Читать книгу Terms Of A Texas Marriage - Lauren Canan - Страница 8
ОглавлениеShea Hardin had to admit the man didn’t look like the devil. No horns sprouted up through Alec Morreston’s thick, expertly styled, mahogany-brown hair, although a few defiant tendrils fell lazily over his forehead. The wide mouth and well-defined lips, while appearing unrelenting, didn’t make it to a complete snarl. The near-perfect white teeth, seen briefly in the forced smile as introductions were made, didn’t include fangs. In fact, the sculpted features of his face had the potential to be exceedingly handsome, but the lack of any emotion other than cold indifference reduced that potential to tolerable. Just.
She’d sensed his glance several times since entering the conference room adjacent to her attorney’s office. She didn’t need to look in his direction to know he watched her, silently, recording his first impressions, probably sizing up her abilities, weighing her strengths, discreetly alert to any hint of weakness.
Feminine instinct told her his assessment wasn’t limited to her ability to handle this situation. He was also taking in every curve of her body, noting every breath she took, watching every move she made. It was a frank and candid assessment of her female attributes without any effort to conceal his interest. Intuition told her here was a man who knew what a woman needed and exactly how to provide it. His subtle arrogance was at once insulting and alluring.
She tried to swallow but her mouth had gone dry. Endeavoring not to appear affected by this man, she crossed her legs, shook the hair back from her face and fixed her eyes on the old pendulum wall clock. But in spite of her determination to ignore him, there was no denying the heat radiating throughout her body, inflaming her senses, fueling the unwanted need pooling in her lower belly.
Picking up a pencil, she scribbled furiously on the open notepad. She was reacting like a besotted teenager. How could she possibly feel any attraction whatsoever to this man? His chosen path in life was destroying the past; tearing down the treasured remains of bygone eras, replacing them with cold glass and steel fabrications. And this man wanted her ranch. The awareness of her body’s traitorous response both stunned and angered her.
She was not going to be intimidated—or enticed—by him or his attorney. The very reason they sat across from her should be enough to dispel any thoughts that Alec Morreston would ever be someone she’d want to know better.
“If everyone is ready, I suggest we begin,” said Ben Rucker, her attorney and longtime family friend. He switched on a small tape recorder sitting on the polished conference table amid the varying papers, notepads and legal documents.
“Today is April twenty-sixth. The purpose of this meeting is to address the issue of tenancy concerning the home and land currently occupied by Shea Hardin. In attendance are Alec Morreston, owner of the property, his attorney, Thomas Long, Shea Hardin and myself, Ben Rucker, legal counsel for Ms. Hardin.”
Shea smiled at Ben. His tired but astute gray eyes reflected his concern over the situation. He’d practiced law for almost forty years, and she had complete confidence in his abilities, as her father had before her.
“At the turn of the nineteenth century, five thousand one hundred and twenty acres of land running along the western boundary and into what is now the National Forest and Grassland Reserve in Calico County, Texas, were acquired by William Alec Morreston. Later that year, he transferred the entire parcel to a widow, Mary Josephine Hardin. Since that time, descendants of Mary Hardin have continued to live on the land, today licensed as the Bar H Ranch.”
Ben reached for his glasses, placed them on his nose and picked up his copy of the original paperwork.
“Rather than a purchase, this transfer of land was handled in a manner similar to what we today call a lease.” He glanced over the top of his glasses. “I believe you each have a copy of the original paperwork?” When everyone nodded, he continued. “You’ll note the duration was ninety-nine years with a renewal option.
“The first lease term was renewed by Cyrus Hardin, Shea’s great-grandfather. The second term, currently in effect, is due to expire at the end of this month—in five days, to be precise. Ms. Hardin would like to retain possession of the property. Mr. Morreston has indicated a desire to reclaim it for his own use. This can be achieved only if Ms. Hardin has not, or does not meet all of the renewal requirements by the end of the month.”
Shea glanced at Alec Morreston and once again encountered the full intensity of his gaze. A powerful energy emanated from him, the full force of it focused directly on her. She swallowed hard and looked away, ignoring the increasing tempo of her pulse.
“We didn’t inspect the house and outbuildings,” Mr. Long advised without preamble. “But we are satisfied that everything appears in satisfactory condition. We concede all stipulations relating to the condition of the property have been met.”
Shea closed her eyes as relief washed over her. Reaching out to Ben, she squeezed his arm and then looked at Mr. Long and Alec Morreston. So grateful they’d been honest in their findings, she even managed to send a stiff smile of thanks in his direction. He hesitantly tipped his head as if to say you’re welcome, but she couldn’t help but notice the raised eyebrow and the hint of a smirk in the hard lines of his face, almost as if he knew something she didn’t.
Shea returned her attention to Ben. He wasn’t smiling, and didn’t appear to share in her feeling of relief. No one switched off the tape recorder. No one stood up. It was as though a silent warning had begun to flash in a quickly ascending elevator, indicating the bottom was about to drop out.
“In addition to the condition of the property,” Ben said, still not meeting her glance. “Apparently the ancestors of Ms. Hardin and Mr. Morreston believed it necessary to add what I would describe as a personal clause.”
“Personal clause?” Frowning, Shea began to page through her copy of the old, handwritten document.
“On page four, about two-thirds down the page.” Ben removed his glasses and put down the paper as if he could recall the words from memory. His voice was quiet, his manner unusually gentle. “It states in addition to the actual upkeep, if the renewal of the lease is awarded to a woman, she must be legally wed by or before the expiration of the lease.”
Her head snapped up, staring at Ben’s face.
“What?” Her jaw dropped in astonishment. She frowned, not understanding or wanting to believe the implications of what she’d just heard.
“It further states—” Ben again donned the thick glasses and raised his chin, a motion that enabled him to use the lower, bi-focal portion of the lenses. “‘If the female lessee has no husband or betrothed, the oldest adult male, unmarried, in the Morreston family will be joined to her in matrimony, legally and spiritually, and they shall live as husband and wife for a period of not less than one year to ensure her protection against any and all perils, assist her with all ranching endeavors and ensure she is given fair and equal consideration.
“‘The failure of either party to meet these terms will result in the forfeiture of the property to the other. If a marriage does occur between the principal parties, such marriage can be terminated at the end of one year, and at such time the land will go to the Hardin family for another ninety-nine-year duration.’”
He sat back in his chair and tossed the documents onto the tabletop. “You gotta love the Morreston family chivalry.”
Silence momentarily filled the small room.
“For what it’s worth, Shea,” Ben said, “I’d guess the families were very close, and this was their way of ensuring the safety of any woman who might be single and head of household when the lease expired. As you know, it used to be a man’s world and a woman by herself didn’t have much of a chance. The one year marriage provision was probably intended to ensure she had full support with the ranch. If either didn’t want to stay married after that, they wouldn’t be required to do so. Ironically—” his eyes narrowed as he looked at Alec Morreston “—the clause was probably intended to protect any female of the Hardin family from the crooks who might try and take advantage of her.”
The only reaction from Alec Morreston was a deepening of the tiny lines around his eyes, a silent indication he found amusement in Ben’s assessment.
“But...” Leaning forward, she placed her elbows on the table for support and rubbed her fingers against her temple, willing her brain to click back into gear. “You’re saying...You’re telling me the lease can’t be renewed because I’m a single woman?”
“If I may,” Thomas Long interjected. “What it means, Ms. Hardin, in the simplest terms, is that in order for you to renew the lease you must currently be married or you must agree to marry Alec within the next five days and remain married for at least one year. If you don’t agree, the lease cancels. If Alec does not agree to such a marriage, should you choose that option, the lease will be renewed.”
For a few moments, speech was impossible. Her eyes remained fixed on Mr. Long as her mind tried to make some sense out of his words. She was stupefied.
“You’ve got to be kidding. This is a sick joke. It’s archaic.” Although attempting to remain calm, her resolve was quickly slipping away. “This kind of thing isn’t legal.” She looked at Ben, who sat quietly, tapping his pencil on the tabletop. “Is it?”
Ben hesitated for a few seconds as if trying to formulate his answer. “As far as I’ve been able to determine, the owner of the property could place any clause, requirement or restriction in the lease that he wished within the existing laws of the time. If the lessee agreed, it became a binding agreement. As to the question of whether it’s binding by today’s laws, it may very well not be.”
Hope flared within her.
“But the problem is, if we sue to have that clause stricken, the courts could declare the entire contract null and void, in which case Mr. Morreston is under absolutely no obligation to renew the lease. And, if the courts didn’t find the clause unlawful, by the time they handed down their decision, the deadline would be past. Either way...” Ben made a small gesture with his hands, his palms turned upward, indicating the hopelessness of the situation.
Shea sat back in her chair and stared out the large picture window. How could such a beautiful spring day suddenly turn so bleak and ugly? She trained her eyes squarely on Alec Morreston.
“You knew about this, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” he replied, his voice deep and throaty. “Thomas caught it and advised me a couple of months ago. You might want to ask your attorney why he didn’t see fit to inform you. Since he was obviously aware of your single marital status, it might have saved all of us a lot of time.”
Her glance swung to Ben, who shrugged and shook his head. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I thought Mr. Morreston would view the outlandish clause for what it is. It never occurred to me he’d use it to his advantage to try and reclaim possession of the land.”
“I don’t believe it,” she muttered. “I don’t believe any of this. Are you all trying to tell me I’ve got to take this...insanity seriously? That I’m going to lose my home, my ranch, everything my father and his father before that worked for, because I’m not married and won’t marry him?”
The tone in her voice clearly painted the “him” as something disgusting and vile—which, at that moment, was spot-on. In spite of his sexual charisma, her conscious mind told her Alec Morreston was nothing more than a cold-blooded opportunist. And as far as this...lease...how could anyone in his right mind possibly make up such a stipulation?
“Your loss was taken into consideration, Ms. Hardin.” Alec pointedly ignored her outburst. His composed voice resonated through the thick silence that had temporarily blanketed the small room. “I’m willing to provide reimbursement for the structures on the property, including the house, as well as compensate for one year’s ranch income. And, of course, the proceeds from the sale of your livestock and equipment will be yours, provided you choose to sell rather than relocate.”
Shea glared at him, afraid to speak for fear it would release the torrent of fury welling up inside her. Comparing this man to the devil had been much too kind.
“In addition,” Morreston continued, “I’m willing to provide adequate time for you to find another residence. We understand the relocation process will take longer than the standard sixty days.”
“Alec is making a most generous offer, Ms. Hardin,” added Thomas Long, as though he felt compelled to point that out.
Ignoring the attorney, she focused directly on the source of this insanity, on the devil incarnate. Sitting casually back in his chair, he appeared relaxed and completely indifferent to what amounted to the end of life as she knew it. Her basic principles, her education, her future dreams, pride in her family—all of it rested within the boundaries of the ranch. She couldn’t imagine what her life would be without it.
“Why are you doing this?” Her voice was firm and unwavering, but her heart pounded and her stomach tied itself into knots.
“It’s nothing personal, Ms. Hardin.” He tipped his head to one side as his eyes roamed over her face. “It’s just business.”
“Oh, really?” she challenged. “That’s what you call it? Destroying a person’s life is ‘just business?’” She shook her head in amazement. “You must think you’ll make a small fortune on this deal.”
“That’s always a possibility,” he admitted, shrugging his broad shoulders.
“I’m curious. What’s it going to be? A dude ranch for your city friends or cheap housing that will fall apart in ten years?”
“I don’t think Alec’s future plans for the land need discussion at this—”
“It’s good land in a prime location,” Alec answered her, interrupting his attorney. “And the time for its development has come.” His eyes never left her face, his tone hard and unemotional.
She couldn’t help but speculate if they would have been having this meeting if her dad were still alive. But common sense told her Morreston wanted the land and would have found other reasons to decline the renewal. This little “personal clause” was convenient and tailor-made to suit his purposes.
“You could omit the clause and renew the lease.”
“I could,” he admitted openly. “But I won’t.”
Silently she studied the hard, chiseled features of his face.
“Then there is no more to say, is there?” Standing, she gathered her papers and slipped them into the manila folder. She wouldn’t grovel before any man, especially some arrogant stranger from New York, particularly when she knew it would do no good. Her hands were trembling due to shock, but she refused to let these contemptuous strangers see any weakness.
“Ben.” She pressed her lips together to cover the trembling. “I assume you’ll be in touch about what needs to be done?”
On seeing his nod, she gave a tight smile and walked out of the room. Somehow, she cleared the outside door without slamming it. Only when she reached the sidewalk did her vision blur with unshed tears of anger and frustration. Seven months ago, she’d buried her father. And now, in the space of less than an hour, she’d learned she was losing her home.
She swallowed back the overwhelming sense of panic. The ranch was her haven, her security. It was her past as well as her future. Her father had entrusted it to her care and she’d promised him in his final moments that his efforts—and the efforts of all the Hardins before them—would not be in vain.
She was the last, the only one remaining, who could carry the Hardin legacy into tomorrow. Two hundred years of struggle and sacrifice, of unwavering strength, bravery and determination by her forefathers to fashion a better life from this small piece of earth, and now, the future rested squarely on her shoulders. The weight of it was staggering.
Slipping behind the wheel of her old Chevy pickup, Shea tried recalling elements of the discussion. Even though Ben had conducted the meeting, she knew Alec Morreston had carefully orchestrated and controlled the entire presentation. Right down to her walking out of the room. The deliberate downplay of some factors of the contract, the strong focus on others. He was good. She had to give him that.
But there was one thing she’d bet Morreston hadn’t taken into account. Her father had always said she was an obstinate, hardheaded female who never knew when to admit defeat. She had no intention of admitting failure so easily and giving in to that arrogant, money-grubbing son-of-a-bitch.
Maybe she would lose her home. But maybe she wouldn’t.
Ben had said she must be married before the contract expired. He hadn’t said she must be married to Alec Morreston, as his attorney had implied. Somewhere out there was a man who would agree to marry her for one year as a strictly business arrangement. She was going to find him.
She squared her shoulders with renewed conviction and started the truck. There was a lot to do and a very short time in which to do it.
* * *
Alec and Thomas gathered their respective documents and prepared to leave Ben Rucker’s office. Ms. Hardin’s abrupt exit from the meeting, while anticipated, had ended any further need for discussion.
Alec had to admit, he was impressed with Shea Hardin. She was not at all what he’d expected. In her midtwenties, she presented herself as having the maturity of someone much older. Even though this must have been devastating to her, she hadn’t shouted or cried or otherwise made a scene as so many others in her position might have done. She’d been upset, but that was understandable. Her parting words, quietly spoken to her attorney just before she’d left the room, indicated acceptance of the situation and what was to come.
But had she really given up? His success in business was due in large part to following his gut instincts. Rarely in his thirty-six years had those instincts let him down. Right now they were screaming that Shea Hardin had done anything but admit defeat.
From the top of the silky blond hair that fell in tousled disarray around her head to the tight jeans hugging her slim waist, then molding her sexy, feminine curves and long, slender legs, she was trouble with a capital T. If you added the delicate, almost angelic features of her face and the wide-eyed innocence of those amazing blue eyes, you had the makings of one hell of a problem. Shea Hardin would have no difficulty finding and persuading some spineless, misguided male to marry her for a year. She had five days to do it. And if she succeeded, he could kiss this project goodbye.
Alec regretted it had to be this way: that this young woman had to be forced out of her home. He’d experienced an uncomfortable twinge of regret even before her attorney had informed her of the hopelessness of her situation.
With a grimace, he tossed the last manila folder into his briefcase and closed it. Regret hadn’t been the only thing he’d felt. He couldn’t remember his libido ever reacting with the speed and intensity it had to Shea Hardin. A flash of insight told him sex with her would be hot and intense, mind-blowing in its fervor. Illogical anger flared at the idea of her marrying another man, lying in his bed. He shook his head to dispel the irrational notion. Under the circumstances, he’d be the last person on earth she’d ever let come near her.
As he snapped the locks on his briefcase closed, the idea ran through his mind that he should find her, apologize for this seizure of the land and...what?
He wasn’t backing away from this venture. He couldn’t. Too much time and money already had been invested. So, what good would it do to apologize? She would soon be out of a home, and no apology would change that fact.
As they walked out of the building and toward the parking lot, Alec couldn’t shake the idea that he shouldn’t be leaving just yet. And if he was honest, he didn’t know if it was concern about the land issue or a ridiculously illogical reluctance to walk away from Shea Hardin.
“Thomas,” he said as they reached the car, “drop me off at the local car-rental agency, then drive back into Dallas, to Dallas-Fort Worth International, and go on to Boston. Meet with Rolston in the morning and finalize the plans for construction of his new hotel. You know what we need. Get the contracts signed, and I’ll see you back in New York in a couple of days.”
“You’re staying here?” Thomas’s brows rose in surprise. “You really think that’s necessary?”
“Yeah. I have a feeling Ms. Hardin is not going to give in this easily.”
“Well, keep me posted.” Thomas opened the car door and tossed his suit coat inside. “Alec, don’t start feeling bad about this woman’s situation. You’ve offered her a lot of money that you didn’t have to and you’ve given her virtually all the time she needs to relocate. Hell, it’s your land.”
“Yeah, I hear you.” Alec nodded his head. “We’re on the same page. I should be here only a couple of days. I’ll call tonight and check on Scotty. Mom had the zoo scheduled for today. I have a feeling by now she should be about ready to go home.”
“Your mother is keeping your son?”
Alec nodded. “Ms. Bishop quit. And after just two weeks, her replacement was already looking a bit frazzled.” Alec shrugged. “Mother offered to come and stay with him. I flew her in from St. Petersburg just before we left to come here.”
Thomas chuckled. “That boy is four going on twenty-four.”
Alec smiled. “Don’t I know it.”
After arranging for a car, Alec eased the large sedan into the lane of traffic heading north. He should be on his way to Boston or back to New York. Instead, he was stuck in a rural north Texas town full of coyotes and cowboys, boots and brawls, dirt roads and bumper stickers proclaiming the South would rise again. He didn’t belong here. He didn’t want to be here. But he had to protect his right to this land. If it hadn’t been mentioned in the reading of his grandfather’s will, he wouldn’t have known of its existence. Now that he knew, he wasn’t about to let it slip through his hands.
The logical thing to do was to bring in a couple of his staff to keep an eye on things. But before the idea could begin to formulate, Shea Hardin’s face drifted into his mind, and he squelched the plan before it had a chance to develop.
* * *
“Thanks for coming over, Leona.” Shea pushed the screen door farther open, welcoming her neighbor onto the wide enclosed porch at the rear of the house. “I really do need your help.”
Three days had passed since the meeting in Ben’s office and Shea still hadn’t come up with a solid plan to save the ranch.
“Are you all right?” Leona squinted and gave Shea a cursory inspection. “You sounded terrible on the phone. Kinda scared me. I was afraid you’d gotten kicked by that damn stallion again.”
“I’m fine.” She smiled at the older woman. “At least physically. Come on in and I’ll fix us both a glass of tea.”
Leona Finch was the closest thing to a mother figure Shea had since her own mom died when she was five. Shea loved Leona dearly. In her midsixties, the sun-browned features of her face bore the wrinkles of a lifetime spent on a working ranch. Her speech was as rough as her skin. But she was sensitive, perceptive and in spite of her limited education, profoundly wise.
“So, if you’re not hurt, what’s the deal?” Leona walked into the kitchen, pulled out a chair and sat down at the table as Shea filled two glasses with ice.
She poured the freshly brewed tea and added a sprig of mint. Setting the glasses on the table, she took a seat across from Leona.
“I’ve...I’ve got a problem,” she began. “A big one.”
“Well, hell.” Leona took a sip of the tea and sat back in the chair. “There ain’t a problem that can’t be fixed. You tell me what’s got you so upset, and then we’ll figure out how to put it right.”
Shea gave her friend a strained smile. She was glad to have Leona on her side. She needed to hear a few of her unceasingly positive assurances that things would work out.
“I’m not sure exactly where to begin. Three days ago I was called to a meeting in Ben’s office. It’s so bizarre...” Her voice trailed off as she shook her head. Shea looked into her friend’s face.
“It seems I’ve got to find a husband,” she told Leona straight out. “And I have less than two days left to do it.”
