Follow the Sun (9 page)

“Be serious!”

Hearing the wistfulness in her voice, he stopped teasing. “Where they stayed until the federal government gave up trying to find them. A lot of them died from starvation. Those who survived helped form the eastern Cherokee band, and today they have a reservation in the same mountains where they took refuge a hundred and fifty years ago.”

“Very good!”

“We should catch a quick flight up to San Francisco tomorrow and find your great-great-grandparents’ graves.”

“Would you mind?” she asked. “You must be bored by this personal-history quest of mine.”

He rose, stretched, then came to her and tilted her chin up with a caressing hand. “No, I want to learn everything about you and your past.”

Tess turned her face and kissed his palm. It didn’t matter that he was learning a great deal more about her personal life than she was learning about his. He just needed time to open up.

“I’ll make the arrangements,” she murmured against the warm hollow of his hand.

“I’ve already made them.”

Tess looked up at him quickly, a pleased smile on
her face. He touched his fingers to her lips and winked at her.

P
EOPLE WHO HAVE
a good sense of humor usually have a good sense of humanity and of life, an aborigine shaman had once told Jeopard.

The man was a friend of Millie’s husband. Brig McKay. In terms of outlook and personality Brig resembled a real-life Crocodile Dundee, and his Aussie friends were as eccentric as anything ever shown on a movie screen.

The shaman, enjoying an extended visit to Millie and Brig’s home in Nashville, wore bib overalls and played the harmonica. He owned a grocery store in Brig’s Australian hometown, Washaway Loo.

Not exactly a child of nature. Jeopard had thought.

But the shaman could predict rainstorms and tell how long the summer would last, and two weeks before Millie noticed any change in her body he’d informed her that she was going to have a baby.

When Jeopard met the shaman, the man had looked into his eyes for a long time and said, “You will be your own destruction.”

That prediction had upset Jeopard more than he’d ever admitted. It came back to him even today, in the midst of a breezy, sun-soaked California afternoon while the ocean shushed peacefully outside the open windows of his cabin and sea gulls floated in the sky like small angels.

Jeopard knew the cause of his depression. He was going to make a phone call to Kyle while Tess took care of some minor chores aboard her boat. He felt sneaky, confused, and reluctant to tell Kyle anything ugly about Tess. All bad signs.

He was doing his job, doing it exactly as planned, and with any luck he’d get his hands on the Kara diamond in time for Olaf, pompous little ass and Duke of Kara, to unveil it for his subjects before his coronation ceremony. Olaf, who was the opposite of his
popular aunt, the recently deceased Queen Isabella, apparently considered the diamond some sort of Holy Grail.

Olaf thought that getting the diamond back into the royal collection would improve his image. Jeopard smiled grimly. True. Everyone in Kara would then think of Olaf as a pompous little
ingenious
ass.

Jeopard tucked the phone into the crook of his neck and watched Tess come out of the
Lady
’s cabin. It was impossible to look at her without aching to hold her. Even thinking about her put him into hyper-arousal.

She’d changed from her black swimsuit into a peach-colored sundress with a halter top. Her skirt swung fluidly around her bare legs as she moved about the sailboat, polishing bits of its trim with an old rag. Her dark hair fluttered like curtains about her face and neck.

She turned toward the
Irresistible
as if she felt his gaze, though Jeopard knew that she couldn’t see into the dark interior of his cabin from where she stood. She smiled, raised a slender, honey-dark hand to her lips, and blew him a kiss.

Then she went back to her chores.

I could watch you for the rest of my life
.

His phone connection went through, and Kyle answered.

“Hey. Kyle. It’s me, the brother you idolize.”

Kyle, a colorful talker, began a detailed and bawdy analysis of Jeopard’s faults. The point seemed to be that he’d expected a phone call long before.

“How’s it going with the seduction of the sea witch?” Kyle finally asked.

Distracted, Jeopard thought for a moment, then said, “She’s having me to tea tomorrow.” He cleared his throat. “Did you find out where the duke’s people got their information on her?”

“They’re vague. Kept saying they’d interviewed people who know her, but they wouldn’t say who. But I double-checked the background on the diamond, and that’s legit. It belonged to Queen Isabella, and it
was stolen twenty years ago while she was visiting England.

“It was a hell of an embarrassment for the Brits, Jep. I talked to Edwards at Scotland Yard. He remembers the case. Royce Benedict was the prime suspect, but he had an alibi. They couldn’t nail him, though they felt sure he was responsible.”

Kyle laughed. “He was cocky. He’d stolen a million dollars in jewelry from Queen Isabella a few years before that. Served time in prison for it. The gems were recovered.”

“What was this guy—the royal thief of Kara?”

“Sounds that way.”

“Kyle, doesn’t it strike you as odd that nobody wanted the Blue Princess back until now?”

“Look, the thing’s not worth that much, as royal trinkets go. Apparently the Queen just wanted to forget the whole incident. After she died last year, Olaf decided somebody ought to settle the old score with Benedict. He’s the vengeful type, from what I’ve learned.”

“Good work, kid. I’ll remember You at Christmas.”

“Jep, Olafs people want the diamond before the end of the week. The duke needs a public-relations victory real bad right now.”

“Oh?”

“To put it simply, his future subjects think he’s a dirt-sucking scum bag. There’s a movement afoot in the parliament to kick him out and make the country a democracy.”

“Fine. I’d like that.”

“But they can’t without rewriting their constitution. It says Kara remains a monarchy as long as there’s a royal heir to the throne.”

“I hope Olaf is the last of his species.”

“He is—unless he finds a woman with no taste who wants to have his kids.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“About finding a woman with no taste?”

“About getting the diamond, smart guy. if Tess has it. I don’t think she does.”

“You’re getting softhearted or softheaded or both. Kiss Tess Benedict a few times for me,” Kyle ordered cheerfully.

“You should get so lucky. And she uses her maiden name. It’s Tess Gallatin, not Tess Benedict.”

“She couldn’t wait to forget Benedict, eh?”

Jeopard started to say something in her defense, then frowned. He still didn’t know what had motivated Tess to marry a dying man old enough to be her, grandfather.

He glanced out the window and stiffened with concern. The two college boys—the ones from Royce’s rugby team—stood on the dock talking to Tess. From their downcast expressions he knew they were upset, and Tess looked distressed too.

They handed her a bulky brown grocery sack. She cradled it in her arms and looked inside at the contents. Slowly she turned her face away, and Jeopard could tell from the boys’ awkward, pleading looks that she must be crying.

“I have to go,” Jeopard said abruptly. “I’ll call back later.”

He hung up the phone on Kyle’s startled “But—”

Jeopard reached the dock in front of the
Lady
in time to hear one of the boys say, “I swear, Tess, the dog never did anything like this before.”

She looked from him to Jeopard, her eyes glistening, her expression sorrowful. “Hi.” She introduced them quickly, and the boys shook his hand. They squirmed, disgruntled to have anyone else see their misery.

Jeopard gazed at the bag, then up at Tess. “What’s wrong?”

“There was an accident with my scrapbook.” She gave the boys a sympathetic look. “It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

“My dog chewed it up,” one of the boys explained.

“Tess, we know how much it meant to you,” the other said plaintively.

“Guys, I understand. I really do. Forget it.” Her jaw clenched and she blinked rapidly, trying to smile. “If Royce were here he’d say ‘Why all the bloody nonsense over a heap of paper?’ ”

They smiled back wanly. When they left fifteen minutes later they were still apologizing.

Jeopard studied her carefully, torn between a desire to comfort and the need to interrogate her.

“Come on, we’ll see what we can do,” he murmured. Jeopard put an arm around her shoulders and they went aboard his yacht. Once in his cabin she sank down on the bed and spread out the remnants of the scrapbook. It had been thoroughly mauled.

Looking stricken, she gently arranged pieces of paper containing ripped photographs and newspaper articles. Jeopard sat down near her.

She looked up, her smoky blue eyes miserable. “I don’t have much that belonged to Royce. He brought very few mementos with him when he moved here from England. His daughters received the rest—rightly so, of course.” She touched the ruined scrapbook tenderly. “But that makes what I have more special.”

“I didn’t realize how much he meant to you.”

She tilted her head to one side and studied him quizzically. “Why do you think I married him?”

Tess, I can forgive you for being tempted by a five-million-dollar inheritance
.

“My vanity wants to believe that you were lonely and vulnerable after your father died. Royce represented emotional security.”

She nodded. “At first. But he was hardly a father figure. He was quite a lady’s man—a bit on the retired side in that respect, but a lady’s man nonetheless.” Tess paused. “Your vanity?”

Jeopard smiled devilishly.
Keep it light
, he warned himself. “I hate competition. Tell me you married him for his money.”

She laughed. ‘Of course. Isn’t that why all young women marry older men?”

Jeopard watched her gaze at the destroyed scrapbook again. Tears pooled in her eyes and slid down her cheeks. She wiped them away hurriedly.

“I’m an awful crybaby these days, I fear. Please don’t think I’m always such a faucet.”

Royce’s money wasn’t what made her cry over a whimsical scrapbook
.

“You really loved Royce,” Jeopard said simply.

“Yes.”

He believed her, and another knot of worry unwound inside him. He was thrilled that she’d adored her husband. Sometime later he’d have to consider the irony of his feelings.

Jeopard paused, planning his next words. “How did his grown daughters feel about having a stepmother younger than they were?”

“They thought their poor dad had gone bonkers, but they weren’t surprised by it. He was never a conformist. I only met them once. They were extremely polite to me.”

“And after Royce died?”

She smiled grimly. “They took their inheritance and bid me an extremely polite farewell. Don’t call us, we’ll call you.”

“They didn’t resent you?”

“Because of the inheritance? Hardly. Royce left everything to them.”

Jeopard stared at her. He had just fallen off a cliff, but he was floating. He prayed that everything she’d told him was true. “How did you feel about that?”

“Oh, I knew he wouldn’t leave me anything. He told me before we got married.”

“But … honey, you took care of the man when he was dying. You suffered with him.”

“Jep, I represented only four years in his life. Hardly anything in comparison to all of his family obligations. He helped me learn a marvelous profession, and I’m very comfortable financially because of that.
Besides, I wasn’t a hired nurse, I was his wife. I didn’t resent having to take care of him toward the end.”

Jeopard looked at her for so long that she shifted awkwardly and covered her face in mock embarrassment. She peeked through her fingers at him.

“Sundance, rest assured that I’m no saint. Stop looking at me that way.”

He pulled her hands to him and kissed each of them. His lips against her warm, smooth skin, he asked gruffly, “Want some help trying to put Royce’s scrapbook back together? I’m great with puzzles.”

“Yes,” she whispered, delighted.

Except in your case
, he added silently.
I’m more lost than ever
.

T
HE MORNING FOG
had just lifted when Jeopard guided their rental car through the steep San Francisco streets. Tess hunched forward in the passenger seat, hands excitedly bending the sheaf of maps and written directions balanced on the knees of her aqua-colored chinos.

He glanced at her and smiled. She was as eager as a kid on the way to Disneyland, and he enjoyed her enthusiasm. In the past few days he’d absorbed her unsullied view of life until he almost felt lighthearted. It was easy to forget that he had work to do, or that he’d failed to get answers to his most important questions.

Did she have the Kara diamond? Had she been Royce’s accomplice?

For today, he’d forget. He wanted to believe that this gentle, classy woman was everything innocent that he was not.

“Drive faster,” she ordered, staring out the car window and impatiently tapping her white sandals on the floorboard.

“It’s going to be at least an hour, Mario Andretti Gallatin. Sit back and take your gear off.”

Her thirty-five-millimeter camera hung from a wide
strap around her neck, indenting the abstract pastels on the chest of the fashionably huge white T-shirt she wore with a wide cloth belt. Also hanging around her neck were her gold medallion and her antler amulet.

Her chocolate-colored hair was pulled back in a French braid. Next to her he felt rather ordinary in a white golf shirt, dusky blue slacks, and Docksiders.

That was all right—in his business, it wasn’t wise to draw attention with flamboyant clothes. He bought the best brands, and he had an eye for color, but he kept his style simple.

“You look like a Yuppie Indian,” Jeopard said teasingly.

She flashed him a droll smile. “Silence, white eyes.”