For the Sake of His Heir

by Joanne Rock

  The driver from the Range Rover sprinted past them to take a rolling cart of bags off the plane. The man wore a parka so big his head looked unnaturally small even with a knit hat pulled low on his head. She seriously envied the coat, even with the warmth of Gabe’s leather glove splayed between her shoulder blades.

  “Are you warm enough?” he asked in her right ear, his voice triggering another sensual flashback to their time in the butler’s pantry.

  She was getting used to the tone he used only for her.

  His wife.

  His second wife, now that she thought about it. Had he even bothered to warn Theresa that he was getting remarried? The thought threatened to take Brianne’s legs out from under her faster than the slippery ice as they crossed the tarmac.

  “I think it’s the wind more than the cold.” She half shouted to be heard, the gusts blowing past her ear hard enough to make a high-pitched howl.

  Without slowing his step, he raised the shawl-like hood on the cape and twined the ends around her neck to secure it. The movement sent a quick smattering of snowflakes into her hair, but the fabric quickly blocked the wind around her ears.

  If only he could solve her other worry as easily. Would Jason’s mother resent her fiercely for marrying Gabe? Or might Gabe be honest with her about their reasons for the wedding? She needed to ask him about it.

  A moment later, they were in the back of the Range Rover and the driver had the bags loaded. Once they were underway and she’d thawed out a little, she lowered the hood and peered out the window into the swirl of white snow.

  “I feel like we’re in the middle of nowhere.” There weren’t many vehicles on the road. “It’s like driving in a white vacuum.”

  More than that, being at Gabe’s side in the lonesome emptiness only enhanced the urge to wrap herself around him. She felt like they could be the last two people on earth out here.

  “I spent a lot of time on the plane looking into places for us to stay, but in the end, I think it will be easiest to take a cabin on a hobby ranch my grandfather has rented for his stay out here.” Gabe pressed a button on his phone and showed her a map. “This pin is the ranch.”

  “Wait a second.” She straightened and edged back to get a better look. “Did you say he rented a whole ranch? For himself?”

  “He’s had one of his grandsons here with him on and off as he waits for his estranged son to see him.” Gabe leaned deeper into the leather seat beside her, his arm stretched along the back of her headrest. “So he hasn’t been totally alone. He travels with a personal assistant and a medical caretaker, too, so he needs room for a few staffers.”

  Just when she thought she had a handle on this family’s wealth and lifestyle, something else made her jaw drop.

  “And now we’ll stay with him, too?” She told herself that was a good thing since being alone with Gabe for a honeymoon—no matter how much of a pretense their marriage was—could only lead to temptation.

  “Not in the same building, just on the same property.” He pointed toward the phone again. “The red pin is the main ranch house. This blue dot is the guest cottage.” He skimmed his finger west on the map a bit, a distance the scale showed to be a mile or two. “I thought we’d be more comfortable there. It’s got maid service and I messaged the caretaker to stock the fridge, so they’re expecting us. But it’s not too late to book a hotel, or a house of our own, if you prefer.”

  Of course it wasn’t too late. The man had arranged a wedding with a day’s notice.

  “The cottage sounds great.” She tried to smile to show this was all fine by her. But the reality of this being her honeymoon night was sinking in fast. Even now, Gabe’s gloved fingers toyed with a lock of her hair, igniting fresh shivers.

  And still she hadn’t asked him what his ex-wife thought about their marriage. Or if he’d told her at all. Brianne had never formed much of a relationship with the woman other than saying hello in passing and having one conversation about what flowers hummingbirds liked best. Unlike Gabe, Theresa had always viewed Brianne as a domestic—a staff member whose sole function was to keep her employer happy.

  “Are you worried about anything?” Gabe returned the phone to the pocket of his camel-colored overcoat. “Have you been getting regular updates on your grandmother?”

  “She’s fine, thank you. And yes, Adella has been great about sending me messages.” Brianne appreciated his thoughtfulness.

  Still, it was difficult to think about anything else beyond the fact that she was heading to a remote Wyoming retreat to spend her wedding night with Gabe. No matter that he’d agreed not to press the attraction between them, the possibility of something happening loomed large in her thoughts.

  “And the security team I hired to clean out your grandmother’s apartment is still uploading the photos of the contents.”

  “No hurry. I’m just glad to know Wendy won’t be able to take anything else.” She’d been researching touristy things to do near Cheyenne, Wyoming, about an hour before their flight landed, when Gabe had let her know Nana’s apartment had been secured and her things successfully moved out. “I’m most curious about what she’s been hiding in the broom closet.”

  She’d shared the secret of Nana’s hiding place with Gabe, of course, so he could relay the information to the team he’d sent into the Brooklyn apartment. Not that she believed her grandmother owned anything very valuable in the financial sense. But there was a nostalgic value to anything that was important to Rose, and Brianne wanted to be sure nothing was left behind when she relocated her to Martinique.

  “When we’re settled in the cottage, I’ll check the link again and see what new photos are up so you can go through them.” His arm shifted from the headrest to slide around her shoulders. “Something else is bothering you, though. I can tell.”

  Two things, actually.

  It seemed easier to admit her worries about his ex than to confess her other fear: that she wouldn’t be able to keep her hands off him once they were settled into some romantic honeymoon suite in the middle of nowhere. The fact that she kept replaying the feel of his hands on her back when he’d unbuttoned her wedding dress sure didn’t inspire confidence in her ability to keep things platonic.

  “There is something.” She knew his ex was a sore subject, so she took a deep breath before she blurted, “Did you warn Theresa we were getting married?”

  He tensed beside her. The reaction was immediate and reminded Brianne how much emotion he still had invested in that broken relationship.

  “No,” he admitted stiffly, straightening in his seat as the Range Rover pulled off the main road onto a rough rural lane. “Our relationship is not her concern. And especially not on our wedding day.”

  Right. Except that he’d married Theresa because he’d loved her.

  As for Brianne?

  She was his means to an end.

  And if that didn’t put a damper on the hot, sensual desire she’d been feeling for Gabe, she didn’t know what would. Before she could argue the point, however, the big SUV lurched to a stop in front of a big, Craftsman-style home with well-lit windows looking into cozy rooms with pine-log walls and rafters.

  Her only consolation in seeing the snow-swept winter retreat was that maybe resisting Gabe tonight would be easier with the subject of his ex a newly raw ache between them.

  Eight

  He simply needed to regroup.

  After his misstep with Brianne in the Range Rover, he’d sensed her retreat. When they’d entered the cabin, she’d slipped away to unpack at the earliest opportunity. In theory, he understood why she would have preferred that he warn his ex-wife about their new marriage. That would have been kinder, perhaps. But it hadn’t occurred to him since his parting with Theresa had been acrimonious at every turn, despite his best efforts to make it easy for her to see Jason and maintain a relationship with their son.<
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  Yes, he’d taken steps to ensure his ex-wife found out about the marriage to Brianne. But no doubt the pictures leaked to the tabloids weren’t the method Brianne would have chosen. So now, he was regrouping to salvage his honeymoon and make amends with his new bride, a woman he did not wish to hurt. Brianne was different from his ex in every way, and she deserved his best efforts in this marriage, even if their reasons for the union had been practical and not romantic.

  Gabe set the timer on the oven to remind himself to flip the steaks and mentally ran through his dinner preparations. He had the candles lit in the dining room, but he’d laid a fire in the huge stone hearth in the living room if she preferred to eat there. The wine had been chilled before they arrived, but he’d opened it to breathe. He’d put a loaf of fresh bread in the warming drawer, and tossed some salads. In a moment of optimism, he’d even switched on the heat for the outdoor hot tub on the master bedroom balcony in case he could convince Brianne to join him after dinner.

  Now he needed to make amends to her. Steer the talk away from conversational powder kegs and focus on all the positive things that this marriage meant for both of them. Health care and stability for her aging grandparent. Securing Jason’s place in Malcolm McNeill’s powerful family. And, if he could convince her to follow the attraction that had long been simmering between them, a tremendous amount of pleasure.

  Turning off the broiler, he left the oven door slightly open and went upstairs to call Brianne down for the meal. He passed wall after wall of darkened glass, since the sun had set here even though they’d gained a couple of hours on the day by flying west. The house would feel like a fishbowl anywhere else but not in this remote corner of the world, where there was nothing else around them for miles. Although the place was part of the larger ranch his grandfather had rented for the month, they couldn’t see any other outbuildings from here.

  “Dinner is ready,” he announced outside her bedroom door. He’d tried to talk her into taking the master suite, but she’d been quietly adamant when they first arrived, making herself at home in the second bedroom on the upper floor.

  He rapped on the solid pine door now, and it swung open at his touch. Light spilled from the room.

  “Brianne?” He didn’t want to intrude, but maybe she’d decided to nap.

  Or shower.

  A surge of awareness crackled across his skin as he was overcome with memories of kissing her during their wedding. Unbuttoning her afterward. As sensual encounters went, they were tame. Outwardly, they looked pretty innocent.

  The effect on him, however, was anything but.

  Striding inside the bedroom, he found no clues to her whereabouts. The white quilt on the huge bed was untouched except for the few clothes left scattered there. There were shopping bags on the floor from local stores that must have contained some of the winter items he’d ordered for her. The rental agency had said it would be no problem to rush-deliver hats, gloves and more outerwear along with some warm sweaters and slippers. Maybe not the height of fashion, but he knew Brianne wouldn’t care.

  Still, she deserved beautiful things. Seeing the unisex insulated gloves in different sizes made him all the more determined to indulge her. Hearing the stories about her stepmother had shed some light on the clothing choices Brianne made. Gabe had thought she dressed in cargo pants and T-shirts for work because they were functional for gardening. After meeting Wendy and learning about the way she’d made Brianne uncomfortable in her own skin as a child, he’d been angry. It explained a lot about the way his wife downplayed her beauty.

  He was about to go back downstairs to search for her when something pelted the French door near him.

  What the hell?

  Turning, he thought maybe an icy branch had fallen from a tree to knock against the glass. But while he stared out the window, a blob of heavy snow hit the pane and slid down. This time, the sound was accompanied by muted feminine laughter.

  A shadow moved outside the window on the second-floor balcony that wrapped around the whole back of the house. He reached back toward the bed long enough to jam a navy hat on his head and stuff his fingers into a pair of black Gore-Tex gloves. Charging outside, he faced the culprit head-on.

  Brianne was busy scooping up another snowball, scraping red gloves through the foot of accumulation on the wooden deck. She’d traded her wool cape for a red down parka and boots. A gray knit cap was pulled low over her eyes, her ponytail covered with snow and hanging bedraggled over one shoulder.

  His loafers would be ruined, but he had no intention of leaving the aggression unanswered, especially after he’d heard that laughter of hers. Had she moved on from their earlier disagreement? Or simply found an outlet for her frustration with him? He’d thought dinner would smooth things over between them, but if she preferred a snowy standoff, he was ready.

  “I’d think carefully about your next move,” he warned her, taking in her pink cheeks and bright eyes as she stalked closer to him, the wind lifting her hair off her shoulder and whipping it across the front of her parka. “I can’t very well lob snow missiles at my new bride, but I can get even other ways.”

  “You can’t play that card.” She wagged one gloved finger at him, her voice raised so he could hear her over the howl of the wind. “No veiled threats allowed, Mr. McNeill. I give you my permission to get into an old-fashioned snowball fight with me.”

  He’d missed this part of their relationship. The teasing and one-upping. Only now, there was a new dimension to it thanks to their wedding vows. The possibility of things getting much more interesting.

  “I’d hardly call it a veiled threat.” He kept one eye on the snowball in her hand as they squared off a few feet apart in the middle of the balcony. “You make it sound ominous.”

  “Okay. No mystery threats, then. No suggestive innuendo allowed.”

  “I draw the line there, Mrs. McNeill.” He liked her expression as he tested out the new name. Even in the reflected light from the house, he could see a flare of something that looked like pleasure in her eyes. “Half the reason I married you was for the suggestive innuendo.”

  Her gaze narrowed as her fingers closed harder around the snowball. “Maybe I should have read that contract more carefully.”

  They both knew she’d read it exhaustively, working on a tentative draft while her grandmother was in the emergency room. She’d changed wording in a handful of places and argued against several points of the settlement to try and decrease the amount she would receive after they’d been married for a year. He’d tweaked the wording as she wished, but he’d left the settlement terms as generous as originally written.

  “You didn’t see the suggestive-language addendum?” He moved fractionally closer, ready to disarm her if the opportunity presented itself.

  A light snow fell, or else the wind kicked up enough to make it feel like it was actively snowing. There was a swirl of white between them. Behind her, he could see the outline of the railing. Down on the far end of the balcony, he could see the shape of the hot tub he’d warmed up earlier. He shifted closer still.

  “I know perfectly well there’s no such thing. We’re married for a handful of hours and we’re already at odds about the agreement.” She tsked and sighed dramatically.

  “I’m the one who has come under attack, though.” He nodded meaningfully toward the hand that still held the snowball. “Maybe I’d be more amenable if you put down your arms.”

  “And risk retribution?” She shook her head. “I’ll go on firing, thank you very much.”

  “At such close range?” He put a hand to his chest. He only wore a sweater and a shirt in the chilly winter air, but the thought of touching Brianne heated him inside and out. “I don’t think you can pull the trigger on your new groom, Brianne. Not when you know how much I’m dying for payback.”

  He closed the distance between them even more; they were so close his b
ody blocked the snowflakes from landing on her. So close he could see her sway on her feet for a moment, as if she wanted to fall into his arms as much as he wanted her to.

  Her eyelashes fluttered. She dragged in a slow breath.

  And socked him square in the chest with the snowball.

  Leaping back with a squeal of delight, she grinned at him, delighted with herself.

  He was nothing less than delighted with her, too. He didn’t think twice about going after her, wrapping his arms around her from behind and plunging them both into the snowdrift built up against one side of the balcony.

  Rolling himself in a way that he fell first, he cushioned her fall with his body. The shock of cold against his back was a minor inconvenience for the reward of having her curves pressed snug to the front of him, her wiggling weight a delectable and unexpected treat.

  She laughed herself breathless, her breasts brushing his hands where he held her around her ribs. He battled the desire to slide his palms under the parka, since that would only make her cold.

  It wasn’t that bad out, he decided. Midforties, maybe. And although he was lying in the snow, at least the drift blocked the wind coming off the mountains. He could lie there a little longer. Especially if he got her turned around.

  Gently, he rocked her sideways, putting enough space between them to spin her in his arms as he moved her so they ended up nose-to-nose.

  “You’re insane,” she accused softly, her breath a warm huff on his cheek. “You don’t even have a coat on.”

  He kept his lower arm pillowing his head and hers. “I’ve never met a nicer way to stay warm.” He used his free hand to pluck a few icy strands of her hair from her cheek and set them behind her.

  “We should go inside,” she insisted, her expression turning more serious. “It’s cold out here.”

  “I’m taking my payback.” He watched her while the words sank in.