скачать книгу бесплатно
Shaking free of the self-imposed restrictions of her London life had unleashed something elemental and untamed within her, releasing a female power she was not yet aware of. It clung to her as provocatively as the scent of musk; invisible, and yet strong enough to draw the masculine eye and attention.
Luckily, the plane wasn’t full, and so she had the advantage of an empty seat in which to place her bag. She settled down for the long flight and opened her book.
Dallas came as something of a disappointment, but she told herself that it was only to be expected that one airport should be much like another.
At Customs, her passport was examined by a tall red-headed man, who hesitated and then said in a soft Texan drawl, ‘Miss Ames, you’ll find someone waiting to meet you in the Arrivals lounge. Have a nice day!’
Someone had come to meet her? The fatigue of the long flight fell away and she felt a sudden surge of optimism. She had heard about American hospitality, and now it seemed that she was to experience it first-hand.
As she waited for her luggage, she surveyed the exit to the Arrivals hall. Luckily her cases came off almost first. A lone male traveller offered to put them into her trolley, but she refused, her cool smile fending him off. He watched her departing back with a rueful grimace which she didn’t see.
The Arrivals hall was seething, and she frowned as she looked hesitantly round it. Someone was waiting for her here, but who? And how on earth was she supposed to recognise them?
In the end, she didn’t need to. A hand suddenly gripped her elbow, causing her to spin round in sudden shock.
Cold grey eyes stared down into the wary amber depths of hers, a hard, chiselled male face studying her with acute dislike.
‘Natasha Ames.’
It was a statement and not a question, delivered in a thin-lipped drawl that held none of the lazy warmth of the customs officers. An almost hawklike profile; a Stetson worn low over his forehead; glossy, thick, night-black hair … these were the first impressions of the man holding on to her.
She tried to pull free, wincing as she felt the callused pads of his fingers tighten their grip. He was tall enough for her to need to tilt her head right back to look into his face, immediately putting her at a disadvantage. A prickle of atavistic animosity ran through her. Without a word being exchanged she knew that this man didn’t like her. She felt it bone-deep in the contact of his flesh on hers; had seen it in that brief clash of eyes.
Who was he, and why had he come to meet her? She had been perfectly happy with her own arrangements for getting out to the ranch!
The strong streak of independence bred in her by her ancestors flared up dangerously, her eyes cold, her voice as brittle and clear as glass as she stood back from him and demanded coolly, ‘You seem to have the advantage of me … You appear to know my name, but I’m afraid I don’t know yours, Mr …’
Her coldness made as much impact as snow falling on foot-thick ice. He looked down at her, grey eyes boring into her skull, cynicism carved deeply into the lines round his eyes and mouth.
‘My grandfather said you were a sassy little thing … It wasn’t often that he made an error of judgement.’ A thin smile twisted his mouth. ‘Is that how you would describe yourself, Miss Ames?’
Again that grey-eyed glance slashed across her face, telling her that his description of her would always be less than flattering.
Fighting against a sudden surge of uneasiness, she struggled to meet him on equal terms, refusing to be dominated by his arrogant masculine demeanour.
‘No … no, it isn’t,’ she told him calmly. ‘For one thing, I’m not exactly little—’ Her eyes held his, warning him that she was not going to allow him to browbeat her.
‘I’ve just had a long flight here … It’s very kind of you to meet me, but I do have a hotel room booked, so if you will excuse me.’
Her voice matched his for coldness, she made a move to walk past him, but he still held on to her arm, and the force he used to make her stand still left her short of breath, although she was too angry and too proud to let him see it.
‘Let’s get this over with just as quickly as possible, shall we, Miss Ames? You’re here to see what the old man left you, and for no other reason, no matter how much you might want to play at being a tourist. My plane is standing by to fly us out to the ranch … If you’d like to come this way …’
Anger took over. She dug her heels in, resisting his attempt to draw her forward.
‘Now, just a minute … I’m not going anywhere with you. For one thing, I don’t have the faintest idea who you are, and I …’
‘You what?’ His voice was soft, but the look he gave her was decidedly ugly. ‘Don’t go home with strange men? That’s not the way the old man told it …’
She had to bite down hard on the words springing to her tongue. Tip had been the type of man to indulge in a little harmless boasting. It was obvious now that this man standing in front of her was his grandson, even though he hadn’t introduced himself to her. Who knew what tall tales Tip had taken home with him? Seventy-odd or not, he had still been the sort of man who enjoyed female adulation. She had seen that and been tenderly amused by it, even though she had made it quite clear that their relationship was one of friendship only and she knew that she had won his respect, but even so she did not put it entirely past him to have returned home boasting about his English conquest. He had been that sort of man …
Unlike his grandson, she decided, risking a brief glance at the hard profile angled towards her. This man would never, ever discuss his relationship with women in his life; if indeed there was a woman hardy enough to brave that icy disdain!
The anger that had flared in her died suddenly, her interest piqued by his attitude towards her. What did it matter what he or anyone else here thought about her? Her relationship with Tip had been wholly innocent, and she ought to be amused rather than annoyed that a man as cynical and worldly as this one obviously was could be taken in by an old man, bluffing his way through life. Even so, she was still angry enough to want to taunt him a little.
Looking up at him through dark, curling lashes, she said sweetly, ‘Do I look the sort of woman who makes a play for older men?’
Her gibe bounced harmlessly off him, his eyes narrowing in bitter concentration on the upturned oval of her face as he said bitterly, ‘Yes … provided he’s rich enough to afford you. Gramps told us you worked in an art gallery—where they paid you peanuts. That fancy rig you’re wearing didn’t come cheap, lady …’
It took her a moment to catch her breath, and by that time he was hurrying her through the Arrivals hall.
What on earth had happened to this man to make him so bitter, so cynical about her sex? He was what … somewhere in his early thirties? Good-looking, if you liked the rough-hewn, domineering type. More than good-looking, she acknowledged with another quick glance at his impassive profile. He was dark enough to possess Indian or Mexican blood; she couldn’t remember Tip mentioning anything about either of his son’s wives. Women hadn’t held much importance in Tip’s life, except as the providers of sons and grandsons, and great-grandsons …
‘It’s very kind of you to come all this way simply to pick me up, Mr …’
The sweet sarcasm of her comment bounced back off him. With a hard sideways look, he told her laconically, ‘I didn’t … I had to come down to pick up the girls.’
The girls! Wild thoughts of tarty good-time girls joining them on the flight were swiftly banished when he added, ‘They’re at school here in Dallas, and school’s out for the summer now …’
‘Oh, I see.’ She didn’t, of course, but it was becoming a challenge to see if she could actually goad him into some sort of response, and so she added questioningly, ‘The girls … they’re your daughters?’
She could feel the heat in the sideways glance slashed in her direction, and she had to fight against responding to it.
‘My brother’s.’
She could almost feel the tight-lipped clenching of his jaw that went with the raw admission. Why should it cause him so much pain to tell her that? She frowned, deep in thought, trying to remember the little Tip had told her about his family. There had been another grandson; he had been killed, like her parents, in a road accident along with his wife. Ah, yes, she remembered it now. Something about a quarrel, but between whom and what about she didn’t know.
Tip hadn’t mentioned his great-granddaughters at all, but then, of course, they were female … and thus to be easily disregarded.
She frowned again as they walked out across the hot tarmac. Her captor was still holding her arm; standing between her and the hot wind racing across the exposed space, but she didn’t delude herself that he was standing so close to her from any gentlemanly concern for her.
This hostility, this almost ferocious dislike of her wasn’t something she had bargained for and yet, instead of frightening her, she found it challenging.
Again those callused fingertips brushed her skin, causing a faint frisson of sensation to whirl through her. Without turning to look at him, she knew that he was aware of her sudden shiver, and she hoped that he thought it was caused by dislike. It was rather unnerving to be so aware of him as a man, when quite plainly he loathed and detested the very sight of her.
He must have recognised her from the few photographs Tip had insisted on them having taken together, she mused as they approached an immaculate—although frighteningly small—Cessna aircraft, which brought her back to another matter.
‘You still haven’t told me your name,’ she reminded him when they stopped alongside the plane. Where on earth had it come from, this dangerous desire to goad him until she could see the grey eyes burn with controlled ire?
‘Jay—Jay Travers,’ he told her laconically. ‘I’m sure my grandfather mentioned me to you.’
His mouth twisted oddly over this last cynical statement, and deep down inside her something fluttered in feminine response.
‘Oh, yes,’ she countered sweetly, determined not to let him see how he affected her. ‘But only as ‘‘my grandson’’.’
There, that should put him in his place! He struck her as a man so fiercely proud and independent that he would loathe the very thought of being considered a mere adjunct to anyone.
He didn’t make any attempt to help her board the small plane, much to her relief. She didn’t like the way her thought processes became tangled up when he touched her.
As she entered the small cabin, she saw that it already had two other occupants.
‘You found her then, Uncle Jay. Great, now we can go! I’m just dyin’ to git back to the ranch …’
‘You quit talking like that, Rosalie … You know that Gramps sent us to school so that we could learn to talk properly and become ladies.’
Two voices, one brimful of mischief, the other slightly prim; two identical faces with matching sets of blonde pigtails; two small noses liberally sprinkled with freckles, and two pairs of grey eyes remarkably like those possessed by their uncle.
The girls were twins, and they were studying Natasha with open interest.
‘Is this her, then, Uncle Jay? Gramps’s fancy-piece?’
A muffled giggle from the silent twin belied the innocence shining out of the clean little-girl face.
Although she fought against showing it, Natasha was appalled. Was that how all of Tip’s family thought of her? If so, she would have to disabuse them of their false ideas, right away. She opened her mouth to do so, and would have done, if she hadn’t caught the faint flicker of fear running over the silent twin’s face. She turned her head to see what had frightened her, and realised that Jay was standing behind her, studying the twins with hard implacability.
‘Apologise to Miss Ames, Rosalie,’ he commanded, thin-lipped. ‘That’s not the way to treat our guests.’
A bright flush stained the small face, and Natasha felt her heart go out to the child. She was, after all, only repeating what she must have overheard from adults. She wanted to say as much to Jay Travers, but was surprised to discover that she didn’t have the courage.
‘I’m sorry I was rude, Miss Ames.’
Two pairs of grey eyes watched her uncertainly, and then the irrepressible Cherry burst out, ‘If you’d have married Gramps, would that have made you our grandmother? We’d have liked that, wouldn’t we, Rose? Gramps was always saying that we needed a woman about the place. I ‘spect that’s why he brought you out here …’
Natasha could feel the hairs lifting at the back of her neck, and she knew that the sudden tension filling the small enclosed space did not come from her.
What had Cherry said that made Jay go so instantly tense? Whatever it was, she was not likely to find out. Besides, she had more pressing matters to attend to right now.
‘Cherry, your grandfather and I were friends—nothing more,’ she explained as she leaned towards the little girl. ‘And he didn’t bring me out here, I came because …’
‘Because he’s left you half the ranch. Yes, we know all about that!’
‘Cherry!’
The whip-hard voice cut through the little girl’s revelations.
Natasha spun round, her face suddenly milk-white. It couldn’t be true, Cherry must have misunderstood. She opened her mouth to question Jay, but he was already turning his back on her.
‘Time we were taking off … Cherry, please show Miss Ames how to fasten herself into her seat …’
‘Just a minute …’
It was too late, he was already disappearing into the nose of the aircraft, and as she subsided into her seat alongside the girls she was dimly aware of Cherry saying placatingly, ‘Don’t worry, Miss Ames. Uncle Jay is a real good pilot … You’ll be quite safe.’
She lay back in her seat and closed her eyes, trembling with shock. Tip couldn’t have left her half the ranch; it just wasn’t possible. The twins must have overheard something and misunderstood the situation … She looked covertly at them. They were what … ten? Nine? Old enough and intelligent enough not to make those kind of mistakes … Something twisted painfully deep inside her. She had to have an explanation. She had to get off this plane.
She wasn’t even aware of struggling to sit up until she felt Cherry tugging sympathetically on her arm.
‘It’s all right, Miss Ames, really,’ the little girl reassured her. ‘We’ll be there inside an hour. You’re quite safe … Rosalie used to hate flying too, didn’t you?’
Her sister nodded.
‘And driving—especially after Momma and Poppa were killed.’ She shuddered tensely, her eyes clouding.
‘Gramps told us that your parents died in a car crash just like ours.’ Cherry looked at her uncertainly. ‘Did they?’
‘Yes. Yes, they did. When I was sixteen …’
‘And where did you go? What happened to you?’
‘I went to live with my aunt and uncle.’
‘Just like us with Uncle Jay. He takes care of us now, but he doesn’t have a wife, does he, Rose?’ She looked to her twin for corroboration. ‘Gramps wanted him to get married. He was always going on about it. ‘‘The ranch needs sons’’—that’s what he used to say …’
‘Did he tell you that our great-grandmother was an Indian?’
So that explained the dark hair and olive skin! Natasha gave Cherry a distracted smile, and was on the point of asking her gently if she really should be telling her so much about her family, when Rosalie added, ‘She was his second wife. He had another one first … She came from New York, and she was very rich, but she died …’
‘Yes, and Gary, her son, quarelled with Gramps because he wanted to sell the ranch, and so Gramps gave him the oil wells. And then he got married again and had another son so that he could leave him the land …’
Tip had mentioned a family feud to her, but she had never pressed him for further details. In Cheshire, people were reticent about their family history. Here in Texas it seemed to be just the opposite.
‘Our mummy went away and left us, but Daddy went to get her back—’
‘That’s when they were killed … They were always fighting, weren’t they, Rose? But we miss them a lot …’
There was no mistaking the emotion in those few pitiful words, and Natasha felt her own eyes fill up with tears.
‘Gramps said that we needed a woman to love us, and that men don’t understand women’s things … We thought he meant that Uncle Jay was going to get married … women flock round him like bees round honey … but he don’t have no truck with them, does he, Rose? Gramps used to say that he was a mis a …’
‘A misogynist,’ Natasha told her wryly.
Their conversation was a blend of naëveté and sophistication: bits of gossip picked up here and there around the ranch no doubt. Even though Tip had not mentioned them to her, she sensed that they had loved him very deeply, and he had obviously cared for them; cared enough, at least, to know that they needed a woman to share their lives.
‘Gramps told us a secret before he died. He made us promise not to tell anyone …’
The grey eyes sparkled, and Natasha knew that she was being begged to question this secret. However, she shook her head; she felt she had already pried far enough into Tip’s family history, albeit innocently.
‘If it’s a secret, that’s the way it must stay … Your grandfather wouldn’t have told it to you if he wasn’t sure you could keep it.’
She felt mean as she watched the excitement die out of their eyes, but she told herself it was for the best. Already in these two girls she sensed a yearning, a reaching out to her, which she suspected stemmed not just from their own need to replace their dead mother, but also from Tip’s careful tutoring.
It was no secret that he had wanted Jay to marry, and what better way to coerce him than to enrol the two little girls on his side? A mother for them, a wife for Jay, and a great-grandson for Tip … Oh, yes! He had been a wily old character, Natasha reflected grimly. But none of that could explain Cherry’s comment about his will.
There was no way that the man she had known in London would have parted with a single inch of his land to someone outside his family. No, the girls must have overheard something and misinterpreted it. To judge from the reception she had received from Jay, she was already marked down as a first cousin to a fortune-hunter, and no doubt the girls had picked up some derogatory remark made about her by their uncle and woven their own reason for it.
It had been dusk when she arrived at Dallas; now it was fully dark. Not the dark of London that she was used to, but the dense blackness of the wide open spaces, illuminated only by the stars, surely far more brilliant here than they had ever seemed at home?
Despite her tiredness, despite the shock of Jay’s hostility and the twins’ revelations, somewhere deep down inside her that tiny flicker of excitement still burned. Idiotically, since she was in a fully enclosed plane, she felt as though she could almost smell the hot, dry scent of the land, as though its lure and magic were already weaving their spell around her.
