The Prodigal Wife

For those first days and weeks after the quick ceremony at the courthouse, Gabe had been amused by her stubbornness and her absolute refusal to allow him any contact with her. But when the days and weeks had turned into months, he’d stopped being amused.

He’d like to credit her mother’s death with Lainey’s sudden appearance here and her claim to have found out the truth. Her repentant pose had looked startlingly authentic, but they both knew the terms of her father’s will, and the fact that she’d waited six months to show up made her apology ring hollow.

According to the terms of the will, Lainey had to stay married to him for five years before she was eligible to receive full control of her inheritance. The five years were almost up, control of Talbot Ranch would revert to her in a few weeks, but her marriage to him—the marriage she’d never given a moment’s chance to—would be the only thing standing in her way.

Whatever he’d once hoped they might have together, there was no way in hell he’d just hand over what had been a bankrupt operation to an ungrateful female who’d virtually wiped her feet on him while he’d been risking everything he’d earned to get Talbot Ranch back into the black. Particularly now that she could legally claim control over every inch and dollar of the sweat and risk he’d invested to save it, then maybe make some token thanks before she demanded a divorce.

Though he’d agreed to John’s request and would keep their bargain to the letter, he didn’t plan to come out of the deal empty-handed.

He glanced toward the main house, but Lainey was no longer in sight. Unless her mother had succeeded in making a hothouse plant of her, he was certain she wouldn’t be able to sit around indoors for the rest of the afternoon. He figured she’d go over to Talbot and have a look around, so he didn’t let the idea bother him.

Whatever Lainey was up to now, her intention to be free of him wouldn’t be as simple as a token apology and a last trip to the courthouse.

Gabe’s housekeeper, who introduced herself as Elisa, put Lainey’s two suitcases, overnight bag and briefcase in the entry closet just off the front foyer. Uneasy and too restless and keyed up to wait around in the living room for over three hours until supper, Lainey left a hasty note on a paper scrap for Gabe on the coffee table, then left the house.

Her father had been buried in the small family cemetery on Talbot Ranch, so she went there. She drove past the big Victorian house and ranch buildings of the Talbot headquarters, and found the rutted road that stretched through three massive pastures to the gravesite.

The shady acre was enclosed by a white rail fence, and she parked her car outside the painted rails beneath an overhanging tree branch. She went to the trunk for the silk flower arrangement she’d bought in San Antonio, then entered the gate and walked to the headstone that marked John Talbot’s grave.

Poignant memories overwhelmed her as she stared at the carved stone and remembered the horror of hearing that her father had been killed. Her desperate race to get back to Texas had been blurred by the shock and numbing grief she’d been certain she couldn’t survive, then the terrible agony of his funeral.

How on earth could she have thought her father would do anything to hurt or slight her? For weeks now she’d looked through his pictures again and again, apologizing over and over for ever doubting his love and care for her.

Childish or not, foolish or not, she’d somehow hoped her father had heard her all those times. Perhaps the knowledge of what she’d inflicted on Gabe had prevented her from feeling relief; perhaps self-loathing and guilt would keep her in this torment the rest of her days, whatever Gabe had to say to her tonight.

Quietly she knelt down and placed the silk pansies and forget-me-nots in the slim receptacle at the base of the stone.

“I’m finally home, Daddy.”

All the other words crowded up from the love and heartache and brokenness she felt, and poured out in a fresh torrent of sorrow and regret. By the time the torrent had eased away, she had moved to the wrought-iron bench nearby to sit sideways on the end of it to pillow her cheek on the back with her wrists.

The sound of the breeze gently rustling the tree leaves overhead made her aware of its warmth as it brushed lightly over her clothes and teased through her hair. The first true sense of peace she’d felt in years began to trickle through her then, and she remembered the words, Not a soul on this earth I love more than my baby girl.

Her father had said that to her frequently, sometimes in his booming voice with a broad smile on his face, sometimes in a moment of gruff sentimentality.

The sweetness of the memory made her whisper back what she always had, “And there’s not a soul on this earth your baby girl loves more than her daddy.”

Lainey sat there for some time more in the calm that had eluded her for weeks. She’d needed this too long and craved it too desperately to rush away from it now. Drowsy from the heat, she must have dozed until she was roused by what sounded like a faint whisper.

Show him what you’re made of…

Half awake, her heart still clinging to the words she must have dreamed, Lainey lifted her head to look past the edge of the trees and note the angle of the sun. Alarm banished her calm and scattered the dreamed whisper. She got quickly to her feet and ran to her car.

Leery of driving too fast on the rutted road, she felt the ominous weight of each frantic second.

Lainey pulled up in front of the Patton main house, switched off the engine, then reached for her handbag and raced to the red doors. She stabbed at the button for the doorbell, then fidgeted as she waited. Elisa opened the door.

“I’m sorry to be late, señora. May I come—”

But the woman was already stepping back to graciously wave her inside.

“Do I have time to freshen up?”

“The second door on the hall.”

Lainey offered a smile as her heart fell further. The message she read from the way Elisa had answered was that she indeed had no time left, but the woman might have some sympathy for her need to make herself more presentable.

Lainey hurried toward the small bathroom to do something with her hair. She’d used the rearview mirror in her car to help guide her efforts to remove her smudged mascara, then had dug around for hairpins and given her hair a quick brushing, but she still looked wilted and mussed.

Another pass with her brush and a few repairs with the small amount of makeup in her handbag were made more difficult by her shaking hands. It was some consolation that at least Gabe had allowed her into his house.

She had no doubt that Elisa was giving him a report on her disheveled appearance, and she cringed. The last thing she wanted was for Gabe to think she was playing on his sympathy so he’d be nicer to her and perhaps consider forgiving her.

When she’d finished, Lainey found her way to the dining room. She’d never seen the private areas of Gabe’s house, but she had been in the main rooms a handful of times years ago. When she reached the formal room, she halted just inside the double doors.

Gabe sat at the head of the long gleaming table, his overlong dark hair still damp from his shower. The jeans and blue-striped shirt he had on were fresh but fairly common. He didn’t fuss over his clothes like men who were born to wealth or who worked in offices, and yet there was a quality about him that made him look just as neatly pressed and turned out in work clothes as he did in a suit and tie.

Gabriel Patton was a man who’d grown a substantial income from practically nothing through hard work, careful savvy, and the sheer power of his iron will. He was a man without a college education who’d taken big risks, refused to fail, and whose handshake on a deal made its outcome as certain as the sunrise.

Which was why her wrong beliefs about him had been such a profound insult to his integrity. This was a man who’d worked relentlessly to overcome his hardscrabble upbringing and achieve success. To even hint that he’d married her out of greed or to get anything by underhanded means was not only untrue but morally wrong.

The dark eyes that were too perceptive and too flat and hard to make her feel even a whisper of comfort, took note of her sudden entrance. The chill in his gaze kept her where she was and certainly didn’t show a hint of welcome. She endured it when his gaze flashed down the front of her to her feet, but it came back up so suddenly that she thought she’d imagined the swift look.

“I apologize,” she said quickly. “Time got away from me.”

Gabe didn’t comment on that, but instead called his housekeeper in. When Elisa appeared, he simply glanced her way and she disappeared back into the kitchen. Then his gaze shifted back to Lainey.

“Might as well sit.”

Lainey walked to the place setting to the right of his. Gabe rose briefly to seat her, but she knew right away that he did it only because she was a female guest and he was her host. The fact that he didn’t neglect the courtesy gave her a slim bit of hope.

Elisa brought a tray of food into the silent room and efficiently set everything out before she retreated to the kitchen. Lainey followed Gabe’s lead and reached for her napkin.

He didn’t speak to her and she didn’t feel comfortable trying to speak to him. There was nothing she could conclude about his mood except that it must be dark. He certainly wasn’t brimming with eagerness to make conversation with her, so she tried to eat the steak and assortment of vegetables and crusty bread set before her. When the silence bore down too heavily, she found something neutral to say.

“Elisa is an excellent cook.”

As if her remark had reminded him that she was sitting at the same table he was, Gabe looked her way. She couldn’t bear the searching impact of his gaze, so she looked down at her plate of food and gamely caught a piece of steak with her fork tine.

“You eat like she’s poisoned it.”

A nervous breath burst out of her before she could stop it. “No, I’m…sorry. My appetite isn’t good, but that’s not because the food isn’t…excellent.” She couldn’t seem to stop herself from glancing toward him to see his reaction.

As she’d half feared, he was watching her steadily and one of his brows showed a faint curl of both skepticism and curiosity.

“What’d you do?” he asked gruffly. “Get religion?”

The remark felt brutal but she tried not to be discouraged. “I found out what I should have known from the be—”

“Save it.”

Subject closed. What little appetite she might have had left flitted away, and she gripped the napkin in her lap with one hand while she tried to force-feed herself the piece of steak with the other. It immediately became difficult to chew, then once she’d got the job done, it was difficult to swallow. She set her fork down and reached for her water glass to take a helpful sip.

And immediately choked on the water. Self-consciousness made it worse, and she covered her mouth with the napkin while the spasms died down. To her relief, Gabe didn’t remark on it and never once did she feel the sensation of being stared at.

There were advantages to being ignored and this was one of them. But under the circumstances, Gabe’s continued silence, his skepticism and his obvious lack of interest in conversation, seemed to emphasize how little interest he had in any potential apology from her. It was as if he was only biding his time with her, but why? Why put up with her at all if he wasn’t interested in the reason she was here or what she had to say?

Lainey made another attempt at her meal, but finally gave up and sat silently, her hands clenched together out of sight in her lap. The mantel clock at the side of the room above the river stone fireplace ticked off the endless seconds. Hundreds of seconds, thousands of them, billions.

And then Elisa came in with a small tray of dessert. The pedestal dessert glasses were filled with chocolate mousse and topped with a crinkly dollop of whipped cream. Chilled, the outside of the stout glasses were already beginning to fog over as Elisa removed Lainey’s picked over plate and replaced it with the dessert.

Normally the treat was Lainey’s favorite, but her appetite reacted no better to the sight of it than it had to the fine meal. Nevertheless, she couldn’t refuse it so she picked up her spoon to dig in. At least the mousse would slide down more easily than the steak and vegetables had.

She’d managed two bites before the rich chocolate flavor touched off her appetite. Focused on the rich dessert, she was able to keep from glancing toward Gabe. But then she heard a soft sound of movement and glanced his way in time to see him lift his untouched chocolate and set it next to the one she’d nearly finished.

“Fill in those empty places,” he said, his voice low and gravelly with a kind of masculine gentleness that caught her off guard and sent a tidal wave of emotion through her.

“But don’t you—”

“Your favorite, not mine.”

His dark gaze was probing again, but with less force than before. Now it dawned on her that he might have made a special request to Elisa to prepare the dessert. If so, why had he been so harsh with her during the meal? Was this sudden generosity some sort of apology?

Leery of rejecting what might at least be a small offering of thoughtfulness, she made herself murmur a soft thanks. She’d eat the second dessert if it killed her. Though it went down slower than the first one, she managed the task but when it was gone, she set her spoon down and waited tensely for what would happen next.

“Elisa’s taken our coffee to the den.”

Lainey’s momentary relief that the meal was finally done was swallowed up by renewed anxiety as she eased back her chair to stand. Apparently Gabe meant to let her have the talk she wanted, but now that the time had come, she was back to worrying that he’d reject everything she had to say.

Lainey stood and then paused, glancing up at him. “I need to get my briefcase.”

The dark flicker in his gaze held hers. “If it’s papers, I’m not interested.” The dark flicker vanished because his gaze shifted and he waited for her to precede him out of the room. Once they were through the doors she hesitated, not certain where the room was.

As if he’d remembered that, Gabe directed her along the edge of the large living room to a hall in the east wing that brought them quickly to the den. French doors on the outside wall opened to a wide patio that was ringed with enough trees to shade the patio stones in the heat of the day.

All the other walls in the room were lined floor to ceiling with built-in bookcases. Among the books and stock magazines neatly stored on the many shelves were Native American artifacts and pieces of cowboy art. The furniture was heavy and masculine, and a few brightly colored Mexican throw rugs lay on the floor atop a carpet made up of a small variety of dark shades that wouldn’t show much of what might get tracked in during a workday.

Lainey might have felt comfortable in the large room and taken several minutes to more closely examine several of the pieces in the bookcases if anyone but Gabe had owned the room. Hesitantly she sat down on one of the two leather wing chairs he indicated in front of the big desk. The coffee tray was on the small table between her chair and his, so she looked over at him as he was sitting down.

“Pour for both of us, if you like,” he said, and settled back to watch her fill their cups.

She handed the first cup to him, then poured one for herself to soothe her dry mouth. When she’d finished, she slid back only slightly in the big chair to take a sip before she set the cup back down on the table. Weary of the wait but so anxious about it that she was on the verge of losing her nerve, she plunged in.

“I’m not sure where to start, but there are several things you deserve to hear.”

Now she braved a look at him and saw him leaning back calmly, studying her face. “Start with your plans for July.”

The gravelly request caught her off guard. He’d made it sound like a request, though he’d worded it as a demand. July was the month they’d been married five years ago. According to her father’s will, July was the month that sole control of Talbot Ranch would revert to her if she’d stayed married to Gabe for a full five years.

“I’m not here about who’ll control Talbot Ranch or what will happen in July with this marriage. I’m here to apologize and, if you’re interested, to explain why I’ve acted the way I have.”

“I’m not interested in pretty apologies. What I’m interested in are your plans for July. Will you file for divorce?”

Lainey couldn’t mistake the iron will beneath his words. Or the fine thread of anger mixed in. But why would divorce even be a question after what she’d done to him all these years? As far as she was concerned, divorce was a given. What Gabe didn’t know was that she’d found out about what he’d done for Talbot Ranch and she planned to do something about it.

“I’ve just recently found out that Talbot Ranch was virtually bankrupt when you took over,” she began, “and it looks like you saved it single-handedly in spite of what I did to you. I suspect you covered my inheritance taxes out of your own pocket when I thought they’d come from my father’s investments.”

She paused, but his stony expression told her nothing. “And since the quarterly checks I thought were from profits due me from Talbot Ranch must also have been paid out of your private accounts, I owe you a substantial amount of money in addition to a complete apology.”

Lainey finished briskly with, “On the subject of July, I’m certain you can’t possibly want to stay married a second longer than you agreed to.”

“Why’s that?”

The sudden comeback was unexpected, and she sat there a moment until she realized why. This was the opening for her to finally make the “pretty apology” he kept referring to so skeptically.

“As I’ve said—”

“I made a vow,” he said, bluntly cutting her off, “‘till death do us part.”’

The quiet words were like a sudden blow and Lainey felt the punch so vividly that it stole her breath. Her brain registered the shock, then she felt a new one when she belatedly realized the significance of what he’d just said.

I made a vow…

A vow made by a man whose handshake was as dependable as the sunrise; a vow made by a man whose words could be carved in granite and put in a museum.

Till death do us part…

“Surely you didn’t…” Her voice trailed away as the breathless feeling affected her again. “There’s no reason for you to sacrifice…”

The right words wouldn’t seem to come to her, but however shocked and rattled she was by what he’d said, Gabe was sitting back comfortably, his dark eyes intense as he watched everything about her and appeared to be waiting for her to finish what she was struggling to say.

“It was a marriage yes, but not a real marriage,” she tried again. “A—a business deal to help protect my inheritance, not a real…marriage?” The question she’d subconsciously put on the word invited an answer she hadn’t wanted to ask—didn’t want!—and her nerves began to jump and twist and scream.

Gabe seemed to know all that, so he let the wild silence stretch before he spoke, and the wait seemed to underscore every word that fell on her like the blow of a rock chisel on that museum-worthy piece of granite.

“No business deal I’ve ever made came with a ‘till death’ pledge before a judge,” he drawled in a low, rough voice, “or a wedding ring. Or a woman’s signature next to mine on a marriage license.”

The flash of heat that went through her all the way from her hairline to her feet scrambled her brain. She tried to think of something to say to that, some way to counter the grim statement he’d just made.

“You can’t mean that—you can’t really want me.” Another thought saved her and she added hastily, “Is this a way to get back at me for…what I’ve done to you all these years?”

She stared at him in the long silence while shock after shock thrummed through her and pounded home the knowledge that Gabriel Patton really did aim to stay married to her. There was no mistaking the flinty look in his eyes as anything but resolve.

“What did you think I was supposed to get?” he asked then, and she felt her heart quiver.

She sealed her lips firmly together, loathe to say the words a wife. And he hadn’t answered her question about getting back at her.

“I was denied the benefits and privileges of the five year marriage I agreed to make,” he went on in that same low, gravelly drawl that suddenly seemed more masculine growl than speech. “The deal I made wasn’t satisfied.”

Her heart began to flutter quicker and quicker. An even worse nightmare than facing Gabe and enduring whatever awful things he might say to her, was to face him and hear this.

“I’m sorry for that,” she said hoarsely, “but it’s—it’s not realistic to think that staying married for another five years will satisfy anything.”

“Have you made plans with another man?”

She couldn’t help the flush of heat that surged into her face. “Of course not.”

“So the man your mother chose for you didn’t make it past dinner?”

The flush of heat suddenly became a scorching mask and the guilt she already felt about that subject bore down more heavily. “If you know about him, then you know there was nothing but dinner. Ever. And there were two other couples present.”

Lainey couldn’t bear the stern gaze that stared fixedly into hers as if trying to see the truth, but she didn’t dare look away. She should rail at him for hiring an investigator to spy on her, but after what she’d done to shut him so completely out of her life, she could hardly blame him.

Thank God she’d done nothing that could be considered unfaithful, but the fact that Gabe had known about it deepened her shame. She’d never been romantically attracted to the man her mother had coerced her into having dinner with, and she’d felt so guilty about that one time that she’d never let Sondra maneuver her into another date with anyone else.

“I shouldn’t have gone out with anyone for any reason,” she admitted quietly. “I apologize for that, too.”

“So you’d have no distractions while you live up to your vows?”

Lainey stared at him helplessly. As intense as her crush on Gabe had once been, he’d been mostly a stranger to her. And now he was not only still a stranger, but a stranger who would naturally feel no small amount of ill will toward her. She’d be a fool to give him a chance like that. He could make mincemeat of her.

“I don’t think that’s what either of us really wants,” she said shakily.

“There’s no ‘us’ in that. Just you.”

The way he’d said “just you” somehow emphasized what he didn’t say: she’d gotten all the benefits of her father’s will—what would actually amount to several million dollars worth of benefits—without giving Gabe a single thing in exchange but trouble and public embarrassment. It was obvious he didn’t consider her offer of financial compensation to be enough to satisfy him.

But she had to remember that everyone in their part of Texas had known that they’d married, so it followed that everyone had to have noticed that she’d never lived a moment with Gabe as his wife. And because neither of them had ever lived as hermits, the gossip about them must have been intense.

She’d let old friendships drift to protect herself from hearing it, but Gabe had lived here knowing it was swirling around him, though she doubted anyone would have dared to repeat it to his face.

The guilt she’d felt these last weeks was suddenly nothing compared to the guilt she felt now. Nausea rose like a tidal wave as she felt the jaws of a trap snap tighter and tighter on her conscience.

Because she’d deprived Gabe of the marriage he’d bargained for, he was insisting that she live up to her vows and continue it. But the idea was terrifying. It wasn’t possible to have a normal marriage with him now, not after five whole years of hateful estrangement.