The Marriage Bargain. Susan Fox P.
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was the risk. We decided to marry because it’s worth taking a chance.” His stern mouth gentled and one corner turned up in a half smile. “And we came to take our chance in a city known for high-stakes gambling and quick marriages.”
Hallie looked away. Everything had seemed so simple hours ago. She’d been so hurt, so angry and torn up over the cruelty of Hank’s will that she hadn’t completely considered the full consequences of this rash act.
“If Hank lingers and it comes out,” he went on, “there are certain marriage traditions I want people to know we observed. Rings are one.”
“Everyone will know it wasn’t a traditional marriage,” she said quietly. “And it will be annulled right away.”
She’d have enough to live down over the annulment. She didn’t want to give anyone the impression that she’d had any sort of hope for a real future with Wes.
She shook her head. “The ring is too symbolic.” Again she started to take off the beautiful ring, but his hands again caught hers.
“Then don’t wear it at home,” he said sternly. “But you’ll wear it here. And the wedding band that goes with it.”
Hallie looked up at him, about to protest, but he cut her off.
“It’s getting late. If we’re going to do this, we’ve got to get it done. I made plans for ten o’clock, and it’s nine-thirty now.”
Her throat spasmed closed in alarm. They’d delayed long enough. The longer the delay, the more reservations she had about going through with it. In the end, it was the craving to inherit Four C’s that made her force away her growing misgivings and give a small, stiff nod.
“All right.”
As if those strangled words were the pistol shot that started a race, her heart burst into a panicked rhythm. Wes stood nearby while she got the hat and pinned it on with fingers that seemed abnormally clumsy. Then he whisked her out of the suite so quickly that he made her head spin.
Did Wes realize he was torturing her?
Hallie had trouble meeting the minister’s eyes. She was excruciatingly aware that Wes had not taken her to one of the many wedding chapels in Las Vegas; he’d taken her to a real church, with an ordained minister.
The church was large and a sacred atmosphere permeated every inch of it, including the small prayer chapel they were standing in. This was no secular ceremony before a justice of the peace or one in a commercial chapel where a lineup of brides and grooms waited to be married. This was a real church, and there was no way to ignore the fact that they were pledging vows before God.
She hadn’t voiced her objections to Wes. She’d been uneasy when they’d arrived at the church, but as they followed the minister who’d met them at door and led them to the chapel, her unease had increased with each step.
Now the minister had started the ceremony and the significance of what they were doing pressed down on her. Marriage vows were supposed to be a solemn pledge of love and marital commitment, which were as much a vow to God as to each other. She was secretly marrying to secure an inheritance for what amounted to financial gain, and the guilt of that made every word the minister said weigh a thousand pounds.
“And do you, Halona Corbett, take Wes Lansing as your lawfully wedded husband, to love him and care for him, in sickness and in health, as long as you both shall live?”
Her throat closed and she couldn’t speak. The silence stretched. The minister waited patiently, his kind eyes regarding her with a gentleness that somehow pierced her guilt and sent a tiny trickle of peace into her heart.
Something hopeful began to make itself felt. It was then that she realized what that hope was: she hoped Wes would find something about her he could love.
For a woman who’d known little love and, until that moment, had no real expectations to find it, she was astonished to realize how deep the craving to love and be loved went. Surely she wasn’t foolish enough to open her heart to the possibility of love with a stranger when her own family had found it impossible to love her?
When she finally got out the words, “I do,” she realized with secret horror that she wanted to make true every word she’d just pledged, that somehow her heart had staked its survival on the impossible hope that Wes might someday want to honor his vows to her.
Suddenly she was trembling and she felt faint. She couldn’t keep from looking up at Wes as the minister read his part of the vows. Wes’s dark eyes were somber as he stared down into hers. His voice was a quiet rasp as he said, “I do.”
Their gazes clung. The utter seriousness of the vows seemed to have affected them both. Hallie couldn’t break contact with his gaze. Her heart beat so swiftly and so hard that she felt it bruise her chest.
The minister’s voice was pleasant and cheerful. “I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride, Mr. Lansing.”
Hallie heard the words then stared in disbelief as Wes leaned closer and his dark head descended. He was going to kiss her! She was too shocked and too mesmerized by the idea to move.
His lips were firm and warm as they settled on hers. She started to jerk back from the contact, but suddenly his hand slipped behind her neck and she couldn’t retreat. Panic made her go rigid, but in that next heartbeat of time, the lightning bolt of feeling that went through her turned her bones to mush and her eyes fell shut. If his other hand hadn’t slipped around her waist to hold her up, her knees would have given out.
When he withdrew, she opened dazed eyes to see the dark fire in his. Male knowledge blazed arrogantly in their depths, and she knew without a doubt that with one brief kiss, he could tell that not only had she never known a hint of sexual intimacy, she’d also never been kissed. But then she caught a glint of suspicion, as if he suddenly mistrusted her.
It was all she could do to wait for the minister’s final blessing and they signed the wedding license. The two female employees from the church office who’d witnessed the ceremony hugged her.
By the time they walked out of the church and down the front steps to a waiting cab, Hallie was queasy and her head was starting to pound.
They ate supper in a quiet restaurant and barely spoke to each other. The mood between them was somber. Hallie was certain she wouldn’t be able to eat, but once she had a bite of the tender steak Wes ordered for her, her appetite came back with a vengeance. The meal helped soothe her nerves and her headache vanished. They were leaning back with the wine that he’d insisted they have when Wes spoke.
“I should have called for room service when we first got to the hotel. I didn’t mean to make you wait so late to eat.”
Hallie looked over at him. The apology warmed her and made her feel as if he cared for her at least a little. But it was dangerous to think that way.
His gaze dropped to her lips and the flash of intensity in his dark eyes reminded her of the kiss in the chapel. Longing gripped her and she glanced down at her wineglass to hide it.
Would she ever have a chance to feel the expert pressure of his lips on hers again, to feel that heat, to be caught in the wild, sweet storm of feeling that had gone through her?
Something wounded in her warned that she’d had her taste, that she was only allotted one; but the part of her that was unbearably lonely and lost craved another chance and refused to stop hoping.
To her utter humiliation, her thoughts must have shown, because Wes remarked, “I didn’t intend for the ceremony to seem so…binding. But the other kind didn’t seem right.”
There it was. The admission that the church ceremony had given an impression he hadn’t intended. The foolish little hope that had made itself felt in the chapel died a swift death. She quickly finished her wine and made herself look over at him.
“Would you…mind?” She pushed the wineglass toward him and he obliged her by refilling it. She had another glass before they