The Rustler's Bride by Tatiana March Read Free Book Online Page B

enjoy the privilege of taking care of me.”
    A shadow fell over his features. “Victoria…”
    “Victoria?” she mimicked, the sting of his unexpected rejection making her tongue sharp and her temper edgy. “What is it now? More marital advice?”
    Declan seemed to stop breathing, he went so still. His expression grew shuttered. His mouth set in a hard line. “Go back into the house,” he said brusquely.
    “You can’t order me about.”
    “I can, and I will.” He stepped up to her, placed his hands on her shoulders and spun her around to face the doorway of the barn, where a square of sunlight flooded inside. She could feel the powerful contours of his body behind her as he leaned down to speak into her ear.
    “Aren’t you forgetting something, Victoria?” he asked.
    “What?” she muttered, the flash of anger already fading.
    “It’s too late for you not to marry anyone at all . You already married me . And that means I can order you about. I believe there was a little something about obedience in the promises you made in front of the preacher.”
    She let out an angry huff. Then it escalated into a cry of indignation, as Declan lifted his hands from her shoulders with a tiny shove, slapped her on the rump, and said, “Go back inside. Now.”
    She scuttled off. At the barn door, she turned around. “Remember,” she said, and there was a deceptive sweetness in her voice. “You promised that if I obeyed, you’d cherish. Fine. I’ll obey. I’m going inside. And that means I’ll be expecting some cherishing.”
    Hah. You find a reply to that , Victoria thought as she set off striding across the yard, squinting in the bright sunlight. Perspiration itched beneath her clothing. She fought an unladylike urge to scratch. Her brows came together in a frown as her brain shifted through the flurry of emotions battling inside her.
    It all seemed so clear now.
    She’d been at pains to decide between the Boston banker, and the shipping magnate, and the English earl, and the senator, and God knows who else, and that was because she didn’t want to marry any of those men. She felt no love for them, but that was beside the point. The point was that they would all take her away from Red Rock Ranch. Away from the Arizona Territory, to the cultured East, where she would be expected to spend the rest of her life crammed into corsets, making feminine small talk, riding side saddle, and eating with silver knives and forks in hushed, quiet dining rooms… The list of horrors was endless.
    No. She wanted something different.
    She wanted the desert sun and the flash floods and the snakes and scorpions and Gila monsters. She wanted the uncouth cowboys and the mewling cattle, and the lawmen and the outlaws with guns riding at their hip. She wanted the untamed frontier that had been her home for as long as she could remember.
    She wanted Red Rock Ranch.
    She wanted never to leave home again.
    And that meant she needed to marry a man capable of operating a cattle business. Running a ranch couldn’t be so terribly different from trading in stolen cattle. You just owned the livestock, and had to spend a bit more time looking after the animals, but to compensate, you didn’t need to waste your time running from the law, or worrying about being strung up at the end of a rope.
    Simple.
    So very, very simple.
    Declan had told her that honor kept him from claiming her as his wife, but it was as clear that he was struggling to hold on to his resolve. There had been no mistaking the male hunger that had rubbed and strained against her belly while they kissed.
    Persuading him would be the easy part. The main hurdle was to get her father to accept Declan as the man who would take over the ranch after him. Her father’s will was legendary for its unbending quality. There was only one way he’d ever accept the marriage.
    If he had no other choice.
    Fait accompli , as the French said.
    A deed that was done and could not be undone.
    There