Tidewater Seduction

by Anne Mather

  ‘Unlikely,’ the older woman assured her coldly, having no choice but to follow them into the house. ‘I don’t think any of us is likely to forget the past, Joanna. Least of all Cole.’

  Joanna’s jaw compressed, but, try as she might, she couldn’t think of any flip comment to make. And while she was in that state of uncertainty Cole’s elbow nudged her in the back.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said, jerking his head towards the forked staircase that led up to a galleried landing. ‘Before I’m tempted to put a foot in that big mouth of yours.’

  CHAPTER SIX

  JOANNA lingered in the shower, resting her slim back against the cold tiled wall, and allowing the pummelling spray to do its worst. But it was so good to feel cool again, and she was loath to step out into the moist evening air.

  Beyond her windows, the velvety darkness was alive with the whirrings and rustlings of the night. Huge moths beat their wings against her blinds, and she’d already had to dispose of a family of termites that had taken up residence on her veranda. She’d forgotten how many minor drawbacks there were to living at Tidewater, and her city sensibilities needed to be redefined.

  But she had wanted to call for help when she found a cockroach in the shower-stall. She hated the ugly insects, with their hard shells, that crunched if you stood on them. Nevertheless, she had dealt with it herself. After the harsh words she and Cole had exchanged, she doubted he would have been willing to accommodate her. And, although she could have summoned one of the servants to attend to it, she was unwilling to show any softness in this house.

  Besides, she wasn’t usually so squeamish. It was just that it had been a long day, and these small difficulties were wearing away her defences. She needed time to adjust—to adapt to her situation, and restore her equilibrium. But, if Cole had his way, she wasn’t going to get it. In fifteen minutes, she was expected to go downstairs and join the family for the evening meal.

  Pushing herself away from the wall, she reached out and turned off the taps. Then, sweeping the curtain aside, she stepped out on to the marble-tiled floor. A huge white bathsheet encased her from her neck to her ankles, and, draping it securely about her, she padded through to the bedroom.

  Viewing her appearance in the gilt-edged pier-glass, she felt a sense of resignation. Her haunted expression was not what she wanted to see, and the stark whiteness of the towel accentuated the dark rings around her eyes. She looked—defeated, she thought impatiently. Young, and vulnerable, and—defeated. And all because she was hot, and tired, and desperate to see a friendly face.

  The knock that came at her door at that moment was badly timed. At the sound, all her defences sprang into active life, and with her hackles up, and her hands clenched tightly in the folds of the towel, she determined not to answer it.

  But when the door-handle rattled she tensed in dismay. There had been no key to lock the door, and although she had wedged the back of the chair beneath the handle before she went for her shower she doubted it would be sufficient deterrent to so determined a visitor.

  Then she heard someone say her name, and her misgivings fled. The voice was unmistakably feminine, and when the word was repeated in hushed, urgent tones she flew across the room to remove the chair.

  She practically flung open the door, and the girl, who had been inclined towards the panels outside, almost fell into the room. ‘Jo,’ she said again, her face flushed with anxious colour. ‘Oh, Jo, I can’t believe it!’

  ‘Charley!’ Securing the towel beneath her breasts, Joanna withstood the onslaught as Cole’s fifteen-year-old sister launched herself at her. ‘Gosh, Charley, it’s good to see you.’

  ‘You, too.’ Charley hugged her with all the strength of her sturdy young frame, and then drew back to gaze at Joanna with unconcealed delight. ‘How long are you staying?’

  ‘I—I’m not sure.’ Joanna realised that that was something she hadn’t given a lot of thought to. ‘A few days, maybe.’ She blinked back an errant tear. ‘So—how are you? And Donna? And Sandy? I guess he must be twelve now, is that right? Heavens, aren’t you growing up!’

  ‘We’re OK.’ Charley gave a careless shrug of her shoulders. She brushed back the thick braid, which was several shades darker than Cole’s hair, and grimaced. ‘Donna’s still Donna, and Sandy still follows Cole around, like he always did.’

  Joanna nodded. Donna was Charley’s twin, but the two sisters had never been really close. Meanwhile Sandy—Alexander—was the youngest member of the family.

  ‘I guess you know about Pa,’ Charley continued now, as Joanna cast a doubtful glance up and down the corridor outside before closing the door. The girl sauntered across the room, evidently dressed for supper, in her white linen tunic, ankle socks, and patent shoes, and picked up Joanna’s hairbrush from the dressing-table. ‘He’s pretty sick.’

  ‘Yes.’ Joanna’s mouth dried, and she hitched the towel a little tighter. ‘I’m—sorry.’

  ‘Why should you be?’ Charley swung round to face her. ‘It isn’t as if you ever liked him.’

  Joanna moistened her lips. ‘No,’ she conceded evenly. ‘He’s—not an easy man to like.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’ Charley raised her eyes towards the ceiling in a gesture that was surprisingly adult for someone of her age. ‘You know he’s already told me I’ve got to go to college!’

  ‘Well …’ Joanna lifted her shoulders. ‘That doesn’t seem too unreasonable——’

  ‘Not to you, maybe.’ Charley tossed her head. ‘Jo, I don’t want to go to college. Donna’s the academic one, not me. I’d just as soon stay here and help Ma.’

  Joanna shook her head. ‘You may change your mind. I mean, it’s a few years yet——’

  ‘I won’t.’ Charley scowled. ‘You don’t understand, Jo. I—I—want to get married.’

  ‘Married?’ Joanna was astounded, and showed it, and Charley hurried on.

  ‘Yes, married,’ she said, clasping her hands together and facing Joanna with a stubborn light in her eyes. ‘Next year. When I’m sixteen.’

  Joanna caught her lower lip between her teeth. ‘You’ve got someone in mind, I gather.’

  ‘Of course.’ Charley looked scornful. ‘You remember Billy Fenton, don’t you? His mother used to visit the clinic. You helped her——’

  ‘I remember Billy Fenton,’ Joanna interrupted quickly, her spirits plummeting. The Fentons were a poor white family who occupied a one-roomed shack on the edge of the estate. Boulevard—Bull—Fenton used to be employed in the stables, until his craving for liquor and his employer’s patience collided. Ryan Macallister had thrown him out, indifferent to the burdens Bull’s being without a job would put on his entire family.

  Not that people had blamed Cole’s father for what he’d done. It was a well-known fact that Bull was bone idle; that he beat his wife and kids, and that he had set up a whiskey still, somewhere back in the woods. Of course, the police had never found any evidence to convict him with, but the rumours persisted, and so did Bull’s drunkenness.

  But it was Bull’s wife, Susan, Joanna had felt sorry for. Although the girl had been little more than her own age, she had already had seven babies, three of whom had been stillborn. She was a little mouse of a creature, afraid of her brutal husband, yet without the will to leave him. All Joanna had been able to do was give her the means to prevent the yearly pregnancies, and gradually, over a period of months, she had seen the woman regaining her self-respect.

  Billy had been her oldest child, and thankfully nothing like his father. Joanna guessed he must be sixteen or seventeen now, and probably quite a hero to someone like Charley. But Charley would probably never have noticed him if she hadn’t helped Joanna at the clinic during her school holidays. And, while it was unfair to judge Billy because of his background, Joanna knew there was no way Charley’s family would countenance such a liaison.

  ‘Why are you looking like that?’ the girl demanded now, evidently sensing something from Joanna’s silence that Joanna hers
elf had hoped to conceal. ‘You think I’m too young, don’t you? Well, I’m not. And no one’s going to send me away to college, if I don’t want to go.’

  Joanna breathed a little more freely. In her concern about Billy’s suitability, Charley’s age hadn’t even come into it. But now she seized on the girl’s words with some relief.

  ‘I think it’s too soon to be thinking about next year,’ she replied carefully. ‘Heavens, you could change your mind next week.’

  ‘I won’t.’ Charley sounded very definite. ‘So—will you talk to Cole about it? He never listens to me, but I know he’ll listen to you.’

  ‘Cole!’ Joanna almost laughed. ‘Charley, Cole’s hardly likely to listen to anything I have to say.’

  ‘He might.’ Charley hunched her shoulders. ‘And—and if Pa’s dying, Cole’s going to be the one to make the decisions around here, isn’t he?’

  Joanna expelled her breath heavily. ‘I—look, Charley, we can’t talk now. I’ve got to get my hair dried, and get dressed for supper. Let—er—let me think about it, OK? Now, off you go. Before your mother starts wondering where you are.’

  ‘All right.’ Charley bestowed an impulsive kiss on her cheek, and skipped across to the door. ‘I’m so glad you’re back, Jo. I just know things are going to work out. You’ll see.’

  Joanna wished she could feel as optimistic, as she hurriedly dried her hair, and pulled on silk leggings and an over-size shirt that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs. The leggings and shirt were cream, and she slotted the ends of a chunky black belt together, and allowed it to rest loosely on her hips. Glossy hooped earrings swung against her neck, and she let her hair loose, a fall of black silk that framed her delicately arched cheekbones, and dipped into the exposed hollow of her throat.

  Of course, she was late. Even without Charley’s appearance, she would have been hard-pressed to make it downstairs at the appropriate time. As it was, she had the dubious pleasure of being the last to appear, and although she hadn’t intended to make an entrance it turned out that way.

  The whole family was waiting for her in the library. Even though it was more than three years since she’d left Tidewater, Joanna had known exactly where she would find them. Even the slightly musty smell of the books was the same. And nine pairs of eyes acknowledged her appearance, mostly alike in their expressions of disapproval.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said, walking into the room with an air of confidence she was far from feeling. ‘I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.’

  And it was as she was bestowing an appeasing smile on the room in general that she realised one of the pairs of eyes that had monitored her arrival was Ryan Macallister’s. Unlike his son, he wasn’t standing, which was why Joanna hadn’t noticed him at once. He was seated in a wing-back chair, beside the flower-filled fireplace, and even a passing glance was enough for her to realise that Cole had not been exaggerating when he said his father was very ill. Skeletally thin, Ryan seemed to have shrivelled to a shadow of his former self, and in spite of the heat in the room, which the turning fans only moved around, he was wrapped in a Paisley shawl, with a blanket over his knees.

  Joanna was temporarily nonplussed. She didn’t know what to say to him. It was obvious something was expected of her, but for a moment she felt incapable of speech. Her eyes flickered uncertainly over the other members of the family. Joe, the brother closest to Cole in age, was there, and she assumed the rather sharp-faced woman at his side must be his wife. Certainly, the woman was regarding her with undisguised hostility—much like her mother-in-law, thought Joanna drily. Of course, Charley’s was a friendly face, and even Ben’s lips moved in silent approbation. But Donna was too much like her mother to offer any support, and Sandy was too young to count. As for Cole …

  Joanna’s gaze turned from his guarded face to Maggie’s. Cole’s mother was openly contemptuous, but whether that was for her, or for what she was wearing, she couldn’t be sure. It was obvious she didn’t conform to the standards set by Maggie and her daughters: crisp shirtwaists and white stockings had never been a part of her wardrobe.

  Joanna drew a steadying breath, and, realising it was up to her to show all of them that she could not be intimidated, she approached the old man’s chair. ‘Mr Macallister,’ she said, and her cool English voice rang out loud and clear. She had never progressed beyond calling him Mr Macallister, and she saw no reason to change that now. ‘How are you?’

  Ryan Macallister’s mouth compressed. ‘How do I look?’ he enquired harshly, and Joanna realised he had lost none of his irascibility.

  She hesitated. ‘Not good,’ she said at last, to the concerted sound of several indrawn breaths. ‘But I’m sure you already know that.’

  Ryan’s eyes narrowed. They had once been as blue as his son’s, but now they were an indeterminate shade of grey. ‘Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?’ he muttered, bony fingers kneading the empty glass in his hand. ‘Hope I didn’t make a mistake bringing you back here. I don’t want any trouble. Not from you, or anyone else.’

  Joanna felt an insane desire to laugh. He didn’t want any trouble. Dear God, surely he didn’t think she did!

  ‘Why did you ask me to come here, Mr Macallister?’ she enquired politely, but Cole’s father was not prepared to make it that easy for her.

  ‘You’ll find out,’ he said gruffly, and then, holding out his empty glass to Cole, he muttered, ‘Get me another drink, will you? And whatever she wants.’

  ‘Ryan!’ As her son moved to do his father’s bidding, Maggie took an involuntary step forward. ‘Ryan, you know what the doctor said.’

  ‘Don’t I just?’ The old man gave her a scornful look. ‘What’s the matter, Maggie? You heard what Joanna said. I don’t look good. And I sure as hell don’t feel good. So why would I restrict myself to one drink, when two, or even three, make me feel so much better?’

  Maggie’s thin lips tightened, and the look she cast in Joanna’s direction was baleful. But, thankfully, Joanna was able to give her attention to choosing a drink, and if Cole’s expression was no less forbidding, at least he kept his opinion to himself.

  ‘Just fruit juice, please,’ she said, deciding that in this company it would be wise to keep her wits about her, and only the faint drawing together of Cole’s brows indicated his reaction to it.

  Then, as if at some silent signal from their father, the other members of the family clustered round her. Joe unbent sufficiently to deposit a swift kiss on her cheek, before introducing his wife, Alicia, and even Donna fingered the smooth, satiny fabric of her shirt, and expressed a wish that she had one like it.

  ‘You’re too fat,’ remarked Charley, who had never had any tact, and Donna’s resentful eyes turned on her twin.

  ‘Jo used to be fat, too,’ she retorted, and Joanna thought how typical it was that she should be made the brunt of their argument.

  ‘That was because she drank too much,’ countered Charley, uncaring of Joanna’s feelings. ‘Pa said so.’

  ‘Pa said a lot of things,’ said Ben, in a low voice, stepping between the two sisters. ‘That doesn’t mean it was true. Now, why don’t you two stop embarrassing Jo, and go and help Lacey?’

  ‘Lacey doesn’t need any help,’ said Charley, but she gave Joanna a rueful smile as she did so. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean you used to be really fat. Just—just——’

  ‘Overweight?’ suggested Joanna drily, and Charley gave a vigorous nod.

  ‘Clear off,’ ordered Ben, not at all appeased by his sister’s attempt at an apology, and the twins mooched away, still continuing their argument. ‘So,’ he added, when they were alone, ‘is it as bad as you expected?’

  Joanna allowed herself a wry smile. ‘Worse?’ she suggested lightly, and then shook her head. ‘No. Not worse. Different.’

  ‘Because of Pa,’ murmured Ben, moving so that he was between her and his father, and Joanna nodded.

  ‘It’s funny,’ she said, only just realising that it was true. ‘He doesn
’t scare me any more. Why’s that, do you suppose?’

  ‘Because he’s ill?’

  ‘No.’ Joanna frowned. ‘At least, I don’t think so. He’s still as belligerent as ever, and it’s obvious he still has all of you running round after him.’

  ‘Except Cole,’ said Ben softly, and Joanna looked up at him in surprise.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘You’ll find out.’ Ben shrugged. ‘Cole’s changed. He’s not the same as he used to be.’

  Joanna glanced towards her ex-husband, who was presently making his way towards them, a tall glass of fruit cordial in his hand. ‘He seems the same to me,’ she muttered, in an undertone, and Ben raised his eyebrows meaningfully as Cole joined them.

  ‘One fruit juice,’ he said, handing Joanna the glass, before giving his brother a studied look. ‘Did I interrupt something?’

  ‘Heck, no.’ Ben coloured a little now, and Joanna’s feeling towards him warmed, at this indication of his youth. ‘We were just discussing Pa, that’s all.’

  Cole turned his head to where Joe and Alicia were standing over his father’s chair, and then pulled a wry face. ‘He seems more animated tonight than I’ve seen him in a while.’ His cool gaze moved to Joanna. ‘Perhaps we have you to thank for that.’

  ‘Oh, heaven forbid that you should have to thank me for anything,’ Joanna responded mockingly. She tasted her drink, and then put out her tongue to lick the last drop of mango juice from her lips. ‘Hmm, this is delightful! I’m glad you made it, Cole. I’m sure your mother wishes it was hemlock!’

  ‘You can’t blame my mother for not trusting you,’ declared Cole, in a low, harsh tone, and Ben, evidently feeling surplus to requirements, went to stop Sandy from tormenting the twins. ‘You didn’t exactly make things easy for her.’

  ‘It wasn’t my fault that your father’s duplicity came home to roost,’ responded Joanna shortly, and then, forcing herself not to get involved in another argument with him, she added, ‘Is Sarah still living in Beaumaris, by the way? I’d like to see her while I’m here.’