Million Dollar Marriage. Maggie Shayne

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ was still using her. But Ryan’s guise as the kindly patriarch didn’t fool Maria. Nor did his claim to be madly in love with her mother. If he’d loved her, he would never have dumped her thirty years ago, leaving her alone and pregnant.

      He’d fathered Maria’s brother, Cole. Him, or that philandering brother of his, Cameron. Maria couldn’t be certain. Her mother refused to say exactly what had happened when she’d worked in the Fortunes’ household as a girl. She hadn’t told anyone, not even Ryan, whom she’d “found again” after thirty years. None of the Fortunes knew about the crown-shaped birthmark Maria’s brother bore, identifying him clearly as one of their own. And Cole said he didn’t care.

      But Maria cared. Part of the Fortunes’ wealth rightfully belonged to her family. To her mother for years of suffering and silence. To her brother who’d been denied his share. Cameron and Ryan Fortune were to blame, she was certain, for her family being cut out. But Cameron was already dead, and burning in hell if there was any justice in the world. And Ryan…he would soon be in a hell of his own, a hell of Maria’s creation. And his whole rich family would be there with him.

      Maria clutched the tiny bundle in her arms closer, jiggling him gently as she slipped past the kitchen unnoticed. Little James was blessedly quiet. Good. She didn’t want to spoil her surprise by giving it away too soon. In the kitchen, that witch housekeeper, Rosita Perez, made enough noise to cover any James might make anyway. Barking orders to the staff as if she were one of the Fortunes. She’d never liked Maria. Always acted superior, even though she was just a glorified maid. Chief cook and bottle washer to the great Fortune clan. Had been forever, even thirty years ago when Maria’s mother had worked in this very house, in that very kitchen. And one year ago, when Maria had done the same.

      Just like her mother, Maria had managed to sleep with a couple of Fortune males. Unlike her mother, she’d had a motive…to bear a Fortune child of her own and claim what her entire family should have claimed long ago. A fair share. And though Maria’s attempts had been unsuccessful at first, she’d found a way. Unorthodox, perhaps, but a way all the same. Just like her mother, Maria Cassidy had given birth to a Fortune child. Little James bore the distinctive, hereditary crown-shaped birthmark on the small of his back. Just like Maria’s brother, Cole.

      That part of her plan was complete. This was the next step. Maria intended to tell the whole world who had fathered her child, and claim what was rightfully hers. A piece of the Fortune pie. A big piece.

      She slipped through the old pantry to the back stairs and went up them, knowing every inch of this estate by heart. The nursery was at the end of the hall, and that was where Maria headed, on tiptoe, careful not to be seen.

      When she stepped into the lavish nursery, she grimaced. ¡Dios! That Ryan’s grandchild Bryan should have all this while her own son had nothing! While her own brother had worked his tail off for everything he’d ever achieved. While her own mother had gone without all these years….

      The crib at the farthest end of the nursery was hand-tooled light oak, and probably worth a bundle. The walls had been elaborately decorated with bright colors, and building blocks and teddy bears. The rocking chair was an antique. And the bassinet… God, the bassinet…

      Maria went to it and ran her hands over the gleaming wood. It wasn’t a piece of furniture. It was a work of art. “This is where you belong, James,” she whispered to her son as she laid him gently inside it. “That’s right, darling. Sleep. Just sleep. Mamma will be back for you when the moment is right.” Bending closer, she kissed her son’s silken cheek, then straightened, and stepped back into the hall, closing the door softly behind her.

      She paused there, took a breath, and wondered briefly if she were making a mistake. But no. This was right. She had to do something. She couldn’t let her mother go on sleeping with Ryan Fortune, believing that he loved her, believing that he would divorce that barracuda wife of his and marry Lily. He wouldn’t. He’d leave her high and dry…just like before. He still hadn’t acknowledged Cole as a Fortune. If he loved Lily, he would at least have owned up to having fathered her firstborn. Because even though Lily had never told him, he must at least suspect the truth. The man could add, couldn’t he? Lily had given birth to Cole only eight months after running away from the Double Crown Ranch—only seven months after marrying Maria’s father, big, gentle Chester Cassidy.

      Well, Ryan Fortune would acknowledge James as his grandson. Maria would force him to.

      It was the perfect setting for her revelation. A lavish, no-holds-barred christening party for Matthew’s child, Ryan’s grandchild, Bryan Fortune. But this whole clan would soon find out that they had another child to celebrate. Maria’s child. James.

      And he was here to take his rightful place in the world. Her son was a Fortune. And he would not be denied!

      Holden Fortune was not amused. His uncle Ryan had paraded no less than a dozen “nice young ladies” past him tonight in a thinly veiled effort at match-making that was doomed to failure. He’d just introduced yet another; a petite little thing that reminded Holden of a mouse. Holden’s brisk greeting had sent her skittering off in search of someone friendlier. Uncle Ryan was scowling at him in a fairly good impersonation of Heston’s scowling at Brynner in The Ten Commandments.

      “I don’t understand you, Holden. We all know you like women—”

      “Ever the king of understatement,” Holden remarked dryly, taking another sip of bourbon and branch.

      “So, what’s the problem? Every girl I’ve brought over here has been attractive, and nice and—”

      “I don’t want attractive and nice, Uncle Ryan. I want drop-dead gorgeous and very, very naughty. Especially tonight. ‘Nice’ just isn’t gonna cut it tonight.”

      Around him were more people than he’d seen at the last cattlemen’s convention. Two-thirds of them family. All the colorful Mexican rugs had been rolled back and the double patio doors thrown wide. The crowd spilled out into the courtyard where Rosita had piled food on tables and Matthew manned the barbecue pit. The smells were damned mouthwatering. Yet Holden had no appetite.

      “You’re going to have to stop this,” Ryan ordered in his head-honcho tone.

      “Stop what?”

      “You know damned well what. Holden you are not your father. You don’t need to go through life trying to live up to his reputation as a playboy. You can settle down, find a good woman, make a life—”

      “Yeah, dear ol’ Daddy made sure I would, didn’t he? Went so far as to write it into an ironclad will that I can’t inherit my fair share until I do.”

      Ryan nodded solemnly. “And just why do you think my brother did that, Holden?”

      Holden shrugged. “Because he was a bastard?”

      Ryan lowered his head quickly, probably to hide a hint of amusement. “I like to think my brother realized the error of his ways, in the end. I like to think he wrote those conditions into his will so his firstborn son wouldn’t make the same mistakes he did.”

      Holden sighed deeply and shook his head. “Therein lies the problem, Uncle Ryan. If I marry some decent woman, I will be doing just that. Repeating my father’s mistakes. Ruining a good woman’s life by tying her to me. For God’s sake, look at my mother.”

      Ryan did. He glanced up, scanned the crowd. Holden followed his gaze and found Mary Ellen Fortune standing alone, a drink in her hand, staring up at the portrait of her dead husband. Fifty-six, СКАЧАТЬ