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The Next Mrs. Blackthorne (Bitter Creek Book 6) Page 10
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She heard Clay say that court would resume at 1:16, and then everyone around her was rising. She stood and waited for Clay to exit the courtroom, anxious to be gone before she had to speak to his parents.
That hope was lost when Ren turned around, extended her hand and said, “Libby! It’s so wonderful to see you.” She turned to Blackjack and said, “Isn’t it wonderful, Jackson?”
Blackjack was saved from lying when Ren continued, “Clay asked us to meet him in his chambers at the noon recess. Won’t you join us?”
That was the last thing Libby wanted to do, but it seemed the quickest way to get to Clay and find out what had happened to Kate.
Clay had barely greeted his parents when he rounded on Libby and said, “How long have you known about Kate and that felon?”
“I don’t believe he was actually convicted of—” Libby began.
“How long?” Clay interrupted brusquely.
“Kate called me last night.”
“Did you know they’re living together?” Clay said.
“What?” Libby was reeling from Clay’s attack and shocked at what he’d said. Her daughter was living with a man? “Where are they—”
“At North’s ranch,” Clay snarled. “In the foreman’s house.”
Libby was stunned into silence.
“That no-good bastard,” Blackjack muttered.
“Do you know Jack McKinley, Mr. Blackthorne?” Libby asked.
“Hell, no. I was referring to your brother North.”
Libby bristled. “My brother—”
“Is doing his level best to steal the Bitter Creek Cattle Company right out from under us,” Blackjack said.
Libby turned to Clay. “What is he talking about?”
“That can wait, Dad,” Clay said.
“Not for long,” Blackjack said. “I don’t know why North hasn’t called for a vote to kick us off the ranch. Probably just enjoys watching us swinging in the wind.”
Libby looked at Clay uncertainly.
“Save it, Dad,” Clay said.
“I’d like to hear more,” Libby said.
“How about if we talk more at lunch?” Ren said. “Your father and I—”
“I can’t leave. I’m sorry,” Clay said.
“Another time then,” Ren said. “Jackson?”
“I suppose we can finish our discussion later, Clay,” Blackjack said. “I’m very proud of you, son.”
Libby was surprised by the open compliment, and when she glanced at Clay’s face, saw he was equally surprised. Then she saw how Ren was beaming at Jackson and realized she must have encouraged him to say something.
“Thank you, Dad,” Clay said.
“We’ll see you soon, Clay. Nice to see you, Libby,” Ren said.
Blackjack slid a protective arm around Ren and ushered her from the room.
Alone with the lion, Libby took a deep breath and said, “Would you mind explaining what your father was talking about? What, exactly, has North done that has him so upset?”
“I thought you knew,” Clay said. “North owns enough Bitter Creek stock to throw us out, lock, stock and smoking barrel.”
“Oh, no!,” Libby said.
“Right,” Clay agreed. “It’s driving my father crazy waiting for the ax to fall. You have any idea what North’s got in mind?”
Libby shook her head. She had no idea what her older brother was thinking. But his machinations, which once again pitted the Blackthornes and Grayhawks against each other, boded no good for her efforts to reconcile with Clay.
“Damn this awful, disgusting horrible feud,” Libby said under her breath. But she didn’t apologize for what North had done. He was her brother, and when it came to choosing between Blackthornes and Grayhawks, she owed him her loyalty.
But because he was Kate’s uncle, she was righteously furious with her brother. “I can’t imagine what North was thinking, letting Kate stay with Jack at his ranch,” she said, deftly changing the subject.
Clay grimaced and said, “Kate told me she’s planning to quit college at the end of the term to be with Jack. Of course, they have no plans to marry.”
Libby groaned. “What can we do?”
“I’m going to break his neck,” Clay said.
Libby shot Clay a look that said, Be serious. Then she realized he was his father’s son, and if he’d had Jack McKinley in his grasp, he might very well have wrung his neck. Or tried to. From what she’d heard, Jack McKinley was a powerful man himself. “There must be something we can do,” she said.
“I’m going to start by calling Owen to see if the Texas Rangers can find an excuse to arrest him.”
“You can’t do that, Clay,” Libby said.
“Why not?” he said angrily. “That bastard is sleeping with my daughter and has no intention of making an honest woman of her.”
“He isn’t doing anything you didn’t do,” Libby said.
The silence was awesome. And painful.
“I loved you,” Clay said into the silence.
Libby felt her heart wrench in her chest. Loved. Past tense. “Maybe he loves Kate. Don’t you think we should give him the benefit of the doubt?”
“I’d like to give him the sole of my boot in his ass,” Clay retorted. “That sonofabitch is going to break Kate’s heart.”
“We don’t know that,” Libby said. “I think we should talk with him. With them. I don’t approve of what North did, but there must be something redeeming in Jack’s character for my brother to make the foreman’s house at his ranch available to them.”
“North should be shot for allowing it.”
Libby stared at him in disgust. “I understand where you learned that sort of hyperbole,” she said. “But I don’t appreciate it. North is my brother. And you should trust Kate to know her own heart.”
“She’s an innocent lamb and that lone wolf is going to eat her alive and leave a bleeding carcass when he’s done.”
“Now you’re exaggerating,” Libby chided. “I’ll go out there this afternoon and—”
“No.”
“No?” she said, eyes flashing at his audacity in forbidding her to do anything, when there was nothing binding them to each other. “Since when do you tell me—”
“I think we should go together and present a united front, and I can’t leave until this evening.”
“Do you really think that will make a difference?”
“I don’t know,” Clay said. “But so long as you’re here, it’s worth a try. Will you wait for me? I can be ready to go by six.”
This time it was more a request than a demand. Libby conceded he might be right. Two parents were better than one when confronting Kate and Jack. “Sure. Fine. That’ll give me a chance to see you in action in your courtroom this afternoon.” She picked up a wooden gavel from his desk, turned to him and said, “I never realized you were considering a future on the bench.”
“This opportunity just fell in my lap,” Clay said. “But I have to admit I’m enjoying the work.”
“You’re not worried about adjudicating such a high-profile case your first time out?” Libby asked.
“No. But…”
Libby raised her eyebrows, encouraging him to finish his thought.
“There’s evidence the plane crash that killed the previous judge was no accident.”
“Do the authorities believe his death had anything to do with his involvement in this case?” Libby asked, controlling her speech so Clay wouldn’t see the fear that had suddenly stolen her breath.
“Criminal judges deal with some pretty shady characters day in and day out. Bomber Brown seems to be worse than most. It’s possible the previous judge was assassinated.”
“And you still want this job?”
Clay met her gaze and said, “I feel like I’m doing something worthwhile with my life.”
She listened for self-pity in his voice, but didn’t hear any. “I’m sorry you’re never going to be—”
“This is enough,” Clay interrupte
d. “And I’m safer than you might think. After what happened to the last judge, I’ve been assigned a bodyguard. You must have seen the deputy marshal outside the door to my chambers.”
“He’s certainly big enough,” Libby said. “Does he follow you everywhere? I mean, are you in danger all the time?”
“My condo has good security, so he usually follows me as far as the door. But whenever I’m in the courthouse, he’s my shadow.”
Libby tried to hide the horror she felt, but Clay must have seen what she was feeling because he said, “It won’t always be like this. I mean, security this tight. It’s only this trial, because the defendant is charged with having targeted the judiciary once before.”
“Kate seemed so excited about spending time with you. But under the circumstances, I don’t think—”
“I’ve told Kate I don’t want her in my courtroom. Of course, she’s ignored me. If she insists on coming, I’ll ask the marshal’s service to have a bodyguard assigned to her, too.”
“Oh, my God,” Libby said. “This is insane.”
“It would be good if you could coax her back to Jackson Hole at the end of the semester.”
“I will. That is,” Libby said, her brow furrowing, “if she’s not married to Jack McKinley by then.”
“What on earth was she thinking, getting involved with a character like McKinley?”
Libby ignored the question, which had no good answer, and said, “Will this new job interfere with your honeymoon?”
“There isn’t going to be any honeymoon,” Clay said bitterly.
Libby stared at him, her mouth agape, unable to hide her astonishment. “Why not?”
“Because there isn’t going to be any marriage,” he said in a harsh voice.
Libby’s heart was pounding. She was afraid to acknowledge what she was feeling, because it felt suspiciously like hope. “What happened?”
“Ask your brother North.”
“What does North have to do with anything?” Libby asked.
“He’s got her there. At his ranch.”
Libby was totally confused. “He’s got who at his ranch?”
“Jocelyn. North has Jocelyn living with him at his ranch.”
Libby was dumbfounded. “How did that happen?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“So. My brother is not only trying to take over your family’s ranch, he’s stolen your fiancée.”
Clay’s silence spoke volumes.
Libby barely stopped herself from saying, “I’m sorry.” That would be a blatant lie. She felt a surge of gladness that took her by surprise. She’d long since conceded the loss of the man she loved to another woman. Suddenly he was free again because North had taken Jocelyn Montrose out of the picture. The future was full of possibilities.
Or would have been, if she and Clay had not been born to families who hated each other. The hostility between Blackthornes and Grayhawks had lain dormant for years. Until North had roused the beast from its lair. Here was the monster, fully formed once more, filled with malice and hate, rearing its ugly head.
Clay reached out to touch Libby’s elbow, to escort her out the door, and she jerked at the jolt of electricity that passed between them. She exchanged a stricken look with Clay. It was still there. The sexual spark that arced between them every time they touched.
“Sorry about that. It’s friction from this damned carpet,” Clay said as he ushered her through the door, this time hands off. “The previous judge was a Longhorn fan, and he’s got that Texas burnt orange everywhere, carpet to courtroom.”
Libby didn’t contradict Clay’s contention that it was static electricity they’d felt. “Where do you want me to meet you later?” she asked.
“Here in my chambers at six,” he said, stepping back to make more space between them.
“Fine. I’ll be here.”
Libby didn’t look back as she headed down the courthouse steps. She’d spent a lot of time reconciling herself to a life without Clay Blackthorne, and she’d learned to cope with disappointment. She’d felt sorry for him when the woman he’d been engaged to after their liaison was murdered a day before his wedding. And lived through a marriage of her own and a subsequent broken engagement while he’d been married to Giselle Montrose. No matter how discontented she’d been, life had to be lived.
Her hopes had risen high last year when Clay had come to Jackson Hole, a widower of a year. Their first kiss after nearly twenty years had resulted in a not altogether welcome revelation. Whatever magic had been there between them a lifetime ago was still there. They belonged together. Always had, always would.
But Libby was too proud to ask him to take her back. He had to want her. He had to come to her and forgive her and ask on bended knee for her hand.
That simply hadn’t happened.
Libby realized she should have known better. The last place you would find a Blackthorne was on bended knee. Sure enough, Clay had gotten engaged to Jocelyn Montrose last fall, rather than deal with the baggage he and Libby had carried around for twenty years.
Now Jocelyn was out of the picture, and Libby couldn’t help thinking this might be their last chance, and the man she loved was just too stubborn to see it. Tears welled in her eyes, and she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, because she couldn’t see where she was going.
Why, oh why, couldn’t she stop hoping? Stop caring? Stop dreaming about a man who was too much his mother’s son ever to be able to forgive her that one trespass? Why couldn’t he realize that she’d done it for him? That she’d believed her father when he’d threatened to put Clay in jail. That she’d loved him enough to live her life without him.
Libby realized, as she stood on a scorching sidewalk in Austin, that she’d reached her Waterloo. This was where she would plant her feet and fight her battle for the future. It was now or never. And she meant never.
There was more than Kate’s relationship with Jack that would be decided by their trip to North’s ranch. Libby intended to confront Clay and discover once and for all whether they were destined to have a future together.
She felt exultant at the possibilities that existed. And an awful fear that within the next twenty-four hours all hope would be lost.
7
“Mom and Dad are here,” Kate said excitedly, as she looked out the window over the sink in the kitchen. She threw the towel she was using to wipe her hands onto the counter and hurried to the screen door to observe the approaching vehicle.
The bright sun was low in the sky, but by shading her eyes, she recognized the black Mercedes SUV coming down the oak-lined dirt road to the foreman’s house. She turned and smiled happily at Jack, who was sitting at a wooden trestle table set for four, and said, “They came together in Dad’s car.”
“I guess the first part of your plan worked,” he said. “They’ve joined forces to check out the monster you’re dating.”
Kate made a face at him. “You’re not a monster. In fact, you’re my knight in shining armor.” She glanced toward the door, then back at him, and frowned.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I think I should be sitting on your lap when they come in.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Actions speak louder than words,” Kate said. “Please, Jack?”
His chair screeched as he shoved it back on the aged hardwood floor, making space for her. “You’re the boss.”
Kate glanced one last time at the oncoming car. She hadn’t seen her mother since spring break, and she hadn’t spent time with her dad for eons. She wanted to run out the door and hug them and kiss them and tell them how much she loved them. But this wasn’t about what she needed. It was about making sure the two of them realized they needed each other.
She crossed quickly to Jack and plopped onto his lap, looping her arms around his neck.
“Not like that,” he said. “Stand up.”
She stood and he scooted the chair a little farther away
from the table and said, “Straddle my lap.”
She was the one who’d wanted to set a loving scene for her parents, but Jack’s suggestion made her insides clench. “That’s a little provocative, don’t you think?”
“We’re lovers, remember?” He guided her spread legs onto his lap, then circled his hands around her hips and pulled her close as she sat down, so the heart of her was nestled close to the heat of him.
She stared down at the intimate contact, then searched his dark eyes to see if he was as affected as she was. She felt the growing evidence of his arousal. And knew he was.
“Maybe we should be kissing,” she murmured as she stared at his long lashes.
“Go ahead,” he said, his voice low and rough. “Better make it quick. I can hear them opening their car doors.”
It was daunting to be the one making the first move. Nervous, she said, “I’m not sure what to do with my hands.”
“Put them around my neck,” he instructed. “Better yet, thread them through my hair.”
Kate did as she was told, marveling once again at the silkiness of his sun-streaked brown hair, relieved that they’d gotten their first—and second—kiss over with yesterday, because she was already feeling overwhelmed by all this physical contact. She still wasn’t prepared for the sensations that moved through her as his soft lips rubbed against hers.
She made a satisfied sound in her throat as his mouth covered hers for the third time. She sank into the kiss, completely losing herself in the taste and feel of him.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing!”
Kate would have lurched out of Jack’s arms if he hadn’t gripped her waist and held her in place. She turned her head, her eyes unfocused and her breath sketchy, and found her parents staring at her with incredulous faces. She took a deep breath to rejuvenate her suffering lungs, shot them a lopsided grin and said, “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad. This is Jack.”
By then, Jack was rising, scooting her off his lap and holding her hands to help her stand, easy as you please, as though her father hadn’t yelled at them to end their loverlike pose.
Jack smiled his charming smile, reached out a hand to her father and said, “Nice to meet you, Judge Blackthorne.”