Read the book: «Bride Included»

CHAPTER ONE

“MOM!” Josie McAllister’s ten-year-old daughter, Kellie, burst into the kitchen, her wide green eyes filled with panic. “There’s a big man on a horse riding across the pasture. He’s headed toward the house and he looks mean!”

Josie frowned and washed her hands, sticky from the biscuits she’d just cut out for dinner. “Are you sure it’s not one of the ranch hands?”

“I’m sure!” Kellie’s chest heaved with panting breaths and her face was flushed, as if she’d bolted across the hundred yards separating the stables from the main ranch house. “I’ve never seen him before!”

Josie wiped her hands on a terry towel, a twinge of uncertainty rippling through her. It was Sunday, and even though her foreman, Mac, usually stopped by to check on the stock, the rest of the hands spent the day with their families. She’d heard Mac pull his old beat-up Ford out of the driveway over an hour ago, which meant she and Kellie were alone.

Normally, that wouldn’t be cause for concern. She’d lived in this house her entire life, and not once had a stranger or drifter threatened her or her father. She trusted the men they’d hired and had been lucky in that respect.

Tears filled Kellie’s eyes, and she tugged urgently on her mother’s arm, gaining her attention again. Josie wanted to believe her daughter was just being overly dramatic, but Kellie had never been the theatrical type. She was shy and mild-mannered, and had certainly never been prone to hysterics before.

Tossing the hand towel onto the counter, she gave her daughter a reassuring smile. “Come on, let’s go see who it is.”

Instead of opening the front door as she’d normally do to greet a visitor, she gave in to caution and pushed back the cream sheers covering the window in the entryway. She glanced out just as a man dismounted from a beautiful chestnut down by the stables and draped the horse’s reins on the hitching post.

The man was big—at least six foot two, with wide shoulders that tapered into a trim waist, lean hips and a horseman’s thighs. Even from this distance, she could see he was physically fit, and even though he hadn’t turned around so she could see his face, she instinctively knew he wasn’t one of her men. None of her ranch hands had a presence like this cowboy, a natural air about him that commanded respect and authority.

He turned and strode purposefully toward the main house. Still, she didn’t recognize him, but then the brim of his black Stetson cast shadows over his features. He wore a blue-striped Western shirt and a dark pair of jeans cinched at the waist with a heavy belt buckle.

“Mom, who is he?” Kellie whispered from beside her, as if the man had the ability to hear them.

“I don’t know...” The rest of her sentence caught in her throat as the man pushed his hat back on his head, finally offering her a glimpse of his face. Everything inside her went cold, like the biting chill that swept through the Montana mountains in the winter.

Seth O’Connor, the boy who’d tormented her throughout grade school, and in high school had scorched her with kisses she’d never forgotten, stolen her virginity and her heart, then had spurned her, nearly destroying her in the process. That had been eleven years ago, and even though they hadn’t spoken to each other since that day that had irrevocably changed her life, she’d seen him around town. He never looked her way, never gave any indication that she existed for him or that she’d ever meant anything more to him than the revenge he’d extracted.

She closed her eyes to block the painful memories. They’d been neighbors all their lives, her father’s property adjoining Seth’s father’s land. Nearly a thousand acres separated their homesteads, and given the feud that had kept both families in contention for over seven decades, the chasm could have been the width of two continents.

“Mom, are you okay?”

Kellie’s worried voice reached her, pulling her back from the past. She blinked her eyes open and her stomach lurched when she saw that Seth was more than halfway across the yard. His face looked grim, his stride quickly eating up the distance.

He didn’t look like he was here on the Golden M for a social call. Feeling threatened as never before, she darted into the living room, grabbed the key above the glass-enclosed cabinet displaying her grandfather’s rifles and inserted it into the lock. One sure twist and the panel swung open. She grabbed the rifle on the rack in front of her, yanked out the drawer beneath for ammunition. In less than fifteen seconds, the rifle was loaded and she was heading back toward the front door.

“Mom!” Kellie cried fearfully.

“Go up to your room and stay there!” Josie ordered, and waited while her daughter obeyed and was safely on the second landing before she walked out onto the porch and lifted the rifle, bracing the butt firmly against her shoulder and taking aim at the man’s heart. “Stop right there, O’Connor.”

To his credit, he immediately halted, putting him ten feet away from the porch steps and too close for Josie’s comfort. His jaw clenched. He didn’t like her having the upper hand—she could see it in the narrowing of his eyes, the subtle tensing of his cowboy-honed body.

She never believed she would stand this close to him again, never believed she’d threaten him with a rifle, either But she wasn’t taking any chances where Seth O’Connor was concerned.

Their gazes met, his diamond hard and just as blue as she remembered, like the rippling, crystalline water in the north end pasture’s creek. Eyes she’d once thought of as kind. Eyes that had seduced her with the sweet promise or being desired and cherished.

It had all been a ruse.

Her finger tightened on the trigger. “Get off my property,” she said succinctly.

He lifted his hands to his hips, his stance deceptively loose. “Why, Josie darlin’, I think you’re making a mistake there.” He was all drawl and cowboy charm, but his smile held a hint of danger. “It’s my property.”

What in the world was he talking about? She looked closer, searching for signs that he’d become a drunk like his father had been. He looked totally lucid. “Your property ended miles ago. I suggest you haul your butt back to your horse and leave before I shoot you for trespassing.”

“Tsk, tsk,” he said with a cocky, challenging air tha caused a flicker of apprehension to crawl up her spine “That red hair of yours sure does match your temper.”

Hating his mockery and furious at his gall, she lifted the barrel of her rifle a foot and a half and pulled the trigger clearing the hat right off his head. He instinctively ducked but seconds after the fact, then slowly straightened, his mouth gaping in shock. She experienced a moment of satisfaction to see that he’d paled beneath that nice tan of his

His shock gave way to pure fury. It ignited in his gaze and seemed to coil within his body. With the hot July sunglinting off his dark brown hair, he looked like a dangerous outlaw. “Goddammit, woman,” he exploded. “You could have killed me!”

“Could have, but I didn’t want to kill you, just give you a final warning.” She chambered in another round and slowly lowered the barrel of the rifle to the zipper of his jeans. She smiled oh so sweetly. “Next time I won’t be so gracious.”

His blistering curses filled the air. With a low, enraged growl, he charged up the stairs, calling her bluff. Her heart leaped in her throat, and the first frisson of alarm ripped through her. She might have held the gun, but she’d never truly harm him, despite her threats. She only wanted him to leave.

He gained the porch and stopped, a feral smile curving his mouth. Then he started toward her, slow and predator-like. For every step he took forward, she went back, until her spine slammed against the side of the house and there was nowhere left to go.

He jerked the rifle from her grasp and tossed it aside. It hit the wooden floor with a loud crash and skittered to the opposite side of the porch. Refusing to cower like some helpless female, she abruptly came at him, fists flailing. Surprise registered in his eyes just as she clipped his jaw with a punch. He grunted in pain and in the next instant caught the left hook sailing his way. His fingers circled her wrist, brought her hand down and turned her around, tucking her body securely in front of his. He let go of her hand and wrapped both of his strong arms around her middle, holding her immobile.

They were both breathing hard from the fight. Josie struggled, but his muscular body and firm hold were no match for her. She felt trapped, weak and defenseless. And she hated that it was Seth O’Connor who provoked those vulnerable emotions.

He shifted his weight behind her, and she became all too aware of their intimate position...his broad chest pressing against her back and the way his pelvis tucked against her bottom.

She swallowed hard. She’d worn an old pair of cutoffs today, along with an equally old blouse she’d haphazardly knotted just beneath her unbound breasts to keep cool. Where his corded forearms were braced around her midsection, her bare skin burned. The rough material of his jeans scratched the back of her thighs and the bend of her knee.

His face moved beside hers, and she could feel his warm breath brush across her cheek and flutter the wispy auburn strands that had escaped the hair she’d pinned up earlier, could feel a light stubble graze her jaw. And for a fleeting moment, his hold seemed to loosen as if he was cradling her in his arms.

A warm, masculine scent surrounded her, like earth, leather and sun all combined into one. Her stomach fluttered and her breasts swelled and tightened. She gritted her teeth, hating herself for responding to him in any way but anger. He deserved nothing less than her contempt after the way he’d used her and deliberately broken her heart.

“Let me go,” she muttered furiously.

His mouth moved to her ear. “Not so brave without your rifle, now are you, darlin’?” he taunted.

She closed her eyes against the sudden rush of tears surging forward. “I hate you,” she whispered, voicing the words that had been locked inside her for eleven painful years.

“Yeah, well, Josie darlin’,” he said on a long, drawn-out sigh, “the feeling’s completely mutual.”

“Mom?”

The softly spoken word in a child’s quivering voice served to do what Josie’s demands could not. Seth immediately released her and straightened. Josie went to her daughter who had stopped in the doorway, her only thought to soothe her fears.

Josie smoothed Kellie’s curly auburn hair, so much like her own, away from her stricken face. “It’s okay, sweetie,” she said gently, knowing the lie was necessary.

Peeking around her mother, Kellie eyed the large man standing on the porch. “Who is he?”

Josie pulled in a deep breath. “His name is Seth O’Connor.”

Kellie frowned. “Is he one of those no-good O’Connor boys I’ve heard Grandpa talking about? Did you shoot him?”

Josie grimaced at her child’s guileless questions. Although the McAllisters and O’Connors weren’t on friendly terms by any stretch of the imagination, she’d raised her daughter to be nonjudgmental—and that included the McAllisters’ nemesis.

“He’s our neighbor, remember?” She’d explained as much when Kellie had first asked her who the O‘Connors were—and that’s all she’d told her daughter because that had been the only pleasant way to explain who Jay and Seth were. At the tender age of ten, Kellie didn’t need to be privy to just how bitter their relationship was or how far back the O’Connors had hated the McAllisters. “And no, I didn’t shoot him.”

Josie looked back at Seth, giving him a direct, pointed stare as if to suggest she was beginning to regret that decision. “Mr. O’Connor was just leaving.”

He crossed his arms over his chest, looking as formidable as a Brahman bull. “I’m not going anywhere until we talk.

She didn’t understand him, his insistence, or his crazy talk about the Golden M being his property. But whatever he had to say, she didn’t want it said in front of her daughter. Once again, she requested that Kellie go inside while she settled a few issues with Mr. O’Connor. Reluctantly, and with a few more assurances, the young girl obeyed.

Josie closed the door after her daughter as a precaution, then in a tone filled with feigned politeness, she said to Seth, “You may think you’re here to talk, but we have nothing to say to one another.”

His gaze flickered down the length of her, taking in her summertime attire with too obvious an interest. As if he was taking stock of her—tike a cowboy sizing up a potential breeding mare. When his eyes reached hers again, they were filled with heated resentment.

“Polite talk, no,” he agreed, his voice harsh. “But this is in regard to a business-related matter.”

“Business?” She shook her head at the absurdity of the notion. “I wouldn’t do business with an O’Connor if you were the last man on earth who could offer me sanctuary.”

A faint smile curved his mouth. “I might just very well be.”

Fed up with whatever game he was playing, she stared him down. “Get off my property.” She directed her finger toward his horse to emphasize her point. “Now!”

He didn’t budge, and there was enough smugness touching his features to make her uneasy. “Don’t be so hasty, darlin’.”

Her temper flared at his sweet talk. “Do I need to call the sheriff out to arrest you for trespassing, not to mention assault?”

“Assault?” His dark brows rose incredulously, right along with his voice. “You’re the one who damn near blew my head off!”

She lifted her chin a defiant notch and gave him a cool smile. “I was feeling...threatened.”

“Like hell you were!” He clamped his lips shut and glared. “If anybody is calling the sheriff, I am. I’ve got a deed that states the Golden M belongs to me.”

“You’re crazy!”

“I’m perfectly sane.” He rocked back on his booted heels, looking altogether too pleased with himself. “Has your father been around lately?”

The casual way he asked the question, and the insinuation behind his words, put her on the alert. Her father had been gone for two days, since that past Friday, though this wasn’t the first time Jake McAllister had taken off without warning. She’d grown used to her father’s drifting and the fact that he’d lost interest in the ranch years ago. She’d been handling the business end of the Golden M for almost eight years now, and with Mac as their longtime foreman running the day-to-day cattle operation, the ranch was still thriving. Nothing grand, but she was paying their bills and keeping a roof over their heads and food on the table.

So why was Seth so interested in her father...and why was he spouting this nonsense about a deed to the Golden M? It had to be nonsense, or a ploy of some sort.

She tried to keep calm and not let the panic within her claw its way to the surface. That would never do, because someone as unscrupulous as Seth would take advantage of her weakness.

“My father’s whereabouts are none of your business,” she snapped.

He walked toward where she was standing and circled her, so close his arm brushed her bottom. Deliberately? she wondered. She suppressed the urge to give him a sharp jab in the ribs with her elbow. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled her.

He stopped in front of her. “Did you know your father has a penchant for gambling?” His tone was casual, but there was nothing nonchalant about what he was suggesting.

Josie’s heart dropped to her stomach, and a peculiar sense of dread filled her. While Seth’s father had been notorious for drinking and being loud and obnoxious, her own father had gained a reputation for being an easy gambler. He loved poker, could sniff a game five miles away. There were many times he’d start the game of cards himself in some back room in a seedy bar. Sometimes he was lucky; most times he was not. Bottom line, he was addicted to the game, to the point where she feared he’d sink the ranch into bankruptcy. So far, she’d been successful in thwarting every attempt he’d made to take out a second loan on the ranch, knowing he’d use that money to finance his gambling habit.

She moved away from Seth to the white banister enclosing the porch. Unable to meet his disconcerting stare, she looked out at the fertile land stretching for miles in front of her. Land that had been in her family for three generations. Land that had once belonged to an O’Connor. “What does my father’s gambling have to do with any thing?”

She heard one of the pair of wicker chairs behind her creak as he settled his weight into it. “Your father gambled away the Golden M, and I won it.”

Josie’s world tilted, and she grabbed one of the columns for balance. She glanced over her shoulder at him, denial pumping up her adrenaline. He sat there in the white wicker chair, his long body stretched out, his legs crossed at his boots, looking entirely too arrogant.

She pressed a hand to her churning stomach. God, this had to be an awful dream, a nightmare she’d wake up from and laugh about. But Seth was flesh-and-blood real, his persistence too intense to be anything but genuine.

“Prove it,” she blurted, despising the desperation in her voice. But that’s exactly how she was feeling, grasping at straws in hopes of finding a discrepancy in his outrageous claim.

Withdrawing a square piece of paper from his shirt pocket, he unfolded it, then handed it toward her. “Here’s all the proof you’re gonna need.”

She stared at the proffered document for what seemed like an eternity, the words “Quitclaim Deed” swirling in front of her. With a trembling hand, she reached for the paper and forced herself to read the contents. She got as far as the statement transferring ownership of the property to Seth O’Connor before a wave of disbelief crashed through her.

“How can this be?” she asked, more to herself than him.

“It’s all very simple,” he said, his eyes dark and unfathomable. “Your father and I were at Joe’s pub Friday night and he challenged me to a game of poker in the back room.”

“And you took advantage of him?” she demanded to know.

Seth laughed, the sound deep and rich despite the tension between them. “I know you’d like to believe I did, but I wasn’t the only one in the game. There were five of us present, but I seemed to be the one with all the luck. Your father lost all the cash he had on him and resorted to writing IOUs. At one point, he owed me over ten grand, and Gary Rial four grand.”

Josie groaned, staggered at the debt her father had incurred. “What happened?” she asked, not sure she really wanted to know.

“It came down to my hand against his, and since he had another three grand of IOUs in the pot and was about to write another just to stay in the game, I struck a deal with him.”

Her loathing gaze narrowed on him. “What kind of deal did my father make with the devil himself?”

He lifted a dark brow at her derogatory comment. “I told him if he put in the deed to the Golden M and he won the pot, I’d forgive his IOU to me and I’d pay off Gary’s. The same would apply if he lost. Either way, he’d have no outstanding debts.”

“My, wasn’t that generous of you!” Her fingers curled tightly around the deed in her hand. A deed that made the very porch she stood on, the house and ranch she grew up on, his. The thought made her nauseous.

He sat up in the chair, his gaze holding hers steadily. “He didn’t have to put in the deed, Josie.”

“Doesn’t sound like he had much of a choice.”

Anger flashed in his eyes, hot and dangerous. “He made every choice on his own. I offered a deal, and he accepted it with a stipulation of his own that I agreed to. If he wasn’t prepared to lose, then he never should have challenged me to join the game in the first place.”

He was right, she knew. Her father’s weakness was no one’s fault but his own. Still, she wasn’t going to lose everything that mattered to her without a battle. “I’m going to do everything in my power to get this ranch back.”

Slowly, he stood, looking entirely too sexy for someone she despised. “You can certainly try, but that document is legal and binding. Considering the ranch wasn’t in your name, you won’t have much of a leg to stand on.”

Her chest grew so tight it hurt to breathe. Oh, Lord! She’d never thought to change the deed to include her name, never believed her father could be so desperate as to risk their home in a poker game. She was the last McAllister, and the ranch would have been hers one day, passed on from father to daughter.

She found it ironic that Jake McAllister had lost the property to an O’Connor the same way her great-grandfather McAllister had won it from Seth’s great-grandfather so long ago—in a poker game.

That had been the beginning of the McAllister and O’Connor feud. Judging by the animosity vibrating between the two of them, that dissension was still burning bright and strong. But there had been a brief time when she believed she and Seth would be the ones to end the conflicts that had trickled down through three generations. She’d been so hopeful that the strife between their families would finally be over.

She’d been young and naive, and so wrong about Seth O’Connor’s intentions...so easily duped by a heart-stopping grin and so effortlessly seduced by the taste of her first real kiss and the promise of true love.

She was older now and certainly wiser about how the O’Connors operated. She’d learned the hard way their motives were always self-serving. With that thought, she hardened her resolve. “You won’t get away with this, Seth,” she vowed, and thrust the offending document back at him.

“I already have.” Expression uncompromising, he took the deed from her. When his fingers brushed hers, she felt as though she’d been zapped by a bolt of lightning. The sizzle coursed up her arm, spread through her breasts and settled in the pit of her stomach like a warm pool of molasses.

She shook off the unwanted sensation and jutted her chin up a notch, refusing to be intimidated by his superior height or the intense heat blazing in the depths of his blue eyes. “If you expect me to pack up and leave without a fight, then you better think again.”

“On the contrary, darlin’,” he said, his smooth drawl at odds with the resentment she detected in his voice, “I fully expect you to stay.”

Wariness pulsed through her with every heartbeat, making her feel like a cornered deer staring down the barrel of a rifle—with no means of escape. Was he tricking her somehow? Letting her believe that he wasn’t going to take away the only home she and Kellie had ever had? “I...I don’t understand.”

“There’s a stipulation to the deed,” he said very carefully, as if he wanted her to understand what he was about to say. “A provision your father set and I agreed to before I won that last poker hand.”

So, he’d made his own sacrifice to gain what he wanted—the property that once belonged to his family. She was certain whatever price he paid wasn’t as great as her father’s loss or her own dismal future. “What kind of stipulation?”

His smile was grim. “That we get married.”