by Nan Ryan
Anna smiled, extended her hand. Buck nervously wiped his own on his trouser leg before eagerly shaking hers.
“A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Shanahan,” she said.
“Call me Buck, Miss Anna.” Continuing to hold her hand, he grinned down at her and said, “Boy howdy, Brit told me you were awful pretty, but I had no idea you’d look like…like an angel.”
Anna calmly withdrew her hand from his. “I’m no angel, Buck. Just a woman grateful to be back home after all these years—” she glanced at Brit, adding pointedly “—where I belong.”
“Yes, ma’am, ah…I mean yes, Miss Anna,” said Buck. “Miz LaDextra and all of us are mighty glad to have you home. Aren’t we, Brit?”
“Ecstatic.”
At midmorning LaDextra showed Anna throughout the sprawling mansion. They chattered companionably as they moved from room to room, LaDextra reminiscing, telling Anna that when they’d been young, she and her husband had wanted lots of children and were beginning to think that the good Lord was never going to bless them with a child.
“Why, honey, I was thirty-six years old when your mother, Christina, was born. Robert and I had just about given up. After she came, we kept trying for a boy, but…” She shrugged. “Christina was my only child and very precious because of it. Just as you are very precious because you’re Christina’s only child. My only grandchild.”
Nodding, listening, Anna waited for an opportune moment, then said as casually as possible, “Tell me about Brit Caruth. Christina, my mother, was married to his father?”
“She was. Yes, she was. A year after you were captured and your daddy killed by the Apache, Christina met and married Douglas Caruth. He was a fine man, a widower, and he had a twelve-year-old boy, Brit. Brit stayed here with me while Douglas and Christina went on an extended honeymoon.” LaDextra exhaled heavily. “Both were killed in an avalanche. Buried so deep in the snow their bodies were never recovered.”
“I’m sorry, LaDextra,” offered Anna.
“Well, it was a long time ago. I’ve done my share of grieving.” She smiled wistfully and said, “Anyhow, poor little Brit was left an orphan. His father had been his only family. He had nowhere to go. So Brit had no choice but to stay on here at the ranch, and I had no choice but to keep him.” Her blue eyes began to sparkle as she talked about the handsome young man she considered a grandson. “Those first few years were rocky, but I was crazy about the little scamp from the beginning, and I took good care of him.” She laughed with pleasure and said, “Now Brit’s grown and he takes good care of me. Runs the ranch better than your granddaddy—rest his soul—ever did. Brit’s smart, industrious and as loyal as they come.”
“He seems to be a nice man,” said Anna, almost choking on the words.
“I’m betting that you and Brit are going to like each other, that you become good friends,” said LaDextra, hoping it was so. “I think the two of you will get along just fine, don’t you?”
“I’m sure of it,” said Anna with a sweet smile.
The two women swept on through the mansion, LaDextra introducing Anna to the house servants, hoping to spark a glimmer of recognition in the girl’s eyes. Or in the eyes of the servants.
Directly after lunch, LaDextra summoned her personal maid, Connie. When the stocky, middle-aged servant appeared, LaDextra said, “Connie, I thought that while I have my nap you could assist Anna with her unpacking.”
Connie nodded. “I’d be more than happy to help,” she said. She glanced at Anna and smiled. “I’ll get LaDextra settled in her bed, then be right up to your room.”
“Thank you, Connie,” said Anna, feeling suddenly uneasy. She suspected that the loyal servant would, once the two of them were alone, ask countless questions.
She was right.
As the two women worked together, shaking out the wrinkled dresses and hanging them up, Connie relentlessly quizzed Anna. Throughout, Anna managed to remain calm and collected. She had the answers to some of Connie’s questions. To others, she freely admitted that she could not recall, did not remember.
As the seemingly casual, but intense interrogation continued, Anna knew she hadn’t convinced Connie. Still, she managed to keep a firm grip on herself, to smile and nod and act as if she were not the least bit flustered.
Coolly replying to yet another of Connie’s questions, Anna turned and carried an armful of lingerie to the bureau. At the same time, Connie lifted a lilac summer dress from the open leather valise.
A small, curious-looking bundle tumbled out of the skirt’s folds and fell to the carpeted floor. Puzzled, Connie laid the dress on the bed, stooped and picked up the bundle.
“What’s this?”
Anna turned, saw what Connie was holding. Her composure shattering, she flew across the room in a panic.
“It’s mine, give it to me!”
“Well, certainly,” said Connie, eyeing her suspiciously as she handed it over. “I just wondered what—”
“It’s nothing, nothing,” said Anna, clutching the bundle, “just some silly sentimental keepsakes.”
She could hardly breathe, she was so upset. If Connie had opened the bundle, had seen the locket with the inscription “M.S.H.,” she would have immediately told LaDextra, “this girl is not Anna.”
Connie never saw the damning necklace, but she didn’t believe that this young woman was Anna.
On the other hand, Maggie Mae, the head cook at the ranch for the past three decades, was certain that the beautiful girl was Anna, now all grown-up. When Anna came into the kitchen later that afternoon, Maggie Mae said, “Honey, sit down there at the table and tell me what your favorite foods are.”
Anna didn’t hesitate. Smiling, she said, “Rare steak, of course.”
“Of course,” Maggie Mae repeated, nodding.
“And, um, let’s see. Fried chicken. Baked ham. Potato salad.” She tilted her blond head to the side and her blue eyes began to sparkle. “Oh, and blackberry cobbler with thick cream. And chocolate cake with rich fudge icing. Hot apple pie with melted cheese. Strawberry shortcake with ice cream and…and—”
“Honey, you haven’t changed a bit,” a laughing Maggie Mae interrupted. “Still have that sweet tooth!”
“I’m afraid I do,” admitted Anna.
“Well, I’m going to bake you a big old chocolate cake for supper, that’s what I’m going to do!”
“My mouth’s already watering,” said Anna with a smile.
When, shortly, LaDextra entered the kitchen and asked Anna if she’d like to join her for a cup of tea on the back patio, Anna left the cook beaming.
And certain that she was Anna.
Later that same afternoon, a visitor came to The Regent.
Unaware that LaDextra was entertaining an old friend, Anna came bounding into the drawing room and stopped short when she spotted a very frail, gray-haired woman seated on one of the velvet sofas.
As if she felt Anna’s eyes on her, the aged woman slowly raised her head, turned it and looked directly at Anna. Anna stared, her lips open.
LaDextra looked from one to the other and said to Anna, “What is it, child?”
Anna didn’t answer. Instead she walked into the room, smiled warmly at the old woman and said, “Mein Liebling.”
Tears sprang to the eyes of the visitor and she struggled to rise. Anna was beside her in an instant, urging her to remain seated. Dropping to her knees beside the sofa, she firmly clasped the bony hand reaching for hers and laughed merrily when the woman repeated in her native tongue, “Mein Liebling, Anna.”
“Yes, Helga, it’s Anna. I’ve come home.”
LaDextra, looking on in surprised delight, fondly recalled how Helga, Anna’s German nanny, had always called the child “Mein Liebling, Anna.” “My darling Anna.”
And Anna had remembered! She had remembered after all these years. She was Anna, she was!
As Anna knelt and talked with the woman, neither LaDextra nor Helga could possibly have known how surprised she herself was that t
hose words had come out of her mouth. Where had she learned any German? How did she know that this was what Helga had called Anna? How did she know the woman’s name was Helga?
Was she, perhaps, really Anna Regent Wright?
In no time the household staff was firmly divided into two camps—those who believed and those who did not. Anna often confounded both sides. She couldn’t remember things she should have easily recalled. Then she’d turn around and reveal something that only the Regent girl, or someone very close to her, could have known.
One member of the household was not so easily swayed by Anna’s impressive flashes of recollection. There was no doubt in Brit’s mind that she was an imposter. A pretender who had studied and learned all that she could about the Regent family. A dangerous dissembler spurred by greed.
Brit strongly suspected that she had a partner in crime. Perhaps someone who had worked at the ranch and knew the family. Probably a lazy lover who meant to cash in on the windfall. Only there wasn’t going to be any windfall.
Not for her.
Not if he could help it.
Brit shoved the brief message addressed to the Pinkerton Detective Agency through the window of the wired cage at the telegraph office. “Dub, can you get this wire out in the next hour or so?”
“Is it important?” the balding operator asked.
“Only to me.”
Six
Soon the strain of her ordeal began to wear on Anna. Ever fearful of giving herself away, feeling as if she was eternally on trial, she found her nerves beginning to fray. She had trouble sleeping.
After a full week at the ranch, during which she had been watched and questioned and checked on, she was so on edge she simply couldn’t relax. Unable to face another night of restlessness, Anna finally slipped out of bed and drew on a silk robe, leaving it untied.
She crossed the darkened room, walked through the open French doors and stepped out onto the wide balcony.
And stopped abruptly.
Shirtless, shoeless, his black hair disheveled, his tanned shoulders and chest gleaming in the moonlight, Brit Caruth sat astride the balcony railing, smoking a cigar. He turned and looked at her, and Anna involuntarily shivered.
Brit took a long, slow drag from his cigar, then flicked it away. Anna tensed. Her pulse leaped. Her knees grew weak. Brit brought his long leg back inside the railing, pushed himself to his bare feet and came directly to her.
Anna couldn’t breathe. She knew he was going to kiss her, but she didn’t try to stop him. She was—and had been from the first moment she saw him—extremely curious. She wondered how it would feel to be kissed by this handsome, hard-faced man.
Brit stood directly before her, the width of his shoulders blocking out the moonlight. He smiled, and his teeth shone starkly white in his tanned face. Heat radiated from him, and Anna felt as if his tall lean body was one giant magnet. He was drawing her to him without even touching her. She felt herself helplessly swaying closer.
Brit’s long, leanly muscled arms went around her and he drew her up on tiptoe. His dark eyes flashed in the shadowy light as he gazed pointedly at her parted, trembling lips. His eyes slowly lifted to meet hers, and for a long, tension-filled moment they stared at each other without blinking.
Then his long thick lashes began to leisurely lower as he bent his dark head to kiss her. All at once his mouth was on hers, warm and smooth and persuasive. Her response was automatic, as natural and as necessary as breathing.
With her arms hanging limp at her sides, her head thrown back, Anna stood there in the pale spring moonlight, pressed flush against this hard-muscled Texan, futilely demanding her wildly beating heart to slow its rapid cadence. Ordering herself to tear her seared lips from his scorching mouth. Commanding herself to pull away from the fierce heat of his lean, lanky body.
But she did nothing.
Brit’s hands were inside her open robe. Gently he stroked her slender back through the thin fabric of her nightgown as his coaxing mouth molded her lips to fit perfectly against his. She offered no objections, so he deepened the kiss, his sleek tongue sliding inside her mouth. He allowed his warm, caressing hand to glide down over the swell of her hip and beyond.
Still she didn’t stop him.
Couldn’t stop him.
Didn’t want to stop him.
And Brit knew it.
It was he who finally ended the heated embrace, abruptly releasing her. Anna immediately stepped back and struggled to gather her scattered wits. Trembling, longing for more of his devastating kisses, she futilely fought the frightening passion he had aroused in her.
Determined to conceal the weakness she felt, she said in a brittle tone, “Just what do you think you are doing?”
Brit smiled devilishly, laid a spread hand on his dark, hair-covered chest and let it slowly drift down his bare belly into the low-riding waistband of his faded Levi’s.
“Why, welcoming the young mistress back to her ancestral home.”
Instantly angry with him, and even angrier with herself for allowing him to hold her and kiss her, Anna said, “Don’t ever do that—kiss me—again!”
His infuriating smile still firmly in place, he said, “Now, now, little sister, is that any way to speak to your big brother?”
“You are not my big brother,” she hotly declared.
Brit’s smile vanished instantly.
“That’s right, baby, I’m not,” he said, his chiseled features set, his dark eyes gone cold. He reached out, took her arm, drew her close again and added, “Nor are you kin to that old woman asleep downstairs.” Anna tried to pull away. He held her fast. “I don’t know who you are, but I do know you are not LaDextra’s granddaughter. And if you think I’ll stand idly by and allow you to get away with this deception, you’re very wrong.”
Anna yanked free of his grasp and warned, “You stay away from me, Brit Caruth!”
She rushed back inside and slammed the double doors behind her. She leaned back against them, trembling, afraid, upset. Anna now knew for certain that what she had suspected from the start was true. He didn’t believe her. She wasn’t safe at The Regent.
This lusty man who lived under the same roof and was adored by LaDextra was intent not only in exposing Anna, but in seducing her. She wasn’t quite sure of his motive for the latter. Perhaps it was simply strong physical attraction. Or maybe he wanted to show her that she was not only an imposter, but a common tramp as well.
Her anger flared anew. Her determination strengthened. She stalked to the bed, tore off the robe and vowed aloud, “You will never expose or seduce me, Britton Caruth!”
She had momentarily forgotten that Brit was still right outside on the balcony. Through the open windows he heard her impassioned oath.
Without sound, he mouthed a response. “You’re wrong, baby. I’m gonna do both.”
As vast as the Regent ranch was, it was too small for the both of them. Torn between not wanting to see Brit and wanting to see Brit, Anna was soon to learn that avoiding him entirely would be next to impossible.
Just two days after the unforgettable kiss, LaDextra asked Anna if she would like to take a ride, see some of the ranch.
“Oh, yes.” Anna jumped at the chance. “I would love that.”
“Good. Brit will meet you here at—”
“Brit? I’m to ride with Brit? I thought…”
“What? That I’d let you ride out alone?” LaDextra shook her white head. “I just got you back, Anna. I’m not going to lose you again.”
Anna thought fast. “But surely Brit is far too busy to bother with me. I’ll just wait until some other—”
“Nonsense,” interrupted LaDextra. “You’re forgetting that Brit’s the boss. He can take off a couple of hours if he wants to.”
“What if he doesn’t want to take me riding?” Anna queried.
LaDextra smiled. “He does. I’ve already asked him. He said he’d be glad to show you around. Told me he’d come up to the house to get yo
u at two o’clock sharp.”
Anna was trapped. “All right.”
At five minutes past two, Anna, dressed in a white silk, long-sleeved blouse, soft suede riding pants and shiny brown boots, stepped out onto the back gallery. Her long blond hair was twisted into a thick shiny rope and pinned atop her head, but a purposely loosened lock swirled down her right cheek, concealing the ugly black tattoo behind her ear. A rust-colored, flat-crowned hat swung from her hand by its braided drawstring.
Anna was not smiling.
The prospect of riding out to the far reaches of this huge rangeland with the tormenting Brit Caruth was not her idea of a pleasant way to spend an afternoon. If she could have thought of a reasonable excuse to get out of it, she would have used it.
“If you’re not careful,” drawled a flat masculine voice, “your face will freeze that way.”
Anna looked up.
Brit was standing just outside the manicured backyard. Arms crossed, he was leaning back against the hitch rail where his stallion and a white-faced sorrel mare with stocking feet were tied. He was rawly masculine and undeniably attractive in a sky-blue pullover yoked shirt, tight faded Levi’s, tan shotgun chaps and black cowboy boots. He was smiling as if pleased with himself.
Anna wanted to slap his smug, handsome face.
She took a deep, spine-stiffening breath and went to meet him. Brit continued to stand there unmoving, with his arms crossed over his chest, his slim hips resting against the hitch rail.
As she approached, he felt his heart skip a beat. She walked with a graceful, confident stride, and her suede trousers definitely enhanced her small waist, flat stomach, flaring hips and long shapely legs. Beneath the soft fabric of her blouse, her full, high breasts bounced provocatively.
Brit felt his mouth go dry.
Felt his groin involuntarily stir.
Anna reached him. She slammed her suede hat on her head, tightened the drawstring beneath her chin.
Her hands then went to her trousered hips and she said, “It really isn’t necessary for you to ride with me. I am perfectly capable of—of…” Brit stepped forward, put his hands to her waist. She clawed at his fingers. “What in blazes are you doing?”
