The Marriage Pact (Hqn) by Linda Lael Miller Page A

was in his court.
    Tripp shifted uncomfortably in his chair. Then he cleared his throat again, but when he opened his mouth to speak, no words came out.
    Hadleigh didn’t move, yet she realized that every tense line of her body gave voice to the silent question “Well?”
    He made another attempt—Tripp was constitutionally incapable of giving up on anything he set out to do—and his voice sounded rusty, even a little raw, as though what he said next had been scrapedout of him. “I figure it’s time we came to terms with the past, that’s all,” he told her. “Your brother was my best friend. I’ve known you since you were knee-high to a duck—” He paused, drew a breath and then forged on, his neck reddening slightly as he spoke, his expression grimly earnest. He was groping his way through this conversation; it wasn’t something he’d planned. Or that was her impression, at least. “It’s wrong, Hadleigh,” he went on gruffly. “Our being on the outs for so long, I mean, always avoiding each other, like...like we’re enemies or something.”
    “We are enemies,” Hadleigh reminded him sweetly.
    He glowered at her, shaking his head. “It doesn’t have to be that way, and you damn well know it.”
    “You’re asking me to forgive you?” Hadleigh inquired in an airy tone calculated to annoy him. Maybe it wasn’t the most grown-up thing to do, but after what he’d put her through ten years ago, he could just deal with it. And if Tripp Galloway had to squirm a little, that was fine by her.
    It was so his turn.
    Tripp’s jaws locked briefly, and blue fire blazed in his eyes. He raked one hand through his hair, mussing it even more, and glared at her in pure exasperation.
    Obviously, he was stuck for an answer.
    Good for him.
    Once he’d regained a modicum of control, though, Tripp half growled, “You want me to apologize for keeping you from marrying Oakley Smyth? Hell will freeze over first.” He actually dared to shake an index finger at Hadleigh, and, if she’d been closer, she’d have bitten it off at the knuckle. “Fact is, lady, I’d do the same thing all over again if I had to.”
    Hadleigh snapped then. She shoved back her chair to stand and would have tipped over the table—like a cheated gambler in an old Western movie, sending their cups crashing to the floor—if it hadn’t been for the dog lying close to Tripp. No sense scaring the poor creature out of its wits if she hadn’t already.
    Great. Now, on top of everything else, she felt guilty, too.
    “You have a real nerve , saying that!” she said, struggling to keep her voice down. “How dare you?”
    Tripp stood, too, with an easy grace that, contrasted with Hadleigh’s response, made her wish she hadn’t reacted to his words. To him.
    His gaze was level, steady, as he replied, “I did what I knew was right. And I’ll be damned if I’ll say sorry for that, now or ever.”
    Hadleigh willed herself not to shake, not to shout. Not to fling herself at Tripp with her fists knotted.
    “I think you should go now,” she said, her tone so calm and so foreign that it might not have been her speaking at all, but someone else.
    Someone who hadn’t been hopelessly in love with Tripp Galloway since puberty.
    He was facing her now, looking into her eyes, seeing way too much. “Nothing’s settled between us, Hadleigh,” he informed her evenly. “Not by a long shot.”
    Time seemed to freeze.
    Tripp’s mouth moved perilously close to hers, and her lips tingled with anticipation. For one fabulously dreadful, shameful moment, Hadleigh actually thought he might kiss her. Wanted him to kiss her.
    Instead, to her great relief and even greater disappointment, he stepped away, spoke mildly to the dog, then turned and simply walked off, making his way through the archway that led into the dining room and to the front door.
    Good riddance, Hadleigh told herself, putting a finger to her lower lip to stop it from wobbling.
    The dog followed,