Coveting Love (Jessica Crawford) (27 page)

“
Just a minute, Jessica,” he called after her. Where are you headed now?”

“
To find a hotel, if it’s any of your business,” she called over her shoulder, never stopping to wait for him. She heard him laughing again and halted, turning to look back at him.

“
What the hell are you laughing at now? I suppose you are going to tell me I can’t get a hotel room. Did you not say this was the end of the tourist season? Well, you were right about the airline tickets. However, since everyone is leaving, that means the hotels are empty, right?”

He laughed again and came to stand before her. “I did say it was the end of the tourist season. However, do you see all those people coming off these planes?” She reluctantly turned to look and gasped. He chuckled. “I happen to know there are ten different conventions taking place this week alone. Well, don’t you think they all have reservations? Oh, you probably could find a hotel that has a vacancy.” He glanced at John. “Maybe even two, but you would drive all over the city before you did. Oh, and I’m sure it would be the cream-of-the-crop. So please, don’t be so proud. Let me be your escort. I promise I’ll behave.” He held out his arm, waiting for her to slip hers through it.

Finally, John exploded. “Come on, Jess. What’s wrong with you? I have never seen you act like this,” he said, exasperated. “Mr. Stewart has graciously offered us his hospitality. I’m tired, and I know you are, too. I certainly don’t feel like roaming the city in search of a place to sleep. Whatever pretenses got us here, we are here now. Let’s just make the most of it.”

She looked sympathetically at him and winced. “Okay, John, but for you, not for him,” she spat toward Phillip as she sidestepped his extended arm. He shrugged his shoulders and withdrew it.

“
Very well, then,” he said. “Thank you, John. I’m happy to see that one of you is thinking sensibly. Shall we go then?”

He led the way to the car, and despite her hostility, Jessica was pleased to see that a limousine awaited them.

“
Where are we headed?” she asked after they were on the highway.

“
To my home, of course.” He snickered at her look of puzzlement.

“
Oh, didn’t you know? I have a family home here. In fact, I grew up here. My mother was Australian.”

Dawning spread across her face. “So that’s why Brandon couldn’t find much of a past for you. You were born in another country.” She leered at him as he laughed boisterously. John stared at the two of them in confusion. Suddenly, he didn’t like the burning in the pit of his stomach. He was starting to regret his assertive tantrum.

“
Yes, that’s right. Oh, I almost forgot. I hear congratulations are in order. It certainly didn’t take the two of you long to jump on the matrimonial train.”

She smiled sarcastically, then realized a way to jab him. “Actually, no, it didn’t, and in a way, I have you to thank for bringing Brandon and me together. You see, Brandon proposed to me while we were working on your last project. So, while you didn’t actually introduce us, it was the work on your project that allowed us to spend so much time together, getting to know each other on a more intimate basis.”

Now it was her turn to laugh at the flash of anger that crossed his face—a look that didn’t go unnoticed by John.

**********

CHAPTER 11

She hated admitting that she liked Phillip Stewart’s home, but she did. “You have a lovely home, Mr. Stewart.”

“
Please call me Phillip. Mr. Stewart sounds so formal.”

“
I would rather not if you don’t mind. I prefer to stay on a formal basis with you.”

He shrugged his shoulders. “Suit yourself then, and thank you for the compliment.”

She compared the home to Brandon’s and then scolded herself for doing so. There was no comparison between the two men, so why should she compare their homes.

“
Did you decorate it yourself?” she asked, curious about the Victorian furnishings that didn’t quite seem to fit him.

He chuckled. “No, actually I didn’t. My wife did.”

Jessica spun around, stunned. “I didn’t realize you had a wife.”

He sneered sideways at her. “Why do you find it so hard to believe that I have a wife? Most businessmen do have wives, you know. In fact, it’s frowned upon if you don’t.”

“
It’s just that most married men don’t chase…” She broke off, realizing it would be rude to insult him in his own home. “Well, never mind. Would you mind showing us to our rooms? We’re tired after that long trip.”

“
Oh, yes, of course. I’m sorry. I don’t know where my manners went. Let me show you the way, and then I’ll have your things sent up. Is that suitable?”

She nodded her approval and followed behind him as he led the way up a wide staircase.

“
I’m curious. Has this house been in your family long?”

“
The property yes, but the bulk of the actual home I had built about ten years ago. I recently expanded to add an additional wing to the third floor. I’ve kept some of the original structure, but most of it has been torn down and rebuilt.”

“
Why would you want to do that? Aren’t you interested in preserving your heritage?”

He looked hard at her. “Not in the least. You’ve probably guessed that I’m not much of a family man. And I’m certainly not proud of my father’s past. Years ago, when the prison was still going out on the Island of Tasmania, my great-grandfather was transported there. The ship wrecked and he managed to escape. He made his way into Western Australia, trying to avoid the authorities that were searching for him. It was there he met his wife.

“
She was vacationing there with her family, and she happened upon my great-grandfather. He was cold, shivering, half-starved, and one hell of a handsome devil. She felt sorry for him and sneaked him into the attic of their vacation home. He stayed there the entire summer. She fed him and fell deeply in love with him. She ended up getting pregnant, thus forcing her father to accept my great-grandfather into the family. Her father had high political connections, so he was able to get a pardon for my great-grandfather.

“
Eventually, he ended up manipulating everyone. The old man died suddenly, leaving his fortune unprotected. My great-grandfather started treating his wife so badly that she just withered up and died. The entire estate went into my great-grandfather’s control. After he died, my grandfather took it over, and then my father after him. He did a dreadful job of managing it, nearly losing everything due to his habitual gambling problem.

“
My father begged my mother to go to the United States with him. She eventually agreed. The original home that stood here rotted away from neglect. I came along and rebuilt what I could, and tore down what I couldn’t save.”

“
What a pity. Imagine having so much money and throwing it all away.”

“
Yes, well, that’s all in the past. I’ve managed to recover fairly well financially, and I don’t intend to let the family’s fortune get into the wrong hands ever again. Here we are, John,” he said, coming to stop in front of a door. “This is where you’ll be staying.”

John opened the door and peered inside, smiling in pleasure.

“
Thank you, Mr. Stewart. This is great.” He walked into the room and closed the door behind him.

They continued up a third flight of stairs and down a long corridor.

“
Excuse me, but isn’t this an awfully long way from the rest of the house. I was hoping I would be placed close to John’s room.”

He turned to gaze deeply into her eyes, boring into her depths. It made her shudder.

“
Nonsense. All of those rooms are handsomely decorated. This floor is specifically for female visitors. It has all the comforts you could possibly imagine.”

He opened a door and Jessica stepped inside. The room, attractively decorated with just the right mixture of male/female amenities, clearly was meant for entertaining.

A cabinet was set to one side of the room. Phillip crossed to it and pulled out two glasses and a bottle of chilled wine.

“
Would you care for a drink before we go on to your room?” he asked, presumptuously handing the glass to her.

She wanted to refuse it but decided the soothing drink would be just what she needed to help calm her nerves. She accepted the glass and began to wander around the room, caressing the delicate carvings that were laid out on the tables. The walls were lined with paintings. She had seen similar ones downstairs.

“
Were your ancestors collectors?” she asked, pointing to one in particular.

He came to stand beside her. “No, I’m the collector.”

She looked at him in surprise but said nothing.

“
That one is by Sidney Nolan. He was born in Melbourne in 1917. There’s an art gallery there. It’s not far from here. I’ll take you there if you like.”

“
Yes, thank you. I would love to visit it. I’m a bit of a collector myself.”

“
Yes, I know.”

They stared at each other in awkward silence. After a moment she said, “If you don’t’ mind, I’m rather tired, and I’d like to rest awhile before dinner.”

“
Yes, of course. I’m sorry for keeping you so long.”

He took her glass from her hand and escorted her to her room. She was surprised at the simplicity of it, but pleased nonetheless. The room had been furnished in the same Victorian era as the house itself. A large bed draped in sheer fabrics stood in the middle of the room. She roamed her eyes lovingly over the richly stained wood that was so rare these days. Her fingers traced the intricate pattern on the footboard.

“
It’s beautiful.”

“
It’s handcrafted,” he said. He watched her with longing, barely able to control his urge to grab her and throw her on the bed.

On the bed was a heavy quilt, aged by the years, hand sewn and beginning to unravel at the seams. In the corner of the room was a writing desk with an old-fashioned ink well. The only other furnishing was a chest standing against the far wall. The sparseness of the room gave it a large effect.

“
You should have this quilt restored,” she said. “It’s a beautiful piece of handicraft.”

“
This was my grandmother’s room. She made the quilt,” he informed her with choked emotion. “It was part of the original home. I’ve pretty much left it as it was. Although the wallpaper has been replaced and the doorways repainted.” He pointed to a door near the bed. “I added a bathroom when I remodeled, but the fixtures look authentic era, as if they’ve always been there. I got them in an antique store. I hope you will be comfortable here.”

She stared at him in wonder. How such a ruthless man could be so revering of the past was beyond her comprehension.

“
I sense a great love for your grandmother.”

“
Yes,” he said, shaking off the melancholy memories. “She didn’t belong in this family. She was forced to marry my grandfather, by her own father. He was attracted by the family’s wealth, and as my grandfather had an obsessive passion for her, and her father had a substantial amount of debt, he sought the grand opportunity to rid himself of the burden of raising his only child, and make some money in the process. My grandmother was sold to the family as a bride-in-training. She hated her father for it and never spoke to him again.

“
When I was a small child, I would lay sprawled out on that bed there, while she sat at her writing desk and told me stories about him. It didn’t take long before I also learned to hate him. Not just for what he did to her, but for the kind of man he was.”

“
What I don’t understand is how you can be so ruthless, after hating a man so much for the very crime you commit.”

A flash of anger crossed his face, and then disappeared as quickly as it had come.

“
I’m sorry you see me that way.”

She expected him to say more, but he didn’t. As the door closed behind him, she heaved a sigh and went about the task of unpacking.

Later that evening, just before dinner, Jessica sat at the writing desk, imagining what it must have been like to be Phillip’s grandmother. She imagined the hate she must have felt to unburden herself onto a child.

She looked at the bed. In her mind’s eye, she saw Phillip sprawled out on it. She imagined the wide-eyed wonder of a child showing eagerly on his face, hungering for the next adventurous story. She pitied the old woman, depraved by years of neglect and use. She ached for the woman so desperate for understanding that she unburdened herself to the innocent ears of a young boy.

Curiosity overcame her. She glanced around, as if someone might actually be spying on her, and began to open drawers. At first, she found nothing, and was disappointed. Then, just as she was about to give up searching, almost relieved that she didn’t find anything for fear the guilt would eat her alive, she found something. Tucked into the far back corner of one of the desk drawers, was a small book, bound in leather, aged, like the quilt. She opened the front cover and read: