Rachel Donnelly (20 page)

“No. He and his family have a very good life working for me.” There was no pride in his voice, just a statement of fact. “I never ask more than he’s willing to give, and he always gives more than I need.”

“Sounds like a perfect match.” Which allowed her the perfect opening. “You’re very blessed to have such a good friend.”

“Yes.” Nat’s eyes clouded as though he was remembering something — as though a ghost walked between them. Whatever it was, he quickly denied it by flashing a heart-stopping smile, making her catch her breath. “Anything else?”

She’d already come this far. Surely one more question wouldn’t compromise his privacy. “Why build a plantation style home? I mean, if you were trying to make Iago feel at home, why not go all the way and build a Spanish house.”

“Purely selfish reasons. The design is fashioned after my late wife’s home. We were neighbors. I spent a great deal of time there as a child.”

“Oh.” This unexpected bit of confidence froze her tongue. She stood staring at him, wavering between wanting to know more and the unsettling feelings mention of his previous marriage never failed to produce.

He smiled again, this time somewhat wryly. “Is that really what you came here for?”

For a moment all she could do was to stare at his handsome face. He’d smiled twice in a matter of minutes. It was perplexing to say the least. “You’re right.” She finally came to her senses. “There is something I wish to speak to you about.”

He indicated the leather, wing chair across from the large mahogany desk with a short wave. “Very well.”

She perched gingerly on the edge of the chair.

He planted himself across from her to regard her under an expectant brow.

“Inez asked if I would come and speak with you.”

His brow shot higher.

“I don’t like to interfere — ”

He tipped his head back and laughed.

Her blood went hot. “It’s true!” The man really was an oaf. “She begged me to come!”

He made some effort to sober. “Very well, what is so secretive that she must send a perfect stranger to plead her case?”

“She and Heriberto wish to be married.” Seeing his sudden frown, Christie held up one hand. “Now before you say anything, consider that they are madly and deeply in love.”

“So I understand.”

“You knew?”

“Of course.”

She found it difficult to keep the exasperation from her tone. “Then why haven’t you given them your blessing?”

“When Morena comes to me, I will.”

Christie shifted restlessly in her chair. Now the difficulty began. She chose her words carefully. “Perhaps she’s afraid to come to you.”

“Afraid?” He gave her a long look. “Is that what Inez told you?”

“Yes.” Christie licked her dry lips, blundering on before she lost her nerve. “She believes her mother is protecting you from the sad memories a wedding is liable to create.”

His features remained neutral. “I’m sure that’s what Morena wants her to believe.”

“What do you mean?”

Nat expelled a short huff. “Has it occurred to you that Morena is in no hurry for her daughter to marry? That’s why she delays asking my permission?”

“But why wouldn’t she simply tell Inez then? Why build up her hopes each time you come home? That’s very cruel, don’t you think?”

“In the short run it might be, but in the long run Morena might be sparing her daughter a lifetime of unhappiness by giving her time to consider her decision.”

“Doesn’t she approve of Heriberto?”

He shrugged then answered in bored tones. “As far as I know, she likes him very well.”

It didn’t make sense. “But she must have doubts?”

“She just wants Inez to be happy, as we all do.” He picked up a quill on his desk as though in dismissal.

“Very well.” Her voice turned as stiff as her back as she rose from her chair. “I shall urge her to cool her heels. Though I don’t see how she can after having it dangled in her face like a carrot for so long.”

His eyes slid down the length of her. “Controlling their passion will make their pleasure all the sweeter in the end.”

Her cheeks suffused with heat.

With his gaze licking over her, any argument she might have had flew right out of her head.

“Perhaps,” she said turning on her heel, more to get in the last word than in agreement.

Her dander rose as she left the room. He assured her he would give Inez and Heriberto his blessing, yet she’d failed to discover what she truly longed to know — how much he’d loved his wife. Did he still grieve for her? Would he always?

Or would there one day be a place in his heart for someone else?

Not that it mattered to her, of course.

It wasn’t any of her business.

She just wanted him to be happy.

Assuming a man that bull-headed ever could be.

The moment Christie entered her bedchamber to prepare for dinner, Inez pounced on her. “Did you speak with Señor Randall? What did he say?”

“He isn’t opposed to the match,” Christie said in a cautionary tone, afraid to raise false hopes. “When and if your parents speak with him, I feel certain he’ll lend his full support.”

“Then it is settled!” Inez clapped her hands, beaming a smile. “Oh,
gracias
Señorita Christie! I knew you would not let me down. Come, let us get you into the tub while the water is still hot.”

“I wouldn’t say it’s settled.” Christie turned around so that Inez could unhook her gown. Following an afternoon spent exploring the orchards and gardens, she was anxious to shed her sticky clothes. But it had been well worth it to discover those lemons trees. “First, you must convince your parents the match is sound.”

Inez’s fingers stilled. “But what else can I say? I have told them how much I love him.”

“Perhaps if you explained to them why you love him?”

“This is not easy to answer.” Inez began to fumble with the hooks once again. “I am not certain I can put such things into words.”

“Very well, let’s see.” If she had been in love with Robby, what argument might she have used on her father? Of course, if she had truly loved him, the consequences of her kidnapping would have been devastating instead of an answer to her prayers.

Christie padded to the big copper tub to sink down into the scented water, leaning her head back. “What do you love about Heriberto?”

“I love everything.” Inez lathered a sea sponge with a cake of lavender soap with vigor.

“But if you had to name three things, what would they be?”

“He is very strong and very handsome.”

“Yes, yes, yes, but what are his lasting qualities? Is he honorable, loyal? Would he protect you no matter what the odds — no matter what the peril?”

“Oh,
sí
.”

An image of Nat exchanging gunfire with the Everetts while she raced to freedom popped into Christie’s head. But that wasn’t love. Nat would have done the same for anyone. “How do you know?”

“Because he loves me.”

“And?”

“He is steady and loyal?”

“Very good.” Christie laughed. “But you’ll have to tell it with more conviction if you want to convince your parents — make them believe he’s the only man in the world for you.” If only she could find such a man. Perhaps someday, when the scandal faded.

“
Sí
, I will.” Inez proceeded to scrub Christie’s back with quick earnest strokes. “He is the only man for me. I could never love another.”

Later as Christie sat at the dressing table, allowing Inez to brush the tangles from her freshly washed hair, her mind turned to home. Eventually, she must write to her father and inform him of what happened. No doubt he’d be enraged. But the sooner she did it, the sooner he’d calm down and reconcile himself to the fact that her reputation was ruined, and his plans for her to marry Cavanaugh impossible.

No sense in delaying the inevitable.

She’d write to him tomorrow.

The ominous task weighed heavily on her as she descended the wide oak staircase for dinner. The matter lingered at the back of her mind all through dinner.

She kept imagining the disappointment on her father’s face, followed by his inevitable rage. The worst of it was, she felt no remorse. And why should she? It was over and done with. Fate had snatched the decision from her hands.

Well, there was nothing she could do about it, she finally conceded, taking a spoonful of soup.

Her mouth turned to fire.

Her throat constricted.

She began to choke and sputter.

She dropped the spoon with a clatter, reaching for her wine.

Nat rose from the table, rushing over to slap her on the back. “Are you alright?”

“Yes.” She wiped the tears from her eyes. “Except for the fire in my mouth.”

“Li Ling’s idea of a warning.” He returned to his seat. “Speaking of lovesick. Have you spoken to Inez?” The note of amusement in Nat’s voice set her teeth on edge.

First the Everetts — now his housekeeper! Must she run for her life wherever she went? She took a deep calming breath. “Yes, I did.” The entire situation was still a big mess, but she wasn’t about to admit that — not with him staring down the table at her. How was it that he always appeared so relaxed yet self-assured? Perhaps it was the perfect cut of his black frock coat with the snowy linen shirt opened at the throat, and no cravat. “I encouraged her to speak with her parents.”

“And what did you instruct her to say?” He sounded amused.

“I gave no specific instructions.” She raised an innocent brow. “I just pointed her in the right direction.”

“Yours, no doubt.”

“I cannot help but offer my advice when she pleads for it.”

He laughed outright at this. “Since when did anyone have to plead for your advice?”

Christie’s cheeks warmed as her hackles rose. How dare he condescend to judge her on such short acquaintance, when he flaunted convention at every turn? Bold devil! She kept her tone cool. “Are you saying I shouldn’t have helped?”

“As if you could resist.” He reached for the decanter of wine.

“I don’t believe I like your tone,” she said as mildly as she could.

“Admit it!” He replaced the wine decanter on the table. “You love playing the guardian angel. From the moment I met you, you’ve been involved in one predicament after another, most of which were not your own.”

She wriggled straighter in her chair. “It’s one’s duty to help people whenever you can.”

“Yes, but most of us don’t make it our life’s passion.”

“And what about you? You’ve spent three years chasing after the Everetts when you could have very well left it to the law.”

“That’s different.”

“How is it different?” She widened her eyes incredulously. “It sounds as though you follow your convictions just as I do.”

His gaze narrowed over the rim of his wine glass. He emptied it in one swig, then replaced the glass on the table. “Is that what you were doing when you came to Nevada, following your heart?”

“Yes.” She repositioned the white linen napkin in her lap. “I hoped my father would change his mind.”

“Perhaps he has.”

Christie gave a humorless laugh. “I doubt it. But thanks to the Everetts, it no longer matters.”

Nat leaned back in his chair. “Your father may decide to keep the kidnapping a secret.”

Christie gasped at the though. “Then I’ll be compelled to reveal it.”

He raised one dark brow. “You never struck me as the rebellious type.”

“How do you know?” She came to her feet. “What makes you think you know me?” She paced to the long lace-covered window to the left of the fireplace. “My duty to my father only extends so far. I won’t be married off for the sake of his business interests.”

“I stand corrected,” Nat said, but his tone denied it. “I’ve misjudged you.”

She turned from the window to find him leaning back in his chair smiling. “Thank you.” She returned to her chair, not caring whether he believed her or not. “I do want to please my father. God knows I don’t want to disappoint him. But this time, I can do neither.”

“I understand.”

She slashed him a doubtful look. Was he laughing at her? “You do?”

“Of course,” This time he sounded sincere. Perhaps he’d only been teasing her? “No one likes to be forced, especially into something as important as marriage.”

“You were lucky to be married to someone you loved so much.”

He cast her a strange look. “Our marriage wasn’t a love match. It was an arrangement. One I wish never to repeat.”

“Oh.” It was wrong this should please her so much, but it did.

That night, lying awake in bed, she attempted to put her feelings for Nat into perspective.

She’d never sought the approval of any man — attractive or not. It didn’t make sense that his opinion should matter. Besides, when she left this place, it was unlikely she’d ever see him again.

Besides, Nat wasn’t the kind of man you could get close to. He wasn’t the type to bare his soul — to pledge himself to another without restraint. He possessed none of the qualities she’d envisioned in a mate. Yet she’d formed a strange attachment to him — a steadily growing respect.

It made her wonder about the man her father wanted her to marry. Had she been too hasty — judging him without giving him a chance? Perhaps in defying her father she’d cheated herself out of marrying a truly remarkable man.

Now she would never know.

• • •

The crisp morning turned to a long hot afternoon. Sweat dripped down Nat’s brow. He wiped it away with the back of his hand. It had taken most of the day to herd the stray cattle from the pastures to the wooded canyons beyond.

Ten hours in the saddle, and all he could think of was a hot steak and a cold bath.

Watching the sun set on the edge of the horizon like a big white ball edged in orange fire only made him hotter.

After seeing Diablo settled in the stable for the night, he veered to the right of the house, then proceeded up the gently sloping meadow toward the woods. He’d already missed dinner, so he might as well head to the lake for a swim. Its spring-fed depths remained cool on the hottest day.

A quick dip, a shot of whiskey, and he’d sleep like a baby.