The Pleasure King's Bride (13 page)

Christabel
drew in a deep breath as the minibus from the King’s Eden wilderness resort came to a halt. Jared’s arm was around her waist and he gave her a quick hug, reminding her she was not alone. They were lined up along the veranda at the front entrance to the homestead, he and Nathan standing together, she and Miranda on either side of them, waiting to greet the visitors.

It was forty minutes since they’d seen Tommy’s plane come in—forty very long minutes, knowing
they
were here. It was almost a relief to see the Kruger triumvirate alighting from the minibus, and something of an anticlimax that they weren’t wearing suits. Their open-necked shirts and light cotton trousers made them look less intimidating but Christabel knew that was an illusion, and the black leather briefcases they carried gave the lie to any casual air they might adopt.

Rafael Santiso and Elizabeth King led the little procession through the front gate, Vogel and Wissmann following, Tommy behind them, shutting the gate with the air of a shepherd who had successfully herded his flock to the designated pen.

But he’d brought the wolf into the fold, Christabel thought, and with each step Rafael Santiso took towards her, she felt her nerves tightening and her hope for an agreeable outcome dwindling.

His black-eyed gaze skimmed the four of them waiting on the veranda, pausing fractionally on Christabel before turning back to Elizabeth who was talking to him. A smile lurked on his mouth as he projected interest in what she said. A smile...was the King family a joke to him? Would he learn differently?

Her heart started fluttering as he stepped up onto the veranda. Elizabeth introduced him to Nathan and Miranda first. The Argentinian was not as tall or as big as Nathan—more a match to Jared in build—but he exhibited no sign of being the least bit intimidated by Elizabeth’s oldest son, and Miranda was definitely greeted with a flash of male admiration, as though this was a social occasion.

Jared he measured with sharper eyes, and his nod as he moved on to Christabel seemed to express a satisfaction that put her more on edge. How could he be pleased about the aggression she could feel pumping through Jared? Stupid thought, Christabel railed at herself. Rafael Santiso thrived on fights. The tougher the opponent, the more pleasure in the win.

“Christabel...I’m glad to see you looking well.”

His cultured, urbane voice sent a shiver down her spine. She couldn’t bring herself to make a reply, glaring her contempt for his supposed caring about her well-being. She felt like spitting at him.

One devilish eyebrow arched inquiringly. “Alicia is not here with you?’’

“No, she’s not,” Christabel snapped defiantly, and the urge to puncture this charade of normal civility bolted out of her control. “She’s out of your reach, Rafael.”

Her fierce claim evoked only an ironic little smile. “I see it is well past time to address the matter of trust.”

“Well past time,” Jared asserted, the subtle challenge in his voice drawing Santiso’s attention back to him.

The brief interchange was broken by the introduction of Hans Vogel and Pieter Wissmann. Then Nathan was ushering them all inside.

Jared held her back, turning her into his embrace, his eyes boring into hers with urgent intensity. “I know you feel cornered. I also know you have the heart of a tiger. Together we can fight our way through anything,” he declared with conviction.

The heart of a tiger?
Was that what was pounding inside her? Through the whirl of apprehension in her mind came the thought—if ever there was a time to claw her way to freedom, this was it!

“I will fight, Jared,” she promised him, and saw the leap of satisfaction in his eyes.

The big, formal dining room had virtually been turned into a boardroom for this critical meeting. When she and Jared entered, Rafael Santiso, flanked by Hans Vogel and Pieter Wissmann, occupied the far side of the huge mahogany table, the contents of their briefcases formidably stacked in front of them.

Nathan sat at the head of the table with Miranda on his left. Elizabeth sat at the foot of it with Tommy on her right. Two vacant chairs between Tommy and Miranda stood waiting for Christabel and Jared, directly across the table from Rafael Santiso.

Jared seated her between Tommy and himself. Miranda had set out jugs of iced water, and Christabel gratefully noted that the glasses around the table had been filled. Her throat was very dry. She didn’t want to look at Rafael Santiso but pride made her face him, and as Jared settled beside her and took her hand, interlacing his fingers with hers, a strong surge of rebellion poured through her
tiger
heart. She would not let the Kruger trustee take over her life. She belonged with Jared.

“What business brings you to us, Rafael?” Jared opened up, letting it be known that Christabel was not to be singled out as a separate entity.

“Many serious considerations,” he answered. “First, may I say how pleased I am to have the opportunity of meeting the King family en masse like this.” He swept a look of pleasure around the table, stopping at Tommy. “I presume your fiancée, Samantha Connelly, has Alicia in her safekeeping.”

“Yes, she does. Sam will keep her happy,” Tommy rolled back at him, not the least bit ruffled by the sharp intelligence behind the assumption.

“Alicia is unaware of her inheritance and Christabel wants it kept that way,” Jared stated, purposefully drawing Rafael’s attention back to him and throwing out a probing challenge.

“Impossible in the long term,” Rafael countered.

“We aim to keep her free of it for as many years as we can,” Jared pressed.

Christabel felt the formidable power of the mind that had manipulated the trusteeship being brought to bear on the issue raised. Whatever he said would sound reasonable. In all her dealings with him he had never sounded
unreasonable,
which had made him so impossible to fight. He spun a web that covered everything. Her skin crawled as she anticipated the first set of strands, intended to wind around her in an inescapable net.

“An interesting proposition,” he said
reasonably,
even with a hint of sympathy for the task. “Part of why I’m here is to assure myself of
your
capability of delivering what is needed...to ensure a relatively safe and happy life for both Christabel and Alicia.”

It was the last thing any of them expected to hear and the arrogance of the claim was breathtaking. A sense of disbelief hung in the stunned silence around the table.

Christabel’s mind spun at the boldness of such a strategy—evading any accountability on his part by putting the King family on the line. She leaned forward, a welling outrage demanding to be voiced, but Jared spoke first, squeezing her hand as he did so.

“That is not your business, Rafael,” he stated curtly. “It’s mine and Christabel’s and Alicia’s. You’re not their guardian.”

“I promised the child’s grandfather I would keep her safe,” came the equable reply.

“Thereby ensuring the Kruger inheritance is kept safely in your hands,” Jared fired at him point-blank.

It stung, jerking Rafael’s chin into a tilt of pride. “It
is
safe in my hands. Safer than in anyone else’s.”

“Fine.” Jared belligerently tapped the table as he went on. “But you will not hold Christabel and Alicia hostages to your personal or financial interests.” His hands cut a decisive scissorlike movement. “They’re free of you now and they’ll stay free of you.”

Rafael leaned forward, his eyes glittering scorn. “But are they free of others, Jared? Do you imagine that
I
am the only one who has a personal and financial interest in the Kruger fortune? Alicia is a hostage to anyone who wants a bite of it.”

Jared leaned forward, boring in. “You’re the one Christabel fears most. You’re the one she fled from.”

Rafael flung a hand out in brusque dismissal. “A misconception.”

“Then clear it up, Rafael. Now!”

Jared sat back, ostensibly prepared to listen, but he left the air between him and Rafael Santiso electric with challenge. Adrenalin was pumping through Christabel. She seethed over the word
misconception,
all primed to pounce on any clarification she knew was false.

Rafael frowned momentarily as though gathering his thoughts, then with an open-handed gesture that suggested he had nothing to hide, he said, “Let me explain to all of you that when Bernhard Kruger died, the arrangements made in his will were not to the liking of two powerful factions within the company. It was...a dangerous time.”

His gaze swung directly to Christabel. “The precautions I put in place to protect you and Alicia were necessary. I know you felt imprisoned and you saw me as your gaoler.” He shook his head ruefully. “There was nothing I could do to alter your view. In effect, it was true. At the time, I believed it was the only way of discharging my duty as Bernhard’s appointed trustee.”

If it was an appeal for
her
understanding, it fell on stony ground. Christabel stared back at him, unmoved. She was sure he had Laurens’s blood on his hands, and it would only be a matter of time before he’d be planning Alicia’s demise, as well.

He held her gaze, determined on getting through to her. Seeing her resistance he pressed, weighting his words with very deliberate purpose. “I was more aware than you were of how quickly, how ruthlessly, a life can be snuffed out when that life can influence what happens to a fortune.”

Was he warning her? Threatening her?

He paused, looking for fear in her eyes? Christabel could feel the pulse beat in her temples but she would not bend to any pressure from him. Jared would stop it somehow. Jared and his brothers.

“Remember Laurens?” Rafael continued in a softer tone.

A taunting reminder that her husband was dead? That Jared, too, could be dead if she didn’t come to heel?

“It was not an accident that killed your husband, Christabel.”

The shock of that open admission jolted her into speech. “I never believed it was,” she flared at him, then couldn’t stop the churn of truths that had driven her to take the course she had. “To me the only question was...who was behind his removal from the Kruger power pyramid? And the answer...” She stood up, needing to fight, to force him into more admissions, “...the answer, Rafael...was written in the outcome.”

Her fists pressed onto the surface of the table as she leaned over it, pouring out the line of logic that couldn’t be refuted by the man who’d profited most by Laurens’s death.

“His death served
your
purpose so very neatly, putting you at the head of the South American network in
his
place, which brought you directly into Bernhard’s inner circle. It gave you the chance to win his confidence and you do that so well, Rafael... winning people’s confidence. You got it all, didn’t you? And before Alicia is eighteen, no doubt you’ll find a way to eliminate her, as well.”

The blistering indictment had no visible effect on him. He sat quite still.

There was a breathless silence all around the table. A pin dropping would have been a shattering sound. Christabel realised she was trembling and abruptly sat down, breathing hard as though she’d run a long race. Jared took her hand, pressing warmth and reassurance.

Hans Vogel coughed and leaned forward, looking as though he was about to protest. He was a heavy-set man, bald and bespectacled, with a bullish authority that didn’t suffer fools gladly. Christabel glared at him, refusing to be reduced to a mere cipher he could roll over.

Rafael Santiso simply raised his hand and the lawyer settled back again. “So
I
was the bete noir all along,” he softly mused, then looked inquiringly around the table. “And this you all know— Christabel’s belief that I had her husband murdered?’’

Nathan, Miranda, Jared and Tommy all remained silent, watching him, giving him nothing to hit off.

Elizabeth spoke, shock evident in her tone. “You didn’t inform me, Jared.”

“I didn’t know of it until last night,” he answered quietly. “And it was irrelevant to the action being taken this morning. I wanted you to bring them here. It’s the best place to deal with the situation. We were all agreed on that and since you now know the score...” He swung his gaze to the man who’d charmed his mother “...let him answer the charge.”

To Christabel’s ear, there was a relentless beat in Jared’s voice that carried the message it was Rafael and his men who were cornered, not her and Alicia. She squeezed his hand, her courage lifting with having him so staunchly on her side.

Rafael Santiso shook his head, as though in disbelief at finding himself in this position. His running glance from Nathan to Tommy left him in no doubt that the King brothers were sitting in judgment on him. Christabel wondered if he was remembering the country he’d flown over to get here, whether the isolation of it was hitting him now.

Then his gaze targeted her, snapping her mind back to red alert. He thought she was the weak one to be worked upon, twisted around. Not today, she silently vowed.

“You hid your suspicion well,” he remarked, displaying no hint of acrimony over her accusations. “I would have corrected it, or asked Bernhard to correct it, had I realised you believed me to be behind Laurens’s death.”

“As you well know, Bernhard is
beyond
speaking for you,” Christabel retorted, showing her scepticism.