For the Sake of His Heir

by Joanne Rock

  He’d screwed up with her and didn’t know how to fix it. His heart wasn’t in this meeting with Malcolm, but maybe spending the evening with outsiders would give Gabe a better handle on how to approach Brianne.

  Clearly she hadn’t forgiven him for not being more forthright about his reasons for marriage. And he understood. But didn’t their connection override that? He’d thought, after she’d let her guard down with him again, that she was willing to move forward, but that hadn’t been the case. He’d been stunned when she’d pulled away after sex.

  He regretted hurting her. More than he could say. But at least he’d been honest about taking a more mercenary approach to matrimony.

  Who wouldn’t after what he’d gone through with Theresa?

  Snow swirled in his face as he turned the sled down a well-marked path. The terrain was firmer here, the snow hard-packed, and the machine picked up speed. He could feel Brianne tip her head back, experimentally extending a hand into the rooster tail of snow that kicked up as he turned.

  “Careful,” he warned, needing to keep her safe.

  “It’s so beautiful out here,” she shouted over the roar of the motor as her hand slid around his waist again.

  He ground his teeth together against the seductive feel of her touch. A touch she wouldn’t be sharing with him anytime soon unless he could figure out a way to fix things between them.

  He had bought early Valentine’s Day gifts for her this afternoon, hoping to entice her to stay in Cheyenne for the next week. After seeing the acres of pristine forests for himself, he wanted to share it with his son. He’d made arrangements for Nadine and Jason to travel tomorrow so they could all be together in this winter wonderland.

  But it wouldn’t be as fun if Brianne didn’t want to be a part of it.

  As the main ranch house came into sight, lights blazing in every window of the three-story Craftsman facade, Gabe slowed the snowmobile. Similar in style and construction to the guest cottage where he and Brianne were staying, the main house was bigger with more rooflines and additions. For a moment, Gabe felt the itch to run a hand over the rough, unfinished beams providing support to the building, his carpenter’s eye seeing more possibilities in the wood.

  But he wasn’t a carpenter anymore, he reminded himself as he helped Brianne off the seat. For his son’s sake, he was going to form a relationship with Malcolm McNeill and become a part of the man’s formidable empire. He ground his teeth, remembering Brianne’s words to him just a few days ago.

  What if you teach your son that success can be found in things that make you happy?

  She had a point, of course. But for now, success came in the form of McNeill Resorts. Until Jason had a stake in the company, the one that he was legally entitled to as an heir, Gabe’s personal pursuits would have to wait.

  Beside him, Brianne tugged off her shiny metallic helmet and set it on the seat of the snowmobile.

  “I hope you let me drive home.” She combed her fingers through the dark hair she’d swept into a high ponytail. She was flustered and he knew that had to do with the awareness between them. “That looked like fun.”

  He knew she was confused about their relationship and he regretted that.

  “There’s not much I wouldn’t give to make you happy, Brianne.” He wondered if she had any idea how important she’d become to him.

  Not just since the wedding, either.

  He was beginning to see that she was one of the most honest voices in his life, and her opinions were something he could count on. That had been true since long before the wedding vows.

  Her smile faltered for a moment before she recovered. She was putting a wall up between them, so thin he could see right through. “If you mean it, then please don’t let me make a fool of myself in front of your family tonight.”

  At first, he found it hard to believe she was serious. But then he recalled the insecurity her stepmother had instilled in her at a young age.

  “They’ll be fortunate to know you.” He wanted to fold her in his arms. Kiss her until she bloomed with self-confidence and sensual fulfillment. But he would honor her request about physical intimacy until he could—he hoped—change her mind. “Come on.”

  He took her hand and led her toward the front door. He’d touched her that way when they were just friends, so he wasn’t going to stop now.

  “I did some reading on Quinn.” Her breath formed a visible cloud in the cold air. “He has his own hedge fund. I think that makes him wealthy enough to buy and sell small countries.”

  Gabe paused in front of the wide steps leading to the front door. “Someone once told me that success isn’t about making a buck. Remember?”

  She worried her lower lip, her uncertainty visible in her eyes as they stood under the bright porch lights. “Does anyone in the McNeill family believe that, though?”

  “As long as you believe it, that’s all that matters.” He didn’t like the idea of Brianne being intimidated by anyone in his family. He was already regretting the way their wedding photo had circulated with the caption referring to her as his anonymous gardener.

  Why hadn’t they simply used her name? She was so much more than her job.

  “I do believe that.” Nodding, she tucked her free hand into the pocket of her red parka. “Thank you for the reminder.”

  They headed up the stairs toward the eight-foot-tall double doors with matching sidelights. The design was impressive but his carpenter eye couldn’t help but reimagine the space. He rang the bell, then heard the latch turning and the right door swung wide.

  “Welcome, brother.” The tall guy who extended his hand had the look of the McNeills: the blue eyes, dark hair and same sharp jaw that Gabe saw in the mirror every day.

  But even in a relaxed pair of chinos and a dark button-down shirt, Quinn was a shade more refined than the others. Certainly more so than Gabe, Damon and Jager. Quinn’s hair looked like it saw a barber often, for one thing. For another, Gabe could spot the difference between his own custom-made shirts and the kind of threads Quinn sported. The personal tailoring took high-end to the next level.

  “Brianne, this is my oldest brother, Quinn. Quinn, I’d like you to meet my new wife, Brianne McNeill. Formerly Hanson.” He presented her quickly, hoping she wouldn’t be nervous.

  Her grin looked relaxed enough now. “Nice to meet you, Quinn. And excuse me for gawking, but the family resemblance is uncanny.”

  If anyone was gawking, it was Gabe. At her. She was so beautiful. So charming and unpretentious with her warm smile. His chest ached at the thought of disappointing her somehow. He’s been her husband for a day and he was already screwing up his marriage.

  Quinn smiled warmly at her as he took their coats and hung them in a nearby closet. “I understand completely since I still do a double take when I see Cameron with Damon. Welcome to the rapidly expanding McNeill family. Come on in. Gramps can’t wait to meet you.”

  Gabe took in the relaxed decor of the ranch house. The rooms were sprawling and emphasized space over furnishings, although perhaps that was because the place had been on the market.

  “Rapidly expanding?” Brianne seized on Quinn’s words as they strode deeper into the house, past a main-floor guest room, formal dining room and a bar area, every room well lit.

  The scent of a meal hung in the air. There were savory spices and a lemony sweetness, too.

  “Sorry.” Quinn paused by a series of cowboy paintings in the wide corridor. “I didn’t mean that to be as crass as it sounded. I’ve just been going a few rounds with Gramps, trying to ascertain the full extent of the family history before he springs any more relatives on us.”

  “You can’t blame Malcolm for my brothers and me,” Gabe reminded him. He’d come to terms with the fact that he had a useless father years ago, so he was hardly going to apologize for it. Quinn surely knew how it felt to have the man
check out on him. “That was all Liam’s doing.”

  “And from what we both know of our father’s global adventures, I wouldn’t be surprised if he reveals other offspring one day.” Quinn shrugged before he continued down the hall. “My frustration today is that Malcolm erased all traces of his older son from our world—no photos, no shared memories, no nothing. And then, twenty-seven years after his feud with the guy, he wants a reunion even though our uncle is clearly still hostile about the split.”

  “That’s a long time to hold a grudge,” Brianne said, lowering her voice as they stepped down into a sunken family room with leather couches and a huge, two-sided stone fireplace.

  Gabe spotted his grandfather already seated in a chair-and-a-half, a highball glass and folded copy of a New York newspaper on the cocktail table beside him.

  “Gramps, our guests are here,” Quinn called into the room.

  Automatically, Gabe slid an arm around Brianne’s waist. Was it a protective instinct? Or simply a chance to touch her when he craved being close to her? He breathed deep, hoping for a hint of her fragrance.

  “It’s a good thing.” Malcolm lifted a mahogany cane in a kind of salute toward them, but did not get to his feet. Silver-haired and blue-eyed, he wore an honest-to-God smoking jacket over his suit. The red-and-gold satin coat was belted at the waist. “Some of my grandsons are getting weary of my company, it seems. I need new relatives to bother.”

  Gabe drew Brianne over to his grandfather’s chair while Quinn followed behind them and said, “Gramps, you’re not a bother.”

  Malcolm winked at Gabe and extended his hand. “It’s an old man’s prerogative to be a pest to his family. Good to meet you, Gabe. It means a lot that you traveled all this way to see me.”

  Gabe ignored the extended hand and went in for the hug, giving his grandfather a squeeze around his shoulders. “Truth be told, I was glad to learn my father had quality people in his family. It gave me some hope for me.” He was only partly joking. He turned to Brianne. “Granddad, this is my wife, Brianne Hanson McNeill.”

  “Brianne.” Malcolm enveloped Brianne’s hand in both of his. “Welcome to the family, my dear.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She leaned closer and kissed the man’s cheek. “I don’t have much family of my own. I’ve been looking forward to meeting Gabe’s.”

  Malcolm fairly cackled at that. “You see, Quinn?” He turned in his chair toward his other grandson. “Not everyone is getting tired of having relatives.”

  “I like relatives just fine, Gramps. It’s secrets that I’m not so crazy about.” Quinn lifted his drink in a silent toast behind his grandfather’s head. “Gabe, there’s a wet bar against the far wall if you or Brianne would like a drink. I’m going to check on dinner.”

  Excusing himself, Quinn stepped away, leaving Gabe alone with Brianne and Malcolm.

  “Brianne, can I get you anything?” Gabe moved toward a granite-topped cart with a handful of decanted drinks.

  “Club soda or water would be great.” She took the seat closest to his grandfather, setting her beaded yellow clutch on the hearth nearby.

  While Gabe poured two drinks, he heard Malcolm settling back in his chair.

  “So how was your trip, my dear?” Malcolm asked her. “I know it was difficult to coordinate flights from opposite coasts.”

  Brianne paused a moment, as did Gabe. He glanced over his shoulder toward his grandfather, wondering if the older man’s health issues led to confusion sometimes.

  “Gabe and I flew together from New York, actually.” Brianne answered after a beat. “We thought a trip to Wyoming sounded like a fun honeymoon.”

  A drink in each hand, Gabe moved to rejoin them.

  Malcolm laughed as he retrieved his drink from the cocktail table. “A belated honeymoon, considering you have a son. How old is the boy again?”

  “Grandad, you must be confusing Brianne with my former wife.” Gabe passed her a glass and settled into the leather love seat next to her. “Brianne and I just got married yesterday.”

  Frowning, Malcolm picked at the belt on his smoking jacket. “You’re not the singer?” he asked finally, peering up at Brianne. “Flying in from LA?”

  Gabe tensed, knowing his ex-wife was the last topic Brianne would wish to discuss, especially given their disagreement the night before.

  “I’m a landscape designer,” Brianne said politely to clarify, though Gabe could see the stiff set to her shoulders. “Gabe’s ex-wife is a singer.”

  Malcolm’s frown deepened.

  “I fear I have been talking to the wrong person online.” Malcolm reached over to the cocktail table by his chair, knocking his newspaper off as he patted around for his cell phone. Turning on the screen, he thumbed through applications. “I got a direct message on Twitter after I announced a visit from Gabe and his wife.”

  A knot fisted in Gabe’s chest. Rising, he went to the older man’s side. Gabe glanced over at Brianne, but she stared into the flames snapping and popping in the huge fireplace. Her jaw was set.

  “Here it is.” Malcolm held up the phone so Gabe could see. “Theresa someone?”

  “Bauder.” Gabe tilted the screen so he could read without a glare. See you soon, Gramps. Where are you staying this week?

  Brianne’s head whipped around. “Does she have this address?”

  Malcolm shook his head. “I’m so sorry, Brianne. I thought I was talking to—”

  “Gabe’s wife,” she said, finishing for him, her polite smile tight. “It’s an understandable mistake.”

  Anger simmered that Gabe’s ex-wife would pull a stunt like this. He thumbed through the exchange, which included directions to the Cheyenne ranch, small talk about Jason—which was rich considering she hadn’t seen her son in months—and an assurance she would arrive “soon” for a visit.

  “But I would have never invited her if I had realized...” Malcolm trailed off, clearly flustered. “Maybe Quinn will have an idea how we can fix this. Or I could message her—”

  “No need.” Brianne rose from her seat and laid a comforting hand on his arm. “Please don’t worry on my account. It’s fine. And considering how little notice Theresa had about this marriage, I don’t blame her for the confusion, either.” She lifted her dark gaze to Gabe. “I think a family meeting is overdue.”

  Twelve

  Every time the doorbell rang at the ranch house, Brianne held her breath, convinced that Gabe’s ex-wife would come waltzing into the living room with her music-industry entourage and couture clothes. Although Brianne had never had much direct interaction with the woman when Theresa had resided at the Birdsong, Brianne sure remembered the emotional wreckage after her defection. Gabe had poured everything into convincing her to return home. How would he feel to see her again? Of course, as protective as Brianne might be about him, those emotions were a double-edged sword since any pain Gabe might experience could also indicate his feelings for Theresa still lingered.

  By comparison, meeting Gabe’s Wyoming cousins tonight suddenly seemed far less intimidating.

  During the cocktail hour before dinner, Brianne received an education on Donovan McNeill’s offspring, half of whom had agreed to give their grandfather a chance and shown up at the evening gathering. At least trying to keep the McNeill relatives straight helped Brianne take her mind off Theresa Bauder’s possible appearance—and what that might mean to Gabe.

  Malcolm had chosen to rent out this particular ranch house because it sat between a handful of properties northwest of Cheyenne owned by Donovan McNeill’s family members, making it easy for them to travel here. Donovan had three sons with his first wife, ranch heiress Kara Calderon. Their oldest two boys were twins, Cody and Carson. The youngest, Brock, was the only one of Donovan’s sons slated to show up this evening, though he hadn’t arrived yet.

  When Donovan’s first wife died just a few
years after Brock was born, Donovan had married local bartender Page Samara, with whom he had three girls, Madeline, Maisie and Scarlett. Maisie had arrived first tonight—on horseback in the dark, which apparently wasn’t as dangerous as it sounded if you knew the terrain as well as she did. Dressed in jeans and red leather boots, Maisie’s white blouse and long, angora sweater vest had a Western vibe without being too kitschy. No more than twenty-five, Maisie sat in a corner of the living room drinking Chivas with her grandfather and relating the story of an accident in the lambing pen—whatever that was.

  Her dark hair was chin-length and blunt-cut, her blue eyes paler than those of the McNeill men Brianne had met so far. Maisie was beautiful, utterly self-possessed and had a dry sense of humor. So, with that being Brianne’s first introduction to Gabe’s cousins, she was unprepared for Scarlett, the youngest of the siblings, who breezed in wearing an ice-blue lace dress, white go-go boots and dark hair with bangs, curls and crystal barrettes.

  “Greetings, family!” She hailed Brianne and Gabe from the doorway, waving both arms as she spotted them on the other side of the living room.

  Quinn was still trying to take her coat—a shearling jacket as long as her dress—yet Scarlett didn’t stand still long enough, and came rushing down into the sunken living room with her arms wide.

  Luckily, Gabe set down his drink before she reached him so that when she flung her arms around him, he didn’t spill anything.

  “It’s great to meet you!” she trilled before edging back to study him more closely. “A McNeill who doesn’t wear boots. I love it.” She hugged him again before turning her bright blue gaze to Brianne. “Hi.” She smiled crookedly. “You’re totally gorgeous, but not who I was expecting. Gramps said—”

  “Looks like your ticket to Los Angeles didn’t pan out,” Maisie said from her spot on the couch, patting the seat next to her. “Sit by me and I’ll catch you up to speed on how Granddad mixed up our cousin’s wives.”