The Marriage Bargain

She couldn’t wear the beautiful engagement ring, she shouldn’t, but she couldn’t take her eyes from it. And she couldn’t keep her heart from breaking over the gesture.

“Please…take it off,” Hallie begged.

“It’s tradition,” Wes insisted.

“This isn’t a real marriage,” she got out hastily.

She couldn’t bear the new sharpness in his dark eyes and her gaze fled his. She pulled her hand from his and immediately took hold of the ring to take it off.

Wes caught her hands before she could remove the ring….

What kind of man makes the perfect husband?

A man with a big heart and strong arms—someone tough but tender, powerful yet passionate….

And where can such a man be found?

In our brand-new miniseries:

Marriages made on the ranch…

The Marriage Bargain

Susan Fox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

MILLS & BOON

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CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ONE

HALLIE Corbett stared at the elderly man on the hospital bed. Grave illness hadn’t dimmed Hank Corbett’s harshness or the spite in his nature.

“You heard me,” he panted. His gray eyes bore into hers. Gunmetal gray. Like a pair of Colts aimed at her brain, threatening her heart, imperiling the only life she’d ever known.

“You don’t get a dime or a single Corbett investment. Candice gets all that.”

Hallie was stoic. She’d learned early in life that showing emotion made her a target for attack. She sensed a follow-up to her grandfather’s declaration. He always threw her a crumb, some insignificant scrap that kept her in the game.

He’d made her an emotional gambler. He’d barred her from his heart, but he always dangled something to keep her in range, to keep her hoping. And, like a dog about to starve to death, she always grabbed for the scrap. Though the crumb often turned out to be a mirage, it was the promise of a win that lured her.

And hope. Hope that the old man had let her stay on all these years because he had some fondness for the illegitimate child of his disgraced daughter.

Shaky promises and hope. Her real enemies, not the old man on the bed or her cousin, Candice, the granddaughter Hank Corbett doted on.

Her voice was low, but loud enough for him to hear. “What about the ranch?”

“Four C’s belongs to the Corbett worthy to carry on the legacy.”

Hallie felt the familiar surge of jealousy and frustration, but was careful to keep her tone neutral. “Legacy means nothing to Candice. She’ll have a buyer before they close your grave.”

The words were brutal, but she ignored the shiver of guilt. She was fighting for her home, for the only thing she might ever have.

The old man’s eyes sparkled with interest. He was like a wolf who’d caught a whiff of fresh blood. “You want it bad, don’t you?”

Her lips went stiff with the effort to suppress a tremor of emotion. She didn’t answer because they both knew she wanted the ranch. She loved the land. It didn’t play favorites. It was no more harsh with her than it was with anyone else. She’d made peace with its wildness; it was in her blood.

Four C’s Ranch was the only place she really did belong. And it wasn’t the house or family that had given her a feeling of place, but the Texas soil itself and all that was nurtured by it. She’d held out this long for a chance at ownership. At least a piece.

The elderly man on the bed chuckled then choked, his face going red with the coughing spasm that silenced his mirth. Hallie made no move toward the bed because he’d reject her display of concern. He’d never allowed her to express even a hint of affection. He’d never offered her any.

When he recovered from the spasm, he closed his eyes. Hallie thought at first that he was dismissing her, but then his eyes opened and shot straight to hers. The gleam was back.

“You’ve been a shame on this family since your mama brought you home to me. But you’re blood, however you got bred. Won’t leave you a dime more than the first six months operating expenses, but you can have Four C’s. If you get a husband before I die.”

The words were so stupefying that Hallie forgot to mask her expression.

Hank Corbett smiled, a curve of pale lips that made him look truly evil. “Folks ’round here think you don’t like men. Most aren’t sure you’re even female. Bastard’s one thing, but I won’t let a misfit inherit Four C’s. Legacy can’t live through a single woman who’ll never breed heirs.”

Hallie felt her head go light. The room actually started to spin.

“Had the lawyer put it in the will. Go see ’im if you got doubts. Make ’im show it to you.” He expelled a weary breath. “Now get out of here. I need some rest.”

Still in shock, Hallie turned and with rigid dignity walked from the room. When she reached the hall, she got only a few steps before she stopped and put out a hand to the wall for support. She was shaking all over.

She could have Four C’s. Thirty thousand acres, shining in her mind like a massive jewel. It could be hers. The prize she’d hoped for, waited for and endured a lifetime of pain and deprivation to have a chance at. He’d willed it to her then yanked it away before she could reach for it.

A husband. Women like her didn’t find husbands.

According to her grandfather, most people weren’t sure she was female. Of course he’d say that. Anything to snatch away the last bit of confidence that had survived being bullied and shamed out of her.

And he’d accomplished his goal. Because the truth was, few people acknowledged her as a female because they never saw her act like one. She worked on the ranch as hard as a man, doing the same work and putting in the same grueling hours. She didn’t own a dress, and couldn’t remember when she’d last worn one. She’d never had a sweetheart or a date. With Candice around, she doubted men even noticed her.

You can have Four C’s…if you get a husband….

Hank might as well demand that she fly to the moon.

Wes Lansing’s Red Thorn Ranch was as large as the Four C’s. The eastern boundary of the Red Thorn was also the western boundary of the Four C’s. The Lansing and Corbett families had lived side by side for five generations; they’d been enemies for four.

At times, the enmity between the two families had been bloody, but for the past twenty years, it had settled into a wary calm that passed for civility.

Ironically, it was the warring history between the Corbetts and the Lansings that gave Hallie confidence. The feud had started over a parcel of land—a parcel that would be included in the Four C’s land inheritance. If Hallie could meet the requirements to inherit the Four C’s, the parcel would belong to her to do with as she pleased. If Wes Lansing was willing to barter with her to get it, she’d make certain he got the parcel.

Wes was a man just as hard and harsh as her grandfather, but he was known as a man of honor. He was honest and fair in his business dealings and with the people who worked for him.

But the biggest indication of his character was that Wes Lansing was the only eligible male in their part of Texas who was completely immune to her cousin Candice. In spite of the history between the Corbetts and Lansings, Candice had tried for years to snag his interest. And failed. He might be the one man Candice could never seduce away.

How bad did he want the parcel?

Two hours ago, they’d moved her grandfather into Intensive Care. Candice had banished her from the hospital, and Hallie was secretly relieved. Any time she could be spared Candice’s venom was a blessing.

Especially now, when she didn’t want to face her feelings about Hank Corbett’s impending death. Because of the Will, she was taking what he would consider a disloyal step against him, and the knowledge made her queasy.

Hallie’s heart thudded heavily in her chest as she felt the enormity of what she was about to risk. As she walked up the porch steps to the huge veranda that circled the Red Thorn Ranch mansion, her legs felt rubbery.

She reminded herself, for at least the hundredth time, that if she lost her chance at the Four C’s she could leave this part of Texas. If she took this daring chance and was soundly rejected, it was a shame she wouldn’t have to endure long.

She could walk away, find a life somewhere else, someplace where she wasn’t known. The world wouldn’t care that she was illegitimate or that she’d once been desperate enough to ask a man to marry her. If she failed today, she’d go home and pack her things. There’d be no reason to stay around. After Hank Corbett died, Candice would throw her off the Four C’s. Hallie was determined to deny her cousin the pleasure.

The last person Wes Lansing expected to walk into his house was Hallie Corbett. He’d heard old man Corbett was dying but he hadn’t felt a speck of sorrow over it.

If his housekeeper had told him it was Candice Corbett waiting in the front parlor, he might have refused to see her. But the news that his visitor was Candy’s reclusive cousin Hallie intrigued hell out of him.

Though his sister, Beth, had attended school with Candice and Hallie, he could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he’d seen Halona Corbett close up. She hardly ever attended social functions. If she’d ever done anything in her life to attract attention it would have been novel enough to make the papers over half of Texas.

Wes leaned back in the big swivel chair behind his desk as he waited for his housekeeper to show Hallie to the den. Whatever she wanted couldn’t be half as interesting as the fact that she’d come to Red Thorn and asked to see him.

As she followed the housekeeper down the long hall to the den, Hallie gripped the neatly folded copy of the Last Will and Testament of Hank Corbett. The will laid out precisely the conditions of her inheritance. That it required the “husband of Halona Corbett’s choice,” and didn’t specifically prohibit her choosing Wes Lansing, made this last gamble possible.

The housekeeper stopped outside the door and motioned her inside. Hallie stepped over the threshold and felt her courage waver.

Wes sat behind his big desk. The moment she walked in, his eyes met hers with a force that almost made her falter. A wave of terror rolled over her from scalp to toe, sending a sharp charge through her that made her bones shake.

The dark-haired giant behind the desk slowly came to his feet in a gesture of respect that caught her off guard. His dark eyes never left hers. His intensity sharpened and she had to fight not to glance away.

He was searching for something, seeking. Years of enduring her grandfather’s relentless search for vulnerability should have made her immune to this. It surprised her to feel so transparent, so threatened.

“Ms. Corbett.”

His low voice was as dark as bourbon and hit her insides with as much kick. The strange warmth that started somewhere in the region of her stomach and flowed outward disrupted her even more.

All at once, the painful emotions of the past few hours caught up with her and she struggled to shore up her nerve. If he would just look away from her a moment, allow her to recover, let her catch her breath.

“Thank you for seeing me.”

His intensity eased and his strong mouth curved in faint acknowledgment of what they both knew: Corbetts weren’t welcome on Red Thorn.

The hint of a smile softened his expression and oddly relaxed her a bit. It suggested that not every Corbett was unwelcome, that he’d perhaps withheld judgment in her case.

The moment she registered the impression, she discounted it. The enmity he must surely bear her grandfather and cousin would naturally be conferred on her. She’d be a fool to think otherwise.

Suddenly she was aware that he was sizing her up, that he’d used her momentary distraction to study her. But this time, his gaze dropped from her face and made a slow journey down her work shirt and jeans to her boots. The trip back was much slower.

No man had ever looked at her so thoroughly. Her first impulse was to cover herself, to hide. But she couldn’t seem to move. And she couldn’t keep from making the same long slow inventory of him.

Wes Lansing was easily over six feet tall. He was built like any other vital man who worked a ranch for a living, but somehow, broad-shouldered, narrow-hipped and well-muscled seemed an inadequate description. For a woman who rarely took note of the male physiques she worked next to each day, she was oddly compelled to note everything about him.

His face fascinated her. Below his dark, overlong hair, his features were rugged and harshly cut, hawkish and primitive. He might have been a homely man if he’d had less presence and if his face hadn’t been such a strong indicator of male character. His was a blunt, overpowering masculinity that made her feel fragile and feminine. It was a shocking reaction for a woman who’d rarely allowed herself to consider her femininity or to even think of herself in such precise terms.

Wes took his time. Hallie Corbett was a surprise. She was tall and slender, but she had the right amount of feminine charm in all the right places. Too right, if the heat that surged through his groin was a sign. She had a regal dignity, but there was a faint check in the way she held herself that suggested humility. And yet humility wasn’t it.

His gaze returned to her face and he saw the stain of embarrassment on her cheeks. Her long, dark hair was a thick, rich brown, and it was skinned back with a hair tie that smothered whatever lush waves it might have.

But it was her eyes that caught him. Again. They were a rare shade of blue somewhere between warm and cool, but deep, mysterious. And cautious. She was so guarded.

And she was unaware that he felt her unease. She would have hidden it from him if she’d guessed. He sensed that she hid everything. Considering the s.o.b. who’d raised her, he wasn’t surprised.

“You had a reason for coming to Red Thorn?”

His question sent fresh color into her cheeks. She started toward the desk. He noticed she didn’t take one of the wing chairs in front of it, but then, he hadn’t invited her to sit. It was rude of him, but it was also a test. Corbetts comported themselves as high holies born to rule and reign over lesser mortals.

Hallie Corbett stopped in front of the desk. She held a wad of folded papers in her hand—legal ones, from the look of them—and gripped them as if she thought they’d get away from her. It was plain she wouldn’t sit down unless invited.

Her voice was soft, but clear and distinct.

“I came to ask if you’re still interested in the parcel of land on the back corner of the Four C’s.”

Wes was instantly alert. That parcel of land, the site of the original Lansing homestead, had been stolen by the Corbetts in a land swindle and fought over for generations. Blood had been shed on both sides in the ownership dispute. Any number of Corbetts had sworn to never allow a Lansing to reclaim it.

“Is Hank offering it?” Wes was deliberately noncommittal. What interested him now was Hallie’s reaction. Had the quick shadow that crossed her face been a show of panic?

“No, sir.”

Though he was watching her face closely for a clue about why she’d come here and brought up the subject of the homestead, he saw nothing. Her features were now as blank as uncarved stone.

“Since Hank owns Four C’s and he’s not offering it, you and I’ve got nothing to talk about.”

Hallie’s gaze dropped from his. She unfolded the packet of papers. He sensed that the reason her slim, competent fingers were taking care to flatten the creases in the documents was because she was giving herself time to recover from his rebuff. It was also a delay.

She finished with the task and looked over at him. Her voice was the same clear, even and distinct tone that was evidence of how closely she guarded herself.

“You should have all the facts about ownership before you make that decision. I need to know if you want the parcel.”

It was a small showdown. A test of wills. He felt a spark of satisfaction. Hallie Corbett had a backbone behind all that mystery and guarded caution.

“Yes, Ms. Corbett, I’m interested in the parcel. Have a seat and tell me why you think you and I have anything to talk about.”

Hallie handed over the papers. She sat down in the chair and braced her elbows on the chair arms. She laced her fingers together and regarded him steadily as he sat down on the swivel chair behind his desk.

“If you’d read the highlighted section…”

Hallie let her voice trail off. She couldn’t bring herself to say more. The shame she felt was overwhelming suddenly. Why on earth had she ever thought Wes Lansing would marry her? He wasn’t the sort of man who’d ever consider marriage to someone like her, not even to get something he wanted. Unless he valued that land as much as she valued Four C’s, he’d find her situation laughable.

And when he laughed, then perhaps ridiculed her, it would be over. She’d withstand whatever he said or did, then make an escape that would be something only a little less dramatic than running away like a scalded dog. She’d go to Four C’s, pack her things, then indulge in a last farewell.

It could be over by nightfall. She’d get a room in town until Hank’s funeral, then be on her way to a new life far from the shame and pain and loss that were the only legacy she could ever claim here. Her eyes stung and she clenched her teeth together so hard that they hurt, but she’d claw her eyes out before she’d show tears to a Lansing or anyone else.

She focused on Wes’s face as he read the section, waiting for the moment he realized what the clause meant and what she was here to suggest.

While she watched his gaze sweep left to right and drop down line by line, she witnessed his stern expression evolve into harshness. She saw the hint of anger in the way the hard line of his mouth tightened. She’d figured him for a second read through, but his dark gaze shot up and arrowed into hers.

“What the hell kind of Will is this?”

She didn’t answer because she didn’t know what to say. “I’d like to inherit Four C’s, but I can’t meet the conditions. I thought you should be informed. In case—”

She cut herself off. She couldn’t bring herself to actually make the proposal. Suddenly she wanted to be anyplace but here. For once, the shame she was about to earn for herself seemed far more traumatic than losing the Four C’s.

“I hope you’ll pardon me, Mr. Lansing.” She got up and stepped to the desk. “You were right. We have nothing to discuss.”

She put out a hand for the papers. “I’ll be on my way.”

That last came out on a voiceless gust. Emotions she could barely contain came roaring up and it took everything she had to appear indifferent. “If I might have the papers?”

Wes’s gaze was riveted to hers, making it impossible to break contact. He ignored her request. “Do you trust Hank to honor this Will?”

Hallie withdrew her hand. He was angry, but it wasn’t directed at her. She kept silent as he went on.

“What will you do if he makes another one?”

Hallie fought to keep her gaze locked with his. “I’ve lived with him all my life, Mr. Lansing. I’m aware of the risk.”

“But you came here anyway.”

She could tell nothing from his harsh expression, but she didn’t detect scorn. And she was a master at that.

“I want Four C’s.”

“You’re crazy to think he’ll let you have it.”

The words sent a wave of shame through her. Even Hank Corbett’s enemies knew how little he thought of her.

“You came here for…what?”

A long moment dragged by as she debated what to say. She couldn’t bring herself to tell him outright that she’d come here with a marriage arrangement in mind.

“I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.”

Wes’s hard gaze was unrelenting. “How sick is he?”

“Terminal. He could die tonight or he could live a month. They moved him into Intensive Care late this morning.”

“D’you think your cousin would sell me the homestead?”

The question stung. Of course he’d pass over her and go straight to Candice. Perhaps he’d had second thoughts about her cousin. Candice was beautiful, and she’d soon be a fabulously wealthy heiress. The right man might be able to control her and Hallie sensed that if Wes Lansing couldn’t do it, it couldn’t be done. He might not be as immune to her cousin as she’d thought.

“She doesn’t care about Four C’s. I expect her to sell it at the first opportunity. You should be able to deal with the new owner.”

“But you can’t swear she’ll sell out.”

“You could buy the parcel from her.”

His stern mouth twisted. “With strings attached.”

“Then you understand Candice.”

Wes tossed the Will onto the desk and looked away from her. She started to reach for the papers, but his growl froze her midreach. “Leave ’em.”

“I need to be on my way,” she said quietly. It wouldn’t matter if the copy stayed here. The important thing now was to escape. Wes Lansing was simmering, and she had no desire to watch a boil over.

He glared across the desk at her. “So it comes down to a choice between you and Candice.” It wasn’t a question. His glare deepened as he nodded toward her chair. “Sit down. You started this, and by God, you’ll see it through.”

His harshness chilled her. Some faint stir of spirit made her resist. She’d allowed her pride to be trampled by her family all her life. She’d choked on the shreds so she could come to Red Thorn for this last chance. She’d be damned if she let Wes Lansing walk over the battered bits she had left.

“You can keep the Will. Throw it away. Thank you for your time.” She turned away from the desk, but she got only two steps before his hard voice stopped her in her tracks.

“You’ll not shame me.”

The terse words made her glance back at him. “What?”

His dark eyes were fiery and when he slowly stood, she got a frightening impression of power and iron will.

“I won’t stand up in front of a justice of the peace with a woman who’s dressed like a cowhand.”

Hallie turned fully toward him as the shock of what he’d said pounded at her. Surely she’d not heard right.

“We’ll fly to Vegas now and be married by tonight.” He’d made a decision and issued a decree. And in the spirit of old-time cattle kings, he expected instant obedience.

Maybe he didn’t understand the risk. To suddenly capitulate to her unspoken marriage proposal had to mean he didn’t take the hazard seriously.

“You were right the first time. Hank will never honor that Will. If he recovers from today’s setback and even suspects I’ve married, he’ll call his lawyer and change it. Then you’d be stuck with me.”