Terms of a Texas Marriage

“She—” Alec heard Thomas Long swallow hard on that one. “My God! How much more does she want?”

“She says she doesn’t want money. She wants the land. I believe, in her mind, she’s telling the truth. She honestly thinks she can pull this off and make me back down. Unfortunately for her, I’ve committed to building this entertainment complex. The investors are already on board. I’m down several million and we haven’t yet poured the first foundation. There is no turning back at this point.”

“How about we try to find other land alternatives. I could put out some feelers...”

“A friend who specializes in real estate spent almost a year doing just that. I originally wanted to build in the East. He checked land possibilities within a hundred-mile radius of every major city near a natural waterway from New York to Florida. We encountered zoning restrictions, municipal politics, arbitrary city codes, small town gluttony. He found a two-thousand-acre tract just outside Cincinnati, but the deed was in probate. There was a five-thousand-acre tract in Virginia, but it was so far removed from civilization I didn’t want to take the chance it might be too far.

“This location is perfect. A little farther west than I initially wanted, but it’s actually working out even better than the original plan. It’s centrally located in the US, only fifty miles from the Dallas-Ft. Worth International Airport and it borders the Red River.”

Alec had already purchased land directly across the state line in Oklahoma and had most of the permits for that side of the river. “I’ve spent weeks restructuring blueprints to meet local building codes, obtaining land surveys for two states and finally have received a clearance from the EPA over some near-extinct bird they thought nested nearby. I refuse to spend any more time or money trying to find equivalent land just so Ms. Hardin can continue to raise her cows. Give me a few days, a couple of weeks at best, and I’ll have her out of here.”

“Okay.” There was a moment of silence while Thomas, no doubt, regrouped. “What about a prenup? You’re potentially handing this woman a key to a very large door. Your bank accounts alone...” Thomas paused. “I’ll have a basic agreement drawn up and sent to you in—”

“No thanks, Thomas.”

“No? Alec—”

“We’ve already had this discussion. She refused.”

Another stunned silence. “Then don’t marry her. Let her have the damn land. Even considering how much you’ve sunk into the project, it isn’t worth a fraction of your other holdings. Alec—”

“Thomas, look, I appreciate your concern. But I honestly feel if it should come down to a divorce petition for any of my current assets, the bizarre reason for the marriage—my being forced to take this route in order to regain the use of my own land—would supersede any claim.”

“But we can’t know that for sure.”

How could he explain to Thomas his gut instinct said this would not be a problem? There was something about Shea Hardin, some glimmer of truth deep in those blue eyes. Nothing he’d seen gave him any reason to suspect she wanted any more than her ranch.

“I don’t intend to remain married for one millisecond longer than absolutely necessary. In less time than it would take to battle this out, I intend to have her bags packed and be helping little Miss Tradition out the door. Then a simple annulment, give her something for her trouble, and it’s done.”

He’d been challenged by opponents a lot tougher than Shea Hardin and had come out on top. He grimaced at his own expression. Hell, in truth, on top of her was exactly where he wanted to be. He sensed the blood congregate in his loins at the mental picture and cursed his weakness. He had to keep his focus on the reason he was here and stop letting his imagination run wild.

Alec intentionally changed the subject. “I need you to call Valturego. See if he’s ready to sign the contract for the construction of his casino. I’ll contact him when I get back in the office.”

“I’ll call as soon as we’re finished,” Thomas promised. “But, Alec, back to the prenup thing—”

“Did Rolston sign the revised contract?”

Thomas grudgingly took the hint and began explaining the outcome of his meeting with the banker.

When their business concluded, Alec tossed his cell on the bed in the small motel room and glanced at the digital clock on the nightstand. After six. He probably should start getting ready.

The last time he’d taken vows, there had been more than fifteen hundred invited guests—some he’d known, most he hadn’t. The planning had gone on for months. The fragrance from thousands of flowers had permeated the air, almost overwhelming the guests who’d gathered in the enormous church. He could remember the aura of hushed excitement that had filled the large sanctuary in anticipation of the spectacle to come.

Sondra had wanted it all and she had been relentless in making her desires come true. In hindsight, he should have seen what was coming. He should have picked up on the clues. She’d loved to party and her actions had made him suspect she’d crossed the line as far as using drugs. But he hadn’t been able to prove it, had never found any evidence, and he’d never known about the other man until the day he came home and found the note. No excuses. No apologies. A strange woman waiting outside his door handed him a baby and said it was his. Suddenly he was alone with an infant son. A month later, Alec learned she’d died of an overdose. The man she’d left him to be with supposedly had provided the pills.

In the years since, the anger over her betrayal had diminished, but the lesson she’d taught him about trust had reshaped his character and would always be foremost in his mind. He’d sworn he would never again make the mistake of marrying. Anyone. For any reason. For almost five years, he’d kept that resolution. But in less than an hour, he would once again stand in front of a minister and make a pledge to love, honor and obey, and this time to a woman he knew nothing about.

Shea Hardin was a total perplexity. She didn’t fit into any mold he’d ever come across. At first, he’d believed she was one of the members of Gold Diggers Anonymous he frequently encountered. But if those initial suspicions were correct, she was better than average at setting a trap, because he’d certainly taken the bait. She came across as completely sincere, candid and unwavering in her determination to keep the land.

She was a walking contradiction—intelligent yet naive, beautiful but unsophisticated, sexy as hell yet seemingly innocent. She looked fragile, sensitive, as though her poise and conviction could easily be shattered. But after today, he had the solid impression she was about as fragile as an oak tree, her temper as controlled as a glass vile of nitroglycerin.

She challenged him. She fascinated him.

And she had the most amazing blue eyes he’d ever seen.

Then there was her mouth—full lips that could give a man all kinds of grief, all kinds of pleasure. He’d almost kissed her in the attorney’s office, drawing back at the last minute as he realized he wouldn’t have wanted to stop with a single kiss.

No, his problem would not be intimidating Shea Hardin. It would be keeping himself from taking her while he did so.

* * *

Shea stood in front of her closet later that afternoon, staring at the few dresses hanging inside. Rarely was there any need for her to wear anything other than casual ranch attire and therefore her options were severely limited. She removed a simple paisley dress from the closet and held it in front of her as she viewed her reflection in the full-length mirror. Somehow, it didn’t seem right.

She replaced it and reached for another. Wrong style. She bit her lip as she removed a dark green suit from the closet. Not right either. Red? Nope. Black? An impish grin crossed her face at the picture that would create. Quelling the urge, she hung the dress back in the closet and shook her head in frustration. There was no time to go shopping. Under the circumstances she should probably just pull on a clean pair of jeans and be done with it.

Thinking back on her day, she couldn’t believe how fast everything had fallen into place for this wedding. Old Doc Hardy had done the blood work on the spot and Jane Simmons at the courthouse had gotten Judge Lamb to push the license through without the three-day wait. It was as unbelievable as her reason for being there.

Suddenly the mirror’s reflection caught the motion of a large ball of orange fur as Pumpkin, the old tomcat, jumped onto the cedar chest that sat at the foot of her bed. She spun around and looked at the chest in speculation. Instantly memories of her childhood came rushing back. Memories of her as a little girl standing on top of the chest, trying to be tall enough so she could wear the long silky white dress her mother kept inside. It had been years since she’d reflected on the chest and its contents. On a whim, she set a disgruntled Pumpkin on the floor and then moved the miscellaneous items on top of the chest. A mild scent of cedar permeated the air around her as she raised the lid.

On top were pillowcases, handkerchiefs and small hand towels, their borders bearing floral designs embroidered by her mother. With a regretful smile, Shea set the linens aside. Underneath were two handmade quilts, their colors still amazingly crisp. She noted a date sewn into the corner of one: “A.H.—1812”. Her great-grandmother must have made them. Maybe even her grandmother before that. She placed them on the floor next to the linens.

Kneeling over the now half-empty chest, she removed several more layers of tissue paper. Suddenly, there it was, and just as she remembered. Her mother’s wedding gown. She rose to her feet as she lifted it out of the chest.

The material was an off-white satin. The years had slightly darkened the creamy color, but time couldn’t diminish its simple elegance. The high, Victorian-style neckline, enhanced by delicate lace, covered the bodice and shoulders. Tiny pearl buttons ran down the full length of the gown with a matching row of buttons on each sleeve from the wrist to the elbow.

Tears stung her eyes as she was suddenly overcome with longing for the mother she’d never really known. She gently touched the delicate lace. Should she dare risk tarnishing the memory of her mother’s wedding day by wearing it to the marital atrocity about to take place? But the thought of putting it back in the trunk and closing the lid didn’t feel right. Something urged her to try it on.

Some ten minutes later, she stepped in front of the mirror and almost didn’t recognize her reflection. The gown fit perfectly. Its simple style subtly created an aura of poise and sophistication as it gracefully cascaded to the floor.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth. Sadly, she wished hers would be a genuine marriage, one based on love and respect with hopes for a future. Not a contractual stipulation with an arrogant stranger.

Alec Morreston would no doubt have a good laugh if she appeared in a wedding gown. He’d be convinced she was every kind of crazy. She chewed her bottom lip. When she walked into the room for the ceremony would she feel like a total and complete fool? Circumstances being what they were, it probably was an idiotic idea. Still, a woman got married for the first time only once in her life. Right or wrong, this was it.

There was also the chance Morreston might think she was trying to play him and raise his guard, which could make getting rid of him more difficult. She let out a frustrated sigh. Wearing her mother’s gown was fulfilling a dream she’d carried since childhood. If he laughed, why should she care? Let him scoff all he wanted, the hateful man.

“You know what, Pumpkin? Bizarre or not, this is my wedding day. I’m going to do it.” As soon as she uttered the words, she knew she was making the right decision. There would be just enough time to freshen the dress before Morreston and the Reverend Shultz arrived.

But first, she needed to have a talk with Hank Minton, the ranch foreman. Quickly, she undressed, placed the gown on the bed and then pulled on a pair of jeans before heading for the main barn.

Four (#ulink_b5630299-1a5f-514c-98e1-e1c7cc04eb3e)

“Do you, William Alec Morreston, take this woman as your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health?”

Shea’s head swam. This couldn’t be happening. Perhaps if she blinked her eyes fast enough she would awaken from the nightmare.

Standing next to her in the old-fashioned parlor, Alec responded to the Reverend Schultz’s questions with the reverence and sincerity of a man who was marrying the woman of his dreams. Raising her hand to his lips, he briefly kissed her fingers after slipping the diamond-encrusted wedding ring he’d purchased that afternoon onto the third finger of her left hand.

After the license had been issued at City Hall, Alec had insisted she accompany him to the town jewelry store to pick out rings. He’d ignored her suggestion that they use Band-Aids. In the shop she’d refused to voice any opinion whatsoever, seeing the sparkling gold-and-diamond jewelry as miniature handcuffs intended only as a psychological reminder that she would be shackled to the obstinate man for a year. Less, if she had her way about it, but even one day would be too much.