Love at Any Cost (41 page)

“I knew it!” She attempted to twist free, arms flailing to no avail when his grip tightened all the more. “You're every bit the flea-bitten skunk I knew you were, Jamie MacKenna—”

“Yes, I
was
,” he emphasized strongly, his gaze probing hers. He loosened his grip when she stopped thrashing. “But I'm not that man anymore, Cass, I promise.”

“Ha! You promised a lot of things, Pretty Boy, with your kisses and your charm, but all I had to show for it was a heart stomped on by a low-down polecat who claimed to be my friend.”

“I
am
your friend,” he said, his calm demeanor dissipating somewhat. He drew in a deep breath while his thumb circled her palm. “But now I want more.”

She jerked free and shot to her feet, slapping her hands to her hips. “Ohhhhh, no you don't, City Boy. I may be a country
girl, but I'm not some dumb cluck born in a chicken coop. I'm not about to agree to court you a second time, you snake-bellied boll weevil!”

He slowly rose, towering over her by an entire foot while he mirrored her pose to a T, hands slung low on his hips and eyes snapping. “That's real good, Cowgirl, because trust me—the last thing I want to do is to court a girl like you.”

Stunned by his barb, she blinked hard to fight the tears and raised her hand, ready to haul off and smack him silly.

He clasped her wrist midair, taunting her with that exasperating grin. “Nope, I want to flat-out marry you, Cassidy McClare,” he breathed, eyes intense as he gently tugged her close. The heat in his eyes did funny things to her stomach, sealing the air—and her words. “The sooner, the better,” he whispered, his voice warm in her ear.

She tried to blink but couldn't, every muscle paralyzed.

“I love you, Cass,” he said, pulling back to trace his fingers along the curve of her face. “I think I have from that first night in this very room, when you called me a conniving womanizer and pesky hornet.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, and all at once, his smile faded along with his voice, lowering to a husky whisper. “I need you in my life, Cass . . .” Her stomach dipped when he leaned in.

She shook off her stupor before his lips could take hers. “Whoa, you hold it right there, City Boy!” Slamming two palms to his chest, she shoved him back, heart stuttering at what the polecat was trying to do. “That's mighty convenient, you yellow-belly fortune-hunter, just as my daddy's wells are pumping again.”

“What?” Jamie stared, the blood leeching from his face. “Wait, Cass, no . . .”

She jerked away, arms folded tight. “And don't act like you didn't know, you wolf in sheep's clothing.”

Slacking a leg, he braced hands low on his hips, jaw like rock except for the pulse of a single nerve. “No, I'm not going to ‘act' like I don't know,” he said, mimicking her, “because I do, but the fact is I broke it off with Patricia long before I found out about your father's wells, so you can just hang that gun up along with those Texas spurs you're so anxious to dig in my hide.”

Her jaw shot up, frustration crawling at the way her anger was on the thaw. Great balls of fire, she couldn't afford to be hoodwinked by another no-good louse who was lower than a snake belly in a wagon rut, no matter how weak in the knees—
or
head—he made her! “Ha! And I'm supposed to believe you?”

He let loose with a heavy blast of air, smile flat. “No, I don't expect you to believe me, because frankly I wouldn't believe me either. But I am asking you to believe Bram and Alli or even your uncle, because they'll all confirm it's true.”

She felt the barest waver of her jaw and locked her arms closer. “Even so, Jamie MacKenna, I'm not sure I can ever trust you again or . . . or . . . even want to.”

Her breath caught at the barest curve of his smile when he slowly reeled her into his arms. “Oh, you want to, Cass,” he whispered, “'cause you're as crazy over me as I am 'bout you, so don't try to deny it.” His gaze dropped to her lips and her stomach looped when he leaned in.

She quickly ducked, avoiding his kiss with hands splayed hard to his chest. “Even so, Jamie, I'm sorry, truly, but nothing's changed.” Twisting free, she stepped back to clutch her sides once again. “You say you love me, but you chose Patricia because my father was poor, and if that wasn't enough, you turned your back on God as well as me.”

With a noisy exhale, he dropped his head to knead the bridge of his nose. “You're right, I did choose Patricia, but not because I didn't love you.” He plunged his hands in his pockets, pausing before he spoke. “You knew my sister was crippled, Cass, but what you didn't know was . . . I was to blame.” He closed his eyes then, while a nerve vibrated his cheek, his voice a low monotone threaded with pain as he slowly divulged all that Alli had confided to her in this very room so many months ago. From Jamie's intense desire to provide a surgery for his sister to his unwavering resolve to marry well, the truth spilled from his lips in a raspy confession rife with shame and regret.

Exhaling hard, he twined his fingers with hers and tugged her to sit down next to him, finally shifting to face her while he held her hands in his. “I was stupid, Cass, and I'm asking you to forgive me. When Patricia told me your father lost his money that day in Napa, I panicked, thinking my dreams for Jess, the desire of my heart to see her well, would never come to pass unless
I
could bring it about.” He shook his head. “Ironically, it was Jess herself who convinced me that there's only one way the desires of our heart can ever be met. She flat-out refused the surgery unless I trusted God to bring it to pass—not Patricia or her father.” He sighed. “So I did, and she was right. God did it.”

Cass swallowed hard and placed her hand over his. “Alli wrote me about the surgery, and I'm happy for you and your family, Jamie, truly.”

He glanced up, a faint smile on his lips. “But not ‘happy' with me.”

Her cheeks warmed as she removed her hand. “No, not at the time.”

He cupped a palm to her face with a rare humility in his eyes. “I was wrong, Cass, about so many things. About God, about
you, and about me, thinking my happiness and that of my family depended on me. Jess convinced me otherwise, and I thank God, because if she hadn't, I would have married the wrong woman and never had the faith to know just how much God loves me.” A muscle jerked in his throat. “Nor the faith to know just how much I need him.” He caressed her with his eyes. “And you.”

Cassie's breath hitched along with her pulse. “Faith?” she whispered, barely able to believe she'd heard correctly. “Y-you have f-faith?”

He grinned. “As solid as the wood in my head.”

“Oh, Jamie . . .” Her hands flew to her mouth, as if poised in prayer, and then she lunged into his arms so hard, it jolted him back.

His chuckle tickled her ear. “I was hoping that would be your response, Sugar Pie, which brings me to the terms of our bet tonight—the one that you lost, if you remember.”

She swallowed hard, not sure what the man had in mind. “Yes?”

His dimples deepened. “You lost, Miss McClare, which means I won, and God willing, it'll be the biggest win of my life.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled something out and slowly slipped to his knees. She gasped when he placed a ring on the tip of her finger, a question in his gaze before he slid it all the way on. “I'm in love with you, Cass,” he said softly, “and it may have been you who took a tumble that day at the train, but I was the one who fell hard. So in the dead-center words of a Texas McClare, Cowgirl, I've been a horse's hindquarter, and I'm hoping you'll forgive me and say yes to hog-tying us together for the rest of our lives.”

“Oh, Jamie!” Moisture welled while she gently touched the ring, a watercolor blur of green and gold, as he carefully eased it all the way on. Blinking hard, her breath caught when the most
beautiful ring in the world came into focus—a delicate band with a square emerald circled by tiny diamonds. She looked closer and blinked. “Goodness, I can't believe it,” she whispered. “My nana had a ring just like this.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

“You know?” Cassie teetered on the edge of the couch, face in a squint as she brushed at the wetness now glazing her cheek. “But how could you possibly know?”

“Uh, Cass, maybe you better sit back.” He tugged her farther into the couch, buffing her arms while he paused, a trace of trepidation edging his tone. “It
is
your grandmother's ring.”

She blinked, whirling to face him. “But I don't understand—how did you get it? It belongs to Blake.”

“Blake?”

Her face screwed in a frown. “Yes, of course—Nana's first and only grandson—Uncle Logan is supposed to give it to him when he takes a wife.”

Jamie skimmed a finger along the inside of his collar, color seeping up his throat. “Yeah, well about that . . .”

She shot to her feet, hands back on her hips. “Jamie MacKenna, if you won this ring from Blake in a bet—”

He jumped up and gripped her arms. “No, Cass, I swear—the ring belongs to me.”

She folded her arms and stepped back, toe tapping. “Now how in the name of Sam Houston can my grandmother's ring belong to you, and where in the world did you get it?”

With a grit of his teeth, he shook his head. “This isn't going to be easy . . .”

Her eyes narrowed. “So help me, MacKenna, if you don't spit it out right now . . .”

He hesitated, finally exhaling a noisy breath. “All right, I will.”
His chest expanded with the apparent need for more air before he released it again. “My father gave it to me.”

She folded her arms with a tilt of her head. “Your father,” she said, tone as flat as her lips. She angled a brow. “Brian MacKenna?”

“No,” he said carefully, head bent but eyes fixed as if anticipating her response. “My real father—Logan McClare.”

Paralysis struck, his words welding her to the spot and petrifying everything in her body—lashes, limbs, brain, breath—right on down to the pulse at the hollow of her throat.

He chuckled, drawing her close to tuck her into his arms. “I'm afraid my reaction was a bit more vocal.”

She lurched away, palm quivering against his chest. “But how? When?”

Massaging her arms, he told her the whole impossible tale, finishing with his and Logan's vow to keep the silence for the time being, except for Bram and her. Even her parents weren't to know until the time was right, although they'd already given Jamie their consent at a private meeting arranged by Logan.

Cassie couldn't have been more stunned if she'd been bucked from a horse. “Good grief, my parents knew you were going to propose? But Daddy threatened to brand you!”

His smile was close to a grimace as he drew air through clenched teeth, finger tugging at the inside of his collar. “Yeah, I know, but I explained everything just like I did to you, and then Logan vouched for me as well.” The strain in his face eased into a grin. “And when I told them that I flat-out couldn't live without you anymore, Cowgirl, they pretty much just up and handed you over.”

She fought the squirm of her lips. “Oh, they did, did they?” Her chin notched up as her brows arched in a tease. “And just who else knows about this conspiracy, City Boy?”

He gave her a sheepish smile. “Pretty much everyone, Sugar Pie, including Miss B.”

She angled a brow. “Awfully sure of yourself, were you?”

His eyelids shuttered halfway as he slowly leaned in to nuzzle her ear. “Well, I knew if I could get this close, Cowgirl, I was pretty much home free . . .”

She batted him away. “Jamie MacKenna, you are nothing but a pretty-boy womaniz—”

He silenced her with a kiss that could have curled her boots. Easing her back against the sofa, he explored her mouth with his own, eliciting a groan that made the man chuckle. “We sure have some chemistry, Cuz, if I say so myself.”

She jerked from his arms. “Oh, sweet sanctity of family—we're cousins!” she whispered, body limp from the shock.

Jamie lifted her open jaw, caressing her lips with the pad of his thumb. “In name only, Cass, not blood.” He brushed a curl from her face while he exhaled a heavy sigh. “Why didn't you ever tell me you were adopted?”

She blinked. “I . . . don't suppose I ever really thought much about it. Daddy's always been there for Mama and me since I was a baby, so I tend to think of him as my real father.”

“Well, never in all my born days have I been happier to hear someone was adopted, let me tell you, Cassidy McClare.” Gaze flitting to her lips, he swallowed hard and rose, extending his hand with an off-center smile. “Uh . . . maybe we better join the others before I'm tempted to take advantage of that ring on your hand.”

He led her to the door and stopped, one palm on the knob while the other slowly nudged her to the wall. He traced the shape of her face with tender fingers. “I love you, Cassidy McClare,” he whispered, “and you need to know the pretty-boy womanizer is dead and gone. From now on, I'm on the straight and narrow,
doing things
his
way—safe and proper.” His eyes strayed to her lips while a muscle dipped in his throat. “But I think it's only fair to warn you, Cowgirl—I don't cotton to a long engagement.” With a sweet catch of her breath, he caressed her mouth with his own, palm cradling her jaw while he took his time with a slow, deliberate kiss. He finally pulled away, his breathing ragged and his eyes as glazed as hers. A grin inched its way across his lips as he deposited a kiss to the tip of her nose. “Kind of gives a whole new meaning to the term ‘kissing cousins,' doesn't it?” he whispered, mouth trailing her jaw to suckle her ear.

Her eyes drifted closed, his touch all but melting the bones in her body. “Oh, sweet Texas tea,” she whispered, sigh shaky and stomach awhirl. “It most certainly does.”