Bound by Marriage
Nalini Singh

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To Wanda, who makes me a better writer.

And to the Brainstorming Desirables and NZRomance

e-mail groups, who between them, can answer any

research question ever invented!

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Coming Next Month

One

The last person Jess Randall expected to see as she walked out of the arrival gate at Christchurch International Airport, was the man she was about to marry. “Gabriel. What are you doing here?”

“You’ve been living in L.A. for a year and that’s all you have to say?”

Flustered, she leaned forward to drop a quick kiss on his cheek. It felt unfamiliar, awkward. “Sorry, I was just surprised. Aren’t you busy with station work?”

“I wanted to talk to you about something. But first things first.” He bent his head and, without any prelude, kissed her full on the mouth.

Knocked completely off her bearings, she couldn’t do anything but clutch at his shirt in an effort to keep herself upright. Her heart was a staccato drumbeat in her ears, her blood a rush of thunder. And all around her burned a rough male heat that demanded everything she had.

It was the most intimate kiss they’d ever shared, the closest their bodies had ever come. And it made her nerves tighten in sheer panic. Not because she didn’t like it, but because she did.

“Welcome home,” he said, releasing her. The look in those green eyes was unmistakable—Gabriel Dumont was a man more than ready for his wedding night.

Legs not quite steady, she watched him pick up her bags. He led her through to the domestic part of the airport and across the road to the landing field used by smaller planes. The Jubilee, one of Angel Station’s two planes, sat waiting for them.

Fear—of Gabe’s expectations, but mostly of her own inexplicable response to his touch—had such a stranglehold on her that she was barely aware of hopping on board. Over the past year, she’d convinced herself that her marriage would be a calm, steady, business-like affair, never once considering what it might mean to be Gabriel’s wife in truth…to be touched and claimed in ways that obliterated the distance she needed to survive this bargain.

Her heart stuttered as he settled in beside her, taking the pilot’s seat. Taking control. A man who knew what he wanted and exactly how he wanted it, her fiancé was not someone who could ever be ignored.

Though he was tall and undeniably strong, his musculature was lean and powerful, not bulky. When he moved it was like watching a wild stallion in its prime; healthy and magnificent and proud. The faded burn scars on his left arm and back took nothing away from that—they possibly even contributed to the overwhelming sense of masculinity that surrounded him. Add in the pure green eyes and that sun-shot hair, and it almost seemed as if he’d become more beautiful in the year’s absence…more wrong for her.

Gabe might have the looks that stopped women in their tracks, but it was the same kind of beauty as that of a tiger in the wild—dangerous and definitely untouchable. Not for the first time, she wondered at the lunacy of her decision to marry a man she knew so little about, notwithstanding that she’d grown up as his neighbor.

“So, what did you learn in L.A.?” he asked, long after they were safely in the air.

Still unsettled by the effect of his kiss, she had to fight to keep her voice calm. “That I can paint.”

“We both knew that, Jess. It was why you went to the States in the first place.”

“True.” She’d wanted to study under renowned painter Genevieve Legraux. “What I meant was I found out I could paint on a level that might support a career.” It had been a startling discovery for a woman who’d spent her whole life helping her parents on their small sheep station, snatching only pieces of time for her art.

“Genevieve encouraged me to submit my work to some galleries.” She’d even dared send something to Richard Dusevic, an Auckland-based and very well connected gallery owner who could make or break an artist’s career.

“You didn’t mention that during my calls.”

She shrugged, her mind flicking back to those twice-weekly conversations. They’d lasted no more than a few minutes at most but had inevitably left her feeling lost and confused. “I wanted to show you the actual paintings.” Because she knew that Gabe took nothing on faith. “They should be arriving soon—I shipped them.”

The sun glinted off his hair as he nodded. “Will you miss Los Angeles?”

“No.” She looked out the window. They were passing over the patchwork quilt of the Canterbury Plains. Soon they’d be in the Mackenzie Country, a stunning piece of paradise hidden in the shadow of New Zealand’s Southern Alps and the only place she’d ever truly called home. “I needed to get out of here for a while but not for always. I’m back to stay.”

“Are you?”

Picking up the edge in his tone, she turned from the window. “What kind of a question is that? We’re getting married…unless you’ve changed your mind?” Maybe he’d actually fallen in love with one of those sensual, confident women who graced his bed in an ever-changing parade. Her hands curled into fists at the thought.

“I’m ready.” He made a small adjustment to the controls. “It’s you I’m worried about.”

“I promised I’d return ready for marriage. And I have.” Shell-shocked by the twin blows of her father’s death and the foreclosure of Randall Station, she hadn’t had the strength to be anyone’s wife twelve months ago, much less that of a man like Gabriel.

“Damon and Kayla have separated.”

Her mind couldn’t make sense of the words. “What? But I thought you said Kayla was pregnant.”

“Heavily. Your boyfriend walked out on her three months ago.”

It was a slap. “Damon is my friend, nothing more.” Her fists tightened hard enough to hurt.

“No matter how much you wish otherwise?” He glanced at her, eyes so icy she could see nothing except her own reflection.

“Yes. No matter how much I wish otherwise,” she admitted, in spite of her humiliation. “He never loved me, not like he loves Kayla.”

“Doesn’t much seem like it. The boy’s running around with anything in possession of a pair of breasts.”

The blunt words brought heat to her cheeks. “He’s hardly a boy. He’s the same age as me.” And twenty-six was plenty old enough to grow up and grow up hard.

“He’s acting like a child right now.” Gabe ignored her statement. At thirty-five, he was nine years older and the gap was never more apparent than at times such as this.

“How did it happen?” she asked, white noise crashing through her mind. “And why didn’t you tell me before?”

He gave her an odd look. “Didn’t Damon?”

“What?” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “No, we haven’t talked since I left.”

“Never?”

“No,” she lied, trying not to think of that single phone call Damon had made from a bar four months ago. He’d been drunk, but he’d said things no married man should have said…things she shouldn’t have listened to. “Is it looking bad?”

“Rumor is they’re heading for divorce.”

“Poor Kayla.”

“Hypocrisy, Jess? I didn’t expect that from you.”

Her cheeks blazed anew. “No matter what you think, I wouldn’t wish that kind of pain on any woman. Unless…did she ask for the separation?”

“Not from the way she’s looking.”

“I can’t believe Damon would walk out on his marriage.”

“Maybe he finally realized what he’d given up.” There was no mistaking the challenge in Gabe’s voice. “What are you going to do?”

“Do?” She was still reeling from the implications of his first sentence.

“We’re getting married tomorrow and I plan on us staying that way. So if you’re intending on chasing off after Damon, you sure as hell better tell me now.”

Jess took a shuddering breath and let it out again. “How am I supposed to make any kind of decision right this second?”

“The same way you decided to marry me and use my money to go to L.A.”

“Don’t you throw that in my face! You agreed to me leaving the area for a year.”

Tanned skin pulled tight over the ruthless angle of his jaw. “Answer the damn question. Do you want to get married or not?”

In truth, she didn’t really have a choice. If she backed out, she’d lose her last fragile grip on the land that had once been Randall Station. “How much to buy back Randall?” Gabe had never particularly wanted it. The only reason he’d stepped in during the foreclosure was because she’d gone to him begging. But that didn’t change the fact that he now owned it. Owned her.

He snorted. “You didn’t have that kind of money then and you don’t have it now. Neither does Damon.”

Both undeniable facts. She also owed Gabe for the year in L.A.—a year she’d so desperately needed to grow up. And growing up was exactly what she’d done. She might love Damon, but she’d made a promise to her father on his deathbed and she would keep it. A Randall would always remain on Randall land. “I’ll marry you.”

“You’ll be signing a pre-nup.”

She heard the unsaid statement loud and clear. “I won’t be trying to get the land back in a divorce. You bought it free and clear.” And in doing so, he’d saved it from the developers who would have destroyed it completely.

Paying the price he’d demanded—marriage—hadn’t seemed like such a sacrifice then. Especially since she’d believed that the marriage would ask nothing from her in terms of emotional commitment, allowing her to keep body and soul safe. Protected. It had never crossed her mind that Gabe might not permit her that distance.

Until he’d kissed her.

“My lawyer will bring over the papers tomorrow morning.”

“Fine.” Gabriel’s money itself had never been the thing she was after. It was losing the right to step foot on the very land she’d been entrusted to hold that she couldn’t bear.

Silence filled the cockpit. Dropping her head against the seat, she tried to think past the painful knot in her throat. Damon was separated. A small, selfish part of her, the part that had loved Damon forever, wanted to tell Gabe to call off the wedding. But she’d stopped lying to herself a long time ago. Even if Damon was acting like a single man again, he’d never once seen her as anything other than his best friend.

To counter that logic her mind insisted on remembering Damon’s unexpected phone call, the things he’d said. Swallowing, she fought back with the knowledge that he’d been drinking. He hadn’t meant it. Any of it. She couldn’t afford to think otherwise.

“What’s with the weight loss?” Gabe’s sharp question cut through the air like a knife.

“It just happened.” A combination of grief, shock and the stress of those first few months in a strange city. “I thought you’d be pleased.” Because his women had always been long-limbed, slender beauties. Even now she was short and not quite skinny.

“I’m not marrying you for your body.”

She bit her lower lip. “No.” Despite that devastating kiss, she knew too well that rich, successful and extremely attractive Gabriel Dumont wasn’t marrying her for her body. Nor was he marrying her for her wit or her confirmed knowledge of station life. No, Gabriel was marrying her for one simple, practical reason: unlike every other woman who’d ever crossed his path, she had no romantic illusions about him.

She didn’t want or expect him to love her, not now, not ever. And that made her imminently suitable to marry a man who had no ability to love, and didn’t want to be bothered with a wife who’d disrupt his life with dreams of romance. “I got a dress in L.A. For the wedding,” she said, in an effort to fill the emptiness between them.

Gabriel wasn’t buying Jess’s apparent calm. “Not the least bit hesitant?”

“You gave me a year. I’m ready now.”

I need to find out who I am before I become Mrs. Dumont for the rest of my life…I never learned to stand up for myself and I know I’ll have that with you. If I don’t, you’ll destroy me without meaning to.

Her desperate plea the night they’d made the decision to marry slammed into his mind. The sheltered only daughter of late-in-life parents, she’d still been floundering three months after the loss of her single remaining parent—her father. Yet she’d had the courage to say to Gabe’s face what many never would—that he was quite capable of destroying a softer, less powerful personality with the unforgiving pragmatism of his own.

The woman beside him sounded nothing like the broken girl of twelve months ago…except for that underlying thread of courage. “Good,” he said, not certain he liked that quiet hint of steel. He’d chosen Jess because he’d known she’d ask less than nothing from him. All she cared about was keeping the former Randall Station in her family.

“You,” she said, stopped, then restarted. “You didn’t find another woman?”

“I want you to be my wife, Jess. I want you to live on Angel Station, take my name and bear my children.” He made sure she heard the determination in his voice—he’d made his choice and he’d stick with it.

The fact she felt nothing for him didn’t faze him in the least. He’d decided long ago that love would play no part in any marriage of his. “Unlike Damon, I’ve kept it in my pants since we got engaged.”

“Are you going to throw his name into every conversation we have?”

He glanced over at the unexpected rebuke to catch her with her eyes narrowed and her arms folded. It amused him. She might have grown up a little but Jess was still a featherweight in comparison to him. “Who do you want to invite to the wedding?”

She gave a frustrated sigh and thrust a hand through her hair, sending red curls every which way. He found his eyes lingering on the fiery strands. That was one thing about Jess that hadn’t changed—that wild, silky mass of hair so incongruous with her quiet, undemanding personality.

“I’d like to keep it small and if we invite some people from Kowhai,” she named the nearest town, “and not others, it’ll cause hard feelings. How about we limit it to the station folk?”

“Nobody else?”

“No,” Jess said, wondering if she was imagining the renewed edge in his tone. “Do people…?”

“Some have been guessing since they heard you were coming back and going straight to Angel.” He reached to flip a switch and she was transfixed by the pure strength under the golden-brown of his skin. “After the wedding is early enough to confirm the rumors.”

Jess nodded, unable to stop thinking that soon Gabe’s hands would be touching far more intimate things than the controls of a plane. The thought threatened to reawaken her earlier panic but she forced it down. The day she let that panic show was the day she lost any hope of making this marriage work. Gabriel would never respect a weak woman. “That’ll make it easier.”

“Four p.m. tomorrow all right for you?”

Her throat was so dry she had to cough lightly to clear it. “Okay.” There was no reason to wait—they’d made their bargain on a rainy night a year ago.

Now it was time for her to pay up.

Two

“I’ve put your things in the guest bedroom for tonight.” Gabe braced his hands on the verandah railing on either side of her, the masculine heat of his chest searing her back.

Her stomach twisted though she knew full well he would never force her. Gabe might be ruthless, but if she said no, he’d back off. And all talk of marriage would end. She’d be escorted off the station with no invitation to ever return.

“Only tonight?” she asked, focusing on the distant grandeur of the Alps. Located in the basin beneath those magnificent behemoths, the Mackenzie stunned even in the final grip of winter. But the aching beauty of her homeland couldn’t calm her at this moment. “You can’t mean us to…so soon?”

“We’re going to be married, Jess.”

“I know. But we can’t—”

“I was upfront with you about wanting children.”

It took every ounce of her courage to continue in the face of his intractable will. “I’m just saying we need time to get used to each other that way.”

“What way?” The words were spoken against the sensitive skin of her neck, his breath a hot caress.

Desire flashed through her bloodstream, a shock that threatened to turn her world upside down. “You know what I’m trying to say.”

“I’ve been celibate for a year.” A flat declaration. “If you want more time, find another man.”

“I can’t believe you said that.” She tried to turn but he refused to allow it. “You’re telling me you’ll call off the wedding if I don’t agree to have sex with you straight away?”

His body was an inescapable trap around hers. “Think about it, Jess. Why are we marrying? You want to keep the Randall land in your family and I’m thirty-five, at a stage in my life where I want children to ensure Angel Station’s future.

“Essentially, we’re marrying to provide heirs for both of us. If you’re not willing to do what it takes to create them, what’s the point? Either we start as we mean to go on or we don’t start at all.”

It was a brutally practical depiction of their bargain, heartbreaking in its truth. And it made her furious. Why couldn’t he have even tried to soften things this one time, when she most needed it? “I’m a virgin, Gabe. So if I make a few mistakes tomorrow, you’ll have to excuse me.”

He went completely, utterly motionless behind her. “What did you say?”

She was at once proud for having caught him off-guard, and more than a touch nervous about her admission. “You heard me.”

“Are you telling me Damon never tried anything?”

If he’d had been any other man, she’d have thought the question a deliberate attempt to rub salt into still-open wounds. But sly maliciousness wasn’t Gabe’s style—he attacked head on. “No.”

“And you didn’t find another lover?” He answered his own query before she could say anything. “Of course not. You were waiting for Damon to fall in love with you.”

His cruel guess cut far too close to the mark. “We both know that didn’t happen, so I’m rather less experienced than you might be used to.” The understatement of the century. Gabe’s women had always had sensuality oozing from their pores, a silent, dark knowledge in their eyes.

“Fine. I’ll train you myself.”

Stunned, she swiveled in his arms. “That had better have been a joke.”

He bent his head until his lips were a hairsbreadth from hers. “I thought you knew—I don’t have a sense of humor.” His kiss was nothing soft, nothing gentle. Pure male arrogance and resolve, he made her open her mouth for him and when she did, he took her.

No mercy. No holds barred.

As at the airport, Jess froze. But this time, the kiss didn’t end in a hard flash. It was an inferno and she found herself clinging to him without knowing how she’d gotten there, her body pressed to his, her mind awash in unadulterated need. When he did release her, it was only so she could gasp in a breath. Then he claimed her again.

And her thoughts scattered like a million grains of sand under a thundering surf.

Gabe took his time tasting Jess, enjoying the lush softness of her mouth. There was no doubt in his mind that she was responding to him on a primal level. It was exactly what he’d set out to achieve. Jess might love another man but she was going to be screaming her husband’s name in bed.

What he’d never expected was the exquisite pleasure she gave him in return. That didn’t make him happy. Passion had a way of sabotaging the best laid plans, of pushing things off-kilter. In choosing Jess, he’d made the deliberate decision to steer clear of desire. But here she was, wildfire in his arms.

Breaking the kiss, he watched her try to regain control, her breasts rubbing against his chest as she took several ragged breaths. Her lips were wet, her eyes closed and her body pliant. It was tempting to initiate another kiss but he had no intention of ceding power in this arena. Or any other.

Her eyes opened.

Rubbing his thumb over her lower lip, he dropped his other hand to rest on the curve of her hip. “We’ll have no problems in bed.”

The sweetly feminine submissiveness disappeared in a split-second. “Let me go. You’ve proved your point.”

Releasing her, he stepped back and dropped his eyes to the pebbled hardness of her nipples. A flush streaked up her neck but she didn’t make any effort to cover them. Stubborn. He’d delight in taming her. “Get some sleep. It’ll be a busy day tomorrow. And Jess, remember, I’m not a man who lets go of what’s mine.”

Mrs. Croft, the cook and housekeeper for the main house on Angel Station, was bustling about in the kitchen by the time Jess came downstairs at around seven the next morning.

“What’s with the sleeping in, Jess my girl?” The older woman bussed her on the cheek. A friend of Jess’s mother, she’d known Jess a long time.

Jess rubbed at her face, skin tingling from the cold water she’d used to wash it. “Blame it on the time change. Where’s Gabe?” She tried and failed in her attempt not to think about the ruthlessness with which he’d demonstrated her susceptibility to him last night. She shouldn’t have been surprised. Gabe had a reputation as an iron-willed adversary in business. Why had she supposed he’d be any different as a husband?

“Gone to check on the stock with Jim.” Mrs. C. named the foreman. “The man doesn’t seem to realize it’s his wedding day and he should be nervous.”

Jess almost laughed at the idea of Gabe being nervous about anything. Except today, she had no laughter in her. “Is there anything I can do to help you?” Maybe keeping busy would stop the thoughts pinwheeling through her mind.

The older woman waved away the offer. “Just sit and eat some breakfast. Then you’ll be free to pretty yourself up for the wedding.”

Jess ate the food that was put in front of her, but had anyone asked her what she’d eaten, she wouldn’t have been able to tell them. Her mind was too full of other things. The heart of her, the part that had loved Damon forever, kept insisting that she was making a terrible mistake, that she should walk away from this wedding. Maybe Damon…

No.

Kayla was pregnant. Jess wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something happened to either mother or child because of her actions. And the truth was, Damon had had more than two decades to fall in love with Jess. He’d always chosen someone else.

What about that phone call? The madness in her whispered again. Don’t you remember what he—Stop! Screaming silently at her self, she pushed aside the empty plate. “I think I’ll go for a walk to clear my head.”

Mrs. C. nodded. “Gabe’s out by the east barn.”

Smiling, Jess thanked her, walked outside and headed west. After last night, her husband-to-be was the last person she wanted to see. Because in those few explosive moments on the verandah, he’d destroyed everything she thought she knew about herself. What kind of a woman loved one man and kissed another with such passionate need?

Two of the sheepdogs ran past, then returned to circle her before deciding to lead the way. The interruption was precisely what she’d needed. Taking a deep, deep breath of the crisp morning air, she focused her attention on the untamed splendor of the land around her—tussock-covered hills dotted with sheep, hardy wildflowers more beautiful than any cultured garden and over it all, an endless blue sky.

Mind and body calmed. This was right. This land was where she was meant to be—everything in her knew it. She could never walk away.

No matter what the cost.

The dogs barked and raced off. She followed at a more leisurely pace, her eye taking in the west barn in the distance. It was the single structure to have survived the catastrophic fire twenty-five years ago. Her father had been one of those who’d come to fight the flames that night, but no one had been able to stop the conflagration. Like a beast let loose from some infernal region, it had devoured almost everything…and everyone.

Having reached the old building, she decided to push open the door and look around, but that was before she saw who was inside. “Mrs. C. said you were in the other barn.”

Gabe slammed one hay bale on top of another, sending dust sparkling into the invading sunlight. “So eager to see me?” Pulling off his work gloves, he thrust them into the back pocket of his jeans.

She refused to let him see how much he’d rattled her. “What are you doing here?” And why did her eyes keep going to the sweat-slick muscles of his arms, revealed by the short sleeves of his T-shirt?

“We needed to create some space in here and everyone else was busy.”

“Oh.” She scuffed the floor with her shoe. “Can I ask you something?”

His answer was a grunt as he shrugged into the sheepskin jacket he’d apparently thrown off earlier. Taking that as a yes, she carried on. “After the wedding sometime, maybe tomorrow or the day after…would you mind if we visited my parents?” They were buried next to each other in the Randall family cemetery, only about a sixty-minute drive away. Although Angel was a huge spread, the family quarters had been built relatively close to those of the adjoining station.

“Of course I don’t mind.” His face was all harsh masculine lines when he glanced at her, but she thought she heard a buried thread of unexpected gentleness.

His understanding probably wouldn’t last through her next request but she was going to start this marriage as she meant to go on—she would not let Gabriel Dumont crush either her mind or her spirit. “I want to visit your family, too.”

Silence.

“I don’t have any memories of them, but I know Michael was four, Angelica even younger.” No response. She pushed on. “They were your family. We should remember them.”

“Fine.” It was a flat sound but at least he’d agreed. “You ready for the wedding?” He nodded at the door.

She tugged it open, her palm sweaty in spite of the low temperature. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Stepping out, they began to walk toward the main house.

“We’re not going to have time for a honeymoon.”

“I understand. That’s okay.” It was no lie. The idea of being with Gabe 24/7 in some romantic resort tied her stomach up into a thousand knots. She was about to say something else when her attention was caught by a dark blue sedan pulling up to the house. It was followed by an almost identical vehicle in deep green. “Did you invite some other people?”

“That’s David Reese, my lawyer.” He picked up the pace. “The other car will be Phil Snell, your lawyer.”

“Mine?” She nearly had to jog to keep up with him.

“If you sign the pre-nup without independent legal advice, you could challenge it down the road.”

“Oh.”

They didn’t speak the rest of the way. Both lawyers were nice enough at first glance and when Phil took her aside for a private chat, Jess found him to be a very sharp operator. But of course he would be—Gabriel wanted this airtight.

“If you and Mr. Dumont divorce, you’ll have no claim on the land,” Phil summarized. “But you’ll get a substantial monetary settlement dependent on the duration of the marriage. It’s an extremely good deal. Your fiancé is a generous man.”

This had never been about money. It was about her heritage, about promises, about loyalty. “Where do I sign?”

Afterward, she walked up to her bedroom, something inexplicably heavy and painful inside of her. It seemed wrong that her wedding day should start like this, with a discussion of money and assets. But what else had she expected? Angel Station was Gabe’s heartbeat—as his future wife, she fell somewhere far, far lower on his list of priorities.

“Nothing you didn’t already know,” she whispered to herself, running her hand down the ivory satin of her wedding dress. So why was she suddenly so sure she was about to make the worst mistake of her life?

“I miss you, Jessie. I should’ve never let you go. Come back to me…”

Trembling, she picked up the phone, barely aware of what she was doing and began to punch in a number from memory. The first six digits were easy but a single tear streaked down her face as her finger hovered over the last one. No. Shaking her head, she hung up before she threw away both her father’s memory and her own self-respect in an effort to chase an impossible dream.

A few short hours later, her hand squeezed the delicate stems of her bouquet with crushing force. Having Gabe by her side should have comforted her but it only increased her gut-churning tension.

He was a man who’d never bend, never gentle to tenderness. Certainly not for his convenient bride. Instead, as his kisses had shown, he’d demand. And he’d demand far more than she’d ever expected to have to give.

“Do you, Jessica Bailey Randall, take this man to be your lawful wedded husband?”

And even then, something inside of her was waiting for Damon’s familiar voice to call the wedding to a halt. If he had, she might have given up everything—her principles, her promises, her loyalties. But Damon didn’t come, as he hadn’t come yesterday, though everyone in Kowhai had to know she was back.

She set her jaw. “I do.” Her eyes were locked with Gabe’s as she spoke and she was startled by the open hunger that stirred in their depths, though she shouldn’t have been. Gabriel Dumont was a man who held onto what he owned. Of course he’d be possessive with his bride, no matter that she’d been chosen for reasons other than passion.

As far as Gabe was concerned, she was now his.

She felt herself jerk at a loud cheer and realized she’d missed the rest of the ceremony.

“Jess?”

Blinking away her confusion, she looked up. “What?”

There was something very male in his eyes as he brushed aside a curl that had escaped her upswept hairdo. “They want a kiss. And so do I.”

“Oh.” She could feel a blush creeping over her cheeks as she stood on tiptoe, one hand braced against his shoulder.

When Gabe slid his palm across her bare nape, the roughness of his skin was an erotic caress she wasn’t ready for. She tried to stifle her gasp, but he’d heard. Smiling with masculine approval, he pressed her close using his other hand on her lower back. And then he kissed her.

Possession. Absolute, undeniable possession.

That was what it felt like, a branding even more dangerous than the claim of his kiss the night before. Yet once again, she couldn’t keep her body from molding to his, her arms from going around his waist, reason and sense obliterated under an avalanche of piercing sensation.

An unexpected wolf-whistle splintered the moment, jolting her into pulling away. But she only got loose because Gabe decided to set her free. In the second before he turned to face the others, she saw something both very satisfied and very impatient in his eyes.

Gabriel was ready to seal their deal.

In the most physical way.

Three

Four hours, endless dances with the station hands and two flutes of champagne later, Jess was having trouble deciding what to wear. Stripping down to the corset-like lace teddy, which was all she’d been able to find to support her under the smooth lines of the dress, was out of the question. So was the slinky nightgown gifted to her by a beaming Mrs. C.

But if she wore her favorite old T-shirt, Gabe might think she was being deliberately provocative, defying both him and the explicitly stated rules of their agreement. She had no doubts that he was ruthless enough to call off the whole cold-blooded affair if she didn’t hold up her end of the bargain.

Which left her standing in front of the wardrobe, considering her options for the hundredth time. As a result, she was in no way prepared to hear the connecting door between her room and the master bedroom open.

Her heartbeat a jackhammer against her ribs, she swiveled to face him. “I thought you were downstairs.”

Having already undone and rolled up the cuffs to bare sun-browned forearms, Gabe now undid the top two buttons of his white dress shirt. “I figured my business with Jim could wait.”

“Oh.” She lifted a hand to her hair then dropped it again, not sure what to do with herself—knowledge was one thing, experience quite another. “I’m not ready.”

His smile was slow, sensual and very pleased. “I’ll take care of that.”

She blushed despite having coached herself to be calm and sensible about the whole thing. What she hadn’t factored in was the sheer impact of Gabriel Dumont. And tonight, he was concentrating solely on her.

Her breath grew jagged and she found it difficult to focus—her vision had constricted until the only thing she could see was her new husband. Reaching her, he put his hands on her waist, that smile segueing into an expression that was darker, more sexual. Her body responded to the change with a melting warmth that shocked her into an instant of clarity.

She raised her own hands and put them against his chest with some vague idea of holding him off. She realized her mistake immediately—the flimsy barrier would do nothing to keep him at bay, not when her body was all too willing. And as the heat of him scorched her through the fine cotton of his shirt, she found herself craving more rather than less.

Leaving one hand on her waist, he began to pull out the pins in her hair with the other. “I like your curls, Jess.” Stark masculine approval.

“It’s become a lot more auburn since I was young.” She didn’t know why she’d made that inane comment. As if he cared that she’d been a real carrot-top until fate had taken pity on her. Even after having lost weight, she considered her hair her one glory…and Gabriel liked it. That shouldn’t have mattered, but it did.

“Hmm.” He continued to unravel the piled mass, dropping the pins to the floor. “I don’t want you to cut it.” She made a non-committal noise and he smiled, a gleam in his eye. “You wouldn’t hack it off just to spite me, would you?”

The childish thought had, in fact, passed through her head a second before, but she wasn’t going to admit that. Especially when she didn’t understand it herself—it simply seemed to be wrong to enjoy any aspect of this marriage that had been meant to be the coldest of transactions. “Are the pins all out?”

He thrust both hands through the waves. “Looks like it.” Prosaic words but his fingers were playing along the back of her nape, teasing the already sensitive spot.

She wanted to sigh and beg for more.

What was she thinking? Panic at her complete inability to remain strong against this man shot through her bloodstream, giving her courage a frantic boost. “Gabe, you don’t have to go slow. Let’s get this over with.” It was a willful attempt to provoke him. An angry Gabriel would be far easier to resist than this temptingly seductive male with his ability to ignite things in her that should have been dead to him.

But his only reaction was to shake his head. “Oh, no, Jess. You don’t get to reduce this to nothing more than a quick, meaningless bang.”

Embarrassment flooded her. But he wasn’t finished. “I’m going to pleasure you, my darling wife. It’s my job as your husband.”

She was sure he was taunting her. “Stop playing games.”

Moving so swiftly that she had no chance to step away, he scooped her up in his arms. “I’m absolutely serious. I want my wife screaming for me.”

Her skin went taut at the utter resolve in those green eyes. She could find no words with which to respond as he carried her to the master bedroom and set her on her feet by the bed. The sexual charge between them was electric.

Caught in its surge, she didn’t have the will to drop her arms from his neck as he wrapped his own around her back and began to slide down the zipper, slow and careful. Every nerve in her body was already stretched to the limit—the leisurely descent threatened to make them snap. Taking a shuddering breath, she closed her eyes in an effort to regain her balance.

His lips followed her into the darkness, sweeping her under. Gabriel kissed like the man he was—confident, possessive and fully in control. One of his hands rose to tangle in her hair, tugging back her head to facilitate his taking of her mouth, while the other slipped inside the now open zipper to lie flat on the naked skin of her upper back.

She moaned, captured by the undercurrent of hunger that lay every sweep of his tongue, every press of his lips. Escape was a word she no longer remembered and addiction was a very real possibility.

When he did set her free, it was only so he could kiss his way across her jaw and down her neck. She tipped her head, cooperating without conscious thought. Nothing she’d ever done had prepared her for this assault on her senses, this layering of pleasure upon pleasure.

Gabriel’s hand was rough against her skin, the hand of a man who worked the land. But on her neck, his lips were almost velvet soft—a seductive contrast. She lost her breath as he closed his teeth over a pulse point, then released with exquisite deliberation, scraping those same strong teeth along the sensitive flesh.

“Mmm.”

Her senses melted under the sound of blatant male appreciation. And the surrender was so sudden and total that something slumbering inside of her jerked to full wakefulness. This wasn’t right, wasn’t how it should be.

She’d prepared herself for going to bed with Gabriel, had told herself she’d bear the experience, though it would hurt to sleep with a man she didn’t love. Yet here she was, coming apart in his arms. It confused her, made her want to pull away. But the fact was that her last-ditch effort to regain control stood no chance of success, she was so completely out of her league.

Under her dress, Gabe curved one hand around her ribs to lightly brush the side of a lace-covered breast, destroying all thoughts of rebellion. Her sharp cry made him chuckle. It was a very sexual sound. Even she understood that tone, the tone of a man who knew he had a woman in the palm of his hands. Tonight he was the master and she very much the novice.

The thought sparked a new burst of defiance. She might not be able to stop herself from going under but she refused to give in completely. Thrusting her hands into his hair, she tugged and made him raise his head. “Why do I have to be the one who’s undressed first?” Her voice was husky, her words uttered on a gasp, but at least she’d gotten them out.

“Here I am. Unbutton the shirt.” It was both an order and a dare. He didn’t think she’d do it.

So she did.

Tanned male skin appeared bare inches from her lips—pure temptation that locked up her throat and shot arrows of need to her most private core. She’d made a bad miscalculation. However she had no intention of backing down. Mouth dry, she continued down his chest and stomach, pulling the shirt from his pants to finish the job.

When he kissed her again, her hands were still between their bodies and it was inevitable that she’d flatten them on his chest. The shock of skin to skin contact made her tremble. There was nothing soft about Gabriel. The man was built like a lean, beautiful machine and the womanly heart of her could only appreciate him.

When he slid the hand from her hair along her shoulders, she instinctively understood the silent request. Dropping her hands from his chest, she let him pull the dress down her arms. To her surprise, he stopped with the neckline just above her breasts and let go. Her hand shot up in a responsive movement, clutching the satin to her chest.

His eyes glittered with passion, unshielded in a way she’d never before seen. “Do it for me, Jess.”

There was nothing else she could do, not with the fury of passion between them. Her body had triumphed over her mind, taken over everything she’d ever known about her own needs and desires. Unable to hold the power of that gaze, she looked away…and released the dress. It slid off her body like cool water.

Silence.

She found the courage to look up.

Green eyes clashed with her own and time stopped.

“Beautiful.” He broke the connection to run those eyes down the corset-like teddy, to the point where the lace tops of her stockings met the bare skin of her upper thighs. Then he retraced his journey, leaving her scarcely able to breathe. And that was before he shrugged off his shirt.

She bit back a whimper but not soon enough.

“If you want to touch, do it.” His hands went to her waist and stroked down to close over the curves of her bottom with boldness that made it very, very clear he considered her his in the most basic sense.

Hands fisted against his chest, she fought the urge to lean closer to taste him. His skin was beautiful, healthy and golden brown, radiating power. A second later, he used that strength to pick her up and drop her lightly on the bed.

Then never taking his eyes off her, he sat down on the edge to remove his socks. The muscled temptation of his back laid waste to her final defenses. She was about to reach out to touch when he stood. His hands went to his belt.

Fingers grasping the sheets, she watched mesmerized as he unbuckled the belt and pulled it out of the loops. It fell to the carpeted floor with a dull metallic sound. But she could hardly hear anything, her attention fixated on his fingers as they undid the top button of his pants.

Then he pulled down the zipper.

Cheeks ablaze, she closed her eyes and felt—more than heard—his low chuckle as he got rid of the pants and climbed into bed beside her. Throwing one leg over her lower body, he put a hand on her stomach. “I’m not naked…yet.” It was a scandalous whisper in her ear.

Opening her eyes, she found his lips a thought away from hers, his eyes holding no amusement despite that chuckle. The hand on her stomach slid lower.

“Stay with me,” he ordered when she would have turned her head.

She stayed, admitting to herself that she was a full participant in this dance at the very instant that he moved to cup her intimately. Her body arched up and she found herself squeezing her thighs to hold him to her. Giving a hoarse groan, he kissed her hard, that big hand rubbing the excruciating need between her legs. A second later, he was gone. She cried out at the loss, the sound so desperate she shocked herself.

“I want you naked.” His fingers begin to unlace the ribbons holding together the teddy. His clenched jaw left no question as to the force of his arousal. “Where did you get this?”

“Hollywood Boulevard,” she managed to answer.

Kissing the curve of her neck, he pushed one hair-roughened thigh between hers. “Wear it for me again.” It was a definite command.

She might have protested his arrogance had he not chosen that moment to peel apart the sides of the teddy and cover a breast with his palm. Her mind splintering, she pushed into that callused male touch. But he released her far too soon. She had to bite her lower lip to keep from begging him to come back.

“I like the way you look at me, Jess. Now it’s time for me to look at you.” Rising to his knees, he moved until he could tug the teddy off completely and throw it aside. Then he took inventory of her with his eyes—from the tips of her stocking-covered toes to the curves of her hips to the peaks of her breasts. Jess felt every look like a physical touch and when he pushed up her legs to bend them at the knee, she didn’t have the will to protest, much less the ability.

He spread her knees to kneel between them, his body heat an exquisite caress. Running his hands under her thighs and bottom to her lower back, he pulled her up to straddle him.

“Oh!” She grabbed at his shoulders to steady herself, suddenly conscious of the rigid length of his arousal against her.

It was as if he’d seen the knowledge in her eyes. “Relax, darling. I haven’t finished tasting you.”

She swallowed. In this position, she was completely at his mercy. But he didn’t tease, instead gave her exactly what she wanted by dipping his head and taking her nipple into his mouth. The hard suction tugged low and deep inside of her, tempting her, taunting her.

Her fingernails dug into his shoulders, the flesh slick and hot under her skin. He was so unapologetically male that everything female in her reacted to him, softening, weakening…melting.

As a result, when he used his hands to ease her down onto the bed, she was lost enough to say, “Gabe, please.”

Swearing under his breath, he moved to drag off his briefs. But he returned to his position an instant later, his hands going under her thighs. “Wrap your legs around my waist.” The rawness of his voice was as much an aphrodisiac as the skin stretched tight over his cheekbones.

She did as he asked. And realized that her body was angled slightly upward, in perfect position for his claiming. Instinct screamed that the penetration would be deep, incredibly so. “Gabe,” she whispered. “It’ll be too much.”

“I’ll ease you through it.” He stroked his hand up her body to curve over her breast and though his words were calm, his eyes were anything but.

She had the feeling he was hanging on by a very thin thread, the pulsing length of his erection a physical mark of desire against the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. A small part of her feared the intensity of him, but that part was buried under the crushing force of her own need.

Gripping her bottom, he nudged at her with that length of hard, hot flesh. Lightning sizzled up her body and when he pushed in, she screamed. But Gabe was true to his word, easing his way into her so slowly she thought she’d go mad. He touched places inside of her that no one had ever touched, bringing intense pleasure.

And no pain.

“I’m damn glad you’re a rider, Jess,” he almost growled as he filled her, going so deep that she could feel his heartbeat in her body.

Not aware enough to understand what he was referring to, she squeezed intimate muscles around him in a reaction as old as time itself. Throwing back his head, he tightened his hold on her and began to move. His rhythm was fast, his strokes deep. She screamed and screamed as he pushed her over the edge in a tempest of hot breaths and powerful thrusts.

And when she fell, it was as a marked woman. Gabriel Dumont’s woman.

Jess felt raw, exposed. He’d shattered her, claimed her passion and left her powerless. And she’d let him. Begged him. Now that the haze of desire had faded to reveal harsh reality, she couldn’t accept or understand the depth of her capitulation.

He wasn’t supposed to be the man who made her yearn!

It felt as though she’d given up her dream in that bed…given up Damon. Every time she’d felt pleasure, every time she’d screamed, she’d betrayed the love that had lived in her heart for a lifetime. And she didn’t understand how that could have happened. Gabe wasn’t the kind of man she could ever love. She wasn’t even sure she liked him.

Sliding quietly out of bed, she pulled on the first thing that came to hand. Unfortunately, it was Gabe’s shirt. The scent of him was in the fibers, on her skin, in the air. It mocked her with echoes of what he’d taken…what she’d relinquished. As she searched for her dress so she could get rid of the shirt, she heard the sheets rustle.

“Where are you going, Jess?”

A bedside lamp came on.

Blinking against the glare, she tucked her hair behind her ears and buttoned up the shirt. “To my own bedroom.”

His eyes were cold, focused. “I was under the impression you were already there.”

“Look,” she said, finding courage from the ragged tatters of her pride. “We’ve consummated the marriage. There’s no need for us to be in the same bed anymore. I’d rather sleep on my own.” She hugged her arms around herself. “I’ll…I’ll let you know if we were successful.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m not that arrogant—it’s probably going to take more than one try.”

She bit her lower lip, trying not to look at the muscled upper body she’d caressed so feverishly less than an hour ago. “Well we can’t do anything for a couple of days anyway. It didn’t hurt during but I’m sore now.” Despite the humiliating awkwardness of the admission, she forced herself to meet his eye, aware that Gabriel would capitalize on the slightest indication of weakness with brutal efficiency.

He flicked off the light. “Suit yourself. But don’t try to use sex against me. I don’t play those kinds of games.”

“I’m not playing a game.”

“Aren’t you?” He snorted. “If you think I’m going to agree to carry on with a marriage where my wife saves herself for another man, you’re sadly mistaken.”

Four

“How dare you!”

“I asked you to be my wife, not my roommate. Decide what you want.”

Not replying, Jess slammed through the connecting door between their rooms. Gabriel folded his arms behind his head and unclenched his jaw with conscious application of will. No woman had ever made the rules in his bed. And Jess wasn’t going to get the chance to be the first. He’d meant what he’d said—he had no intention of living in a sexless marriage, not when bed was the one place where he…Shoving away that thought, he sat up.

Sleep was not what he wanted right now. He’d been more than ready for a replay of their first time together before Jess had pulled her little stunt. The woman had turned into pure lightning in his arms, the most responsive lover he’d ever had. He hadn’t wanted passion when he’d chosen her, hadn’t thought she’d incite it in him. But she had. He was willing to live with that fact, so long as it was confined to the bed. The primitive in him liked knowing he’d been the only man to taste his wife’s screams.

Hard on the heels of that thought came a far less pleasant one. Damon. Gabriel had made it his business to keep tabs on the other man since learning of the separation and knew that he’d recently been sniffing around for information about Jess.

His hand fisted.

Jess could love Damon all she liked. It made no difference to Gabe except that it meant she’d never expect anything emotional from him. But he had no intention of putting up with a “friendship” between his wife and the younger man.

Jess might hate Gabe for it but she’d known who and what he was when she’d married him. He held on to what was his and Jess was now his. End of story.

Jess woke with gritty eyes. Checking the clock, she saw it was a few minutes before five. “Four hours of sleep. Great.” A sound reached her from the bedroom next door and she realized Gabe was probably already up. Trying not to think about him or what they’d done in the tantalizing privacy of the night, she tugged the blanket to her chin.

The scent that rose up around her was that of the very man she’d been attempting to ignore. Thoughts derailed by anger, she’d forgotten to take off Gabe’s shirt and now the lapse taunted her into full consciousness. “Arrgh!” She decided she might as well get up and shower.

The hot water poured a balm over muscles unused to the kind of activity she’d indulged in the previous night. An activity she definitely did not want to think about, but which she couldn’t seem to excise from her brain.

She’d just finished dressing and was standing in front of the window brushing her hair when a perfunctory knock sounded on the connecting door. Gabe walked in a second later. Clad in an old pair of jeans and a rough work shirt, his sexuality was somehow even more intense, more powerfully real. Her nerves quickfired, recalling the demands he’d made in the dark, the exquisite pain of sensual pleasure.

“Good morning.” He gave her an amused smile, clearly aware of his effect on her.

That arrogance snapped her back to her senses. “I didn’t say you could come in.” Pulling the brush hard through her hair, she returned her attention to the predawn darkness.

He closed the gap to stand next to her, a powerful presence she’d touched intimately but knew only as a shadow. “Be ready to head out at seven.”

“Where are we going?”

“To visit your parents.”

Her animosity disappeared. “Thank you.” Placing the brush on the windowsill, she forced herself to face him.

The eyes that looked back at her were completely unreadable. “Kiss me good morning, Jess.”

“I don’t take orders well.”

“Funny, you followed them perfectly last night.”

Her spine stiffened to ruler-straightness. “Exactly the kind of thing a woman wants to hear after her first time.”

He winced. “Point taken.”

Her mouth fell open at the oblique apology. Gabe took full advantage, sliding his hand to her nape and claiming the kiss he’d asked for. Still sensitive from the unbridled sexuality of the previous night, her defenses were pitifully weak. She was horrified to hear herself make a sound of protest when he began to pull away. But Gabe liked it. Folding her into his arms, he kissed her with even more intensity.

By the time he finally left the room, she was in complete emotional disarray. This had not been in the plan, this acute response to his touch. She’d always talked about love and sex in the same breath, always assumed she’d care deeply for any man she made love with. Yet here she was, shattering every time Gabe touched her. It shamed her deeply.

And the worst thing was, she had no idea how to fight it. Her love for Damon had insulated her against other men since the day she’d reached adulthood. But that shield had buckled under the potent seduction of Gabe’s masculinity.

Unable to think of anything that would make her feel better about her sudden descent into lust unaccompanied by love or romance, she did what she always did when she needed to think. She pulled out a sketch pad and began to draw.

She began every project with a detailed sketch, never putting oil paint to canvas until she’d worked out all the dimensions and angles. In truth, she wasn’t impulsive in any area of her art—she carefully thought through the subject before she created, step by slow step. But today she let her hand run free with no conscious interference. What emerged was an image of the face she’d carried in her heart for over a decade.

If only Damon hadn’t waited so long to make that drunken call, she wouldn’t be here. They would have been married long before her father’s death, would have found some other way to hold onto Randall Station. But he’d waited until it was eons too late, Kayla’s pregnancy combined with Jess’s debt to Gabriel opening an impassable chasm between them.

That distance hurt. Damon had been her closest friend since childhood, their relationship a combination of mischief and laughter. He’d helped her see the sunshine again after her mother’s early death, teasing her out of tears and forcing her to rejoin the world. She’d confessed her secrets to him, listened to his in return, and somewhere between childhood and womanhood, she’d fallen in love.

He’d broken her heart when he’d married Kayla. And he’d crushed it again with that phone call. “Why?” she whispered to the sketch. “Why did you wait so long?”

It was as well they hadn’t met before her wedding—Jess wasn’t sure she could have withstood his declarations in person. And now she was Gabriel’s. Not that it mattered. If Damon had truly meant what he’d said, he would have tracked her down the moment she arrived home. But he hadn’t. Why?

Throwing the pencil to the floor, she dropped her head into her hands. “Help me.” It was a tortured whisper. But no one was listening.

Several hours later, Jess looked out at the Dumont family plot from inside the Jeep. She’d forced this visit but now that they were here, she was no longer sure she’d made the right decision. It was apparent that Gabe would much rather be elsewhere.

“Are you coming?” she asked, opening her door. He’d surprised her by accompanying her to her parents’ graves. She had no idea what to expect from him this time, especially since he’d been so silent on the long drive back to Angel.

He undid his seat belt and got out, not saying a word as she opened the back door and reached for the greenery and flowers she’d gathered from around the station. But he was by her side when she walked toward the final resting places of Stephen, Mary, Raphael, Michael and Angelica Dumont.

Stopping in front of Raphael’s grave, she looked up at him. “Would you like to lay the flowers?”

“No.” His tone made it crystal clear he considered this a waste of time.

She was cut to the quick but refused to rush. This was important.

Gabe reacted only when she went to put flowers on his mother’s resting place. Striding over, he moved them to his sister’s instead.

“Gabe?”

“Are you done?”

“Yes.” She rose from her crouch, eyes on the harsh lines of a face she found impossible to read. “But…”

“But what, Jess? They’re dead and have been for twenty-five years.” He glanced at his watch. “I have to check some fencing. We’d better head back.”

She grabbed his hand to stop him when he would have turned away, acting more out of instinct than logic. His eyes slammed into hers, but she found the courage to stand her ground. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize how much this would hurt you.”

He raised an eyebrow. “I’m fine. You’re the one who wanted to come out here.”

“Gabe,” she began, convinced she’d glimpsed a deep vulnerability behind his uncaring mask. Hope fountained in her blood. Perhaps her marriage wouldn’t be a soulless one after all. If Gabe could feel so intensely, then maybe what had gone on between them last night hadn’t been based on lust alone.

“Jess, you know me. I’m not some wounded hero you have to save. I was ten years old when they died. I barely remember them.” Turning, he shrugged off her hand and strode to the car.

Jess wanted to believe he was lying but the look on his face as he’d spoken had been nothing but calm, nothing but completely in control. Hope crumbled. No wonder Gabe never visited his parents’ and siblings’ graves—the man didn’t even have the heart to love their memory.

An entire day and a surprisingly undisturbed night of sleep later, Jess was sketching on the verandah when a battered old pickup roared down the drive. She waited for whoever it was to park and walk over, but the driver raced all the way to the edge of the verandah before braking to a sudden halt on the grass.

Frowning at the theatrics, she put down the sketch pad. Who in the—? The vehicle’s door swung open and out jumped the last person she’d expected to see.

“Jessie girl!” Running up the steps, Damon wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off her feet.

It was impossible not to be happy to see him, not when she’d missed him so very much. Blue-eyed with jet black hair, Damon had the looks of a movie star or a playboy. But it was his smile she’d fallen for, a bright slash that constantly proclaimed his amusement at the whole world.

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