Winter Bride: A Loveswept Classic Romance

by Iris Johansen

  Ysabel was forcing herself to sit quietly in the Queen Anne chair beside her bed when Jed walked in on her the following day at two o’clock in the morning. She tensed, her hands nervously grasping the arms of the chair. She had been mentally preparing herself all day for this interview, but his presence instantly blasted all her plans to the four winds.

  He was again dressed casually in jeans and a dark green crew neck sweater that made his hair gleam like polished pewter. And he was clearly in no better humor than when he had left her the previous night.

  He paused inside the door, his gaze raking over her. “Good God, don’t you have anything else to wear that doesn’t come out of Camelot?”

  Ysabel looked down at her midnight-blue velvet gown that differed only in color from the ivory-colored one she had worn before. “No.”

  “There’s got to be something.” He strode over to the closet and searched through the garments hanging in there. “I can’t believe this. They’re all alike.”

  “I told you.”

  “You dressed like this for him all the time?”

  “It’s what he wanted.”

  “And you always gave him exactly what he wanted.”

  “Yes.”

  “Didn’t you look a bit weird when you paid a visit to the local supermarket?”

  “I didn’t go to town much. I have a few day dresses. They’re at the back.”

  He flipped through the clothes until he found them. “Same style, shorter length.”

  “It’s what he wanted,” she repeated. She clasped her hands tightly on her lap. “If you’re through prying, can we get on with our discussion?”

  “By all means.” He shut the closet door and leaned back against it. “Townsend said you wanted a favor.”

  “Actually, more of a bargain than a favor. I’m willing to compensate you.”

  “And you have the means to do it now. Camelot pays very well, doesn’t it?”

  Her hands tightened in her lap. “Yes, very well. May I go on?” She didn’t wait for a replay. “Due to your profession you have many contacts in Latin America. Two years ago you did a three-part story on the dictatorship in San Miguel.”

  “So?”

  “It was exceptionally in-depth, so in-depth it angered General Marino enough to cause him to expel you from the country. To obtain that kind of information you must have had very well-placed sources.”

  He gazed at her, waiting.

  “I left something behind when I married Arnold and came here. I want you to help me get it back.”

  “What?”

  She glanced away from him. “Something very valuable to me.”

  “And you’re not going to tell me what it is? How do you expect me to locate this mysterious object?”

  “I’ll tell you what it is after we’ve arrived in San Miguel.”

  He went still “You want me to actually take you to San Miguel?”

  “It’s necessary. Your contacts may not be able to find it without help. I know General Marino was upset about the story you did but—”

  “I had to hide out in the jungle for two days while Marino’s elite guard searched for me before I made my rendezvous with the cruiser that took me off the island. Marino threatened to stake me to an anthill if I ever showed my face in San Miguel again.”

  “This would be different. You might not even have to be in touch with anyone in the government.”

  “Might not? That’s a little too vague for my peace of mind.”

  “I can’t promise you that it won’t be dangerous, but I’ll do everything possible to make sure you’re not hurt,” she said earnestly.

  His brows raised. “You’re supposed to protect me?”

  “Yes, I’ll protect you.”

  He started to chuckle and then stopped as he saw her grave expression. “I prefer to protect myself and fervently believe in caution over valor.”

  “The danger didn’t seem to bother you in San Miguel.”

  “It bothered me. I’m no fool and I like living as well as the next man.”

  “But your story was worth the risk?”

  “It must have been or I wouldn’t have hung on until I got it.”

  A thoughtful frown knitted her brow. “Then all I have to do is to offer you something worth your trouble.”

  “All?”

  “Mr. Townsend said you had something in mind when he told you I needed a favor. What is it?”

  “You’d have to offer to spin straw into gold to get me to go back to San Miguel.”

  “Straw into … oh, Rumpelstiltskin.” She moistened her lips. “I can’t do that but I’ll give you anything else.”

  “Even half of your kingdom?”

  “You’re talking about the inheritance? You can have it all.” She leaned forward and spoke eagerly, “I’ll have Mr. Townsend draw up the papers. The moment I have what I want and we leave San Miguel, Winter Castle belongs to you.”

  He gazed at her in astonishment. “You’d give it up?”

  “I don’t want it. I never wanted any of it. You can have it all. Just take me to San Miguel.”

  He was silent a moment, studying her. “I think you mean it.”

  “Of course, I mean it.” She gestured impatiently. “Will you take the island and the castle? You grew up here. The castle must mean something to you.”

  “And it means nothing to you?”

  “Nothing.”

  “But the money does mean something to you?”

  “If it will get me what I want.”

  “San Miguel.” His expression was suddenly intent. “Curioser and curioser.”

  “Will you take it?” she asked again.

  He shook his head. “This place has no fond memories for me.”

  Disappointment surged through her. “Then why did you come? What do you want?”

  He paused for an instant before asking softly, “Haven’t you guessed? I want what my father wanted. ‘The Winter Bride.’ ”

  “Then take it,” she said quickly. “And I’ll throw in the island. I’ll sign the papers tomorrow.”

  “Not so fast.” He held up his hand. “I’m not sure the painting is worth the price you’re asking me to pay. I’ll have to make a few phone calls to San Miguel and see how badly Marino still wants my head and if my contacts are still in place.”

  “How long will that take?”

  “A few days, perhaps a week.”

  She mustn’t be impatient, she told herself. A week wasn’t so long after seven years. “And you’ll contact me when you’ve made a decision?”

  “Oh, before that. I want you to come to the cottage tomorrow afternoon.”

  She frowned, puzzled. “Why?”

  “Call it a whim.” He smiled mockingly. “Maybe I just want to look at you. It’s not every day I get the opportunity of studying the Winter Bride at close range. You’ll indulge me, I trust?”

  “I don’t see …” She trailed off as she met his gaze. His eyes were glittering with mockery and yet she was conscious of something deeper, beneath the surface. Anger? Whatever it was, she must placate him. He had to take her to San Miguel. “Yes, I’ll come.”

  “I thought you would. We’ve already noted how compliant you can be, if it suits you.” He moved toward the door. “I’ll expect you at three.”

  Three

  Ysabel took a deep breath before knocking on the door of the cottage.

  “Come in.”

  Jed was standing by an ancient black iron cook-stove and looked up as she came inside. His brows raised as his gaze took in her long-sleeved ivory jersey chemise and the soft suede of her knee-length off-white boots.

  “Ah, I see we have the supermarket Camelot version today.”

  “My other gowns seemed to annoy you.”

  “So you decided to mollify me? What a peace-loving nature you have.”

  “It seemed foolish to let unimportant details get in the way of what is important,” she said quietly.

  “How sensible.”
He picked up the dark blue metal coffeepot. “Coffee?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Sit down. You don’t mind if I have some?”

  She shook her head before moving across the room to sit down at the table. She glanced around. There wasn’t much to see; besides the stove and an equally ancient refrigerator, there were only an oak table and two chairs, bookshelves affixed with brackets to the far wall, a double bed stripped of its linen. The wall opposite her was dominated by a large uncurtained window overlooking the sea and a pine-paneled window seat. The cottage appeared sparkling clean but extremely Spartan. “You can’t be very comfortable here. You don’t even have bed linens. Why don’t you come to the castle?”

  “I’m touched by your concern. I tossed out the mattress and sheets when I found they were flearidden. I picked up some bedding in town this morning, but I haven’t bothered to put it on yet.” He poured coffee into a brown mug and then crossed to sit down opposite her at the table. “And I prefer to be on my own.”

  “Why?”

  “I know this will astonish you since I’ve shown you such a sunny side of my nature, but I was never able to charm your lovable housekeeper. She’d probably strew my bed with thorns tipped with curare.” He lifted his cup to his lips. “Besides, I feel at home here. I built this cabin myself when I was a sophomore in college.”

  “You did?” She looked around with fresh interest. “You appear to have done an amazingly good job of it. A hobby?”

  “Partly. I’ve always liked building things, but at the time I needed a project to ease my frustrations.”

  She said slowly, “I can understand that.”

  “Can you?” He leaned back in his chair and regarded her curiously. “And what do you do to ease your frustrations, Ysabel?”

  His intonation had become subtly sensual, and she felt heat sting her cheeks. She quickly looked down at her hands folded on the table. “I study.”

  “What do you study?”

  “Everything and anything. I hadn’t completed even my secondary education when I married Arnold. I took correspondence courses to get my diploma and then started university courses. I received a bachelor’s degree in liberal arts last year.”

  “It must have been a long and laborious process. Why didn’t you go to classes on the mainland?”

  “Arnold didn’t want me to leave the island.”

  “Not even to complete your education?”

  She kept her voice carefully neutral. “He saw no value in my having any more schooling. However, he did permit me to take the correspondence work to amuse me.”

  “Permit.” He muttered something beneath his breath that sounded obscene. “How generous of him. As long as it didn’t interfere with your primary function.”

  “That’s correct.” She could feel his intent gaze on her face and tried to change the subject. “There’s no telephone here. How will you make your calls to San Miguel?”

  “I’ve already made them. When I went over to the mainland this morning.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me at once?” Her gaze flew to his face. “What did you find out?”

  “That Marino still hates my entrails.”

  “And your contacts?”

  “Still in place.”

  Her clasped hands tightened until the knuckles turned white. “And your decision?”

  “I don’t have one yet.”

  “When will you make—”

  “I have no idea,” he interrupted. “I’m going to have to weigh the advantages and risks. I’ll let you know when I do.”

  She frowned anxiously as she searched his impassive face. “You’re not toying with me?”

  He smiled mockingly. “You’re not very trusting.”

  “Arnold would sometimes—” She stopped. “No, I guess I’m not.”

  His smile faded. “I’d forgotten that dirty trick of my father. Hold out a teasing carrot until he got what he wanted and then suddenly the carrot would disappear.” His tone harshened. “I don’t play those games. I’m not my father, Ysabel.”

  “But I don’t know that, do I? You have some of the same qualities. You like to have your own way and you feel the same about ‘The Winter Bride.’ ”

  “Not quite the same. I never built my life around a painting.”

  “But you still want it.”

  “Hell yes, I want it. I grew up thinking it would belong to me, and I felt damned cheated when I had to leave it with that bastard. When I was a boy, my mother told me over and over ‘The Winter Bride’ was mine.”

  “Why did she do that? She must have known Arnold would never give it up to anyone.”

  “The island and castle as well as the painting had belonged to her family for over a century.”

  Her eyes widened in surprise. “I didn’t know that. Arnold never mentioned to me how he had acquired the island.”

  “Oh, he made it very much his own after he married my mother. He had a king complex, and the marriage was the ideal setting for him. He fell in love with the castle and the painting and managed to tolerate my mother until her death”—his lips twisted bitterly—“though he made her life a hell on earth with his affairs and humiliating treatment of her.”

  And his son’s life equally miserable. Ysabel thought with compassion. She had lived in that hell herself for seven long years, but Jed’s imprisonment had been for much longer. She impulsively reached across the table and touched his hand. “I’m sorry.”

  She felt the muscles tense beneath her touch, but he didn’t move his hand away. “Don’t be. I got over being sorry for myself by the time I was thirteen. After that, I was only angry and set out to make as much trouble for the bastard as I could.” He sipped his coffee. “As Townsend will tell you, I got pretty good at it.”

  “Didn’t that hurt your mother too?”

  “She was too crushed and broken by then to care. He had gotten her to sign over the castle and ‘The Winter Bride to him, and she lived in an emotional vacuum, scurrying to obey his every wish. Sometimes I caught an expression on her face.… I think she was glad I was giving him grief. She was too weak to fight him herself.” A sudden edge entered his voice. “Too compliant.’ ”

  She became aware of that now familiar scorching wave of feeling reaching out to her, enfolding her. She quickly pulled back her hand. “Then I pity her very much.”

  “So did I.” He leaned forward, his expression granite-hard. “She went into the trap blindly because she thought she loved him. But you knew exactly what you were doing, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “Exactly.”

  “Then don’t expect me to feel the same sympathy for you. We usually reap what we sow.”

  “I don’t expect you to feel anything for me.”

  “But I do, dammit.” His voice was thick with frustration. “I feel angry and confused.” He paused. “And horny as hell.”

  She stiffened as shock electrified her.

  He smiled grimly. “You’re surprised. Why? You told me my father and I are alike in some ways. This is obviously one of them.”

  The air in the room seemed to have been sucked out. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t do anything but look at him.

  “I worked until I was exhausted last night to make sure I’d be able to sleep,” he said. “It didn’t do any good. I lay there thinking about you and hurting, aching.”

  “It’s not … You were upset. It’s not me.”

  “You think it’s the Winter Bride?” He shrugged. “Maybe.” His voice deepened to silky softness. “Or maybe it’s Ysabel.”

  She shook her head. “It couldn’t be … We just met.”

  “Lust at first sight?”

  “It has to be the Winter Bride.” She moistened her lips. “Coming back here after all these years must be traumatic for you. I’m sure you’ll change your mind once you get over the first effects.”

  “I am over the first shock. You’ll find I recover my equilibrium fairly quickly.” He reached out and
took her hand.

  Why hadn’t she felt this same sense of tingling awareness when she had touched him before? Heat seemed to be spreading up her arm, and, inexplicably, her breasts were swelling, pushing against the soft jersey of her dress. She instinctively tried to break his hold, but he quickly tightened his grasp.

  “No, not yet. I want to touch you.” His voice hoarsened as his thumb ran up and down her inner wrist in an erotic caress. “Lord, your skin feels …”

  “Let me go,” she whispered.

  He didn’t seem to hear her. “That was one of the things I kept thinking about last night. How your cheek felt under my finger as I stroked it. How soft you felt as you lay on the floor under me and how—”

  She wrenched her arm away from him and jumped to her feet. “I’d better get back to the castle. Betty will miss me.”

  “Sit back down. We haven’t finished.”

  She stood looking at him, her hands clenched at her sides.

  “You came here so I could look at you at close range,” he said softly. “Remember?”

  “You’ve already looked at me.”

  “Not half as intimately as I’d like to. Not the way I fantasized last night. Would you like me to tell you exactly how I’d like to see you?”

  “No.” Her voice was shaking and she steadied it. “I’d like to go now please.”

  “Such submissive politeness. He taught you well, didn’t he?” His voice was still soft, but now the tone held a savagery that caused her to step back. “I wonder what else he taught you?”

  “May I go now?”

  He gazed at her, his eyes glittering in his taut face. Then he gestured wearily toward the door. “Lord, you look like a scared little girl. Get out of here.”

  She started for the door.

  “But come back tomorrow.”

  She opened the door.

  His mocking question followed her. “Well, are you coming back?”

  She stood without moving, not looking at him. “You know I’ll have to come back. You haven’t given me your decision yet.”

  “Oh yes, San Miguel. How could I forget San Miguel? I’ll have to consider my options while I’m waiting for you to come back to me, won’t I?”

  She didn’t answer and the next moment the door closed behind her. She stood there, letting the crisp autumn wind cool her heated cheeks. She was shaking, she noticed without surprise. Those last few moments in the cottage had thrown her into a panic, had destroyed her hard-won serenity. It was only because he had caught her off guard, she assured herself. She had known he felt resentment and anger, but the fact that he also wanted her had shocked her.