Nothing.

She had no marketable skills, no job, no income, no husband.

She had nothing.

Angie sat frozen to her chair. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words emerged. The irony of her situation gripped her like a fever. Her father had insisted she learn to ride, learn to ranch, or he’d disinherit her. He’d died before he could make good on his threat, and then said he wouldn’t have done it.

She’d been disinherited anyway.

“Harper,” Maria said, “there must be something we can do.”

Jefferson smiled sardonically. “This doesn’t affect you, pretty girl,” he said to Catie, “since you had the good sense to marry that cowboy of yours. Your sister, on the other hand, is shit outta luck.”

“Do not address my wife again,” Chad McCray said. “You won’t get away with this. The McCrays own half of this town.”

“Simmer down, McCray,” Jefferson said. “This doesn’t concern you or your wife. As for what you own, your wife, not you, owns half of Bay Crossing. The other half belongs to me.”

Catie clenched her fists and stood. “We won’t let you do this to Angie.” She clutched her belly.

“You all right?” Chad rose and helped her back to her chair.

“I’m fine. Just a little light-headed.”

“Come on,” Chad said. “We’re leaving.” He turned to Maria. “My brothers and I will help in any way we can, I promise you that. But right now I want Catie away from this stress.”

Maria nodded. “I understand completely. Go.”

Catie balked, but eventually relented. “Call me as soon as he leaves.”

“I will.” Marie shut the door behind them. “Now”—her brown eyes flared—“let’s get to the bottom of this once and for all, Jeff. You will not punish me by doing this to my daughter.” Her fists clenched. Sweat beaded on her brow. “You won’t, I tell you.”

Jefferson’s eyes didn’t waver. They were hard eyes. Eyes that had been to prison. Eyes that had seen things Angie couldn’t fathom. For a millisecond, a fraction of sorrow for him tugged at her—until she remembered why he was here.

To steal everything she had. Or never had.

He spoke, his voice terse. “Nothing you can do about it, Mia. Sorry.”

Harper glanced through the rest of the document, his brown eyes misting. He feels bad for me. He wants to help me.

“Ah-ha!”

“What, did you find something?” Maria’s voice shook with a dash of hope.

“There’s reference to a codicil here,” Harper said, nodding to Jeff. “Did you bother to read that?”

“What codicil? I didn’t find any codicil.”

“We need to search this office,” Harper said. “Dad kept all his important papers in these files.” He walked to an oak filing cabinet and starting opening drawers and shuffling through documents.

He pulled out a file folder. “Here’s the will. I guess Dad never bothered to read it.” He pushed it aside and pulled out another document. “And here’s the codicil, dated the same date as the will and signed and notarized.” He scanned the document. His lips curved upward in a caustic grin and he waved the document in Jefferson’s face. “Don’t get too comfortable with the idea of property ownership, Uncle Jeff. Angie has two months from the date of Dad’s death to marry. If she does, she still inherits.”

“What?” Jefferson grabbed the codicil. “That can’t be.”

“Read it yourself.”

“Damn it! I want a lawyer to look at this.”

“I am a lawyer. You can take it to Denver and have some expensive downtown attorney look at it and tell you the same thing if you want. But I have the same education they do.”

“You’re a ranch lawyer.”

“I’m a rancher with a legal education and a license to practice law in this state, the state where that document was written, signed, and notarized. It doesn’t take a classy downtown office to read a will and codicil. It takes one year of law school. I have three.”

“Well, then,” Maria said, her body limp, “we’ll just have to find Angie a husband. Shouldn’t be too difficult. She’s a beautiful girl.”

Angie sat, numb. “Sure, just put me up on the auction block. Marry Angelina Bay and inherit half a ranch.”

How had her life come to this?

“Angie, there are a hundred men in town who’d love to marry you,” her mother said, her voice now louder, a little calmer.

But she didn’t want a hundred men. She wanted just one man. And damn it, she didn’t want a marriage like her parents’. She wanted love.

Ice settled in her arms, and her head swam with visions of wills and codicils and horrible long lost uncles. What would she do?

---

Angie wasn’t exactly sure how she got home to change into riding clothes, how she got to Belle’s stall. As she groomed the sleek ebony coat, her mind wandered to the days when she was a little girl, the days spent with her doting daddy. Riding in front of him in the saddle across the expanse of their property on the western slope. The sweet aroma of the peach trees in bloom in the springtime, and the rocky terrain of the vineyards in summer. And the cattle of course, not as sweet smelling, but the pride of Daddy’s ranch. Best beef on the western slope, rivaled in Colorado only by the McCrays here on this side of the Rockies.

When Mama had inherited the ranch here, they named it Cha Cha, for Caitlyn, Harper, and Angelina. A ridiculous name, Angie always thought, but indicative of how much she and her siblings meant to their parents. They’d decided to move here so they’d be closer to the big city of Denver where she and Harper could have better schooling. Catie hadn’t yet been a year old, and she didn’t remember ever living on the western slope.

But Angie did. She’d loved it there. Loved the fresh peaches and apples every fall, the acres upon acres of fresh green orchards. She’d had a pony named Lucas who Daddy had helped her learn to ride. Course Belle was far more beautiful and valuable than Lucas. Why had she stopped riding?

Why had she stopped doing a lot of things?

The urge to ride with the wind hit her like the gush of a storm. Catie always rode when she needed to escape. She said riding was better than shopping any day.

Oh Lord, do I need an escape right now.

She saddled Belle and led her out of the stable. So she didn’t have her helmet. No matter. Riding would come back to her. And she’d had a few lessons. She could click her tongue and get Belle to walk. No problem.

She mounted the mare and practiced the leg exercises Rafe had taught her. Belle circled to the left, and then to the right.

“Good girl,” Angie said.

But circles weren’t helping her escape. She wanted to ride. Preferably over the horizon to a place free from heartache and worry.

She clicked to Belle and let the mare walk away from the practice area. What a gentle horse. She let Belle move into a trot. That was it. She couldn’t handle anything more. No cantering or galloping. The trot was nice, though her butt was bouncing up and down on the saddle. Not good. She gripped her legs around Belle’s girth and tried to steady herself.

So far so good.

The McCray ranch was beautiful. Green and plentiful, cattle and horses grazing. Fresh late summer air. The golden warmth of the late afternoon sun heated her cheeks. Yes, she could enjoy this. Why, she asked herself again, had she ever stopped riding?

Daddy’d been right. She should have learned about ranch life long before now. Course what good would it have done her? She no longer owned a ranch. Not unless she could find someone to marry her in the next few months. How in the hell would she do that?

She’d have to marry not for love, but for convenience, like her parents had.

She thought for a moment. Daddy’s brother had been in love with Mama. Could Mama have been in love with him too?

She shook her head. Mama had slept with Daddy, and she, Angie, was the result. Perhaps Mama had never known of Jefferson’s feelings. Yet she hadn’t seemed surprised when he’d brought up the story in the office.

What else didn’t she know about her mother and father? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know anything more. She’d rather remember her daddy as the kind and loving man he’d been.

She rode and she rode. The orange sun sank lower in the sky. Time to turn back. How long had she been riding? She had no idea. She hadn’t worn a watch, and she’d left her cell phone in Belle’s stall. She hadn’t wanted to be bothered with anything this afternoon.

Hadn’t wanted to think about her future. Or lack thereof.

Hadn’t wanted to think about the possibility of an arranged marriage, when she only wanted marriage to one man.

She gasped in a breath.

Why not?

She could propose to Rafe. She could explain her situation. Maybe he’d marry her. Even if he didn’t love her yet, he could grow to love her. And she could help him. Her ranch could help him. Her money could help buy that place in Arizona he wanted for his father. He’d own his own ranch—well, half. But Catie and Chad would be here, so it would, for all intent and purpose, be their ranch. Hers and Rafe’s.

Excited at the thought, she urged Belle into a gallop before she realized her mistake.

Oh no! Belle was going so fast, and Angie’s bottom was already sore from the trotting.

Maintain, Angie, maintain. It’s not like you’ve never been on a horse before. You can control her.

She pulled back on the reins. Rafe would hate her for this. He hated reins. Thank God she’d used a bit today.

Belle whinnied and didn’t slow.

Come on, girl. Slow down!

Angie tried the reins again.

Again.

No effect.

Belle was running free as the wind and clearly had no intention of stopping. The poor thing was probably tired of trotting for so long.

Angie didn’t think she was in any immediate danger. Why not enjoy it? She’d deal with her sore ass later.

Strands of hair came loose from her twin ponytails and whipped her in the face. Freeing. Exhilarating. The wind rushed at her. Specks of who knows what sanded her face. Instant exfoliation! The nature surrounding her ran past her as if in motion itself, tantalized her, made her forget her troubles. Finally, when Belle seemed to be relaxing, she tried the reins again.

Success.

Belle slowed to a canter and then back to a trot.

“Good girl,” she said, petting Belle’s mane, which was now knotted and tangled from the ride. “That’s my good girl.”

“Angie, what the hell are you doing?”

Rafe’s voice. He galloped up on Adonis and stopped beside her. He wore no hat. His onyx hair had come loose and blew around his face. His forearms were clenched and sinewy. Lord, he was beautiful.

“Thank God. I’ve been worried sick.”

“Worried?”

“No one knows where you are. Catie and Chad are frantic, and when I saw Belle was gone—”

“I’m fine. You taught me well.”

His facial muscles tightened, and his lips formed a taut line. “Damn it, I taught you how to ride in circles. You were nowhere near ready to ride alone. That horse could have thrown you. It could have… God I can’t even think about it.”

“She’s a gentle horse. She wouldn’t throw me.”

“Look at you. You’re a mess. The horse is a mess. You’ve been running wild.”

“Yes, and it felt amazing.” She wasn’t about to apologize. Belle was her horse, after all. “Just what I needed today.”

He brushed his hair out of his eyes. “Angie, I know you’re upset about your dad. I understand. I really do. But that doesn’t mean you should go out and kill yourself. Christ.”

She sighed and shook her head, letting her loose hair whip her cheeks. “It felt wonderful, Rafe. I can’t wait to ride more. I honestly don’t know why I ever stopped.”

“Fine. You can ride whenever you want. As long as I, or someone equally qualified, is with you. Never alone again. Not till I tell you you’re ready.”

“Please, you don’t own me.”

He ignored her taunt. “Follow me. Stick to a trot. I’ll lead you back to the stable.”

An hour later Belle was safely bedded, and Angie faced a still very angry Rafe.

“I ought to put you over my knee and give you a thrashing,” he said.

She smiled and arched one brow. “Whatever you’re into.”

“Damn it!” He pounded his fist into the wall of the stable. “I was worried sick. I didn’t know what to do.”

“I’m fine. There was never anything to worry—”

He slammed his mouth onto hers and forced her lips open. This was no gentle kiss. It was meant to chasten. An angry, punishing kiss. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, drinking of her as though he were dying of thirst.

She melted into his anger, into his possession, into his punishment. The kiss drugged her with angry passion, fierce possession.

It was the kiss of a man who’d feared for her safety, who now reveled in her return.

The kiss of a man in love?

Could he love her?

Her life would be complete if he did. He’d marry her. Save her ranch. She’d have a real marriage, too, not a marriage like her parents’.

His assault on her mouth continued. With one hand, he gripped her breast like a vise. It hurt, but oh God, it hurt so good.

His fingers found her nipple through the fabric of her blouse and bra and pinched. Sweet burn, sweet pain, sweet ecstasy.

His other hand forced her legs open and plunged inside her jeans. He found her clit and fingered it roughly, groaning into her mouth.

He ripped his mouth from hers, his black eyes blazing.

“You’re coming home with me.”