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  If only they knew, she thought numbly. She would have gladly given up the world if she could have forever with just one man.

  But in the end, that one man was not for her.

  Devon’s friends were grim as they watched Harry struggle for composure. Where the fuck are you, Devon, Logan wondered tautly. He didn’t think he or any of his friends had it in them to keep stalling Devon’s wife from leaving. While it was clear as daylight to them that she had cared for Devon a lot, it was equally clear that their friend had caused her terrible pain.

  Hoping to give her the distraction she needed, Nick changed the subject, saying, “You know, there has been one thing that we never quite figured out.”

  “O-Oh?”

  “How did you manage to leave the hospital undetected?”

  “Umm...” Harry’s cheeks turned pink. “I know it wasn’t right, but I was desperate that time so...” Biting her lip, she then confessed guiltily, “When Mama told me she felt responsible for my accident and everything that happened, I’m afraid I kind of took advantage of it. I told her that if she really meant it, she would help me leave.” She then told them of Mary Beth’s elaborate scheme, which involved bribing a huge number of people to look the other way as well as arranging for a getaway car to the airport.

  “So it was Aunt Mary Beth all along?” Sean shook his head in amazement. “And what about when you came here? Devon’s had detectives looking for you nonstop.”

  “I s-see.” She unthinkingly wrapped her arms around her body at Sean’s revelation. Don’t let it get to you, Harry. It doesn’t mean anything. It can’t. It mustn’t.

  “He also flew here every week to personally comb the streets for you.” Logan raised a brow. “You must know that at least?”

  Her shoulders moved in an awkward shrug. While the local channels had extensively covered his frequent visits to the state, she hadn’t let herself think much of it. “I thought he was just here for business—-”

  “I wasn’t.”

  DEVON WAS BREATHING hard, and his body still shook at the exertion of having to run three blocks to get here on time. It was either that or place his bet on his limo finding a way out of the heavy traffic, and the latter had been too much of a risk for him to take.

  Hilary had turned stiff by the sound of her voice, and just when he lost all hope of his wife ever caring to face him, she finally turned –

  Ah.

  Too beautiful for his mind to process, too damn thin and fragile for his heart to bear, but it was the depth of pain in her eyes that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from.

  “Are you going to accuse me of f-flirting again?”

  His chest nearly caved in at the way her voice caught, and Devon had to clench his fists against the urge to haul her into his arms. “I know you’re trying to be snarky, darling,” he said softly, “but you’re too sweet to make it work.”

  Her eyes stung. “And you’re still a liar.” She wanted – needed – him angry.

  But Devon’s inclined head was his only response. “I won’t deny it. I was a liar, darling—-”

  “Stop calling me that,” she hissed.

  “But never again. I’ve more than learned my lesson—-”

  The way he spoke, the way he looked at her – oh God, it made Harry want to believe him so badly.

  But she couldn’t.

  She just couldn’t leave herself open to the possibility of such pain again.

  “I don’t want to hear any more of this.” She tried to whirl away and leave, but when Devon caught her elbow and force her to face him again, something inside of her snapped. “Let go!” Her unshackled free arm went up, and she slapped him hard.

  Gasps of shock went through the growing crowd around them, but she no longer cared.

  The fact that they were in a public place, the fact that people around them were obviously listening and even recording their confrontation, the fact that reacting to him only meant she was not over him –

  All of it ceased to matter, and all that consumed Harry was the unforgivable pain of his betrayal.

  “I said let go—-”

  “I need you to listen to me, darling—-”

  “I said stop calling me that!”

  She slapped him again and again and again.

  But not once did he stop her.

  She kept hitting him, clawing at his face and punching his chest now, but still he didn’t stop her.

  She kept hitting him until her hand started to hurt, but he still didn’t make a single move to stop her.

  Why wouldn’t he stop her?

  Harry slowly found herself sliding to the floor—-

  An image burned in her mind, of a heartbreakingly handsome Devon appearing in Nick’s ball with another woman by his side.

  —-and she started to sob.

  Devon slowly knelt in front of her, and she found herself sobbing harder at the sight of his face.

  His beautiful, beloved face –

  Oh God.

  It was now a mass of fresh wounds, and even his lip was bleeding.

  “Why?” she choked out brokenly. It was the only word she could manage. Why had he bothered to come and look for her? Why had he let her hurt him? And why had he hurt her?

  “Because I love you.”

  A keening cry escaped her. “G-Get real.”

  Devon whitened.

  “Get real, Devon.” She forced herself to flung his words back at him even as her throat tightened with pain. “There’s little difference between a week and a month. So g-get real.” But this time her voice broke –

  And his heart broke along with it. “Stop it, darling,” he said rawly. “I told you, didn’t I? It’s not in you to cause people pain—-”

  A strangled sob shook her body. “Y-you make me sound like a saint.”

  “Because you fucking are—-”

  Tear-stained eyes that had lost its innocence speared his. “Then w-why hurt me?”

  The agony in her words ripped him apart, and Devon was barely able to speak past his own pain. “Because I was a fool. Because I didn’t know how lucky I was to have you until Death almost took you away from me. Because I never imagined I could love someone until I found you—-”

  But the glassy look in her eyes didn’t disappear, and her next words were his worst fears coming true –

  “I don’t know if I can bear trusting you again,” she choked out. “I c-can’t even make myself say y-your name. Just y-your name is enough to d-destroy me. I t-think it’s better if we just stay apart—-”

  “No!” Desperation filled him, and Devon said hoarsely, “Let me take all the risks then.” He seized her hands and brought them to his shaking lips. “Just c-come back to me and I’ll do the rest. Just stay in my life and let me make you my world. I’ll write you letters – real fucking ones, I promise you. I’ll let you drive my truck. I’ll give you whatever you ask for—-”

  But all she could do was shake her head, and excruciating torment ravaged his heart when she tried to pull her hands away. “Hilary, please.” He pressed his lips harder to her hands. “Just fucking stay. You can divorce me if you want.”

  Harry jerked at the words, and her lips parted in silent despair at what he was saying.

  “Have fucking affairs left and right to teach me a lesson.”

  Oh God.

  “I no longer care.”

  Harry stared down at his bent head, but her gaze was unseeing, her mind lost in Mary Beth’s stories about how her love for her husband had been horribly twisted, the kind of love that had scarred Devon for life –

  “Just fucking stay until I can make you see I’ve changed.”

  And yet now...Devon was offering that same love to her. He loved her so much...that he was willing to turn himself into the one man whose footsteps he had done his best to avoid following his entire life.

  A choked sob escaped her.

  He was willing to be another Desmond for her, and he was promising to love her even if she turned in
to another Mary Beth.

  “Oh, Devon.” She found herself weeping uncontrollably as she threw herself in his arms. “Oh God, Devon.” Not only could she speak his name, but right now it seemed to be the only thing she could say.

  Dazed blue eyes lifted to hers, and a smile wobbled on her lips.

  “I love you,” she whispered.

  His arms closed around her forcefully, so wonderfully tight she could barely breathe.

  But she didn’t really mind because she was hugging him just as tightly.

  “I love you, Devon.”

  “I love you, Hilary.”

  He pulled back as his lips hungrily searched for hers, and her eyes closed.

  She was back where she belonged.

  Epilogue

  Dearest Mrs. Montgomery,

  I wonder where you are and what you’re doing when this letter finds you. I wonder if you miss me as much as I miss you, and I wonder if, like me, you find yourself reaching for the other half of the bed when you wake up, only to find it empty.

  Harry let out a dreamy sigh even as she considered pinching herself. It just seemed so surreal, with how openly affectionate and romantic her husband was. He had changed so much!

  But most of all, I wonder if you’re as irritated as I am by the fact that I seemed to have hired a contingency of idiots to manage our ranch in Dallas. I swear to God, if I get called out of Evergreen one more time and made to spend time away from you, I’m firing the lot of them or have them strung up and quartered.

  She hastily covered her mouth as laughter threatened to spill out. Oh dear, maybe he hadn’t changed so much.

  Today wasn’t completely unproductive, though. I managed to recruit additional staff for our home.

  Harry’s eyebrows shot up. Primrose Ranch was so efficiently run by its current staff, she simply couldn’t think of what else they needed new workers for.

  I told them I would need trusted individuals in the nursery soon, and thankfully, Suzy and Mrs. Crow agreed.

  The letter fell to the floor as her hands flew to her mouth in shock. She had spoken wistfully of missing the two women, but she had never thought Devon would do something like this. Bending down, she picked the letter up and resumed reading.

  And since I was in the area as well, I also offered a job at the ranch to your friend Elsie, and she happily accepted.

  I hope those things made you happy, my darling.

  Her eyes started to sting. How in the world had she been so lucky to have a wonderful husband like Devon Montgomery?

  Before I end this letter, I thought I should warn you in advance we’d be receiving visitors next week. I thought it only polite that since your former colleagues at Sweet Life missed our wedding, we could throw a private party for them. I’m not certain, however, if everyone will be coming. There’s a woman named Caryn who appeared shocked when she learned that your rancher husband is not as dirt poor as she initially believed. She also appeared furious when I told her in no certain terms that I belong to you.

  Her toes curled hard. Oh, Devon!

  Because I am yours. Heart, body and soul. You’ll be happy to know, my darling, I was exceptionally clear about that. Especially when it comes to how much you own my body, such as the way you sometimes go crazy when I go down on you, and you would not keep my head between my legs for such an impossibly long time...

  The rest remained unread, with Harry’s wail of dismay filling the house as the letter once again slipped out of her hold. Oh, Devon!

  ~ The End ~

  The Billionaire Rancher's Temporary Wife

  Book Two

  28-year-old Isla Bouchard signs up to be a mail-order bride to escape her heartbreak and start a new life as a cowboy’s wife.

  She comes up to Aspen, Colorado to meet her future husband, who’s nothing like the sweet, gentle man his letters have made him out to be.

  Instead, Sean Northwood turns out to be a devastatingly handsome rogue, and even more shocking, he’s no ordinary rancher but a billionaire who owns one of the world’s most successful stud farms.

  Isla is terrified of trusting and loving a man again, but just one kiss from Sean is enough to make her forget all her fears and insecurities. And so she gives herself to him – heart, body, and soul – not knowing that the billionaire only sees her as a temporary part of his life.

  Chapter One

  Isla Bouchard could not get enough of Aspen in December. Naturally, she had done her best to research in advance about the place, but even so – reality was far better than what her imagination had been able to come up with. Maybe it was because her family was not the affectionate type, but she had never quite believed one could literally “feel” Christmas in the air...until now. Through the short but winding ride it took Isla to reach her hotel from the airport, she had seen just about every Hallmark Christmas card illustration come to life: rosy-cheeked children laughing as they crowded around Santa with his live reindeer, snowy-white mountains that reached up to kiss pristine-blue skies, and barren trees made festive by holiday lights hanging from its branches and red-and-green ribbons tied around its trunks.

  Soon, she had her first glimpse of her home for the weekend, and Isla couldn’t help but draw her breath as Mt. Aehrenthal slowly rose into view like a timber-and-stone castle straight out of a German fairytale. As her cab came closer, she was able to peer through its panoramic windows and take in its enchanting interior: stone-cladded columns that intersected with overhead log beams, tall exposed ceilings and shiny mahogany floors, leather sofas forming a half-circle around tree bark tables, and six brick fireplaces (and all of these were in the lobby alone).

  If Isla had been the type to feel self-conscious, then she would have already felt like shrinking into nothing by the time her white taxicab joined the long queue of luxury vehicles rolling up the driveway. To say that she felt out of place was an understatement; her entire surroundings were simply of a different league, one that even her comfortable, upper middle-class background had not been able to expose her to.

  All the clothes she had shopped for this trip, Isla realized ruefully, now felt quite outdated. She had purchased them only a month ago, actually, but somehow, the guests around her, dressed as they were in the most stylish ski and après ski attires, made it seem like anything sold this year was already out of fashion.

  It was as if only clothes meant to have its catwalk debut for next year’s winter season were en vogue, Isla pondered to herself. But how did one even shop for clothes that were not yet available? How did they even know that those would still be fashionable by the time they came out? Was this a mystery only the very rich knew the answer to?

  As soon as she climbed out of the cab, a bellboy came forward to take her luggage, and ignoring the snooty expression on the younger man’s face, Isla simply thanked him with a smile and engaged him in a cheerful chat about the hotel. “It’s my first time to travel alone,” she confided to him, “and it’s also my first time to see snow. Do you have any recommendations for what I can do here during my stay?”

  By the time they made it to the reception counter, the bellboy – Willy - had given up putting on airs and was quite enthusiastic as he described the many activities the town had to offer.

  Although it was only eight in the morning, Isla was pleasantly surprised when the hotel’s receptionist didn’t turn her away with a pointed reminder about the standard check-in time. Instead, the pretty, well-groomed receptionist simply gave her a warm smile of welcome and asked for her ID. “I’ll also need a few moments to search for an available room, if you’re alright with waiting, Ms. Bouchard?”

  “Of course. Please take your time.” While waiting for the receptionist, Isla looked about her curiously and noticed a pair of well-dressed women. Their gazes met, and she was about to smile politely in greeting when the two women quickly looked away as if worried Isla might suddenly latch on to them like a leech.

  The women’s reaction would have made most people feel insulted, but it
only caused Isla’s lips to twitch– a fact that did not escape the man seated at the opposite end of the lobby, his imposing length folded in one of the armchairs next to the windows.

  He had a tablet on his lap, and he had in fact been reading the news on it when he noticed her arrival. Everyone did, actually, which was ironic since she, on the other hand, appeared genuinely unaware of the impact she made on the right people.

  And with “right”, what he actually meant was the few men who had sat up and taken notice of her, men who were all wrong precisely because they were cut from the same cloth as he was.

  Like him, those men would see past her ‘plain Jane’ disguise, something he doubted she was even aware of. The tight bun would be a turn-on rather than a boring hairstyle (it made men like him hunger for the sight of her red-gold locks cascade down her back), and the same went with how she was covered head to toe in her turtleneck sweater and jeans (men would always want more what was withheld and unseen).

  Like him, those few “wrong” men would be far from intimidated by the way she carried herself: head up, back straight, and a stride that was brisk and purposeful as it was sensual and graceful. It was, if anyone cared to ask him, how he imagined Diana, goddess of the hunt, would have walked the face of the earth if she ever came down from Mt. Olympus.

  A woman who embraced her femininity but found no shame in her strength, he mused. A woman like her would no doubt be wild and imaginative in bed, her every instinct driven by passion – but only to a man she deemed deserving of her attention.

  And he would be that man.

  Just the thought of claiming her had his nostrils flaring, his hooded gaze burning so hotly that it inevitably stirred her consciousness and eventually caused her to turn around.

  A more polite man would probably have looked away by the time she faced him, but instead his scorching gaze remained on her, waiting to claim her from a distance. He had always been the type to court trouble anyway, and more than that, he wanted her to see the desire in his eyes – and know that it was all for her.