So Gavin was in a quandary. What could he do? He liked being rich, and he wanted to continue being rich.
He reached for his shirt, hand-sewn of the finest silk in a rich ivory shade. It complemented beautifully the royal-blue suit he chose from the hundreds of suits in his dressing room. Thank goodness the casino refused to take clothes in payment of debts, he reflected bitterly, or the Count would have left him naked.
A slow smile spread across his face as he met his own gaze in the mirror. Thanks to fate, a wonderful plan had begun to form in Gavin’s mind. When Alaina had come running into his room earlier that day, waving a letter and babbling, something had occurred to Gavin, something that took root in his imagination and was already growing.
He grinned as he recalled reading the letter, and Alaina’s staring at him, wide-eyed, when he burst into laughter.
“Don’t you see what this means?” he’d asked her.
She nodded slowly. “Travis is living in Paris with Kitty. He wants to see Dani, get to know her again.”
Gavin dismissed that with a wave. “Not that, the rest of it. He says he’s planning to remain in Paris indefinitely…” His eyes scanned the letter hungrily. “Here. He says he’s put the silver mine and the ranch in Nevada in her and her brother’s name, equal shares for both.”
He had waved the letter at Alaina in exultation. “This is it! Dani can sell her share to her brother, or to whomever she wants, and we’ll be rich again.”
Alaina reminded him that Dani would, no doubt, have her own ideas about what to do with her property. “She might even want to go back to America and live there,” she added cautiously.
“Well, she’ll quickly get that notion out of her head,” Gavin snapped. “Leave everything to me. And not one word to Dani about this letter, understand?” he warned. Alaina, knowing his temper, nodded. She assured him that, as with all the letters from Travis through the years, she would pretend it had never arrived.
Gavin finished dressing, elation growing as he developed his plan. Not only was he going to be wealthy again, he was also going to hurt Travis Coltrane.
Gavin laughed aloud as he left his room, beautifully attired and charged with new hope.
Making his way through the house, he whistled softly as he glanced about admiringly at the furnishings. Expensive bric-a-brac, valuable paintings, the very best chairs, tables, and rugs. The château was opulent, but Gavin thought of it as a mausoleum. He preferred simplicity, a feeling of space and light, not this musty gloom. No matter. Soon he would have everything his way. He would have money. Coltrane’s money! Ah, revenge was sweet!
Dani’s room was at the end of the hall. He always wished he had her windows, and that sweeping view of the azure Mediterranean below, the waves crashing on the rocks. When they had first moved to the deBonnett château, Dani was more reckless, and even mean and haughty at times. She teased Gavin cruelly about being given the best, biggest, prettiest room, declaring nastily that she was a real member of Alaina’s family, while he was only adopted. He retaliated by threatening to throw her from the window to die on the rocks below and. have her bones picked clean by the crabs and sea gulls. That would send her screaming to Alaina. As the two young people matured, however, Dani mellowed, becoming quiet, even sweet. She changed completely, bewildering Gavin and mystifying Alaina.
Gavin reached her door, but his hand froze before he could knock. There were sounds within. Dani was not alone. Pressing his ear against the smooth mahogany door, he recognized the other voice. It was Briana de Paul’s. She had a low, warm, husky voice and only a trace of a French accent, due to Dani’s tutoring over the years. Briana’s mother was long dead, and her father, the Count’s caretaker, had died a few years ago. She and Dani were like sisters.
The beautiful French girl looked very much like Dani, in fact. Her coloring was similar to Dani’s, but where Dani’s brown eyes were warm, Briana’s glowed with the fires of expensive brandy held to a flame. She had a temper to match, Gavin knew, remembering her fiery reactions whenever he patted her nicely rounded bottom as she passed or brushed against her large, luscious breasts. Briana had told Gavin bluntly that she loathed him, but he wasn’t the least put off, knowing she would change her mind once he truly controlled things. After all, with her father dead, she had to support that crippled brother of hers. She desperately needed the maid’s job Alaina had given her, and she would find out when Gavin was in charge that in order to keep that job, she would have some very special “duties” to perform.
He could not make out what the two were saying, for they spoke in low voices, but they sounded quite intense, so he leaned closer, curious.
Suddenly the door jerked open. Briana, carrying a tray, ran right into him and a glass of orange juice splattered messily down the front of his shirt and coat.
“Serves you right for eavesdropping,” she said coldly before continuing on her way.
He watched her bottom moving provocatively as she walked down the hall. Soon, he vowed silently, soon those ripe hips would move beneath him, at his command, and the words from her lovely lips would be sweet and cajoling, not cold.
“Gavin?”
He turned away from Briana and entered the room. Dani was seated before the window. Beyond her, the Mediterranean glistened and sparkled with turquoise and blue lights in the late-afternoon sun.
Dani was wearing a simple white muslin dress, and as he seated himself in the wing chair opposite hers, he thought how angelic she appeared, how calm and serene. Lately, he mused, Dani was too quiet. She had withdrawn into herself, and spent more and more time in her room alone, reading. When she did go out, it was to attend Mass or visit with either the nuns or the parish priest.
Some years ago, she had embraced the Catholic faith and, much to his and Alaina’s distress, become almost fanatical in her beliefs. Alaina had confessed her horror of the situation, and Gavin heartily agreed. Neither of them, however, had been able to dissuade Dani from her convictions.
He withdrew a linen handkerchief from inside his coat and irritably began to dab at the orange juice staining his clothing. “That clumsy girl,” he grumbled. “It’s time she learned her place. She’s a servant in this household—nothing more. I’m damned tired of her insolence.”
Dani ignored that. “I’m glad to see you, Gavin. I’ve been wanting to talk to you,” she said softly, and something in her voice caused him to look up sharply. He noticed the Catholic missal she held so lovingly.
“You spend so much time at your church that neither Alaina nor I see you anymore. You’ve even been taking your meals in here. I don’t like it, Dani. I miss you.”
She looked blissful, and he became alarmed. “I’ve had a lot on my mind lately. There was a decision to be made, one that required much contemplation and prayer. I’ve made the decision, and now it’s time for you and Aunt Alaina to know what it is I’ve decided.”
Uppermost in Gavin’s mind was the Coltrane fortune, and he waved his hand impatiently. “Later. We’ve something important to talk about, Dani. Listen to me.”
“This is more important,” she protested, leaning forward, wanting him to understand the importance of each word.
“It’s my whole life, Gavin, and—”
“My dear,” he interrupted, smiling as he removed the book from her hands and held them tightly. Something told him he had to stop her from saying any more. He let the words out in a torrent. “I want to marry you, Dani. I’ve loved you for a long, long time. I never knew how much until you began to spend so much time alone. I was so worried because I thought you might have met someone else, but I followed you and found out you were just spending time at the church.
“We have to make plans,” he continued determinedly, ignoring her shocked expression. She struggled to withdraw her hands from his, but he wouldn’t let go. Her eyes were wide with—what? Fear? Revulsion? He felt a flash of annoyance, but told himself it didn’t matter a damn bit. Theirs would be a marriage of convenience—the convenie
nce of making him rich. It didn’t make any difference to him whether she loved him or not.
“Surely you know how I feel about you, Dani. I know we grew up like brother and sister, but I always felt more for you. I want us to be married at once! Then we’re going to America, to Nevada, to claim what’s rightfully yours and—”
“Gavin, stop it!” she screamed, and the sound echoed through the large room, muffled neither by the pink satin-covered walls nor the thick white brocade draperies.
Shocked by her desperate scream, he stared at her in silence.
Dani withdrew her hands from his and leaned back in her chair, contemplating him. What on Earth had brought about such craziness? Why, when they were growing up, Gavin had barely tolerated her. He was terribly difficult to get along with—insolent and spoiled. He’d never seemed to like anyone, so the idea that he could love anyone was absurd.
Gently, meaning not to hurt him, Dani said, “You don’t mean what you were saying, Gavin. We’ll just forget this.”
“No!” He rose quickly and began pacing the room in frustration. He’d had sense enough to know that she was not going to say yes right away, that he’d have to maneuver her into seeing things his way, but he had not expected such a totally negative response.
He could not tell her about the letter from her father, explaining that she could claim her inheritance. If she knew about that, she’d know why he had proposed to her.
He went and knelt on one knee before her, pretending not to notice when she shrank away. “Look around you,” he said quietly, indicating the room. “Beautiful, isn’t it? All the luxury money can buy. This is the way you deserve to live, Dani, like the princess you are. But it isn’t going to stay this way if you don’t marry me and let me take care of you. You know Claude left Alaina in extreme financial difficulty, but I’m willing to work hard to take care of us all.”
Dani shook her head. If only he would listen to what she wanted to tell him.
“Marry me,” he said, so urgently that his whole body trembled. “Marry me, Dani. We’ll go to America and claim what’s rightfully yours. I’ll work on your father’s ranch like a common hired hand, if need be. Just let me take care of you. I love you.”
He reached for her, and she cried, “Gavin, no! I don’t want to marry you. I’m not going to marry anyone.”
“You might not love me now, but I’ll make you love—”
“No!” Touching the crucifix she wore around her neck, she stood up and moved away from him. “This is all I love, Gavin, all I need. Nothing else matters to me anymore.”
Gavin had no idea what she was talking about. He knew only that she was being obstinate. He rose from his knees, straightened his coat, pushed back the ever tumbling curls from his forehead, and said with finality, “We’ll talk more about it at dinner. This has come as a shock to you, I understand, but when you think about it, you will see it is the only sensible solution to everything.”
Dani stayed by the window where she was, and she put as much emphasis into her voice as she could. “I will not marry you, Gavin. I will never marry. There is nothing to discuss, except—” She stopped, realizing that he wasn’t listening to her.
He walked to the door, pausing to say firmly, “We’ll make our plans tonight. A small wedding, and we can honeymoon in America.”
He closed the door behind him, taking several deep breaths to quell his anger. Damn her, she was going to marry him. There was no other way.
As he strode down the hallway, a movement caught his eye, and he saw Briana slipping into a room farther down the hall. He followed her swiftly, wondering whether she had eavesdropped on his conversation with Dani. His eyes flicked over her body. Her high, firm breasts strained against the clinging peasant blouse, and he licked his lips in delightful anticipation.
When he reached the room she’d entered, he went in without hesitation, shut the door, and started toward her.
Briana didn’t back away. She stood her ground, dust cloth in hand, and warned, “Keep away from me, Gavin. I’m sick of your grabbing.”
He smiled lasciviously. “I’m lord of this household now, and if you want to keep working here, you will learn to serve me…and serve me well.”
“I won’t be working here, if that’s the case,” she responded matter-of-factly.
“And how will you support your poor little brother?” he taunted, oblivious to the shadow of pain in her eyes. “He’ll never be able to support himself, you know, the crippled, twisted—”
“You’re disgusting,” she erupted, furious. “How dare you talk about Charles that way? Now get out of here and let me finish cleaning.”
He took a step forward, and Briana grabbed the first thing that came to hand, a heavy brass candlestick from the bedside table. She held it menacingly, eyes cold and unwavering, and he paused, deciding she was, indeed, capable of hurting him. “You will rue the day you lifted a hand to me, you bitch,” he growled. Then he turned and left the room, slamming the door so hard that the paintings hanging in the hallway shook. Seeing them shake mollified him somewhat.
Briana sighed and put the candlestick back where it belonged. A tremor went through her as she realized she might have killed him. By God, she’d have done it if she’d had to. She loathed Gavin Mason. He was arrogant, spoiled, evil. She would not tolerate his brazen fondling of her any longer…even if that meant having to find another job to support herself and Charles.
Charles.
Tears of sorrow and love welled in her eyes. She had cared for her brother since his birth. Charles was ten years old, nine years younger than she. His poor little body was twisted and gnarled, his legs useless. He could crawl around on the floor, supporting or dragging himself with his arms, but had to be lifted up and down from chairs and bed. When Charles was six, their father had somehow gotten together enough money for a train trip to Paris, where doctors examined Charles and said there was nothing to be done for him. One of the doctors had predicted, horrifying Briana’s father, that as Charles grew older and larger, there would be increasing pressure on his spine, which would possibly interfere with his circulation…and then kill him. An operation might help, they said, but they knew so little about conditions like Charles’s that any attempt at surgery would be strictly experimental and very dangerous. And, of course, very expensive.
There was no money for anything like that, even if they’d wanted to take the risk. They had barely existed on what their father earned as caretaker of the deBonnett estate, and the largest benefit wasn’t money at all, but the tiny house on the grounds of the estate where they were allowed to live without having to pay any rent. Since their father’s death last year, Briana had been afraid they’d be asked to leave the cottage.
Briana was desolate. What did the future hold for her now? She was going to lose her dearest friend, Dani, and when Dani went away, Briana would be utterly alone. Worse, there was no way she could remain in that household after Dani left. Alaina had a terrible temper, and Gavin would only become more intolerable. She felt like weeping whenever she looked around the worn little two-room cottage. It was all the home she’d ever had. Did she really have to leave it? She guessed she would, sooner or later.
And where would she, a single female with a crippled ten-year-old brother, be able to go?
She reflected miserably that she had no money. Alaina gave her food and a pittance. And there were no other jobs in the area that would pay her even that. She could not care for herself and Charles.
Sitting disconsolately in that room, she realized slowly that there might not be a choice. She might have to yield to Gavin’s demands. If there were only herself to consider, she knew she would rather starve. But Charles had no one else. Dear Lord, without her, Charles would be forced to beg for food, and would probably die.
No. She stood up angrily and flicked the dust cloth across the heavy mahogany furniture. She could not let Charles beg. Other women supported themselves by becoming prostitutes, and if she had to, then so
be it. Besides, wasn’t there more honor in submitting to one man than in bedding many? Gavin would take care of her, and she would take care of Charles. She could stand Gavin’s cruelty, and Alaina’s, if it meant a decent life for her little brother.
Tears began. Were it not for Charles, she knew she would die before giving herself to a man for any reason other than love. But fate, Briana had learned long ago, dictates a person’s morality.
She paused and looked wistfully out the window to the sea, where late-afternoon sunlight rippled through the cobalt waters. The surface danced with diamonds of sparkling light. For her, she mused, the sun was truly setting.
Chapter Three
Silver Butte, Nevada
July, 1889
Colt sat behind the large mahogany desk, gazing balefully at all the papers in front of him. His mother had always taken care of Coltrane business matters. His father hated what he called “inside chores”. Colt concurred. He’d much rather have been outdoors, doing nearly anything else.
He reached for the bottle of brandy and poured another glass, reminding himself that these chores were his now—along with every other Coltrane responsibility, now that his parents had left for France.
He sipped the brandy and looked around the study. The rest of the two-story house reflected his mother’s taste, but the study was strictly his father’s. It was filled with comfortable sofas and chairs, plain draperies at the long windows, and floor-to-ceiling bookshelves filled with Travis’s war memorabilia. A stone fireplace ran the entire length of one wall.
There were trophies mounted here and there, souvenirs of many hunting trips. Colt’s mother had hated those, he recalled. She said every time she walked into the study she felt the sad, forlorn eyes of the deer looking directly at her for sympathy.
He leaned back in the soft leather chair and propped his booted feet on the desk. He’d spent a long day riding the range that bordered the Carson River. He was tired, and after eating the dinner the Mexican cook had prepared for him, would have liked nothing better than to go to bed, but the blasted paperwork awaited him. He’d been putting it off for as long as possible, but it wouldn’t go away.
Love and Fury: The Coltrane Saga, Book 4 Page 3
