Wild Horses. Bethany Campbell
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to see her,” he repeated, his lip curling in a sneer. “And I did. I figured out which one she is from the pictures of Beverly’s wedding. She’s a very lovely woman, Carolyn is.”
“Yes, she is,” Mickey snapped. “And you’re a very ill-bred man. Good night.”
She stalked from the room, her heart slamming so hard she could barely breathe. She would call Vern. She hoped he would tell her to throw Duran out of the house, executor or not, will or no will. Let Martin Avery handle it. And she was going to read Bridget the riot act.
But not now. Not yet. She was too upset. She threw open the French doors in the living room that led to the screened deck. She stepped outside into the gathering darkness, grateful for the coolness of the evening air on her heated skin.
She was so furious that she shook and her blood banged in her temples. Too much had happened today. She could stand no more. She forced herself to breathe deeply. She closed her eyes and covered them with her hands.
Perhaps she had overreacted to the man. But he really was the last straw. She started to count from one to a hundred, trying to calm herself.
But suddenly she realized she was not alone. She could feel another presence; feel his presence. She opened her eyes and whirled to face him.
She was about to order him to get away from her, but before she could speak, he laid his forefinger against her lips. The movement was full of such self-assurance, it shocked her wordless.
He pressed his finger against her mouth more firmly. “Shhh,” he commanded in a low voice. “I only wanted to see what she looks like. What she seems like. And I have the right. I’m her brother. Her half brother. Enoch’s my uncle, too. And he didn’t leave the lease lands to her. He left them to me.”
CHAPTER FOUR
MICKEY GAPED AT HIM, speechless. She felt as if she’d taken a punch to the stomach. Nausea and giddiness spun within her. She couldn’t get her breath.
Carolyn’s half brother? Impossible. He couldn’t be. He was younger even than Carolyn’s daughter.
Yet, not impossible.
Frantically, Mickey’s eyes explored his moonlit features. He did resemble Carolyn. Even more, he looked like Carolyn’s late sister, Pauline. She should have seen it from the first.
He had Pauline’s square jaw and stubborn chin. He had her straight nose, her sculpted mouth. His eyes were blue, like Pauline’s, but otherwise they were like Carolyn’s eyes, too: deep-set, thick-lashed, intense.
But his age and masculinity had disguised the similarities. So Mickey stood transfixed, both believing and not believing. “No,” she objected, as if that word could break the evil spell his words had cast.
“Yes,” he whispered. He was so close she could feel his breath tickle her cheek, stir an errant lock of her hair.
She realized his callused fingertip still rested against her lips. She jerked her head away to break the contact, yet her mouth tingled as if rubbed with something spicy. She wanted to move farther from him, but shock paralyzed her.
He touched her jaw, gently forcing her to face him again. “My father was Steve Randolph, the same as Carolyn’s.”
His expression was hard, but paradoxically his touch was almost tender. He said, “I was born in Florida.”
“Florida?” She didn’t understand. “I thought Steve Randolph went to Canada. I never knew he’d married again.”
“He didn’t.” A muscle twitched in Adam’s cheek. “He moved on before I was born. He must have had a habit of moving on.”
Mickey blinked in surprise, yet she felt an unexpected surge of sympathy.
Adam’s upper lip curled slightly. “So if you want to call me a bastard, go ahead. The name fits.”
She tensed. The news that he was Carolyn’s half brother had so stunned her, she’d forgotten the other bombshell he’d dropped. The lease land was his, or so he claimed.
Her sympathy died; suspicion loomed up in its place. She pushed his hand aside and tried to jerk away. But her shoulder blades struck the barrier of the screened windows. He had her cornered.
She jerked her chin up. “How’d you hook up with Enoch? How’d you talk him out of the lease land? Suck up to him?”
His mouth twisted sardonically. “I tried to track down my father. I found out he died in Ontario. That he’d had two brothers. One was dead—”
“—Thom,” Mickey said. She knew the story. Thom, the middle of the three Randolph brothers, had died in Thailand.
Adam cocked his head and leaned nearer. “But my father’s obituary notice said he was survived by a brother in the Caribbean—Enoch. Enoch and I had lived near each other for God knows how long. I looked him up. Last year. Until then, he hadn’t known I existed.”
She used her suspicion militantly, like a protective shield. “United, at last. How touching. And what a nice bonus for you—to learn you had a rich uncle. Or did you know he had property before you found him?”
She wished her heart beat less violently. She wished her flesh didn’t burn where he’d touched her.
His laugh was sarcastic. “I didn’t know about any money or land. He told me that he had land, but I didn’t know how much. I didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell. Until he was dying.”
For some insane reason, she wanted to believe him. A dangerous impulse, she fought it as hard she could. “You went looking for him just because he was your uncle? Not because he was your wealthy uncle?”
“What’s the problem?” He leaned one hand on the window frame next to her and bent nearer still. “The idea of wanting to meet your kin? Is that something ritzy Texans don’t understand?”
Stung, she glared. And his arm, so near, made her feel more trapped than before. “What are you talking about? Say what you mean.”
“I wanted to meet my father’s people. I just wanted to know. That’s all.”
“Know what?” she demanded.
His frown was earnest. “Know about him. His people. My father was a part of me that was missing. I just wanted to understand. You know?”
“No, I don’t,” Mickey flung back. “You’re talking about a man who—who ran out on your mother. Who deserted you before you were born. Whose family never lifted a finger to help you. Why would you want to have anything to do with him or them? It makes no sense to me.”
His eyes narrowed. “You’re calling me a liar?”
She wanted him to be a liar. She wanted it for Carolyn’s sake and her own. If he was an imposter, nothing more than a con artist, they could be rid of him; he would get out of their lives and stay out. He couldn’t hurt Carolyn, and he wouldn’t confuse her so wildly.
She challenged him again. “Why go chasing after Enoch, of all people? I didn’t know him, but—”
“—That’s right. You didn’t. Not at all.”
“—but he’s always sounded like a—a crank. A lazy, antisocial crank. My God, if you wanted to meet somebody in your family, why didn’t you get in touch with Carolyn?”
“I didn’t know she existed. Until Enoch told me.”
“You must not have had a very good detective,” she retorted.
“Steve Randolph covered his tracks well. Nobody in Ontario knew he had children in the States. Carolyn and Pauline didn’t know about me. And I didn’t know about them.”
Mickey was dizzied by hurt and anger. “When you found out about Carolyn, why didn’t you call her then? Why wait until now? It’s only about the land,