The Wedding Ransom Page 5

  At first no one reacted to his grim confidence. A long moment passed before Gus slammed his fist into his palm, Lucky broke out in a crooked-toothed smile, Snake folded his arms and smirked, and Ben acknowledged Rafe with a nod, his blue eyes twinkling.

  Maggie St. John beamed and said, “Excellent! So, when do we set sail?”

  The subsequent argument dragged on for hours. Rafe hadn’t seen such down-and-dirty fighting for years. When it was done, the victor kissed each vanquished combatant on his cheek. Each combatant except for Rafe, that is. To him she offered a smug, victorious smile.

  He decided then and there he’d have his kiss, and soon.

  Not on the cheek, either.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

  Carrying a tea tray, Maggie paused outside the door to the suite of rooms Barlow Hill had usurped upon his arrival at Hotel Bliss. On the tray sat a pot of coffee and a plate of molasses cookies baked by her own hand. Hill wanted refreshments for two, and Maggie was pleased to provide them.

  She eyed the sweets’ burned edges and smiled. For the first time in memory, Papa Snake had crowed with pride when viewing the results of Maggie’s baking. In fact, he had declared she should do all the cooking for Mr. Hill while her papas saw to the final preparations for their trip. A week of Cuisine Maggie probably wouldn’t kill the man, and a little bit of subversive activity was good for morale. Gus had even expressed the belief that enough of Maggie’s cooking might cause Hill to reconsider his decision to live at Hotel Bliss.

  It doesn’t hurt to hope, Maggie told herself as she knocked on the door.

  “Enter.”

  Maggie pasted on a false smile and pushed the door open.

  “Ah, Miss St. John,” Hill said from his seat behind Papa Ben’s large mahogany desk. He climbed laboriously to his feet. “Finally. I’ve been looking for you the better part of the day.”

  Actually, he’d sent Malone and the papas with his various summons. Far be it from Barlow Hill to make the effort to search for her himself.

  The other occupant of the room also stood and Hill motioned to him now. “I want to introduce you to our visitor. Mr. Graham Knight is the architect overseeing the construction of my personal home here at Lake Bliss. Knight, may I present the most beautiful lady in Texas, Hotel Bliss’s hostess, Miss Mary Margaret St. John.”

  Befitting her finishing school education, Maggie outwardly glided right along with the social amenities. Inwardly she wondered what Hill was up to. He’d always treated her politely, even during the trial. Now, though, he acted as if she were queen of the castle.

  She poured coffee for each of the men beneath Hill’s watchful eye. When she returned the silver server to the tray, she saw him nod with what appeared to be satisfaction. What in heaven’s name was going on? The situation grew even more strange when she turned to leave.

  “Maggie, dear,” Hill said, stopping her. “If you have a moment, I’d like you to look at the plans I have had drawn up.” He wiggled a finger at the architect who spread a set of blueprints over the desk.

  Maggie’s eyes narrowed. Had Hill found a subtle way to get back at her for her cooking? Did he have any way of knowing how much she hated the idea of his building a home at her beloved Lake Bliss?

  She approached the house plans with a sour taste in her mouth. When she saw what he had planned, nausea swam in her stomach. It was perfect. A dream house. Three stories high, gables and verandas, and literally dozens of windows. Maggie couldn’t hold back her sigh of envy.

  “It’s magnificent.” The words dragged from her mouth. “You’ve done an excellent job, Mr. Knight. It will be the showcase home in Texas.”

  Barlow Hill preened. “I quite agree. Knight has done a superb job, using my ideas, of course. I plan to build on the far side of the lake from the hotel. We’ll construct a dock, and I plan to put a rowboat and possibly a small sailboat on the water. Eventually we may add other amenities to those you have already established at the spa. I envision an English country home atmosphere. What do you think of my idea, Maggie dear?”

  Maggie dear? She wished he wouldn’t call her that. She backed away from the desk. “It’s a fine idea, Mr. Hill,” she said. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, my grandfather needs my help.”

  “No.” The word shot from Hill’s mouth like a bullet. “I have a matter to discuss with you.” He speared the architect with a look. “If you’ll excuse us?”

  “Certainly, certainly,” said Mr. Knight, rising from his chair. “I need to be on my way if I’m to make it into town before dark.” He looked at Maggie and added graciously, “Thank you for the cookies, ma’am. They were quite…” He faltered just an instant before adding, “Delicious.”

  As the visitor departed, Maggie inched closer to the door. Hill frowned, shook his head, and gestured toward the chair Mr. Knight had vacated. Maggie took a seat on the horsehair sofa near the doorway. Hill smiled smugly and sat down beside her. “Maggie,” he said, leaning toward her. “Maggie, my dear.”

  Good Lord, Maggie thought. Tell me he’s not batting his eyelashes. He was so close that she could smell on his breath the onions he’d had at noon.

  “While our case was before the court, I watched you closely. You impressed me. I recognized loyalty and integrity in your character. I admired your tenaciousness, your spirit, and your mettle. And through it all, faced with losing the home that appeared to mean so much to you, you never lost your poise, grace, and refinement. That impressed me. And of course, your beauty captivated me.”

  Oh, no. Oh, heavens, no. Maggie pressed back against the cushion wishing the sofa could swallow her whole. “Mr. Hill, I appreciate your kindness, but I really must be going.” She tried to stand. “My grandfathers—”

  “Can wait. I am building my manor house, Maggie, my dear. Such a home needs a lady in residence. My home will not be complete until I live there with my wife.”

  She forced a breath past the lump in her throat. “Well, um, how nice. I am certain your lady will love it here.”

  “I am too. Because, you see, she already does.”

  Maggie’s stomach dropped to her feet. “Uh, Mr. Hill.”

  “Barlow, please.”

  “I couldn’t,” she replied to more than the use of his Christian name.

  “You must. Think of how nicely it all works out. It’s true I would have preferred to establish my residence in New York, but my funds stretch further here in Texas. However, I have high hopes that in the not-too—distant future one of my investments will pay off and allow me to relocate, but until then, Bliss will be my home. As it is yours. I didn’t enjoy the thought of evicting you, my dear. This solution means I’ll not be obliged to do it. And with you as my lady of the manor, I wouldn’t think of forcing your grandfathers to leave the spa. They will spend their declining years living at Hotel Bliss. It is a perfect solution for all of us. Don’t you agree? The house should be finished by fall. We’ll marry then.” He lifted his teacup in a toast. “You, Mary Margaret St. John, will make a beautiful bride.”

  Chapter 4

  Maggie couldn’t speak. She could hardly draw a breath. Marriage? Marriage to the very man who had stolen her home away from her? How could he even think she’d consider it? Barlow Hill was nutty as a pecan pie.

  Or was he? The question slithered through Maggie’s consciousness. What if he hadn’t agreed to sell the hotel? What if she didn’t have the treasure to fall back on? What if, God forbid, he refused to honor their contract once they presented him with the money? What if a court found in his favor yet again? How far would she be willing to go to ensure that the papas didn’t lose their home, their health?

  As far as marriage to Barlow Hill?

  “I don’t know what to say, sir,” she finally managed. “This is so sudden.” A sudden threat, to be precise. Maggie didn’t cotton to threats one little bit. But as much as she’d like to tell him to take his proposal and sink it in a mud bath, Maggie realized she had a narrow path to tread. She must refuse him without offendin
g him or raising his suspicions.

  Despite his having signed a contract agreeing to the sale of the hotel, Maggie knew it was best to keep him in the dark until the papas had the purchase price in hand. Bitter experience had taught her that with enough time, lawyers could turn good-faith contracts into rubbish. Surprise was her family’s weapon. Better to present Hill with the cash and a bill of sale all at the same time, to fill up his pockets and send him on his way before he had a chance to reconsider. That was the best route to take.

  In the meantime, she’d need to buy time. The question remained, what was the best way to do it?

  She pushed to her feet. “We hardly know one another. Please, sir, don’t take this wrong, but wouldn’t you prefer marriage to a woman who…well…who has had the opportunity to develop…uh…feelings for you?”

  Feelings other than hatred, she silently added. His offer to allow the papas to stay at Hotel Bliss if she married him—it was blackmail pure and simple.

  He dismissed her objection with a wave of his hand. “I have no doubt we’ll suit just fine. And now that my house plans are finalized, we shall have more time together. We will spend the next few weeks getting to know one another better.”

  No, they wouldn’t. The trip. Gratitude for the upcoming journey washed over Maggie like a sea swell. In that moment she could almost taste the salty tang of freedom on the cigar-stained air here in Barlow Hill’s suite.

  She affected an air of distress. “Oh, dear, I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr. Hill. I mean, Barlow. With the hotel temporarily closed, I have planned a holiday of sorts. I’ll be away from Lake Bliss for a time.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Yes. In a few days.”

  “Where do you intend to go?”

  “New Orleans,” she replied, lying instinctively, because information was power and Barlow Hill already had enough of that.

  “New Orleans?” He shook his head. “No, that won’t do at all. You’ll be gone weeks. You must change your plans. I had thought we would host a betrothal ball. I want it held before the summer heat comes. Much more comfortable that way.”

  Betrothal ball! She hadn’t even said she’d marry the slug.

  She could go ahead and lie to him, tell him yes, but her tongue refused to form the words. Maggie needed a diversion, a way to sidestep the question. She seized on the first possibility that popped into her head. “Tell me, Barlow, if I were to accept your proposal, would you wish us to have a formal wedding? Would I require a special gown? I could shop for one while I’m in New Orleans. That is one of the main reasons I’m taking the trip, you see. I’m in desperate need of new, more fashionable dresses. I feel it’s important to keep up appearances, don’t you agree?”

  He blew out a heavy onion-scented sigh. As his brows furrowed in thought, he pursed his pale, fleshy lips.

  Hidden in the folds of her skirt, Maggie crossed her fingers as she flashed him a smile—a first for her.

  Finally, Hill nodded. “Yes, I shall want you to wear a special gown when we marry. Our wedding should be the premier social event of the year. We must begin preparations immediately. I’ll put your grandfathers to work sprucing up the hotel today.”

  Her grandfathers. Maggie closed her eyes, dread seeping through her. No, that wouldn’t do. That wouldn’t do at all. If her papas learned that Barlow Hill thought to marry her, they’d have a fit and take a fillet knife to him. No, her papas couldn’t learn about this. No one could. “It must be a secret.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “The wedding,” Maggie said, making it up as she went along. “We should keep it a secret. Like the wedding between the earl of Bellingham and Lady Millicent Cavanaugh in London. Society thought they’d been invited to a ball and the wedding was a surprise. No other event of the Season topped it. Papa Ben told me all about it.”

  Hill’s eyes widened, then narrowed in thought. “Hmm. I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

  That’s because the story was all a lie. A falsehood that Maggie hoped would appeal to Barlow Hill’s excessive vanity. “We could say it was a reopening celebration for Hotel Bliss. It would certainly be a first for Texas society, and being first is always good, don’t you think?”

  “Yes. Yes, I do.” Hill nodded decisively. “Of course, your grandfathers—”

  “Must not know!” Maggie insisted. “They don’t keep secrets worth beans. Why, telling my papas would be like announcing the wedding in the newspapers. Take my word on this, Barlow.” Her voice rang with sincerity as she added, “It’s best they know nothing about any wedding.”

  Hill’s brow dipped as he frowned over the question. Finally, he said, “Very well. We shall keep news of the wedding between the two of us for now. However, in private I will expect you to treat me with the respect due one’s betrothed.”

  Maggie’s smile went a bit sickly at that. She could only imagine what he meant by that, and her imaginings didn’t bode well. I’ll simply have to do my best never to be alone with the mullet.

  “As the event draws near,” Hill continued, “we may be forced to bring others in on the secret. For now, however, I shall provide you with a list of items to acquire in New Orleans.” After a moment’s pause, he added, “You are not traveling alone, I trust? I didn’t approve of your relations taking off and leaving you here alone with but a boy for protection.”

  Maggie managed, just barely, to hide what she thought of that remark. Keeping her smile pasted on, she shook her head. “Snake and Gus plan to accompany me. Ben and Lucky will come with us as far as Galveston. Papa Ben received notice that an order he placed over a year ago has arrived from Europe, so they’ll see us off before returning to Bliss with the supplies.”

  “And the stranger?”

  “What stranger?”

  “The man who returned with your guardians to Lake Bliss. This Malone character. I have only just met the fellow, but something about him grates like chalk on a slate. The name seems familiar, too, although I have not been able to place it. In any case, I would not approve of your traveling with him.”

  Finally she had reason to be pleased with her grandfathers’ choice to retrieve the treasure. Maggie met Barlow Hill’s gaze and lied. “I won’t be traveling with Mr. Malone. He’s here on business. He’s a horse breeder. You’ve probably heard of the Lone Star Ranch? Mr. Malone is interested in my Papa Lucky’s quarter-miler. I doubt his visit will last long.”

  She edged toward the door and added, “Now if you’ll excuse me, I promised Snake I’d help him roll out piecrusts for dinner.”

  Maggie pretended not to hear Hill’s objection as she slipped from the room and pulled the door closed behind her. Taking a step toward the stairs, her knees suddenly went watery, and she grabbed for the banister to steady herself. By nature, Maggie was strong during a crisis, but the minute it was over she fell apart. She fought to hold off such a reaction now.

  Marriage to Barlow Hill. What a horrific thought. But at least she’d managed to think on her feet and soothe the fool without ruining her own game. At least, that’s what she hoped had just happened. Drawing a deep breath, she made her way downstairs and out the back door, instinctively seeking the company of one of her grandfathers.

  Sunshine toasted her face and chased some of the chill from her bones as she glanced toward the corral where Lucky was busy making certain the horses were ready to make the upcoming trip. She couldn’t go to Papa Lucky. He would take one look at her and know something was wrong. Then he’d decide to make it better, and end up making it worse.

  Maggie gazed toward the garden looking for Ben. Upon retiring from the sea, the pirate captain had discovered he possessed a green thumb. He enjoyed digging and pruning and weeding and had made it his habit to spend part of the afternoon in the garden each day. During the golf game earlier that morning, he’d declared his intention to harvest a supply of ready vegetables to send along on the voyage. Maggie knew if she went to Ben and he sensed her troubles, he wouldn’t erupt li
ke an angry volcano. But he would fret something fierce. That wouldn’t be good for his health. Those breathing troubles he’d suffered upon occasion worried her.

  No. She turned away from the garden. As the head of their unique little family, Papa Ben had enough trouble on his mind already. He didn’t need to concern himself with Barlow Hill’s nutty plan.

  Fearing Hill might follow her to the kitchen should she choose to visit Snake, Maggie decided to look for Gus. He probably was the best choice, anyway. Gus was the type to offer her his support without forcing her to explain her mood. Earlier this morning he’d indicated his intention to lay in a stash of Bliss water for the trip, so Maggie headed for the lake.

  Papa Gus habitually filled the tonic bottles at a spot across the lake from the hotel where the water was at its deepest. Scanning the dock, she confirmed that the rowboat was missing, then she veered off toward the path that followed along the bank of the lake. She made her way toward the spot where she expected to find her grandfather.

  Maggie walked slowly, consciously babying her knee after a misplaced step twisted her leg and reminded her of last night’s flare-up. She admitted she might have acted precipitously by joining her papas in their golf game this morning, but when they mentioned it, she couldn’t say no. Maggie hated to allow the cursed rheumatism to limit her in any way. She found it easier to deal with the physical aches than the blows to her spirit caused by forced limitation of her activities. Besides, one little spell didn’t mean she was bound to have another bout of the disease. And that’s all last night was—one little spell. She wouldn’t think of it any other way.

  The afternoon’s warm and muggy air closed in on her, adding to her tension. Days such as this often brought thunderstorms before dark. Maggie glanced above her, searching for threatening clouds but thankfully finding only a wide expanse of pale blue. Even though a nice violent roar of wind and rain would suit her mood, today she’d just as soon stay dry.