San Antonio's Finest Eligibles Page 6

  Chapter Eight

  A week later, Harry was alone in the patio, reading a beginner’s manual on ranching, when she was alerted to the whirring sound of multiple helicopters at the helipad. Even now, the thought that her new home had its own helipad felt very strange, and the fact that Devon owned two helicopters was even stranger.

  There were so many similarly strange things about her life really, she thought ruefully, that she had simply decided the best way to cope with such strangeness was not to think about it at all. If she allowed herself to dwell on the evidence of Devon’s impossible wealth, she had a feeling she would cry...and wouldn’t stop crying because then it would become evident to her that she was not the woman for him.

  The increasingly loud sound of helicopters descending on the helipad, which was at the back of the main house, was a welcome distraction, and Harry pushed all thoughts of Devon’s wealth away. Leaving her book on the sofa, she hurried out of the house to see who had been allowed to enter Primrose Ranch. By now, Harry was aware that the entire property was protected with state-of-the-art security, and only known guests of Devon were allowed entry.

  She halted midway when she saw three helicopters in total, and she shifted uneasily as uniformed guards rushed to open their respective doors. There appeared to be only one passenger per helicopter, the extravagance of which made her even more uncomfortable.

  The passengers were all males, tall and powerfully built like her husband, and when they came close enough for Harry to catch a glimpse of their faces, she realized that they were none other than Devon’s closest friends.

  Devon had never introduced her to them, hadn’t even talked about them to Harry, but she recognized them nevertheless. Every day, she would spend an embarrassing number of hours just researching Devon online. It was that or ask Devon, and the latter she could never do, Harry thought sadly, because Devon didn’t want to talk to her so much these days.

  The tall, dark-skinned man with ebony hair was Logan Hardwall, the half-Apache oil baron.

  Behind him was an equally attractive man with dark brown hair and hazel eyes. Sean Northwood was supposedly the playboy of the group as well as being the billionaire owner of America’s most successful stud farm.

  Last to come out of the helicopter was cattle rancher Nicholas Sutherland, a green-eyed blond who was just as attractive and wealthy as his friends.

  Before she could retreat and hide, the trio turned to her in unison, and Harry froze.

  Sean was the first to approach her, an easy smile on his handsome face. He was dressed the most plainly among the three, if “plain” was the right word for designer shirts and jeans that cost thousands of dollars each.

  He offered his hand and said charmingly, “Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m Sean Northwood, a friend of your forgetful husband. I believe you’re Hilary?”

  She shook his hand very briefly, mumbling, “Yes, sir.” She felt inadequate and intimidated by the three, who were all billionaires in their own right. She supposed Devon was one, too, but in truth, it was only the financial aspect of his life that she had not researched about at all.

  She didn’t like thinking of him richer than what was ordinary. When he was with her, Devon never acted like he was some hotshot billionaire, was always dressed for ranch work, and this allowed Harry to bury her head in the sand and pretend he was not what he really was.

  With Devon, she could be herself.

  But now that she was face to face with his extremely sophisticated friends, Harry knew pretending Devon was a simple rancher was pointless.

  Devon’s friends exchanged looks of surprise at Hilary’s shy demeanor. How could a woman as her handle a man as worldly as Devon?

  When Devon’s wife turned to him again, Sean said meekly, “It would be a pleasure if you called me just Sean, ma’am.”

  “Sean,” she repeated and with a nervous smile, she told him, “Most people call me ‘Harry’.”

  Sean’s dimple flashed. “Interesting. But Harry it is then.” He gestured to his companions. “These are Logan Hardwall and Nicholas Sutherland.”

  “We’re friends of Devon, too,” Logan murmured, his voice darkly musical.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Harry,” Nicholas said with a brief but warm smile.

  She shook hands with the other two and after, she said apologetically, “Devon isn’t here, though. He’s in Dallas. One of the ranches there suffered from a fire, and he’s making sure everything’s taken care of.” It was true, although Harry only knew it because George, Devon’s most trusted forehand, kept her informed, probably out of pity.

  What the hell was Devon playing at, Sean wondered. Just one week into marriage, and Devon was already spending most of his time away from his wife. It definitely had everyone in Texas talking, and Sean felt a pang of pity when he saw the haunted look in Hilary’s eyes. It was obvious enough that she, too, was aware of the rather sorry state of her marriage.

  “I’m sorry you missed him,” Hilary said finally, feeling like she had to fill the awkward silence between her and Devon’s friends.

  “It’s alright.” Logan was the one to speak this time. “I’m sure he’ll hurry to get back to your side as soon as he’s done with work.”

  She forced a smile. “Would you like to come inside for a drink?”

  “If it’s not too much trouble, ma’am,” Nicholas answered.

  “Not at all.” As she started to walk towards the house, the three following her, Harry said with a look over her shoulder, “I’ll also send a text to Devon so he knows you’re here.”

  Maybe, Harry thought with rising hope, Devon would come home earlier because his friends are here.

  When Devon’s wife was no longer facing them, the three friends exchanged grim looks once more. Devon had asked them not to attend his wedding because it would make things too personal. This, they understood, but when Devon refused to invite them to meet his bride even after a week, they all knew something was up.

  And now that they had met Devon’s wife...

  When Harry left them in the living room to serve them refreshments, Nicholas said abruptly, “He’s being an ass about this. It’s clear to see that she’s nothing like Aunt Mary Beth.”

  “I have a feeling he’ll come running straight back here when he realizes his wife’s surrounded by three single men,” Sean murmured. “Devon’s always been a possessive bastard, and I’m sure he’s even more so with his woman.”

  Logan snorted. “Even with us?”

  “We’re men. That’s all his jealous side will care about.”

  DEVON WAS IN A BLACK mood.

  In truth, he had been so for days, ever since his wedding night. The magnitude of the passion he and Hilary shared on their wedding night had greatly disturbed him, enough to make him quietly leave her side the moment he felt her succumb to sleep.

  Since then, he had done his best to stay away from the house most hours of the day and returning only late at night. If he could stop himself from taking her to bed, he would have, just for self-preservation alone. But he could not. He wanted her too much, needed her like a hunger that could never be appeased.

  She was an addiction, Devon thought savagely, and like all addictions, it must be cured. The thought had him bending forward and urging his steed to run faster and gallop across the hard dry ground. But even so, it did nothing for him, and when he came back to his ranch, he was in an even blacker mood.

  He had thought to outrun – hell, to run away even – the memory of the nights he spent with his wife and the knowledge that he had as good as abandoned her.

  But he hadn’t been able to.

  Hilary had made her mark on him, just like the way Mary Beth had made her dangerous mark on his father Desmond.

  Never.

  The word rose in his mind as he remembered the many times Mary Beth had reduced Desmond into acting no better than a slave to love, and all because she wanted proof he loved her more than he loved the ranch.

  Never
.

  Even when he was young, Devon had never thought of blaming Mary Beth. She was what she was, and she could never change. It was Desmond he blamed, Desmond he could not forgive for being so weak, to the point that almost all their lives had come crashing down on them because Desmond had loved Mary Beth too much.

  Never.

  And so when he received Hilary’s message, he deleted it without reading a word. He had to start early, had to start putting boundaries before it was too late and he became as weak as his father.

  It was nine in the evening when Devon finally made it home, and the sight of his friend’s helicopters parked at his helipad had him cursing. What the hell were they doing here?

  He strode swiftly towards the house, and the first thing he heard was the musical sound of her laughter, followed by the deeper baritone of other men’s laughter. Devon eventually found them at the patio, his three friends seated in a circle around his wife.

  Devon whitened.

  Maybe, if they had been arranged differently, he would not have minded. But they were not. His friends and his wife could almost pass for an exact replica of the last time his father had seen Mary Beth, which also turned out to be the last time his whole family saw Desmond alive.

  That night, Mary Beth had also been surrounded by three men, all of them her ex-lovers. That night, Mary Beth had been furious with Desmond for choosing to oversee the construction of their Dallas ranch – the very ranch that Devon had just come home from – rather than coming home to her.

  That night, Mary Beth had taunted Desmond about being happy even when he was not there.

  That night, Desmond had driven away, drunk behind the wheel, and he had returned to them dead.

  And now, was the past about to repeat itself?

  Never.

  In a cold, lifeless voice, Devon asked, “If it’s not too much to interrupt your party, may I have a private word with my wife?”

  Chapter Nine

  Harry jumped to her feet, a smile breaking on her face as she was about to welcome her husband back home. But her smile faded and the words she wanted to say died in her throat when she saw the hard look on Devon’s face.

  His friends also came to their feet, and she gestured to them awkwardly. “T-they arrived here this afternoon looking for you.”

  “What took you so long, man?” Sean asked with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He looked at the other men. Devon was jealous.

  Nicholas and Logan nodded imperceptibly.

  Devon forced himself to return Sean’s smile and clapped his friend on the back. “Work.”

  Nicholas asked, “You hungry? Your wife here knows how to cook a good steak.”

  “I’ve already eaten dinner, thank you.” Devon’s lips tightened at the realization that all three had enjoyed a meal with Hilary in his home – something he himself had not even experienced. He turned to his wife. “Hilary?”

  She swallowed. “O-of course.”

  “Excuse us,” Devon said without looking at his friends. Cupping Hilary’s elbow, he guided her out and up the stairs.

  Harry’s heart raced in trepidation as she followed Devon to his study. The door had barely closed behind her when Devon spoke.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  The first words out of Devon had Hilary jerking. He hadn’t shouted, but he might as well have. His tone was icy cold, and the look on his face made her feel bewildered and terrified. What had she done so wrong to make him gaze at her with such contempt?

  “S-shouldn’t I have allowed them inside?” It was a stupid question, but she just couldn’t think of anything else to explain Devon’s anger.

  His hand slammed down hard on the table, and the sound made Harry bite her lip. Why was he so angry? What had she done?

  “Don’t play games with me,” he snarled. “You’re one woman alone with three unmarried men—-”

  “They’re your friends,” she gasped, finally realizing where his words were leading.

  “Three unmarried men,” he stressed angrily, “who are notorious for their womanizing ways. So I’m asking you again – what do you think you’re doing?”

  She gazed at him with hurt incredulity. “I can’t believe what you’re asking of me,” Harry whispered. “They’re your friends.”

  “And you think friends never become lovers?”

  “No, but...” She wrung her hands, the only way she could cope with her anxiety without exploding. “Devon, surely you know I wouldn’t ever...I wouldn’t ever do what you’re thinking I did.”

  “Why not?” he asked coldly. “Ours is not a normal marriage—-”

  Harry whispered, “But I love you.”

  Devon whitened at the words.

  She...loved...him?

  His heart slammed hard against his chest, which squeezed painfully, but he forced himself to ignore all the havoc his emotions were creating and focused on the facts – blood-stained facts that he had learned from his own parents’ weaknesses.

  “Get real, Hilary,” he snapped. “You have only known me for a week, and now you’re telling me you love me?”

  The words felt like a slap to her face, and when Devon turned his back on her dismissively, she felt like everything that had just happened between them was between an employer and an employee and not between a husband and a wife.

  “I don’t really give a damn what you do during your personal time, but I do mind that you be discreet.”

  More cruel words, Harry thought dully. “Why are you like this? You weren’t like this when you wrote those letters—-”

  “I wasn’t the one who wrote those letters.” Devon knew that by saying those words, he was destroying whatever good opinion Hilary had of him – as well as destroying her, too. “I asked someone else to write whatever you’re likely to want to hear.”

  It was better this way, he told himself harshly. He had wanted a mail-order bride to make himself permanently unavailable to the market and protect himself from a nagging future wife. It was time for Hilary to take off her rose-colored glasses and realize the truth of their marriage.

  When Hilary still didn’t respond to his words, he looked up grimly, and an acute pang of guilt seized his chest when he saw that she was crying, silently, and so hard that her shoulders shook with it.

  Devon’s fists clenched. He wanted to take every word back, wanted to haul her into his arms and beg for her forgiveness, but he couldn’t. He damn well shouldn’t. Because if he did, then he would never find the strength to keep himself away from her again.

  It was better this way.

  HARRY WOKE UP THE NEXT day to find out that Devon had again flown out to one of his ranches, together with the express orders that Harry was to be driven to San Antonio for a short vacation with her mother-in-law.

  Her first instinct was to refuse and pack her bags and leave. But common sense reasserted itself and she knew that would do no one good, least of all herself. She had burned all of her bridges when she left Miami. There was nowhere to go except wherever Devon wanted her to go. And she supposed that with this, Harry thought painfully, it was clear he wanted her elsewhere until she learned to accept that theirs was not a normal marriage.

  Life with Mary Beth could have been fun, but Harry could only make herself go through the motions. She did her best to pretend she was happy, but every night she was unable to stop the tears from flowing, crying endlessly until she succumbed to an exhausted sleep.

  This did not escape Mary Beth, of course, and after hearing Hilary weep for five nights straight, she knew it was time for her to act.

  “Devon, sweetheart, how are you?” Mary Beth cooed the moment her son answered the phone.

  “Busy, Mama.” It was partially true. Devon was at the stable, giving his horse a bath even when anyone could have done it for him. He worked almost twenty hours each day now, but even so he still found himself running out of things to do.

  When it was clear that was all Devon had to say and would not
ask about his wife, Mary Beth asked innocently, “Is that why you sent your bride to me? So she wouldn’t be bored all alone in that huge old ranch of yours?”

  “You know me too well.”

  Yes, she did, Mary Beth thought. Better than he gave her credit for. “Well, I just called to tell you that I expect to be amply rewarded for entertaining your wife.”

  “Of course.”

  “It’s not that much of a chore, though.” Mary Beth made her voice sound wary. “She’s very popular with the men here in San Antonio, and I can’t help but notice that she’s a lot more outgoing than she used to be. If I didn’t know her better, I would have said she was flirting.” The opposite was true, but Mary Beth was counting on her son being too proud to keep tabs on his wife. Mary Beth allowed for a small, meaningful pause before asking, “Have you and your wife had a fight, Devon?”

  It took Devon a long while to answer, for all he could see in his mind was a red haze of rage. She really was no different from other women, he thought bitterly. He had asked Hilary to lead her own life, and she had. She was leading her own damn life like a merry widow while the past weeks had been hell for him because of his celibacy.

  “Yes, Mama,” Devon said finally. “It was over something inconsequential.” He slowly ran a brush through the locks of his stallion’s mane. “I will, however, be there tomorrow night. Will you be attending Nick’s annual charity gala?”

  “Oh, yes. Dozens of men have asked your wife for the honor of being her escort while you’re away. I’ve done my best to dissuade them, but if dear Hilary insists on entertaining them...”

  “That’s all right, Mama. I’m determined to make things up to her tomorrow night. I’ll be attending, too, but please keep it a secret. I want to surprise her.”

  Mary Beth smiled to herself when she ended the call minutes later. She knew it, Mary Beth thought smugly. Every man could be taken to heel with just a little bit of jealousy.

  Chapter Ten