Past Tense (16 page)

A short time later he saw Sam and her aunt get into a chauffeur-driven BMW. Was Sam in danger? Although he didn’t completely trust Olivia, he couldn’t see her being a part of any plot to harm Sam. She would be safe enough for the day. In any case, short of following them, what could he do?

* * * *

“Who is this friend that we’re seeing?” Sam asked as the car left the city traffic and purred onto a broad country road lined with chestnut trees.

Aunt Olivia patted her knee. “It’s a surprise. You used to like surprises, didn’t you, Samantha?”

There had been too many surprises during the past weeks. Sam suppressed a shiver. “I was a child then.”

“You’ll like it, Samantha.” Olivia’s smile was confident. “You’ll see.”

The driver turned off into a narrow lane. White Charolais cattle grazed in the grassy meadows on either side. The pastoral tranquility was broken only by the sight of a power plant in the distance, and the column of steam that drifted lazily into the blue sky.

“Here we are,” Aunt Olivia announced as the car stopped before a sturdy wooden gate set in a high brick wall. The gate stood half open, and the garden beyond was lush with roses, asters and bright yellow chrysanthemums. “It’s just a simple country house.”

Simple, perhaps, Sam thought as they stepped through the gate and started up the flagstone path. But it certainly looked substantial, a two story building made of softly weathered bricks and topped with a tiled roof. Lace curtains billowed from several windows that stood open to the warm day.

They had almost reached the front door when Olivia laid a hand on Sam’s arm. She wore a worried frown. “Now, Samantha, I want you to promise you won’t be angry. I’m doing this for your own good.”

Before Sam could formulate a reply, the door opened.

“Hi, Sam,” said Bennett Price, a broad smile on his handsome face. “I’m so glad you could come.”

Chapter Eleven

Bennett here? How could Aunt Olivia have done this to her? Anger mixed with fear gripped her.

“Come in,” Bennett said, pulling the door wider and gesturing with his hand. “I’ve got coffee waiting on the terrace.”

Sam took a deep breath, slowing her racing heart. Bennett looked as she remembered him, suave, well dressed in khaki trousers and a knit shirt with a designer symbol on the pocket. Normal. A man spending the weekend at his country home.

There was no danger, she told herself. She knew the man—she’d been engaged to him. And if he meant her harm, there was nothing he could do in front of Aunt Olivia.

Glancing sideways at her aunt, she took in the smiling face. Why, Olivia sincerely believed she was doing the right thing. In view of that, Sam couldn’t do anything but make the best of the situation. She would stay for coffee. After that she would find some excuse to leave, with or without her aunt.

To Sam’s surprise Bennett’s manner continued to be friendly as he led them through the house and onto a sunny terrace at the back. A table was set with china cups, a silver coffee service, and plates of pastries. He held each of their chairs in turn, and poured out the coffee before seating himself next to Sam.

“Cream and sugar, Sam?” His eyes were very blue, free of guile or rancor as he passed her the tray.

“Thank you.” She stirred her coffee, inhaling the rich aroma. “How have you been, Bennett?”

“Fine. Couldn’t be better, in fact. Business is booming. Have an éclair. They’re very good. What about you, Olivia?”

Olivia gave her charming laugh, the one she used mainly on men. “Not for me, thanks. Too many calories.”

“You needn’t worry,” Bennett said graciously. “But if you feel you’d like some exercise, we could go riding later.”

“We’ll see.”

He turned to Samantha. “How about it, Sam?”

“I don’t have any riding clothes.” The light breeze suddenly shifted, playing a cool breath over her skin. “Some other time.”

“Really, Sam, it’s no problem. There are plenty of spare clothes in the cloakroom.”

Sam gulped down some of her coffee, fighting against her urge to flee. “Okay, we’ll go riding, if that’s what you want.” Better to confront her fears than to let them control her.

Olivia declined, saying she’d rather explore the gardens and adjacent orchard. Bennett chatted pleasantly as he showed Sam to the cloakroom at the back of the house.

“I’m sure you’ll find something to fit you here.” He turned, leaving her staring after him as he left to saddle the horses.

Could two people change this much in six months? First her aunt. Now Bennett. Actually Bennett hadn’t changed much. In fact, his good nature reminded her of how he’d been when they’d started dating. He’d been thoughtful, bringing her flowers and consulting her on what they would do, where they would go. It had only been in the last weeks before the wedding that he’d become uncommunicative and difficult.

She thought back to the day at her father’s house, but found it impossible to conjure up the expression she’d glimpsed on Bennett’s face as he’d cleaned the floor.

Shaking her head she dug jeans out of the closet, holding them against her to judge the size. The incident was beginning to seem more like a half-remembered nightmare than reality.

When she came out a few minutes later, she was still on guard, but her outward composure indicated only the anticipation of a pleasant ride in the country.

Bennett was waiting at the end of the terrace. “I see you even found boots,” he said, leading forward a chestnut gelding and a tall bay mare.

Sam lifted her foot, wriggling her toes. “A little snug but they’ll be fine. It’s not as if we’re walking.”

He laughed, and held the stirrup as she mounted the gelding, adjusting the leathers to her leg. His touch was impersonal, adding to Sam’s perplexity. If he wanted her back, as Aunt Olivia had implied, wouldn’t he come on stronger?

The horses cantered down the path through the orchard, breaking into a gallop once they reached the open meadows. Samantha’s mount was skittish, pulling on the reins, his mane tossing into her face.

Knees gripping the saddle, Sam collected him in a firm hold, slowing his headlong rush over a hill dotted with trees. It had been a while since she’d ridden, but she welcomed the struggle with the horse, an element over which she had control, if not by physical power, then with the strength of her will.

A fence appeared ahead. Sam leaned forward, slackening the reins marginally. The chestnut stretched his neck and cleared the wooden rails with room to spare. Tossing back her hair, Sam laughed in exhilaration.

She glanced at Bennett whose mount had also cleared the barrier. “Thanks. I hadn’t realized how much I missed riding.”

They slowed to a trot, then a walk. The sun beat down on Sam’s head and for the first time in days she felt free, happy. Even the presence of Bennett couldn’t dampen her spirits.

Until he suggested they stop. “Sam, we need to talk.”

She kept her eyes fixed on a point between the horse’s pricked ears. “I don’t think we have much to talk about.”

“We do.” His voice was low, but a harsh note in it brought her head around. “Our marriage, for example.” He nudged his mare close to her and took hold of the chestnut’s bridle. “Let’s stop here for a moment.”

Samantha searched his face. Deep lines of tension bracketed his mouth. He looked strained, dark smudges from lack of sleep evident in the strong sunlight. “Okay, for a moment.”

They dismounted in a little copse of trees. Sam sat down with her back against a tree trunk, stretching her legs in front of her. Bennett loosely tethered the horses to a fallen log so they could graze. Dusting his hands, he came over and sank down on the grass next to Sam.

“You know, Sam, it wasn’t easy tracking you down.”

She hadn’t expected him to volunteer the truth she’d suspected. Deciding that she would learn more about his intentions by keeping cool, she lifted her brow, affecting nonchalance. “Oh? I don’t know why you went to all that trouble anyway, Bennett. I left you a letter saying I was leaving. Our relationship was finished.”

“Not as far as I was concerned.” Bitterness crept into his voice. “Still, I was willing to give you a few months to sort yourself out. You were upset over your father’s death. But I thought you’d come back on your own. And those postcards weren’t too helpful. By the middle of July I was worried. I hired somebody to find you. You covered your tracks well, Sam.”

“Not well enough, obviously,” Sam said. “How did you find me?”

“Bank records. Your Montréal bank had made a large transfer to London, which narrowed down the search.”

Sam stared at him. When she’d purchased her flat, half the price had been paid on signing. She’d had enough funds in the account she kept in London for vacations and shopping expeditions to cover the first payment, but had had the balance transferred through Mr. Collins. “I thought bank transactions were confidential.”

“You have to know the right people. But even after that, it wasn’t easy since the transaction was made under your changed name. Through real estate sales, which are on public record we narrowed it down, eventually to two possibilities, you and another woman in St John’s Wood. She looked a lot like you.”

He smiled almost sadly. “I’m sorry if I frightened you with that note on the brochure, but we had to make sure it was you.”

A hot tide of rage made her want to knock the complacent smile off his face. But she quelled it firmly. “So you had somebody watching my flat.”

“I’m afraid so, but when you didn’t react, we had to do something else to confirm your address. That bumbling idiot grabbed the wrong woman, but he redeemed himself by getting it from Collins’ office, along with some other information we needed.”

“What about Miss Hunnicott?” Sam had regained an icy control.

“Who?”

“The old lady who lived in my building. She was killed.”

Bennett spread his hands wide. “Not by me. I don’t prey on old ladies.”

He plucked a blade of grass and chewed on the end of it. “Why did you go, Sam? The real reason.” He spoke with deceptive calm, but as he lifted his eyes to meet hers, she saw a cold hard glitter in them.

So he didn’t know. He might be angry, the injured party but a broken engagement wouldn’t hurt his public image. A confirmed connection with Claude Germain would.

Bracing her spine, she said coolly, “I realized you weren’t the man I’d thought. I made a mistake.”

He reached over and ran his fingertip softly down her cheek, smiling faintly as she jerked her head back. “Your mistake, Sam? Or mine? What did you hear that day?”

“What day?” By some miracle she kept her voice steady, hiding the trembling in her hands by clasping them around her knees. “I don’t understand.”

“I think you do,” he said silkily. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have changed your appearance and your name.” He eyed her speculatively. “You want to know what I think? You were scared and you ran. But it’s time you stopped. Our marriage would work. It’s a whole different game now.”

Sam jumped to her feet, running to her horse and yanking free the reins. “It’s not a game, Bennett. It’s never been a game. I couldn’t marry a man who had so little feeling.”

“Little feeling,” he snarled as he came toward her. He clamped his fingers around her arm, keeping her from mounting the horse. “I wanted you, never mind that you looked like the ice princess. I knew, Sam. I knew about the Italian and that little wimp you led by the nose later.”

New anger kindled within her, giving her strength to pull away. Deftly, despite the shaking of her fingers, she adjusted the chestnut’s bridle. She leveled her gaze at him. “That was in the past. I learned from that experience. I thought you were different, but I found out in time that you weren’t what I wanted in marriage, either. It’s not a crime to make mistakes, not if you learn from them.”

“I wasn’t good enough for you. Is that what you thought, Sam?” His face was flushed, his tone ugly.

“That had nothing to do with it. Marriage should be based on love, and I don’t love you.”

“Love.” He spat the word as if it tasted bad. “Only fools marry for love. Smart people marry for opportunity. You’d be wise to go along with me and make our marriage a real one.”

Sam paused with one foot in the stirrup. Had he taken leave of his senses? “We’re not married,” she said tonelessly.

His smile was almost gentle, but Sam had an image of a torturer inserting a needle into his helpless victim. “Oh, but we could be, my dear Samantha. So easily.” Reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket, he pulled out a stiff paper, which he calmly unfolded.

Sam set her foot on the ground so suddenly the stirrup slapped against the horse’s flank. He snorted, stamping his hooves and nearly pulling the reins free. Absently she rubbed his neck as she stared at the document in Bennett’s hand.

“A marriage certificate, Samantha. All you have to do is sign it. We’ll tell everybody I arranged to meet you in London and we got married. No one would know the difference.”

“This isn’t legal.” Sam’s lips felt stiff, as if her mouth had frozen.

“Isn’t it, Sam?” he taunted with a mirthless laugh. “I’ve laid the groundwork well. Once it’s signed, it will stand up.”

Would it? She didn’t know, not without consulting a lawyer. But she had no doubt that Bennett had plenty of tricks up his sleeve. If she died, and he could prove they’d been married…

The terms of the prenuptial agreement swam around in her head. Six months were nearly up. Was she more valuable to him alive or dead?

The wind sighed in the trees, shaking down a couple of dry leaves. Next to her, the horse chomped noisily on a tuft of grass. Their isolation hit her. If Bennett wanted her dead, a riding accident would be the perfect cover.

“What do you want from me, Bennett?”

“Your cooperation.”

She swung herself up into the saddle, gathering the reins. The horse, sensing the tension in her, danced nervously, teeth snapping on the bit. Before Bennett could react Samantha slapped the animal’s neck with her open palm, sending him into a wild gallop down the hill.

“Hey!”

She heard Bennett’s yell behind her, but made no attempt to stop her headlong race across a dried-up pond and over the rail fence. The horse stumbled once, but by sheer reflex she managed to keep him on his feet, sparing only a passing thought for his safety. Her own was more important.