefer the ranch, but I’m based in Dallas, where the home office for the energy company is. I’m seldom here because of taking care of business. By the time I’m forty, I hope to retire and be a full-time rancher because that’s what I love.”

      She nodded and became silent, looking out the limo windows. The airport was on the east side of Verity and they drove through the wide main street that had once been a dusty cattle trail before the town sprang up. They left the shops and stores, passing the oldest homes in the town, two blocks of wooden Victorian-style homes, some single story, some two or three stories tall, still occupied and taken care of with flowers and the oldest trees in Verity in the yards. Then they reached a tall Victorian house in a block by itself, the last before leaving Verity. She looked at the familiar sight, a wooden three-story surrounded by a three-foot wrought-iron fence and a front gate hanging on one hinge. Windows had been broken out. Weeds and high grass filled the yard, while the two tall oaks by the house were overgrown with vines. Without thinking she glanced at Jake.

      “There’s the Wrenville house. Remember when you and Wyatt and two other football players went out at night to search through the house?” Madison asked.

      “Like everyone else, we didn’t find anything and got chased out by the sheriff. I don’t think anyone today has much interest in the place.”

      “You and I have ancestors that were killed there—both in love with Lavita Wrenville according to the legend. Her father drew his weapon and all three men were shot and killed, but it was never clear who shot the other,” she said. “Before she died, Lavita said that one of them lived long enough to tell her who shot who. According to legend, she wrote it down and hid it before she died. I wonder if we’ll find anything when 2015 occurs.”

      “Your brother will know before anyone else. By 2015, there may not be many who care. According to the legend, the city can do what it wants with the house and property in 2015. I heard that’s why your brother is sheriff. So many people wanted him to run because he’s so honest and everyone trusts Wyatt. He’ll be sheriff when they can finally tear down the house and look for the letter,” Jake stated.

      “I think the reason they wanted an honest man is more because of the part of the legend that says Lavita died a very wealthy woman and her money is hidden somewhere in СКАЧАТЬ