An Arranged Marriage

Blue watched Allison’s arrival from one of the unfinished guest rooms on the second floor of his new house. The woman was the very soul of femininity. From the shiny crown of her shoulder-length blond hair to the toes of her high heels, Allison Lancaster was petite, refined and as elegant as royalty.

The white linen dress she was wearing with the matching handbag and shoes probably cost more than the profit he’d made in any year of his life prior to striking oil. He couldn’t imagine what her gold earrings, necklace or watch cost. All he knew was that now he could buy her hundreds of necklaces and watches and matching outfits, and never feel the slightest loss.

The prideful thought sent a breath of unease through him. Allison Lancaster was quality. She was used to the best. He could buy her the best—hell, he could snap his fingers and lay anything she wanted at her feet.

Anything except a gentleman husband.

The reminder chafed his pride and dimmed some of the pleasure he felt at the sight of her. But he’d learned that a man didn’t have to be a gentleman to get what he wanted in this life. Not if he had money. And not if he was ruthless.

Blue turned away from the window and stalked from the room.

Allison hesitated just outside the open double doors at the front of the huge house, loathe to walk into the place unannounced. Though her uncle had told her that Blue had invited her to meet him there, good manners and caution prevented her from behaving with too much familiarity.

A short, wiry man appeared in the doorway. “You must be Miz Lancaster,” he declared, then motioned her toward the door. “Mr. Sumner’s waitin’ for you inside.”

Allison managed a stiff smile and started forward, her nerves jumping with tension and suspense. Once inside the huge entry hall, the man shouted a loud, “Noon break, boys, let’s clear out,” that startled her.

In a surprisingly brief time, workers came from every direction and swiftly exited the house. “Mr. Sumner’ll be along directly, miss,” the man told her before he, too, ducked out the front door.

Allison looked toward the windows and saw that the workers were all moving in the direction of the ranch buildings she’d seen earlier. The idea that they might be going all the way to the new cookhouse for lunch increased her nervousness. Suddenly the big house seemed quite isolated from the rest of the ranch headquarters. Uneasy with the notion of being alone with Blue, Allison glanced nervously toward the open doors.

The deep, rough drawl that echoed in the large, empty rooms gave her no time to make a graceful exit.

“I’m obliged to you for comin’ out.”

Allison jumped at the sound of the man’s voice and couldn’t help that she whirled to face him.

Blue Sumner’s hard gaze seemed to swallow her whole as he came toward her. She suddenly had the impression that he saw everything about her, including the light shiver that raised tiny goose bumps on her arms.

At well over six foot, Blue was a big man—lean, powerfully built, with overlong black hair that dragged on his collar and a harsh, weather-tanned face that proclaimed him a man equal to the elements. The deep blue of his eyes beneath his hat brim met hers with blunt force, the hard sparkle in their depths no-nonsense and faintly dangerous. With his black Stetson, chambray shirt, worn Levi’s and boots, all it would take was a six-gun strapped to his lean hips to make him look like an old-time gunslinger/outlaw.

Another shiver, this one deep down, sent a virtual earthquake of awareness through her as he came to a halt less than an arm’s length away. Blue Sumner was more blatantly male than any man she’d ever come in contact with, and suddenly everything female in her reacted with a shocking mixture of attraction and feminine fear.

She was still staring, a bit dazed, when one corner of his hard mouth turned up in a curve that was un-amused. Just that quickly, she realized how rudely she was behaving and forced a faint smile while she made an effort to recover.

“I was…surprised at the invitation to meet you here, Mr. Sumner,” she began with painful formality.

He stared at her with a piercing, see-it-all intensity that made her want to squirm. “The invitation surprised you,” he stated, his voice low and a bit rough. “What about the marriage proposal?”

“The proposal…troubled me,” she admitted unsteadily. “I thought we might clear things up if I came out to have a word with you.”

She really did mean to go about this as kindly as possible. Uncle Charles believed that having Blue Sumner’s money in his bank was crucial to the bank’s survival, so she didn’t dare offend the man. And, no matter how tough and hard and macho he seemed, she had no wish to insult his pride or hurt his feelings. She could not, however, marry a stranger or a man she didn’t love, no matter how rich he was.

When Blue continued to stare at her, his gaze moving over her face as if he were examining her every feature in minute detail, Allison felt her breath go thin. But when that gaze lowered to make a leisurely chin to toe tour that lingered almost indecently on every curve, her heart nearly stopped.

In the next second, hot color flooded her face. That was the same second Blue’s assessing gaze lifted to meet hers.

“Then you don’t want to marry me.” The statement was delivered in a surprisingly quiet voice. A quiet voice quite at odds with the tension she sensed about him suddenly.

Instinct warned her to be careful. She didn’t know the man and didn’t know anyone who did. Blue Sumner had not only never been a part of her aunt and uncle’s social circle, but he didn’t seem to have socialized with anyone in town. She’d heard gossip about him, his newfound wealth and what he was doing with his money, but she knew nothing personal about the man, aside from the fact that he was now the most sought-after bachelor in the area.

Allison made herself give a faint smile. “I don’t know you, Mr. Sumner.”

The tension in him seemed to ease at her soft reply. His gravelly, “There’s a remedy for that,” and his step toward her made her stiffen, though she managed to stand her ground.

Blue’s eyes narrowed fractionally on her face as if he’d sensed how close she was to bolting. He reached for her bent elbow so smoothly and suddenly that she didn’t have time to evade his touch.

The feel of his callus-rough fingers closing so firmly on her arm sent a shower of wild tingles over her skin. Reflexively Allison pulled back, but Blue’s gentle grip kept her close. The smallest tug brought her that next step nearer, and Allison couldn’t help that her free hand came up and landed on his shirtfront.

The blue cotton was hot to the touch, heated by the warm flesh of the man who wore it. Beneath her fingers, Blue’s heart thudded at a steady pace while hers raced out of control. And now that she was staring up into his rugged, handsome face, she felt her knees weaken and begin to tremble.

Blue didn’t miss a flicker of Allison’s changeable facial expressions. Surprise, wariness, attraction, fear—not exactly the acceptance and desire he wanted to see when she looked at him. But that little hand pressed against his chest directly over his heart felt like the business end of a branding iron. Though she didn’t mean it at all, somehow she was setting a mark on him.

“I’d like to show you the house,” he said gruffly, easing back so her hand would fall away. He didn’t release his gentle hold on her elbow, however, until they started out of the entry hall to begin their tour.

Allison was relieved when Blue’s firm grip went slack and she was able to casually move her arm away. Normally, courtesy would have made her submit to this tour of his home. But courtesy had nothing to do with giving herself this time to recover her wits.

She could still feel the warm imprint of his fingers on her skin, was still trembling with the excitement his touch had set off. Finding her hand pressed to his chest—a gesture that seemed quite intimate—had shaken her. Even the occasional meeting of their gazes as they walked through the huge home sent little bolts of sexual awareness through her.

Desperate to distract herself, Allison looked around, making herself focus on each room and ask appropriate questions. She didn’t have to force herself to admire the big house. The main floor boasted the large entry hall with an open staircase to the second floor, a living room, dining room, den, small parlor, family room, a vast kitchen and a double suite of rooms for a live-in cook and housekeeper.

The second floor featured a master suite with an old-fashioned nursery connected and a walk-in closet easily half as large as the master bedroom. There were six other bedrooms and another small suite of rooms near the back stairs for a butler.

Allison couldn’t help her curiosity. “A butler?”

Blue’s gaze met hers, then ricocheted away. “Was invited to a house party in Dallas where they had a butler. I admired the order of the house he kept.”

They ended in the spacious kitchen downstairs. “The decorator’s planned out for curt—er, window treatments and carpets,” Blue told her as he leaned back against a counter, his arms crossed over his chest, “but you can meet with her tomorrow to see if you approve.”

He ignored her startled look and went on. “You can pick the furniture, just so our bed or anything I have to use isn’t fussy or womanish. Or white, since I’m still a rancher and always will be.”

Allison stared in mild shock as he casually laid out his plan for her to meet with his decorator and furnish his home. She’d been hoping that sometime during the tour he’d come to his senses and realize what folly it was for either of them to take his marriage proposal seriously.

Instead, submitting to the tour seemed to have signaled to him some measure of her consent. Allison shook her head. “Mr. Sumner—please understand. As flattering as your proposal is, I can’t possibly marry you.”

The hard gaze he leveled on her made her uneasy. “Not good enough, huh?”

It took her a moment to recover from the blunt question. And a moment more to register the flash of emotion behind the words.

“Good enough has nothing to do with my refusal, Mr. Sumner. We don’t know each other,” she emphasized with gentle candor.

“And if we knew each other?”

The question unsettled her and Allison fought to suppress her sudden, secret reaction to the idea as she tried to give him a calm answer.

“We could know each other well and still not have the kind of love a marriage requires. I can’t marry a man I’m not in love with. And I don’t think you’d truly be happy marrying a woman you aren’t in love with, either.”

“Love…” The cynical gleam in his gaze chided her. “Love’s nothing more than a rush of lust and hormones that fools mistake for sentiment. Soon as the lust is satisfied, the hormones settle. That’s when those same fools think they’ve fallen out of love.” His faint emphasis mocked the word.