COURT-APPOINTED MARRIAGE Page 3

  "So what's your brilliant idea? Huh?"

  "First off, we're going to tell our families that we're getting married. If we don't, Judge Willis will, and then there really will be hell to pay. If we do the telling, at least we can defuse things a bit."

  "Good grief, McCormack! That's it? That's all you can come up with? What kind of a dumb plan is that?"

  "Okay, Wonder Woman, you think of something." He gave her a long, lazy look. The kind that suggested he was a blink away from falling asleep. Of course, that wasn't what the man was feeling at all. Over the years, Prudence had come to realize that in times of crisis, the calmer Brice McCormack was on the outside, the more agitated he was on the inside. Of course, the reverse also applied. That meant when he was doing battle-royal with her, Brice McCormack was feeling fit as a fiddle. Blast the man, because when she was in court she was usually tense as a cat at a dog show.

  Prudence sat for a few moments, searching for a solution and feeling totally brain-dead. "So I can't think of anything, either. Maybe when we aren't so addled we'll be able to think of some way out of this. We do have three days."

  "Yeah, and it took God seven days to create the Earth, and that was a piece of cake compared to what we're trying to do. I suppose the best thing is for you to tell your family, and I'll tell mine. That way we can each live to see tomorrow's sunrise. When we think of a way out, we can tell them we changed our minds."

  Prudence exhaled a deep breath. "We can't announce to our families that we're getting married without both of us being there, Brice. If you're not with me when I let out this little piece of news, my family will think either I'm completely off my rocker, or I'm just pulling their leg. Your family will do the same."

  "Actually, they'll just have me committed."

  Brice stretched out his other leg and heaved a deep contented sigh that meant he was anything but. His worn boots needed a shine, his jeans molded his muscular thighs and area right above his thighs. Oh, dear. Prudence didn't care about the boots. She tried not to pay attention to the jeans and the molding. She didn't have much luck.

  Why was she suddenly noticing Brice McCormack—the man—these days? Before, he'd just been Brice pain-in-the-backside, eternal-enemy McCormack. This was all Judge Willis's fault. Until he'd locked her up with Brice, she'd never noticed his molded jeans. At least, she hadn't noticed them the way she was noticing now. This had to stop. She refused to be attracted to a McCormack, especially the very one she disliked the most.

  "We're telling my family first," she said. "Randolph House is only two blocks from here, and I don't want a McCormack phoning Dad, telling him about the marriage. That's exactly what's going to happen if we tell your family first."

  Brice's brown eyes widened. "And you think your family won't call mine, making them madder than a nest full of hornets poked with a stick?"

  Prudence flicked a dust particle from her suit jacket. "Randolphs have better manners than to ever do something like that."

  "I must have forgotten that throwing nails to flatten tires is the epitome of good manners. We'll flip to see which family is told first," he said, disarming her protests as he plucked a fifty-cent coin from the watch pocket of his jeans. "Heads," he called, and flipped the coin in the air, catching it in his right hand. "Ah gee, sorry, Pru." He nodded at the coin showing heads.

  "Huh. You're not sounding too sorry to me."

  "Looks like we'll be visiting the Half-Circle first." He slid the coin back in the little pocket. "Tough break."

  Prudence snorted. This was a red-letter day in tough breaks. She stood, dusting off the back of her skirt. "Well, it's late. I'm getting hungry, cook's fixing pot roast, so let's get on with it, then I can get home to dinner. I sure hope she has something chocolate for dessert. Got any words of wisdom so the McCormacks don't shoot me and throw my carcass over their fence post as a warning to other Randolphs?"

  Brice stretched as he stood, pulling his dark maroon shirt tight over his six-pack stomach and broad chest. Prudence managed to swallow an unexpected whimper of pure appreciation.

  "Well," Brice said, setting his hat more firmly on his head. "Now that you've asked—providing Mamma lets you inside the house at all, go in the living room. That's sure to keep you safe."

  "Why?" Prudence picked up her briefcase. "Is it against McCormack hospitality to shoot Randolphs inside?"

  "Hell, no." Brice picked up his briefcase, and they started down the steps. "McCormacks would just as soon shoot a Randolph in one place as another. But Mamma just got new carpet in the living mom, and she'd be real ticked if someone got Randolph blood all over it. Just don't go in the hall. Carpet there's not worth two cents, and Mamma doesn't give a hoot in hell what happens to it." Brice gave her a quick wink, just as she gave him an elbow in the ribs.

  * * *

  As Brice approached Judge Willis's house, he tried to ignore the spacious, white tent set up on the front lawn, and the bakery, flower and rental trucks lined up in the driveway. He pulled at the starched collar of his tux shirt as he drove his pickup around the side of the house. In spite of all the judge's preparations, Brice was sure he'd never get married today; he'd strangle to death in this ridiculous penguin suit before he ever took the vows. Considering the two events, death wasn't looking so bad.

  How could this be happening? Brice wondered as he parked, then got out of the truck. How could he and Pru—both intelligent people and wizards at thinking up ways to get people out of messes—not have thought of a way to stop their own unwanted marriage and avoid getting their kin tossed in jail? He was early, the ceremony wasn't till four, but he had to see Pru one more time before the judge pronounced them … his brain refused to compute those three little words.

  Brice ran his tongue over his back molar, checking to see if it was still loose from that lucky punch thrown by Pru's uncle Roy after they'd told the Randolphs about the impending marriage. Brice had been ready for the fight of the century, knowing full well he'd probably come out on the short end. Businessmen or not, he suspected he'd have a tough time fending off the whole blamed Randolph family. But when things got ugly, Pru had literally stepped in beside him and stopped the fight before it began—well, except for Roy's one lucky punch. Pru had given Roy hell for that. Seeing someone else on the receiving end of Pru's temper was kind of nice for a change.

  But Brice hadn't really expected her to … rescue him, he realized. After all, she was a Randolph. She probably did it because he'd shushed-up his aunt Rose and cousin Myrtle when he and Pru had told his family about the marriage. He hadn't expected he'd do that. Then again, he couldn't believe his family—except for his mother, of course, who was far more concerned about the condition of her new carpet—thought Pru would actually brainwash him into marriage. They even suspected she'd drugged him so he'd propose to her. Or that she knew some deep dark secret about him and was blackmailing him into marriage. Did they really think she was that desperate for a husband? A woman who looked like Pru wouldn't have to force anyone to marry her. Maybe his family did need therapy.

  Gee, this marriage was off to a terrific start. The feud was worse instead of better. Their families where madder than wet cats at both of them, and they were stuck with each other when they were more used to arguing like cowpokes on a Friday night than simply talking. That's exactly why there couldn't be a marriage, no matter what Judge Willis had decreed.

  Brice left his coat and cummerbund—who in the hell had invented that instrument of torture?—in the truck and crept up close to the house. He wouldn't have worn a tux at all, but he didn't want the stuffy Randolphs to think he didn't know how to dress for the occasion.

  The sun had dipped to the other side of the house where all the activity was, leaving the back in the shadows. The last time he'd talked to Pru, she'd been leaving for the Willises'. Sunny Willis was helping Pru get ready for the big event, something she was looking forward to about as much as he was. Maybe if they talked one more time face-to-face, they could come up with some l
ast-minute save. The trick was to talk to Pru alone. The deliriously happy couple couldn't very well discuss ways of ending their marriage in public or on a phone, where anyone could listen in—and in Serenity everyone listened in to everything.

  As Brice inched along the flower beds, he took care not to trample Sunny's blue and pink pansies and yellow and white daffodils. Her gardens were legendary. He heard voices coming from an open window by the rose arbor bedecked with deep pink rosebuds. It was Sunny's voice.

  Flattening himself against the side of the house, Brice craned his neck and peeked inside. Pru sat on a stool in the middle of the bedroom, staring straight ahead. To the clueless, she might seem lost in love or just sublimely happy. Brice knew it was really heart-stopping terror, because he felt the same way. Sunny was fussing about Pru like a mamma robin around her hatchling.

  When Sunny said she was going to get a steam iron to touch up a few wrinkles in Pru's wedding dress, Brice knew this was his chance. He waited for the door to click shut, then he tapped on the screen. "Psst. Pru. Out here."

  Prudence jerked alert. "Brice?" She came over to the window and gripped the curtain. Desperation covered her face. "You came to tell me you thought of a way out of this, didn't you?"

  "Actually, I came to see if you thought of anything."

  "For heaven's sake, you're the fast-riding, sure-roping cowboy. You think of something."

  "What the hell does riding and roping have to do with getting out of a marriage?"

  "I don't know." She gave a big sigh that seemed to come all the way from her toes and made her shoulders slouch.

  Pru never had slouching shoulders. Brice felt a little sorry for her, though not as sorry as he felt for himself, of course. Then he noticed that her shoulders happened to be … bare. She wore a long white slip that shimmered when she moved, outlined the fullness of her cleavage and skimmed over her hips. How could he have known Pru for twenty-eight years and not noticed these things? Even through the screen he could tell she had skin that glistened like early-morning dew. Her hair was done up in long curls that made her blue eyes seem even larger than usual. She might have been nervous and tense, even discouraged, but she smelled of springtime, wild flowers and warm vanilla.

  To hell with vanilla wafers and pound cake. Right now, Brice wanted nothing more than to nibble Pru's shoulder, her creamy neck and all her other lovely vanilla body parts. He was totally turned on by the woman he was about to marry but didn't want to marry and who certainly didn't want to marry him. How could a marriage be so damn confusing?

  She said, "You do realize that if we get married today we'll have to stay that way until Willis comes to his senses and sees this idiotic marriage idea is only making the feud worse. If we even hint at a divorce before Willis caves in, things will go straight to hell in a handbasket. My family will say it's your fault, your family will say it's mine. I'm not good enough for you, you're not good enough for me. The families will do more battle, and Willis will say it's our fault and go crazy as a cuckoo bird, and Randolphs and McCormacks will all wind up behind bars before the Fourth of July. It's either figure a way out of this marriage now, or we're married till Willis realizes his plan isn't worth sheep dip. Which it isn't. At all." She raised her arms to the ceiling. "We're doomed, Brice. Totally doomed."

  And he was totally doomed, because Pru had the nicest breasts and sexiest shape he'd ever laid eyes on. "Maybe Willis will come around faster than we think." And it would have to be mighty quick, too, because if Brice got excited just standing in front of a window looking at Pru, what would happen when they lived together?

  Nothing, that's what. Because a marriage couldn't change the hostility between him and Pru on a family level or on a personal one. The only answer was to end this blasted marriage before it began.

  Pru suddenly turned away from him, flattened her back to the window, and said, "Sunny, you're back. That didn't take long."

  Sunny laughed. It was a sound that suited her name perfectly and was in direct contrast to Brice's mood. She said, "A little steaming on that beautiful dress of yours made those wrinkles come right out. Lucky for you, Brenda's Bridal Boutique had a dress that was to your liking and only needed to be hemmed and tucked a bit."

  "Thank you for being my matron of honor and putting together this wedding so fast."

  Brice moved away from the window. So much commotion over a wedding that neither the bride nor groom wanted. He crept out of the flower garden, then retrieved his coat and cummerbund from the front seat of his truck. On second thought, he tossed the cummerbund back. Marrying was one thing he had to do, but he didn't have to do it wrapped like a sausage. Think, man, think! How can this wedding be stopped?

  He could hear cars pulling into the driveway as he rounded the side of the picture-perfect ranch house complete with wide front porches, an old wood swing and blooming forsythias, redbuds and dogwoods. All the work trucks were gone, and large white baskets of flowers now lined the driveway. Leading the way to the tent where the ceremony would take place were lattice arches covered with ivy.

  How had Sunny and her husband pulled this shindig together in three days? Incredible. Then again, Brice knew all too well that when Judge Willis set his mind to something, it happened. Nothing and no one got in his way.

  Brice decided that staying hidden in the shadows of the house until the wedding began was a good idea, because his arrival would be like gasoline thrown on a smoldering fire. He watched McCormacks and Randolphs walk through the arches and take seats in the tent. He and Pru had agreed not to involve any other family in the marriage, except for Brice's having his brother as best man. That would keep confrontations to a minimum. Maybe.

  The custom of families sitting on opposite sides during the wedding was convenient; it would help keep peace during the ceremony. The reception, where people mixed and mingled, would be another story. Brice intended to make this the shortest, fastest reception in Texas history—cut cake, eat cake, go home.

  Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of his mother, dressed in her favorite colors of pale blue and yellow, and Derek getting out of his new Bronco. As always, Mamma was an ace at rolling with the punches, and would wish him well if he'd chosen to marry Attila the Hun—as long as Attila didn't muddy up her house or try to run off with her secret apple butter recipe. Mamma was a homemaker of the first order, ran the McCormack house with expert precision and always had complete confidence in Brice to do what was right for the family and the ranch. Her confidence in him was unfailing, just as was his confidence in her, and he was eternally grateful for her not questioning him now when he needed her support the most.

  Younger brothers were also great to have around in times of crisis, Brice decided as he watched Derek take his mother's arm. They would do stuff for you, like dress up in uncomfortable clothes and be your best man without asking a million questions. And on top of it all, they considered it all a huge honor.

  Brice watched Derek escort their mother into the tent, then come back outside, obviously looking for him. He stepped out of the shadows, and Derek jogged over.

  "Hey, brother. How you holding up? You're looking calm enough, which means you're in a mighty big panic."

  "Thanks for the observation."

  Derek grinned. "Not every day a McCormack marries a Randolph."

  "You're enjoying seeing me sweat, aren't you."

  Derek's grin broadened, and he stuffed his hands into the pants pockets. He wore a tux well. Derek wore everything well. Every female in Serenity would readily attest to that. Derek rocked back on his heels and said, "Good to see you sweating over a woman for a change, instead of me. I bet right now hearts all over Texas are busting wide open 'cause Brice McCormack's being taken off the market."

  "I wasn't involved with that many hearts."

  Derek arched his brow. "Why that's a damn shame, brother of mine. But the Half-Circle and family can do that to a guy—keep him too busy for anything else." Derek winked. "’Cept me, of course." Dere
k's grin grew. "But then, I'm not head honcho of everything McCormack like you are. Personally, I'd rather direct my attentions to the idea of 'so many women, so little time' than the idea of profit and loss."

  Brice shook his head. "Cattlemen and farmers, lock up your womenfolk. Derek McCormack's on the loose."

  "Damn straight."

  Some small part of Brice could remember when he felt that way, too. When his father was in charge and the Half-Circle was his to run and worry over. But that was a lifetime ago, before Dad died, before his uncles had young families and couldn't manage a growing spread and oil business to boot, before he'd taken over the lion's share of work and family responsibilities.

  That's why deep down, he'd pretty much accepted the fact that marriage was out. No woman would understand the constant family demands made on him … except … Pru. Now, that was an interesting thought.

  "Go find Willis and help him keep a lid on this place till Pru and I get this marriage done and over with, okay?"

  Derek gave Brice a questioning look. "Done and over with? You sure are anxious to tie the knot." A little twinkle sparked in Derek's eyes. "Then again, Prudence is a mighty fine-looking gal, Randolph or not. I can see why you just couldn't keep your hands off a pretty little package like that."

  Brice's insides clenched, remembering just how pretty a package Pru really was. Of course, that didn't matter to him. Eventually Willis would wise up and see the marriage idea was bad. Then he and Pru could slowly and carefully dissolve their marriage so as not to cause more Randolph-McCormack discord, and everything would go back to the way it had been for the past seventy years.

  For the moment, Derek seemed to be content to just stare at Brice, enjoying his misery. "Can you get a move on, little brother? Make yourself useful as well as ornamental?"

  "Don't go snorting around like a bull at breeding time. You got all your life to spend with Prudence. I gotta tell you, though, never in a million years would I have expected you two to get hitched, the way you're always snarling around each other. Fact is, it sometimes seemed that Prudence would go out of her way to pick a fight with you. Never would have guessed it to be a smoke screen for true love."