Page 14 of Midnight Rider

He looked down at her. “Go ahead. Ask me,” he challenged when he saw her hesitation. “Surely you don’t mean to stop before you find out if my wife was deranged, as well?”

Her gaze fell before the anger in his. “I’m sorry. I don’t have the right to ask you such a thing.”

“When has that ever held you back?”

She colored. “Sorry,” she murmured again, and moved to remount the mare.

His lean hand caught her just as she lifted her foot toward the stirrup. He turned her and then let his hand fall. His eyes searched hers. “Consuela was quiet and introspective and very dignified,” he said at last. “If there was madness in her, it only surfaced once. And about that, I never speak,” he added tersely.

“Did you love her?” she asked with soft, curious eyes.

“I married her because my grandmother chose her for me, Bernadette,” he replied. His chin went up. “It was to be a merging of fortunes, a family alliance. Sadly, I had little of my father’s fortune left, and none of my mother’s. Consuela’s family had suffered devastating losses at their vineyards because of drought and a disastrous fire that killed the vines. Both families saw in me a way to mend the old fortunes. But there was too much against me.”

She wanted to comfort him, but she couldn’t think of a dignified way to do it. “How...how awful,” she said. “I guess the ranch means a lot to you.”

“It’s all that I have left of my own.”

“You’d do anything to save it, wouldn’t you?” she asked in a subdued tone.

“Not anything,” he said, and realized that it was true. He wasn’t going to pretend to be in love with Bernadette to get her to marry him. “Although a good marriage would probably save me from bankruptcy,” he added with faint insinuation.

She touched the saddle with a nervous hand. “Do you have a candidate in mind?”

“Oh, yes,” he said. That, at least, was the truth. “Here, let me help you mount.”

He assisted her into the saddle and rested his hand just beside her thigh while he looked up at her thoughtfully.

“Don’t come here alone again,” he cautioned. “There are bad men in the world, and you aren’t strong.”

She lifted the reins in her gloved hand. “Teddy Roosevelt had asthma as a child, you know,” she said. “He went to Cuba with his own regiment and fought bravely, and now he’s governor of New York State.”

“You’re thinking of following in his footsteps?”

She glanced down at him and chuckled softly. “No, I didn’t mean that. I only meant that if he could overcome such an illness, perhaps I can, too.”

“Nothing mends weak lungs,” he said. “You must take care of yourself.”

“I won’t need to do that. My father has chosen two impoverished noblemen to do it for me.”

He studied her thoughtfully. “Don’t let him push you into anything you don’t want,” he said, suddenly vehement. “Life is far too short to be tied to a mate with whom you have nothing in common.”

“Fine words coming from you,” she shot back. “You let yourself be railroaded into marriage.”

His eyes narrowed. “I didn’t see it that way. I stand to inherit a fortune at my grandmother’s death, all the family lands and vineyards in Andalusia and my grandmother’s share of an inheritance. It was thought that an alliance with Consuela’s family would simply increase the inheritance for our children and therefore ensure the future prosperity of the entire family. But these days my grandmother looks with more favor on my cousin Luis, who also married to please her and who has a son.”

She stared at him blankly. “Would it hurt you to lose her money?”

He seemed hard at that moment, harder than she’d ever seen him.

“Not at all, if I could save my ranch. If I can’t, I might end up as avaqueroworking for wages.” His eyes went dead. “I’d rather steal food than beg for it. An advantageous marriage would spare me that, at least.”

She was mildly shocked. “I never thought of you as an opportunist.”

He laughed coldly. “I’m not, as a rule. But lately I’ve become a realist,” he corrected.

“If you loved someone...”

“Love is a myth,” he said harshly, “a fairy tale that mothers tell their children. My grandmother told me that my parents weren’t in love while they lived together. I was fond of my wife, but I had no more love for her than she had for me. If you want to know what I think of as love, Bernadette, it has more to do with bedrooms than wedding bands.”

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