The Marriage Bargain. Susan Fox

      CHAPTER THREE

      HALLIE stood next to Wes as the elevator glided upward. She fidgeted with the hat, so distressed she could barely stand still. Because they were alone, Wes spoke.

      “Edna Murray is the biggest gossip in our part of Texas. She might not wait to get home to report this.”

      Hallie felt sick. Edna Murray was her punishment for taking vows in church that she knew she’d have to break. Now there was no hope of keeping their marriage secret until her grandfather passed away. Edna’s almost giddy, So, this is the end of the feud—how romantic! haunted her.

      The moment they reached their floor and the doors opened, Hallie rushed out. She got to their room several steps ahead of Wes, then had to wait for him to open the door. When he did, she started to go in, but he caught her arm. Her gaze flew to his.

      “Just a minute.”

      Before she realized what he intended, he leaned toward her, then swept her off her feet into his arms. She immediately tried to wiggle out of his hold.

      Though Hallie was strong for her lithe size, Wes’s easy strength made her feel fragile when he flexed his arms and held her firmly. He carried her over the threshold into their suite, then set her on her feet. Hallie stepped away from him as if she’d been burned.

      “Why did you do that?” She couldn’t take her eyes from his stern expression as she searched it for a clue to why he’d carried her in.

      “Now that we can’t hope to keep this marriage secret, we need to think about observing the traditions people expect.”

      Hallie shook her head. “No one could have seen what you just did.”

      Wes walked to the cabinet that concealed a small bar and opened the door. “They’ll see whether or not we live together on Red Thorn.”

      Hallie stared as a new horror presented itself. “I can’t live with you.”

      He glanced her way and his dark gaze went over her from head to foot before returning to her face.

      “How much pride have you got, Mrs. Lansing?

      He looked back to the cabinet and began to twist open the caps of four small bottles of whiskey, which he divided into two stout tumblers as he went on.

      “Now that we’ve been found out, do you want people to know this was a cold-blooded marriage of convenience to thwart your grandfather? Or would you rather they think it’s an impetuous marriage that somewhere down the line doesn’t work out?”

      Hallie stood stiffly as she stared at him in shock. He picked up the tumblers and carried them to her. She set her hat and handbag on the sofa table, then took the glass he pressed into her shaking hand.

      “Maybe you should sit down before you drink that.”

      She ignored the suggestion and hastily had a sip, then choked on the stinging liquid. Wes calmly watched her and had a taste of his own.

      “If Hank doesn’t last long enough to find out, I vote for letting people think what they choose, since we’ll both have what we married to get. That’ll come out right away when the will is read. Most folks have a poor opinion of Hank Corbett. When they find out about what he did to you with that Will, they’ll understand.”

      Hallie’s voice was still raspy from the harsh liquor. “And if he lives long enough to find out?”

      “Then, since he’d probably write you out of the will completely, I favor the look of a real marriage.”

      Her quiet, “So that’s why you asked about pride,” was barely audible. The way she said the word was no endorsement of it.

      “I’m not eager to be seen as a man who married a woman to get land, then cast her off the moment he found out she couldn’t give it to him. So we’ll give the look of a real marriage. Starting now.”

      “Maybe I don’t care what people think.” She had another quick sip of whiskey. It didn’t sting so much this time.

      “I think you do care. A lot. Why else have you kept yourself hidden away on Four C’s all this time if you weren’t afraid to find out what people think of you? And then there’s your charming cousin Candice.”

      His perception was painful, and she turned away with her drink. She was so rattled that she downed the rest of the whiskey and stood gripping the glass in both hands. “What makes you think you know so much?”

      “Because if it wasn’t true, you’d tell me so straight out. Instead, you challenged me.”

      The impression she got—that he could read her mind—made her feel exposed and vulnerable. At first, she thought it was panic that made her suddenly feel dizzy. But in the next second, she realized that the whiskey she’d downed so fast was already making itself felt.

      “I’m afraid…of a lot of things,” she found herself admitting.

      The terrible craving to let someone know her—the hope that she might reveal herself to another person and be liked—was suddenly close to the surface. And it was stronger with Wes than with anyone she’d ever met in her life. It terrified her to wonder what that meant.

      The memory of the somber little ceremony in the chapel came back to her. Something had happened when she’d made that vow. Somehow, some way, her heart had reached for something it needed and grabbed on hard.

      “I’ve made a terrible mistake.” Her voice trembled on the word. She’d not only lost her chance, she’d exposed the needs and desires and desperate hopes that she’d hidden from herself and everyone else all her life. These few hours with Wes had done that, and she was suddenly overwhelmed by it all.

      The next thing she knew, Wes had moved beside her and was taking the empty glass from her hands. He set it on the sofa table along with his own. He took her arm and started to lead her to a chair.

      “You need to sit down.”

      The warm sensuality that bloomed at his touch spread through her like syrup. She pulled away, but stepped wrong on the narrow heel of her shoe and faltered. Wes caught her arm to steady her. She braced a hand on his chest, then jerked it away, dismayed by the hard warmth beneath her palm.

      “I need to go to bed,” she got out, but when she tried to pull from him again, another bout of dizziness made her awkward.

      “Maybe you do.” And then he was leading her to her bedroom, his easy strength leaving her no choice but to let him have his way.

      She managed to pull free once they were in the bedroom and he got her to the bed. She was so anxious to escape his warm grip—to escape her reaction to it—that she took a wary step away. The edge of the mattress brushed the backs of her legs and brought her to a halt.

      “You can sleep alone tonight,” he said, “but that’ll have to change when we get back to Texas.”

      “I don’t like that you’re…taking over.” The words came out in an uneven rush. Her eyes felt abnormally round as she looked up into his stern expression to watch for any signal that he might touch her again. His dark