by Ann Major
"Dear God," he muttered.
Her heart skipped a beat.
"Dear God..." His eyes and face took on an expression that made her feel very odd, as though she'd never be able to take another breath. Slowly, carefully he folded her into his arms.
She laid her head against his chest. He held her close, so tightly she could feel the hard rhythm of his heart pounding fiercely in unison with her own. She felt his hands move gently beneath her hair. "Oh, Jackson," she wept into his chest. "Don't leave me. Don’t ever leave me.”
"As if I could." There was a new, softer tone to his voice that Jess had never heard there before. He was surrendering to a force that was stronger than he. "I love you, too," he said simply. "You may as well hear the truth although I know it will make you even more unbearably conceited than you already are—and conceit is an abominable trait in a woman. I can't fight this... this...damn...total surrender of my will or whatever it is...any longer—although I tried mightily. It's in me, through and through, this love thing. I can't fight you. I can't fight myself. I have to have you—even if you are stubborn and impossible and bossy…and always know best. That’s a damning trait, you know…for a woman."
She was weeping, just like any ordinary, sentimental woman, and it was almost pleasant because he was cradling her in his arms so gently, so protectively.
"When Ian had that gun on you, I knew if he killed you I'd die, too," he whispered. "You're a part of me."
"I felt the same way," she said.
"My sweet, impossible, meddlesome darling," he murmured, and no love words had ever sounded dearer. His mouth covered hers. He kissed her, holding her tightly. “Apparently, I don’t want a woman I can push around.”
At last he released her. There was an interval of tender, joyous silence.
Someday he would tell her that it was not her fault that loving came so hard to him. Not her fault that as a boy he'd idolized his own father till his father had walked out on his mother for another woman. He'd felt that his father had abandoned him, as well. Even after his father had come back, the hurt had stayed there, buried. Subconsciously he'd probably felt safer believing the worst of Jess, blaming her. Safer marrying Deirdre, a woman he couldn't love.
"Lizzie?" Tad whispered.
"She and the B.'s and Meeta are locked safely inside the basement. I gave Kirk morphine so he wouldn't get into any trouble."
"If only there was a pill we could give you." But Jackson was grinning down at her lovingly.
"Are you mad because I let you go even though I suspected Ian?"
"At first I was. But I'm still too damned scared to be mad. That was a hellishly stupid thing to do. Maybe later when I calm down, I'll get mad. Then there'll be hell to pay."
"I promise, from now on, I'll do exactly as you say."
"I don't believe you, Bancroft."
She clung to him tightly.
"But you know something?" He tilted her chin back.
"What?"
He was staring deeply into her eyes. "I don't care anymore. What really matters is what you did a while ago. No woman's ever stood up for me the way you did. You said you'd fix things in a week, and you damn sure did. I guess I never knew till now the kind of woman a man needs out here. I love you. I want to marry you."
Her heart gave a leap of joy. "Do you really mean it?"
"Honey, I feel sorry for you." His voice was warm, husky, tenderly amused. "Who'll marry you if I don't? Who else in all the world is cussed enough, and stubborn enough, and ornery enough to put up with a woman as impossible as you?"
A tremulous smile curved her lips, a wild song of joy singing through her veins. "There isn't anybody who can hold a candle to you in that contest because you’re equally impossible."
He smiled sexily, charmingly. His hand reached out to tentatively smooth back the tangles of gold at her temple. Her dark eyes glowed in response to the caress.
In the next instant his arms were tightly around her, and his mouth came down hungrily on her lips.
A long time later she said, "Let's go tell Lizzie."
"And after that..." he said, his voice thickening.
"Yes, after that... we have till dawn."
Her eyes warmed. Her quick smile held the most tantalizing promise.
Epilogue
It was the first of June, and it was Tad and Jess's wedding day, as well. They were in Texas at the Big House on Jackson Ranch, having been married in the family chapel.
The house, the glittering chandelier, the wedding party—everyone and everything was decorated lavishly in purple satin. The groom’s purple vest and bow tie were of that color. Even the bride's gown was the palest shade of lavender. The bouquet was of white flowers and purple ribbons.
Tad had grumbled at first when Jess had begged him to give in to Lizzie's outlandish wish for the color scheme.
"It's my wedding," he'd howled, "you spoiled imp."
"Our wedding," Lizzie had asserted just as firmly. "You didn't even want her to come to Jackson Downs."
"Because I was afraid you two females would put a ring in my nose and I'd find myself led around by you both for the rest of my life."
Jess and Lizzie had merely glanced knowingly at one another and smiled.
Jess was having the most abominable effect on his child. Every day she got bossier and more muleheaded.
The wedding was purple, a child's fantasy of delight, and Tad was no longer against it. The great mansion was filled with an almost childish, fantastic happiness. And filled with familial love, as well.
For the first time in years Tad felt at home. Almost satisfied to be in Texas. It seemed a long time ago that he'd grown up here, a lonely child, a younger brother, who'd idolized his father and felt abandoned when his parents had separated. With his father's absence, Jeb, his masterful older brother, had begun to dominate everything until Tad had felt he no longer belonged. Later Deirdre hadn't fit in, either.
But now with Jess everything seemed different. He was at peace with himself and with his family, as well. His parents were happier than ever before, and marriage to Megan MacKay had mellowed Jeb.
Upstairs the nursery was filled with babies. Mercedes had shown off her brood of grandchildren to all the guests. Amy and Nick's tiny daughter, Merry, lay napping in a crib beside Jeb's feisty son, Jarred. Kirk was upstairs with Julia, guarding their own newborn son, Jack. Tad swore that it wouldn't be long before he had a son of his own.
Tad asked Jess to dance and soon they were dancing down the length of the ballroom toward the solarium. He could smell her bouquet of orange blossoms. Purple streamers fluttered against his neck and shoulders as Jess waltzed. Suddenly, he was aware of Noelle Martin's shining, dark gaze. She was watching them intently, sadly, from where she stood arm-in-arm with her famous father who had long been a senator from Louisiana. Her still-beautiful mother was sipping champagne as she chatted with Mercedes and Wayne Jackson.
Noelle had been Jess's maid of honor. It was just like Jess to have defied him and befriended the wild, titian-haired Noelle in Australia, Noelle who was his enemy’s cousin.
"Noelle is not what you think," Jess had said enigmatically, "not what you think, at all."
Tad clutched Jess closer and forgot Noelle. For a bossy woman, Jess followed his lead divinely. "I hope Lizzie outgrows this purple thing before she's old enough to get married herself," he whispered into Jess's ear.
"I'll save my dress just in case."
"Jeb won't let up teasing me about you. He says you made us more money in the month you were at Jackson Downs than in the entire eight years I was there running things without you. He said you're a wonderful addition to the family."
"Discovering a uranium mine did help. Still, I'm glad he approves."
"He just approves of you to goad me."
"I'm sure you're wrong about that."
"I've known him longer than you."
For a long time they danced, until Jeb himself strode across the ballroom and cut in. T
ad asked Jeb's wife, Megan, to dance, and he saw his brother Nick dancing with the beautiful Noelle.
All too soon the reception was ending, although not soon enough for the impatient bridegroom.
Tad lounged negligently on the balcony and sipped champagne as he watched Jess teasingly assemble the unmarried girls below in the foyer. Gaily she held her bouquet to her lips and kissed it. Then she turned her back on the cluster of girls and flung the white blossoms and purple satin ribbons high into the air.
Every girl ran and jumped toward the flowers.
Every girl but one.
Noelle stood apart, looking grave and lovely in her purple gown. Tad had seen that expression on her face before, many times. Any time a jackaroo had flirted with her. Any time her thoughts had turned to the past.
Not for the first time his curiosity was aroused. As well as an unwanted pang of sympathy.
The flowers flew through the air, glanced off Noelle's listless hands and fell to the floor at her feet.
Lizzie rushed toward the bouquet. "It's yours, Noelle!"
Noelle shrank from the flowers. "No... Please, give it to someone else."
Jess was there in an instant, seizing command—as always—but more gently this time, though. She quieted the disappointed flock of girls and placed the bouquet in Noelle's hands. Jess's words floated up the staircase. "Seek your destiny." Then she kissed Noelle's cheek.
Jess was rushing up the stairs to Tad.
"You threw those flowers to Noelle on purpose. Why? To defy me?"
"You definitely have a complex about female defiance, my love. I’m going to have to work on that."
"If I do have such a complex, you are the female who has given it to me."
She kissed him.
"Why Noelle? Why were you determined to throw the bouquet to her? 'Seek your destiny!' What did that bit of theatrics mean? Tell me, Jess."
"It's a long story. A love story. Very romantic. Very tragic," Jess said mysteriously. "Someday I'll tell it to you. But now..."
Her fingers grazing against his tensed in the way he'd come to think of as her nighttime touch.
"Yes, now..."
"Have you forgotten that tonight is our wedding night?" Her voice was soft, husky.
His arms went around her, and he lifted her easily and began to carry her up, up those endless darkened stairs to the upper story and the bedroom they would share until they left for their honeymoon the next day.
When he reached the door, he kicked it open. Once inside he swiftly locked it behind them before he set her down.
After weeks of wedding madness—relatives, children, Lizzie—they were alone.
Her dazzling golden hair fell in tumbled disarray upon lavender lace.
She was his wife. Really his. Forever.
At last.
Suddenly he felt a wild thrill such as he had never known—joy, excitement, fear—a powerful happiness surging through him.
He was shaking so badly he couldn't move.
Gently she put her arms around his neck. Her mouth was reaching up to meet his. He felt her lips trembling hotly beneath his. Her fingertips caressed his jaw.
He clung to her. To life. To love. To his wife.
She was everything.
He knew that as long as he had her, he would never be afraid of love again.
“What are you waiting for, cowboy?” she whispered.
“You gonna boss me on our wedding night?”
“Always. Forever.”
He laughed. Then he took her in his arms and kissed her.
THE END
SCANDAL’S CHILD
Ann Major
Book Description:
Noelle will do anything to gain Garret’s forgiveness for her past mistakes, and even more to help his son. Does she have a second chance, or is it already too late?
Prologue
Outside the Jackson ranch house, the sun was blazing. It was only the beginning of June, but in south Texas, it felt like high summer.
A black horse ran wild and free in the golden pasture. Noelle Martin glanced out the window and longed to be on that horse, riding bareback through those high grasses, her red hair streaming in the warm wind.
Instead she felt stiff and hot in her tight satin gown, constrained by the formalities of wedding etiquette. A wisp of tulle at her shoulder scratched her every time she moved. Across the room her still-beautiful and still-scandalous mother was embarrassing sedate Papa as usual by drinking too much champagne and dazzling every male from the age of eight to eighty.
Noelle felt caught in a snarl of indecision. Should she go to Europe to buy antiques for Mama’s shop? Or home to Louisiana as Papa wished?
For two years Noelle had stayed away—to forget Garret Cagan and all that had gone wrong between them. To forget the baby they’d lost and his son, Louis, whom she had loved as her own. Could she really go back without constantly thinking of Garret and all that he still meant to her?
Noelle had fled to Australia and stayed there for two long years trying to forget him, but he had proven unforgettable. Stamped onto her heart and mind was the hateful memory of his wild, rebel-without-a-cause aura, of his devil-dark good looks—his black hair, his equally black eyes, his tall, muscular body. They’d grown up together, although he had come from a swamp shack and she from a white-columned mansion. While Garret had been raised in poverty and had faced much adversity, she’d been nurtured and spoiled from the moment she’d toddled out of her cradle.
Even now, when she knew how wrong he was for her, the thought of Garret stirred the old restlessness deep inside her.
The black horse galloped past the house with wild abandon. Noelle looked away, no longer able to bear the sight of him. He reminded her of another horse, of another time, of a stolen moment when she’d been a girl, riding bareback behind Garret with the soft sunlight filtering through the dense cypress trees. As they’d galloped past blooming dogwood and purple violets along the bayou’s edge, the woods had seemed magical, free, and—most of all—their very own. She’d clutched her lover tightly, as if to hold on to him and that brief idyllic time they had together forever.
Noelle’s eyes misted. Why couldn’t she put him behind her? Why did she still feel choked with conflicting emotions?
“It’s time to throw the bouquet,” Mercedes shouted, snapping Noelle back to reality.
“Bridesmaids and all the rest of you single girls, the bride’s in the foyer!”
A ripple of interest whispered through the crowd.
“Sounds like the bridegroom is getting impatient.”
It was the first Saturday in June, and it was Jess and Tad Jackson’s wedding day. The Jackson ranch house, the dazzling chandelier, the wedding party—everyone and everything was decorated sumptuously in purple satin because purple was the groom’s daughter’s favorite color. The house was filled with familial warmth and happiness, the music of laughter, and the sound of crystal champagne glasses clinking together as members of the Texas aristocracy mingled with beloved ranch hands. Upstairs the nursery was filled with Jackson babies. The happiness of the bride and groom had infected the Texas crowd with a mood of joyous expectancy.
Everyone except the maid of honor.
In the midst of such happiness, Noelle felt strained. She stood apart from the cluster of excited bridesmaids. This was the sort of wedding Grand-mère and Papa had always longed for her to have. They wanted her to forget Garret. They wanted her to marry Beaumont Vincent. Afterward, she would live in Beau’s grand mansion and be the queen of its cold, formal rooms. Together they would be the toast of New Orleans society. She had been trained to be the perfect hostess, the perfect society matron. Beau belonged to her world.
Noelle forced a smile and tried to convince herself that the opulent Texas ranch house was not a gilded prison, that the aristocratic guests were not her jailers and that her friend’s wedding was not a cruel reminder of her own doom.
The other young women were fidgeting hopeful
ly at the prospect of catching the bridal bouquet. Noelle felt tense and faint in her tight dress. Having come loose from its amethyst-and-pearl clips, her glorious hair that streamed down her back in a wildly cascading tumble of scintillating bronze-and-gold flame, was the only thing about her that was not contained.
Wishing she could hide, she backed into the shadows only to realize she was hemmed in by wedding guests and by strong-willed Jess, who never let much get past her.
All loves did not end in weddings and happiness. Not if one loved unwisely. The image of Garret’s swarthy face rose in Noelle’s mind. He’d lived his life on the edge so long, he would never be completely tamed.
With an effort she pushed thoughts of Garret out of her mind. She had come today only for Jess. Sweet, willful Jess. Jess, who’d defied her fiancé and befriended Noelle in Australia. Noelle was determined not to do anything to spoil Jess’s wedding day.
She forced herself to concentrate on her bossy friend, who was gathering her lavender-embossed wedding gown edged in embroidered lace and smiling radiantly up at Tad as she moved away from the other women. In that last second before Jess turned her back and prepared to toss her bouquet, her brilliant dark gaze met Noelle’s.
“No...” Noelle pleaded silently. “No… Mon Dieu... don’t throw it to... Not to me, chere.” But even as she uttered her secret prayer, she knew Jess would do exactly as she pleased.
From the first, Jess had been determined to fling Noelle back into the frantic current of life. “You came to Australia to run away forever,” Jess had said, “but I won’t let you. You’re going home where you belong—to him.”
To him... Never.
“Sometimes the worst man for you is the right man. Who would have thought that an intelligent, compassionate, enlightened being like myself would fall for a caveman-cowboy? Life does challenge us, doesn’t it?” Jess had said.