Texas Fierce (The Tylers of Texas 4)

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As the truck pulled away, Susan turned back to watch it vanish in a cloud of summer dust. She wouldn’t be seeing Bull Tyler again. Not alone at least. With Ferg hating him, and her Uncle Ham wanting his land, she’d be wise to keep her distance from the proud rancher. Any attention on her part would only give the Prescotts an excuse to harass him.

She had wanted to kiss Bull, and she wasn’t sorry. It had been one small, selfish act of rebellion in her regimented life. For the few seconds their lips had clung, she had felt truly alive. But she couldn’t allow it to happen again. Too many people could be hurt by the consequences.

So she would behave herself. She would be a dutiful daughter, a considerate niece, and a faithful fiancée. She would do her best to forget that soul-stirring kiss in Bull’s truck. And she would accept the reality that her own wishes didn’t matter—at least not to her family. She was only a woman, surrounded by strong-willed men who wanted to use her.

Could she really marry Ferg, knowing he might not be faithful and knowing that he’d already sired an illegitimate son? She’d told Bull the truth. She didn’t love Ferg, but she understood him. She could only hope that underneath that brash, selfish exterior was a good man.

Brushing her hair back from her face, she continued on to the house. Sunflowers grew in patches along the path. She paused to pick some. She would trim the stems and put them in a vase to cheer the house’s gloomy, masculine interior.

Only as she picked the last flower and turned toward the porch did she see him. Ferg was standing on the top step, waiting with his arms folded—waiting for her.

CHAPTER 8

FERG LOOMED OVER SUSAN FROM THE TOP STEP, HIS EXPRESSION A stormy pout. “What took you so long?” he demanded.

She lifted her chin, refusing to be cowed. “We drove the back way. It was pleasant out, and we had time.”

“Time before one o’clock, when you promised to meet your father? It’s one-fifteen, Susan. And your father’s gone with my dad to look at a new front loader for the hay barn. They were going to have lunch in Lubbock. So, what do you have to say to that?”

She sighed, knowing she was cornered. “All right, I made up an excuse. Bull is a friend. I hadn’t seen him in two years, and I wanted a chance to catch up.”

“A friend?” He came down a step, anger reddening his face. “What the hell kind of a friend is he? By my reckoning the only time you’d spent with him was when you were with me.”

“That’s why I didn’t think you’d mind.” She took a breath. Her pulse was racing. “How did you get home so soon? I thought it would take a while to get the tires fixed.”

“The garage sent somebody right over. It didn’t take fifteen minutes to pump up one tire and put the spare on the other wheel. You should’ve waited, Susan. And you shouldn’t have lied to me.”

She met his gaze, speaking in a calm voice. “If you’re expecting an apology, you’re not going to get one. I may be wearing your ring, Ferg, but you don’t own me.”

He was down the steps in two strides, his hands gripping her shoulders hard enough to cause pain. “Listen to me! Bull Tyler is trash, just like his father. You’re not to have anything to do with him. And you’re never to lie to me again. Understand?”

Susan had never seen him like this. Momentarily stunned, she stared at him.

“Say you understand! Say you’re mine and nobody else’s!” His grip tightened. The sunflowers fell from her arms and scattered on the walk.

“Let . . . me . . . go!” The words exploded out of her as she twisted away from him and stepped out of reach. “People break engagements all the time. I don’t have to marry you, Ferg!”

“Maybe not.” His demeanor had changed. He was smiling now, as if he’d won some kind of victory. “But before you give that ring back, you might ask yourself what our breaking up might do to your father’s health.”

Susan exhaled her anger, knowing he was right. She couldn’t give up on this engagement. Not if it would make a difference to her father. And despite the things she knew Ferg had done, he did have good in him. He could be kind and gentle—she’d seen it herself. Maybe with patience and affection, she could help bring out those finer qualities.

Needing a diversion, she bent to gather up the sunflowers she’d dropped. They looked bruised and had lost a few petals, but maybe some water could still revive them.

“I’m sorry, Susan.” Ferg crouched beside her, handing her a few of the flowers he’d picked up. “I didn’t mean to lose my temper. But I have to know we can trust each other. To have you lie and then go off like that with another man, especially him—it made me crazy.”

“I’m sorry, too. In the future I’ll remember that I need to be honest with you. And I’ll do my best to make you happy.” Susan had spoken carefully, keeping to what she knew was true. But she couldn’t help wondering how Ferg would handle her being in Savannah for the coming school year, mingling with male students. Possessive as he appeared to be, would he pressure her to have the wedding sooner—even this summer?

If so, he was going to have a fight on his hands. She wasn’t ready to get married yet, not before she’d had a taste of independence.

But what would she do if her father took Ferg’s side—especially if his health was failing?

Ferg’s big hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers weaving into her hair, holding her in place. “You and I were meant to be together, Susan,” he muttered. “Never forget that.”

His mouth captured hers in a forceful kiss. Susan responded, closing her eyes, softening her lips, and meeting the insistent thrust of his tongue. But it was all an act. What she felt was . . . nothing.

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