close check on his impatience. „Perhaps,“ he said evenly, „I’m making the mistake of attributing my own reactions to another man in the same position!“
„Hunter!“ she gasped, astounded by .the smoldering threat that seemed to radiate from him. „Are you implying you would – would
– “ She broke off, floundering for words.
„I’m saying, Stacy Rylan,“ he told her roughly, „that if you ever meet me casually for lunch someday and announce you’re going oif with another man, I’ll use whatever force is necessary to change your mind!“ He caught her by the shoulders and hauled her close. „You’re going to belong to me, Rylan witch, and the devil never gives up his own!“
Stunned by the intensity of his words, Stacy was swept against him before she could protest, and his mouth came down on hers, marking her with a fiery brand of possession. Helpless to free herself, she submitted to the demanding, claiming embrace, knowing that Hunter Manning had set his seal on her. The devil’s seal of own-ership. And even as she wondered at the strange, cold fire in him, a part of her was stirring, questioning whether or not the chilling, potent flames in this man could be made to blaze with human heat.
CHAPTER FIVE
On the day of her marriage Stacy left for work at the usual time, stubbornly clinging to the familiar routine, although her state of nerves did not allow her to accomplish much, if anything, useful.
And her nervousness, heightened as it was, could not be attributed solely to the wedding scheduled for that afternoon, although that prospect was awesome enough.
No, a portion of her tremulousness was the result of the night letter that had arrived the day before and that had been burning a hole in the back pocket of her jeans all day. She didn’t even have to take it out to reread it; she’d memorized her father’s brief message by heart. „Congratulations, Stacy,“ it read.
„You always did insist on doing things your way. I wonder how long it will be before you realize what you’ve landed in this time.
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. But there’s no point trying to argue you out of it, so I won’t make the effort. You’ll come to your senses in your own good time.
Who knows? Manning may have taken on more than he realizes.“
* * *
There had been no added note from her mother. Following a tradition that seemed to have been established in the early years of her parents’ marriage, Paul J. spoke for both of them. Stacy sat back on her heels, studying some plants in a propagating case and bit her lip.
The letter was not totally unexpected after being told by Eric that he’d sent the telegram. What was making Stacy so very nervous was wondering if Hunter had received one, too.
But if he had, she told herself reassuringly, she would have heard from him. He would have called off the marriage and raised hell with her for having tried to trick him. The whole point of the wedding was to enact a subtle revenge on her father, and once Hunter learned her father wasn’t overly concerned with Stacy’s erratic behavior, he would realize the pointlessness of attacking the older man through her. He might go back to his original plans.
She had seen very little of her intended groom during the past few days. After the first night, she had been prepared for him to lay siege to her physically in spite of his promise. The way he had kissed her the next day in the greenhouse had suggested he had no intention of letting her maintain any distance between them on that level. But Hunter had kept his word about not taking her to bed, and somehow that angered her further. He had been busy the short time since then.
He had taken her out to dinner at a steak house and scoffed when she’d ordered a meatless pasta dish, insisted on her accompanying him to lunch another day, but there had been
„Hunter!“ she gasped, astounded by .the smoldering threat that seemed to radiate from him. „Are you implying you would – would
– “ She broke off, floundering for words.
„I’m saying, Stacy Rylan,“ he told her roughly, „that if you ever meet me casually for lunch someday and announce you’re going oif with another man, I’ll use whatever force is necessary to change your mind!“ He caught her by the shoulders and hauled her close. „You’re going to belong to me, Rylan witch, and the devil never gives up his own!“
Stunned by the intensity of his words, Stacy was swept against him before she could protest, and his mouth came down on hers, marking her with a fiery brand of possession. Helpless to free herself, she submitted to the demanding, claiming embrace, knowing that Hunter Manning had set his seal on her. The devil’s seal of own-ership. And even as she wondered at the strange, cold fire in him, a part of her was stirring, questioning whether or not the chilling, potent flames in this man could be made to blaze with human heat.
CHAPTER FIVE
On the day of her marriage Stacy left for work at the usual time, stubbornly clinging to the familiar routine, although her state of nerves did not allow her to accomplish much, if anything, useful.
And her nervousness, heightened as it was, could not be attributed solely to the wedding scheduled for that afternoon, although that prospect was awesome enough.
No, a portion of her tremulousness was the result of the night letter that had arrived the day before and that had been burning a hole in the back pocket of her jeans all day. She didn’t even have to take it out to reread it; she’d memorized her father’s brief message by heart. „Congratulations, Stacy,“ it read.
„You always did insist on doing things your way. I wonder how long it will be before you realize what you’ve landed in this time.
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. But there’s no point trying to argue you out of it, so I won’t make the effort. You’ll come to your senses in your own good time.
Who knows? Manning may have taken on more than he realizes.“
* * *
There had been no added note from her mother. Following a tradition that seemed to have been established in the early years of her parents’ marriage, Paul J. spoke for both of them. Stacy sat back on her heels, studying some plants in a propagating case and bit her lip.
The letter was not totally unexpected after being told by Eric that he’d sent the telegram. What was making Stacy so very nervous was wondering if Hunter had received one, too.
But if he had, she told herself reassuringly, she would have heard from him. He would have called off the marriage and raised hell with her for having tried to trick him. The whole point of the wedding was to enact a subtle revenge on her father, and once Hunter learned her father wasn’t overly concerned with Stacy’s erratic behavior, he would realize the pointlessness of attacking the older man through her. He might go back to his original plans.
She had seen very little of her intended groom during the past few days. After the first night, she had been prepared for him to lay siege to her physically in spite of his promise. The way he had kissed her the next day in the greenhouse had suggested he had no intention of letting her maintain any distance between them on that level. But Hunter had kept his word about not taking her to bed, and somehow that angered her further. He had been busy the short time since then.
He had taken her out to dinner at a steak house and scoffed when she’d ordered a meatless pasta dish, insisted on her accompanying him to lunch another day, but there had been
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