Her Forbidden Bridegroom. Susan Fox P.

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      “I didn’t come to be sociable, Miz Farrell. Your pretty manners are wasted on me.”

      Now he saw the color vanish from her cheekbones, confirming the notion that she was as completely intimidated by him as she’d been five years ago, and thus would be easy to manage.

      He lifted his hand to his chest, frowned at the small start she gave at the movement, then slipped his fingers into his suit pocket to remove the check. He held it out so she could see the amount.

      Her deeply blue eyes dropped automatically to the digits. There was a spark of something then. Surprise? Or was it a flash of pain?

      “Give Owens two weeks notice, then quit,” he told her brusquely. “This should hold you over until you can find another job. If you leave San Antonio to take a job, I’ll give you double that amount. Every year up to five years, I’ll leave a matching check for that double amount in an account with my attorney. Every year up to five years that you stay out of San Antonio and have no contact with Kendra, the attorney will transfer that yearly amount into whatever out of town bank account you choose.”

      Mitch paused because she appeared to sway. He hardened his heart to that show of shock because it was more likely shock that he’d given her what she’d wanted so easily. And from the amount on the check, she could surely see that multiples of that kind of money, if carefully handled, would soothe the sharper edges of her lust for riches for a long time to come. He went on.

      “After five years, the money deal expires. By then there’ll be a record of every transaction. If you approach Kendra again, we’ll have a money trail to take you to court for extortion.”

      “How dare you?”

      The words were choked and Lorna’s stormy gaze came up to his. She’d stood stiffly before, but now she looked so rigid that movement might make her bones crackle.

      Mitch lowered the check and tossed it dismissively to a lamp table.

      “How dare you, Miz Farrell? Trading on the resemblance you didn’t have five years ago to worm your way into an innocent kid’s life. You aren’t Doris Ellery’s long-lost anything. If you say one word to Kendra, we’ll press charges, petition the courts for a blood test, and when it comes up a no-match, you’ll have an arrest record and very likely a conviction.”

      He paused to let that sink in. Her face had gone bright red now and she was shaking. He kept his low voice harsh.

      “Choose a happy life, Miz Farrell. Take the money and leave town. You’re beautiful, you’re obviously clever, and you’ve got taste. Find some rich old boy and hold out for a ring and a date.”

      “Get out.” Her voice trembled as hard as she did now.

      “I meant every word, darlin’. Every single word. And you’re bright enough to know I can make it happen.”

      “Get out.”

      Lorna gave the two words separate emphasis. No matter how foolish she’d been, no matter how long she’d let the situation with Kendra go on, she wouldn’t tolerate this. So much for Mitch Ellery’s propriety and sense of fair play. He was trying to bully her into a setup. She was so outraged over it that she felt faint. Dark dots were swimming in her vision and her eyes felt on fire. Her whole body felt scorched.

      And still he made no move to leave, just stood there like a column of granite. The hostility that radiated from him in waves was so intimidating that it magnified her hurt and the fury she felt.

      She almost wished he had roughed her up. Anything, even that, would have been better than the brutal sting of his insult, not to mention the sheer menace of a man so much larger and stronger than she. The top of her head barely came to his shoulders. If he’d roughed her up, she could have dialed 911.

      But she was helpless against this. She had no doubt that he had the will and the means to frame her for extorting money from him, though she’d die before she took a single cent from anyone.

      Mitch Ellery was a bully, but suddenly none of it mattered. None of it mattered because the emotions of these past few months, the old hurts and traumas that had been stirred up and the horror of this confrontation, seemed to have short-circuited her body.

      The two-bite breakfast she’d caught on the run, the lunch she’d forgotten, the uneaten apple she’d carried home from the office, suddenly conspired with all the rest and she felt an odd lethargy as the dots swam faster and multiplied.

      Panicked, she tried to reach the nearest chair. She’d no more than taken a wobbly step and sensed Mitch Ellery’s sudden move when the world went black.

      Mitch had hesitated to reach for Lorna because he thought she was faking a faint. And then he’d caught her a second too late because she’d wilted so fast and gone so boneless that even catching her arm hadn’t prevented her temple from grazing the corner of the coffee table.

      He’d gathered her up and placed her on the sofa, but her small body was so rag-doll limp that it was amazingly hard to manage, though she weighed almost nothing.

      A pink welt marked her right temple and already the skin beneath it was staring to swell. Shock jolted him. She hadn’t flinched when she’d hit, and as he tested the delicate skin next to the swelling, not even a hint of reaction showed in her lashes.

      Hell. She hadn’t hit the table hard enough to be knocked out, so the lady had well and truly fainted. An alien feeling of guilt punched him in the gut. Remorse made him pick up one of her limp hands and chafe it between his palms.

      “Miz Farrell,” he growled. “One of us is gonna be damned upset if you don’t come around quick.”

      Mitch gritted his teeth for admitting that much. He patted the back of her still hand and when that got him nothing, he lightly tapped her pale cheek. Her glorious black lashes lay closed and motionless, and he felt another arrow of concern.

      Gently laying her hand on her small waist, he rose to find the bathroom. Once there, he grabbed an artfully folded washcloth from a white basket on the counter and wet it beneath a jet of cold water in the sink.

      Squeezing the excess water from it, he stalked back to the living room. Now her lashes spasmed and he sat down by her hip on the edge of the sofa cushion. He touched the cool, damp cloth to her cheek and was rewarded when she weakly turned her head to escape the sensation.

      Mitch lifted the cloth to gently press it against her other cheek before he realized he’d picked up her hand again. Her fingers tightened on his, but her grip was weak.

      His own low words, “Come on, darlin’, come on back,” startled him.

      Perhaps it was the remorse he felt, perhaps it was the simple compassion he had for any injured creature that accounted for the uncommon tenderness he felt suddenly. Or perhaps it was Lorna’s sharp resemblance to his stepsister. Whatever the reason, feeling tender toward Lorna Farrell was not quite the anathema it should have been.

      And when she made a soft sound of protest and brought up her other small hand to ward him off, he felt like a brute.

      Mitch allowed her to brace her hand against his chest while he pressed the cool cloth softly against the welt. She winced at the pressure and sucked in a breath, then struggled to move her head away.

      “Lay СКАЧАТЬ