Billionaire Flawed 1(157)

 “So sorry to tell you, Deputy, but that won’t be possible. This lady just happens to be married to me.”

 MariAnne froze in Clayton’s arms as she heard the voice of nightmares; the low, cold tones she’d hoped against hope never to hear again.

“Leon,” she breathed, raising her head to behold a being who seemed more a demon than a mortal man; a short, stocky man with oily hair and menacing bloodshot eyes.

 “It’s been a good bit since I’ve seen you, dear wife,” Leon sneered, reaching forth to clamp down a hard possessive hand on the surface of MariAnne’s slender shoulder. “I’ve been searching for you day and night, and now—finally—we are reunited.”

 Clayton had heard enough.

 “Do not touch her!” he screeched, knocking Leon’s hand from MariAnne’s shoulder and stepping hard and fast between them. “Leave her alone!”

 Leon stared at him for a long, quiet moment; his gaze turning mocking and depreciating as he told the younger man, “She is my wife, Boy, not yours. And as much as you might try to play the role of the pathetic white knight, saving MariAnne from her scoundrel of a husband, you cannot come between a man and his property.”

 Clayton shook his head.

 “No man’s wife is his property,” he reminded Leon, adding as he held up a firm for emphasis, “And when a man breaks his marriage contract by abusing and mistreating his wife, then he surrenders all claim to her.” He paused here, adding as he pointed his authoritative finger straight in Leon’s face, “The contract that bonded you to this magnificent woman is null and void, Mr. Campbell. And, speaking frankly, you were a complete and total fool to let her go.”

 Leon frowned.

 “Stop spoutin’ nonsense, Boy,” he barked, adding as he pulled himself up to his admittedly impressive height, “I do believe that I could take you in a fight, you varmint—any day of the week. And if you do not step aside immediately and allow me to take what’s rightfully mine, then that is exactly what you will have on your hands: a fight.”

 Clayton grinned.

 “Well if you want a fight, my good man, then you will have one. Just remember that I’ll be bringing both a gun and a badge to this fight—and I am trained and licensed to use both of them,” he pronounced, opening his coat to reveal both in a single smooth flourish.

 His beady eyes widening substantially as they beheld his rival’s polished ivory handled six shooter, Leon stood frozen for a full moment before finally turning away.

 “Fine then, go ahead and take her. Considering the fact that I’ve been biding my time as of late with a couple of lovely saloon girls, I shall be more than pleased to give her the divorce that she so desperately seems to want,” he snapped, adding with a rude gesture in MariAnne’s direction, “The little whore isn’t worth it anyway.”

 Now MariAnne had heard enough.

 “You cretin!” she exclaimed, racing forward to draw back her arm and ball her fist in a threatening manner.

She swore she’d remember and cherish forever the look of abject fear that now crossed her husband’s features; a look that came accompanied by a strangulated moan as she crashed her tiny fist across his jaw—sending him reeling backward through the sheer force of her unleashed, unmitigated rage.

 Regaining his bearings with a pathetic attempt at a moan, a stunned Leon clutched at his bruised jaw as he winced with evident pain; swearing beneath his breath as he straightened his posture and turned dejected in the direction of the door.

 Looking after him with a satisfied smile, MariAnne further reveled in the round of raucous applause that met her bold action; a response delivered by a crowd that obviously shared her poor opinion of her soon to be ex-husband.

 “Feel better now, Sweetheart?” Clayton asked her, taking her hand in his as he graced her with a warm, encouraging smile. “Well I hope that this will make you feel better still.”

 Without further hesitation he took her hands in his, dropping to his knees before her as he reached deep into the pocket of his fine tailored trousers; withdrawing a gleaming diamond ring and holding it upward for her appraisal.

 “My dear MariAnne,” he addressed her, tone both loving and respectful as he asked, “Would you do me the honor of being my wife?”

 MariAnne nodded, her public surroundings dissolving around her as she squeezed Clayton’s fingers between his.

 “I will, my prince,” she told him, adding as she returned his smile, “I love you Clayton, so very much.”