by Mary Fox
And Brandon regretted his actions. Maybe not for the reasons Paul believed—whatever he believed—but he did regret his actions.
Courtney had been a lovely addition to the ranch from the moment she’d crossed the home’s threshold. She was a warm essence in the house, her bright and cheery attitude something that had been missing since his ma died.
He knew she had thought he’d been ignoring her, and in a way, she would have been correct. He had tried to. However, her being the only female amongst a group of males, it had been hard to do. She drew his eye like a flame did a moth. She’d always looked beautiful, even with her hair wild from slaving over a hot fire and her sleeves rolled up well past her elbows. It had taken everything in his body not to force himself upon her again.
His groin ached for her and he salivated for the chance to kiss her again.
She wasn’t something he could have though. She came from a finer society where women didn’t have sex casually. They married into money and bedded their husbands only for the heirs they’d produce.
That was not his style, not the way he’d been raised. He’d always known that women were something to be cherished and loved—often and without abandon.
There was no way Miss Courtney le Brush would ever willingly want such a life. He’d had no other choice but to send her home, back to whatever family she’d had before she’d accepted Paul’s offer to be Brandon’s wife. She was back where she belonged, in a society that she’d been raised in, among the kind of people that doted on her as they doted on his brother.
No matter. That didn’t stop Brandon from missing the woman’s company, or her cooking. He missed her with an ache that was physical. There was no way he’d ever tell Paul that though. His brother was already determined to drag Courtney back here whether Brandon wanted him to or not.
“She doesn’t belong here,” he said instead. It was true enough.
Paul laughed. The sound was both mocking and grating. “Doesn’t belong here?” he asked. “Brandon, no one belongs here. Not even you. Everyone makes due with what’s happening to them, makes the best of it. Others make choices that lead them to better lives.” He coughed as a horse trotted past, kicking up dust and dirt into his mouth. “Miss le Brush made her choice when she answered my ad. Not her father. Her. She answered the ad. She wanted a different kind of life than she was going to have at home, and she decided she’d rather have that kind of life here. Is that so hard to believe?”
Brandon closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose with his fingers, and heaved a deep sigh. “That’s neither here nor there,” he said. He frowned at his brother. “How long do you think she would have stayed here before she was unhappy? Before she was wining that she wanted to go home? That she would rather live in the city then be married to a working rancher like myself? Hmmm?”
His brother shot him a smile. “What makes you so certain she would have ever tired of this place?”
“You did,” Brandon pointed out.
Paul sighed. “I made a choice, Brandon. My choice was to go to the city. I wasn’t meant to be here. Has it ever occurred to you that this was her choice?”
It hadn’t, but Brandon’s pride wouldn’t let him consider the idea now. “It doesn’t matter,” he said, pulling off his hat and slapping it against his leg to rid it of the current build-up of dust. “She’s gone now. She’s not coming back either.”
Another sigh escaped his brother’s mouth, and when Brandon glanced over him, he saw Paul shaking his head as he wiped sweat from his eyes. “You are a fool, Brandon. A right fool. I can’t believe you tossed out a good woman because you thought she was going to treat you the same way Elizabeth did.”
Without warning, Brandon turned on Paul, his fist flying as he punched the other man in the face. Paul fell to the ground, sprawling in the dust and dirt and staring up at Brandon as if trying to figure out how he’d ended up on the ground in the first place. “You leave her out of this,” Brandon snarled through clenched teeth. His hands were curled up into fists and his eyes were narrowed at Paul.
His brother’s reaction was similar. He glared up at his younger brother, anger heating his words. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? It always comes back to her, the woman who stole your heart and then left you high and dry for some city slicker like myself.”
With a snarl, Brandon reached down and dragged Paul to his feet. Then he curled his fist back and punched Paul again. “I said leave her out of this.”
“Like you always do?” Paul didn’t try to hit back. He understood his brother’s anger. It had been pent up for the past couple of years, worming through his mind and making him bitter towards the world. Their ma and pa had always assumed it was why Brandon hadn’t left the ranch. Yes, Brandon loved the ranch, and loved working out there, but they had always suspected that ranch work was just an excuse Brandon used to make sure he never had to go into town where he might possibly come across Elizabeth and her beau.
“This has nothing to do with her.”
“It has everything to do with her!”
They were screaming at one another now. Paul ducked out of the way every time Brandon threw a punch his direction. Now that he understood how his brother would react to his words, he was smarter in his counter-actions. Brandon advanced upon him, anger in every step he took, a sneer frozen upon his face.
Around them, the new hired ranch hands gathered, watching the goings-on with interest. Some cheered for one of the two brothers or the other. Others chanted the word “fight” over and over again. They stood in a semi-circle around the two men, giving them a wide enough berth none had to worry about being drawn within the fight by accident but close enough they could hear and see everything going on.
The two brothers faced one another, rage contorting both their faces. Blood dribbled down from Paul’s lower lip where Brandon’s initial punch had busted it. He’d also have a nice shiner come morning, Brandon noted. In a way, he felt bad, but he didn’t care. Paul deserved it, dragging up memories he’d been avoiding for the past two years, emotions he hadn’t ever wanted to think about since Elizabeth left.
“She didn’t want me,” Brandon told his brother.
Sensing their physical fight was over for the moment, Paul stood up tall and straightened his suit. It was ruined, but he didn’t care. It was a suit. He could always buy another one. He dusted the dirt from it with a wry grin.
“No, she didn’t. She chose that city slicker, didn’t she?”
“Is that supposed to make me feel better? If so, you really aren’t as smart as you pretend to be.” Brandon’s words, though bitter, weren’t filled with the same animosity they had been earlier.
Paul sighed. “Look, Brandon. Elizabeth was interested in one thing, and one thing only: money. Our family had a lot of it, so she decided to convince you to marry her. Then she met her current husband, a man of more wealth and social standing than yourself. She left you. End of story.”
“I loved her though.” Raw emotion spilled out of Brandon’s throat, making him choke on his words. It showed on his face as he looked at Paul.
“I know.”
“I loved her.”
“I know.” Paul shook his head. “But she didn’t love you. You need to see that, to understand it, to get over it.”
Brandon hung his head, his shoulders falling and his arms hanging limp at his sides.
“What about Courtney?” Paul asked after several minutes of silence. During the silence, most of the hired hands returned to their work, sensing the end of the fight that had occurred only moments before.
“What about her?” His hands twitched. Talking about Courtney left a bitter taste in his mouth. He wasn’t certain how he felt about her exactly. He didn’t love her, at least he didn’t think he did, but she had changed his life in the short time she’d been on the ranch. The biggest thing was that she hadn’t made any objection to his words. When he’d told her to leave, she had. He could see how much he hurt her every d
ay she’d remained, but she hadn’t said a word to him about it.
On more than one occasion, he had noticed her watching him. He had also noted how her eyes grew softer when she did, how her shoulders drooped and her hands fell to her sides, as if in defeat. Had she wanted to stay? Had she wanted to remain despite his effort to push her back toward the life she deserved?
“Do you remember what she said to you?”
Brandon looked up at him, confusion plain on his face. What was Paul talking about? What had Courtney said to him?
“Remember? When you told her about Elizabeth?”
Brandon turned away, searching his memory for the conversation they’d had. He’d been so angry with Paul. It had blinded him in a lot of ways. He didn’t know what his brother was talking about now. What had Courtney said? He remembered it had stunned him, remembered that he’d never thought of what she’d told him before, but what had she said. It had to deal with his feelings toward Elizabeth. He didn’t love her. He didn’t love Elizabeth. If he had, he would have gone after her when she left him. Courtney hadn’t known Elizabeth though, and truth be told, she didn’t know him.
Then again, maybe she’d been right about him after all.
Satisfied that Brandon remembered, Paul nodded his head when his brother looked at him. “Do you love Courtney?”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He remembered the touch of her skin on his though. He remembered the smell of her hair. He remember the taste of her mouth. She’d been warm and loving. She’d been soft and yielding to him. She had given him everything, and he’d sent her away. What kind of a man was he?
“I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He shook his head and frowned at Paul. “I just don’t know.”
A deep frown crossed his older brother’s face as he looked at him with unyielding eyes. “Well, you need to decide soon,” he told him.
“Oh? Why’s that?”
Brandon’s blood ran cold with Paul’s next words. “Because she’s getting married, and only you have the ability to stop it.”
Chapter Three
Courtney paced the floor back and forth, not certain who to be angry at more—herself or her father. Somehow, in her conversation with Talbert a couple of days before, she’d convinced him she was the perfect woman to take as his wife, but rather than asking her for her hand, which she would have refused outright, he’d gone to her father.
Of course, her father loved him as a second son and agreed wholeheartedly. His precious daughter would be cared for. She would have a home with an intelligent, loving husband who could provide for her future. She was in good hands. At least, that’s what her father honestly believed.
She knew that she’d never convince him otherwise. Especially when he’d been so happy.
“My darling daughter!” he’d called up the stairs.
Only a short hour before, she had retired to her room in an effort to escape Talbert and his words. It was getting harder and harder for her to bite her tongue. Living among the ranch hands had given her a foul mouth and taught her that if she didn’t speak her mind right away, she’d regret it.
Among her father and his guest, that simply would not do. Even worse were the thoughts she wanted to say aloud. She wanted to reveal how much of a conniving snake Talbert was.
“Yes, Father?”
“Would you delight us with your company for a moment?”
Ever since returning from the ranch, she’d discovered how society’s propriety irritated her. Her father’s words made her skin itch. At the ranch, she would have simply said, “Come here, please,” and the men would have answered her call, or vice versa.
Etiquette meant so much more here, but it was much more meaningless and preposterous. It made her want to laugh. It was all a joke, a mockery, a shame, and she hated it.
Without it, she could be free. She understood that now and missed such. The social norms she’d grown up with were a gilded cage, one she hated now that she knew better existed out in the world.
My eyes have been opened, she thought. And the world is a darker place for such.
It didn’t matter though. Her father and his guest waited upon her. She made her way downstairs, past Gerald who frowned, which made her nauseous. Whatever was going on, she knew she wasn’t going to like it.
As soon as she entered the library where he father stood talking with Talbert, he beamed at her, as if his entire world had been made in an instant. It was not a comforting expression based on the company he was partaking of at the moment. She kept her expression cool though and returned his smile with one of her own. “What can I do for you, Father?” she asked.
She was, first and foremost in her father’s house, a lady. She dressed as such, wearing lace gloves out in public as well as a bonnet to cover her hair and carrying a parasol to shield her face from the sun.
At the ranch, as long as she was clothed, no one had cared. No one held her hand before him as if presenting a delicate flower to someone as her father did before Talbert now. No one smiled at her as if they knew something she didn’t, a surprise meant to make her feel grand. There were no hidden agendas, no expectations beyond that of filling empty bellies and being herself. She’d been free. She’d been happy.
As she stood before Talbert, with her father standing like the third point of a triangle, a grin upon his face, Courtney wished she were back on the ranch, back feeding the hired ranch hands, back in the arms of the man she’d married.
You’re not married to him any longer, she scolded herself. Such was true. Brandon had demanded annulment paperwork, which both of them had signed before she returned home. He’d given the paperwork to Paul with the expectations that he file it as soon as he could. Paul had assured her and Brandon she’d be a le Brush again by noon the following day.
The thought had appeased Brandon, and he’d only glanced at Courtney a moment, tipping his hat to her out of respect before he rode off. It was as if she’d never been married, which she guessed she should have been grateful of. It meant answering fewer questions. She could only imagine her father’s reaction to that short-lived adventure.
“Young Simon Talbert here has asked for your hand in marriage,” her father said brightly.
“Excuse me?” The response exited her mouth before she could stop it. Her eyes widened and she swiveled her head from her father to Talbert, who stood before her with a smug look on his too-handsome face. Brandon had been rugged, rough and all man. The man whom her father wanted her to marry was too pretty and pompous. It disgusted Courtney to think of having sex with the man.
A memory of Brandon’s hands on her skin, his cock buried inside her, flashed through her mind. It had been wild and frantic, needy and desirable. Somehow, she knew sex with Talbert would be boring and disgusting.
Nausea rose up in her, but she held it back with one hand to her mouth and the other to her stomach. Her father didn’t notice. He was too busy explaining how he and Talbert had come to the conclusion that the best decision for her life was for the young accountant to marry her. He had the finances to support her, a good home, decent standing within the community.
All of his words went in one ear and out the other unheard. She looked down at the floor, her breath coming out in heavy pants. Her blood roared in her ears. She had known the possibility of Talbert asking for her hand were high, but she hadn’t expected him to go through her father in order to ask for her hand. She’d been prepared to turn him down herself.
Her eyes darted frantically from man to man, but neither noticed her panic, which was climbing higher and higher, threatening to swallow her whole. Inside her mind, she felt herself drowning and although she clawed at the edges of the darkness, she could not find her way to the light.
Talbert and her father continued speaking of terms and negotiations in good cheer. Her agitation continued to go unnoticed by either.
“I can’t marry, Talbert,” she whispered, staring down at the floor.
“What was that dear
?” her father asked, turning his attention back toward her for the first time. “Courtney!” He lunged to her side just as she swooned.
It was Talbert who carried Courtney to her room. All the while, she mumbled the name, “Brandon,” in a low voice.
After laying her down in bed, Talbert turned toward her father, confusion mixed with anger clear on his face. “Who’s Brandon?” he demanded.
Looking down at his daughter, the senior le Brush had no answer. “I… I honestly don’t know. We shall ask her when she awakens.”