Chapter 3
Seated on the uncomfortable ladder-back chair across from the bed, he had an unrestricted view of her face.
He had found some chicken noodle soup in the well-stocked cupboard and saltines.
Along with the strongly brewed chamomile tea, he had prepared a tray and taken it to her.
It felt good taking care of her, even if it was such a small matter.
She was so fiercely independent that she insisted on doing everything herself. Even when she had been at the ranch, she had brushed aside the helping hands of his men when they wanted to saddle her horse.
Propping his booted foot on his knee, he studied her in the silvery light of a full moon, filtering through the thin curtains.
She had fallen asleep right after consuming the hastily prepared meal, thanking him politely, before telling him that he should go.
He had not bothered to answer but had simply taken up his position on the chair.
He grinned wryly when he recalled that she had sent him a baleful look before drifting off to sleep.
God, she infuriated him! He thought, shaking his head. And she was the only woman who had ever challenged him in every possible way. And now she was carrying his seed inside her. It was the most intimate thing that could ever happen between two people, and he was humbled by it.
His childhood had been tumultuous. He had been an only child but had always been treated like the heir to a vast fortune.
His father had been hard and cruel, never showing love, neither to his wife nor to his son.
Bryson had stopped trying to please the old man when he discovered painfully that it was a hopeless endeavor.
If he got straight A's, he was told that he could have done better in some sporting activity.
Not to mention the fact that he had excelled in even the minor sports.
There was always something to pick at him about: the way he sat his horse, even though he was an excellent rider, or the way he handled a pitchfork when shoveling hay.
Bryson had learned to do things his way and try his best not to piss off his father too much.
The man had a heavy hand and was never afraid to use it.
Shaking his head to dislodge the unpleasant memories, he concentrated instead on the woman across from him.
Her natural curls, tipped at the ends with gold, streamed over the pillows.
Her legs were curled up, almost to her chin and her hands were clasped as if in prayer, under her cheek.
Even in the light from the moon, he could make out the flawless complexion of her caramel colored skin.
She had a high intelligent forehead, tapered brows and a small narrow face.
Her nose was slightly tipped up at the end, and he shifted restlessly as his gaze landed on her parted lips, lingering there.
It had been the first thing he noticed when he saw her in the crowd.
She had been wearing lipstick, a shimmering gold that matched the dress she had on, and he had been fascinated and attracted.
The taste of her had lingered even after they had made love.
Sitting up, he shoved his hands through the front of his hair and sighed softly.
She was still hell-bent on leaving as she had informed during the partaking of her meal.
And he had too much pride to try and persuade her.
He could bloody well force her to stay. She was carrying his baby inside of her.
He was a powerful man, a force to be reckoned with, and he could have his fleet of expensive lawyers draw something up that would force her to stay until the baby was born.
He was sure they could come up with something.
They were paid a bloody fortune to do just that.
He blew out a breath and knew without a doubt he could not enforce his desire on her. He could not force her to stay; it was not just a matter of his pride, it was that the woman on the bed was independent and determined and so bloody stubborn that she would fight him every step of the way.
He rubbed his fingers over his temple wearily. He had been receiving messages and phone calls from his mother and Sara-Lee, and the guilt was churning inside his gut. He had promised to meet Sara-Lee for supper. He should call her back and tell her that something came up. He wouldn't be lying.
Lifting his head, he stared at her again and felt the familiar bump of his heart. She was beautiful and fiery and magnificent. She wasn't afraid of anything or anyone. His men stood at attention and gave him the utmost respect.
A smile touched his lips as he recalled their frequent arguments and, oh good Christ, the moments after where they would burn up the sheets with a passion so intense it would leave them dazed and disoriented.
Rising abruptly, he paced over to the window and stood there looking out.
He had no idea what the hell kind of father he was going to make.
He never had a good example. He would make it work, dammit!
He thought fiercely. He would make it work.
******************
"Arlene, do you know if my son is already up?
Usually, he stops in for a coffee before heading out and I really need to speak to him about something.
I've been calling his phone and he's not picking up.
" Barbara put aside the tea she had been sipping and removed her reading glasses to rest her eyes.
"Oh ma'am," the housekeeper straightened her starched white apron a little self-consciously. "He's not in his suite. I sent one of the maids to tidy his bed and it was still made."
"Oh. Perhaps he spent the night at Sara-Lee's." Barbara decided.
Arlene shifted her feet restlessly.
"What is it?"
"Ms. Sara-Lee called and said she had been trying to get in touch with Mr. Bryson since last night."
Carefully schooling her expression, Barbara picked up her cup and took a sip of the now lukewarm tea. "That will be all, Arlene. If you see my son when he comes in, please let him know I need to speak with him as a matter of urgency."
With a bow, the woman left the room. Waiting until the doors were closed, Barbara set aside the cup, a frown touching her brows.
She had a very good idea where he had spent the night.
That woman had not been back one night before he had gone running to her.
She had bewitched him before, almost destroying him when she left.
She had sized her up the minute he brought her home.
She was nothing but a gold digger who wanted to latch onto a good thing.
Her son had been blinded by her coarse beauty and bewitched by her raucous and appalling manner.
Barbara had rejoiced when she had finally come to her senses and left.
And now she was back. Why? What could she possibly want from Bryson and why had he gone running to her?
Crossing the room, she opened the door and was about to head out to the kitchen to instruct the chef on the menu for the dinner party tomorrow night when she heard the front door slam and the sound of his voice in the foyer.
Standing rigidly at the base of the steps, she watched as he made his way towards her.
"Mother."
"Darling." Forcing a smile to her lips, she gestured for the maid to leave them alone. "I've been calling you."
"I had no idea my phone was turned off." His green eyes studied her face and, making a decision, he took her arm and led her into the salon. "I have something to tell you, and it might as well be now." Gesturing for her to take a seat, he went to pour himself a cup of coffee.
"What is it?" Sitting on the beautiful chaise lounge, she folded her hands in her lap and waited patiently.
"You know that Julianne is back."
"I'm aware. I was the one who informed you of the unfortunate news."
Ignoring that, he plodded on. "She's back because she has news."
"I can't see what news she could possibly have that would be of interest to you."
Taking the cup with him, he went to sit on a chair across from her. "She's pregnant."
Barbara went absolutely still, her spine straightening, her heart beating painfully against her ribs.
"Surely she's not suggesting that you had something to do with it. She..."
"It's mine," he interrupted grimly. "I have no doubt where that is concerned."
"Darling, you're not thinking straight." Barbara had to keep from shouting at him. The woman had blinded him again and this time it was far worse than before. "She left..."
"Two months ago and hasn't been with anyone else." He raked a hand through the side of his hair and stood up. "Look, I know you don't like her for whatever reason..."
"She's not right for you."
His brows lifted at that. "And Sara-Lee is?"
"Speaking of the poor girl, she has been calling all over the place looking for you."
"I will speak to her. I just came back to shower and change and attend to some business on the ranch.
She doesn't want to stay. She said she'll be here for a week and then she would be leaving.
" Tossing back the coffee, he strode over to the table to put the cup down.
"I'm hoping to persuade her otherwise." He looked at her.
"This time, I'm going to ask you to put aside your hostility and try and get along with her.
She's carrying my child, your grandchild, and we're both going to do our bloody best to be accommodating. "
Barbara lifted her chin and met his eyes with her frosty ones. "And Sara-Lee? What about her?"
He lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "I'll figure things out."
"This woman is playing you for a fool. She did it before and she's no doubt doing it again. She's trying to get money..."