Читать книгу A Proposal Worth Waiting For: The Heir's Proposal / A Pregnancy, a Party & a Proposal / His Proposal, Their Forever - Raye Morgan, Melissa Mcclone - Страница 10

CHAPTER FOUR

“WHAT was that?” Lyla’s coal-black eyes were wide and startled. Her stylishly short hair was swept back in two wings at the sides of her face, making her look all the more surprised. “Was that a wolf?”

It was well after dark and Jimmy had started a fire in the fire pit on the patio overlooking the ocean. The others were gathering there, and Torie had joined them. The strange, high-pitched cry, wild and unnerving, had come during a lull in conversation.

“It sounds like a coyote,” she told the pretty woman reassuringly. “They usually shy away from humans. I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Hey, no problem,” the man named Frank told her with a leering smile. “No one’s going to let a lovely lady like you get eaten by wolves.”

“Define wolves,” his wife Phoebe interjected caustically, looking daggers at Lyla.

Torie turned away. She was definitely staying out of this one. The drinks had been flowing freely for over an hour now, so the voices were getting higher and laughter was ringing throughout the patio area. That was good as far as she was concerned. At some point, she was hoping to feel safe in slipping away and following her own plan. It was just a matter of time.

She sank down into a deep wicker chair, staring into the golden flames that were leaping higher and higher, ignoring the others and letting memories creep up out of her subconscious.

She remembered parties around this very fire pit—but not parties that she ever attended. She remembered slinking about in the shadows, watching as Ricky or Marc gathered here with their high-school friends, envying them their abandoned joy, wishing...she wasn’t sure what. But wishing with all her heart anyway for something...someone.

She glanced out into the trees, wondering if there was anyone watching the way she’d watched. Sure enough, there was Marc. He wasn’t exactly hiding the way she had, but he was watching. Right now, he had his attention trained on someone else, though, and that made her smile. He was so busy keeping tabs on everyone. What made a man so paranoid?

But she knew very well what did that. It affected her, too.

He glanced her way and her gaze met his and she made a face, hoping to annoy him. Then she winked, for no reason at all. She caught the ghost of a smile on his face before he turned away and started watching the big Texan who was enthralling one and all with tales of his cowboy days herding cattle out on the range, heading for the Chicago stockyards.

“Has this guy ever heard that trains took over that job about a hundred years ago?” Frank muttered as he walked past her.

She glanced around the circle. Once again, Carl had disappeared and she frowned. What was his problem, anyway?

Someone put a stick in her hand and she noticed, vaguely, there was something white attached to the end of it.

“Oh my gosh,” Lyla cried out as someone handed her one too. “Toasted marshmallows on a stick. Are you serious?”

Torie blinked, realizing she was right. Dutifully, she began waving it toward the flames but she wasn’t particularly interested in the results.

“You’re letting it burn,” a low voice said from behind. Marc had come in from the cold and he reached out and took the stick from her, turning it expertly so that it browned evenly. He handed it back.

She gave him a questioning look, then stared at the gooey mess on the end of her stick. “I’m supposed to eat this?”

“You’ll love it.”

“I doubt it.”

He took it off the stick and popped it into her mouth before she could stop him. That made her laugh. It was good, sugary and crisp on the outside, creamy on the inside, and delicious in a simple, childish way.

“Okay, now you have to eat one,” she said.

The look on his face told her it would be a cold day before that happened.

“Where’s Carl?” he asked, looking around at the others.

That reminded her. He thought she was a crook, and if he knew who her father was, that would probably clinch the deal in his mind. She had to be careful.

“You got me,” she responded to his question about Carl. “There’s no telling where he’s gone or what he’s up to.”

He gave her a quizzical look, then shook his head, looking at her so intensely, she felt suddenly chilled.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said, his voice low.

Something surged in her chest. “What? You and me?”

“Yeah.” His eyes shone in the shadows. “I want to talk to you. Alone.”

She felt the pull he had over her, but she could resist that. She bit her lower lip, thinking fast. She didn’t have time to talk. She had to get going on her plan, and she didn’t want him following her.

The first thing she wanted to do was to get to the house she’d lived in as a child, the one with the red tile roof, and do a little exploring. Luckily, Jimmy wasn’t living in it and it seemed to be empty. In fact, it seemed no one had lived in it for years. All the better for finding something left behind that might ignite a memory or her imagination in ways that could help her.

“I don’t think that will work,” she said, looking away. “People will notice.”

“And you care? Why?”

She frowned at him. “Because I’m a decent person, Marc. I want people to notice that. Maybe you don’t. But I do.”

Funny what amazing thoughts came tumbling out of her head because she felt she had to fight back against him. She’d never thought this position over, but now it seemed to be hers.

“And there’s something else,” she told him. “Look into my eyes. Do you see someone who’s attracted to you?” She glared at him. “Do you see someone who looks susceptible to your load of bull? Because I don’t. And I want you to acknowledge it.”

He stared at her and shook his head as though he thought she was nuts. “Okay,” he said. “Point taken. I was wrong. You don’t have a thing for me. I can accept that.”

“Can you, Marc?” She glared harder. “Good. Because I don’t have a crush on you. So don’t expect it.”

His mouth twisted in half a grin. “All right. Sorry I ever brought it up.”

“Okay.” She took a deep breath.

His mouth twisted and his gaze was sardonic. “But you’re still not married to Carl. Isn’t that right?”

She sighed and tossed her head, letting her hair fly behind her, then looked toward the fire. When she looked back, he was gone.

* * *

But he wasn’t far away. Every nerve ending he possessed, every element of caution, was on edge. There was something going on here. He could feel it in the air. He wasn’t sure what it was—but he was going to find out.

Was Torie involved? Undoubtedly. His gaze kept getting pulled back to her, leaving him halfway between bemused and annoyed. Something about her nagged at him—as though there was something he’d forgotten, something he’d filed away and put into the wrong drawer. Something just didn’t compute. Why did she look so familiar?

And where the hell was Carl? A part of him wanted to go looking for him, but then Torie would disappear. Better to stay. Someone had to keep an eye on her.

She spoke to the Texan and laughed at something he said back, but her gaze quickly returned to search him out. What expression did he see on her face? Defiance? Anger? He wasn’t sure what it was, but it only aroused his interest. He couldn’t stop looking at her. She was getting ready to make a move and he wanted to be sure he knew about it when it happened.

But the night was young and Marge had plans for them all.

“Come on, everybody,” she announced, calling them all to gather around the fire pit. “I’ve got Jimmy bringing in more wood. We’ll sit around the fire and tell stories.”

“Ghost stories?” Lyla asked, looking worried.

“No,” Marge said, laughing. “Let’s get back to the reason you’re all here. I think each of you should talk about Shangri-La and what you would do to change it into your own special dream. How about that?”

Torie couldn’t hide her smile. Marge was turning out to be quite a saleswoman. She glanced over at where Marc was standing, a beer in his hand, looking watchful.

Of course, she thought. I’m surely not the only one he’s got his eye on tonight, and that’s obvious.

Marge was trying to perk the party up, to generate some enthusiasm among the people crowding close to the fire, trying to get warm.

“Come on people. Dig deep. Think back. Recall patio parties and fireplace sing-alongs from your early days. Think of the potential here.” She looked at the faces turned her way. “Come on, Lyla,” she said. “What would you do if you owned this place?”

Lyla smiled, looking dreamy, and stepped out into the light. “I see this property as a setting for an entertainment center. I’d set up a stage and put on theatrical performances, drawing audiences down from the Bay Area and up from Los Angeles.”

“Lots of luck on that one,” the Texan chortled. “Both of those are long drives. You’ll get an audience of ten or so per show.”

Lyla shrugged elaborately. “I’ll start with that. But we would grow. Word of mouth...”

“Here’s my plan,” Phoebe chimed in happily. “I would love to have a spiritual retreat for our friends. Some are show-business people, some are politicians. They could come here and be refreshed by nature. I would put in a natural swimming pool right here, with a waterfall and vines hanging over it. I would have Greek statues all around the water.”

“That sounds like Hearst Castle.”

“Yes. I love Hearst Castle.”

“That’s okay if you’re as rich as Hearst was,” the Texan said. “Otherwise, better aim a little lower, I’d say. Stop dreaming.”

“A human must dream,” Andros protested grandly. “We have a dream too, me and Nina. We would make this place into a first-class destination resort for Mediterranean clients, people who want something different. Our restaurant would be the core project, of course. We would make the best Greek restaurant in the world, right here, an old-fashioned supper club. And we would turn the house into a hotel....”

Nina chimed in, telling them about her ancient recipes handed down through the family grandmothers. “Old-country charm supported by modern technology,” she declared. “We have such plans.”

“No way,” the Texan said dismissively. “You’re all aiming to go broke in the first year.”

“Oh yeah?” Frank retorted. “Then what’s your idea, cowboy? A dude ranch?”

“Hell no. I have no interest in drawing other people here. The first thing I’ll do is hire a geologist and a mining engineer and start drilling holes.”

“Holes?”

That got everyone’s attention and they all stared at him raptly.

“Sure. We would tear this place apart. I’m bettin’ on gold, lady. There was a pretty good vein that tapped out in the nineteenth century not far from here. I’m bettin’ we can track it down and...”

“Are you serious?” Marc said, frowning fiercely.

“California gold. That’s what the state is known for. There’s gotta be some somewhere. I’m bettin’ on these here hills.”

“You’re crazy,” Frank said, and four or five other voices joined in, each with a different view of the possibilities of finding gold.

“How about you, Torie?” Marge asked as the argument died down. “What do you and Carl have in mind?”

Torie tried to deflect the question. She didn’t want to get caught up in this. “You’ll have to ask Carl himself for that.”

All eyes were turned her way.

“We’re asking you,” Frank pointed out.

“Me?”

“Sure. Aren’t you involved?”

“Oh. Sure.” She cleared her throat. What the heck could she say? She had no idea what Carl would want. Everyone was waiting. She felt cornered.

But then it came to her—not Carl’s dream, but her own. It was a picture of what Shangri-La had been twenty years before when she’d been a child. She realized now how much she’d loved it, how central it had been to her universe—the core of her being—the place that had molded her identity.

“If I had this place all to myself,” she began, staring off at the moon drifting off over the ocean and leaving a trail of silver behind, “I would build a trellis along the walkway at the top of the cliff and grow wild roses all through it.”

She went on, caught up in the memories, and conjured up every detail of what the place had looked like in its glory days, when she was a child. Just bringing back those pictures made her heart sing. She smiled as she talked and wondered if this was what love felt like.

Marc grimaced as Torie began, tempted to go look for Carl while he knew she was occupied. He had to stop falling for the spell she seemed to weave so easily in his head and in his body. But he hesitated, and once she’d started talking, he was really listening to her words. Frowning, he concentrated. What she was saying sliced through him like a knife. The picture she was painting was one he recognized. It fit his childhood.

She knew this place. She’d been here before.

He looked over to see if his stepmother had noticed, but her attention was wrapped up in smiling at Jimmy. That made his stomach turn and he swore softly, shaking his head. Then he looked back at Torie.

Who the hell was she anyway?

* * *

Torie came out of her reverie and looked around. Everyone was staring at her and she felt her cheeks heating up. What had she said that seemed to have enthralled them all?

Her gaze met Marc’s. He looked as though he couldn’t believe what he’d been hearing, and then he jerked his head in a way that told her he wanted to talk to her privately. Something in the look on his face made her think she might want to comply this time.

She waited until the conversation began to buzz around the fire again. And when no one seemed to be paying any attention to her, she rose and slipped out of the firelight, meeting Marc on the walkway through the palms.

“What is it?” she said as she came up to him.

He was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, staring at her. “Who are you?” he demanded.

She drew in her breath and her pulse began to sputter. “I’m...I’m just Torie...”

“Torie who? What’s your real last name?”

She started to speak and he stopped her.

“Don’t give me that Marino nonsense. Your real last name.”

She shook her head, looking away. The masquerade hadn’t lasted very long, had it? “Listen Marc....”

“No, you listen. That little tale you spun out there by the fire was a perfect description of what this place used to look like twenty years ago. How did you know that?”

She tried to smile but his eyes weren’t friendly at all. She had a sinking feeling inside. She wasn’t very good at this deception stuff. She couldn’t possibly tell him everything, but maybe she could let a few things go.

“I used to live here,” she told him frankly.

He stared at her, shaking his head.

“It’s true. I’m Torie Sands.”

“Sands? As in...?”

She drew in a deep breath and came clean. “Jarvis Sands was my father.”

He stared at her. “The butler.”

“Yes.”

“The one who stole the Don Carlos Treasure.”

“No!” she said fiercely. “He never did. He was falsely accused.”

Marc’s head went back. “As I remember it, he went to jail....”

“He was never formally indicted and the treasure was found. He was released.” She shook her head, wishing her eyes weren’t stinging with tears. How could her emotions about that time be so close to the surface when it was so long ago? “It was all a horrible mistake.”

He was frowning, his gaze ranging over her face, studying every feature as though he could randomly rearrange them and get to the truth. “You used to live in the gatehouse.”

She nodded, holding herself together with effort.

“Your name wasn’t Torie though, was it?”

“No. It was Vicki.” She shrugged. “Actually, Victoria.”

He was looking at her in wonder. “You were the chubby little girl who used to throw things at me from the apple tree.”

“I never threw anything at you,” she replied, wishing she didn’t sound as though she were pouting. “But I was that little girl.”

“Vicki Sands.” He nodded slowly. “Sure, I see it now. That was you.” He shrugged as though hardly knowing what to think. “I can’t believe it.” His gaze sharpened. “So what are you doing here, Torie? Why did you come back?”

She searched his handsome face and considered telling him the truth. She wanted to. But was that smart? After all, what she was here for was to prove his family wrong. He wasn’t going to help her do that, was he? The best thing that could come out of this was if she could convince him to leave her alone and let her get on with it. She wasn’t going to get anywhere with him hanging around.

She shrugged and looked away. “Nostalgia, I guess. I thought it would be fun to see the old place again.”

“Really.” His skeptical take on her statement was obvious. “I see.” His head tilted to the side as he considered her words. “So that’s why you went straight for the caves. It had something to do with the Don Carlos Treasure. Of course.”

“No.” She turned, wanting to defend her actions, but she saw the disbelief in his eyes and she was glad she’d kept the truth to herself. “Actually, I went out there because I used to play in those caves and I wanted to see them again. For old time’s sake.”

“Right.”

He didn’t believe her but she tried to get past that. After all, what did she care if he didn’t believe her? All she really wanted from him was to be left alone. Still, there was something she had to say.

“I...I heard about what happened to your father,” she told him. “And despite everything, I was sorry he had to go that way.”

He frowned. “What do you mean, despite everything?”

She blinked at him. Didn’t he remember how it was? His father had been the one who’d had hers arrested. There was certainly cause for her to resent the man. Her father had loved working for Hunt, as they called him, and had felt personally close to him. The way his old friend had turned on him had seemed a complete betrayal. It was a major factor in his taking his own life.

She frowned and turned away, fighting back emotion, but he didn’t seem to notice that she hadn’t answered.

“Wait. I’m trying to remember. Didn’t your father die shortly after you moved back down to Los Angeles that year?” he asked her. “I thought my father had told me that.”

She nodded, holding tears back with all the strength she had. There was no way she was going to cry in front of him.

“Yes,” she said gruffly. “My mother always says he died of a broken heart.” She coughed, covering up how her voice was shaking. “But actually...actually...” She turned and looked right into his face. “Actually, he shot himself.”

“Oh God.” His face registered pure compassion for a moment, and he reached out and touched her arm. “I’m sorry, Torie. I don’t think I knew that.”

She shrugged, forcing back the lump in her throat and pulling away from his hand.

“Funny,” he said softly. “So both our fathers committed suicide. How strange.”

“Oh!” She stared at him. His eyes looked troubled in the dark. “I didn’t know. The papers didn’t say... I thought...”

“It was an accidental drowning? Yeah, we got that announced and it stuck, luckily. But he left a note. We knew he died on purpose.”

She felt as though she’d been slugged in the stomach. She’d had no idea. She’d spent a lot of time resenting the man, but to hear he’d been tortured enough to want to end it all changed a lot in her heart.

Impulsively, she reached out and took his hand. “Oh Marc, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

He gazed down into her face. Tears still shimmered in her eyes. He looked at her pretty mouth and everything in him hungered to kiss her. Why? Just because she was pretty? Just because she was so close? No matter how much she appealed to him, she wasn’t available. She might not be married to Carl, but that didn’t mean she was free.

Deliberately, he pulled away from her touch.

“Carl,” he said, reminding himself as well as her. “What’s the deal with him? What’s he looking for?”

She shook her head. “I really don’t know. He hasn’t told me.” She hesitated, thinking fast. She needed to keep her cards close to her vest. She shouldn’t tell him too much. “I thought he was interested in buying the place and wanted to check out all the details. And that’s probably all it is.”

“But you don’t know.”

She bit her lip. What could she say? “When you come right down to it, I don’t really know him all that well,” she admitted. There was no use trying to maintain the fiction that they had ever been married. It was too late for that.

“I’ve worked for him a few times. He found out I grew up here, so when he decided to come check it out, he asked if I wanted to come and pretend to be his wife.”

She looked up into his eyes, hoping she was coming across as undeniably innocent—because that was what she was. Wasn’t she? Sure she was. She was using Carl, but he was using her. They both knew the score. It was basically an arrangement of convenience for both of them.

“I thought it would be fun, so I agreed to come with him.” She shrugged. “Other than that...”

A call came from the fire-pit area. It sounded as though the others were preparing to go to their rooms for the night. Torie’s heart fell. She wouldn’t have time to go to the old house and do the investigating she’d planned to do. Even if she could lose Marc, it was just too late. The others would be looking for her.

She gazed up at his face, surprised at how he seemed to get better-looking by the hour. Was it really him? Or was it her?

“I’d better get back,” she said.

He nodded, but as she began to turn away, he caught hold of her arm and pulled her around to face him.

“Promise me one thing,” he said huskily, his gaze hooded. “Keep your door locked tonight.”

Her eyes widened. “You mean...?”

His grip on her arm tightened. “I mean keep your door locked. I don’t trust Carl.”

“Oh no. He would never...”

Something flickered in his eyes. “He’s a man, isn’t he? And you’re a very attractive woman. I don’t trust him. Lock that door.”

She took a deep breath. For some reason, her heart was beating wildly. She didn’t think of herself that way, and she didn’t really believe he meant what he said about her. But still...

“Okay.”

“I’m going to check it. I’ll give you a knock like this...” He demonstrated against a handy tree trunk. “So you’ll know it’s me. Just checking.”

She searched his eyes and shook her head. “Why are you doing this?”

He thought for a minute, his brow furrowed, and then he shook his head too. “You got me,” he said. “I guess it’s for old time’s sake. After all, you’re sort of like a baby sister to me. Aren’t you?”

She laughed shortly. “No,” she said emphatically.

He shrugged and his hand loosened on her arm. “Okay. I guess I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

She nodded. “Fine. I can accept that.”

“Good.”

He looked down and for one, heart-stopping moment, she was sure he was about to kiss her. Marc Huntington was going to kiss her. How many times had she dreamed of this moment? She waited, ready, lips slightly parted, heart beating like a jungle drum. He stared down at her for a long moment, and then something changed in his eyes and he turned away.

“Good night, Victoria Sands,” he said gruffly. “Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

And he melted into the shadows of the trees.

Her breath was coming fast, as though she’d just been running hard, and her face was burning. She felt like a fool. When would she ever learn? Marc Huntington was not for her. Never would be.

* * *

Back at the house, she managed to evade Carl as she passed the fire pit and made it all the way to her bedroom before he caught up with her.

“Hold it,” he said, thrusting his shoulder in the way of her closing the door. “We’ve gotta talk.”

“Carl, it’s been a long day. I need to get some sleep.”

“You can sleep all you want, but I need some help first. I need you to update the map.”

She sighed. The map she’d drawn of the Shangri-La estate was rough at best. She’d done it from memory and given it to him back when they were first planning this little adventure. In some ways it had been a labor of love and she’d enjoyed dredging up all her old stories as she worked on it.

“What’s missing?” she asked.

“The caves.” He pulled a folded paper out of his jacket and looked at her quizzically, his gaze cold. “I’m just wondering. Why did you leave out the caves?”

That was a good question and she wasn’t really sure what the answer was.

“Listen Carl, just leave the map with me and I’ll get them sketched in by lunch tomorrow.”

“No,” he said, a hint of anger beginning to surface in his voice. “I need it tonight. I need...”

“Is there a problem?”

They both jumped and turned to find Marc coming down the hall toward them.

“Something I can do to help?” he asked silkily, staring at Carl.

Carl grabbed his map back and shoved it into his jacket, shaking his head and looking resentful. “No. It’s nothing.” He began to retreat toward his own room. “Okay, Torie. We’ll deal with it in the morning. See you then.”

She looked at Marc and he raised an eyebrow. “I know,” she told him. He didn’t have to say it. “Lock my door. Don’t worry. I will.”

And he was right, she mused as she prepared for bed. Carl had seemed so harmless when she’d agreed to come on this trip, but he’d changed. There was an intensity in Carl she’d never noticed before. She wasn’t sure if she could say that she trusted him any longer.

She knew Marc didn’t. But then, he didn’t trust her either, did he?

Later, as she drifted into sleep, she thought she heard shouting. She sat up and tried to analyze what it was, but the sounds had faded by the time she was awake enough. Maybe she’d dreamed it. She lay back down but what little sleep she got after that was fitful. It was hard to let go when she knew that she was planning to get up and go exploring in a couple of hours anyway.

* * *

Plans that looked easy to execute from a distance always looked so impossible once you got face to face with the time to act. It was 1:00 a.m. and Torie’s eyes were wide open, waiting for her little buzzer alarm on her cell phone to sound.

She felt as if she hadn’t slept a wink. A part of her tried to justify just rolling over and going back to sleep, but she’d come all this way and she knew she couldn’t miss this chance.

Her heart was beating in her throat. Was she really going to do this? Was she really going to start sneaking around, looking for information? Maybe it would be better to wait until morning when the light would be better and she could just be casual and find people to ask questions of.

“Coward!”

She said the word aloud, goading herself into action as the buzzer sounded and she reached out to stop it. She couldn’t let this opportunity pass without taking advantage of it.

“Carpe diem,” she added firmly, just for fun. Yes, she would seize the day. What else had she come for, anyway?