A Scandalous Inheritance Page 7

  ‘The twins tell me that you used to live on a farm.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I did… In Cheshire. It had been in my father’s family for generations, but when my parents were killed it had to be sold. I’ve promised to send home for my photograph albums so that I can show them what it was like. It’s impossible to describe to them. Everything was so green.’

  There was a wistfulness in her voice that didn’t go unnoticed by the older woman.

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard tell that England is… Jay’s brother married an English girl. It wasn’t what Tip wanted for him. He’d got something else arranged for him. A girl he’d picked out himself for him, but then Nat went and married this English girl he met in Vegas—a showgirl she was. Tip never approved of her. He and Nat quarrelled badly about it. Tip all but threw him out. It was Jay who persuaded Tip to let him come back. I think Tip might have gotten used to her if the twins had been boys. He was that kind of man,’ she added, when she saw Natasha’s faint moue of distress. ‘Yeah, Jay did his brother a real good turn there, but it all backfired in his face and cost Jay dear…’ She suddenly seemed to remember exactly who Natasha was, and stood up, reverting to her earlier curt manner, as she indicated the milk and sandwiches.

  ‘Don’t worry about the tray, I’ll send someone up to fetch it later.’

  All in all it had been a very odd sort of day, Natasha thought sleepily less than an hour later, as the sedatives she had taken for her headache began to take effect. Now that she had made the decision to stay here she would have to write to her bank and arrange to have some funds transferred over here. She would need to… She fell asleep half-way through the thought, dreaming wildly confused dreams in which Jay Travers featured rather disturbingly.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘WAKE up, Natasha! Have you forgotten that Uncle Jay’s taking us to Dallas today?’

  Natasha had! She stifled a faint groan as one of the twins tugged on her duvet cover. Opening her eyes, she recognised Cherry. A morning in bed following her brief spell of sunstroke had soon returned her to her normal good health, but for a moment she had a cowardly impulse to claim that she really didn’t feel well enough to make the trip into the city.

  She squashed it firmly, feeling both cowardly and guilty. The girls were both looking forward to the treat so much that she could hardly explain to them that her own lack-lustre behaviour sprang from her reluctance to spend any more time than strictly essential in the company of their uncle.

  In fact, if it wasn’t for the fact that she was convinced that there was far more to Tip’s will than initially met the eye, she would have been safely at home already. But Tip had obviously wanted her to stay at the ranch. He had known that money would never tempt her—after all, she had enough of her own—but his grandson, it seemed, lacked the older man’s keen perception.

  Scowling horribly, she threw back the quilt and stood up.

  ‘Come on,’ Cherry urged. ‘Dolores is making pancakes. You won’t want to miss them…’

  Dolores was a marvellous cook, but the thought of pancakes for breakfast was not one that tempted Natasha’s appetitie. What did tempt her, though, was the thought of Dolores’s wonderful coffee.

  ‘Give me ten minutes,’ she told Cherry, adding reluctantly, ‘What time are we supposed to be leaving?’

  ‘Straight after breakfast. Uncle Jay did tell us last night,’ Cherry told her in a faintly aggrieved accent. ‘After you’d gone to bed…’

  Natasha bit her lip. Every night since her arrival at the ranch, she had discovered some excuse for going to bed early so that she could avoid spending any more time than strictly necessary in Jay’s company. It wasn’t that she was frightened of him—far from it, despite that brooding, almost menacing quality she sensed about him at times. No, her desire to hold him at a safe distance sprang as much from emotional vulnerability as physical dread. But why on earth should she feel like that? What possible emotional risk could Jay be to her?

  She didn’t know; she didn’t want to know, she admitted restlessly as Cherry disappeared, and she opened her wardrobe doors to look for something to wear.

  A day in the city…shopping…lunch… She mentally reviewed the pretty, colourful wardrobe she had bought especially for this trip, and then rejected everything in it, in favour of an outfit she had bought in the spring from Harrods.

  The tailored navy skirt flattered her slender hips; the navy and white blouse, with its puffed half-sleeves and neat little collar, adding a touch of demure femininity. Over the top went an unlined seven-eighths-length coat in navy with chalk-white lines making bold checks. In all, it was an elegant, even sophisticated outfit. The sort of outfit worn by a confident woman; the kind of outfit that would show Jay Travers the type of adversary he had to deal with.

  Dolores frowned at her when she walked into the breakfast-room, dourly indicating the jug of coffee she was putting down.

  ‘It’s fresh, so don’t let it go cold.’

  Already Dolores had discovered one of her weaknesses, Natasha realised as she helped herself to the fragrant brew.

  A careful but thorough inspection of the breakfast-room had assured her that Jay wasn’t in it. Both girls had heaped plates of pancakes, and although Natasha’s stomach heaved a little as she watched Cherry ladling thick syrup on to hers, it settled down again quickly enough.

  ‘Uncle Jay says we’re to be ready and out front by ten,’ Rosalie informed Natasha.

  ‘Pa always used to get furious with Mom when she kept him waiting, do you remember, Cherry?’

  Sadness shadowed Rosalie’s face as she spoke, and Natasha felt an instant surge of sympathy. She knew what it was like to lose dearly loved parents. She felt her throat thicken with tears—not for herself, but for the girls. Jay, with his dour, almost bitter remoteness, was surely not the right man to have charge of these two young people with their specific emotional needs. They needed someone they could relate to, someone who would listen to them, who knew what they were going through…

  Someone like herself, perhaps. Hence Tip’s will?

  And yet the older man had not struck her as the type who would have sufficient sensitivity to think of the girls’ emotional needs.

  ‘They were always fighting,’ Cherry’s voice was bleak and curt, and as she looked up at her in startled surprise, for the first time, Natasha saw something of her sardonic uncle in the young girl’s face.

  Rosalie made a small moue of distress, but Cherry wouldn’t be silenced.

  ‘You know they were. I reckon they would have got a divorce. Mom was always going on about how she had never really loved Pa, how she hadn’t wanted to marry him and go live on a ranch, and how he had persuaded her… Sometimes I used to think she preferred Uncle Jay to Pa.’

  There was a small silence and then Dolores bustled in, commanding that they finish their pancakes. Had the housekeeper overheard what Cherry was saying, or was her appearance merely fortuitous?

  Had Jay secretly been in love with his brother’s wife? Was that what made him so withdrawn and cynical? Was that why he had never married despite his grandfather’s wish that he should?

  It made unpleasant sense. Natasha gnawed at her bottom lip. How dreadful it must have been for the girls’ father if it was true! How dreadful for all of them. Was that what had made Jay hate the female sex—an unwanted desire for his brother’s wife? And he was the type who would put loyalty to his brother before his own feelings, who would even blame the woman who was the innocent cause of those feelings.

  She was spending far too much time worrying herself about Jay’s motives, she told herself as she finished her second cup of coffee and got up.

  There was just enough time for her to go back upstairs and freshen her make-up before they were due to meet Jay at the front of the house.

  Upstairs in her room, she thanked her lucky stars that she didn’t need to wear very much on her skin. The humidity and heat of Texas were not conducive to retaining a perfectly made-up skin. Hers was good
enough to withstand exposure with just a light covering of sun screen and a touch of creme blusher to highlight cheek and browbones.

  A soft slick of glossy lipstick added another touch of colour and she was ready.

  Her shiny straw hat with a wide brim that framed her face would protect her from the sun, and as an added precaution she picked up her sunglasses. She wasn’t going to fall into the same trap twice and be accused of faking her malaise simply to get Jay’s attention.

  That accusation still stung; all the more so because it was not true, and because she had always loathed those sort of feminine wiles. She hated the role Tip seemed to have cast for her. Playing a femme fatale had never held any appeal for her, and it was that aspect of her role that she disliked the most—more so in some ways than being accused of being a gold-digger—perhaps because this latter accusation would be so easy to disprove, should she ever wish to do so.

  She deliberately timed her arrival downstairs to coincide with that of the twins. Like her, they were dressed for the city, although casually in attractive cotton bermudas, with matching patterned tops.

  ‘Jenneth bought these for us, the last time we went to Dallas.’

  ‘Jenneth was Uncle Jay’s girlfriend once,’ Cherry confided pulling a face. ‘We don’t like her very much. She’s too bossy. We’re both glad that she married someone else, aren’t we, Ros?’

  ‘Yes,’ her twin agreed. ‘But sometimes I think that she would still rather have Uncle Jay than Howie. Gramps used to say that when she was around Jay needed protecting from himself. It was because of Gramps that they didn’t get married. She had no money, and Gramps said that she was just after Jay’s, didn’t he, Cherry?’

  All too conscious that she should have stopped this conversation long before it had reached this stage, Natasha still experienced a guilty desire to learn a little more about this unsuspected aspect of Jay’s personality. Had she been wrong then in thinking he loved the girls’ mother? It seemed so… And she could certainly see Tip refusing to allow his grandson to marry badly. And yet, what she had seen so far of Jay had not inclined her to the view that he would be easy to dictate to. Far from it, in fact. Of course, Tip had held the purse-strings…

  She sighed faintly, her thoughts shooting off at so many tangents that she couldn’t control them.

  ‘Jenneth and Howie are coming over to dinner tomorrow night,’ Cherry told her. ‘Howie’s in oil, and he’s really, really rich. Much richer than Gramps or Jay…’

  ‘Yeah, and doesn’t Jenneth just love letting us all know it?’ Rosalie commented in a drawl that was astoundingly like her uncle’s.

  Both girls giggled. ‘Wait until you see her, Natasha! Silk dresses and loads and loads of jewellery…’

  ‘And make-up…lots and lots of that, too. And the way she looks at Uncle Jay…’

  ‘Yeah, I wonder who’s going to protect him from himself now that Gramps has gone?’ Rosalie asked a little mournfully. ‘I’d hate for Jenneth to divorce Howie and come and live here. She’d send us both off to boarding school in Europe, I just know it. She doesn’t like us.’

  ‘Yeah, Gramps used to say she was like a pie that was all crust and no meat,’ Cherry confided, ‘and that if Uncle Jay took a bite it would choke in his craw!’

  It was definitely time to put an end to these confidences and, taking hold of both girls, Natasha said firmly, ‘That’s enough, both of you. I’m sure your uncle would be far from pleased if he could hear what you’re saying about his private life.’

  Fortunately, before either of them could make a rejoinder, Jay himself drove up in the same vehicle he had used to transport them from the airstrip on Natasha’s arrival.

  Now, as then, Natasha elected to sit in the back with the girls. This time, she looked around with interest as they drove out to the airstrip, and Natasha noticed two distinctive and different breeds of cattle grazing on either side of the tarmac road.

  An expertise that she had forgotten she possessed informed her that these were the two breeds Jay was hoping to cross to get a new, hardier strain of animal.

  When she said as much Jay was so surprised that he turned his head to look at her, almost releasing his hold on the steering wheel.

  ‘You’ve been busy doing your homework,’ he said airily when he had recovered from his shock. ‘But those tactics won’t work on me, so you’re wasting your time.’

  Natasha felt her skin burn, and would have made an equally offensive response, if she hadn’t suddenly remembered that they weren’t alone.

  Luckily, they were almost at the airstrip and in the bustle of getting out of the truck and into the plane, the girls forgot what they had overheard.

  It didn’t take long to get to Dallas. Natasha’s feelings were still stinging from Jay’s sarcasm, and she refused the hand he held out to her as she got off the plane, turning her face aside, so that the wind whipped against her skin, and she had to reach up to clutch on to her hat.

  In her high heels, she teetered dangerously on the steel steps. She heard Jay curse, and then his arms came round her, blotting out everything else, the harsh male scent of him surrounding her, invoking a weak, feminine dizziness that was her body’s instinctive response to his masculinity.

  He released her almost immediately; the whole incident had only lasted seconds, and yet it was imprinted on her memory and her senses in a way that was having a devastating effect on her.

  She felt boneless and oddly shaky, torn between a need to cling to him and a need to push him away; shocked by her reactions and yet, at the same time, strangely exhilarated, as though she had discovered a magical elixir of which only she knew the source.

  Dallas was hot, and very windy. To Natasha’s surprise, a sleek chauffeur-driven limousine was waiting for them. Jay shepherded all three of them into it, and then, to her consternation, climbed into the back seat himself to sit next to her.

  The pressure of his lean, hard thigh against her own was shockingly disturbing, and even though she knew it was not done deliberately she was intensely conscious of every tiny movement of his body as Jay leaned forward to instruct the driver.

  ‘I’ve organised a room for you at the Hotel Crescent Court. We’ll go there now, and then the car and the driver will be at your disposal for the rest of the day.’

  Natasha wanted to protest, but the words stuck in her throat. This wasn’t the way she was used to shopping, ferried around in air-conditioned luxury in a chauffeur-driven car, but Dallas wasn’t London, and she was aware from Tip’s conversation that Americans never walked when they could ride. From the girls’ lack of reaction to Jay’s statement, it seemed as though shopping with the luxury of a chauffeur-driven car was nothing out of the ordinary to them, and so Natasha kept her own thoughts very firmly to herself.

  The hotel and its surroundings took Natasha’s breath away, and she stared out of the car window as the girls pointed out the triple towers that housed the complex’s office blocks, and the tri-level landscaped shops and galleries.

  Even in a city where money was virtually no object, this complex of hotels, office space and shopping malls must surely stand out, Natasha thought, awed, as the car slid to a silent halt outside the hotel entrance.

  With a brief word to their driver, Jay escorted them all inside. In the close confines of the car it had seemed only natural that she should be so intensely aware of him, but now that they were out of the car it was still there and she didn’t like it.

  Unlike many of the other men in the hotel lobby, who were wearing casual clothes, including jeans, Jay was dressed in an immaculate pale grey fine wool suit. He ought to have looked uncomfortable in it, given his ranching life, but he didn’t. Even his pale grey Stetson didn’t look entirely out of place. If she was honest with herself, she would have to admit that it gave him a certain hard-edged, very masculine air, emphasising the intensely male aura that seemed to surround him.

  She wasn’t the only one to notice it, Natasha reflected wryly, noticing the way
the striking, attractive blonde behind the reception desk started to glow with animation as Jay walked towards her.

  From their soft-voiced exchange, it was obvious that the girl knew Jay’s name. There was a subtle blend of respect and curiosity in her voice that Natasha recognised as female responsiveness to Jay as a man, as well as a more worldly recognition of his financial status.

  ‘Here you are.’

  Jay handed Natasha a room key.

  ‘The room’s yours for the day. I’ll meet you here at one o’clock for lunch—Jake knows to get you back here for then. We’ll be leaving at five. That should give you enough time to get all you want.’ He started to move away and then hesitated, frowning as he reached into the inside pocket of his suit, and withdrew an envelope which he handed to her.

  Natasha shivered sensitively as their fingers touched. It was as though an electrical impulse shot through her. She watched the way his dark eyebrows contracted, almost meeting over the jutting bridge of his nose.

  ‘There should be enough there to cover all the girls want. If there isn’t, tell the store to charge it and send the account to me. You shouldn’t have any problems.’

  A brief glance in the envelope made Natasha’s eyes widen even further. She didn’t know what prices were going to be like in Dallas, but to get through that little lot the girls would have to be dressed from head to foot in designer outfits, not once, but several times over.

  Before he left, Jay pointed out to her where she could find the hotel’s coffee shop. On seeing the anxious, although patient, expressions in the twins’ eyes, she said firmly that she didn’t need anything and that they might as well start shopping right away.

  Their first port of call was one of the new malls in the Crescent complex.

  Almost straight away they found a pleasant boutique stocking pre-teenager clothes, and although privately Natasha thought that silk shorts and tops were ridiculously fussy and impractical for girls the twins’ age, she did like the fresh, bright cottons that the assistant brought out to show them.