The Billionaires' Brides Bundle

“Damn it, get to it! What plan?”

“Well—well, a year ago, Aloysius and your grandfather talked. About El Rancho Grande. And—”

“And,” Lucas growled, “your client saw a chance to presume upon an old friendship.”

“No, sir! That isn’t what happened.”

A muscle jumped in Lucas’s jaw. The details didn’t matter. McDonough had been desperate for money and he’d come up with a scheme designed to scam an old friend. Dead or not, the man was a lying, deceitful son of a bitch.

Still, why had Felix lied about the mare? About McDonough? If his grandfather knew there was no horse, knew that McDonough was dead…

Lucas would have trusted Felix with his life. To learn that trust might be misplaced…

Was Felix—was he becoming senile?

It was a terrible thought but a plausible explanation. Either Felix had lied to him or his mind was slipping. Neither prospect was good.

Lucas drew a heavy breath.

“Mr. Norton. There has been—there has been some confusion here. I can see that this has nothing to do with you.”

Norton nodded in relief. “Thank you, sir.”

“Obviously this matter is—it is ended.” Lucas’s voice grew brisk. “I assume you came here by car. I would be grateful if you would drive me to town. I have no vehicle. It’s a long story and not very interesting, but—”

“Nothing is ended, Your Highness,” Norton said quickly.

Lucas stiffened. “I assure you,” he said coldly, “it is.”

“The agreement between your grandfather and my client—”

“Damn it, man, I’m not stupid. Your client did what he could to drag my grandfather—to drag the Reyes Ranch—into his financial mess. I promise you, that’s not going to happen.”

Norton’s Adam’s apple danced again. “It’s already happened, sir. Your grandfather bought El Rancho Grande a year ago. It was to change ownership upon my client’s death.”

Lucas was stunned. Reyes Corporation—damn it, he owned this disaster area?

“Last week, your grandfather phoned to say he was ready to execute the terms of the sale. That he was sending you to, uh, to implement the final contract stipulation.”

“Let me see the contract.”

The attorney took a large white handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his face.

“Perhaps we should discuss the stipulation first, sir, and then…”

“Damn it, Thaddeus! Stop weaseling and get to it!”

The voice, female and curt, sliced through the room. Lucas turned and stared at the woman in the doorway.

She was tall. Slender. Her midnight-black hair was drawn back in a severe knot; pearls glittered demurely at her ears and throat. In a white silk blouse, black trousers, butterscotch leather blazer and polished black riding boots, she looked like she’d just stepped out of an expensive Manhattan town house, not a stable.

And yet, that was the last place he had seen her.

His eyes narrowed. “You clean up well for a woman who earns her living mucking stalls.”

The look she gave him lowered the room’s temperature.

“You should have taken my advice and left El Rancho Grande, Mr. Reyes.”