The Maverick Meets His Match (Hearts of Wyoming Book 2)(34)

During the last days of his life, she’d read to him from the pages of Anne of Green Gables. When she’d been young, he’d bought her the book and insisted she read it aloud to him in the evening so she could practice her reading. They’d laugh over Anne’s stubborn, feisty ways. JM had said he’d chosen the novel for her because Mandy had reminded him of Anne.

She’d kept the book, and as his condition deteriorated, she’d sit and read to him as he listened with his eyes closed, a smile on his frail face. She’d just reached the part where Matthew had died…and the next day, so had JM.

Tears burned the back of her eyes. Her throat constricted. Her chest labored to breathe. She scrunched her body in a tighter curl.

She’d never hear JM say her name again, never feel his warm hand on her shoulder, never see that twinkle in his eye. She’d never again talk with him or ask him the thousand questions she’d yet to think of about running PRC. She’d never again be able to tell him she loved him.

Or ask him why he had done this to her.

To hurt her? Her grandfather had never been cruel in his life.

To teach her a lesson? For the life of her she couldn’t understand what he wanted her to learn.

To break her spirit? Because that’s what it was doing.

This was her wedding night. And circumstances had made it one of the saddest nights among several in her young life.

She hadn’t meant to cry again. She hadn’t meant to sob. She hadn’t meant to feel sorry for herself. But she no longer had the fortitude to fight the loneliness and stubborn ache that continued to dog her since the funeral. She turned her face into the softness of the musty pillow and, with the escape of one muffled sob, she lost the struggle.

Ty heard the first garbled choke and prayed it wasn’t what he thought. But stifled as the sound was, he knew his prayer wasn’t going to be answered.

Mandy was crying.

On their wedding night.

Even if this was a sham of a marriage, each sob felt like a knife was being plunged through his gut. He was at least partially to blame, if for nothing else than being a tool in JM’s crazy proposition and convincing her to go through with it.

Why had JM wanted this for either of them? That question just wouldn’t be answered by any logic he could come up with.

He could tell by the dampened bursts of sound she was trying to stop the waterworks, trying to conceal them. It hit him that Mandy had hardly had time to breathe these last few days, much less grieve. And here she was staying in her grandfather’s house, knowing she’d agreed to this marriage in part to keep it in the family. The memories alone had to be tough.

He counted the seconds as the muted sobs continued. He didn’t get past sixty before he was out of bed, the breeze from the open window nipping at his skin as he padded the short distance to where she lay.

Taking a deep breath, he squatted on the edge of the mattress, glad the lack of light would conceal his state of undress. And the degree of his arousal. Her rose-tinged scent surrounded him.

She didn’t move as he slid down next to her, spooning against her back with only the coverlet separating them. He shifted his hips so his hardened flesh wouldn’t touch her. Despite everything tonight, he hadn’t yet been able to tame his lust for her. The need was so strong he wasn’t sure even her tears could do the trick.

He struggled for something to say that would provide comfort, but nothing profound came to him. “I’m sure this is rough for you.” She didn’t move a muscle as he wrapped an arm around her, careful to aim for the safe territory of her waist. She didn’t answer. Only a strangled sob.

“You don’t have to hide your tears from me, Mandy. You’re entitled. God knows you’ve got enough to cry about.”

He tugged her, pulling her around to face him. She didn’t resist but buried her damp face in the bare flesh of his shoulder and wept.

He hugged her to him, mindful not to spook her by pulling her too close to certain parts of his body and grateful for even the thin shield the cover afforded.

“Let it out, honey. You’re safe.”

He felt the tremors as the sobs broke, as the tears wet his chest, as her moist breath teased his skin.

This was no time to come on to a woman, and yet, his body wasn’t listening. Holding her close in his arms under the cloak of darkness in the bed’s narrow confines had his veins thrumming and his blood hot. He couldn’t help but note they fit damn well together.

He felt undone as Mandy tearfully quivered in his arms. He was in uncharted waters, for sure. He’d never held a crying woman. His mother had cried a lot before she’d gone to the hospital, never to return. He’d only been ten at the time, hadn’t understood the reasons, and in all his father’s remaining years, he hadn’t enlightened Ty beyond saying his mother had been ill.

John Martin hadn’t been a very open man. He’d kept things in, didn’t show much emotion. Ty never could tell what the man was thinking, and the man never said.

Ty had a good idea what Mandy was thinking. That she should have never agreed to this arrangement. That she missed her grandfather. That Ty wasn’t the man she wanted to marry, even if it was for six months. That she wanted her company back.

He wished he could convince her it would be worth it in the end. She wouldn’t believe him, but as much as he had his own agenda for being there, it wasn’t to hurt Mandy. Business-wise, he intended to leave the Prescott family finances in a strong position, whether from the proceeds of a sale or the income from an agreement with the AFBR and a stream of rodeo contracts. He was committed to making that happen for JM and for Mandy. And maybe in the process he could prove to Mandy he wasn’t quite the bastard she thought he was. Maybe they could enjoy each other during this time. Leave as friends instead of enemies, laugh about having been married to each other “back in the day.”