The Wedding Ransom by Geralyn Dawson Page A

years living at Hotel Bliss. It is a perfect solution for all of us. Don’t you agree? The house should be finished by fall. We’ll marry then.” He lifted his teacup in a toast. “You, Mary Margaret St. John, will make a beautiful bride.”

Chapter 4
     
    M aggie couldn’t speak. She could hardly draw a breath. Marriage? Marriage to the very man who had stolen her home away from her? How could he even think she’d consider it? Barlow Hill was nutty as a pecan pie.
    Or was he? The question slithered through Maggie’s consciousness. What if he hadn’t agreed to sell the hotel? What if she didn’t have the treasure to fall back on? What if, God forbid, he refused to honor their contract once they presented him with the money? What if a court found in his favor yet again? How far would she be willing to go to ensure that the papas didn’t lose their home, their health?
    As far as marriage to Barlow Hill?
    “I don’t know what to say, sir,” she finally managed. “This is so sudden.” A sudden threat, to be precise. Maggie didn’t cotton to threats one little bit. But as much as she’d like to tell him to take his proposal and sink it in a mud bath, Maggie realized she had a narrow path to tread. She must refuse him without offending him or raising his suspicions.
    Despite his having signed a contract agreeing to the sale of the hotel, Maggie knew it was best to keep him in the dark until the papas had the purchase price in hand. Bitter experience had taught her that with enough time, lawyers could turn good-faith contracts into rubbish. Surprise was her family’s weapon. Better to present Hill with the cash and a bill of sale all at the same time, to fill up his pockets and send him on his way before he had a chance to reconsider. That was the best route to take.
    In the meantime, she’d need to buy time. The question remained, what was the best way to do it?
    She pushed to her feet. “We hardly know one another. Please, sir, don’t take this wrong, but wouldn’t you prefer marriage to a woman who…well…who has had the opportunity to develop…uh…feelings for you?”
    Feelings other than hatred,
she silently added. His offer to allow the papas to stay at Hotel Bliss if she married him—it was blackmail pure and simple.
    He dismissed her objection with a wave of his hand. “I have no doubt we’ll suit just fine. And now that my house plans are finalized, we shall have more time together. We will spend the next few weeks getting to know one another better.”
    No, they wouldn’t. The trip. Gratitude for the upcoming journey washed over Maggie like a sea swell. In that moment she could almost taste the salty tang of freedom on the cigar-stained air here in Barlow Hill’s suite.
    She affected an air of distress. “Oh, dear, I’m afraid that won’t be possible, Mr. Hill. I mean, Barlow. With the hotel temporarily closed, I have planned a holiday of sorts. I’ll be away from Lake Bliss for a time.”
    “You’re leaving?”
    “Yes. In a few days.”
    “Where do you intend to go?”
    “New Orleans,” she replied, lying instinctively, because information was power and Barlow Hill already had enough of that.
    “New Orleans?” He shook his head. “No, that won’t do at all. You’ll be gone weeks. You must change your plans. I had thought we would host a betrothal ball. I want it held before the summer heat comes. Much more comfortable that way.”
    Betrothal ball! She hadn’t even said she’d marry the slug.
    She could go ahead and lie to him, tell him yes, but her tongue refused to form the words. Maggie needed a diversion, a way to sidestep the question. She seized on the first possibility that popped into her head. “Tell me, Barlow, if I were to accept your proposal, would you wish us to have a formal wedding? Would I require a special gown? I could shop for one while I’m in New Orleans. That is one of the main reasons I’m taking the trip, you see. I’m in desperate need of new,