Ryder's Wife

by Sharon Sala

  Revisit a fan-favorite Justice Brothers romance from New York Times best-selling author Sharon Sala

  First comes marriage…

  Beautiful heiress Casey Ruban needed a husband—fast. So she raced into the nearest honky-tonk and made her offer—full marital privileges in exchange for a wedding ring. It was an offer one man couldn’t refuse.

  Then comes love?

  Once, Ryder Justice had everything. Now all he had was nothing to lose. But when the brooding ex-pilot agreed to marry the desperate woman in front of him, just for a year, he soon realized that not only did he have something to lose, he’d already lost it. His heart—and his soul—belonged to his new wife.

  Originally published in 1997

  RYDER’S WIFE

  SHARON SALA

  CONTENTS

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Epilogue

  PROLOGUE

  December—on the plains near Abilene, Texas

  Heat penetrated the black void of unconsciousness in which Ryder Justice was drifting. Even in the depths from which he was trying to escape, he smelled the hair burning on the backs of his arms and knew another level of fear. He moaned, and the movement of air through his lungs yanked him rudely into the now. Gritting his teeth against the pain racking his every breath, he struggled to sit upright. Acrid smoke drifted up his nose, mingling with the coppery taste of fresh blood as he fumbled with the latch to his seat belt. That which had most probably saved his life was now holding him hostage.

  A sheet of rain blew in the broken window to his left and into his eyes. It was as effective as a slap in the face. Cognizance returned full force.

  Just beyond the crumpled cockpit, he could see flames licking at the metal and eating their way toward him, and he remembered being up in the sky, and getting caught in the storm. A stroke of lightning lit up the night sky and he flinched as he remembered another bolt of lightning and how the plane had shuddered, then rocked. And afterward, the sensation of an electric free fall.

  An instinct for survival pushed past the misery of broken ribs and bleeding cuts, past the bone-jarring ache that came with every movement, every breath. He’d survived being struck by lightning. The plane had crashed and he was still alive to tell the tale. By God, he would not sit here and burn to death when he still had legs to crawl.

  And at that moment, he remembered he was not alone. He turned.

  “Dad?”

  Another streak of lightning snaked across the sky, momentarily illuminating what was left of the cabin. After that, Ryder had only the encroaching fire by which to see, but it was more than enough. Stunned by the horror of what the crash had done to Micah Justice, he refused to believe what his mind already knew.

  The straps holding him in place suddenly came free and Ryder struggled to get out of his seat. Ignoring wave after wave of pain-filled nausea, he freed his father from the seat and managed to get them both out of the wreckage and into the falling rain.

  Sometimes crawling, sometimes pushing, he dragged himself and his father’s lifeless body until he found himself beneath some sort of overhang.

  Shivering from pain, shock, and the chill of rain-soaked clothing, he scooted as far back as he could get beneath the outcropping of rocks, pulling Micah’s body with him, then cradling his father’s head against his chest as he would have a sleeping child.

  A gust of wind cornered the overhang, blowing rain and a peppering of hail on Ryder’s outstretched legs, and at that moment the fuselage blew, erupting into the night in an orange ball of fire. Ryder closed his eyes against the blast, and held his father that much tighter, refusing to accept the motion as wasted effort.

  “Dad?”

  Again, Micah Justice did not answer. There was no familiar, sarcastic chuckle, no awkward pat from a strong man’s hands for comfort. Ryder buried his face against the back of his father’s shirt and took a long, aching breath. He knew, but his heart wasn’t ready to face the truth.

  “Dad…come on, Dad. You can do this. You’ve told me time and time again that it takes a hell of a lot to put a Justice man down.”

  Thunder rumbled across the sky, and the deep, angry rumble sounded like his heart felt as grief began to settle. His arms tightened around his father’s body, and for the first time since the accident had happened, tears began to fall, mingling with the raindrops clinging to Ryder’s scorched and battered face.

  Holding his father close, he began to rock, muttering beneath his breath and in his father’s ear, although Micah Justice had already moved beyond the sound of his second son’s voice.

  “Please, Dad, talk to me.” Ryder’s voice broke. “Dad…Daddy, don’t do this,” he pleaded. “Don’t leave us. We need you. All of us need you. Roman will go to hell without you on his case… and Royal, think of Royal. What will happen to the ranch and Royal if you don’t wake up?”

  A second explosion followed on the tail of the first—smaller, but still powerful in intensity. Bits of burning metal shot up into the sky and then fell down upon the ground nearby. Another flash of lightning, this time closer, revealed more of the truth Ryder Justice had been trying to deny. Micah was dead. Probably upon impact. And he was left with an inescapable fact. His father was dead, and he’d been piloting the plane. This time, when thunder rumbled overhead, it drowned out the sounds of Ryder Justice’s grief.

  CHAPTER 1

  July—Ruban Crossing, Mississippi

  “Casey, darling, you should never wear black. It makes you look like a crow.”

  Before Casey could take offense at what her half brother, Miles Dunn just said, he took a seat with the rest of the Ruban family, who were gathering for the reading of Delaney Ruban’s will.

  She picked a piece of lint from the skirt of her black silk dress and tilted her chin, reminding herself that she wasn’t going to cry. Not now, and especially not in front of Lash Marlow, her grandfather’s lawyer. Although he was sitting behind his desk and watching each arrival with a focused, predatory gaze, Casey was aware that he was also watching her every move. And it had been that way with them for more years than she cared to remember.

  In spite of her love for her grandfather, Delaney Ruban, and in spite of Delaney’s hopes that she and Lash might someday marry, Casey had been unable to bring herself to comply.

  She’d been a willing student of Delaney’s tutorial with regards to the Ruban empire, but she refused to give up what passed as the personal portion of her life. It didn’t amount to much, but it was all she had that she could honestly call her own. Even more important, she didn’t love Lash Marlow and had no intention of spending the rest of her life with a man who measured the value of a person by monetary worth.

  She shifted nervously in her seat, wishing this day to be over. As Delaney’s closest living relative and the heir who had been groomed to take over the vast Ruban holdings, she knew the task that lay ahead of her, right down to how many family members would be looking to her for sustenance.

  Not for the first time since her grandfather’s stroke six weeks ago did she wish her father and mother were still alive. And, if Chip Ruban hadn’t taken his wife, Alysa, to Hawaii for their tenth wedding anniversary, they might still be. But he had, and they’d drowned in a boating accident off the coast of Oahu, leaving their only child, six-year-old Casey, as well as Alysa’s ten-year-old twins from a previous marriage, to be
raised by an absent and overbearing grandfather who quickly pawned off those duties to someone else.

  Alysa’s mother, Eudora Deathridge, was moved into the mansion and given full authority and responsibility of her daughter’s children. And although she was Casey’s grandmother as well, Casey found herself grasping for space in a lap already too full for one more small, six-year-old girl.

  With the instinct of a child who knows where she is loved, she turned to Joshua Bass and his wife, Matilda. The butler and the cook. The kitchen became the center of her universe. In Tilly Bass’s loving arms, she learned to trust and love again. On Joshua’s shoulders, she saw the world in which she lived from a new and different angle, and in doing so, learned not to be afraid of reaching for the stars. They became the surrogate parents she had needed, and now, twenty years later, they were the anchors that kept her life on a straight and honorable path.

  And while Tilly and Joshua nurtured and loved her, at thirteen years old, Casey suddenly became the focus of Delaney Ruban’s world. He had looked up one day and realized that he wasn’t getting any younger, and since Casey was his son’s only child, she was, of course, to be his heir.

  He looked for the child he’d all but ignored and found a girl on the brink of womanhood. Elated that she’d grown up so well without much of his effort, he decided that it was time she branched out past the familiarity of her school, her friends and Tilly Bass’s kitchen.

  And so it began. The treat of accompanying him on business trips became the first step in a lifelong education. Before long, Casey was spending all of her summers with him at his office. At first, she blossomed under his tutoring. Her grandfather had never given her anything but presents, and now he was sharing his time with her. It took the better part of Casey’s teenage years before she realized Delaney’s reasons for spending time with her were selfish. Someone must step into his shoes when he was gone. He’d decided it would be Casey.

  And now, at twenty-six, Casey was about to become CEO of a multimillion-dollar corporation with holdings in everything from cotton mills to racehorses. Thanks to the last ten years of Delaney’s coaching, she was more than up to the task.

  A low murmur of indistinguishable voices hummed behind her like a worn-out motor, rising and falling with the advent of each new person to enter the room. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. It wasn’t the job that daunted her. It was those who were gathering. They were the ones who would be waiting for her to fail.

  Someone else touched her on the shoulder. She looked up. It was her sister, Erica.

  “Nice dress, Casey darling.” Erica’s eyes glittered sharply as she fingered the fabric. “I suppose it has a silver lining, too. Just like your life.”

  “Erica, really,” Eudora Deathridge said, and gave her eldest granddaughter a none-too-gentle nudge as they moved past Casey to take their seats.

  Casey let the comment roll off her shoulders, and as the women passed by her Eudora squeezed Casey’s arm. It was nothing new. Miles and Erica had begrudged Casey everything from the day she was born—from being a Ruban, to being the one Delaney had chosen to follow in his footsteps. In all their lives, they had shared a mother, but little else.

  Lash Marlow cleared his throat, well aware that the sound added to the building tension. “I believe we are all here now. Shall we begin?”

  Casey’s pulse accelerated. She gripped the arms of the chair, focusing on the man behind the desk and was struck by an odd, almost satisfied smile on Lash’s face. Reluctantly, she accepted the fact that he was privy to secrets about their lives she wished he did not know. It made her feel vulnerable, and vulnerability was a weakness Rubans were not allowed to feel. She watched as Marlow shifted in his seat and straightened the papers in front of him. It was the will. Delaney’s will.

  Fresh tears spiked her lashes as she struggled with composure, trying to come to terms with the fact that Delaney was dead. He’d been such a large and vital man that overlooking his age had been simple. But nature had not been as kind. Despite his ebullient personality and lust for life, the past eighty-two years had taken their toll. And no matter how hard he had tried to ignore the inevitable, he had failed.

  Ultimately, Lash began to read and Casey’s mind wandered, only now and then tuning in on his voice as it droned into the ominous quiet of the room. Once in a while a low murmur of voices became noticeable behind her, and she supposed Miles and Erica were voicing their opinions of the bequeathals being read.

  “And to my beloved granddaughter, Casey Dee Ruban…”

  Casey shook off the fugue in which she’d been hanging and focused.

  “…the bulk of my estate and the home in which she’s been residing since her parents’ death, as well as the controlling reins of Ruban Enterprises. But to inherit…”

  Startled, her gaze slid from the papers in Lash’s hands to his face. What did he mean… to inherit? Have mercy, what has Delaney done?

  “To qualify for the entire aforementioned inheritance, my granddaughter, Casey Dee Ruban, must marry within forty-eight hours of the reading of my will, and must live with her husband, in his residence and under his protection, for the duration of at least one year, or she will forfeit her birthright. If she chooses not to adhere to my last request, then the bulk of my estate will be deeded to my step-grandchildren, Miles and Erica Dunn.”

  Casey stood. Rage, coupled with a shock she couldn’t deny made her shake, but the tremor never reached her voice. She looked at Lash: at his cool, handsome face, his blond, wavy hair, his pale green eyes. Her eyes darkened as she leaned forward, bracing herself against his desk.

  “Surely I cannot be held to this!”

  To his credit. Lash’s gaze never wavered. “I’m sorry, Casey. I know this must come as a shock, but I can assure you it’s legal. Your grandfather was of sound mind and body when this was written. I tried to talk him out of such an unreasonable clause, but…”

  When Lash shrugged, as if to say it was out of his hands, she looked away.

  Someone choked in the back of the room. Casey didn’t have to look to know that it was probably Miles, reveling in his unexpected windfall.

  A red haze swam before her eyes and she willed herself not to faint. Marry? She hadn’t seriously dated a man in over five years. The only man who persisted in being a part of her life was…

  She looked up. The expression on Lash’s face was too calm, almost expectant. How long had he known about this? Even worse, what had he and Delaney planned?

  She swayed, staggered by the idea of being bound to Lash Marlow by law, as well as in the eyes of God, even for so much as a year.

  Lash stood. His voice was low, his touch solicitous as he tried to take her in his arms.

  “Casey, I’m here. Let me help you—”

  She stepped back. The selfish glitter in Lash’s eyes was too obvious to ignore.

  Damn you, Delaney, damn you to hell.

  She walked out of the room, leaving those behind to wonder what the outcome might be.

  * * *

  Hours later, the sun was about to set on the day as a lowslung black sports car rounded the corner of an unpaved road down in the flatlands. The trailing rooster tail of dust was evidence of how fast the car was traveling. The skid the car took as it cornered was proof of Casey Ruban’s desperate state of mind. She’d been driving for hours, trying to think of a way out of her dilemma without having to acquiesce to the terms of her grandfather’s will.

  By naming Miles and Erica as the recipients of his estate should she default, Delaney had been certain Casey would comply. He’d been well aware of her disdain for the sycophantic life-style her half brother and half sister had chosen to live. They were thirty years old. Both had college degrees. Neither saw fit to use them.

  Therefore, he had surmised that Casey would ultimately agree to his conditions. And he also knew Casey had no special man in her life, which would most certainly make Lash the prime candidate to fulfill the terms of the will. But he hadn’
t counted on Casey’s total defiance, or the wild streak of rebellion that had driven her deep into the Mississippi Delta.

  A short while later, the sun was gone and it was the time of evening when the world existed in shades of gray, faded by distance or muted by overlying shadows. Ahead, Casey could just make out the blinking lights on what appeared to be a roadhouse.

  The fact that Sonny’s Place was in the middle of nowhere was of no consequence to her. What mattered were the number of cars and pickup trucks parked outside the building. It stood to reason there would be a large number of men inside.

  Blinking back a fresh set of angry tears, she gritted her teeth, focusing on the decision she’d made. As she accelerated, her fingers gripped the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white.

  She turned into the parking lot in a skid, slamming on her brakes and barely missing a truck parked beneath the widespread limbs of an ancient oak. Gravel spewed, spit out from beneath the wheels of her sports car like a bad taste.

  Casey killed the engine and was out of the car before the dust had time to settle. There was a defiant tilt to her chin and determination in her stride as she started toward the entrance, yet when she stepped inside, a moment of unrefined terror swamped her. Dank air, thick smoke and the scent of stale beer hit her in the face like a slap. And then Lash’s smirk flashed in her mind and she let the door swing shut behind her.

  * * *

  Ryder Justice sat with his back to the wall, nursing the same beer he’d bought over an hour earlier. He hadn’t really wanted the drink, he’d just wanted a place to sit down.

  The months and the miles since he’d walked out on his family and his business had long ago run together. He didn’t know what day it was and didn’t really care. All that mattered was staying on the move. It was the only way he knew to stay ahead of the memories that had nearly driven him insane.

  A few words with the man at the next table had assured him he’d be sleeping on the ground again tonight. He was too far from a town to rent a room, and too nearly broke to consider wasting the money.