The Inheritance

by Joan Johnston

  “How soon is she going to be joining you?”

  “She isn’t,” Nicholas said flatly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, there are some people I need to meet.”

  Nicholas fled, ran like a yellow cur being chased by a broom. He didn’t want to answer any more questions about his relationship to Daisy. Because the more times he mentioned to someone he was leaving her in England, the less happy he was about the situation.

  Not that he loved her, or anything like that. But he wanted her. She was his wife. He wasn’t likely to have another. And if that was so, he would rather have her in his bed than have to find a woman for the night in the sort of house where he had grown up.

  He headed back to the party, determined to meet each and every one of his tenants. It was high time he let them know who was going to be in charge of things from now on.

  As he stepped into the ballroom Thompson was just passing by him with a tray of half-filled champagne glasses. The tray slipped and champagne spilled across his new formal coat and brocade vest.

  “I’m so terribly sorry, Your Grace,” Thompson said. “That was terribly clumsy of me.”

  Nicholas swiped at the fizzy wetness with his hands and perused the butler through narrowed eyes. “I see. There seem to have been quite a few accidents this evening. I don’t suppose you know what’s at the root of all this clumsiness, Thompson?”

  The butler never batted an eye. “I’m sure I can’t imagine, Your Grace.”

  “May I suggest, Thompson, that you pass the word that I’ve gotten the message?”

  “What message was that, Your Grace?” Thompson said.

  “It isn’t necessary for you—any of you—to retaliate on behalf of the duchess for the way I treated her this morning. Her Grace is perfectly capable of managing the situation by herself. Do we understand each other, Thompson?”

  “I believe so, Your Grace. If Your Grace would like to retire to your room, I shall see that Porter attends you there.”

  The duke’s lip curled sardonically. “Thank you, Thompson. Would you tell Porter I’ve cried peace before you send him up?”

  Thompson’s eyes twinkled. “I shall, Your Grace.”

  Colin’s eyes hadn’t left Lady Roanna since she entered the drawing room. She was wearing a pink and white striped gown that made her look as soft and pliable as a piece of saltwater taffy. He was surprised when she approached him directly upon entering.

  Her eyes met his as she said, “I wanted to apologize for the way I behaved the last time we met.”

  He didn’t want her apology. He didn’t want to be anywhere near her. Because when he was, his heart rate slammed out of control and muscle and sinew clenched in all the wrong places. “No apology is necessary.”

  She laid a hand on his sleeve to keep him from moving away. Her hands were small and dainty. But absolutely capable of keeping him rooted to the spot.

  He forced his voice to be harsh. “Was there something else you wanted?”

  Her hand trembled on his arm, and her eyes filled to the brim with tears she quickly blinked back. Colin felt like a scoundrel, but he was fighting hard not to succumb to her again.

  “Won’t you forgive me?”

  “You’re forgiven,” he said in a raw voice. “Now get the hell away from me and leave me alone.”

  He watched her recoil as though he had slapped her. Her hand fell to her side, and a single tear slipped from the corner of her eye. He kept his face as impassive as granite. He wasn’t going to let her tears sway him. She didn’t really care about him. This was all another game. And this time, he didn’t intend to lose.

  Colin was surprised when Lady Roanna stood her ground. He had expected her to turn and run for cover after the tongue-lashing he had given her. His eyes caught on her lower lip, which she was worrying with her teeth.

  “I suppose I deserved that,” she said at last. “What I did was rude and … thoughtless. I didn’t realize until you left that I was also dishonest.”

  Colin wished she would look up at him again so he could see what she was thinking, what she was feeling. He didn’t want to ask, but she had piqued his curiosity. “Dishonest? How?”

  She raised her eyes, and he saw himself as a man going down for the third time, drowning in her tears. “I … I was afraid to admit to you … or myself … that I was attracted to a …” She swallowed. “To you,” she finished.

  His heart was thumping so loudly he was surprised she didn’t remark on it. She was attracted to him. But she didn’t want to be, not to someone like him. “You should call me what I am,” he managed to say. “A bastard. That isn’t going to change, so I don’t see what purpose your apology is supposed to serve.”

  “It doesn’t matter to me.”

  “Doesn’t it?”

  He saw the blush that revealed the lie. His voice was soft when he said, “You wish it didn’t matter.” He paused and added, “So do I.”

  Her eyes shot to his, and he saw the yearning there, the desire. And knew he would have to be crazy to do anything about it. “No, Roanna. It wouldn’t work.”

  “But—”

  Her hand clasped his sleeve again. He glanced over and saw the frown on her father’s face. “Let go, Lady Roanna.” He had used her title to put some distance between them. It didn’t work. When she continued holding on to him, he said in a gentler voice, “Your father is watching us. Let go.”

  She did, but as her fingertips slid away he fought the shudder of need that tore through him.

  She clasped her hands in front of her, which he figured was a pretty good idea, since otherwise he would have been tempted to reach for her.

  “Can we be friends, Colin?” she asked, keeping her eyes focused on her hands.

  “Friends?” He frowned. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a lady friend before. I don’t know. What kind of friendship did you have in mind?”

  He watched her brow furrow. She started to speak once, stopped, then pursed her lips in frustration.

  “Just friends,” she said. “You know. Talk to each other.”

  “About what?”

  “Anything. Everything.”

  “You have to trust someone to tell them things about yourself.” Colin shook his head. “I don’t trust you, Roanna,” he said bluntly.

  “Then let me do all the trusting. At least at first.”

  “I don’t know.” Colin knew there was a catch somewhere in what she was suggesting. He just didn’t see it right now. He knew he wouldn’t be able to avoid her completely for the rest of the time he was at Severn, and the friendship she was offering seemed safer than any other relationship he could have with her. To be honest, he liked looking at her, and he liked the way she made him feel when she looked at him.

  “All right, Roanna. Friends.”

  She looked up at him with such a surge of joy in her eyes that it was all he could do not to sweep her into his arms.

  “I promise you won’t be sorry, Colin. I’d better go meet some of the other guests now.”

  From the look Colin saw on her father’s face, he supposed she was right. “I’ll see you later.”

  She gave him a mischievous smile. “You certainly will. We’re seated together at supper.”

  He watched, stunned as she turned and flounced—he couldn’t think of a better word—off toward Lady Linden.

  Roanna was ecstatic with the success of her interview with Colin. She had hoped he would forgive her and agree to come see her again. But she had underestimated how badly she had hurt him. It was, she knew, a tremendous concession for him to agree to try to be friends. Unfortunately, she was as much in the dark as he was about how a man and woman who were attracted to each other physically became friends.

  She had grown up as the pampered and protected daughter of an earl, never allowed to romp and roam with the neighborhood children. Her only relationships recently had been with the young dandies who had besieged her during her comeout the past season. She knew how to tease and dissemble. She knew
nothing about honestly sharing her feelings. But if that was what Colin wanted, she was willing to try.

  It was fortunate she had been able to persuade Daisy to seat them together at supper. As she laid her hand on Colin’s arm, and he led her in to the table, she felt the vibrations that shot between them. She knew it must be happening to both of them. It simply couldn’t be one-sided. She debated the wisdom of trying to flirt with him and decided against it. If she was to have a chance at all of earning back his respect, she would have to do it on his terms. As his friend.

  Once they were seated and the soup was served, she searched her mind for a topic, any topic, she might discuss with him.

  “Are you—”

  “Have you—”

  They both spoke at the same time, then fell silent, each waiting for the other to speak.

  “You go ahead,” Roanna said, relieved that she wouldn’t have to come up with something intelligent to discuss.

  “I was going to ask if you’ve been riding recently.”

  “I go every day,” Roanna said.

  Silence fell.

  Roanna wondered whether he wanted to invite her to go riding with him, or whether he wanted her to invite him to join her.

  “Would you—”

  “We could—”

  Roanna laughed. “This is ridiculous. I don’t know why I should feel so awkward speaking with you. If you asked Priss I’m sure she’d tell you I can talk all day without taking a breath. Now I’m babbling, so you see she’s not far off the mark. Anyway, I wondered whether we might not ride together sometime. What do you think?”

  “I was just going to invite you to join me tomorrow. Along with Daisy and the duke of course. We’re going to be visiting one of the tenants.”

  Roanna smiled and Colin felt his stomach do a flip-flop.

  “I would love to join you. What time should I be there?”

  “Is nine o’clock too early?”

  Roanna would have to be up before the crack of dawn to dress and make the ride to Severn, but she said, “Nine o’clock would be fine.”

  Colin had been wondering what they would find to talk about, but once Roanna got started, it seemed there were a dozen subjects that arose. She had something to say about every one of them. Not that she hogged the conversation. She asked him questions to draw him out, and he was pleased to note that she listened to him and asked even more questions. It surprised him to realize how intelligent she was and how much she had read.

  He was grateful for the respite from Roanna’s company when the ladies left the men and retired to the drawing room. He paid little attention to the conversation of the men sitting around the table with him; he was too caught up in his own thoughts.

  If he were honest, he was forced to admit that Roanna might know more about the world at large than he did, and her interests were more widespread than his. He had always known who he was and what he wanted to do. Life had been simple because his goals had been simple. He had spent hours on the range learning everything there was to know about horses and cattle. He had spent an equal number of hours learning the business end of the ranch.

  His father had been gone so much he hadn’t been around to do a lot of the bookwork. It should have fallen on Simp. But Simp hated working with numbers, so Colin had taken over. From a very early age Colin had assumed responsibilities that would have staggered some men. He hadn’t minded. In fact, he had found a deep sense of satisfaction from knowing he was handling a man’s job.

  But there was no role for him to play here in England except son of the scion. There was a bailiff to manage the land and a solicitor to manage the business. He wasn’t needed here. And the knowledge he had garnered over the years wasn’t valuable here, the way it was in Texas.

  To Colin’s dismay, his friendly conversation with Roanna had only proven how ill-suited he was to court someone like her. She had been right to reject him. He had nothing to offer her in England. And he wasn’t sure what she could offer him in Texas—aside from beauty and stubbornness and an ability to laugh at herself. Good qualities in a woman, he conceded. But were they enough for a western wife?

  When the men rejoined the ladies and moved to the ballroom, he still hadn’t made up his mind whether he was going to ask her to dance. The decision was made for him when Daisy said, “Colin, I hope you’ll see that Lady Roanna enjoys a dance or two.”

  Since Roanna was standing right there, it would have been churlish of him not to ask her. “Lady Roanna?”

  “I would love to dance,” she said.

  The problem with being friends with a woman, Colin quickly realized, was that you had to find a way to control the more than friendly feelings you might have for her. In his case, he was deluged with needs and wants and desires concerning Lady Roanna Warenne that had absolutely nothing to do with friendship.

  “You’re very graceful on your feet,” Roanna said, hoping to encourage Colin to relax. Instead, his grasp tightened around her waist, and she was uncomfortably aware of the stern look on her father’s face as a consequence.

  “Uh … Colin … I think I need a breath of fresh air. Could we please stop?”

  Colin danced her toward the terrace doors and, since they were open, out onto the terrace itself.

  Roanna realized that she wasn’t nearly so uncomfortable in Colin’s embrace without her father’s censorious gaze to make her feel self-conscious. She felt Colin’s reluctance as he released her, but since she was the one who had pleaded for air, she could hardly demand he continue the dance.

  She walked over to the stone balustrade that looked over the rose garden. She took a deep breath and let it out. “The roses smell so lovely.”

  Before she realized what he intended, Colin had leapt over the stone wall and landed in an aisle between two rows of rosebushes.

  “What are you doing down there?” Roanna asked with a laugh.

  He plucked a rose—yelping when a thorn caught him—and handed it up to her. “This is for you.”

  She accepted the rose and said, “Come back up here, and let me see your hand.”

  Roanna couldn’t help being impressed with his strength and grace as he placed his palms on the wall and heaved himself up and over it again. “Your hand,” she said, extending hers to receive it.

  He had already stuck his thumb in his mouth to suck on it before he relinquished it to her. She cupped his hand in both of hers and lifted it toward her mouth. She put her lips against his thumb, where it was already damp from his mouth.

  “Roanna.” His voice was raw. She was tasting him, as he wanted to taste her.

  Roanna sucked lightly on the spot where the thorn had torn his skin. Then she lifted her eyes to meet Colin’s.

  His eyes were stormy, his mouth thinned, his body taut.

  “To hell with it,” he said.

  His mouth found hers, and he tasted her as he had been dying to do since he had left her in the earl’s stable. To his surprise she met his desire and matched it with her own. Her hands slipped up around his neck and teased into his hair, causing a shiver to run down his spine.

  The sound of a man clearing his throat had them leaping guiltily apart. They kept their backs to the ballroom and stared out over the garden.

  “Lovely night tonight, isn’t it? Lady Roanna, your mother was looking for you. I believe she’s ready to leave.”

  Colin breathed a sigh of relief. It was his father, not hers. He turned to Roanna, wondering what he would see in her eyes in the golden streams of light from the ballroom.

  He saw the same frustration he felt. At business left unfinished. Of desire left unrequited. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow.” She left him without another look or another word.

  Colin stayed on the terrace and waited for his father to join him at the balustrade. He heard footsteps on the stone, then felt his father’s presence.

  “I thought you’d gotten her out of your system.”

  “I thought I had, too.”
<
br />   “Then what was that all about?”

  Colin’s lips curled in a mocking smile. “We decided to be friends.”

  “That kiss looked a lot more than friendly to me.”

  Colin heard the concern in his father’s voice. “I know,” he said with a sigh.

  “You’re going riding with her tomorrow?”

  Now he heard disapproval. And balked at yielding to his father’s judgment of the situation. “I can handle this, Pa. Don’t interfere.”

  “It’s hard not to, under the circumstances.”

  “Don’t,” Colin warned.

  He saw his father stiffen, saw that he had stepped over a boundary that had always been there in the past. He had been a boy, his father a man. His father had given orders, he had obeyed. Only now, somehow, that was all changing. It wasn’t comfortable for either of them, Colin thought. But he wasn’t able to slip back into the familiar role he had played in the past.

  Colin waited to see how his father would react. He was surprised when his father leaned over with his elbows on the stone balustrade and said, “I wondered when this day would come. How I would feel. What I would do.”

  He turned and glanced at Colin, then looked out over the rose garden. “I suppose all I have to say is I’ve always been proud of you. You have a good head on your shoulders. I hope you’ll use it.”

  He stood slowly and turned to Colin and put a hand on his shoulder. “Let’s go inside, son. We need to say good night to our guests.”

  His father had hugged him countless times. To comfort him, encourage him, applaud him. What made this gesture so different was the fact that, although he had called him son, his father had addressed him man to man. He had acknowledged Colin’s right to make his own decisions. And to deal with the consequences of his own mistakes.

  Colin felt a lump of emotion in his throat that kept him from speaking. He nodded to his father and walked beside him back to the ballroom.

  It was the first cutting of ties between father and son, but not the last. Colin fought back thoughts of what it would be like to part from his father in the spring. That was a long time from now. Anything could happen.