“I can’t possibly marry you.”

The hard gaze Blue Sumner leveled on her made her uneasy. “Not good enough, huh?”

It took Allison a moment to register the flash of emotion behind his words. “Good enough has nothing to do with my refusal, Mr. Sumner. We don’t know each other. I can’t marry a man I’m not in love with. And I don’t think you’d be happy marrying a woman you aren’t in love with, either.”

“Love…” The cynical gleam in his gaze chided her.

Allison was taken aback. “You don’t believe in love?”

“Love’s right up there with Santa and the Easter Bunny, Ms. Lancaster. But I’m steady, reliable and hardworking. I’ll be a sober husband, a loving father to my kids and a good provider to a faithful wife.”

What kind of man makes the perfect husband?

A man with a big heart and strong arms—someone tough but tender, powerful yet passionate….

And where can such a man be found?

In our brand-new miniseries:

Marriages made on the ranch…

An Arranged Marriage

Susan Fox

www.millsandboon.co.uk

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

EPILOGUE

CHAPTER ONE

BLUE SUMNER rarely had anything given to him. The death of his mother when he was four years old had cut him off from the simple, exquisitely tender kind of giving that comes from the gentle heart and hands of a good mother. He’d learned quick not to expect anything to magically come his way, not love and certainly not anything more than what it took to keep body and soul together. As the son of a cowboy drifter who had spent more time drunk and out of work than sober and employed, Blue had grown up at the mercy of strangers who either pitied or scorned him.

The drive to amount to something, to work himself to death if need be so he could make a good life and have a home, had got hold of him before he was out of grade school. By the time he’d turned fourteen, he’d been so obsessed to make something of himself that he’d quit school, lied about his age and gone to work full-time on the biggest ranch in the county. Later, he studied for his GED in his spare time, then passed the test for his high school diploma about the time his old classmates were halfway through their freshman year of college.

As a boy who had faced daily ridicule for the poor quality of his clothes and his social ignorance, the loss of high school had been insignificant. His childhood had already been lost, crushed out by the hardscrabble life of a drunk’s son. He’d had to find success at something else, anything that would elevate his bad feelings about himself and give him a reason to leave liquor alone and stay on the right side of the law.

From the time he’d got his first job on that big ranch, he’d worked twelve-hour days, seven days a week. Days off were rare, vacations unheard of, but he’d persisted, saving every dollar he could get his hands on, until he’d at last put together enough money to take out a loan on a place of his own.

Eight years ago, he’d become the proud mortgage holder of a modest ranch. He’d sweated and bled over that piece of ground, living in the small run-down house that still had a room with a dirt floor, while he caught work for wages on some of the larger outfits.

The land itself had been rugged enough to nearly kill him. He’d raised animals that were dangerous on their good days, delivered their offspring, doctored their ailments, treated them like prize pups—and sold them for every nickel he could get. He’d lived lonely and hard, doing without a lot of things others took for granted, chasing the mirage of home and respectability…

Until the day he discovered that every inch of the dirt he’d slaved over just happened to be sitting on top of the richest new oil strike in a four-county area.

It was amazing what a sudden eight-figure net worth did for a man. Amazing and enlightening. Things he could only wish for in the past could now be his in the time it took to toss down a piece of plastic or write out a check. From the moment the news of his good luck had circulated, he’d been accorded a deference that had taken him aback the first few times.

He got invited to all kinds of high-toned get-togethers, about a million salesmen left messages on his new answering machine and every mother with an unmarried daughter made sure he’d been introduced and asked to supper. People who’d always kept a wary distance from him now went out of their way to speak to him or do business with him.

And though he could now buy anything he wanted and could do whatever he pleased, it shocked him a little to suddenly discover that the things he wanted most—a home, a family and respectability—had more to do with the quality of the woman he chose to marry than the sweat, blood and sacrifice that had brought him this far.

Because Blue Sumner had rarely had anything given to him, he knew right off that the kind of woman he was looking for could only be his for a price. A quality woman wouldn’t willingly marry a man who’d come from what he’d come from; she’d never be interested in a man who’d grown up rough-mannered and hard. And because she wouldn’t, Blue didn’t intend to give her a choice.

Allison Lancaster drove her car to the mansion on the Sumner ranch, but stopped a distance down the driveway. Several vans and trucks, which she assumed belonged to various building contractors and their workers, took up much of the driveway space nearest the house. Leery of blocking the driveway, she angled her car to the side of the gravel and switched off the engine. She reached to the seat beside her for her handbag, then paused to stare at the huge house.

She’d heard Blue Sumner was building one of the finest homes around, and though it was still weeks from completion, she could see that it was just as impressive as the gossips had said.

The huge two-and-a-half story house was built in a Victorian style with a deep, roof-shaded veranda around the entire main floor. The house fairly shouted wealth and good taste, but Allison couldn’t reconcile the sight of the house with her image of the rugged, elemental man who’d ordered it built.

For what had to be the hundredth time that morning, she mentally reviewed the handful of times her path had crossed Blue Sumner’s. She’d never been able to quite forget the tall, hard-looking man who nodded respectfully to her each time they met on the street. She’d never understood the reason for the wild flutter in her middle the time his fiery blue eyes had blazed down at her from beneath his hat brim as he’d handed her a donation for a school fund-raiser.

And the time she’d been stranded on a country road by a flat tire. Why she could still remember the smell of sweat and leather and hot gravel, and could still recall the odd little sensations she’d felt as she’d watched him change the tire, defied explanation. But something about the way the ruggedly handsome rancher’s big, work-callused hands had handled the task had riveted her.

Allison was suddenly aware that she was trembling. The shocking message her uncle Charles had given her that morning had upset her. And since the message had been from Blue Sumner, this foolish review of disturbing memories didn’t help.

She tightened her grip on her handbag and opened the door to get out of the car. The sounds of hammers and electric hand tools filled the country air. The newly built ranch buildings and corrals she could see a distance away seemed just as active, with horses, cattle and ranch hands scattered around. At least she wouldn’t be alone with the man.

She tried to settle her nerves as she walked with determined poise toward the huge front doors of the mansion, then groaned with frustration when she realized that a fine sheen of perspiration had broken out across her pale brow. As she walked, she took out a tissue and discreetly blotted her face, appalled that her hands were shaking by the time she slipped the tissue back into the handbag.

Remembering what Blue looked like, recalling her feminine reaction to his macho intensity had undermined her somehow. And now that she was on the verge of speaking to him face-to-face, the memory of his outrageous message struck fear in her heart. Surely he hadn’t been serious.

Blue watched Allison’s arrival from one of the unfinished guest rooms on the second floor of his new house. The woman was the very soul of femininity. From the shiny crown of her shoulder-length blond hair to the toes of her high heels, Allison Lancaster was petite, refined and as elegant as royalty.

The white linen dress she was wearing with the matching handbag and shoes probably cost more than the profit he’d made in any year of his life prior to striking oil. He couldn’t imagine what her gold earrings, necklace or watch cost. All he knew was that now he could buy her hundreds of necklaces and watches and matching outfits, and never feel the slightest loss.

The prideful thought sent a breath of unease through him. Allison Lancaster was quality. She was used to the best. He could buy her the best—hell, he could snap his fingers and lay anything she wanted at her feet.

Anything except a gentleman husband.

The reminder chafed his pride and dimmed some of the pleasure he felt at the sight of her. But he’d learned that a man didn’t have to be a gentleman to get what he wanted in this life. Not if he had money. And not if he was ruthless.

Blue turned away from the window and stalked from the room.

Allison hesitated just outside the open double doors at the front of the huge house, loathe to walk into the place unannounced. Though her uncle had told her that Blue had invited her to meet him there, good manners and caution prevented her from behaving with too much familiarity.

A short, wiry man appeared in the doorway. “You must be Miz Lancaster,” he declared, then motioned her toward the door. “Mr. Sumner’s waitin’ for you inside.”

Allison managed a stiff smile and started forward, her nerves jumping with tension and suspense. Once inside the huge entry hall, the man shouted a loud, “Noon break, boys, let’s clear out,” that startled her.

In a surprisingly brief time, workers came from every direction and swiftly exited the house. “Mr. Sumner’ll be along directly, miss,” the man told her before he, too, ducked out the front door.

Allison looked toward the windows and saw that the workers were all moving in the direction of the ranch buildings she’d seen earlier. The idea that they might be going all the way to the new cookhouse for lunch increased her nervousness. Suddenly the big house seemed quite isolated from the rest of the ranch headquarters. Uneasy with the notion of being alone with Blue, Allison glanced nervously toward the open doors.

The deep, rough drawl that echoed in the large, empty rooms gave her no time to make a graceful exit.

“I’m obliged to you for comin’ out.”

Allison jumped at the sound of the man’s voice and couldn’t help that she whirled to face him.

Blue Sumner’s hard gaze seemed to swallow her whole as he came toward her. She suddenly had the impression that he saw everything about her, including the light shiver that raised tiny goose bumps on her arms.

At well over six foot, Blue was a big man—lean, powerfully built, with overlong black hair that dragged on his collar and a harsh, weather-tanned face that proclaimed him a man equal to the elements. The deep blue of his eyes beneath his hat brim met hers with blunt force, the hard sparkle in their depths no-nonsense and faintly dangerous. With his black Stetson, chambray shirt, worn Levi’s and boots, all it would take was a six-gun strapped to his lean hips to make him look like an old-time gunslinger/outlaw.

Another shiver, this one deep down, sent a virtual earthquake of awareness through her as he came to a halt less than an arm’s length away. Blue Sumner was more blatantly male than any man she’d ever come in contact with, and suddenly everything female in her reacted with a shocking mixture of attraction and feminine fear.

She was still staring, a bit dazed, when one corner of his hard mouth turned up in a curve that was un-amused. Just that quickly, she realized how rudely she was behaving and forced a faint smile while she made an effort to recover.

“I was…surprised at the invitation to meet you here, Mr. Sumner,” she began with painful formality.

He stared at her with a piercing, see-it-all intensity that made her want to squirm. “The invitation surprised you,” he stated, his voice low and a bit rough. “What about the marriage proposal?”

“The proposal…troubled me,” she admitted unsteadily. “I thought we might clear things up if I came out to have a word with you.”

She really did mean to go about this as kindly as possible. Uncle Charles believed that having Blue Sumner’s money in his bank was crucial to the bank’s survival, so she didn’t dare offend the man. And, no matter how tough and hard and macho he seemed, she had no wish to insult his pride or hurt his feelings. She could not, however, marry a stranger or a man she didn’t love, no matter how rich he was.

When Blue continued to stare at her, his gaze moving over her face as if he were examining her every feature in minute detail, Allison felt her breath go thin. But when that gaze lowered to make a leisurely chin to toe tour that lingered almost indecently on every curve, her heart nearly stopped.

In the next second, hot color flooded her face. That was the same second Blue’s assessing gaze lifted to meet hers.

“Then you don’t want to marry me.” The statement was delivered in a surprisingly quiet voice. A quiet voice quite at odds with the tension she sensed about him suddenly.

Instinct warned her to be careful. She didn’t know the man and didn’t know anyone who did. Blue Sumner had not only never been a part of her aunt and uncle’s social circle, but he didn’t seem to have socialized with anyone in town. She’d heard gossip about him, his newfound wealth and what he was doing with his money, but she knew nothing personal about the man, aside from the fact that he was now the most sought-after bachelor in the area.

Allison made herself give a faint smile. “I don’t know you, Mr. Sumner.”

The tension in him seemed to ease at her soft reply. His gravelly, “There’s a remedy for that,” and his step toward her made her stiffen, though she managed to stand her ground.

Blue’s eyes narrowed fractionally on her face as if he’d sensed how close she was to bolting. He reached for her bent elbow so smoothly and suddenly that she didn’t have time to evade his touch.

The feel of his callus-rough fingers closing so firmly on her arm sent a shower of wild tingles over her skin. Reflexively Allison pulled back, but Blue’s gentle grip kept her close. The smallest tug brought her that next step nearer, and Allison couldn’t help that her free hand came up and landed on his shirtfront.

The blue cotton was hot to the touch, heated by the warm flesh of the man who wore it. Beneath her fingers, Blue’s heart thudded at a steady pace while hers raced out of control. And now that she was staring up into his rugged, handsome face, she felt her knees weaken and begin to tremble.

Blue didn’t miss a flicker of Allison’s changeable facial expressions. Surprise, wariness, attraction, fear—not exactly the acceptance and desire he wanted to see when she looked at him. But that little hand pressed against his chest directly over his heart felt like the business end of a branding iron. Though she didn’t mean it at all, somehow she was setting a mark on him.

“I’d like to show you the house,” he said gruffly, easing back so her hand would fall away. He didn’t release his gentle hold on her elbow, however, until they started out of the entry hall to begin their tour.

Allison was relieved when Blue’s firm grip went slack and she was able to casually move her arm away. Normally, courtesy would have made her submit to this tour of his home. But courtesy had nothing to do with giving herself this time to recover her wits.

She could still feel the warm imprint of his fingers on her skin, was still trembling with the excitement his touch had set off. Finding her hand pressed to his chest—a gesture that seemed quite intimate—had shaken her. Even the occasional meeting of their gazes as they walked through the huge home sent little bolts of sexual awareness through her.

Desperate to distract herself, Allison looked around, making herself focus on each room and ask appropriate questions. She didn’t have to force herself to admire the big house. The main floor boasted the large entry hall with an open staircase to the second floor, a living room, dining room, den, small parlor, family room, a vast kitchen and a double suite of rooms for a live-in cook and housekeeper.

The second floor featured a master suite with an old-fashioned nursery connected and a walk-in closet easily half as large as the master bedroom. There were six other bedrooms and another small suite of rooms near the back stairs for a butler.

Allison couldn’t help her curiosity. “A butler?”

Blue’s gaze met hers, then ricocheted away. “Was invited to a house party in Dallas where they had a butler. I admired the order of the house he kept.”

They ended in the spacious kitchen downstairs. “The decorator’s planned out for curt—er, window treatments and carpets,” Blue told her as he leaned back against a counter, his arms crossed over his chest, “but you can meet with her tomorrow to see if you approve.”

He ignored her startled look and went on. “You can pick the furniture, just so our bed or anything I have to use isn’t fussy or womanish. Or white, since I’m still a rancher and always will be.”

Allison stared in mild shock as he casually laid out his plan for her to meet with his decorator and furnish his home. She’d been hoping that sometime during the tour he’d come to his senses and realize what folly it was for either of them to take his marriage proposal seriously.

Instead, submitting to the tour seemed to have signaled to him some measure of her consent. Allison shook her head. “Mr. Sumner—please understand. As flattering as your proposal is, I can’t possibly marry you.”

The hard gaze he leveled on her made her uneasy. “Not good enough, huh?”

It took her a moment to recover from the blunt question. And a moment more to register the flash of emotion behind the words.

“Good enough has nothing to do with my refusal, Mr. Sumner. We don’t know each other,” she emphasized with gentle candor.

“And if we knew each other?”

The question unsettled her and Allison fought to suppress her sudden, secret reaction to the idea as she tried to give him a calm answer.

“We could know each other well and still not have the kind of love a marriage requires. I can’t marry a man I’m not in love with. And I don’t think you’d truly be happy marrying a woman you aren’t in love with, either.”

“Love…” The cynical gleam in his gaze chided her. “Love’s nothing more than a rush of lust and hormones that fools mistake for sentiment. Soon as the lust is satisfied, the hormones settle. That’s when those same fools think they’ve fallen out of love.” His faint emphasis mocked the word.

Allison was taken aback. “You don’t believe in love?”

The level look he gave her somehow made her sad. “Love’s right up there with Santa and the Easter Bunny, Miz Lancaster. Kid myths, but myths all the same,” he said, then went on somberly. “I wasn’t born to wealth and I’m not college educated, but I’m steady, reliable and hardworking. I’ll be a faithful, sober husband, a good father to my kids and a good provider to a faithful wife.”

Allison glanced away, caught off guard by the intensity of his declaration, but struck by the absolute sincerity of it. Love was a myth to him, yet the things he wanted couldn’t be achieved without it.

Thoughts of her aunt Petula’s loveless marriage to Charles filled her mind. Uncle Charles had never been faithful to Aunt Pet and had never provided anything for Pet that hadn’t originally come from her large inheritance. Because Charles had never loved her aunt, he’d never been interested in having children with her. Because he’d never loved her, their home was anything but warm and loving.

Allison’s memories of her own parents, killed when she was only nine, were of two people completely in love who doted on each other and on the child their love had created. Allison hungered for that kind of love, that kind of marriage.

The alternative, represented by Charles and Petula’s coldly formal relationship, was unacceptable. No matter how wonderful Blue’s pledge sounded now, how long would it take for the loveless union he wanted to go wrong?

Allison made herself look directly at Blue as she spoke. “Those are honorable goals, Mr. Sumner. I think you must be quite a good man to have them.” She hesitated, clenching her handbag in front of her to keep her hands from fluttering as wildly as her insides were fluttering. “But I can’t marry a man who doesn’t value love.”

Blue didn’t blink, didn’t seem to even take a breath before he drawled, “Then your answer is no.”

Allison somehow maintained eye contact with the burning probe of his gaze. “My answer is no.”

Blue glanced down briefly, his eyes hidden by the brim of the Stetson he’d worn during their tour of the house. At just the moment Allison felt a strange tug of sympathy, the black hat brim lifted to reveal the determination in his gaze.

His low, “Then I’ll have to find a way to change your mind,” came out in a raspy drawl that sent a flood of heat through her. The way he was looking at her now—as if he were about to grab her up and carry her off to a cave somewhere—made his declaration as much a threat as a promise.

A confusing mix of dismay and excitement sent color into her cheeks and a flush over her skin. Allison couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. The peculiar attraction she’d felt toward Blue in the past suddenly escalated to something breathlessly sensual and compelling. The notion that he meant to change her mind about marrying him was dizzying.

But the fact that he might somehow be successful terrified her. Surely she could never be seduced into marrying a stranger who didn’t believe in love. But as she stood there frozen, unable to look away from Blue Sumner’s ruggedly handsome face, she realized she might be in danger of doing just that.

Somehow, she regained her composure. Her stiff, “Good afternoon, Mr. Sumner,” and her abrupt turn and stilted exit from the huge kitchen did nothing to break the sensual pull between them. Though she was aware that Blue’s booted stride echoed hers down the long hall to the entry and the front door, she managed to maintain a dignified pace.

She didn’t breathe normally until she was safely out the door and was halfway down the graveled driveway to where she’d left her car.

CHAPTER TWO

ALLISON’S nerves were still jittery by the time she returned to town. To her surprise, Uncle Charles had come home early from the bank, and he was waiting in the formal living room with Aunt Petula when she came in.

“Hello, dear,” Aunt Pet called as Allison walked into the tastefully appointed room. Petula was sitting on one of the three white sofas that were grouped around the low crystal coffee table. Charles stood near the liquor cabinet, his face expectant. A bottle of champagne rested in a silver bucket of shaped ice on a sofa table.

Allison’s soft, “Hello all,” was cautious as she stopped at the sofa and rested a hand on its back. She saw at a glance that Aunt Pet’s expression was tense. Charles was almost never home in the middle of a banking day. The bucket of champagne and the warm look Charles was giving her combined to send a tiny arrow of alarm through her.

Charles didn’t hesitate. “We trust you and Mr. Sumner have set the date.”

Allison stared a moment as a feeling of unreality slipped over her. Charles was clearly pleased and excited. A swift glance at Aunt Pet caught Pet’s nervous smile. All at once she realized that both of them must have expected her to accept Blue Sumner’s astonishing marriage proposal.

Though Charles had already made it clear, in spite of her objections, that he was strongly in favor of her accepting Blue’s proposal, until that moment she hadn’t realized how eager he was for a marriage—and how certain he was that she’d accept. Which was amazing because she and Blue Sumner were complete strangers with almost nothing in common!

She answered hesitantly, “Well…no, Uncle.”

“But you went out and spoke to him, saw the house,” Charles prompted cheerily. “I’m certain he’ll allow you to decorate it as you like. Most men are inept at that sort of thing,” he went on, oblivious to Allison’s growing look of alarm. “Sumner might have a lot of rough edges, but he’s filthy rich now, and I doubt there’s anything material he would deny you, as long as you’re willing to make him a proper wife.”

Allison quickly said, “I’ve rejected Mr. Sumner’s proposal, Uncle.”

Charles hesitated in the process of opening the champagne bottle to glance over at her, his wide smile faltering. “What was that?”

The silence stretched. Suddenly she was hesitant to repeat the words. Her mouth went dry. “I’ve rejected Mr. Sumner’s proposal. I was as diplomatic as possible,” she assured him when she saw the pleasantness drain from his face. “I’m certain he sees, as do I, that it would be better for him to wait and marry someone he’s in love with.”

Charles eased the bottle back down into the ice. His face flushed and his mouth flattened to a harsh line. He glared over at Petula, who was staring down at her clasped hands.

“I thought I made it clear to both of you—” his angry glance included Allison “—how important this marriage is. I’d hoped to avoid reminding either of you of the reason Chaney Bank is on the verge of insolvency, but I can see now that I should have been more direct.”

A sick feeling swept Allison. The bank was struggling and Charles blamed her. Her college friend, John Blake, had worked at the bank until three weeks ago. Because he’d been so bright and capable, Charles had rapidly advanced him. Later, when an internal audit showed a huge amount of money missing from the accounts, Charles had suspected John right away.

He claimed that her reluctance to believe John capable of embezzlement had made him look elsewhere for a culprit, which resulted in the loss of an even greater sum. Days later, John Blake abruptly quit his job and left town. It was shortly after that when Charles realized not only the extent of the embezzlement, but that her friend was undoubtedly the thief.

“I never would have hired John Blake were it not for my affection for you, Allison, and my regard for your wishes,” he said, his cultured voice arrogantly smooth, though he was clearly very angry. “Now, I think you should feel obligated to honor mine.”

Allison felt as if a subtle trap were closing on her. She rallied to evade it. “Have you notified the authorities?” She still couldn’t believe that John was a thief, and Charles’s certainty in the matter—as well as his method of dealing with the theft—continued to distress her.

“I explained why I wanted to handle the situation discreetly,” he snapped. “I can’t help that the private investigators I’ve hired haven’t been able to turn up anything.”

“Surely the accounts were federally insured against the loss,” she reasoned. “Besides, federal authorities have more resources—”

“That may be,” he said, cutting in irritably, his voice rising, “but the bank can hardly afford to have it become common knowledge that one of our own employees embezzled enough money to leave the bank insolvent.”

Charles’s face was mottled and he was glaring almost hatefully at her. Allison was shocked.

“Blue Sumner can give this bank the kind of business it needs to stay on its feet,” he declared. “You, my dear, are the woman he has chosen to marry. Once he’s a member of the family, I’m certain he’ll be more open to not only transferring his accounts to us, but he’ll naturally turn to me to be his financial advisor.”

Allison saw a small chance to avoid her part in Charles’s plan and dared to ask, “Has he guaranteed that he will transfer his accounts and have you advise him?” On one hand, it would be foolish for Charles to marry her off to a rich stranger in order to attract his business, with no guarantee that he’d do so. On another, marrying her off to Blue Sumner to get his business and have access to his money was tantamount to selling her.

Charles pointed at her as if he were scolding a naughty child. “You do your part and accept his proposal. Leave the business end of it to me.”

Allison felt dizzy. Charles’s scheme to save the bank was unbelievable. Unbelievable and medieval and ridiculous.

Charles’s harsh, “You talk to her, Petula,” tightened the knot of dread in her middle. “Maybe you can make her see what an ingrate she’s become. I’m going back to the bank.”

Neither Allison nor Petula spoke as Charles stalked through the house and slammed out the front door. Allison released a shaky breath and looked over at her Aunt Petula.

Petula Lancaster Wallace was still a beautiful woman. Though well into her fifties, her hair was still blond, her fair skin still taut and the only wrinkles she had of note were faint ones at the corners of her eyes and around her lovely mouth.

But Aunt Petula seemed to have aged a good ten years during Charles’s brief tirade.

Allison stepped forward and came around the edge of the sofa to sit down opposite Petula, the crystal table between them. The silence in the wake of Charles’s temper was ominous. Petula’s delicate fingers were shaking and she wouldn’t meet Allison’s gaze.

Allison felt her heart swelling. Petula had taken her in after her parents had been killed. No one else in their far-flung family had seemed to want her, but Aunt Pet had.

Petula’s motivation to take her in had far surpassed her sense of duty to raise her younger brother’s only child. Petula had genuinely loved her and wanted her, and somehow she’d managed to soften the pain of the incredible loss Allison had suffered and brighten the life of a grief-stricken child.

Not surprisingly, Allison dearly loved her aunt, and Petula’s happiness and well-being were even more important to her than her own.

And because it was suddenly all coming home to Allison that the bank was much worse off than she’d thought and that Aunt Pet seemed even more upset in her own way than Charles had been, Allison couldn’t help feeling a little desperate. Finally she spoke.

“Is the bank truly so bad off that I might need to…” Her voice drifted off. Somehow she’d not been able to say the words “marry Mr. Sumner.” “Forgive me, Auntie, but I’m…stunned.” Her soft words seemed to increase Pet’s distress.

Petula’s blue gaze lifted to hers and welled tragically. Before she could speak, Allison quickly stood and rounded the table to sit with her aunt and take her small, beringed fingers in hers.

“Aunt Pet?”

Petula squeezed her eyes shut and a tear slipped down her pale cheek. Her choked, “I’m afraid the bank is quite bad off,” was the prelude to more tears.

Stricken by her aunt’s distress, Allison hugged Petula and felt tears sting her own eyes. Aunt Pet rarely cried. She was always pleasant and mild-mannered, and considered strong emotional displays a breach of etiquette.

Pet returned her hug almost fiercely. When she managed to get control of herself, she leaned back to lift a trembling hand to Allison’s cheek.

“Oh, my sweet girl, the last thing I want is for you to marry some Neanderthal, whose only claim to respectability is that he’s savvy enough to use his new fortune to buy it.” Her fragile features stiffened and her pale cheeks flushed with fresh spirit. “I don’t care if the bank closes and Charles loses everything. There must be some other solution than to condemn you to a loveless marriage to a cowboy.”

Secretly Allison was heartsick. In spite of Pet’s declaration, she was suddenly terrified that marriage to Blue Sumner would turn out to be the only solution to the bank’s problems. Even worse, she was afraid that marrying Blue Sumner would turn out to be no solution at all.

Two days later, Allison found herself back at the Sumner Ranch in the late afternoon. Her aunt was now bedridden with nerves. Dr. Evans had been out to see her, but other than assuring them that Pet would be all right and that she’d probably be up and around soon, there’d been no substantial change in her condition.

The situation at the bank was little better. Charles hadn’t missed an opportunity to pressure her, and her own secret feelings of guilt about John Blake had worn her down. Finally she agreed to go to the Sumner Ranch to speak again with Blue.

Charles had assured her that he’d already phoned Blue and had, he claimed, smoothed things over. Allison couldn’t imagine that it had been that simple. If Blue had any pride at all, giving a woman a second opportunity to turn down his marriage proposal would be anathema to him.

Allison’s own pride was choking her. It was bad enough that she was virtually being sold. It was even worse to have to humble herself and drive out to the ranch to grovel before a man who might delight in turning the tables and rejecting her.

Two days ago, she would have rejoiced at the notion that Blue would lose interest in marrying her. But after two days of Aunt Pet’s depression and distress, Allison realized she was willing to do anything to help her aunt recover.

For all Pet’s talk of wanting to spare her an arranged marriage, Allison was beginning to believe it was impossible to save the bank any other way. Pet had been born to wealth and had lived an upper-class lifestyle. Allison knew well the terror of the rich when it came to thoughts of losing their fortune.

And Pet’s fear of public scandal was almost pathological. If the bank failed, Charles would naturally be considered responsible. His judgment would be suspect because of his failure to notify the proper authorities in a timely manner, and therefore his financial reputation would be sullied. Allison had no idea how it would all impact their personal finances, but the chance that it might prove disastrous was enough to make her take this desperate step.

Aunt Pet had loved her and given her a good home with all the financial advantages a child could possibly have. Allison would never be able to repay her Aunt’s generosity but, as Charles had so brutally pointed out, marrying Blue was her one grand opportunity to do so.

And so she walked up the sidewalk to the veranda that surrounded the new mansion. Today was Sunday, so there were no workers around. Though she was naturally apprehensive about being alone with Blue, in many ways it was a blessing. No one would be around to witness the scene if he’d changed his mind about giving her another chance.

And, if she was truly going to marry him, she’d be alone with him often. She might as well begin to adjust to him now, however much the notion panicked her.

The large double doors were closed, their oval etched glass panels providing a framed view of the huge empty entry hall beyond. Allison walked up to the door, then caught sight of the doorbell on the right and put out a hand to press the button. She listened nervously to the chimes as they sounded a series of deep-pitched tones.

Blue had watched Allison approach the house from the shelf-lined front room of the mansion, which would eventually be the den. He’d glimpsed the apprehension on her lovely face when she’d stepped out of her car. He’d seen the resolute squaring of her narrow shoulders as she’d started up the walk, then the determined concealment of her feelings when she’d blanked her expression.

His pride hadn’t suffered at all when she’d refused to marry him the other day, but it was taking a beating now. Charles Wallace’s spineless groveling on the phone had turned his stomach, but the sense he had that Wallace had bullied Ms. Allison into changing her mind shamed him a little.

Though Blue had never wanted her to have any real choice about marrying him, the actual follow-through of his plan to get her made him feel as if he’d abused her somehow. Demeaned wasn’t a word in his normal vocabulary, but he felt like maybe he’d managed to demean them both. Particularly since she’d seemed to set a lot of store by love, an emotion that by habit and necessity, he’d learned to ignore.

But he hadn’t worked his way up from the poverty and homelessness of his childhood by being soft or by veering from the goals he’d set for himself. Marrying Allison Lancaster was just the next goal on his list. If he thought of her in those terms, what he had to do to get her troubled him less.

He turned away as she put out a hand to ring the doorbell. He strode from the den into the entry hall and then to the front door. The big chimes were echoing away when he opened it.

Allison’s soft, “May I come in?” was a bit breathless. Blue wasn’t wearing his black Stetson, but he seemed a giant somehow. His handsome face was stern, though she detected a faint wariness in the blue of his eyes.

He didn’t answer verbally, but opened the big door to allow her to enter. She took four or five steps across the marble floor before she came to an uncertain halt and turned toward him.

He’d closed the door and stood staring over at her. Nothing in his expression gave her a clue to his thoughts until he said, “I put an old desk and a couple of chairs in the front room there—the den.” The gesture he made signaled her to precede him. Allison walked toward the open door and stepped through. Blue entered behind her and pushed the door not quite shut.

“The furniture is old and ugly, but it’ll do until the house is done and I can get to Dallas to buy something better.”

His offhand remark about the old desk and the paint-spattered chairs seemed a sensible one to make, but something in his voice suggested he was somehow ashamed of it. A swift glance at his hard expression made her think she’d imagined the impression.

He reached for the folded white sheet that rested on a corner of the desk. He picked up the sheet and gave it a flick that unfolded it before he draped it over the better of the two mismatched chairs. He automatically repositioned the other chair opposite hers to straddle it and sit down before he realized she hadn’t moved.

As if he were a schoolboy who realized he’d forgotten his manners, Blue abruptly stood up and waved a hand toward the sheeted chair. “Go ahead and sit down, Miz Allison. The sheet’s new. Your dress will be fine.”

Allison moved toward the chair and sat down stiffly, though her face was hot. She hadn’t hesitated because she was afraid of getting her dress dirty. “I don’t worry about my clothing as much as you might imagine, Mr. Sumner. I was waiting for you to invite me to sit.”

Blue slowly eased back down and rested his muscular forearms across the chair back. He gave her a level look and said in a rough voice, “I reckon I don’t need to tell you that I’m full of bad manners. Might be a while before I’m ready for polite society.”

Allison stared at him, caught off guard by his directness. She felt herself soften toward him and found herself saying, “Good manners are really nothing more than making the other person feel comfortable.”

“Then my manners must be especially bad,” he said, his voice going lower and more raspy, “because you don’t look too comfortable.”

Allison glanced down at her clasped hands, a bit amazed to feel that her palms were damp. “It’s the situation that makes me uncomfortable, Mr. Sum—”

“Blue.”

The curt correction made her lift her eyes and look at him.

“The way you say Mr. Sumner makes me feel like I’m half a state away from you.”

Allison’s laced fingers flexed and her hands were gripping each other almost painfully. Wanting to ignore his remark about the distance she almost wished they had, she changed the subject. “I’ve come to ask you a few questions. Rather delicate ones.”

Blue looked at her somberly. “Good. I don’t want to worry about a question bein’ delicate or not. We’ve got things to talk about and I’d rather you say what you mean.”

Allison nodded, then got to the point. “My uncle seems to believe he’s trading a niece for a multimillion-dollar bank account. He believes that once you’re in the family, you’ll allow him to advise you on financial matters.”

Blue watched her calmly. “What I decide to do about your uncle and his bank is separate from you.”

Allison tried to read his unsmiling expression. He’d worded his reply oddly and she wasn’t certain how to take it. His face gave nothing away that would clarify his remark. Allison continued.

“Arranged marriages are usually about money. I feel as if—” she managed to get a breath “—as if I’m being bought.”

“I need a wife,” he said with that same unruffled calm. “I’m particular about the woman I want.”

“But there are lots of women in Texas, Mr.—Blue. There must be hundreds of women around, even for a man who’s particular about the woman he wants.”

His unsmiling expression cracked a bit and one corner of his mouth quirked downward. “I reckon by now just about every available female in Texas has thrown herself into my path. Money seems to make ’em bold.”

“So you think they only want you for your money? How are they different from…me?”

“Because you’re the one I want.” The low drawl wrapped around her. She sensed the intensity behind the burning look he was giving her and felt her heart flutter as his masculinity overwhelmed her.

In that moment she glimpsed his utter determination to marry her, by whatever means. He wasn’t touching her, he didn’t even try, but she felt his possession as surely as if he’d swept her into his arms.

Some bit of self-preservation—and selfishness—prompted her to tell him, “This isn’t the marriage I’d hoped to have.”

“It’s the one I want.”

The simple statement should have made her angry. After all, it was a blunt reminder of their inequality—of the fact that they weren’t equals, that he had all the money and all the choices. And that she had none.

But Allison sensed another meaning behind the words. A man from Blue’s background, who didn’t believe in love, might not want to get a wife any other way. And, she realized, a man with social limitations might not know how.

The perception kept her from taking offense.

“Do you have a date in mind for the wedding?”

The date he named was only a bit more than a month away. Allison couldn’t help the panic she felt.

“Th-then you prefer we see a justice of the peace?”

Blue shook his head. “I want it big, in your church, with your preacher, and grand enough that it makes the big city papers. If your uncle can’t spring for everything, send the bills to me.”

Allison couldn’t conceal her reluctance to have the huge, very public wedding he wanted. “A wedding like that could cost a lot of money.”

“How much?” His bluntness continued to take her aback.

“Why, a wedding such as the one you describe could cost upwards of twenty thousand dollars.”

“I’m good for it.”

She glanced away, not able to withstand the directness of his gaze. Or the embarrassment she felt at his offer to pay for an expensive wedding. She determined then that if it took every penny of her trust fund, she’d pay for her own wedding.

“That won’t be necessary, Mr. S—”

“Blue.” The soft drawl carried a faint demand that brought her gaze back to his. “A wife oughtta call her husband by his first name.”

“Then you really want to go through with this.” It was a statement she made so she couldn’t possibly mistake things—or keep a reserve of hope.

That seemed to be the signal for him to stand. He straightened to his full height and swung his chair out of the way. With his blue gaze fixed purposely on hers, he stepped nearer and reached for her hand to pull her to her feet.

Flustered and excited by the strong, yet gentle grip of his callused fingers around hers, she couldn’t break contact with the fiery gleam in his gaze.

“Just so there’s no mistake about what I want. And to help you remember there’s no point in calling me Mr. Sumner…”

He caught her against him, lifting her slightly off the floor as his lips descended to hers. The kiss was only marginally gentle. Shock jolted her, and the involuntary gasp of air she took gave him the sudden access he needed to deepen the kiss. The blatant carnality of his mouth stole her breath and made her head spin.

The feel of his hard body was a new shock, and though she wasn’t vastly experienced with men, even she knew he was aroused. His heat enveloped her while the forceful, yet expert invasion of her mouth turned her insides to a hot pulsing mass.

When he finally broke off the kiss, she was incapable of standing. She was only dazedly aware that she was clinging to him, and that even when his arms loosened around her, she was plastered against him.

“I reckon sex won’t be something we have to put off till we know each other better,” he remarked, his voice a husky rasp.

His words penetrated the sensual haze that fogged her brain, and she made a weak effort to shake her head. My God, she hardly knew the man!

As if he’d sensed her objection, his lips touched hers again. This time, his kiss was so tender, so wickedly persuasive, that she was incapable of thought. Years of well-bred reserve fell away, and she slid the manicured fingers of one hand into his thick dark hair and made a fist to hang on.

She’d been kissed before. She’d found kissing pleasant enough, but nothing in her experience could have prepared her for either of Blue’s kisses—the carnal devouring one, or this achingly sensual one that seemed to reach deep inside her and caress her very essence.

An emotion spiraled gently in her chest, swelling her heart. Before she could quite identify it, his lips eased away.

Her lashes fluttered up and she dizzily met the raging fire in his eyes.

“Say my name.”

The demand was almost harsh, but Allison didn’t feel threatened. Her soft, “Blue,” was breathless with the sensuality that gripped her. She realized with some surprise that she’d moved her hand and that she was touching his lean cheek, stroking it.

Her even softer, “Blue,” repeated the name that she suddenly realized would forever be attached to the strange new emotion she felt.

When Blue reached up to gently capture her fingers and pull them away from his cheek, she felt oddly disappointed. He slowly released her and eased her away from him.

The loss of his body heat seemed to calm the turbulent sensuality between them. But only slightly. Even when they were no longer touching, something a lot like raw electricity danced and snapped between them.

“I reckon you’ll want to get yourself back to town and start makin’ plans,” he said gruffly. “I’ll call on you tomorrow afternoon to see how you’re comin’ along.”

Allison was still too in thrall to speak. She felt an unexpected nick of pain when she sensed Blue withdraw emotionally. Suddenly aloof, he escorted her to the door, then outside and down the walk to her car. He opened the door for her, then shut it solidly once she was behind the wheel.

She drove all the way to the highway before she realized she was shaking violently.

CHAPTER THREE

THE month before the wedding passed in a frantic blur. Aunt Pet regained her good health and they both waded into wedding preparations like a pair of maniacs.

To her surprise, Allison rarely saw Blue, though she spoke to him daily on the phone to keep him apprised of wedding preparations. He sent his decorator to her aunt’s house and even Aunt Pet was pleased by the plans he and the decorator had worked out, subject to Allison’s approval.

At Aunt Pet’s insistence, she and Allison spent an afternoon looking through the ranch mansion to give them both a better idea of the furnishings that would have to be bought. Though Aunt Pet was reserved and cautious with Blue and he was aloof with both of them, Aunt Pet came away from the ranch deeply impressed by the house he’d built.

Pet was sparing in her personal remarks to Allison about her future husband, but she did allow that Blue Sumner was ruggedly handsome and had a macho presence that could be considered exciting.

No one mentioned that this was an arranged marriage between two strangers, and sometimes Allison got so caught up in preparations that she almost forgot. Until she spoke to Blue on the phone or saw him face-to-face. He grew more remote by the day. It was as if the kisses they’d shared that Sunday afternoon had never happened. He seemed even more a stranger to her, and at times, she had to struggle to keep her downcast spirits about the marriage to herself.

While she and Pet were busy with the wedding details, Blue’s house was finished and he set about ordering the furniture Allison had chosen. He also hired a butler, a cook and a housekeeper.

By the night of the rehearsal dinner, they remained little more than acquaintances. By mutual agreement, they’d limited their wedding party to a maid of honor and a best man, who turned out to be one of the wealthiest ranchers in the area.

Blue had once worked as a foreman for Ty Cameron, but their friendship seemed to have withstood Blue’s distance and years away from the Cameron Ranch.

Charles was impressed by the connection between the two and, to Allison’s horror, had immediately begun to speculate about attracting Ty to some of the mortgage investments he had in mind for Blue. His frequent comments about saving the bank continued to trouble her, as did his ongoing refusal to report the embezzlement.

Blue drove her directly home after the dinner, but they were more stilted than ever with each other. Their conversation was so sparse and infrequent that it was as if they hadn’t spoken to each other at all.

On the night before her wedding, Allison laid in her bed a long time, staring up into the darkness, certain she was about to make the mistake of her life.

The ceremony at Chaney Community Church was the largest ever held in Chaney, and the most perfect.

Allison had been to a lot of weddings. Something seemed to go wrong in every one of them, from a wedding cake that leaned off center, to a flower girl who dropped her basket of rose petals and burst into howls of dismay.

Nothing, however minor, went wrong at their wedding. On the other hand, everything was as wrong as it could possibly be.

Two strangers repeated vows to love, honor and cherish. Two strangers were pronounced man and wife. Two strangers turned fully toward each other, hesitated for the lifting of the veil, then pressed cool, stiff lips together at the preacher’s enthusiastic, “You may now kiss your bride, Mr. Sumner.”

Those same two strangers, perfectly poised and elegant in their wedding finery, smiled and walked down the aisle arm in arm. Later, they posed for wedding photos that the photographer swore were worthy of a high fashion layout.

Afterward, two strangers got into the limousine that took them to the Sumner Ranch for the reception. They officially received their guests, fed each other the traditional bite of wedding cake, then toured the gift room where a mountain of wedding presents had been displayed.

By the time Allison could slip up to the master suite, where Aunt Pet would assist her with her gown, her nerves were shattered. The traveling suit she’d planned to wear to Dallas was laid out neatly on the huge bed, but suddenly, she was reluctant to face the idea of a honeymoon.

She’d not allowed herself to dwell on thoughts of what would come after the ceremony, but the sight of that pale pink suit on the bed triggered every worry and misgiving—every fear—that she’d repressed about their wedding night and all the other nights that would follow.

The memory of those two kisses a month of Sundays ago, flooded her mind. A flash of heat burst up from deep inside, and she suddenly felt dizzy.

I reckon sex won’t be something we have to put off till we know each other better, Blue had said.

Allison couldn’t recall that she’d actually voiced an objection, and she couldn’t help the panic she felt.

Surely Blue wouldn’t expect her to consummate their marriage right away. If he’d truly expected to, surely he would have taken time to actually court her these last weeks, or at the very least, he’d have given them time alone to get to know each other.

Allison pressed a shaky hand to her middle, then forced herself to give a little laugh. The stress of putting together the huge wedding on such short notice was beginning to tell on her. She was keyed up and exhausted and this worry about intimacy with Blue was likely nothing more than bridal nerves.

Determined to calm herself, she crossed to the huge dresser mirror to start removing the hairpins that anchored her headpiece. She was facing a bit away from the mirror to reach an elusive pin when the bedroom door opened, then closed.

She called out a relieved, “There you are, Aunt Pet. I can’t seem to locate all the pins—”

She turned her head to peer into the mirror’s reflection of the room, expecting to see her aunt. Instead Blue stood just inside the door.

Slowly his eyes traced every bead and design detail of her gown, lingering hotly on every curve along the way. As almost an afterthought, his gaze at last came up to hers, and he stared intently at her flushed face.

The blatant lust in his gaze seemed to blaze higher. Allison was barely breathing.

“I was…expecting Aunt Pet,” she said.

Blue’s steady look never wavered. “She won’t be coming up now.”

Allison shook her head. “I need her help,” she said as he started toward her. A fluttering cluster of nerves surged to her throat, choking her soft voice to a ragged whisper. “With the buttons.”

Blue was so handsome in the severe black tuxedo that she couldn’t make herself look away. The starched white of his shirt emphasized his tanned, weathered skin tones, which contrasted strikingly with the fiery blue of his eyes. The cut of the tuxedo faithfully followed his broad-shouldered, lean-hipped build, and Allison couldn’t tell if she was excited or terrified by the sight of his breath-stealing physique.

Now that he could look at her as much as he liked, Blue couldn’t keep his eyes off his bride. She was decked out like a fairy princess, all white lace and pearly beads and satin. The stiff white veil she still wore haloed her head and shoulders all the way to the floor, hinting at angel wings.

But it was her beautiful face that set it all off. Framed by curls and wispy gold ringlets, her face was flushed. Her eyes were nearly as vividly blue as his own, but wider, more innocent, kinder—though right now it would have been hard to miss the worry in them. Or the feminine interest. In the end, though, it was her lips that drew him: lush and sweet looking and almost cherry red.

The memory of how soft and crushable they’d felt, even though their wedding kiss had been bloodless and cool, burst in him like a craving. It took everything he had to keep from rushing her, to keep from grabbing her and devouring her as if she were a choice sweet.

Instead he moved slowly toward her, then stopped when his booted toes touched the belled hem of her dress.

His low “I’ll help you with the dress” made the color in her cheeks go higher. He didn’t realize until he felt the stiff netting between his fingers that he’d reached out to catch a pinch of her veil.

Allison could barely move, though her brain was struggling to save her. She couldn’t possibly let Blue help her remove her dress. She wasn’t ready for that kind—for any kind—of intimacy. “A-Aunt Pet wanted—”

“Aunt Pet’s takin’ care of other things,” he drawled as he lightly rolled the delicate netting between his thumb and fingers.

Allison tried again. “I need—”

“I’m your family now, Miz Allis,” he said in a low voice that carried an edge of command. “From here on out, you’re to look to me for the things she’s always done for you.”

She was so shocked by the order that it took her a moment to recover. Blue took advantage of that moment as he released the bit of veil, then reached for the headpiece that was still pinned to her hair.

The feel of his fingers gently searching for hairpins sent a warm flood of pleasure from her head to her toes, scattering her objection to his edict. Gently, one by one, he found every pin, tossing each to the polished top of the dresser. He removed the headpiece and set it aside on the dresser, leaving the sheer veil to cascade off the front of the dark wood like a white waterfall.

He stepped around her and she bit her lip to repress the flurry of shivers that began when he started on the tiny pearl buttons at the back of her gown. One after another, lower and lower he went, steadily releasing the buttons, his warm fingers grazing her bare back as he went. Allison had never imagined that anything so simple could be so arousing, but with every tug of fabric, every gentle brush of his strong, hard fingers, a spark ignited in her. Considering the number of buttons—perhaps fifty or more—by the time he reached the very end, Allison felt a conflagration building.

Just when she thought this was the end, that Blue would leave her to undress in private, he placed his hands on her bare back. The heat of his callused palms scorched her and left her incapable of moving. She caught her breath when they pushed aside her open dress back, then slipped gently beneath the fabric.

The next thing she knew, he’d slid the gown off her shoulders. The neckline fell softly to her waist, exposing the bodice of her slip and the bra she wore beneath. Alarmed at being exposed—he could see her reflection in the dresser mirror—Allison clutched the front of the gown and tried to cover herself.

Blue’s fingers caught the beaded fabric and prevented her from doing so. She felt a soft gust of breath on her bare skin, followed by the shocking feel of his mouth on the back of her neck.

He released the fabric and let his palms trail down to her waist and slip beneath the gown. He pulled her back against him while his lips moved almost hungrily along her neck and to her ear, where he kissed and bit and nibbled until her knees gave way.

For the next several minutes, the only sounds in the room were the sounds of ragged breathing and of satin, beads and lace brushing against fine black cloth. The wedding dress ended up in a poofed circle at their feet. Sometime during those moments, he turned her toward him, and his mouth found hers for a long, hot kiss. Later, his mouth moved off hers, found her throat, then went on an erotic tour that ended torturously short of the nipple his questing fingers had uncovered.

As if he’d meant all along to arouse her to nearly the point of pain—and leave unfulfilled the ache to feel his lips on her breast—Blue eased her slowly away from him.

Allison could barely stand. She was too weak to keep her grip on his sleeves. The erotic haze that had burned away all her reason and all her inhibitions began to slowly lift. Her ability to stand on her own came back in the same proportions and she opened her eyes to look up at Blue.

It soothed her ego to see that his face was a mask of the same arousal she felt. But an iron control that she was too inexperienced to have developed was also there. She could see it in his eyes. She could see it, but she wasn’t certain how she felt about it. Her reaction was equal parts relief and frustrated anger.

How dare he toy with her, bring her to such heights, then switch himself off—switch her off—and leave her with a wild hunger she’d never suspected could exist?

Yet, how grateful she was that he’d stopped! The confusing whirl of frustration and relief and ebbing desire kept her silent, kept her standing long after he turned from her and left the room.

The long limo ride to Dallas was quiet. Blue had withdrawn from her, though they sat together in the center of the wide back seat. They didn’t speak, and the silence weighed on Allison.

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