Blackhawk's Sweet Revenge. Barbara McCauleyЧитать онлайн книгу.
“Mason Hadley manipulated paperwork to steal my father’s ranch, shot him, then had him falsely sent to prison where he died. Tell me what’s enough. How much will it take before that wrong is made right?”
Her eyes opened wide now in understanding. “And you’d use me to complete your revenge? Saddle yourself with a woman who would only remind you of that pain every day?”
“It’s your father who will be reminded every day,” he said harshly. “I’ll have his land and his daughter. And a man would hardly consider himself saddled to a woman with your looks, sweetheart. In fact, you could be quite an asset.”
He watched her close her eyes tightly, as if she were trying to shut out the horror of it all. He should feel extreme satisfaction at her obvious distaste of marriage to him, but he felt a cold rage instead. He could almost hear her thoughts. How dare the lowly half-breed propose marriage to a woman of her stature. How appalling. He could still hear her words to him this afternoon when he’d bent to help her pick up the broken coffee cup in her father’s office. Keep away from me, Lucas.
Remembering those words, he leaned in even closer to her. “It might not be awful,” he said huskily. “Women say I know how to please. I bet I could even please you.”
He brushed his lips over hers—barely a whisper of a touch—felt and heard her soft intake of breath. He lingered there a moment, surprised that she didn’t jerk away, that she didn’t raise her hand to slap his face. Even more surprised at the shudder he felt move through her body. Was it repulsion, he wondered, or desire? Either way, his own body responded instantly. He curled his hands around her arms, brought her up against him, a mixture of anger and longing raging through him. He could take her right here, right now. She’d let him, he was certain of that
Thunder shook the windows, and Julianna’s eyes opened wide. He saw the confusion there, the fear and something else, something he couldn’t name. A second crack of thunder brought him back to reality, and he released her.
She fell back against the bar, steadied herself as she drew in a long, slow breath. “I still don’t understand, Lucas. You wouldn’t have to marry me. You could just...I mean, I could...”
“Be my mistress?” he finished for her.
She nodded. “I would think that would be more convenient for you.”
“Let’s just call this a long-term investment. One that includes children.”
“Children?” she gasped. “You want me to have a child with you?”
He struggled to control his anger over the shocked tone in her voice. “I want a family, and their mother will be my wife, not my mistress. Though I see-no reason not to have both.” He smiled tightly, cupped her chin in his hand. “But make no mistake, Julianna. You will not be given that privilege. You will be mine, and mine alone.”
“And love, Lucas?” she asked, her voice barely audible. “What about love?”
He laughed dryly, shook his head. “Love is a fairy tale, sweetheart. We won’t be riding into any sunsets or spouting happily-ever-afters. You’ll take care of our home, raise our children—if there are any—and you’ll have your house.”
Her breathing quickened; he could see her mind racing. “But your business,” she argued, “you work in Dallas.”
“As soon as you’re settled here, I’ll spend most of my time there. I’m sure you won’t object to that.” He traced the delicate line of her jaw. “But don’t worry, I’ll be back to check up on you, just so you don’t get too lonely. So what’s your answer?”
What was her answer?
Dare she let him see that he’d just offered her more than she could have ever dreamed? Marriage, her grandparents’ house. Children. Dear God. Her chest tightened with the thought.
She’d never truly considered marriage or children while her mother was alive. Caring for her had been full-time, and Julianna had known that if she’d left, her father would have sent her mother to a home. Some place where no one would care about her or love her.
But during that time when she’d been looking after her mother, she’d never loved any of the men she’d occasionally gone out with.
Not like she’d loved Lucas.
What a laugh that would be for him, to know that she loved him. She’d only been nine when she’d watched him stand up to her father, watched him bravely keep his head high, even as he was taken off to the County Home for Boys. She’d always respected his honesty, admired his courage. He’d never given a damn what anyone thought, except maybe Nick Santos and Ian Shawnessy, his best friends. His only friends. Which was still two more than she’d ever had. She’d watched them together from afar, always envied their friendship.
She’d been a coward her entire life, had always been afraid to stand up for herself. Would she be afraid now, afraid to say yes, when that was what she really wanted?
But making her happy was certainly not part of Lucas’s revenge. She couldn’t let him know how much she wanted this, how much she wanted to be his wife, the mother of his children, even without love. To have her house and children, that would be happiness enough for her.
She breathed deeply, held his dark gaze. “Will you put it in writing, that the house will be mine after we marry?”
“As long as you accept my conditions, the house will be in both our names.” He touched her cheek, though gently this time. “And there’ll be no divorce, Julianna. Don’t even think about it. Till death do us part.”
Outside, the storm continued to rage. And here, inside, with Lucas, her heart pounding, her knees shaking, Julianna drew strength from a place deep within her that she’d never even known existed.
“All right, Lucas,” she said, her voice steady and clear. “I’ll marry you.”
Three days later, at four in the afternoon, Lucas stood shoulder to shoulder with Julianna in the Wolf River courthouse. Nick Santos, who’d arrived on his motorcycle only an hour earlier in a ground-trembling display of shiny chrome and black leather, stood to Lucas’s right. Judge Martin Winters, the white-haired, bushy-browed justice of the peace, frowned darkly through the entire ceremony, his hostility aimed directly at Lucas.
Lucas kept his gaze firmly on the judge, repeating back to him the vows of marriage. What the hell did the old man think? Lucas wondered irritably. That Julianna would be starved or beaten? He hadn’t put a gun to her head. She was here of her own free will, had willingly agreed to all the medical tests and signed the marriage license.
He glanced at her now, watched as her trembling lips echoed the words that would bind her to him forever. Her hand was like ice when he slipped a ring on her finger. When she stumbled over “love and honor,” Judge Winters scowled, then sighed and proclaimed them man and wife with an enthusiasm that equaled a jailer slamming the cell door on a prisoner.
Her face was as white as her simple suit, her hair swept up and pinned primly in a French roll. Small diamond studs sparkled at her earlobes. He’d expected her to wear black, but then, he’d never really believed she would show up at all.
Julianna Hadley was now Julianna Blackhawk.
He turned to kiss her, ignoring the sniffle from Mrs. Talbot, the matronly court secretary who’d been Julianna’s witness. He vaguely remembered the woman, recalled her hair had been brown twenty years ago, not gray. She’d been kind to him the night he’d been arrested at Hadley’s mansion and led handcuffed into the jail. Lucas was certain the woman remembered him, as well, and wondered if her sniffle was one of joy for the newlyweds or misery.
He pressed his lips to Julianna’s, was surprised that she didn’t turn away from him. Her eyes fluttered closed, then opened slowly when he moved away.
“Out of the way, Blackhawk.” Nick shouldered