Tears of the Renegade. Linda Howard
Читать онлайн книгу.
himself at the formal furniture, the original oil paintings, the priceless vases and miniatures that adorned the shelves. Though called a library, the room actually contained few books, and all of them had been bought, Susan sometimes suspected, with an eye on the color of the dust jackets to make certain the books harmonized with the color scheme of the room.
Preston eyed his cousin with cold, silent hatred for a moment, an expanse of time which became heavy with resentment. “How much will it cost us?”
From the corner of her eye, Susan could see the lift of that mocking eyebrow. “Cost you for what?”
“For you to leave this part of the country again.”
Cord smiled, a particularly wolfish smile that should have warned Preston. “You don’t have enough money, Cousin.”
Imogene lifted her hand, forestalling Preston’s heated reply. She had a cooler head and was better at negotiating than her son was. “Don’t be foolish…or hasty,” she counseled. “You do realize that we’re prepared to offer you a substantial sum in exchange for your absence?”
“Not interested,” he said lazily, still smiling.
“But a man with your…lifestyle must have debts that need settling. Then there’s the fact that I have many friends who owe me for favors, and who could be counted on to make your stay unpleasant, at the least.”
“Oh, I don’t think so, Aunt Imogene.” Cord was utterly relaxed, his long legs stretched out before him. “The first surprise in store for you is that I don’t need the money. The second is that if any of your ‘friends’ decide to help you by making things difficult for me, I have friends of my own who I can call on, and believe me, my friends make yours look like angels.”
Imogene sniffed. “I’m sure they do, considering.”
For the first time Susan felt compelled to intervene. Fighting upset her; she was quiet and naturally peaceful, but with an inner strength that allowed her to throw herself into the breach. Her gentle voice immediately drew everyone’s attention, though it was to her mother-in-law that she spoke. “Imogene, look at him; look at his clothes.” She waved her slender hand to indicate the man lounging beside her. “He’s telling the truth. He doesn’t need any money. And I think that when he mentions his friends, he isn’t talking about back-alley buddies.”
Cord regarded her with open, if somewhat mocking, admiration. “At last, a Blackstone with perception, though of course you weren’t born to the name, so maybe that explains it. She’s right, Imogene, though I’m sure you don’t like hearing it. I don’t need the Blackstone money because I have money of my own. I plan to live in the cabin because I like my privacy, not because I can’t afford any better. Now, I suggest that we manage to control our differences, because I intend to stay here. If you want to air the family dirty laundry, then go ahead. It won’t bother me; you’ll be the only one to suffer from that.”
Imogene gave a curious little sigh. “You’ve always been difficult, Cord, even when you were a child. My objection to you is based on your past actions, not on you personally. You’ve dragged your family through enough mud to last for four lifetimes, and I find that hard to forgive, and I find it equally as hard to trust you to behave with some degree of civility.”
“It’s been a long time,” he said obliquely. “I’ve spent a lot of time in Europe, and too long in South America; it makes a man appreciate his home.”
“Does it? I wonder. Forgive me if I suspect an ulterior motive, but then, your past gives me little choice. Very well, we’ll call a truce…for the time being.”
“A truce.” He winked at her, and to Susan’s surprise, Imogene blushed. So he had that effect on every female! But he was a fool if he believed that Imogene would go along with a truce. She might appear to give in, but that was all it was: appearance. Imogene never gave in; she merely changed tactics. If she couldn’t bribe or threaten him, then she would try other measures, though for the moment Susan couldn’t think of anything else that could be brought to bear on the man.
He was rising to his feet, his hand under Susan’s elbow, urging her up also. “You’ve been away from your guests long enough,” he told Imogene politely. “I give you my solemn promise that I won’t cause any scandals tonight, so relax and enjoy yourself.” Pulling Susan along with him like a puppy, he crossed the floor to Imogene and bent down to kiss his aunt. Imogene sat perfectly still under the touch of his lips, though her color rose even higher. Then he straightened, his eyes dancing. “Come along, Susan,” he commanded.
“Just a moment,” Preston intervened, stepping before them. Imogene might have called a truce, but Preston hadn’t. “We’ve agreed to no open hostilities; we haven’t agreed to associate with you. Susan isn’t going anywhere with you.”
“Oh? I think that’s up to the lady. Susan?” Cord turned to her, making his wishes known by the curl of his fingers on her arm.
Susan hesitated. She wanted to go with Cord. She wanted to laugh with him, to see the wicked twinkle in his eyes, feel the magic of being held in his arms. But she couldn’t trust him, and for the first time in her life, she didn’t trust herself. Because she wanted so badly to go with him, she had to deny him. Slowly, regretfully, she shook her head. “No. I think it would be better if I didn’t go with you.”
His blue eyes narrowed, and suddenly they were no longer laughing, but wore the sheen of anger. He dropped his hand from her arm. “Perhaps you’re right,” he said coldly, and left her without another word.
The silence in the library was total, the three occupants motionless. Then Imogene sighed again. “Thank heavens you didn’t go with him, dear. He’s charming, I know, but beneath all of that charm, he hates this entire family. He’ll do anything, anything, he can to harm us. You don’t know him, but it’s in your best interest if you avoid him.” Having delivered her graceful warning, Imogene shrugged. “Ah, well, I suppose we’ll have to suffer through this until he gets bored and drifts off to hunt other amusements. He was right about one thing, the wretch; I do have to get back to my guests.” She rose and left the room, her mist-gray gown swaying elegantly about her feet as she walked. Imogene was still a beautiful woman; she hardly looked old enough to be the mother of the man who stood beside Susan. Imogene didn’t age; she endured.
After a moment, Preston took Susan’s hand, his ingrained sense of courtesy taking control of him again. His confrontation with his cousin had been the only occasion when Susan could remember seeing Preston be anything but polite, even when he was disagreeing with someone. “Let’s relax for a moment before we rejoin them. Would you like a drink?” he suggested.
“No, thank you.” Susan allowed him to seat her on the love seat again, and she watched as he poured himself a neat whiskey and sat down beside her, a small frown puckering his brow as he regarded the glass in his hand. Something was on his mind; she knew his mannerisms as well as she knew her own. She waited, not pushing him. She and Preston had become close since Vance’s death, and she felt strongly affectionate toward him. He looked so much like Vance, so much like all the Blackstones, with his dark hair and blue eyes and lopsided smile. Preston lacked Vance’s sense of humor, but he was a formidable opponent in business. He was stubborn; slower than Vance to react, but more determined when he did.
“You’re a lovely woman, Susan,” he said abruptly.
Startled, she stared at him. She knew she looked good tonight; she had debated over wearing the cream silk dress, for her tastes since Vance’s death had been somber, but she had remembered that the medieval color of mourning had been white, not black, and only she knew when she put on the white dress that she did so with a small but poignant remnant of grief. She had dressed for Vance tonight, wearing the pearls that he had given her, spraying herself with his favorite perfume. But for a few mad moments she had gloried in the knowledge that she looked good, not for Vance’s sake, but because of the admiration she had seen in another pair of eyes, strange lodestone eyes. What would have happened if she had gone with Cord Blackstone tonight, instead of playing it safe?
Preston’s