Authors: Janet Dailey
Tags: #Romance, #Fiction, #General, #Contemporary, #Western Stories, #Suspense Fiction, #Domestic fiction, #Montana, #Ranch life, #Women Ranchers - Montana, #Calder family (Fictitious characters), #Women ranchers
Calder Promise (12 page)
Just then Sebastian made a particularly difficult shot, and Helen groaned. “He’s going to beat us.” Her low murmur was laced with defeat.
“No, he isn’t,” Boone stated, a determined set to his jaw. “We’ll win. One way or another.”
Helen glanced at him, slightly aghast. “You wouldn’t cheat, would you?”
Boone flicked a glance her way. “I thought you said you had your own business.”
“I do.” She gave him a startled look that said more loudly than words that she didn’t understand what one had to do with the other.
“Then you shouldn’t have to ask.” Boone picked up the chalk cube and rubbed it on the end of his cue stick as Laura bit back a smile. There wasn’t any doubt that Boone was the son of Max Rutledge by more than just blood.
A floorboard squeaked beneath the carpeted runner as Tara made her way along the second-floor hall. Her mind ran through a half dozen business events that might have prompted Max to feel he should alert her to them. Considering Max was the type who usually kept any such knowledge to himself, especially if it gave him an advantage over the competition—and Dy-Corp’s many fossil-fuel interests certainly put her in that category—none of the possibilities seemed logical.
Pausing outside the door to his room, she lightly rapped twice. “It’s Tara, Max.” The only response was a muffled sound of footsteps from inside. Seconds later the door swung open, and Max’s valet stepped back to admit her.
“Mr. Rutledge is expecting you.”
“Come in, Tara,” Max called and rolled into view. “Have a seat.” He waved a hand to the grouping of chairs in the room’s sitting area, then glanced pointedly at the burly Barnett. “That’ll be all for now.”
As the man withdrew to an adjoining room and closed the connecting door, Tara crossed to one of the chairs and gracefully sank into it. But Max didn’t immediately join her. Instead he wheeled his chair over to a centuries-old secretariat, sifted through some folders in his opened briefcase on its top, and removed one.
“What is this mysterious business you wanted to discuss with me?” Tara asked, all smiles and bright-eyed southern charm.
“There really isn’t anything mysterious about it.” With a soft whirr, the wheelchair glided over to her chair. Max handed her the folder from his lap. “See for yourself.”
“What’s this?” Tara searched his face, seeking some hint about its contents, as she flipped it open.
“I did some checking on our host before we came. It makes for some interesting reading.”
“That wasn’t very polite,” she said in mild rebuke.
“But it’s smart. Read it.”
Tara ran another glance over his closed expression, then made a quick scan of the contents and went back to the first sheet to make a more thorough study. When she finished, she closed the folder and handed it back to him, her own expression as bland as his.
“You’re right. It was interesting reading,” she confirmed.
“You need to talk to Laura. I’d do it myself, but it’s better if it comes from you. After all, she wouldn’t be the first woman to be taken in by someone with a title.”
“We don’t know whether Laura is even thinking along those lines,” Tara pointed out.
“You’ll never convince me that he invited her here this weekend just so she could see that portrait. And if you believe it, you’re not as smart as I think you are.”
Tara made no comment to that. “I’ll speak to her,” she said and stood up. “Like you, I would rather play it safe than be sorry.”
Chapter Six
B
oone’s arm was hooked around her waist, keeping her firmly against his side as they climbed the stairs to their rooms. Conscious of her hip rubbing against his thigh with each step, Laura stole a glance at his face, noting the faintly smug curve to his mouth.
oone’s arm was hooked around her waist, keeping her firmly against his side as they climbed the stairs to their rooms. Conscious of her hip rubbing against his thigh with each step, Laura stole a glance at his face, noting the faintly smug curve to his mouth.
“You certainly seem rather pleased with yourself,” she observed.
“Why shouldn’t I be?” He smiled down on her. “After all, I did win.”
“So you did,” Laura agreed easily. “Although having me for a partner meant that Sebastian was obliged to play with something of a handicap.” It was a mischievous perversity that prompted her to argue Sebastian’s side.
But Boone seemed to sense that and didn’t rise to the bait. “Did you expect me to play with one hand tied behind my back to make up for it?”
She released a breathy laugh and shook her head. “Not you. You’ll make use of every advantage you can.”
“Wouldn’t you?” he countered.
“Probably,” Laura admitted as they reached the top of the steps.
“Damn right you would,” Boone stated. “Like me, you play to win or you don’t play.”
“Is that right?” she challenged playfully as they continued along the hall toward her room.
“You know it is,” he replied. “But I don’t expect you to admit it.”
Inwardly Laura acknowledged that truth about herself. To her thinking, it didn’t make sense to undertake something unless it was with the intention of succeeding.
When they arrived at the door to her room, she turned toward him and leaned back against the jamb, tilting her face up to him. “I suppose as the victor you intend to claim the spoils.” There was an instant darkening of his eyes, desire heating them. When he made that initial move to claim the invitation from her lips, Laura added, “And I warn you, I am spoiled.”
In answer, his mouth came down to claim her lips in a driving kiss that was rough with need. Laura absorbed its bruising force, so stimulated by its pent-up hunger that her own blood suddenly ran sweet and fast. His arm circled her waist to arch her against his length, leaving her in no doubt as to the extent of his arousal.
Unexpectedly, he dragged his mouth from hers and bowed his head for an instant. There was a piercing blackness to his eyes when he finally met her curious gaze.
“Sometimes I think you’re trying to spoil me for anyone else.” The roughness of his voice made it a kind of accusation.
Those were heady words. Laura was careful not to show how welcome they were as she crossed her hands behind his neck and let her fingers idly toy with his close-cropped hair. “Could I do that?”
He looked at her for a long second. “I’m beginning to think you can.”
It was such a grudging admission she had to smile. “Being spoiled can have its own rewards.” Rising up on tiptoes, she pressed a quick, warm kiss on his lips and immediately drew back before he could make more of it, and reached behind her to turn the doorknob. “Good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”
She left him standing there, stunned by the suddenness of her escape, and slipped inside the room, quickly closing the door behind her and leaning against it, savoring the satisfaction of the moment. After a short pause, she heard the sound of his footsteps moving away. She hadn’t been sure he would leave, and waited a beat to make certain he wasn’t coming back, then pushed away from the door.
Laura hadn’t taken two steps into the room when some inner sense warned her she wasn’t alone. Muscles tensing in vague alarm, she turned and made a visual sweep of the room. The search halted. For a startled instant, she simply stared at Sebastian, stretched out on her bed, reclining against its pillows.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked, wavering between shock and amusement.
“You did mention earlier that you wondered whether you would be having a surprise visitor,” Sebastian reminded her and uncrossed his legs to swing them off the bed and stand up. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”
Amusement reigned as she shook her head and sighed.
“But how did you get in here? I just left you downstairs.”
His expression was one of mock consternation. “I must have neglected to mention on the tour that Crawford Hall, like other old manors, contains secret passageways. How remiss of me.”
“Secret passageways. Where?” Her curiosity aroused, she looked about the room.
Sebastian clucked his tongue in reproach. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be secret anymore, now would it?”
“Stop being so mysterious.” Her smile chided him even as her pulse fluttered at his sauntering approach. “Tell me.”
Pausing in front of her, he released an exaggerated sigh. “Very well, if you insist. You happen to be standing in one of the older sections of Crawford Hall. This room was in fact the master bedroom—”
Laura interrupted, “Which goes back to the days when husbands and wives didn’t sleep together.”
“You remembered,” he said with a nod of approval.
“My retention level is very high.” At the moment, it was their night in Rome she was remembering, especially his unique style of lovemaking. It had her heart beating a little faster.
“That’s good to know.” Something in his look suggested he was remembering, too. “But as I was saying, one of my long-ago ancestors apparently had a dislike for wasted steps. Hence he had the architect include a hidden staircase in his design, linking the master bedroom and the library.”
Laura made another quick scan of the room and guessed, “The bookshelves flanking the fireplace—one of them is the door.”
“The one on the right,” Sebastian confirmed.
“That hidden staircase wouldn’t have anything to do with your reason for selecting this room for me, would it?” She eyed him with the full expectation that his answer would be in the affirmative.
Sebastian chose to neither confirm nor deny that. “It does facilitate privacy for late-night visits. Don’t you agree?” He stood close but made no move to touch her. His failure to touch her only served to make her doubly aware of the scant inches that separated them.
“Do you make a habit of assigning your female guests to this room?” she challenged.
“Only the very attractive ones.” He trailed his fingertips along the shoulder seam of her dress, following its line to the curve of her neck. Her skin tingled under the lightness of the contact. It was as if every inch of her body became sensitized.
“Why does that not surprise me?” Laura murmured, aware that her voice had become breathy.
“Aren’t you going to ask how many women have occupied this room before you?” His fingertips lightly explored the pulsing vein in her neck, following it to the lobe of her ear.
She had a catlike urge to rub her cheek against his palm to encourage the fullness of his caress. “How many?” She all but purred the question.
“As it happens, you’re the first.”
“You don’t really expect me to believe that, do you?” She showed her skepticism.
“If you’ll recall, I did say I put only the very attractive ones in this room—and you are the first who qualified.”
“Flatterer,” she chided, her eyelids fluttering half-closed as his fingers made a slow track up to her cheekbone and down her cheek to the corner of her lips.
“It’s no flattery. You are incredibly beautiful,” Sebastian stated, then added in a musing tone. “Perhaps the portrait is to blame for it, but I have the distinct feeling that you have always been a part of my life. It’s difficult to believe we met only a few nights ago in Rome.”
“But it was a very memorable night.” Laura was conscious of her whole body straining toward him, wanting his touch. When his fingertips lightly brushed over the curve of her lower lip, need trembled through her. “Do you always tantalize a girl like this?” she said in protest.
“Considering you just came from another man’s arms, I thought you might need time to adjust to the idea of going into another’s,” he replied smoothly.
“Were you watching us through some secret peephole?” In truth, she was more amused than outraged at the possibility.
“No.” His mouth crooked. “It’s much more elementary than that. Standing this close, I can smell his cologne on your skin. It has a heavy citrusy scent that’s a bit overpowering.”
A smile grooved little dimples in her cheeks. “Your middle name must be Sherlock. Sebastian Sherlock Dunshill.”
“It definitely has a ring to it.”
“Indeed it does,” Laura agreed and tipped her head in an age-old invitation. “In case you’re wondering, I have adjusted to the idea. Will you kiss me now?”
“With pleasure.” But it was nothing he rushed as his mouth made a slow descent to her lips and moved over them in a sensual delving of their softness.
It was a lazy heat that started low and gradually engulfed her. His arms encircled her, his hands molding her to his shape, demonstrating how perfectly a man and woman could fit together. When his hand cupped the underside of her breast, desire swelled within her.
All the while there was the magic of his drugging kisses—on her lips, her neck, her cheek, and back to her lips again. Laura had a rational moment to marvel that lovemaking could be so beautiful. Beautiful and rapturous, without haste or demand, just an endless giving of pleasure. She only knew she never wanted it to end.
The light
tap-tap-tap
at her door barely registered. Then Tara’s muffled voice intruded. “Laura. It’s Tara. May I come in?”
tap-tap-tap
at her door barely registered. Then Tara’s muffled voice intruded. “Laura. It’s Tara. May I come in?”
The request was immediately followed by a turning of the doorknob. Sebastian’s hands gripped her shoulders and set her away from him as the door swung open and Tara walked in.
For a split second Tara froze at the sight of him. “Sebastian. I didn’t know you were here.” Her voice was unexpectedly cool with challenge. It matched the tilt of her chin and the veiled censure in her gaze.
“I came by to see if Laura wanted to go for a morning canter tomorrow,” he explained with a smoothness that Laura wanted to applaud.
There was no doubt in her mind that she looked as if she had just been thoroughly kissed, which she had. And she wasn’t the least bit embarrassed about it.
“Naturally I told him he could count on me,” Laura said. “Would you like to ride along, Tara?”
“I’ll see how I feel in the morning,” she replied, effectively dismissing the topic as she once again fixed her dark gaze on Sebastian. “I need to speak to Laura. Would you mind?”
“Not at all,” he assured her and glanced at Laura. “Good night”
“Good night. I’ll see you in the morning,” she said with regret.
“In your riding clothes,” Sebastian added, throwing her a smile before nodding to Tara and moving past her into the hall.
With deliberation, Tara closed the door behind him, paused, then turned to face Laura, her expression one of thoughtful study. Laura sensed at once that something was wrong. It put her on guard. Disguising her unrest with an air of normalcy, she walked over to Tara and turned, presenting her back. “Unzip me, will you?”
After a slight hesitation, Tara lowered the zipper, and Laura moved away, stepping out of the dress as she went. Clad only in her slip and underclothes, she crossed to the bed and slipped off her shoes.
“You said you needed to talk to me,” she prompted when Tara remained silent. “Did my mother call?”
“No. As far as I know, everything is fine there. I need to speak to you about something else.” Tara moved into the room and walked directly toward the cozy sitting area. “Let’s sit down over here.”
“This sounds serious,” Laura remarked in a deliberately light tone, noting that Tara seemed uncertain about how to bring up the subject she wanted to discuss.
“I don’t know whether ‘serious’ is the particular word I would use. But I do think it could be important.” Tara sat down in one of the plumply cushioned armchairs and waited for Laura to join her.
Laura curled up in a twin to it. “Important how?”
“That remains to be seen,” Tara replied, hedging again. “You see, some information has come to my attention.”
Suddenly several seemingly unrelated items solidified into one in Laura’s mind. “If I had to guess, I’d say that Max is the source of your information.”
Surprise flickered ever so briefly in Tara’s expression at the astuteness of Laura’s statement. It was quickly followed by a look of admiration and approval.
“As a matter of fact, he is,” Tara admitted. “Obviously I haven’t had an opportunity to verify anything he told me. At the same time, I have no reason to believe it isn’t true.”
Something else clicked into place. “It’s about Sebastian, isn’t it? I remember that Max didn’t look at all surprised when Sebastian told us he was the current earl of Crawford.”
“Really? I didn’t notice.” Nor was it of much interest to Tara at the moment. “It seems that Sebastian inherited the title after his older brother was killed in a plane crash this past winter. At the time, there was already a sizable mortgage on the property, a debt incurred by his brother in order to raise sufficient money to pay the taxes that came due when he inherited the title from their father. Sebastian is now facing a similar tax obligation—and few ways to satisfy it. Unless he can lay his hands on a very large sum of money in a very short period of time, it is likely he will have to sell all, or a major portion, of the estate to satisfy it.”
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