Native Silver (7 page)

Why hadn’t he told her? Did he believe it himself? She had to get back to him. David called to her, but she didn’t really hear him. She stumbled towards her car, parked alongside the house.

She heard Lisa call David’s name, but she didn’t look back to see what was happening. Instead, she swung into the Camaro and fumbled under the seat to find where she’d hidden the extra key, then she was off, roaring down the dirt road, heading home.

David watched her go, ignoring Lisa’s call from the house. For some reason, Shawnee Carrington had taken hold of his imagination in a way women seldom did. She was beautiful and she was absolutely a sensual tug at his libido—how could it be any other way after the sensational introduction they’d had at the stream? But he knew a lot of beautiful women. None had ever touched his heart in a way that could shake up his life.
 

And she wasn’t going to, either. He knew that. Still, something about her seemed to reach in and grab hold of his peace of mind in a way none of the others ever did. Every word, every look she gave him, hit him in the gut, in the core of his emotional response.
 

She got to him. And he wanted her. That was part of it. The aching need to have her was building inside him. He wanted her in a way he hadn’t wanted a woman since high school, when he was first learning and experimenting with sensuality and the male response. She was under his skin now. He wasn’t going to be able to ignore what she did to him.

And at the same time, he knew he was going to have to make a few moves that were going to hurt her. He didn’t see any way he could avoid it. Things had been set in motion years ago and there was no way he could change them.
 

Was she going to hate him and his family even more? Probably.
 

He turned and headed toward the house. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a boring summer after all.

CHAPTER FOUR

MEETING THE ANCESTORS

At first Shawnee was sure she never wanted to see
David Santiago again as long as she lived. She’d
been right in the first place—he was the enemy, and
she should have known better than to let him get to her the way he had.

Granpa Jim was asleep when she got home, and she felt a wild need for comfort of some sort, so she made her way out to the stable to see Miki.

“Hello, old boy,” she murmured. Grooming her
horse was one of her favorite activities. While she
worked she could let her mind fly free, and at the
same time, have the company of her closest friend.
“We’ve got our work cut out for us, Miki. Things look bad.”
 

She stroked his silky neck, feeling a wave of affection for the big animal. He was so beautiful and so responsive. He was what she’d been living for lately. What would she do without him?

“But we can
do it, you and I.” She leaned against his comforting
strength, trying to hold back tears, fighting back that helpless feeling of despair. “We can do it,” she whispered as her vision blurred and her voice choked, “because we have to.”

Granpa Jim woke a short time later and she spent
the rest of the afternoon—with very little success
—trying to get Granpa Jim to return from the
greener pastures of days gone by to face the reali
ties of the here-and-now.
 

All the while, one part of her mind seethed with anger at David. She hated to think of him here, bothering her grandfather while
there was no one around to protect him. What had he said to Granpa Jim? Had he tried to bully him?
She would probably never know.

And that was exactly why she finally decided to go
out with David after all.

First, she searched the house for evidence that there might be a deed somewhere. In the back bed
room, she found three boxes filled with letters
and
forms. She spent an hour going through them,
th
rowing away half of what she found.

There were pictures of her parents that brought a lump to her throat, and pictures of Lisa and herself
as children, playing in the sprinkler on a hot,
August day, riding ponies as though they were
stallions, smiling toothlessly from lips rimmed with
birthday-cake icing. There were reports and insurance papers, theatre tickets and old Disneyland
stubs. There were packets of seeds and old expired coupons for steak dinners at Parino’s. There were old passports and maps. But there was nothing to show that Granpa Jim had any claim to the land he had lived on for
forty years.

What David had told her had been a shock. In her wildest dreams she’d never imagined that the
land she’d lived on most of her life really belonged
to the Santiagos. It still seemed impossible. Wouldn’t someone have said something? Her parents, her grandfather? Maybe Lisa knew the truth, but she doubted it. No, she was pretty
sure this problem was going to rest on her own
shoulders.

If only she knew where else to look for a deed.
Maybe there was a safety deposit box somewhere. She tried questioning
Granpa Jim but he couldn’t remember.

“Don’t hold with those banks, anyway,” was all he would mumble when she questioned him.

Shawnee was very much afraid David might be
telling the truth. There certainly wasn’t any reason
to
think
otherwise. But that didn’t mean she was
giving up. Not a chance.

She closed her eyes at the thought, steeling herself for the fight ahead. Truth or not, it made no difference. No matter what she found, she wasn’t
going to let her grandfather be bullied off the land.
She wouldn’t allow the Santiagos to drive her grandfather from his home again.
 

But in order to fight them, she would need ammunition. Knowledge was power; didn’t they always tell you that?
And David was the man who held that power over
her.

So she would go to dinner with him. Maybe he would be able to give her information she could use. Maybe she would be able to talk him out of
taking the land. She smiled ruefully. Hardly likely,
but one never did know for sure.

But first she made a phone call to Reid Carrington in Destiny Bay. He was her cousin and an attorney who had helped her parents in the past. Luckily, he was in town and agreed to come out to Destiny Valley to see what he could do to untangle the land ownership problems she was having.
 

“I’ll be out tomorrow,” he promised. “Where shall I meet you?”

She hesitated. “How about the Kit Kat Koffee Shop on Main,” she suggested, thinking that would better than having him show up at their door and setting Granpa Jim off on one of his rampages.
 

“Great,” Reid said. “Eleven okay?”

“Wonderful.”

She fried her grandfather a few pieces of chicken,
mashed some potatoes and made him a green salad to go with it, then took a quick shower and scanned
her meager wardrobe for something to wear to meet David. She wanted to look special tonight. She told herself it
was to turn him into putty so that she could
mold him into whatever she chose and get more information from him, but deep down, she knew it
was for more than that.

The evening was still hot, so she finally chose a
cream-colored peasant dress with delicate
embroidery around the wide neckline and a circular skirt that flared around her legs as she walked. She
wove her thick hair into a long, loose plait down her
back and slipped her feet into rope-mesh sandals.
Then she left the house, determined to meet David
on the road. She couldn’t risk having her grandfather
see her going out with a Santiago.

She was almost to the highway before she saw his
Mercedes SL 450 coming towards her. He pulled up
and sat looking at her for a moment, his mood un
readable behind the dark glasses he wore to
drive.
 

“Going my way?” he asked at last, coming out
to open the door for her.

“Thinking about it,” she murmured in answer, letting him help her into the car. He was wearing
grey slacks and a blue sports coat over a crisp white
shirt, open at the neck. He looked fresh and confident, and she had a hard time remembering he
was her opponent. How much nicer it would be to
have him on her side!

“You won’t regret it.” He got back behind the
wheel and turned the car back the way he’d come. “I
promise you a dinner you won’t soon forget.”

There weren’t many restaurants in the sleepy
town of Destiny, and what places there were hardly seemed likely to produce the kind of repast he was talking about. She wondered if he were planning to drive down into the closest beach city, Destiny Bay, or even farther, all the way to Santa Barbara. Would that be good or
bad? It would certainly give them more time to talk.
 

On the other hand, it would leave her
stranded awfully far from home if she let her temper get the best of her and he retaliated in kind.

When he turned the silver car in through the gates to Rancho Verde, he caught her off-guard,
and she found herself clutching the edge of her seat.
 

“Where are you going?” she asked sharply. She’d
never come down the main drive before. The sides were lined with towering deodars which bordered a
series of white-fenced paddocks, each sporting at lea
st one sleek thoroughbred racehorse.

“I’m taking you to dinner, just as I promised.”

“But . . . not here?” Her voice sounded
strangled.
 

“Why not?”

No. He couldn’t do this. And yet—what would it feel like to walk through these rooms? Suddenly pure excitement was flowing through her.
 

He pulled the car up before the
massive solid-oak double doors of the entryway.
“Have you ever been here before?”

She stared at the huge ranch house. Built before
the turn of the last century, over a hundred years ago, it had the red-tiled roof and white-washed adobe walls, the high protective enclosure and black wrought-iron balconies, that fol
lowed the Spanish style of the times. How many
stories she’d heard about this place, how many
times she’d thought of walking through its flowered
courtyard.
 

It had been a dream, something as
remote as a trip to a star. And now, suddenly, here
she was. Her skin was tingling with anticipation.
 

“No,” she said softly, gazing at the large stone
planters, overflowing with yellow pansies and red moss roses, that sat at either side of the entry way.
“No, I’ve never been here before.”

“Come on, then.” He came around and helped
her out of the car, and she followed, all protests
forgotten. Her eyes were wide as she looked
around, taking in every detail, and she let him put a
hand to the small of her back and lead her.

He took her through most of the lower floor, into
the courtyard with its lovely water fountain,
through the high-ceilinged dining-hall and airy sit
ting-room.
 

She didn’t say a word during the tour,
but she knew it was affecting her on an emotional
level that she couldn’t express aloud. She was feeling a strange mixture of joy and distress, wishing her grandfather could be here, wishing she could do something to hold the experience for him.

At one point, when David sensed her turmoil, he
put an arm lightly around her shoulders, drawing her
closer, and she found herself snuggling into the
nook of his arm, as though she needed the warmth an
d support he offered. She didn’t look at him, but she took comfort from his touch. He held her with a mixture of pleasure and bemusement, as though he
wasn’t quite sure when she would wake up and
realize what she was doing, but he was going to enjoy it
while he had the chance.

“It’s gorgeous,” she breathed when he led her out
onto the terrace where a small table had been set
for their dinner. “Just the way I imagined it.”

“My mother had a decorator in to completely redo the place when I was about fifteen,” he told
her, helping her into a chair. “But I suppose it can’t be very different from the way it was when your
family lived here.”

Oh, it was very different. She was sure of it. The Santiagos had a sense of proud elegance that stood
in direct contrast to the rough and ready pioneer
spirit her family had worn in those days. But that
didn’t matter. The bare bones of the house were
still the same, and she could feel the past in every
room.

“It’s been forty years since my father bought this
ranch from your grandfather,” David said quietly as a maid brought out their wine. “How long did your
people have it?”

She glanced at him, then looked out over the
rolling lawn that spread back towards the stables. She knew this stuff like the back of her hand.
 

“
My great-great-grandfather, Andrew Barrett Carrington, bought Rancho Verde in 1882.” She recited it without thinking, a remnant of the litany Granpa Jim had repeated to her so many times,