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The pudgy, small-town counselor, still shaken, seemed determined to stand his ground. That, more than anything, gave Lucas pause.
He’d already admitted, if only to himself, that Felix might have agreed to this nonsense. Not the marriage contract, of course. That, without question, was something McDonough or Norton or the woman had slipped into the agreement.
But Felix might have said he’d buy the ranch for twice its worth. He was an old man; he was not well; Aloysius McDonough had been his friend.
Why wait until he returned to Spain to ask Felix about the contract? He could get the answers he needed now and close the book on this mess.
If Felix said he had agreed to the purchase, Lucas would honor the contract terms. He’d write out a check and walk away.
The rest, the marriage agreement, the thing these two maniacs kept calling a stipulation, was a joke. He’d mention it to Felix if only for a laugh.
Lucas took his cell phone from his pocket. It was some ungodly hour of the morning back home but he didn’t give a damn.
It was time to get to the bottom of this.
“Out,” he commanded.
The attorney bolted. Alyssa stayed where she was, arms folded.
“This concerns me as much as you,” she said coldly. “I’m not leaving.”
Lucas inclined his head. “Stay, by all means, chica,” he said, just as coldly, “so I can see your face when my grandfather laughs at the supposed ‘stipulation.’”
There were plenty of transmission bars now.
Lucas dialed his grandfather’s private number. It rang a long time; the voice that finally answered was not a voice he knew.
“Who is this?” it said cautiously.
“Prince Lucas,” Lucas snapped. “Who is this?”
“I am—”
Lucas heard snatches of unintelligible conversation, then Felix’s familiar voice.
“Lucas?”
“Si, Grandfather. Who was that?”
“No one of importance. A new secretary. Where are you?”
“I am where you sent me. At El Rancho Grande…a misnomer if ever there was one.”
“And what do you think, mi hijo?”
“I just told you. The place is in terrible condition. The outbuildings are falling down, the land is played out, there’s no stock—”
“I know all that,” Felix said impatiently. “What of the rest?”
“What rest, Grandfather? Do you mean the mare? There is no mare. There is nothing here except an attorney who insists we owe a final payment of twice what the land is worth and a woman who needs lessons in manners.”
Silence. Then Felix gave a low laugh. “So her father told me, Lucas. The question is, are you the man to give them to her?”
The hair rose on the back of Lucas’s neck. He turned toward Alyssa, still standing as she had been, back straight, arms folded, chin elevated at an angle so high it seemed impossible.
“Abuelo,” Lucas said softly, “what do you mean?”
“It’s a simple question, mi nieto. Are you man enough to tame this mare?” Felix’s tone turned sly. “Although my understanding is that my old friend’s daughter is better described as a filly than a mare. Do you agree, Lucas?”
