Chapter 13 #2
He descended and helped her down to the dusty street.
She was especially pretty today in another one of the new gowns that she’d altered during their traveling.
The pale pink made her tan skin and dark hair more vibrant and brought the color out in her cheeks.
The bodice, with its few rosettes, showcased her curves and slender waist. The long skirt hugged her body closely too.
He tucked her hand into his arm, smiling down at her as he did so, hoping he looked like a newly married man showing up with the woman he loved.
Dickinson was watching them, probably trying to gauge the sincerity of the marriage.
If the old lawyer said anything critical, Beckett would be the first to remind him that there hadn’t been stipulations about love, only about proving he was married by his thirtieth birthday, which was still two weeks away.
“Hello, Beckett.” Dickinson held out a hand as Beckett climbed the stairs.
Beckett shook it, then turned to Hyacinth. “This is my wife, Hyacinth. And Hyacinth, this is Mr. Dickinson, who has been our family lawyer for many decades.”
“Pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Dickinson bowed his head at her.
Hyacinth nodded in return. “Likewise.”
Dickinson’s expression remained as severe as always. “Welcome home to both of you.”
Beckett’s smile fell away. “This isn’t my home anymore.”
“About that . . .”
“About what?”
Dickinson’s serious expression held an apology as he waved a hand toward his office. “Let’s go inside, and we’ll talk out of the sun.”
Something in the lawyer’s tone brought Beckett’s pulse to a crawl. He almost demanded Dickinson speak his piece out here. But he didn’t want to make Hyacinth stand in the hot sun any longer than necessary.
Besides, Hyacinth would be out of danger inside. Even with the dozen or so men surrounding them on their horses with their guns at the ready, Beckett still didn’t trust that the streets of Turnersville were safe.
“Fine.” Beckett spoke curtly, a premonition rising inside that he wouldn’t like the conversation that was about to take place.
They followed Dickinson into the spacious front room, which was immaculately organized and spotless. Dickinson was not only loyal to the Double T, but he was brilliant, meticulous, and never missed a detail. His savvy had helped Pa and Sargeant win more legal battles than they’d deserved.
Another younger man was sitting at one of the two desks.
Dickinson introduced him as his son-in-law and assured Beckett of his trustworthiness.
Dickinson escorted them to a cluster of wingback chairs and a sofa in one corner of the office.
Beckett helped to seat Hyacinth into a chair but couldn’t make himself sit and instead stood beside her.
Dickinson perched on the sofa and opened the folder on his lap. “This is Sargeant’s last will and testament.” He withdrew a folded set of papers.
“I did what he wanted and got married by my thirtieth birthday.” Beckett withdrew from his inner coat pocket the marriage license he’d obtained from Reverend Livingston. “I brought my wife here and also have this.” He held out the official document.
Dickinson took it, flapped it open, then examined it.
Beckett rested a hand on Hyacinth’s shoulder but then stifled a sigh. Holding her shoulder wouldn’t convince anyone of the sincerity of the marriage. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to Hyacinth’s crown. “I’m the luckiest fella to have a woman as beautiful as Hyacinth.”
She cringed.
Shoot. She hated compliments, and he shouldn’t have chosen this moment to give her one. “Sorry, darlin’.”
He bent again. This time he pressed a kiss to her lips. He had to allow for an exception to his make-her-beg kissing condition in order to prove to Dickinson that he really was attracted to Hyacinth.
Her mouth was soft and warm, but she hesitated, almost pulled back, as if startled by the kiss.
That wasn’t good. He didn’t want Dickinson wondering why she was surprised by a kiss.
Beckett quickly deepened the connection, slipping his hand to her cheek.
The taste of her was as incredible as the last time he’d kissed her.
As he grazed his thumb across her face, she responded, opening up and sliding her lips against his, not shying away or being a prude.
She was as strong and feisty in kissing him as she was in every other way she interacted with him. And it only made him want her more.
Even if they were just pretending, the attraction was real, and he hoped Dickinson could see that.
She broke the kiss after only a few seconds, then sat back, a pretty shade of pink climbing into her cheeks. She might be more unconventional than most women he knew, but she was still innocent.
Dickinson’s gaze flicked to them and back to the marriage certificate. “It would appear that you’ve met Sargeant’s first requirement.”
“First?”
Dickinson situated Sargeant’s will and testament on his lap. “Yes, Sargeant left a short list of requirements.”
“Whoa now. You mean to tell me there’s more than just the marriage?”
“Precisely.”
“Then why didn’t you say so before I made the trip here?” Already, the marriage requirement was too presumptuous of Sargeant. But Beckett had been willing to do it if it meant he could inherit the whole ranch and save it from being destroyed by Richard Turner.
Now that there were more stipulations? Beckett shook his head. “Nope. That isn’t fair. You should have informed me before I came all this way.”
“I couldn’t.” Dickinson had the grace to look apologetic. “Sargeant was adamant and had me write down that I could only read the next set of requirements after you got here with your wife.”
Beckett’s muscles stiffened. “Reckon you can take that list and bury it in the bone yard.”
Hyacinth reached for his hand and squeezed his fingers.
Why had she done that?
She was looking up at him expectantly. “We’ve made it this far. We may as well hear out Mr. Dickinson.”
Sargeant had always been a good fella. But he’d also set high standards for everyone who lived on the ranch, including Beckett.
That last spring after Pa’s death, Sargeant hadn’t wanted Beckett to leave.
He’d encouraged him to forgive Pa and see the good in the ranch and the many people it was helping.
At the time, Beckett had been too angry to listen. He’d also been immature, had called Sargeant a few choice names, and had accused him of contributing to the ranch’s problems.
Sargeant had replied calmly and confidently. “Someday, when you have a wife and son, you’ll think differently, and you’ll understand why men build empires—so that they have a way to provide for their families and something to pass along to their children.”
Beckett had scoffed at the man who had raised him. “I’ll never get married, and I’ll never have children.”
“You will.” Sargeant had spoken in that arrogant way of his. “I’ll make sure of it.”
Apparently, Sargeant had meant what he’d said. He’d figured out a way to coerce Beckett into marriage. What else was the man attempting to make Beckett do?
Beckett released Hyacinth’s hand and palmed the back of his neck. “Let’s get this over with, Dickinson. Read the rest of the requirements.”