The Man Must Marry Page 9

  Bram began speaking again.

  “Warren Cobb,” he boomed, “you’ll get your hands on my company only if I’ve raised three worthless grandsons. But I can tell you now, I have not. One of them will marry Willa, and Tidewater will not only remain intact, it will come gunning for you, you old bastard. Starrtech will be dust at your feet to be sprinkled over both of our graves.”

  Bram shot a sinister smile at the camera. “Like I did sixty years ago, I’ll beat you again, old friend. Rose married me, and she died a happy woman.

  “Boys,” Bram continued, “if I could have found a Willa for each of you, I would have. But only one of you can have her. Win her, and you win Rosebriar and Tidewater.” He frowned suddenly. “Lose her, and you’ll get just what you deserve.”

  Then Bram nervously cleared his throat, suddenly looking every one of his eighty-five years. “Willa, honey. There’s—ah—one more thing. You’ve got three months to marry one of my grandsons and one year after the wedding to get pregnant. Otherwise, Tidewater gets sold to Cobb.”

  Willa jumped up again with a shriek. “What? You can’t do that, you old rat! You can’t make me get married and then get pregnant!” She grabbed for anything on the desk and hurled it at Bram.

  The television screen exploded with a crash. Pandemonium broke out again as Sam lunged for Willa, and Jesse and Ben fell off their chairs in laughter. Warren Cobb was barking with glee, and all of the other guests were shouting in outrage.

  “Willa. Calm down,” Sam growled as she looked for another missile.

  “It’s not funny, Ben!” she screamed, suddenly heading for him. “It’s not one stinking bit funny!”

  “You broke the television, Willa,” Ben sputtered.

  “Well, why not?” Jesse drawled. “It’s her television.”

  Willa froze, and her face drained of color as she stared at the two men.

  “I think it’s time to clear the room,” Sam said.

  Spencer hastily jumped up and dismissed everyone.

  “Get Ronald to bring in another television,” Sam told him as the room slowly cleared.

  All except for Warren Cobb, that is.

  Sam walked over to Bram’s desk, picked up the cane leaning against it, and handed it to the man who was grinning at him. “No need to wait around, Cobb. We’ll send you an invitation to the wedding.”

  “You sure there’ll be one?” Warren asked.

  “There will be.”

  “To which grandson?”

  “I guess you’ll have to wait for your invitation to find out.” Sam gave Warren a piercing inspection. “So, Rose married Bram instead of you, is that it?”

  “Bram stole her from me.”

  “I’d say Rose made her choice.”

  Warren smiled nastily. “Well, Sinclair, if Willamina Kent decides none of you is worth the trouble, maybe I’ll just set my own grandsons after her. If she’s been handpicked by Abram Sinclair, that’s good enough for me.”

  “I’ve had it! Do you hear me? I’ve had enough!” Willa hollered.

  “We hear you, Willa,” Sam said, walking over and taking hold of her shoulders. “And so did half of Connecticut. You need to calm down and take a seat. I’m afraid there’s probably more.”

  “More?” she squeaked. “How much more can there be?” She collapsed onto the chair Jesse had thoughtfully placed behind her.

  “Just a few details,” Sam assured her. “That’s all.”

  She blinked up, looking so confused and defeated that he wanted to whisk her away as fast and as far as he could.

  Damn Abram. The interfering old fool had shocked their partridge senseless. She was beyond comprehension; the details would go right over her head.

  But not over Jesse’s and Ben’s. They’d moved their chairs to flank Willa while Ronald hooked up a new television. Sam seemed to be the only one who understood Bram’s puppeteering.

  This entire fiasco was the old man’s attempt to coax a lost little bird out of her hidey-hole and back into life. That, and to get a great-grandchild, even from his grave. Sam couldn’t fault Bram’s choice of a bride; like his grandfather, he could see the entire woman, ghosts and gifts and gentle soul.

  The old man was ensuring the future of his dynasty, he was giving a special woman the kick in the pants she needed, and he was telling his grandsons that he loved them enough to cut them free of Tidewater International, giving them all a new chance at life. He was telling the four of them to live as wildly and as fully as he had. Eventually, Jesse and Ben would see that, just as he had. Willa, however, would definitely need prodding in the right direction.

  “Now, Willa, honey,” came Bram’s voice again from the television. “I know you’re probably steaming mad right now, but you’ll get over it.”

  Sam glanced over at Willa, who had closed her eyes. But she couldn’t close her ears.

  “Now, you boys listen up if you’re interested in marrying Willa. She’s got this fool notion that she’s too accident-prone to have a baby. She’s afraid she’ll end up harming her child, just like she thinks she did her niece.” Bram snorted. “It’s up to you to convince her that she didn’t maim Jennifer but saved the girl’s life. So, one of you marry Willa, and get her pregnant.” He pointed his finger. “After the wedding!”

  Abram slumped in his chair at the table, and his eyes filled with moisture. “Someday you’ll thank me, Willa,” he said softly. “And maybe someday you’ll forgive me. I love you, girl, like the daughter I never had. I wish I’d met you sooner.” Bram swiped at his eyes.

  Then, he looked up, his eyes warm yet piercing. “I want you boys to understand why I’ve left everything to Willa here and not to you. Sam, Ben, Jesse, you’re fine, capable men, and you love one another. I know there’s no competition among you for Tidewater. And I know you’ve stayed with the company only for my sake. But it’s a good legacy I’ve built, and I’d like to see it stay intact. But only one of you should have it. You others can move on now. Find good women, have children, and enjoy yourselves.

  “When I thought I could take no more, you boys were there, giving me strength. I have loved you three with all my heart. That’s why I couldn’t choose one of you, and that’s why I still can’t. All I can do is say thank you for loving me back. Don’t mourn me. Just remember me. Good-bye, boys. Have a grand life.”

  Chapter Eight

  The television screen went to snow.

  Ben stood and walked to the office window, his shoulders stiff. Jesse stayed seated, his elbows on his knees as he stared down at the floor. Willa remained utterly still, tears running down her face. Sam pulled the knot of his tie apart and slipped the confining silk free of his neck. He rolled it up with slow deliberation, until he’d formed a neat coil that he placed in his jacket pocket.

  “He can’t really do what he’s done, can he?” Willa asked, her stilted voice intruding into the silence.

  “He has,” Sam said, washing a worried gaze over her. He reached out and tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. “It will be okay, honey. We’ll work it out together.”

  “I can’t get married, Sam. And I can’t ever have children.”

  “You can’t let Warren Cobb have Tidewater, Willa,” Ben said from the window, not turning around. “I’d rather destroy it myself than give Cobb the pleasure.” He turned to her. “Which is what he’ll do. Tidewater will be like Carthage, with not a stone left standing when he’s done.”

  “Warren hates Abram that much?”

  “He apparently loved Rose that much.”

  “And thus makes a sixty-year war between friends,” Ben said tonelessly, looking at the snowy television. “Now it’s up to us to end the war by winning it.”

  Spencer cleared his throat and stood up. “I have some papers that need to be signed. I’m sorry to have to do this now, but they’re important.”

  “What are they?” Sam asked.

  “Legal transfers of ownership for Rosebriar, the bankbook, and Bram’s stocks in Tidewate
r for Willa to sign.”

  “What happens if I don’t sign them?” she asked, hope in her voice.

  Spencer appeared startled. “Well, I guess things will sit in limbo for three months. Bills won’t get paid, people won’t get their salaries, and Tidewater International will erupt into chaos.”

  “I see.”

  “Everything’s yours, Willa, whether you want it or not,” the lawyer explained. “Bram’s will is sound. If you’re not married to a Sinclair in three months, Bram’s shares in Tidewater get sold to Warren Cobb.”

  “And what about Rosebriar and the bankbook?” she asked, frowning at the stack of papers on the desk Spencer had been sitting at.

  “Everything else is yours to keep.”

  Willa took a shuddering breath. “And mine to give away?”

  “That’s complicated,” Spencer cautioned. “Bram’s will specifically states that you may not turn anything over to his grandsons. Not unless you’re married to one of them. And you must get pregnant. Only then can you do whatever you want with everything.”

  “Is that legal? Can Abram bequeath me a gift and then still control it?”

  “He can entail the inheritance. You could try breaking it in court, but it would probably stand. Tying legacies to lineage, thus making it contingent on your conceiving, is a time-honored tradition based in ancient law. Families have been doing it for centuries.”

  “What happens to all of this if something happens to me in the next three months?” Willa asked.

  “Nothing’s going to happen,” Sam snapped.

  “But what if it does?” she shot back, raising her chin.

  “There are provisions,” Spencer quickly replied. “Legally, Bram had to consider that possibility. If something happens to you, Rosebriar and the money will be equally divided among the three grandsons. But the Tidewater shares will still be sold to Warren Cobb.”

  Sam gave her a lopsided smile. “You’re a wealthy woman now. And would marriage really be so bad?”

  “My last one was!” she snapped, glaring at him and then turning her glare on Spencer. “Give me the damn papers to sign. I wouldn’t want the electricity cut off for nonpayment of the bill.”

  “Uh-oh. She’s mad now,” Jesse chirped, walking to the desk. “We’d better be nice to her, guys, or we’re liable to be looking for a place to sleep tonight.” He gave Willa a daring grin. “You gonna kick us out of your home, little partridge?”

  “What is it with this partridge thing?”

  Sam shot a warning glare at Jesse.

  “It’s just something…um, Bram said in one of his memos to the office. He mentioned seeing a partridge where he was staying,” Jesse quickly prevaricated.

  Willa snorted. “Well, Bram still owes me for the casket.”

  “I think he’s paid you in full, Willa,” Ben said with a chuckle, holding the open bankbook out to her.

  Sam watched Willa read the numbers. “I can’t even count all the zeros!”

  “Enough to cover the cost of his casket?” Jesse grinned.

  Willa slapped the bankbook onto the desk with a crack. “Each and every one of you can go straight to hell.” She spun on her heel and stalked away. “And join your grandfather!”

  The windows rattled with the force of the slammed door.

  “She’s in a bit of a snit,” Jesse said, picking up the bankbook and letting out a soft whistle. “Most women would be rather pleased right about now.” He waved the book at his brothers. “She could buy a small nation with this kind of money.”

  “Or a husband,” Ben speculated. He looked at the door. “Was her first marriage that bad, do you suppose?”

  “I don’t think marriage is the problem,” Sam offered. “Remember last night, when she told us how she was responsible for maiming her niece? She’s scared to have children, because she’s afraid she might harm them.”

  “That’s right,” Spencer added. “Bram saw it. Willamina does have a tendency to…find trouble.”

  “Only because she’s so busy trying to save the world,” Sam explained. “She was so worried about doing well for Bram at the board meeting she couldn’t even get off the elevator without causing a commotion.” Sam turned serious. “Does Warren Cobb know the specifics of the will? Did either you or Bram consider all of the different scenarios?”

  “We did. And Warren Cobb is a smart man,” Spencer answered softly. “He’ll figure it out.”

  “Then we may have a problem.”

  “What?” Ben asked, stiffening.

  “If Willa doesn’t get married in three months to one of us, or if she doesn’t get pregnant within fifteen months, or if she dies, Warren wins.”

  “Cobb wouldn’t do anything drastic,” Jesse said.

  “Sixty years is a long time for hate to fester.”

  Ben cursed. “Then you shouldn’t wait three months to marry her. Unless you’d rather one of us gets the partridge pregnant? I suppose I could volunteer.”

  “For the good of Tidewater?” Sam asked, stepping toward his brother.

  “Tidewater can go straight to hell with Bram, for all I care,” Ben said with a laugh. “Just as long as Cobb doesn’t get it, I don’t care if the whole damn business explodes.”

  “You seem to be the only one of us kissing Willa,” Jesse said, moving between his brothers. “So, what’s the problem?”

  “There is none!” Sam snapped. “Maybe I’ll just ask her to marry me right now. ‘And while you’re signing the marriage license, would you please sign over the Tidewater shares while you’re at it?’” he finished scathingly.

  “But that’s the plan,” Spencer piped up.

  Sam growled, “Did you or Bram consider how Willa will feel, thinking she’s merely a prize? She’s going to think I’m marrying her only to get Tidewater.”

  “But you will be,” Spencer pointed out.

  “Dammit! It’s not the business I want!”

  “You’ll be getting Willa, too!” Spencer shouted.

  “That’s enough. Calm down, both of you,” Ben said. “We’ll figure something out. Together we’ll find a way to convince Willa it’s her you want.”

  “You really want her?” Spencer had the nerve to ask.

  “Yes,” Sam snapped. “And like my brothers, I don’t care if Tidewater rots.”

  “But Bram worked his whole life to build that company.”

  “He needed it. We don’t.”

  “What about Rosebriar? Don’t you want it?”

  “We can build elsewhere on the estate,” Jesse said. “Sam will probably be busy making caskets in Maine most of the time, anyway.”

  “Just as long as Warren Cobb and his damned grandsons are out of the picture,” Sam growled.

  “Have you met any of his grandsons?” Spencer asked.

  “Yup. And if you think Warren’s bad, you should see them.”

  “He’s got four, hasn’t he?” Ben asked.

  “Warren had six children,” Spencer told them. “Four daughters and two sons. And several grandchildren now. I don’t remember the exact number.”

  “The old bastard didn’t pine for Rose long,” Jesse drawled.

  “He married about four years after Bram did,” Spencer said. “And he married money. That’s how he got his start.”

  “Then I can’t imagine them holding a grudge for sixty years.”

  “It was heated at first, until they both got busy building their empires. It’s only been minor skirmishes for the last thirty years.”

  “Then Willa shouldn’t be in any danger,” Jesse speculated.

  “Don’t bank on it,” Spencer offered. “One of his grandsons, Barry Cobb, is ten times worse than old man Warren. And he hopes to gain his grandfather’s favor. It would be my guess that most of the battles Tidewater has fought lately have been because of Barry.”

  “But why? The feud’s two generations removed from him.”

  “All of the children were raised on stories tainted with Warren’s bitterness,” Spe
ncer explained. “Most of them could care less, but with Barry, it took. He’d like nothing better than to bring down Bram’s company for his grandfather.”

  “So, now we know where to look for trouble,” Sam said. “We keep Willa safe, and we keep a close eye on Barry Cobb.”

  “We’ll do the watching, brother—you concentrate on wooing your bride. Then you can start making a baby. Fifteen months isn’t all that long,” Ben said.

  Sam gave his brother a challenging grin. “One million bucks says I get her pregnant within two months of our wedding.”

  Ben’s eyebrows climbed into his hairline. “A million?”

  “Each.”

  Jesse’s eyebrows went the way of his brother’s. “Pretty cock sure, aren’t you?”

  “Eleven months from the wedding, I’ll consider accepting your christening gifts.”

  “You’re on!” Jesse said. “One million each, to be set in trust for your kid. One day past eleven months, though, and you set up trusts for our future offspring.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Deal.”

  “Deal.”

  Three hours of crying hadn’t helped, and the laughter Willa heard coming from the office only added to her anger. It had begun drifting up the stairs two hours ago in increasingly boisterous waves.

  It was obvious that those three pitiful excuses for grandsons were getting roaring drunk. They’d put Abram in the ground not ten hours ago, and now they were carrying on like uncivilized baboons. The ungrateful wretches.

  Bram included.

  The old goat had trapped her smartly. He’d known she wouldn’t be able to turn her back on a company full of people who depended on it for survival. Just as he’d known she was too damned softhearted to let Tidewater fall into the hands of a man whose lifelong ambition was to make anyone named Sinclair suffer.

  If she married one of the grandsons, it would become her name too, and her war. But if she walked away, everyone suffered. Warren Cobb would destroy Tidewater. Jobs would be lost. Sam and Ben and Jesse would have lost not only their grandfather but their heritage. And if that happened, she would never be able to live with herself.