Her Forbidden Bridegroom

CHAPTER TWO

AT THE sight of Lorna Farrell standing so primly at the open door, Mitch stifled the same private shock he’d felt when she’d walked into John Owen’s office with Kendra.

Lorna Farrell was slim and petite. Her dark head of glossy, shoulder-length hair curved under, her eyes were large and deeply blue, and her facial features were fine and delicate enough for a Renaissance portrait. The resemblance between her and Kendra was unmistakable.

Five years had smoothed out her features and turned her into a beauty. She had polish now, class, and the poise of a queen. But what she had by the bucketful was a resemblance to Kendra she’d not had five years before. No doubt it was now that stronger resemblance that had made her think she could engineer another try at Doris.

Mitch might even have given her some leeway had she simply tried to contact Doris again. His stepmother had finally confided that she’d given up a child for adoption years ago, but she’d denied the possibility that Lorna Farrell could be that child. A simple blood test might have thwarted Miss Farrell a second time. Surely she knew how easily she could be proved a liar if someone called her bluff.

But instead of inflicting herself directly on Doris, she’d managed to wedge herself into Kendra’s life. That alone undermined her in his eyes. In the past few hours, he’d found out that Lorna had worked for John Owen long before Kendra had become engaged to him, but she’d had no business befriending Kendra, no business at all crossing the line as far as she had.

Kendra was a sweet, naïve child-woman. Strong-willed, a little spoiled, but blinded by the optimism and generosity of youth. She hadn’t yet learned that the world was full of liars and opportunists. She hadn’t been bitten by the bitter truth that jealous people would do their damnedest to knock her down for having money or that the greedy ones would play her for a fool to get a piece of it.

Lorna Farrell’s slick intrusion into Kendra’s confidence marked her as the second kind. And though Mitch had long thought his stepsister needed to wise up to the ways of the world, he was determined that Lorna Farrell wouldn’t be the one to educate her.

Lorna didn’t speak and neither did he as he strode through the open door into her apartment.

Lorna had done much better for herself these past five years than the cramped one-room apartment she’d had back then. These rooms were painted bright white, and the furniture was tasteful blend of nice pieces, though probably second hand. She liked color and she liked interesting little accents, like the whimsical caricature of a gangly palomino pony with inch-long eyelashes that stood almost a foot tall on the floor in front of an antique bookcase lined with hardcover and paperback books.

The dove gray sofa was plush and artfully scattered with old-fashioned needlework pillows. There were a few inexpensive but tasteful paintings on the walls and she had a fondness for dark tables with delicate legs. The dining room had a bowl of vivid silk flowers in the middle of the table, and every surface throughout the two rooms he could see were polished to a deep luster.

Everything was neat and orderly without a single thing out of place. Was this the rigid care of a woman who’d only recently come up in the world and appreciated that enough to take religious care of everything? Or was she an opportunist who liked to have nice things and by such diligent care demonstrated not only a lust for material possessions but a hunger for more and even better?

Because he was so suspicious of her, he discounted the idea that she kept her things so neat and orderly because it was an admirable habit.

He didn’t bother to take off his Stetson. Though it was polite to do so and expected indoors, he didn’t intend to pay her the compliment. He heard the tremor in her voice and sent her a surly glance.

“Would you like to sit down, Mr. Ellery? Can I get you something? Coffee? A s-soda?”

He watched color flash across her cheekbones at the small stutter and took note of the way she gripped her slim fingers together. He detected the tremor she clearly tried to suppress in the faint vibration of her shoulders beneath her suit jacket.

“I didn’t come to be sociable, Miz Farrell. Your pretty manners are wasted on me.”

Now he saw the color vanish from her cheekbones, confirming the notion that she was as completely intimidated by him as she’d been five years ago, and thus would be easy to manage.

He lifted his hand to his chest, frowned at the small start she gave at the movement, then slipped his fingers into his suit pocket to remove the check. He held it out so she could see the amount.

Her deeply blue eyes dropped automatically to the digits. There was a spark of something then. Surprise? Or was it a flash of pain?

“Give Owens two weeks notice, then quit,” he told her brusquely. “This should hold you over until you can find another job. If you leave San Antonio to take a job, I’ll give you double that amount. Every year up to five years, I’ll leave a matching check for that double amount in an account with my attorney. Every year up to five years that you stay out of San Antonio and have no contact with Kendra, the attorney will transfer that yearly amount into whatever out of town bank account you choose.”

Mitch paused because she appeared to sway. He hardened his heart to that show of shock because it was more likely shock that he’d given her what she’d wanted so easily. And from the amount on the check, she could surely see that multiples of that kind of money, if carefully handled, would soothe the sharper edges of her lust for riches for a long time to come. He went on.

“After five years, the money deal expires. By then there’ll be a record of every transaction. If you approach Kendra again, we’ll have a money trail to take you to court for extortion.”

“How dare you?”

The words were choked and Lorna’s stormy gaze came up to his. She’d stood stiffly before, but now she looked so rigid that movement might make her bones crackle.

Mitch lowered the check and tossed it dismissively to a lamp table.

“How dare you, Miz Farrell? Trading on the resemblance you didn’t have five years ago to worm your way into an innocent kid’s life. You aren’t Doris Ellery’s long-lost anything. If you say one word to Kendra, we’ll press charges, petition the courts for a blood test, and when it comes up a no-match, you’ll have an arrest record and very likely a conviction.”

He paused to let that sink in. Her face had gone bright red now and she was shaking. He kept his low voice harsh.

“Choose a happy life, Miz Farrell. Take the money and leave town. You’re beautiful, you’re obviously clever, and you’ve got taste. Find some rich old boy and hold out for a ring and a date.”

“Get out.” Her voice trembled as hard as she did now.

“I meant every word, darlin’. Every single word. And you’re bright enough to know I can make it happen.”

“Get out.”

Lorna gave the two words separate emphasis. No matter how foolish she’d been, no matter how long she’d let the situation with Kendra go on, she wouldn’t tolerate this. So much for Mitch Ellery’s propriety and sense of fair play. He was trying to bully her into a setup. She was so outraged over it that she felt faint. Dark dots were swimming in her vision and her eyes felt on fire. Her whole body felt scorched.

And still he made no move to leave, just stood there like a column of granite. The hostility that radiated from him in waves was so intimidating that it magnified her hurt and the fury she felt.

She almost wished he had roughed her up. Anything, even that, would have been better than the brutal sting of his insult, not to mention the sheer menace of a man so much larger and stronger than she. The top of her head barely came to his shoulders. If he’d roughed her up, she could have dialed 911.

But she was helpless against this. She had no doubt that he had the will and the means to frame her for extorting money from him, though she’d die before she took a single cent from anyone.

Mitch Ellery was a bully, but suddenly none of it mattered. None of it mattered because the emotions of these past few months, the old hurts and traumas that had been stirred up and the horror of this confrontation, seemed to have short-circuited her body.

The two-bite breakfast she’d caught on the run, the lunch she’d forgotten, the uneaten apple she’d carried home from the office, suddenly conspired with all the rest and she felt an odd lethargy as the dots swam faster and multiplied.

Panicked, she tried to reach the nearest chair. She’d no more than taken a wobbly step and sensed Mitch Ellery’s sudden move when the world went black.

Mitch had hesitated to reach for Lorna because he thought she was faking a faint. And then he’d caught her a second too late because she’d wilted so fast and gone so boneless that even catching her arm hadn’t prevented her temple from grazing the corner of the coffee table.

He’d gathered her up and placed her on the sofa, but her small body was so rag-doll limp that it was amazingly hard to manage, though she weighed almost nothing.

A pink welt marked her right temple and already the skin beneath it was staring to swell. Shock jolted him. She hadn’t flinched when she’d hit, and as he tested the delicate skin next to the swelling, not even a hint of reaction showed in her lashes.

Hell. She hadn’t hit the table hard enough to be knocked out, so the lady had well and truly fainted. An alien feeling of guilt punched him in the gut. Remorse made him pick up one of her limp hands and chafe it between his palms.

“Miz Farrell,” he growled. “One of us is gonna be damned upset if you don’t come around quick.”

Mitch gritted his teeth for admitting that much. He patted the back of her still hand and when that got him nothing, he lightly tapped her pale cheek. Her glorious black lashes lay closed and motionless, and he felt another arrow of concern.

Gently laying her hand on her small waist, he rose to find the bathroom. Once there, he grabbed an artfully folded washcloth from a white basket on the counter and wet it beneath a jet of cold water in the sink.

Squeezing the excess water from it, he stalked back to the living room. Now her lashes spasmed and he sat down by her hip on the edge of the sofa cushion. He touched the cool, damp cloth to her cheek and was rewarded when she weakly turned her head to escape the sensation.

Mitch lifted the cloth to gently press it against her other cheek before he realized he’d picked up her hand again. Her fingers tightened on his, but her grip was weak.

His own low words, “Come on, darlin’, come on back,” startled him.

Perhaps it was the remorse he felt, perhaps it was the simple compassion he had for any injured creature that accounted for the uncommon tenderness he felt suddenly. Or perhaps it was Lorna’s sharp resemblance to his stepsister. Whatever the reason, feeling tender toward Lorna Farrell was not quite the anathema it should have been.

And when she made a soft sound of protest and brought up her other small hand to ward him off, he felt like a brute.

Mitch allowed her to brace her hand against his chest while he pressed the cool cloth softly against the welt. She winced at the pressure and sucked in a breath, then struggled to move her head away.

“Lay still.”

His tone was harsher than he’d meant, and he was privately horrified when he saw wetness spring onto her lashes. He forced his voice to soften so much it was almost a rasp.

“Let me take care of this, darlin’.”

The fact that he’d repeated the endearment in a sincere way was a fresh shock. But she responded to it by going still. Her wet lashes opened and those blue, blue eyes focused mistrustfully on his face. He could see her fear and she lay completely still, as if she was afraid to move.

The guilt that made him feel was sharp and uncomfortable, and his gaze shied briefly from her wary study before he brought it back to say something that would let her know he meant her no harm.

“Looks like I scared you into a faint. You hit the coffee table before I could catch you.”

Confusion darkened the blue of her pretty eyes, but mistrust lingered in the mix. His pride was choking him, but he added a quiet, “I apologize.”

Mitch couldn’t maintain eye contact with her, so he lifted the cloth and inspected the small welt. “I’ll get you some ice for that.”

Her soft, “No,” made him pause and he looked down at her. “You have to leave.”

Despite her fear, she was rallying. Her refusal nettled his sense of responsibility. “Not till I’m sure you’re okay.”

She came right back with, “I don’t need your help.”

“How do you know that? Do you keel over in a faint so often it’s a routine?”

“I never faint.”

He gave a short bark of laughter and she jerked as if startled. Her eyes darkened again with wariness. Mitch ignored her reaction and leaned closer for emphasis.

“Well you just fainted, Miz Farrell. Write it in your diary.”

She seemed to fumble a moment for an answer to that. “I ha-haven’t eaten today.”

That nettled him again. “You out of money till payday?”

Color surged into her cheeks. “I have plenty of money. I was too busy to be hungry.”

Lorna wouldn’t confess to him that the months of worry about her increasing contact with Kendra had affected her appetite.

Mitch came to his feet and loomed over her. “I’ll put some ice in this cloth, then I’ll see what you’ve got to eat around this place.”

He strode away and she sat up in alarm. She cautiously touched her temple, but felt only a faint bit of pain. Sitting up had made her dizzy, but she turned to put her feet on the floor, determined to intercept Mitch and force him to leave.

And why wouldn’t he just leave? His orders and threats had been traumatic enough, but now she couldn’t get rid of him. And his concern confused her. He’d spoken to her earlier as if she was dirt under his feet, so his concern now was not only a shock, it was deeply suspicious.

Pride wouldn’t permit her to allow someone who hated her and had just tried to lure her into an extortion charge to do kind things for her.

She reached for the check then got up and walked unsteadily to the kitchen. Once she got there, she stopped in the doorway while she waited for her legs to strengthen.

Mitch Ellery was a dark giant in her pristine kitchen. As in the living room, his larger-than-life presence dwarfed everything around him. He’d already loaded the washcloth with ice cubes, but he now had her refrigerator open and was peering inside.

Since she hadn’t yet gone grocery shopping as she normally did on Friday nights, the refrigerator was humiliatingly bare. He glanced her way, his face a thundercloud of disapproval.

“No wonder you aren’t eating. You’ve got little more than condiments and a half quart of milk that went out-of-date two days ago.”

Lorna crossed the room and plucked the cloth-wrapped ice cubes out of his huge hand to toss them into the sink before she gingerly tucked the check back in his pocket. When she boldly reached between him and the refrigerator to catch the top of the door and crowd him out of the way so she could close it, he caught her hand.

Her wide gaze flew up to his. She gave her hand a testing tug, but he held it fast.

Mitch was so big, so virile, and so powerfully male. The small space in front of the refrigerator was smothering suddenly. The cool air from inside the open door had no impact on the heat between their bodies or the arrows of attraction that peppered her skin and made her feel hot and edgy inside.

His voice was gruff and low and it stroked her someplace deep. “It’s a wrongheaded idea, but we’ll go to a restaurant.”

“No, we won’t.”

His dark brows lowered in irritation. “You need to eat. We’ll get that swelling down, then go.”

Lorna yanked at her hand and he released her. “I wouldn’t cross the street with you.” Her chin went up the smallest bit. “And I believe I’ll call your bluff about that blood test, Mr. Ellery. Since you’re obviously a take-over artist, you can make the appointment and I’ll be there.”

His eyes suddenly glittered with temper and she felt herself sway.

“And I’ll call your bluff, Miz Farrell. You’ll have that blood test. But right now, I’ll call your other bluff.”

With that, he leaned close. She managed a half step back before he swept her up in his arms as if she was no bigger than a small child. The quick movement made her head spin, and she reflexively gripped his wide shoulders. He seemed to sense he’d made her dizzy, so he didn’t move right away to carry her out of the kitchen.

He was growling again. “What am I gonna do with you?” His minty breath sent warm puffs of air against her face.

“You can put me down and leave,” she got out.

He studied her face, his irritation deepening. “Stubbornness and persistence can get you into all kinds of trouble. As you’ll find out if you don’t agree to back off with Kendra.”

Anger roared through her. “Ditto, Mr. Ellery. Put me down.”

“Fat chance.” He turned with her and stalked back into the living room to deposit her on an overstuffed chair.

The phone jangled on the table next to her. Lorna was mildly surprised that he didn’t snatch it up. She reached over and picked up the receiver as he towered in front of her.

Melanie’s worried voice came over the line. “Are you all right? I haven’t seen him leave.”

Lorna glanced up at the rock-faced man who watched her, his dark brows lowered in a surly frown.

She realized then that Mitch Ellery wasn’t a handsome man. His features were too rugged and rough. But he had a charisma that made him as magnetic and appealing as men whose features were smoother and more conventionally handsome. Perhaps more so.

Amazed that she’d been distracted by those thoughts, she glanced away from him. “I’m all right and yes, he’s still here,” she told her friend, then looked up at her unwanted guest as an idea sparked. “But he refuses to leave. If you’ll come over with your pepper spray, he might change his mind.”

Mitch’s expression went thunderous again. Lorna watched as his stern mouth moved to shape a succinct profanity.

Melanie’s, “Oh my gosh!” was as fervent as if she’d actually heard the silent word across the phone line. “I’ll be right over.”

“We’ll give him five minutes, then come over.”

“And you’ll explain why you gave him five more minutes when I get over there, right?”

“Right.”

Mel hung up and Lorna reached over to put the receiver in its cradle.

“You need to leave now, Mr. Ellery,” she said as she leaned back in the chair and looked up at him. “My friend lives across the hall, she doesn’t own a can of pepper spray, but she’s fiercely loyal and very protective.” She couldn’t help a weary smile. “You could very well find yourself on the drive home reeking of either cooking spray, furniture polish or the soap scum remover she might substitute.”

“Can she make you a sandwich? Get your blood sugar up?”

The questions were another surprise and hinted that he felt at least a particle of genuine care. And that touched her. Lorna felt her resentment toward him mellow.

“I’m sure she can do better than a simple sandwich. She’s a fabulous cook. Which reminds me. She might bring over a wire whisk or a potato masher. Have you ever seen what a wire whisk or a potato masher can do to the average tyrant? They’ve done all sorts of studies, and the photographs are pretty gruesome.”

His formidable expression eased, and she sensed something in his stern personality give way. The faint curve of his harsh mouth was probably as close to a real smile as she’d ever see from him. But if he was truly amused, he didn’t remark on it.

“She’ll look after you tonight?”

The caring that implied was suddenly painful for her and her faint smile dropped away. “Why on earth would you care?” The words were out before she’d thought them through.

Suddenly he bent down and braced his big fists on the chair arms. His face was very close now and the thrill that whirled over her was shockingly sexual.

“If not for this thing with Kendra, I might have found you…interesting.”

It was a blunt admission that shocked her to her toes. She fumbled for a way to answer that.

“And what will you find when the blood test proves that Kendra is my sister?”

Now he was angry again because his expression seemed to turn to stone in front of her. “It won’t.”

“It will, Mr. Ellery. And when it does, it won’t change a single thing, because Doris will never acknowledge it.” Saying that out loud sent a flood of old hurt surging up and she felt her eyes sting. She struggled to defy it, her gaze never wavering from the harsh lights in his as she declared, “In fact, unless I miss my guess, Doris will never submit to a blood test herself.”

“She will because it’ll put an end to you.”

She’d made him angry again and saying that was his retaliation. The smile she gave then was not a true smile, it was more of a grimace that eased some of the painful pressure in her heart.

“She sent you here with a check to put an end to me. That’s the only end she wants.”

He straightened, his dark eyes cutting into hers as if he was measuring her in some way.

“Get something to eat. I’ll be in touch.”

Lorna didn’t respond to that and he reached over to pick up his Stetson from the coffee table. He put it on and tugged down on the brim. It was a cowboy version of goodbye that was almost polite.

“You’ll hear from me about the test,” he said, his low voice now almost a warning.

“I’ll look forward to it,” she said. “But don’t hold your breath waiting for Doris’s consent.” She’d nicked his temper again, because his dark eyes glittered with it.

As if he was making a silent declaration, he pulled the folded check out of his jacket pocket, then tossed it to the lamp table out of her easy reach before he turned and strode out of the apartment without a backward glance.

Aggravated about the check but relieved he was gone, Lorna got up and walked to the bathroom. The small swelling was so minor it was almost nonexistent. It was merely a faint graze and would probably be completely healed by morning. Why had he fretted over it as if it was some grave wound?

She heard Melanie call out as she entered the apartment, so she called back, “I’ll be out as soon as I change my clothes.” Lorna stepped into the bedroom and shakily found a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. She gave her mussed hair a quick brushing, then went out to join her friend.

“I was watching at the peephole, so I saw him,” Melanie reported as Lorna came into the living room. Mellie lifted her light brows and made her green eyes go wide. “And wow. Kinda like a mix of John Wayne, Tommy Lee Jones and a Minotaur. Not handsome, but…awesome. And, dare I say it? Sexy,” she declared with a sparkling glance. “No need to explain the extra five minutes, amiga, but are you all right?”

Lorna laughed at that, suddenly feeling worlds better than she had in ages. She’d survived Mitch Ellery and he’d virtually decreed the blood test that, if nothing else, would prove she wasn’t a liar—or at least that she was willing to have her honesty put to a definitive test. Perhaps it was good that he’d left the check. It would feel even better giving it back to him a second time than it had the first.

“I’m fine,” Lorna said. “Pretty great, actually. I’ll tell you all about it over pizza. You can choose the toppings this time.”

“Sounds good. You want to call or should I?”

“I’ll buy, so you can make the call.”

While they waited for their pizza to be delivered, Lorna began to tell her dearest friend almost everything about Mitch Ellery. Almost everything, but the stunning attraction she felt.

Why she suddenly couldn’t confess that one thing when she’d confessed nearly everything else in her life to Melanie—was a surprise.