apprehensive about being alone with Blue, in many ways it was a blessing. No one would be around to witness the scene if he’d changed his mind about giving her another chance.
And, if she was truly going to marry him, she’d be alone with him often. She might as well begin to adjust to him now, however much the notion panicked her.
The large double doors were closed, their oval etched glass panels providing a framed view of the huge empty entry hall beyond. Allison walked up to the door, then caught sight of the doorbell on the right and put out a hand to press the button. She listened nervously to the chimes as they sounded a series of deep-pitched tones.
Blue had watched Allison approach the house from the shelf-lined front room of the mansion, which would eventually be the den. He’d glimpsed the apprehension on her lovely face when she’d stepped out of her car. He’d seen the resolute squaring of her narrow shoulders as she’d started up the walk, then the determined concealment of her feelings when she’d blanked her expression.
His pride hadn’t suffered at all when she’d refused to marry him the other day, but it was taking a beating now. Charles Wallace’s spineless groveling on the phone had turned his stomach, but the sense he had that Wallace had bullied Ms. Allison into changing her mind shamed him a little.
Though Blue had never wanted her to have any real choice about marrying him, the actual follow-through of his plan to get her made him feel as if he’d abused her somehow. Demeaned wasn’t a word in his normal vocabulary, but he felt like maybe he’d managed to demean them both. Particularly since she’d seemed to set a lot of store by love, an emotion that by habit and necessity, he’d learned to ignore.
But he hadn’t worked his way up from the poverty and homelessness of his childhood by being soft or by veering from the goals he’d set for himself. Marrying Allison Lancaster was just the next goal on his list. If he thought of her in those terms, what he had to do to get her troubled him less.
He turned away as she put out a hand to ring the doorbell. He strode from the den into the entry hall and then to the front door. The big chimes were echoing away when he opened it.
Allison’s soft, “May I come in?” was a bit breathless. Blue wasn’t wearing his black Stetson, but he seemed a giant somehow. His handsome face was stern, though she detected a faint wariness in the blue of his eyes.
He didn’t answer verbally, but opened the big door to allow her to enter. She took four or five steps across the marble floor before she came to an uncertain halt and turned toward him.
He’d closed the door and stood staring over at her. Nothing in his expression gave her a clue to his thoughts until he said, “I put an old desk and a couple of chairs in the front room there—the den.” The gesture he made signaled her to precede him. Allison walked toward the open door and stepped through. Blue entered behind her and pushed the door not quite shut.
“The furniture is old and ugly, but it’ll do until the house is done and I can get to Dallas to buy something better.”
His offhand remark about the old desk and the paint-spattered chairs seemed a sensible one to make, but something in his voice suggested he was somehow ashamed of it. A swift glance at his hard expression made her think she’d imagined the impression.
He reached for the folded white sheet that rested on a corner of the desk. He picked up the sheet and gave it a flick that unfolded it before he draped it over the better of 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
