Shades of Twilight (45 page)

“That's not quite true. I didn't come back because of the bargain. I came back because I needed to tie up old loose
ends. I needed to make my peace with Lucinda; she was a big part of my life, and I owe her a lot. I didn't want her to die before we cleared the air between us. Davencourt is special, but I've done all right in Arizona,” he said in calm understatement. “I don't need Davencourt, and Lucinda thought you didn't want it—”

“I don't,” she said firmly. “I told you, I don't want to spend my life in business meetings and studying stock reports.”

He gave her a lazy smile. “Pity, when you're so good at it. I guess you'll have to marry me, and I'll do it for you. Unlike you, I get my kicks making money. If you marry me, you can very happily spend your time raising kids and training horses, which is what you would have been doing even if Lucinda had left Davencourt to me. The only difference now is that it will all belong to you, lock, stock, and barrel, and you'll be the boss.”

Her head was whirling. She wasn't quite certain that she'd heard what she thought she'd heard. Davencourt was going to be hers, and he was staying anyway? Davencourt was going to be hers …

“I can hear those wheels turning,” he murmured. He tilted her head up so that she was looking at him. “I came back for one final reason, the most important one. I came back because of you.”

She swallowed. “Me?”

“You.” Very gently he stroked one finger down her spine to the cleft of her buttocks, then retraced the caress up her back. She shivered delicately, melting against him. He knew what he was doing with that small, delicate touch. His purpose wasn't to arouse her but to soothe her, reassure her, reestablish the trust with which she gave her body over to him during lovemaking. The very fact that he
wasn't
making love to her now was proof of how intent he was on accomplishing his aim.

“Let me see if I can make this any clearer,” he mused softly, brushing his lips against her forehead. “I loved you when you were a snot-nosed kid, into so much mischief it's
a wonder my hair didn't turn prematurely gray. I loved you when you were a teenager with long, skinny legs and eyes that broke my heart every time I looked at you. I love you now that you're a woman who makes my brain go soft, my legs go weak, and my dick get hard. When you walk into a room, my heart damn near jumps out of my chest. When you smile, I feel as if I've won a Nobel Prize. And your eyes still break my heart.”

The soft litany washed over like the sweetest of songs, soaking into her flesh, her soul, her very being. She wanted so much to believe him, and that was why she was afraid to, afraid she would let her own desires convince her.

When she didn't speak, he began those gentling caresses again. “Jessie really did a number on you, didn't she? She made you feel so unloved and unwanted that you still haven't gotten over it. Haven't you figured out yet that
Jessie lied?
Her whole life was a lie. Don't you know that Lucinda dotes on you? With Jessie dead, she was finally able to get to know you without Jessie's poison ruining everything, and she adores you.” He picked up her hand and carried it to his lips, where he kissed each fingertip, then began nibbling on the sensitive pads. “Jessie's been dead ten years. How long are you going to continue letting her ruin things for you?”

Roanna tilted her head back, searching his expression with solemn, wondering eyes. With a sense of amazement, she realized she had never seen him look more determined, or more intent. That hard face looking back at her was the face of a man who had made up his mind and was damn sure going to get what he wanted. He meant it. He didn't want to marry her because she would have Davencourt, because
he
could have had it without any strings. Lucinda would have honored her bargain. He didn't want to marry her because she might be pregnant—

As if he were reading her mind, and perhaps he was, he said, “I love you. I can't tell you how much, because the words don't exist. I've tried to count the ways, but I'm no
Browning. It doesn't matter if you're pregnant or not, I want to marry you
because I love you
. Period.”

“All right,” she whispered, and trembled at the enormity of the step she was taking, and from the joy that was blooming inside her.

Her breath whooshed out of her as he crushed her to his chest. “You know how to make a man sweat,” he said fiercely. “I was getting desperate. What do you think about getting married next week?”

“Next week?” She all but shouted the words, at least as much as she was able to, crushed against his chest the way she was.

“You didn't think I was going to give you time to change your mind, did you?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “If you have your heart set on a big church wedding, I suppose I can wait if it doesn't take too long to arrange. Luanda … Well, I think we should be married within a month, at the most.”

Tears sprang to her eyes. “That soon? I hoped she … I hoped she would last through the winter, maybe see another spring.”

“I don't think so. The doctor told her that her heart is failing, too.” He rubbed his face against her hair, seeking comfort. “She's a tough old bird,” he said roughly. “But she's ready to go. You can see it in her eyes.”

They held each other quietly for a moment, already grieving for the woman around whom the entire family revolved. But Webb wasn't a man to be deterred for long from his set course, and he leaned back from her, giving her an inquiring look. “About that wedding—”

“I don't want a big church wedding,” she said forcefully, shuddering at the idea. “You did that with Jessie, and I don't want to repeat it. I was miserable that day.”

“Then what kind of wedding do you want? We could have it here, in the garden, or at the country club. Do you want just family present, or invite our friends, too? I know
you
have some, and maybe I can scare up a couple.”

She pinched him for that remark. “You know darn well you have friends, if you can bring yourself to forgive them and
let
them be friends again. I want to get married in the garden. I want our friends to be here. And I want Lucinda to walk with me down the aisle, if she's able. A big wedding would be too much for her, too.”

One corner of his lip quirked at all of those decisive “I wants.” He suspected that before long, even though she professed not to be interested in Davencourt's business concerns, she would be poking her nose into it, butting heads with him over some of his decisions. He couldn't wait. The thought of Roanna arguing with him made him weak with delight. Roanna had always been stubborn, and she still was, even though her methods had changed. “We'll work out the details,” he said. “We'll get married next week if we can, two weeks max, all right?”

She nodded, smiling a little mistily.

Number seven, he thought triumphantly. And this one had been open, natural, as if she were no longer wary about showing joy.

Twisting, he reached for the plastic bag on the bedside table and withdrew the contents. He opened the box, read the instructions, then gave her the small plastic wand with a wide slot on the side. “Now,” he said, with a determined glint in his green eyes, “go pee-pee on the stick.”

Ten minutes later he knocked on the bathroom door. “What are you doing?” he asked impatiently. “Are you all right?”

“Yes,” she said in a muffled voice.

He opened the door. She was standing nude in front of the sink, her face blank with shock. The plastic stick lay on the rim of the bowl.

Webb looked at the stick. The slot had been white; now it was blue. It was a simple test: if the color of the slot changed, the test was positive. He eased his arms around her, pulling her into the comforting warmth of his body. She was pregnant. She was going to have his baby. “You really didn't think you were, did you?” he asked curiously.

She shook her head, her expression still stunned. “I don't—I don't feel any different.”

“I imagine that will start changing soon.” His big hands slid down to her flat belly, gently massaging. She could feel his heart thumping hard and fast against her back. His penis rose to jut insistently against her hip.

He was excited. He was aroused. She was stunned at the realization. She had been thinking he would feel only responsibility for the baby; she hadn't considered that he would be excited at the prospect of being a father. “You want the baby,” she said, her amazement plain in both face and voice. “You
wanted
me to be pregnant.”

“I sure as hell did.” His voice was rough, and he tightened his arms around her. “Don't
you
want it?”

Her hand drifted downward, lightly settling over the place where her child, his child, was forming inside her. Radiant wonder lit her face, and her gaze met Webb's in the mirror. “Oh, yes.” she said softly.

C
orliss slipped into Roanna's bedroom. She was alone upstairs, because all the others had either gone to work or were downstairs at breakfast. She had been trying to eat, but with her pounding headache and upset stomach, it had been more of a pretense than anything else. She needed some coke, just a little of it to make her feel better, but all the money she'd gotten before was already gone.

When Webb and Roanna had entered the breakfast room, she had made a point of getting up and leaving in dignified, offended silence, but they hadn't cared, the bastards. She had stopped just outside the door and listened, waiting to hear what they said about her. They hadn't mentioned her at all, as if she weren't important enough for discussion. Webb had told her to leave Davencourt and
poof!
just like that she didn't matter any more. Instead, Webb had announced that he and Roanna were getting married.

Married! Corliss couldn't believe it. The thought made her mind fog with rage. Why would anyone, especially someone like Webb, want to marry a mealymouth like Roanna? Corliss hated the bastard, but she didn't underestimate him. Despite what he'd said, she could have handled Roanna, she was sure of it. She couldn't handle Webb,
though. He was too hard, too mean. He was going to throw her out of Davencourt. And that's why she had to get rid of him.

She couldn't leave Davencourt. She felt sick with panic at the prospect. Nobody seemed to care that she
needed
to live here. She couldn't go back to that dinky little house in Sheffield, back to being just a poor relation to the rich Davenports. She was somebody now, Miss Corliss Spence, of Davencourt. If Webb threw her out, she'd become a nobody again. She wouldn't have any means of getting money for her expensive little habit. The thought was unbearable. She had to get rid of Webb.

She prowled through Roanna's room. She'd get to the money, but first she wanted to poke around a little. She'd gone first into Webb's room, hoping to find something of
his
she could use, but—surprise, surprise! It didn't look as if he'd slept there. His bed was perfectly made, not a wrinkle in it. Somehow she couldn't see him making his own bed, not the arrogant Webb Tallant.

Well, wasn't he the sly one? No wonder he hadn't wanted his old suite. He'd chosen this room beside Roanna's so they would have a cozy little arrangement, alone here at the back of the house.

She'd gone then into Roanna's room, and sure enough, the bed was a wreck, and both pillows bore the imprint of a head. Who ever would have thought it of prissy Roanna, who didn't even date? But she sure didn't mind screwing, from the looks of that bed. Smart of her, too. Corliss hated to admit it, but this was one time Roanna had been the smart one. She'd made certain Webb wouldn't tell
her
to leave, by setting herself up as a convenient source of sex, and somehow she'd convinced him to marry her. Maybe she was better in bed than she looked. Corliss would have slept with him herself if she'd thought of it. It pissed her off that she hadn't.

She wandered into the bathroom and opened the mirrored door to the medicine cabinet. Roanna never kept
anything interesting in there, no birth control pills or condoms, no diaphragm, just toothpaste and boring shit like that. She didn't even have any good cosmetics Corliss could borrow.

She glanced down at the small trash can and went still. “Well, well,” she said softly, bending down to pick up the box. A do-it-yourself pregnancy test.

So that was how Roanna had done it.

She was a fast worker, Corliss had to give her that. She must have made her plans and gotten in bed with him first thing, when she'd gone to Arizona. She probably hadn't expected to get pregnant so fast, but what the hell, sometimes you took a chance and hit the jackpot.

Wouldn't Harper Neeley be interested in hearing about this?

She didn't bother with the money after all. This was too good to wait. Quickly she slipped out of Roanna's room and went back to her own. Harper was her only hope. He was one strange dude; he scared her, but he excited her, too. He looked like there was nothing too low or raunchy for him to do, nothing he would balk at. It was weird the way he hated Webb, almost to the point he couldn't think about anything else, but that was to her advantage. Harper had messed up twice, but he would keep trying. He was like a gun; all she had to do was point him and fire.

She called him to set up a meeting.

Harper's eyes gleamed with a cold, feral light that made Corliss shiver inside with both fear and satisfaction. His reaction had been more than she'd expected.

“Are you sure she's pregnant?” he asked softly, leaning back in his chair so that the front legs came off the floor. He was poised on the back legs of the chair like an animal preparing to spring.

“I saw the damn test,” Corliss replied. “It was on top in the trash can, so she must have done it just this morning. Then they came downstairs all smiley-faced and Webb said they're getting married. What about my money?”