An Arranged Marriage. Susan Fox P.

the two mismatched chairs. He automatically repositioned the other chair opposite hers to straddle it and sit down before he realized she hadn’t moved.

      As if he were a schoolboy who realized he’d forgotten his manners, Blue abruptly stood up and waved a hand toward the sheeted chair. “Go ahead and sit down, Miz Allison. The sheet’s new. Your dress will be fine.”

      Allison moved toward the chair and sat down stiffly, though her face was hot. She hadn’t hesitated because she was afraid of getting her dress dirty. “I don’t worry about my clothing as much as you might imagine, Mr. Sumner. I was waiting for you to invite me to sit.”

      Blue slowly eased back down and rested his muscular forearms across the chair back. He gave her a level look and said in a rough voice, “I reckon I don’t need to tell you that I’m full of bad manners. Might be a while before I’m ready for polite society.”

      Allison stared at him, caught off guard by his directness. She felt herself soften toward him and found herself saying, “Good manners are really nothing more than making the other person feel comfortable.”

      “Then my manners must be especially bad,” he said, his voice going lower and more raspy, “because you don’t look too comfortable.”

      Allison glanced down at her clasped hands, a bit amazed to feel that her palms were damp. “It’s the situation that makes me uncomfortable, Mr. Sum—”

      “Blue.”

      The curt correction made her lift her eyes and look at him.

      “The way you say Mr. Sumner makes me feel like I’m half a state away from you.”

      Allison’s laced fingers flexed and her hands were gripping each other almost painfully. Wanting to ignore his remark about the distance she almost wished they had, she changed the subject. “I’ve come to ask you a few questions. Rather delicate ones.”

      Blue looked at her somberly. “Good. I don’t want to worry about a question bein’ delicate or not. We’ve got things to talk about and I’d rather you say what you mean.”

      Allison nodded, then got to the point. “My uncle seems to believe he’s trading a niece for a multimillion-dollar bank account. He believes that once you’re in the family, you’ll allow him to advise you on financial matters.”

      Blue watched her calmly. “What I decide to do about your uncle and his bank is separate from you.”

      Allison tried to read his unsmiling expression. He’d worded his reply oddly and she wasn’t certain how to take it. His face gave nothing away that would clarify his remark. Allison continued.

      “Arranged marriages are usually about money. I feel as if—” she managed to get a breath “—as if I’m being bought.”

      “I need a wife,” he said with that same unruffled calm. “I’m particular about the woman I want.”

      “But there are lots of women in Texas, Mr.—Blue. There must be hundreds of women around, even for a man who’s particular about the woman he wants.”

      His unsmiling expression cracked a bit and one corner of his mouth quirked downward. “I reckon by now just about every available female in Texas has thrown herself into my path. Money seems to make ’em bold.”

      “So you think they only want you for your money? How are they different from…me?”

      “Because you’re the one I want.” The low drawl wrapped around her. She sensed the intensity behind the burning look he was giving her and felt her heart flutter as his masculinity overwhelmed her.

      In that moment she glimpsed his utter determination to marry her, by whatever means. He wasn’t touching her, he didn’t even try, but she felt his possession as surely as if he’d swept her into his arms.

      Some bit of self-preservation—and selfishness—prompted her to tell him, “This isn’t the marriage I’d hoped to have.”

      “It’s the one I want.”

      The simple statement should have made her angry. After all, it was a blunt reminder of their inequality—of the fact that they weren’t equals, that he had all the money and all the choices. And that she had none.

      But Allison sensed another meaning behind the words. A man from Blue’s background, who didn’t believe in love, might not want to get a wife any other way. And, she realized, a man with social limitations might not know how.

      The perception kept her from taking offense.

      “Do you have a date in mind for the wedding?”

      The date he named was only a bit more than a month away. Allison couldn’t help the panic she felt.

      “Th-then you prefer we see a justice of the peace?”

      Blue shook his head. “I want it big, in your church, with your preacher, and grand enough that it makes the big city papers. If your uncle can’t spring for everything, send the bills to me.”

      Allison couldn’t conceal her reluctance to have the huge, very public wedding he wanted. “A wedding like that could cost a lot of money.”

      “How much?” His bluntness continued to take her aback.

      “Why, a wedding such as the one you describe could cost upwards of twenty thousand dollars.”

      “I’m good for it.”

      She glanced away, not able to withstand the directness of his gaze. Or the embarrassment she felt at his offer to pay for an expensive wedding. She determined then that if it took every penny of her trust fund, she’d pay for her own wedding.

      “That won’t be necessary, Mr. S—”

      “Blue.” The soft drawl carried a faint demand that brought her gaze back to his. “A wife oughtta call her husband by his first name.”

      “Then you really want to go through with this.” It was a statement she made so she couldn’t possibly mistake things—or keep a reserve of hope.

      That seemed to be the signal for him to stand. He straightened to his full height and swung his chair out of the way. With his blue gaze fixed purposely on hers, he stepped nearer and reached for her hand to pull her to her feet.

      Flustered and excited by the strong, yet gentle grip of his callused fingers around hers, she couldn’t break contact with the fiery gleam in his gaze.

      “Just so there’s no mistake about what I want. And to help you remember there’s no point in calling me Mr. Sumner…”

      He caught her against him, lifting her slightly off the floor as his lips descended to hers. The kiss was only marginally gentle. Shock jolted her, and the involuntary gasp of air she took gave him the sudden access he needed to deepen the kiss. The blatant carnality of his mouth stole her breath and made her head spin.

      The feel of his hard body was a new shock, and though she wasn’t vastly experienced with men, even she knew he was aroused. His heat enveloped her while the forceful, yet expert invasion of her mouth turned her insides to a hot pulsing mass.

      When he finally broke off the kiss, she was incapable of standing. She was only dazedly aware that she was clinging to him, and that even when his arms loosened around her, she was plastered against him.

      “I reckon sex won’t be something we have to put off till we know each other better,” he remarked, his voice a husky rasp.

      His words penetrated the sensual haze that fogged her brain, and she made a weak effort to shake her head. My God, she hardly knew the man!

      As if he’d sensed her objection, his lips touched hers again. This time, his kiss was so tender, so wickedly persuasive, that she was incapable of thought. Years of well-bred reserve fell away, and she slid the manicured fingers of one hand into his thick dark hair and made a fist to hang on.

      She’d been