by Jeanne Allan
Rancher's Bride
By
Jeanne Allan
Contents
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
Dallas couldn't marry him.
"How can we even consider marrying, the way we feel about each other?" she asked, shaking her head. "What kind of environment would that be for Nicky? Pretending to be husband and wife even if only for a few months."
Clay stood at the window, staring out. "Make no mistake about it—this would be no pretend or temporary marriage. We'd stay married as long as Nicky needed us." He turned. "How old are you?"
Her eyes widened in surprise. "Twenty-four."
"And I'm thirty-one. Too young to find the prospect of a celibate marriage acceptable."
"Surely you don't mean us? Me and you—?" She broke off, the growing darkness of his eyes warning her she was on dangerous ground…
Jeanne Allan lived in Nebraska, where she was born and raised, until her marriage to a United States Air Force lieutenant. More than a dozen moves have taken them to Germany and ten different states. Between moves, Jeanne spent time as a volunteer. With her two teenage children, she enjoys nature walks, bird-watching and photography at the family's cabin in the Colorado mountains, and she enjoys all kinds of crafts, including making stained-glass windows. She has always liked to write, but says her husband had to bully her into writing her first romance novel.
Jeanne Allan was named Romance Writer of the Year for 1989 by the Rocky Mountain Fiction Writers.
Books by Jeanne Allan
HARLEQUIN ROMANCE
2665—PETER'S SISTER
2845—WHEN LOVE FLIES BY
2875—THE WAITING HEART
2899—THE GAME IS LOVE
2935—TRUST IN LOVE
2989—ONE RECKLESS MOMENT
3073—BLUEBIRDS IN THE SPRING
3121—NO ANGEL
Original hardcover edition published in 1990
by
Mills & Boon Limited
ISBN 0-373-03175-0
Harlequin Romance first edition February 1992
RANCHER'S BRIDE
Copyright © 1990 by Jeanne Allan.
CHAPTER ONE
'You're getting married?' Dallas blinked. Clay Dalton did not disappear. He was still sitting in her living-room as much at ease as if he had flown all the way to Alexandria, Virginia merely to have tea. 'I didn't know… Alanna never mentioned…'
'It was a sudden decision.'
'Why fly all the way out here to tell me?'
'Nicky.'
Dallas burrowed into her favourite chair, seeking comfort from the soft, silken cushions that enveloped her. Kicking off her shoes, she curled her legs beneath her, conscious of mud-splattered stockings and a chill that was caused by more than the weather. Clay lounged on the low sofa across from her, his long legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. He was the image of a highly successful businessman in the well-tailored suit that clothed his tall, lean body. It was the stark contrast of tanned, leathery skin against a white shirt collar that betrayed his outdoor occupation. Squint lines radiated from blue eyes that were darker than the narrow stripes in his fashionable shirt.
She'd spotted him the minute she'd turned the corner and started up the slight incline towards her town house. Worry for Nicky had immediately leaped into her mind. 'You said Nicky was all right,' she reminded him now.
'She is. At the moment.'
Fear clutched at Dallas's heart, and then she realised what Clay was doing. 'Scare tactics won't force me to back down. I happen to believe that Nicky would be better off with me.'
'You think the judge would agree with you? A single woman,' he glanced at his watch, 'who works long hours and comes home looking as if making a cup of hot tea would be too much effort for her, much less cooking a healthy dinner and dealing with an active six-year-old. Look at yourself.'
'I know how I look. It happens to be raining out.' She'd forgotten an umbrella this morning, and her hair was plastered against her face from the chill February rain. Even her bones ached with exhaustion, but not because of the dreary day. The morning in court had done that. If she wasn't so depressed, she might find some irony in the situation. Dallas Wyatt coolly testifying in a custody case. Easy enough to remain cool when the participants weren't your own flesh and blood. Her gaze locked with Clay's. He was studying her, disapproval written on his face. 'Don't tell me you flew all the way from Colorado just to get my blessing.'
Clay straightened up, his eyes narrowing slightly at her sarcastic tone. 'No? You don't care who Nicky's future mother is going to be?'
Dallas gripped the arms of the chair. 'Alanna left Nicky to me. She said so in her will. I always promised her if anything happened to her…' She swallowed hard, unable to go on.
Clay ran his fingers through his dark brown hair. 'And Kyle named me in his will as guardian of his daughter if his wife predeceased him.'
'But you don't know that she did. Kyle might have died first. They were both dead by the time they were found.' She glared across the room at Clay. 'I intend to fight you in the courtroom, and I intend to win.'
'Damn it, Dallas, listen to me.' A muscle twitched in his clenched jaw. 'In Colorado a judge is not bound by the wishes of deceased parents. He'll take them under consideration, of course, but his primary goal is to protect the minor child, and he'll do whatever he finds to be in her best interest. And this particular judge's reputation is well known. He's dead set against single parents. I don't imagine that a single woman who arrives home after six o'clock at night is going to favourably impress him.'
'And you will? A bachelor?' Disconcerting titbits from Alanna's letters appeared in her mind with startling clarity: Clay's hedonistic style of living, his partying, his women.
Clay abruptly changed the subject. 'You know my mother died when I was ten.'
Dallas nodded. 'Alanna told me.' Clay's mother had been out riding alone and for some reason had dismounted and tied her horse to an old wooden fence. Apparently something had frightened the horse, a snake perhaps, and the horse had reared up, taking part of the fence with him. In his frenzy, he'd flung the attached board around, breaking his own leg and striking Mrs Dalton in the head, killing her instantly. Dallas felt sure that this latest tragedy had brought back to Clay his own sorrow when his mother had died. She felt her way hesitantly. 'You're admitting that Nicky needs a woman around.'
'Yesterday I went into the house before lunch and found her sitting on the stairs. She was sucking her thumb and simply staring off into space. The most pathetic, loneliest-looking child I've ever seen. That's when I decided.' He brushed off one knee of his trousers. 'To ask you to marry me.'
'Me? Marry you? You must be joking.'
'I couldn't be more serious.'
'Why me?'
'There isn't anyone else.'
The brutally honest reply stung. 'How romantic,' she mocked softly. 'Does this mean that you're not going down on bended knee?' Her hands curled into fists. Did he really think that she'd leap to do his bidding? 'The answer is no.'
Clay stood up. 'I can see that reasoning with you would be a waste of time.' His nostrils flared in anger. 'I don't know why I bothered to come, but I made the mistake of thinking that you care about Nicky.' He stalked down the hall and grabbed his coat.
'Clay, wait.' Dallas was on her feet. 'All right. I don't like you, but I love Nicky. For her sake, I'll listen.' When his face showed no signs of relenting, she said, 'Please. At least admit that your idea came as a shock.'
; Clay tossed his coat on the floor. 'After the funeral, I swore I wouldn't speak to you again unless I was forced to in court.'
'What changed your mind?' She sank back into her chair. 'For heaven's sake, sit down and quit looming over me.'
Clay lowered his body into the chair across from her. 'Nicky. I'm almost positive that marrying anyone would give me the edge over you in court, but—'
'But you don't want to take that chance.'
'You love Nicky and she knows you. Anyone else would be a stranger. Maybe the wicked stepmother is a myth, but Nicky has suffered too much for me to gamble on her happiness.'
'Wicked stepmother…' The echoed words trailed off. Stunned by the unwelcome picture that Clay had painted, Dallas shook her head helplessly. 'I couldn't bear it if Nicky… it was hard enough when the judge gave you temporary custody so she wouldn't have to move right away. At least I knew you loved her. Surely you wouldn't marry someone who…'
'Marry me and the question doesn't arise,' Clay said impatiently. 'We can fly out to Las Vegas and get married and be home before the case comes to court.'
'But it's wrong. Dishonest.'
'What's dishonest about it? People get married for all kinds of reasons. Providing a home for Nicky, giving her a loving mother is as important as any of them. Nicole Dalton carries my brother's genes, my blood. I'll fight for her happiness in every way I can.' He looked at her, his eyes dark with suppressed emotion. 'And if that means marrying you, then, so help me, I'll do it. Whether you want to or not.'
'You can't force me.' Her voice came out a defiant squeak as Clay sprang from his chair.
'It was all just talk, wasn't it? You don't want Nicky.' He ignored her denial. 'If I married the first woman I met on the street she'd probably be a better mother to Nicky than you would. I knew you were tainted with the same blood as Alanna, but she, at least, cared for Nicky.'
'So do I! I love her! But my job, my…' She shrank back at the look of contempt on Clay's face.
'You just keep telling yourself how much you love her. And hope your dreams won't be disturbed by the cries of a little girl you abandoned because you were all talk and no heart.'
The panicky sensation of being swept headlong into a raging maelstrom flooded over her. She sensed that Clay would be a relentless adversary. 'It's not fair,' she managed.
Clay was pacing the length of her living-room, and he turned at her protest. 'Fair? Is it fair that my mother died when I was only ten? Is it fair that Nicky's parents were killed in an automobile accident? Is it fair that I lost my only brother?' He smacked his fist against the back of her sofa. 'Is it fair that I'm forced to marry a woman I don't like simply to provide for my niece?'
His harsh words convinced her of the utter insanity of his plan. She couldn't marry him. Slowly she shook her head. 'How can we even consider marrying the way we feel about each other? What kind of environment would that be for Nicky? Two people who dislike each other living in the same house. Pretending to be man and wife, even for a few months…'
Clay stood at the window, staring out into the black night. 'Make no mistake about it. If you agree to my proposal, this would be no pretend or temporary marriage. We'd stay married as long as Nicky needs us.' He turned. 'How old are you?'
Her eyes opened wide in surprise. 'Twenty-five.'
'And I'm thirty-one. Too young to find the prospect of a celibate marriage agreeable.'
'Surely you don't mean…us? Me and you? I mean, there must be other women… I wouldn't expect you to give up—' She broke off, the growing darkness of his eyes warning her she was on dangerous ground.
'Are you proposing that I take a mistress?'
The contempt in his voice made her feel an awkward fifteen again. 'Yes—no—I don't care. It has nothing to do with me.'
Clay uttered a harsh laugh. 'You have an odd notion of marriage.'
'We're not getting married. Even if I did consider your ridiculous idea, a marriage of convenience…' She swallowed the rest of her sentence as Clay stood in front of her.
He pulled her from the chair. 'There would be nothing convenient about it,' he said, scowling at her as his fingers bit into the soft flesh of her upper arms. 'But, since you're so concerned about the proper environment for Nicky, ask yourself what kind of family life we would have if I spent all my evenings tom-catting around.'
Her skin burned beneath his touch. 'The whole idea of our getting married is ludicrous enough, without… that.'
'Is it?' Clay encircled her waist and imprisoned her chin with his free hand. The glint of anger in his blue eyes hinted at emotions held under tight control.
A shiver of fear ran up her spine. His determination frightened her while his overwhelming masculinity engulfed her. Her body was too aware of his. She must not allow him to overpower her common sense. 'Two people who intensely dislike each other… I couldn't possibly consider sleeping with you.'
The arm at her waist tightened. 'No? I was thinking maybe that part of our marriage wouldn't be such a sacrifice.'
Her stomach plummeted to her knees at the sensual tone in his voice. 'It would be for me,' she managed to say.
Clay thrust his fingers into her hair, forcing her to lean back against his arm at her waist, a movement that pressed her hips against his. The awkward stance strained her neck as he studied her face, his fingers pressing deep into her scalp. 'Let's see about that, shall we?' he muttered against her lips, and then his mouth closed over hers. Dallas stiffened, but before she could draw away Clay set out on a voyage of gentle exploration, nibbling her lips with his teeth and tracing the contours of her mouth with his tongue.
Dallas knew Clay's kiss was a calculated move to impose his will upon her, but the heat which flooded her body from the intimate contact undermined her will to resist him. She slid her hands up his chest, her fingers curling around his neck. He increased the pressure on her mouth until her lips parted before his searching tongue. Their mingled breathing was harsh in the silent room, and Clay's masculine scent filled her nostrils. His hands roamed over her back, tracing her spine. Heat spread throughout her body, sending a fevered flush to the surfaces of her skin and collecting in a molten pool deep within her.
Clay lifted his lips from hers. 'Well.' He cleared his throat. 'Now that we've settled that, how soon can you be ready to move?'
Dallas tore herself from his embrace, furious with herself for succumbing to such a blatant seduction. If only she hadn't gratified Clay with her response. To hide her mortification, she lashed out at him. 'We didn't settle anything. The kiss changes nothing. Marriage between us is out of the question. You hated Alanna, and I can't forgive Kyle for making the last days of her life miserable. You look at me and see Alanna. And I…'
'Look at me and see Kyle.'
'No,' she half whispered. 'I look at you and see a man who closed his eyes to his brother's behaviour. Behaviour that was obviously a cry for help.'
Clay paled beneath his tan. 'And now you hate me so much that you're willing to sacrifice Kyle's daughter.'
'No! Let her live with me.'
'If you want her, you'll have to marry me. Yes or no?'
Dallas knew that she was as white as Clay. How could she answer when her mind was numb? 'I—I can't.' Tears built up in her throat and her mouth wobbled. Refusing to look at him, she slowly shook her head. 'I'm sorry.' She felt the instant chill as he moved away from her.
'I'm sorry, too. I shouldn't have come. Marrying me would mean a tremendous sacrifice on your part. You'd have to give up your job, your home, your friends—disrupt your entire life for someone else's child. It's too much to ask of a woman. Goodbye, Dallas.'
His footsteps rang loudly as he crossed the wooden floor in the hall, but not as loudly as the words he'd spoken rang in Dallas's ears. She stirred uneasily. What was she doing? Selfishly allowing her own private concerns to take precedence over the life and happiness of a child who'd never harmed a soul. Nicky. Sweet, innocent Nicky. How could she stand there and fault Cla
y for refusing to help his brother when she was refusing to help Nicky? 'All right,' she said. 'I'll marry you.'
Clay stopped, his hand on the door. 'Are you sure?' he asked over his shoulder.
'No.'
He gave a short laugh and turned. 'You're honest anyway. What made you change your mind?'
Fear of the drastic step she had just promised to take goaded her into an angry reply. 'Not your patronising male chauvinism. I'm capable of sacrificing just as much as you are, even if I am a woman.'
'I wasn't issuing a challenge.'
'Weren't you?' She waved off his answer. 'Never mind. It doesn't matter.' She drew a shaky breath. 'I need a drink. I cooked beef burgundy last week— there's some wine left.'
Glass in hand, Clay toasted her. 'To the blushing bride.'
Dallas's hand tightened around the stem of her glass. Cold reality struck her. She was actually going to marry this man—for real. Not in some cardboard facsimile of marriage. He expected her to join with him in a union of the most intimate kind. Would he expect to stay with her tonight? Courage fled. 'Clay, I—'
A rough finger pressed against her mouth. 'Don't back out now.'
'I wasn't. I—'
'Good.' Clay drained his glass and set it on the table. He pulled a small notebook from his pocket. 'I made some notes on the plane flying out here.'
'Were you so sure of me?'
'I was sure of your love for Nicky.'
A bitter suspicion took root in Dallas's mind. Clay had known all along which buttons were the right ones to push. He'd never intended to leave Virginia without her consent to his proposition. She dumped her wine in the sink and made herself a cup of instant coffee. It was crucial to establish from the very beginning that Clay was not always going to get things his way. 'There are a few conditions,' she announced. Her voice barely wobbled.