Johanna Lindsey: A Man to Call My Own

Marian, on the other hand, was as unnoticeable as usual. There were no intricate frills on her black dress to be admired, no stylish bangs to frame her face or detract from the ugly spectacles that dominated her appearance. She was the moth next to the butterfly. While she suspected it was easy to be the butterfly, she knew for sure it was hard work being the moth.

The room was almost unrecognizable, with Mortimer's lawyer sitting behind the desk, rather than Mortimer. They knew Albert Bridges well. He had often been invited to dinner when their father found himself strapped for time and brought his work home with him.

Albert usually called the sisters by their first names. He'd known them long enough to do so. But today he addressed each of them as Miss Laton and he seemed uncomfortable doing his job.

There had been no surprises in the will so far. A few family servants had been left small bequests, but the bulk of Mortimer's estate had been left to his daughters—equally. Once again, it was only his affection he hadn't divided equally, never his wealth. There were interests in a half dozen businesses, income property in town as well as other parts of the state, a bank account larger than either girl could have imagined. But no real surprises—until the end.

"There is one stipulation," Albert told diem, pulling at his collar nervously. "Your father wanted to assure that you would be well taken care of, and not be fooled by fortune hunters merely interested in your inheritance. So other than for essentials, none of his estate will be transferred to you until you marry. And until that time, his sister, Mrs. Frank Dunn, will be your guardian."

Amanda said nothing. She was frowning, but she hadn't yet fully grasped the implications. Marian watched her, waiting for the storm to erupt once it sunk in.

Albert Bridges had expected more of a reaction as well, and looking at each girl somewhat warily, asked, "Do you understand what this means?"

Marian nodded, even smiled at him. "I'm assuming that Aunt Kathleen isn't going to change her life to accommodate us just because her brother died, so we will have to travel to her. Is that what you mean?"

He sighed in relief. "Exactly. I know it may seen daunting, having to move so far away from everything and everyone you know, but it can't be helped."

"Actually—I don't mind at all. I have no real attachment to this city—"

The storm arrived. Amanda shot to her feet so fast, she dislodged not one but two blond locks from her coiffure, both on the same side, so she now had a long wave of golden hair curling around and beyond her breast. Her dark blue eyes were flashing like sapphires under a jewelers light, and her lips had thinned to form a snarl.

"Absolutely out of the question! Do you have any idea where this unknown aunt of ours lives? It's the other side of the world!"

"Just the other side of the country, actually," Marian said calmly.

"That is the same thing!" Amanda yelled. "She lives among savages."

"The savages have been curtailed—mostly."

Amanda glared at her. "Shut up, just ... just shut up! You go live in the wilds of Texas and rot and die for all I care. I'll get married immediately and stay right here, thank you very much."

Albert tried to stop her, to explain further, but Amanda was too furious to listen and stalked out of the room. He gave Marian a long-suffering look.

"She can't just—get married," he told Marian with a weary sigh.

"I didn't think so."

"I mean she can, but then she would forfeit her inheritance. As your guardian, your aunt must give her approval, for either of you to marry."

"Shall I fetch her back?" Marian offered. "She hasn't left the house yet. We would have heard the slamming of the front door if she had."

"I'll go after her." Albert sighed again. "I should have been more clear to begin with."

Albert rose from behind the desk, but it wasn't necessary. Amanda came marching back into the study on her own with Karl Ryan in tow. Karl was one of her hopeful suitors, her least favorite actually, but she tolerated him because he was handsome and considered a fine catch by any standards. As long as a man had other women interested in him, even if only one, Amanda wanted him interested in her instead because she thrived on the envy of other women.

Karl had been on hand that morning to accompany them to the cemetery. Amanda had been too preoccupied to notice that he was the only one of her suitors to come by to offer his condolences. Marian knew that visitors were being turned away at the door with the simple explanation that the girls weren't receiving callers. Someone had decided they should have some undisturbed time for mourning. Marian was grateful because she had no desire to deal with anyone just now. Amanda probably would have objected if she'd known.

Karl had been hard to turn away, though, since he'd come by right after they'd been told the news of Mortimer's death, and he had heard about it from Amanda. He'd been waiting in the parlor since they'd returned from the funeral, prepared to offer as much comfort as he could today. But Amanda didn't appear to need comforting. She needed calming because she still looked furious.

"There, I've setded the matter," Amanda said triumphantly. "I'm now engaged to marry Mr. Ryan. So I'll hear no more talk about leaving home." And then she added snidely, "But I'll be glad to help you pack, Marian."

"Unless Mr. Ryan is willing to travel with you to Texas, to meet your aunt and obtain her approval, marrying him will not release your inheritance to you, Miss Laton," Albert was forced to point out. "Without that approval, you would forfeit everything."

"No! My God, I can't believe Papa did this to me. He knew I despise traveling."

"He didn't die on purpose just to inconvenience you, Amanda," Marian said in annoyance. "I'm sure he thought you'd be settled long before he died."

"I will be most happy to travel with you to Texas," Karl offered.

"Don't be absurd," Amanda snapped at him. "Can't you see this changes everything?"

"No, it doesn't," Karl insisted. "I still want to marry you."

Marian saw what was coming, and tried to spare Karl's feelings. "You should leave for the time being," she suggested quickly. "She's upset—"

"Upset!" Amanda shouted. "I'm beyond upset. But yes, do leave. There's no longer a reason for me to marry you; in fact, I can't think of a single one now."

Marian glanced away, unwilling to see just how crushed Karl was by those few careless words, but not soon enough. She saw it anyway. And he'd looked so happy when he'd come into the room moments ago, his hearts desire unexpectedly achieved. He really did want Amanda for his wife. Heaven knew why, but he did. Somehow, he hadn't seen or had chosen to ignore this vicious side of her—until now.

But hopefully, after he got over the rejection, he would rejoice to have escaped marriage to such a heartless bitch.

IT WAS A SMALL ranch by most standards, but even smaller by Texas standards. Nestled in the fertile plains west of the Brazos, with a quarter mile of an ofrshoot of the river passing through the northeast corner of die spread, the Twisting Barb encompassed some prime land, if not a lot of it. With less than a thousand head of cattle, the ranch had room for more, but its owners had never aspired to be "cattle kings."

There was only one owner now. Red had taken over the running of the ranch after her husband died. She had learned ranching well, could have handled the task with ease, except for one thing—a lack of good cowhands who would listen to her.

At her wits' end, she'd been seriously thinking about selling. All their good cowhands had up and left when her husband died. She'd put out the word in town that she was hiring, but any hand worth his salt sought a job on the Kinkaid spread. The only ones willing to work for her were wet-behind-the-ears teenagers, and young Easterners who'd drifted west for one reason or another but had to be taught every step of the way when it came to ranching.