Teresa Bodwell by Loving Miranda Page A

straight jaw that he wanted to caress all the more because of the ragged scar that marred its perfect surface.
    “You can see that Jonathan is a part of this family. Mercy and Thad have given him all their love.”
    “It’s obvious the boy cares for them.”
    “But you ain’t sure their affection is sincere? Why do you suppose they took him in?”
    “Why, indeed?”
    She blew an exasperated breath out of her nostrils. “For pity’s sake, they have treated the boy as their own son and they plan to legally adopt him.”
    “Which will put them in complete and final control of his inheritance.”
    Her eyebrows went up. She shook her head, which set some of the curls that had strayed out of her hair ribbon bouncing. “Is that the only thing a Lansing can think about—money?” Her hands went to her hips. “It ain’t the boy you’re considerin’ at all.”
    He took a step toward her and stared into her eyes. “You have no right to speak of my family in that tone.”
    She stepped back, wrapping her arms around herself as though warding off a chill. “Then prove me wrong.” She stepped back toward him, challenging him again. “Show me you have some . . . feeling for something other than wealth.”
    He reached for one of the golden curls and she flinched. He let his hand drop to his side.
    “I’m not the one who has anything to prove.” He kept his voice quiet. “If the Buchanans can show me what they’ve done with the money—”
    “Money again. You see—”
    “Yes, money!” The woman would try the patience of a monk. If it weren’t for little Jonathan, he might surrender now. “So we understand each other, I will state my position in the simplest possible terms.”
    “I am not a simple—”
    He raised his hand to cut her off. “Don’t put words in my mouth, Miranda. I’m not accusing you of being dim-witted.” Mule-headed would be more accurate . “Just hear me out. I won’t leave here until I’m certain that his inheritance is safe—for Jonathan’s sake. It is not to be used to enrich the Buchanans or the other children they will have. My nephew has nothing left of his father except his name and his fortune. I will make certain the lad keeps both of those things. And I’m quite sure any judge will agree with me.”
    “You’d go to the judge to stop this adoption?”
    “Damn right I will.”
    He pivoted and marched over to his horse, Miranda following on his heels. She reached up and grabbed his shoulder.
    “Please, you can’t do that.”
    “I must do what I feel is right.”
    “It’ll break my sister’s heart.”
    “Frankly, your sister doesn’t matter to me.” Ben nodded toward the house. “That little boy is all I care about.”
    He swung a leg over the horse the Wyatts had lent him and headed toward the muddy road. He’d come to Fort Victory with a clear mission—to get his money and get the hell out. Sometime in the last hour, his duty had changed.
     
     
    Miranda watched Benjamin ride away, his horse splashing in the mud left by last night’s rainfall. The sky darkened as a cloud covered the sun. She wrapped her arms around herself, guarding against the chill. Just the damp air. It has nothing to do with that man. Miranda bit her lip. He hadn’t done anything to threaten her, still she’d backed away from him in fear. She lifted her head. At least she’d kept her wits and stood up to him. She wouldn’t let her fears keep her from defending her family.
    “Mr. Lansing left?”
    Miranda turned to see her sister looking after the horse that was only a speck against the horizon now.
    “He’ll be back,” Miranda said, lifting her leaden feet to carry her back to the house.
    “What did he say?”
    She looked at her sister, then away. She couldn’t bring herself to look into Mercy’s piercing green eyes. But her sister’s gentle touch on her shoulder kept her from moving away.
    “He wants Jonathan.” Mercy’s fearful whisper forced Miranda to turn and face her