Читать книгу Handpicked Husband - Winnie Griggs - Страница 11

Chapter Three

Reggie’s thoughts raced, skittering in several directions at once.

How could he? This was a farce, a disaster. It was too manipulative for even a schemer like her grandfather.

Didn’t he know that if she’d wanted a husband, she could have landed one a long time ago? Didn’t he trust her to raise Jack right and properly on her own?

Why would Adam agree to such a harebrained scheme? Did he think she was the best he could hope for since his conviction? Or was it more that he thought he owed the judge a debt of some sort?

Merciful goodness, did he or Grandfather know she’d once been infatuated with him?

Her cheeks flamed at the thought. Oh, why hadn’t Adam gone away with the others?

Pull yourself together. You will not fall apart in front of him.

Reggie forced herself to relax her grip on the letter, commanded her racing pulse to slow.

She continued reading, trying to grasp what this meant. But her mind kept circling to the men her grandfather had sent. Adam’s reasons for wanting to start over in a place where he wasn’t known were obvious, but what could induce the others to take part? Did they also have something they were running from?

Another paragraph snagged her attention. Grandfather was bribing them to court her. They would each get a nice little prize for their part in this farce.

How could Grandfather humiliate her this way?

She barely had time to absorb that when she got her next little jolt. Adam was not one of her suitors after all. Instead, he’d come as her grandfather’s agent.

But why wasn’t he a candidate for her hand? Not that she wanted the ex-lawyer for a suitor. But still—did he think she wasn’t good enough for him? Or was Grandfather not as certain of the man’s character as he pretended?

Flicking the paper with a snap, Reggie read on. Grandfather had tasked Adam with escorting her “beaus” to Turnabout, making sure everyone understood the rules of the game, and then seeing that the rules were followed.

It was also his job to take Jack back to Philadelphia if she balked at the judge’s terms. Her grandfather would then pick out a suitable boarding school for the boy, robbing her of even the opportunity to share a home with him in Philadelphia.

Reggie cast a quick glance Adam’s way, and swallowed hard. She had no doubt he would carry out his orders right down to the letter.

No! That would not happen. Even if it meant she had to face the humiliation of a forced wedding, she wouldn’t let Jack be taken from her.

And hang Grandfather, he knew it.

One last surprise was buried in the closing. It seemed the forewarning she was supposed to get had been Adam’s idea and the judge had only pretended to go along. There never had been another letter. Grandfather freely admitted this, saying he knew better than to give her time to begin plotting a way to avoid her fate.

It took every ounce of control she had not to crumple the letter and fling it as far as she could. Of all the emotions boiling through her right now, the strongest was a deep frustration that Grandfather wasn’t standing here so she could give him a piece of her mind.

Gathering her outrage about her like battle armor, Reggie stood. Her gaze locked with that of the man who suddenly wielded so much power over her life.

She would not let him know how deeply betrayed, how humiliated she felt. “I assume you know about this scheme of my grandfather’s?” The flicker of relief in his expression wasn’t lost on her.

Happy not to have to explain things, was he?

He crossed his arms and leaned back. “Yes.”

She stalked closer, displeased with his one-word answer. “Then you know how completely irrational he’s being.”

“The judge has never struck me as an irrational man.” He shrugged those broad shoulders of his. “Autocratic and overbearing perhaps, but not irrational.”

Reggie was no longer in the mood for word games. She shook the letter in his face. “You don’t think playing matchmaker in this heavy-handed fashion irrational?”

He didn’t even blink. “I’m sure he has his reasons.”

“Reasons!” Realizing she’d shouted, Reggie took a deep breath and tried again. “He’s asking me to choose between hog-tying myself to one of these strangers or losing Jack.”

He remained unmoved. “Arranged marriages happen all the time. At least you get three to choose from.”

Reggie wanted to scream, to pound her fists against his chest, to claw his eyes out. Was the man made of stone? She hadn’t expected an overabundance of sympathy, but his calm attitude was infuriating. “Would it surprise you to learn that Grandfather lied to you about sending me word ahead of time?”

His brow drew down, but there was no other visible reaction. “And how would you know this?”

She shoved the letter toward him, pointing to the pertinent paragraph. “Because he told me.”

Adam glanced at the letter and she saw a flicker of something cross his face. But when he looked up, his expression held that same unshakable determination. “As I said, I’m sure he has his reasons.”

Reggie was determined to cut through his indifference. “So what do you get out of this blackmail scheme?”

His eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

She moved closer. “According to the letter, your companions are getting nice incentives to participate.” She fisted her hands on her hips. “What form does your thirty pieces of silver take?”

His ice-blue eyes stared at her with irritating dispassion. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I’m doing this mainly because the judge asked me to, and I owe him.” He tipped his hat back and crossed his ankles. “It’s as simple as that.”

“You owe him?” Reggie lowered her arms and glared. How she itched to wipe that calm expression from his too-handsome face.

The fact that he could still stir something in her besides anger only made this whole mess more maddening.

Reggie sniffed. “Because he stood by you during the trial, you mean?”

If she’d wanted to get an emotional reaction from him, she’d finally succeeded. He stiffened, his jaw clenched, and he looked as if he’d like to throttle her.

* * *

Adam felt that sense of injustice, of being branded unclean, of honor lost, wash over him again. He’d expected to be the target of her emotions once she read the letter, could even admire her for reacting with outrage rather than helpless tears.

But her disdain gnawed at him.

Foolishly, he’d assumed Miss Nash shared her grandfather’s opinion on his conviction. The exchanges they’d had up until now had only reinforced that assumption. They’d been heated and challenging, but had seemed tempered by a degree of mutual respect.

Apparently he’d read her wrong.

So be it. He’d quit trying to change people’s minds about his innocence with mere words long ago. It was proof he needed, and proof he was determined to get. Just as soon as he finished this business and could get back to Philadelphia.

“The relationship I have with the judge,” he said evenly, “and what it’s based on, is also none of your business. As I’m sure it states in that letter you’re waving around, he trusts me enough to send me here to preside over this arrangement.”

“But not enough to be completely honest with you.”

He tightened his jaw, but let that barb pass. “What does concern you are the terms the judge outlined, and my duty to see them carried out as he intended.”

She narrowed her eyes. “So, just like that, I’m supposed to line up three strangers, look them over, and pick one to be my husband.”

If only she’d get it over with that quickly.

But an adversarial attitude wouldn’t help him. Time to use the two main tools he’d learned as a lawyer—reason and persuasion. “I understand this is not the best situation to find yourself in. But you must know your grandfather would never send you a man he didn’t have complete confidence in.”

She raised a skeptical brow and he hurried on. “That being so, it’s a given that any one of them should to make you a good husband. And they won’t be strangers forever. After all, you have two weeks to get to know them.”

The thought of having to cool his heels here even that long was frustrating. He’d already had to wait for what seemed an eternity.

“Two weeks,” she repeated, her voice ending on a squeak.

He grimaced as the color drained from her face. So, Judge Madison hadn’t put everything in his letter after all. Hang the old conniver for his sly games.

“According to the terms your grandfather has laid down,” he explained, “you have two weeks to select your groom, and then another week to plan your wedding.”

“All the time in the world,” she said bitterly.

She looked so brittle—vulnerable almost. He felt an unwanted stirring of sympathy, but pushed it ruthlessly aside.

“There’s no point fighting this,” he said, hoping she would see reason. “They’re all good men, but different enough to give you a real choice. I’m certain you’ll decide which you find most compatible in that period of time.”

“Are you now?” The vulnerable air evaporated, replaced by the scorching look and frigid tone she’d brandished before.

So much for his stirring of sympathy. Obviously, she could hold her own in any war of words.

“As for this contract—” her chin titled up at a militant angle “—I’m sure I’ll need time to study it, perhaps have a lawyer look it over, before I sign.”

He was here to help her through this. “I’d be glad to explain any—”

“I’d as soon ask a heathen to explain a scripture.”

Adam tightened his jaw. Taking a slow, deep breath, he decided to let that one pass as well. She’d been backed into a corner and it was only natural that she’d lash out.

“Have it your way. But don’t think by putting off signing you can delay the deadline. According to the judge’s instructions, your two weeks start when you meet your suitors.”

Suspicion flashed in her eyes. “Tell me, Mr. Barr, why did you drag those men out here rather than leave them in Turnabout and deliver the news alone? Or better yet, wait for me to return, since someone in town likely mentioned I’d be back inside of a week?”

She pointed a finger at him and he could almost see it tremble with the urge to poke him. “It was because you wanted to start the clock ticking on this ridiculous scheme as soon as possible, wasn’t it?”

The woman was too perceptive for her own good.

She must have sensed her words had hit their mark, because she tore into him again, this time her finger actually jabbing his chest to underline her words. “Of all the insensitive, ungentlemanly actions. You just couldn’t wait to deliver this little ultimatum.”

She gave his chest another jab. “You had to come racing out here to spoil our outing just so you could hurry things along.”

The woman presumed too much. Adam captured the offending finger. “Miss Nash, I haven’t claimed to be a gentleman in quite some time.”

Her eyes widened and a flush blossomed on her cheeks. Her reaction told him her aggressive contact had been unintentional. After another moment to make his point, he released her.

She snatched her hand back as if stung.

“What’s done is done,” he continued. “As you so eloquently stated, the clock has started ticking, and there’s no setting the hands back.”

It didn’t take her long to recover. Her shoulders drew back before he’d stopped talking.

“Doesn’t it matter that I don’t want a husband?” She flung the words like rocks. “That I think turning control of my life and possessions over to someone else simply because he’s a man is akin to slavery?”

She threw up her arms. “Why does every male think the sum total of a woman’s ambition should be to find someone to marry so she can go straight from her father’s care to her husband’s?”

He’d never met a female like her before. No wonder the judge felt compelled to take such a drastic step. “I personally don’t care a jot whether you marry one of these men or not. In fact, my only concern in this affair is to see that Judge Madison’s wishes are carried out.”

He leaned back again. “Now, part of his instructions was that I make certain your interests are protected—within the scope of his plans, of course. But that doesn’t mean I can let you ignore the rules. On that score I’ll be scrupulously, might I say ruthlessly, single-minded.”

By the stiffening of her spine, he knew she’d gotten the message.

“In other words, I’d advise you not to use any of your feminine wiles on me. It’ll do you no good to try to play on my sympathy. I have none. It’ll do you no good to try to bribe me. There’s nothing you could offer to make me betray the judge. And as for trying to seduce me—” he shrugged “—let’s just say it’d be wasted effort.”

From the way her hands curled, he’d guess he was lucky she didn’t have a club handy.

My, but the lady did have a temper.

“Mr. Barr.” She enunciated each word clearly. “I have no intention of using wiles, feminine or otherwise. I intend to be forthright in my dealings with you and the other gents, and I expect the same in return.”

She impatiently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and his focus shifted to the soft wisps framing her face. How long had it been since he’d stroked a woman’s hair?

He straightened abruptly and swallowed an oath. There was no room in his life right now for thoughts like that, especially when it came to the judge’s granddaughter.

Pushing away from the rail, he stepped down, wanting to put distance between them. “I’ll get the contract.”

He wondered, not for the first time, why Judge Madison hadn’t considered him as a suitor for his granddaughter. Not that Adam wanted to tie himself down with a wife right now—but it stung that he hadn’t been on the list of candidates. What did her grandfather see in the others that was missing in him? Had the time he spent in jail tarnished him in the judge’s eyes as well?

He had to clear his name soon. Only then would he have any chance of living a normal life.

“Grandfather actually expects me to sign a contract agreeing to his addle-pated plan?” The words bristled with outrage, a hint of the banshee they’d encountered earlier coming through.

“All parties to the contract are required to sign.” Adam jerked the packet from his satchel. “The other three signed it, I signed it, even your grandfather signed it. Now it’s your turn.”

She accepted the papers as if he’d handed her smelly rags. “I’ve never heard of the livestock being haggled over signing the bill of sale along with the buyer and seller.”

Her tongue was as sharp as any knife he’d wielded. She’d make a good lawyer. Adam was beginning to believe the judge had decided not to come for reasons other than the ones he’d stated. “If you refuse, then Jack and I board the next train to Philadelphia.”

She snapped the papers with a humph and started reading.

If she was looking for loopholes, she’d be disappointed. The judge had drawn up the document and then had Adam review every syllable. Adam would bet the horse he rode in on that it was ironclad.

Adam wondered which of the men would end up escorting the reluctant bride to the altar.

Everett seemed the best equipped to deal with her lethal tongue. The educated cynic would give as good as he got in that department. Then again, he might consider himself too sophisticated for a lady who appeared equally comfortable in overalls as a dress.

Mitchell, on the other hand, wouldn’t mind her provincial ways. He didn’t let much rattle him. Always searching for the middle ground, Mitchell had defused several tense moments during their trip. But did he have the determination required to deal with the overbearing Miss Nash? His size not withstanding, the woman would likely ride roughshod right over him.

If a peaceful life was what Mitchell wanted, he wouldn’t get it hitched to this virago.

That left Chance. The boy was younger than the potential bride, and rebellious enough to stand up to a riled bear, so Adam didn’t think she would intimidate him. Adam suspected, though, in a battle of wills, Miss Nash would come out the winner.

Besides, would it be fair to shackle the kid to a wife before he’d had a taste of the independence he so obviously craved?

Judge Madison had been adamant, though, that one of the men he was sending here was the perfect match for his granddaughter. He also insisted she would realize it herself, as soon as she bowed to the inevitable and got to know them.

Adam watched the emotions flash across her volatile features as she poured over the contract.

He wouldn’t want to be in the position the three others found themselves in, and he certainly wouldn’t want to be the one to have to do the picking.

* * *

Reggie stared at the contract, the words blurring into a meaningless jumble. There had to be a way out of this. Marriage wasn’t an option for her. It hadn’t been for a long time.

If only her grandfather had come himself so she could talk to him, could read his expression, hear the shades of meaning in his voice as they discussed this.

He’d never understood her easy acceptance of maiden aunt status, but she never dreamed he’d take things this far, even if he did believe it was “for her own good.”

Clearing her head from the useless what-ifs, Reggie forced herself to read the contract. It appeared to say the same thing as the letter, but in more formal terms. One thing she did learn, however, was exactly what each of her suitors stood to gain from the arrangement.

Everett Fulton would be set up with his own newspaper press, a first for Turnabout.

Mitchell Parker would be given a house in town and a job as teacher, thanks to the new wing the judge was having built onto the schoolhouse. Ahh, so that was the motive behind Grandfather’s unexpected altruism.

And, oddly enough, Chance Dawson was being given the burned out Blue Bottle Saloon and money to renovate it.

Plump carrots indeed. No wonder the men had agreed to take part in this backward marriage lottery. Not only were they being given fresh starts, but they would come into the community as men of consequence.

She glanced up to see Adam leading his horse to the shade of a nearby tree. At least he’d quit watching her with that unnerving stare.

He stretched and corded muscles strained against the confines of his shirt, muscles he’d no doubt acquired while in prison. A powerful reminder that this was not the same man she’d known all those years ago. This man was both powerful and dangerous.

Abruptly, Reggie turned her focus back to the contract. She had no reason to fear Adam—Grandfather would never have sent him here if he hadn’t trusted him completely.

Quickly finding her place, Reggie skimmed over the next few paragraphs. What it all boiled down to was that, in exchange for her grandfather’s generosity, the trio agreed to “court” her, to truthfully answer any questions about their past and their aspirations, and ultimately, each of them agreed to abide by her final selection without hesitation.

Reggie paused and reread that part. Now here was something she could use. She was no prize catch to start with. The fact that her grandfather had offered such extravagant bribes showed he thought so, too.

Best not to dwell on the sting of that right now.

Instead, she explored how she might take advantage of the small chink in the contract’s armor. If she could hone in on which of her would-be suitors was least enthusiastic about marrying her, and play up whatever would most intensify his reluctance, she might manage to get out of this yet. She just had to make sure, when she made her choice, the man in question would decide he was better off without the judge’s bribe than hitched to her.

Tricky, but she could pull it off. She had to.

Surely the judge wouldn’t follow through with his threat if she’d done her part? If nothing else, it would serve as a delaying tactic while she planned a countermove.

There was an interesting catch to the agreement—exactly the sort of stipulation her deviously-minded grandfather loved to impose. If the man she picked balked at the idea of marrying her, the deal was off for all of them. The trio were in this together.

If her plan worked, she would squash the dreams of not one but three men.

Reggie refused to feel even a smidgeon of guilt. If they truly wanted to start a new life in Turnabout, they didn’t need her grandfather’s backing to make it. They’d just have to do it with the sweat of their own brows rather than with handouts.

From what she’d seen, a stretch of hard work and diet of humble pie wouldn’t hurt any of them.

If they chose to turn tail and head back to Philadelphia rather than dig in and try to make a go of it on their own, well then, they deserved just what they got.

Reggie read the section that addressed Adam’s duties with returning indignation. She glanced up and caught him watching her, an admit-you’re-beaten expression on his face.

The earlier attraction she’d felt was extinguished as if it never existed. What had Grandfather been thinking to entrust this heart-of-stone man with so much power over her and Jack’s future? If the arrogant Mr. Barr thought he held all the cards, let him. She had no intention of showing her own hand just yet.

Feeling better now that she had a plan, Reggie lowered the contract and faced Grandfather’s henchman.

“Do I need to explain any of the legal terms to you?” he asked.

She shook her head. She’d changed her mind about hiring a lawyer. Given her options, she’d have no choice but to sign anyway. And there was no point risking having this humiliating situation made public. “I believe I understand the terms. Given my choices, I will, of course, sign the document.”

Seeing his satisfied smile, she couldn’t stop herself from adding, “But I must say, it proved interesting reading.”

His eyes narrowed suspiciously. Let him wonder what she had up her sleeve. It would work to her advantage if she could keep him off balance.

He nodded. “There are copies for each of us. Everyone has signed them but you.”

She would sign the contracts, all right. But Adam was sadly mistaken if he thought she would give in without a fight. Her take-no-prisoners campaign was just beginning.

* * *

Adam didn’t like the battle-ready expression Regina wore as she signed the papers. She’d seen something in the contract to raise her spirits, and that didn’t bode well for the judge’s plans. But what had she seen?

He’d have to take a closer look when he had a moment.

She handed the packet to him, holding one copy back for herself. Her fingers brushed against his—not drawing-room-smooth skin but feminine nonetheless.

“I imagine your friends have had enough time to stretch their legs.” She slid her copy into her dress pocket. “Shall I call them back?”

“Call them?” Surely they’d traveled too far for a simple hail?

With a schoolgirl grin, she placed two fingers between her lips and let out a piercing whistle, immediately followed by a second blast.

He winced at the shrill sound. “Are you in the habit of calling your people as if they were dogs?”

In the blink of an eye the schoolgirl transformed into an indignant woman. The heat in her cheeks complimented her dragon’s eyes.

“I do not treat people like animals.” She waved a hand. “We tend to scatter when we’re out here. The whistles are signals we’ve worked out to get each other’s attention.”

She took a deep breath and her expression lost its high emotion. “Mrs. Peavy knows two whistles means she’s wanted back at the cabin, and Mr. Peavy and Jack know they can ignore the call.”

As if to support her words, two answering blasts came from the distance.

“There,” she said, “that’s Mrs. Peavy signaling she heard me.” Dusting her skirt, she flounced down the steps. And promptly tripped on her hem.

Adam reacted on instinct, catching her before she could land at his feet. With his arms around her, their gazes locked. Her eyes widened and she gave a breathy little gasp that shot through him. Suddenly the world shrank around them as if they were figures in a water globe, the very air swirling around them.

He’d almost forgotten what it was like to hold a woman—to feel her softness, to breathe in her subtle fragrance, to watch the rosy flush of emotion bathe her cheeks.

An unexpected urge to tighten his embrace, to protect her, to kiss her, took hold of him. Not that he would do so—that would be madness.

But what would she do if he tried?