The Marriage Bargain Page 2

  “And he was a Kincaid?”

  “Larry Kincaid.”

  Victoria knew the stories about the Kincaids, even most of the stories about those who had passed away before her birth. No one grew up in Whitehorn without hearing them, despite the fact that there hadn’t been any Kincaids in Whitehorn for a stretch. Unless she was mistaken, Larry Kincaid was one of the less savory members of the family, having been a womanizer, a gambler and a drinker.

  “Larry Kincaid was your father?”

  “Apparently. Although when my birth mother told him she was pregnant they were both too young and scared to do anything about it and he just hightailed it home rather than own up to what he’d done. By the time his conscience got a hold over him and he tried to contact her again she’d already delivered me alone and in secret, dying in the process. I’d been given to my birth mother’s older sister and her husband to raise so Larry figured he’d leave well enough alone. That makes me the first of Larry Kincaid’s illegitimate sons, a Kincaid myself,” Adam explained.

  “The first illegitimate son?”

  “There are seven of us. It seems that Larry Kincaid had a few moments of regret about his escapades and during one of those moments he wrote down his amorous history and acknowledged the existence of his sons. He just sealed it away in an envelope in a safe-deposit box. After he died—of a heart attack in the middle of a bath while smoking and drinking—my grandfather found the envelope and decided to try doing right by his illegitimate grandsons. He arranged for us to meet here this spring to get to know each other. He means for this place to belong to us. If the deal goes through.”

  Victoria had left Whitehorn when she went to college and had been back only for occasional visits with her parents before they’d moved. Some news from Whitehorn her parents had kept her up on but not everything. Certainly not much of anything in the past three years since they’d left and conversations had revolved around her father’s health. So she wasn’t current on the goings-on in her old hometown.

  “What deal needs to go through for this place to belong to you?”

  “It’s a long story,” he said, clearly having no intention of telling it now. “You only need to know that I have every right to be here.”

  Oh, yeah, the man had a bone to pick with her, all right. His tone was as pointed as a saber.

  “Not that we’ll be here for more than tonight,” he continued. “I own a small spread at the foot of the mountains that’ll be more suited for our honeymoon.”

  He said that so derisively that he made it clear he didn’t intend their honeymoon to be a great deal of fun.

  But she opted for ignoring the entire subject and asking one more question about the Kincaid ranch. “If you own another ranch around here and you’re probably going to own this place, why buy ours? It isn’t half as big as this.”

  “As a matter of fact, yours is actually only a fraction the size of this one. This one is valued at ten million.”

  “So why bother with ours?”

  His mouth stretched into a smile she didn’t like. “Let’s call it comeuppance.”

  Or just plain revenge, she thought, feeling as if he’d confirmed her earlier musings.

  Another chill ran through Victoria but Adam didn’t seem to notice. Instead he swept a big, powerful hand in the direction of the ranch house, motioning for her to precede him to the front door.

  Every instinct in Victoria urged her to run the other way. To escape.

  But she knew she couldn’t do that. Her parents’ future depended on her. She had no doubt that were she not to go through with whatever Adam Benson had in mind, he’d do everything he could to crush them all.

  So she pulled her shoulders back, held her head high, and walked to the house with all the dignity she could muster, pretending she didn’t hear the soft, satisfied chuckle that came from behind her as he followed.

  Inside, the house was the same as she remembered it from years ago, except that now the furniture that had been so fashionable was dated. But still the place was large and comfortable and homey, although under the circumstances Victoria felt anything but at home.

  If anyone else was there, they didn’t come to greet them.

  “Are we alone here?” she asked.

  “For the moment. But we aren’t the only ones staying here, no.”

  He didn’t offer any more information, though. He merely stretched out a long arm, pointing to where she was to go, and he again followed her.

  “You’ll be in that room,” he said when they’d reached one of the seven bedrooms.

  Victoria turned into the well-appointed space where a big double bed made her mouth go dry.

  Would they be sharing it? she couldn’t help wondering with a tightening in the pit of her stomach.

  But he’d said she would be in this room. Not they. So maybe there was hope….

  “I’ll have your dinner sent in to you. Don’t stay up late. I want to make an early start of it tomorrow.”

  “Am I a prisoner here? Are you going to lock me in?” she asked. What he’d said and the way he’d said it caused her to think that might be so.

  “The ranch hands and the hired help don’t eat with the family, remember?”

  “’The ranch hands and the hired help,’” she repeated, surprised and disheartened to be categorized either way. “Which am I?”

  “Both,” he answered succinctly.

  But not family. Marriage didn’t make her family.

  “Fine,” she said as if he hadn’t stung her when, for some reason she didn’t understand, he had.

  Their eyes met then and locked together. His were as hard as steel.

  What have I gotten myself into? she thought.

  Despite the fact that she couldn’t be sure just how far she should push things, she said, “So the tables have turned, is that what you’re telling me? Now you’re the family and I’m the help?”

  “The tables have definitely turned,” he assured her.

  “And this marriage? What exactly will it entail?” she asked in a sudden burst of courage.

  “Anything and everything I decide it will entail,” he answered.

  “Until death do us part?”

  “Or until I’m satisfied.”

  “Satisfied?” In what way? she wanted to demand. But she couldn’t bring herself to.

  “Satisfied,” he repeated in confirmation.

  “And once you are? We’ll divorce and I’ll be free and you won’t do anything to harm my parents.”

  “Are you asking me if that’s the way it will be or telling me?”

  There was a challenge in his voice that said she’d better not be telling him that was the way it would be.

  “Is that the way it will be?” she reiterated.

  “Maybe. If you’re a good girl.”

  A good girl—the term and his condescending tone rankled. But she was certain it was meant to and refused to let it show.

  “So this won’t go on forever,” she concluded instead.

  “Forever? Literally? No, I don’t think so. But it may seem like forever to you.”

  Victoria didn’t say anything else. He was obviously enjoying this exchange and the power he had over her and she didn’t want to feed into that any more than she already had.

  Adam took his cue and said, “Be ready to go by seven-thirty tomorrow morning.”

  He spun on his heels then and walked out of the room.

  Victoria watched him go, hating that she couldn’t help but notice what a striking specimen of a man he was with those incredibly broad shoulders encased in the finest suit she’d ever seen.

  When he was gone and she was alone in the room, she took another deep breath, sighing it out this time in relief at knowing they wouldn’t be spending the night in the same bed, that he wouldn’t be forcing himself on her.

  But at the same time she also found herself wondering what it might have been like to meet up with him again under different circumstances, with neither o
f them carrying any kind of baggage from the past.

  And she also found herself thinking that if that had happened, deep down inside her there might have been a hint of the attraction for the man that she’d secretly harbored so long ago for the boy.

  Two

  After a wedding night spent sleepless for the wrong reasons, Adam had some doubts about the wisdom of forcing Victoria to marry him.

  Comeuppance. That was what he’d told her this was. That was his goal.

  But as he showered the next morning, he had to wonder what was going on with him.

  Leaving her alone in her room for dinner the night before was only the beginning of what he had planned for her. And it was appropriate. Certainly neither he nor his parents would ever have shared a meal with the Rutherfords.

  So why had the thought of her all by herself with a tray of food in an isolated bedroom taken away his own appetite? Why had he been thinking about her at all?

  He shouldn’t have been. That was the point.

  And now here he was feeling the damnedest twinge of something that seemed like eagerness to see her again. What was that all about?

  He wanted to believe he was just champing at the bit to get this revenge under way. But if he was honest with himself he had to admit that wasn’t all there was to it.

  And if that wasn’t all there was to it, then the plain and simple, clear-cut comeuppance he had in mind might be more complicated than he’d anticipated. Especially if he let himself feel anything that even bordered on attraction to Victoria Rutherford.

  Attraction?

  To Victoria Rutherford?

  Well, what else could account for his being eager to see her?

  But how could that be? After all the time that had passed, after all the murky water under the bridge, attraction to her was the last thing he’d thought he would feel.

  Satisfaction, yes. For bringing about a well-deserved retribution.

  But attraction?

  No. Never.

  He wouldn’t have it, that’s all there was to it.

  Yet, even with his mind set against it, things kept eating at him, anyway.

  Maybe there was something in the air in Whitehorn, he thought, disgusted with himself. Something that made him lose the control that served him so well everywhere else. Something that made him weak. That made him susceptible to Victoria Rutherford even as he was finally getting the chance he’d always wanted to give her back a little of her own medicine.

  Because he sure as hell hadn’t expected to set eyes on her and feel anything but the contempt she’d earned.

  But then, maybe setting eyes on her again was part of the problem.

  Why did she have to look so damned good?

  Why did she have to have that perfectly proportioned, compact little body with those breasts that barely peeked out from beneath that sweater and reminded him of things he didn’t want to remember?

  Why did she have to have skin that looked like smooth, flawless velvet?

  Why did she have to have that wavy blond hair that gleamed and glistened and danced around her shoulders in giddy delight, and made his hands itch to dive into it?

  Why did she have to have those big blue eyes the color of a field of cornflowers?

  Why did she have to have that small, perfect nose? Those small, perfect, shell-shaped ears? Those high cheekbones that left no one ever having to guess that she came from the best blue-blood stock?

  And why did she have to have those same lips that dipped down in the center and up so intriguingly at the corners and still had the power to make him lose his mind with wanting to kiss her?

  Damn her, anyway.

  And damn himself, too, for forgetting just how beautiful she was.

  And just how vulnerable to it all he’d always been.

  Adam realized suddenly that he was scrubbing his chest so hard that his own skin was beginning to get raw.

  He stopped and stepped under the shower spray to rinse off, wishing the water could wash away the thoughts of Victoria along with the soapsuds.

  He knew better than to let emotions enter the picture. Emotions clouded things. If he let himself have feelings every time he took over a company, every time he split it into parts and sold off the separate pieces, he never would have succeeded.

  And that was what he needed to remember now: no emotions. Get in, do what he wanted to do, get out. It worked in takeovers, it would work in this, too.

  After all, this wasn’t a marriage like the one between his half brother Cade Redstone and Leanne Harding the month before, he reminded himself. Theirs had been a love match. This was something else entirely.

  “This is comeuppance,” he muttered, hearing just the right amount of venom in the word to let him know he wasn’t losing sight of what she’d done, of the kind of person she was, of what she had coming to her.

  It didn’t make any difference what she looked like. It didn’t make any difference that deep below the surface he might have some faint stirrings for her left over from before she’d burned him and his whole family all those years ago.

  He could control it. He could keep it under wraps.

  He damn sure wouldn’t let it interfere with what he had planned for her.

  In the end, the reward in delivering his retribution would be so much better than anything that might come of some residual, misguided attraction.

  And if he put a little speed into finishing with his morning routine because he was anxious to get things under way, it had nothing to do with her hair or eyes or skin or the breasts he’d actually dreamed about when he had finally fallen asleep the night before.

  It only had to do with impatience to gain the reparations he was due.

  It didn’t have anything whatsoever to do with wanting to spring her from her makeshift exile or anything to do with wanting to see her again.

  He was sure of it.

  He’d make sure of it.

  If it was the last thing he ever did.

  “Crystal? Are you all right?”

  The sound of her aunt’s voice barely penetrated Crystal Cobbs’s thoughts. She yanked herself out of her reverie and turned to find Winona standing across the desk in the rear of the Stop-n-Swap she helped her aunt run.

  “I heard you scream back here,” Winona Cobbs said. She looked closely at her niece. “You look as if you’ve seen a ghost. What’s happened?”

  “N-nothing. Really, Aunt Winona, it’s…it’s nothing.”

  “You’ve had a vision, haven’t you?” Winona guessed.

  Crystal nodded her confirmation. She knew her aunt would understand. The visions Crystal had were similar to those Winona herself experienced. Even though Crystal didn’t want anyone else to know she had them, too, it was good to be able to confide in her aunt.

  “It just happened. I saw Christina Montgomery…out in the woods, of all places.” She stopped and took in a breath. “Aunt Winona, she was dying.”

  “Christina?” Winona asked. “Out in the woods? Somewhere you were familiar with? Or could point out to the sheriff?”

  Crystal shook her head. “It was just the woods. In the mountains, I think.”

  “You should tell Sheriff Rawlings or Deputy Ravencrest,” Winona advised. “That girl has been missing for too long and the sheriff’s department doesn’t seem to be getting any closer to finding her now than when she disappeared.”

  Crystal realized that was true but balked at the idea of revealing just how much like her aunt she really was by telling the sheriff or his deputy about her vision. She knew what happened when people found out about things like visions. She knew from seeing what had happened to her aunt. Winona was an oddity in Whitehorn. An outcast. And that wasn’t something Crystal wanted for herself now that she’d opted to stay in the small town. She had only intended to visit her aunt after Winona’s heart attack this past summer. But there was something about Whitehorn that had made her say goodbye to her Georgia home.

  “It was so vague,” she hedged. “I
don’t know what good it would do.”

  “You never know. But telling could send Rafe Rawlings and Sloan Ravencrest looking in the right direction or give them some clue as to what’s going on with the mayor’s daughter. It could lead them to find her.”

  Crystal considered that. She was torn. She knew only too well that all of Whitehorn was abuzz over the mayor’s youngest daughter. There had been some speculation around town that her less than pristine reputation as a flirt—and worse—had caught up with her and that she’d gotten pregnant by one of the many men she’d been seen with. But before anyone had confirmed that, she’d disappeared. Everyone was worried about her and the sheriff’s department was conducting an all-out search for her.

  If Crystal’s vision could help, how could she not let the sheriff know?

  But if she told him about it, her whole life could change. And not for the better.

  If only she truly believed her vision would make a difference….

  “What if I go to the sheriff and claim that I had the vision?” Winona offered in the midst of Crystal’s struggle with herself.

  That lifted Crystal’s spirits. “Would you do that?”

  Her aunt shrugged. “Folks around here already think I’m a kook. What difference does it make if they have one more piece of evidence to support it?”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Just give me all the details, no matter how insignificant they seem, and I’ll relay them to Rafe and Sloan. If it helps, fine. If it doesn’t, well, at least we didn’t withhold information that might have been useful.”

  Crystal breathed a sigh of relief. “I’d feel so much better if the sheriff knew,” she said. “Think about the guilt I’d have to live with if my vision had some bearing and I didn’t let anyone in on it.”

  “But you don’t want anybody thinking you might be as weird as I am,” Winona said with a laugh and without taking any offense. “I don’t blame you. It isn’t easy to have people think you’re off the beam. Now fill me in.”