Bargain With The Devil Part 6

"You displayed so little interest in the event, I decided not to consult you about the details," Hunter informed her, halting the car next to Eric's.

Leana, standing on the church steps, chatting with the minister, saw her first, and Stacy winced inwardly as her sister-in-law's eyes widened at the sight of her clothes. Then the lovely blue eyes went to Hunter, and Stacy knew that Leana was still building fantasies around the man.

The knowledge fortified her resolve. Eric's lovely wife would have been easy prey for Hunter Manning. A second later Eric turned and saw her, and his eyes, too, flickered disapprovingly over her clothes, and then a slow, resigned grin crossed his handsome face.

"Good old Stacy," he groaned affectionately, coming forward to drop a brotherly kiss on his sister's forehead. "Trust her to set a new style for brides this year!"

"Gracious, Stacy," Leana murmured, clearly a little shocked, al-though she had known her sister-in-law for several months now, "I would have been happy to help you select a dress more suitable for the occasion. Hunter looks fabulous, and you look " Words failed her in that moment.

"She looks like Stacy," Hunter finished for her smoothly. "I imagine I should be grateful she at least arranged to take the rest of the day off work!" There was rueful acceptance in his voice of Stacy's unpredictability, although the hand under her arm gripped quite fiercely. Stacy had the uneasy impression he was almost de-fending her!

The wedding ceremony, held in a small chapel, went smoothly, almost too quickly, Stacy decided, considering the hidden agree-ments involved between the two parties. But the minister could hardly be expected to know what sort of bargain he was sealing, she told herself as the final words were said and Hunter turned to carry out the traditional kiss.

Instead of taking her gently in his arms, however, he planted a hand firmly on each side of her face, framing her searching green eyes and tremulous mouth.

"h.e.l.lo, Stacy Manning," he whispered, and then he took her lips in a short, hard, decisive kiss that was over almost as soon as it had begun but which left her mouth stinging painfully.

Hunter brushed off Eric's offer to take the new couple out for dinner, saying that he wanted to be alone with his wife. There was such obvious male intent in the purposeful gray eyes that Eric laughed knowingly, collected Leana, and left. As they drove off, Leana's eyes rested lingeringly, wistfully on Hunter, who ignored her completely.

"So now you are legally a Manning," Hunter grated softly in Stacy's ear as he a.s.sisted her into the car a few moments later. She heard the satisfaction in his voice and shot him a swift sideways glance. He looked harshly pleased with his bargain.

"Just remember that you agreed to this as full payment for what you feel my family owes you," Stacy said quietly as he started the car and pulled out of the small church lot.

"And you keep in mind that you paid the price willingly," he snapped back roughly, his eyes on the traffic. "There will be no go-ing back for either of us!"

Stacy affected a disinterested shrug, although her hands were tightly clenched in her lap. She had gotten this far, but what would happen when he finally discovered the truth? She would be the only one on whom he could vent his wrath, and she felt certain it would be terrible.

"I was going to take you out to dinner," he told her, "but I think we'll go on home instead. You're not dressed for the place I had in mind, and I'm certainly not dressed for your kind of restaurant! We'll stop at the store and you can buy some roots and berries or whatever it is you want for dinner."

"And you'll pick out a steak for yourself?" she retorted, becom-ing mildly irritated at the humorous way he viewed her diet.

"Exactly. Perhaps we'll be able to share the salad!"

"You don't think I could cook a meal you'd enjoy?" she grum-bled, vaguely pleased to have something else to talk about than the reasons for this marriage. Anything to take her mind off the forth-coming disaster!

"Not if that tea you served me the first night was any sample."

"Hardly a basis on which to judge a whole diet plan!"

He threw her a mocking, derisive glance. "You want to try cook-ing a meal I'll be willing to eat? Okay, I'll take you up on the chal-lenge, but I'm going to buy the steak, anyway, just in case!"

They made an odd sight, Stacy thought later as she , pushed a shopping cart through the aisles. The tall, dark, elegantly dressed man and the somewhat rumpled-looking young woman in jeans. Who would believe this was their wedding day? The unreality of the whole thing helped, she realized as she selected produce while Hunter watched critically. It was easier to keep from losing control and screaming to the world that it was all a huge mistake! Her mouth twisted wryly with her thoughts as she handed a plump tomato to Hunter, who dutifully bagged it.

"I think that about does it," she said reflectively, surveying the contents of the shopping cart.

"Except for my steak. I'll be right back!" Hunter disappeared up the aisle to return shortly, bearing his plastic-wrapped meat with a triumphant expression.

"You don't have to look as if you just went out and shot it your-self," Stacy told him indignantly.

One dark brow quirked upward sardonically as he dropped his package into the cart, but he said nothing, merely smiling wickedly.

The kitchen in Hunter's home proved something of a surprise. Stacy took a strange delight in all the beautiful new appliances and the endless counter s.p.a.ce as she unpacked the shopping bags. The one time she had visited the house earlier in the week and made her hurried, dutiful inspection she hadn't really examined this room.

"What do you think?" Hunter asked quietly from behind her. He had left her to change his clothes while she unpacked, but now he leaned casually in the doorway, watching her. "Will you be able to cook your nuts and berries in this kitchen?"

She turned her head to make a flippant comment, but something in his eyes stopped her words. He was really asking how she liked her new home, Stacy realized with a start, and there was a totally unexpected vulnerability in those cloudy eyes. As if he would take the answer very personally.

"You have a beautiful home, Hunter," she told him a little stiffly, lowering her eyes to the lettuce she was cleaning. "And the kitchen is magnificent." Feeling a need to elaborate, she went on carefully, "I've never seen one so perfectly planned. Usually the top shelves are way out of reach for most women, and they almost never put real pantries in homes anymore!" d.a.m.n! Why was she bothering to be complimentary?

"And the rest of the house?" he prompted. "You took such a quick tour the other day, I was afraid you were turned off by the modern aspect...."

Stacy glanced up, startled. "It doesn't strike me as being overly modern," she said quickly, frowning in thought. "Certainly not in a sterile way. Your architect kept the best of the Spanish look without making the place dark and heavy. And that little courtyard in .the center is charming. I can see it now all planted with flowers and shrubs." A small, unconscious smile touched her lips as she consid-ered what would grow best in the well-proportioned courtyard around which the rest of the house was built.

"No," she concluded with a decisive little nod as she went back to work on the lettuce. "Whoever designed the place did a fabulous job."

"Thank you," he murmured modestly.

Stacy swung around in astonishment and saw the self-deprecating grin.

"You designed it?" she asked in astonishment.

"Does that surprise you?" he inquired gently, folding his arms across his chest and continuing to lean negligently against the jamb. One brow was arched in a laconic way.

She thought about the name of his company, Manning Develop-ment Corporation. "I suppose I a.s.sumed you were strictly the busi-ness brains of the outfit," she confessed, gesturing vaguely with the paring knife in her hand. "I figured you bought and sold land and hired others to do the architecture and construction on it...."

"I do." He smiled. "But in the early years I had to do a lot of my own design work until the company was established and growing. I'm not so involved in it anymore, naturally, but I still enjoy design-ing, and when I decided to build my own home, I wanted to do it all myself."

Stacy smiled involuntarily. "I know the feeling!"

"Of wanting to do things in your own way?" he said softly.

She nodded, thinking of how she had been forced to fight her family every inch of the way to achieve that goal. "Sometimes others are so certain they know what's best for you, and when you don't follow their wishes " She broke off hurriedly. She mustn't say too much about that. He might realize... "Here," she said firmly, "finish washing the lettuce while I start the pasta." She thrust the head of lettuce into his hands and went to the cupboard to dig out a large bowl.

"I'm glad," Hunter stated some time later as he poured Stacy a second gla.s.s of the fine red wine he'd produced, "that your dietary restrictions don't extend to wine."

"Why should they?" she chuckled. "There's not an ounce of meat in a good gla.s.s of wine!" She lifted her eyes to meet his across the width of the hardwood dining table. "Speaking of which, aren't you going to admit you didn't even miss your b.l.o.o.d.y steak tonight?"

"The facts speak for themselves, don't they?" He smiled, forking up the last of his fettuccine. "I've had two complete helpings of everything! Mind you, I'm not about to forsake a lifetime of meat-eating, but with cooking like this, I might be persuaded to vary my habits from time to time...."

He smiled into Stacy's eye* and she had the most peculiar im-pression of being on the verge of getting lost in the foggy mists of his gaze. It wasn't the first time she'd had the uneasy experience, but she was far from used to it. He looked as if he were about to say something else, something important, when the phone rang, breaking off the crucial moment as if it had been made of gla.s.s.

Even as he reached for the conveniently located dining room ex-tension phone, Stacy felt herself growing cold. Intuition told her who would be on the other end of the line as clearly as if she could actu-ally hear her father's deep, authoritative voice. She had a timeless instant of longing during which she would have paid any price, en-tered into any bargain, if it would have forestalled that call. There had been a strangely unexpected, cautious hope in the atmosphere between herself and Hunter this evening and now it was all about to be destroyed.

Well, she chided herself as Hunter spoke briefly with an overseas operator, what had she expected? This marriage was a bargain with the devil, and the devil was on the verge of discovering he had been cheated. She set her fork down with exaggerated care and watched as her husband's face slowly hardened into the arrogant, uncompromis-ing lines she knew so thoroughly. He had realized who was calling.

"h.e.l.lo, Rylan," Hunter said with a cold, fathomless quiet. "I've been expecting to hear from you." The gray gaze met Stacy's green one as Hunter listened to his father-in-law in silence. She saw the bleak, stirring storm clouds and knew whatever small hope had flickered in her this evening was well and truly being extinguished by the prospect of facing the full fury of her devil's thunder.

The conversation didn't last long. Hunter said very little, and Stacy knew he was exerting that disturbing self-control of his to its utmost. Only the deepening fog of his eyes and the taut lines of his face gave any indication of the force of his emotions. Stacy could do nothing but wait, her fingers twisted tightly together, green eyes full of wariness and determination. She had come this far and she would not run now. Besides, she told herself dismally, there wouldn't be much point. Hunter would not allow the one Rylan in his power to go free after this.

"Thank you," Hunter said at last into the phone with such icy contempt that Stacy swallowed in nervous response, "for your good wishes. I will convey them to my wife." Stacy heard the emphatic stress on the last word and her fingers trembled ever so slightly. The phone was replaced in its cradle with far too much care. Hunter's eyes never left Stacy's bloodless face. He seemed as fascinated with her very still, very strained expression as she was with his cold and distant anger.

Unable to bear the awful silence and knowing she must make plain her own determination to force Hunter to stand by his bargain, Stacy spoke first.

"So now you know the truth," she said quietly, her chin lifting in unconscious defiance. "When you made the bargain with me, you attacked my father at one of his least vulnerable points."

"And you knew," Hunter returned with ominous restraint in every word, "when you agreed to the marriage, that Paul J. Ry-lan.would quite cheerfully see his only daughter thrown to the wolf."

"It's it's not that bad," Stacy defended herself. "He's actually paying me a compliment. He's learned over the years that I'm capa-ble of taking care of myself, so he's going to let me do exactly that. The feeling is mutual. If you had said you were going after him di-rectly, I would have stayed out of the battle. He's tough and he's smart."

"But when you realized I was going to attack him through Eric and Leana..." Hunter drawled, eyes narrowing slightly as he consid-ered his tense wife.

"You had, with unerring instinct, found the family's weakest point. I couldn't talk you out of it, so there wasn't much else to do but try and convince you I represented an even more vulnerable point."

"Did you know your father would call tonight?" Hunter pushed his plate aside and leaned forward, his arms folded on the table. There was such frighteningly detached speculation in those fog-filled eyes that Stacy wanted to do anything, say anything, to push him over the edge of his self-control. It was her nature to want to get through the worst as quickly as possible. But Hunter would never allow that. Part of the punishment would be the painful buildup of tension and menace.

"I had a feeling he'd be in touch rather quickly, if only to let you know you'd failed," she admitted softly. "I had a night letter from him yesterday in which he did perform his parental duty and warn me not to have any illusions about the marriage."

Stacy's fingers untwisted long enough for her to dig the crumpled piec.e of paper out of her back pocket. She tossed it down on the table before Hunter and watched as he picked it up and read it. Her father's words burned through her mind once again. "Look in the mirror, girL He's not marrying you for your looks or your social polish, and I can guarantee he'll never be able to love a Rylan."

Hunter finished scanning the brief message, crumpled the letter in one fist, and looked up again, his expression coolly challenging. "But you, of course, had never had any illusions from the begin-ning."

"Hardly," she got out evenly. "What exactly did my father say?"

"In the briefest terms, he told me he was aware of the reason I'd married you. That he hadn't forgotten my 'dramatics' of fourteen years ago, although he'd expected something less primitive in re-taliation than carrying off his daughter. But, he a.s.sured me, if I could tolerate a stubborn, ill-tempered, ungovernable woman who would make precisely the wrong sort of wife for a man in my position, I was welcome to her," Hunter told her succinctly. "He concluded by wishing me joy in my marriage and in my revenge, and he told me not to come whining to him like I did fourteen years ago when I want to get out of the mess. I got the impression," Hunter finished with a twist to the corner of his hard mouth, "that he thinks we deserve each other."

Stacy winced inwardly at the cruel words. She could almost hear her father saying them. But it was too late for both herself and Hunter; and she must make certain her husband understood.

"I told you not to expect any happiness from revenge," she whis-pered bravely, refusing to lower her eyes before the unfathomable pools of gray mist. "But you were so certain this was what you wanted. Well, you're stuck with your so-clever deal now, Hunter. You gave me your word that regardless of the success of your plans, you would consider the marriage full payment."

"What makes you think I'll feel obligated to honor my end of the bargain under the present circ.u.mstances?" he demanded remotely, one near-black brow lifting quellingly.

Stacy frowned slightly. "You promised," she reminded him.

"And you think that promise will bind me?" he prodded with lazy interest.

"Yes," she nodded resolutely. "I know you're furious, but you gave me your word. There's nothing you can do." She didn't for the life of her know what made her so certain of that, but she was.

"You're going to hold me to it?"

"Yes," she said again with fierce determination.

There was an instant's taut silence and then Hunter said in a tone of grim consideration, "Fourteen years ago I decided your father was a ruthless, scheming, arrogant b.a.s.t.a.r.d. But it wasn't until today that I realized he was a fool."

"What what are you talking about?" Stacy was startled at the unexpected p.r.o.nouncement.

"He's consigned to Hades the one member of the Rylan clan who shares his own arrogance and determination. Your mother, your sister-in-law, your brother, none of them would have been rash enough to try striking any kind of bargain with me the way you did that night on the patio. They would have turned the problem imme-diately over to Paul J. Rylan. Only someone with a full quota of Rylan audacity would challenge the devil. And the devil accepted the challenge."

Hunter got to his feet in a movement of coordinated power that made Stacy suddenly frightened in a way she had never been before. But she would not, could not run, so she did the only thing possible. She stood up to face her ominous-eyed husband, the width of the table between them.

For a long moment Hunter made no move to circle the obstacle. Instead he studied Stacy's slender, defiant form, his eyes sweeping over the slightly tousled red-brown hair clamped in a knot, the bright splash of color in her flower-patterned shirt, and the faded, tight-fitting jeans. Then his purposeful gaze settled on her taut features, and the green eyes clashed bravely with his own cloudy ones.

"Paul Rylan doesn't even have the sense to realize what he's lost," Hunter grated softly, watching intently as Stacy's hands flat-tened palms-down on the table in front of her as if she would brace herself. "But I'm aware of what I've stolen from the Rylans. The revenge has suddenly become a very subtle thing indeed."

"Are are you going to tell my father what you had planned to do to my brother and Leana?" Stacy forced herself to ask.

"There's not much point. I doubt he'd believe me now. No, you chose to take it on yourself to pay for what the Rylans did to my family, and you say you're going to hold me to my word. Very well, I'm prepared to accept my stubborn, ill-tempered, and ungovernable witch bride as payment in full."

He was around the table in a few short strides, his hands reaching out to seize Stacy by the shoulder even as she involuntarily tried to back-away. He drew her close, his fingers like iron on her shoulder. She looked up into his grimly intent, ruthless face and without much real hope tried one last bargain.

"Hunter, my father was right. You don't love me. Must we go through with this part of the marriage? Isn't it enough that you tied me to you legally? You'll have your revenge on me in a thousand little ways every day that I'm forced to stay with you. It's already begun. Marrying you deprived me of a relationship I was coming to value very highly. Can't you be satisfied with the havoc you've wreaked and will continue to wreak in my life?"

As she spoke the hand on her shoulder tightened and then moved up to circle the nape of her neck, and Hunter smiled, a very feral smile that gave Stacy the answer to her question. Without a word he lowered his head and took her lips in a slow, deliberate possession that reminded Stacy in no uncertain terms of whose brand she now wore.

"Any more additions, amendments, or modifications you'd care to try?" he growled in a low, deep, mocking voice as he lifted his mouth a few inches from her own and eyed the lips he had forced apart so easily. "Bargaining with you is always an interesting experi-ence. One wonders when you'll finally realize you're stuck with the original terms!"

His coolly taunting expression struck sparks against the temper Stacy was so certain she had brought under control years ago but which had never been fully dormant. And the very fact that he could ignite it so easily was added fuel to the blaze. It wasn't fair that this man could govern his own emotions so well when she seemed to be at the mercy of hers!

"Sleeping with you was not part of the original terms!" she sud-denly stormed, incensed by his manner. "I promised only to marry you, and I've done that! Don't accuse me of trying to modify or amend the deal, Hunter Manning! I've got my rights, too, and I won't be bullied by you just because I'm living with you! You're every bit as ruthless and arrogant and scheming as you say my father is, and I hope that someday you'll get what you deserve!"

"I think someday has arrived, little witch," Hunter bit out, bend-ing down with unexpected swiftness to lift her high against his chest. "I am tied by the bonds of matrimony and my own word to a woman who is independent, bad-tempered, obstinate, and, until recently, uncontrollable." He started down the hall, a furious Stacy in his arms. "Fortunately," he added with resolution, "I can do something about that last problem!"

"I won't have you threatening me," she hissed fiercely, afraid to struggle too violently in case he simply dropped her to the floor. It was strangely unnerving to be carried in a man's arms. It gave a woman a frightening sense of powerlessness, she was discovering. And when the destination was the man's bedroom, as Hunter's goal obviously was, the sensation was almost overwhelming.

"I'm not threatening you, witch," he retorted, carrying her past the row of windows that looked out on the interior courtyard. "I'm making you a promise!" He turned at the darkened entrance to the master bedroom, a room Stacy had glimpsed only fleetingly.

He set her on her feet, a firm hand on her wrist as he reached out to turn on the bedside lamp, illuminating the solid, ma.s.sive furniture around her. Stacy blinked as she regained her balance, glancing automatically about for some avenue of escape. But everything that met her eyes seemed to reinforce the feeling of being trapped. The room reflected the uncompromising masculinity of her husband, with its wide, low bed, bra.s.s-trimmed chest of drawers, and old, valuable Navaho rugs. One windowed wall looked out on the privacy of the'courtyard, giving the impression of being partially outdoors. In the glow of the lamp, Hunter viewed his captive, his fingers never releasing her wrist.

With a rising sense of desperation, Stacy glared up at him, her wrist becoming a little raw as she pulled and twisted it, trying to free herself.

"Hunter, I won't be forced into this! You have no right." "I've warned you before about that subject." He half-smiled, tightening his fingers on the small bones of her wrist so that she could no longer even struggle. When she glanced angrily down at his grip, he fol-lowed the direction of her focus and said softly, "I won't let you bruise yourself against me, Stacy Manning. You belong to me now, and the devil takes care of his own."

CHAPTER SIX.

Stacy's glittering green eyes lifted from the sight of her manacled wrist and collided with the implacable gaze of her husband.

"Well?" he invited with gentle menace, "are you going to try slapping me again?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" she snapped, reading the hope-lessness of her situation in his eyes and refusing to surrender. "You'd welcome an excuse for using your brute strength against me!"

He shrugged. "Not particularly. There are other things I'd rather do with you at the moment. But if we have to go through that lesson first, I'm willing." His mouth twisted in a small smile as he studied her mutinous face. "Do you really want to fight me, little witch? Remember how it was the first night when we made our bargain? And what about the kisses we've shared since then...."

He lifted his free hand and thrust his fingers through the heavi-ness of her hair, sending the clip flying into the darkness beyond the lamp and watching with male satisfaction as her thick hair tumbled down around her shoulders.