The Marriage Command. Susan Fox P.
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understand. But interest? She had to be misreading him. He was probably furious, though his stony expression made it difficult to detect anything more certain than harshness.
“Then you need to know that I just made it my business, Miss Ryan,” he said gruffly, emphasizing the formal use of her name the same way she’d emphasized the formal use of his by addressing him as Mr. Pierce.
“I want to know if you’re capable of being a wife. The boy ought to have more than one parent at a time. Are you capable of being as good a wife as you are a good mother?”
Claire gave her head a small, dazed shake. “I suppose.”
“A traditional wife who stays home? One who can run a house, entertain guests, arrange her husband’s social life? Spend his money, have good sex, raise his kids?”
He paused, making Claire realize her face probably showed her utter shock. The little shocks he’d dealt her so far that day were nothing compared to this, and suddenly she knew he was on the verge of presenting her with the biggest shock yet.
Claire felt the room tip a little and her head began to swim. She had to be misunderstanding this whole bizarre conversation, had to be, so she made a try at another interpretation.
“Are you saying that if I found a husband and was a stay-at-home wife and mother, that you might consider allowing me to raise Cody? If that’s the case, then yes, I’m more than capable of being a good wife the moment I find a suitable husband.”
Claire realized she was shaking all over suddenly as the roaring in her ears got a little louder. But as loud as that roaring was, it was amazing how clearly she heard what he said next. Though his voice was still a low, gravelly drawl that was almost a growl, it was as loud in her ears and in her brain as if he’d yelled out the words.
“I meant, be a good wife to me, Miss Ryan. Marry me. Agree to all the things I mentioned, and I’ll allow you to adopt the boy when I adopt him. Otherwise, I’ll let you stay here through the weekend, but Monday morning you’ll have to leave. The boy and I will have to work things out between us without your help.”
I meant, be a good wife to me, Miss Ryan…
The room began to spin as those words and those next ones, Marry me, began to go round and round in her brain. But then the other things he’d listed before began to rush in a chaotic circle around those.
Run a house, entertain guests, arrange her husband’s social life, spend his money, raise his kids…
They weren’t bad words, they weren’t unpleasant words. In fact, they conjured up the kind of homey, satisfying scenes she’d always longed to see fulfilled when she found the right man and got married.
But then that other little item he’d specified, good sex, began to race around with all the others, somehow sparkling and tumbling and very quickly dominating all the other images his list had called up.
Claire tried to focus on the big man, the supremely harsh and powerful looking big man, who sat across from her and had just cold-bloodedly proposed a loveless marriage to a woman he didn’t know outside of a private investigator’s report. A man who, judging by the unremitting harshness on his stony face, still didn’t seem to even like her.
As stunned and overwhelmed as she was, it was the heartless declaration of blackmail that touched off a conflagration of outrage.
Otherwise, I’ll let you stay here through the weekend, but Monday morning you’ll have to leave. The boy and I will have to work things out between us without your help.
Claire was on her feet without making a conscious decision to stand. It was a poor choice because her legs felt like spaghetti, though sheer temper might carry her through a ten-mile marathon.
“Please indulge me, Mr. Pierce,” she began with strained softness, and it was hard not to grit her teeth as she said the words. “Did you say that if I don’t agree to marry you, that I’ll never see the boy again after Monday?”
He tipped his head back slightly to keep eye contact with her. He looked relaxed, damn him. And she suddenly caught a hint of enjoyment that nettled her even more because there was something indulgent in it. As if he liked women with prickly tempers because he found them entertaining, though he wouldn’t for a moment take those tempers seriously. Which was male arrogance at its most aggravating.
“I won’t hire you to nanny the boy because it wouldn’t set right for him to have a nanny he calls momma,” he said. “I don’t care to sort through the women I know to find one who’ll be as much a mother to him as she will be to kids of her own.”
Then he delivered a rapid-fire list that stoked her outrage higher with each item.
“I like your potential. Dress you up a little, get a little glamour on you, and I’ll be satisfied with the package. If you’re as good a wife as you are a mother, I’ll be satisfied with that, too, and you can adopt the boy.”
Claire was so infuriated by that list, especially his “get a little glamour on you” remark, that she could barely keep the red haze out of her vision.
“And if you’re not satisfied with ‘the package’?” Oh how she loathed those words!
“You aren’t the kind of woman who takes something on if you can’t commit yourself to it. And once you’re committed, you follow through, whether you made a good bargain or not. Farrah is just one example.”
The harshness on his face had eased into a look of self-satisfaction. He had her pegged, and he had no compunction against letting her know he had. And he held the one thing she wanted with all her heart, so he was confident she’d knuckle under to everything he’d listed.
But if she could find some way to tolerate this arrogant manipulator and bring herself to marry him, she’d become Cody’s legal mother. The courts could then be compelled to grant her equal standing in custody issues, should she and Logan divorce.
Claire knew instantly that if she submitted to such heartless blackmail and actually married this—this creature—that there would be a divorce on the horizon. As soon after she became Cody’s legal mother as was humanly possible.
That was the commitment she’d be making if she agreed to marry Logan Pierce.
But oh, oh how she’d love to punch that arrogant look off his face! Claire had never had violent feelings before today, she’d never lifted her hand to hurt anyone in her life. But she’d never felt so wildly angry and trapped and frustrated as this man had made her feel when she’d officially lost Cody to him. That had brought her close enough to hating him.
But her anger now and this trapped and frustrated feeling was suddenly so intensely personal that she was bubbling inside. And she was scared out of her mind over the idea of having to submit to anything even remotely sexual with him. She doubted she could even stand to hold his hand, much less kiss him. Never mind the rest.
Good sex, he’d said. At the moment, she couldn’t associate either the word “good” or the word “sex” with Logan Pierce.
Though she was compelled to ask what she did next, Claire knew right away that Logan could tell she wasn’t serious about the question, that it was merely a delay. She couldn’t associate the word “love” with Logan Pierce any more easily than the words “good” or “sex.”
“What about love? You’ve said nothing about love.”
Or respect, but she reckoned that asking him about respect was laughable at this point. Respect for her was something she’d force him to learn one way or another, whether he wanted to master that particular lesson or not.
It was remarkable how quickly his arrogant, self-satisfied look stiffened and went harsh again.
“I don’t put stock in love, Miss Ryan. It’s not important.”
Claire nodded, not surprised. “You don’t have any to give, either, is that what you’re saying?”
She