He was right, but it wasn’t the end of the world; it meant only that another few days would pass before she could leave Costa Rica. Still, her stomach knotted at the thought. She wanted to leave, to go back to all the things that were familiar and safe.
‘I’ll have Miss Squires call you as soon as I get the OK.’
But the days dragged by, with Julie offering excuses for the delays until finally, one afternoon, Arden decided she’d had enough. She called Lithgow’s office and demanded to speak to him.
‘Tell him he’s got a choice,’ she said. ‘Either he talks to me now or he talks to my attorney later.’
Lithgow came on the line almost immediately. His tone was apologetic and conciliatory.
‘Miss Miller,’ he said, ‘I know you’ve been patient—’
‘More than patient,’ Arden snapped. ‘And you’ve repaid my patience by wasting my time.’
‘No. I have not. New York hasn’t OKed your cheque, and—’ He swallowed audibly. ‘Please don’t do anything precipitate.’
‘Precipitate?’ Arden laughed. ‘Waiting all these days for the money you owe me is hardly “precipitate”!’
‘I know—and I’m going to take care of things at once. I’ll have it delivered to you within the hour.’
The phone went dead. Well, then, that was settled. All it had taken was a bit of muscle. Arden sighed deeply. She ached to leave this country, to put everything that had happened behind her. She sank down on the edge of the bed and put her head in her hands. She wanted to stop thinking about Conor, about all the times he’d made her look like a fool.
There was a knock at the door. Arden sprang to her feet and breathed a sigh of relief. Lithgow must have sent her cheque by special messenger. Smiling, she flew to the door and flung it open.
Conor! It was Conor who stood in the doorway, not a uniformed messenger.
‘Hello, Arden.’
She stared at him, stunned. Her throat worked and finally she managed to whisper his name.
‘Conor?’ She swallowed. ‘What—what—’
‘We have things to discuss, Arden. And I really think we should discuss them in private.’
In private. In this tiny room, with a bed that took up half the floorspace? Her gaze flickered over him, taking in the handsome fare, the broad shoulders that seemed to push against the confines of his dark blue T-shirt, then dropped to the faded jeans that hugged his hips...
‘What’s the problem, Arden? Are you concerned about the impropriety of having a man in your room?’
Her mouth hardened. ‘What are you doing here?’ she said coldly.
‘I told you, we need to talk.’
‘How did you find... ?’ She puffed out her breath. ‘Of course. Pablo told you.’
‘Yes.’ His gaze slipped past her. ‘It’s hardly the sort of place you’re accustomed to, is it?’
There was an edge to his words that made her flush. ‘I won’t be here long.’
‘No.’ His lips pulled back from his teeth, and he made a sound that was not quite a laugh. ‘No, I’m sure you won’t.’
Her flush deepened. ‘Either tell me why you came here, or leave.’
Conor shouldered his way past her. ‘This won’t take long. I’ve had a rough week, so let’s get this over with.’
Yes, Arden thought as the door swung shut, he must have had a difficult week. There were shadows under his eyes and lines of exhaustion etched alongside his mouth.
‘Get what over with?’ she asked slowly.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked to the centre of the room and looked around. She knew he was taking in the shabby surroundings, the suitcase left on a chair and never unpacked because there was no closet, the window that looked out on a narrow alley.
‘What a comedown for you, sweetheart,’ he said softly.
Arden stiffened. ‘Is that why you came? To insult me?’
He swung towards her, his eyes a dangerous shade of green. ‘Felix is dead.’
She stared at him. ‘What?’
‘It happened three days ago, in his sleep.’
Arden swallowed. ‘Conor, I’m so sorry. I—’
‘Yeah.’ The muscle in his cheek knotted and unknotted. ‘I’ll bet.’
She took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes. ‘He said he was tired. We—we talked about it before I left the ranch...’
‘Did you,’ Conor said, his voice flat. ‘What else did you talk about, Arden?’
‘I don’t know—I don’t remember.’
Conor put his hands on his hips. ‘Try.’
She looked at him. There was such anger in his eyes. No, it was more than anger. It was—it was rage.
‘Did he talk about a new beginning?’
Arden frowned and tried to remember. ‘Yes. Something like that.’
He strode to where she stood and clasped her shoulders roughly. ‘And what did you say to that?’
‘I said—I said, I hoped he was right, that I believed in new beginnings, too, and he—’
‘You bitch!’ Conor’s fingers dug into her flesh as he shook her. ‘I’m just surprised you left the change in his will to chance, that you didn’t go round up Inez and Thomas that very minute instead of trusting Felix to do it on his own.’
‘Damn you, let me go!’ Arden wrenched free and glared at him. ‘What do the cook and the gardener have to do with this? What are you accusing me of?’
‘They witnessed the hand-written codicil Felix drafted to his will an hour after you left El Corazon.’
‘What’s that got to do with me?’
Conor laughed unpleasantly. ‘Ah. Now she’s going to try and play dumb!’
‘Listen, Conor, either get to the point or get out!’
‘The codicil is short and sweet. “To Arden Miller,” Felix wrote, “I leave my beloved finca, so that we may all have a new beginning.”’
Arden reached out and clasped the back of the chair. ‘I don’t believe you!’
Conor’s smile was terrible in its coldness. ‘He left you El Corazon. The whole thing, sweetheart. The house. The land. The crops and the cattle. All of it, right down to the pots in the kitchen.’
Her throat worked. ‘No,’ she whispered, ‘he couldn’t have.’
‘You mean, he shouldn’t have. But he did. And if you think, for one minute, I’m going to permit you to—’
‘I’m not,’ she said in a rush, ‘I mean, I don’t expect—’
‘Everything I thought about you is true, isn’t it? You wormed your way into the confidence of an old man and—’
‘Stop it, Conor! You don’t know what you’re saying. I’m trying to tell you, I never—’
‘You won’t get El Corazon, not while I’m here to stop you.’
Arden’s eyes flashed. ‘For the last time,’ she said, ‘listen to me before you make a complete fool of yourself. I never asked Felix for anything. And I won’t accept—’ There was a rap at the door. She uttered a sharp oath, swung around and threw it open. ‘What is it?’ she snapped.
A boy stood in the dimly lit corridor, a large envelope clutched in his outstretched hand.
‘I am sorry to disturb you, señorita, but Senor Lithgow said to deliver this to you at once.’
Arden snatched the envelope from him and tore it open. Her hand stilled. These were the documents she’d waited so long for. Minutes ago, they’d meant everything. Now, they were nothing but an intrusion.
She closed the door, leaned her forehead against it, and took a deep breath. Well, Lithgow had finally come through. Tomorrow morning, she’d put a few thousand miles between herself and Conor Martinez, and it wouldn’t be a moment too soon. As for the news he’d just brought her—Arden closed her eyes. She didn’t want El Corazon. God, no!
Of course, Conor would never believe her, no matter how many times she tried to tell him. Well, there had to be a way to legally renounce an inheritance. That was the first thing she’d do when she got home, find herself a lawyer an
d have him draw up the papers to—
‘Lord, what a cold-hearted bitch you are!’
Arden’s hands balled into fists. Be calm, she told herself, don’t answer him back, no matter what awful things he says. Just tell him to leave, and after he does—
‘I’ve known a lot of women in my time, but never one as ruthless or as greedy as you!’
She swung around, determined to say nothing, to defend nothing, simply to point to the door and order him out...
Conor was holding an envelope out to her. ‘You dropped this,’ he snarled.
She stared at the envelope as he shoved it into her hand. The blood drained from her face. It had Edgar Lithgow’s name on it—and it was stuffed with American banknotes.
‘Conor.’ Her eyes flashed to his. ‘I can imagine what you’re thinking. But you’re wrong.’
‘No.’ He laughed, and Arden thought she’d never heard a sound like it before. ‘No, sweetheart, I was never wrong, not about you.’ He caught hold of her wrist and drew her forward, until they stood only inches apart. ‘I just wish to hell I hadn’t been so gentle with you the last time we met.’ His lip curled. ‘But then, women like you never get what they deserve.’
Arden felt herself go cold as stone. She stared at him in silence while she fought for control, and then she forced a smile to her lips.
‘You’re wrong,’ she said. ‘Women like me get exactly what they deserve. That’s why I’m going to take everything your uncle gave me.’
She wrenched her arm from his grasp and turned her back to him, furiously blinking back the tears of frustration and despair that threatened to spill from her eyes. Quickly, she slammed her suitcase shut and dragged it from the chair.
‘Where are you going?’ Conor demanded as she reached for the doorknob.
‘To the finca.’ Her voice trembled this time, and she counted silently to ten before she continued. ‘El Corazon is mine now.’
‘You’re ahead of yourself, lady. Felix’s will hasn’t gone through probate yet.’
‘What would you suggest, then? Shall we find a judge and ask him if he thinks Felix Romero would really want his heir to rot in a dingy hotel room while the nephew he despised takes up residence in the house he left to her?’ She looked back at him, her smile glittering like ice. ‘I’ll bet the press would jump on the story with both feet.’
Conor’s face whitened. ‘El Corazon is mine,’ he said harshly. ‘If you think I’m going to let you spend so much as ten minutes there without me to watch you—’
‘It’s a big house,’ Arden said. ‘And I’m a generous woman. You can stay in your old room, Conor—just so long as you keep out of my way.’
She marched from the room with Conor hard on her heels.
The suitcase was heavy but blind anger kept her from feeling its weight until she was halfway down the narrow staircase that led to the lobby. But by the time she reached the front desk, she felt as if she were carrying a load of bricks. Her fingers hurt, her wrist burned, and her arm felt as if it were being dragged from its socket.
And Conor knew it. She could hear his footsteps behind her, hear him whistling tunelessly as she dragged the bag across the floor, but he hadn’t made any offer of assistance.
Well, she thought grimly, that was just fine. She didn’t want anything from him, didn’t need anything from him—it was bad enough they were going to have to ride back to El Corazon together, but what choice did she have except to climb into the vintage Cadillac alongside Conor? Not that she’d have to look at him, once they were inside the car. The limousine was as big as a boat; she could sit in one corner and Conor in the other, and if and when she felt the need to ask a question, she could ask it of Pablo.
The manager peered over the reservation desk, looked at Arden as she lugged the case in his direction, then looked at Conor, still strolling calmly behind her, and his brows rose into his hairline.
‘Buenas tardes, señorita.’
Arden nodded. ‘Good afternoon,’ she panted. With a little groan, she dropped the suitcase to the floor and stepped up to the desk. ‘I’m checking out,’ she said. ‘Here’s my key.’
‘Certainly.’ He took the key from her and cleared his throat. ‘Do you—ah—do you need any assistance, señorita?’
What she needed, Arden thought, was someone to march over to Conor Martinez and punch him in the jaw.
‘If you give me a moment, I’ll get the boy to help you.’
‘She’s managing just fine,’ Conor said pleasantly.
Arden spun towards him. He was lounging against a chair, examining his finger nails.
‘Señorita? Shall I call the boy?’
Conor looked up and their eyes met. ‘On second thought,’ he said with a tight smile, ‘perhaps you should. I suspect the señorita’s going to need all the help she can get.’
The words, Arden knew, had a double meaning. It was a ridiculous challenge—and yet, she found herself rising to meet it.
‘Thank you, señor,’ she said, her eyes still fastened to Conor’s, ‘but it isn’t necessary. I can manage very well on my own.’
She took a breath, grasped the handle of the suitcase, hoisted it up and marched to the front door. It took enormous effort to shove the door open, more effort still to wrestle the luggage out to the pavement, but she managed. She managed, as well, to let the door slam in Conor’s face. It was the one thing that had happened in the past hour that made her smile.
With a gusty sigh, she dropped the bag to the ground and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. The Cadillac wasn’t out front, as she’d expected, but then, this part of the city was fairly crowded with commercial establishments and small shops which made traffic fairly heavy. Pablo had probably had to drive off and circle the block while he waited for Conor to reappear. Arden’s mouth turned down. That was what the rich made their chauffeurs do all the time; she’d seen it happen often enough along Greenfield’s trendy main street back home.
An expensive car would pull to the kerb, a chauffeur would leap out, open the rear door, and a figure would emerge.
‘I’ll be back in an hour,’ he or she would say with a dismissive wave, and the chauffeur would drive off, return dutifully at the appointed time—and then have to circle the block endlessly, waiting for his thoughtless employer to reappear.
Arden lifted the scooped neckline of her dress away from her skin and fanned it lightly back and forth. It was quite warm, far warmer than usual in this city comfortably situated on a mountain plateau. The Cadillac, at least, had air-conditioning. Pablo had offered to turn it on last time he’d taken her to the finca but she’d turned him down, preferring the sweet scents of wildflowers to the smell of artificially chilled air, but this time she’d let him turn it on full blast. In fact, she thought grimly, giving Conor a glance out of the corner of her eye, she’d tell him to turn it on the instant she climbed into the car. She might as well establish who was in charge, right from the beginning...
From the beginning. What had Felix said about beginnings? Something about—about—
‘Have you got your second wind yet?’
She looked up. Conor was looking at her, smiling politely, speaking in that same pleasant, unemotional tone he’d used when he’d spoken to the desk clerk.
Arden’s brows arched. ‘Are you speaking to me?’
‘I must be,’ he said, still pleasantly. ‘I don’t see anybody else here, do you?’
‘Well, then, thank you very much for your interest in my health. But I assure you—’
‘Is that a yes?’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘It’s more of a “none of your business”,’ she said coldly.
He nodded. ‘I see. In that case, I won’t bother about whether or not you can keep up with me, I’ll just set a pace and let you worry about meeting it.’ He stepped away from the building and set off down the street. His gait was not quick but it was steady; in a few seconds, he was several yards away.
‘Hey.’ Arden got to he
r feet. ‘Hey—where are you going?’
Conor turned and looked at her. ‘To the car.’
She stared at him. ‘Isn’t Pablo going to pick us up?’
A smile curved across his mouth. ‘Sure—if you want to wait until he returns from visiting his mother on the coast.’
With that, he turned and began walking. She stared at his retreating figure and then she groaned softly, grabbed her suitcase, and staggered after him.
She kept him in sight for the next few minutes, but after a bit it was impossible to manage. It was easier to walk with her head down, concentrating her energy on putting one foot in front of the other. Left, right, left, right, left—’
‘You damned little fool!’
She looked up, startled, as Conor seemed to materialise out of the air. He snatched the suitcase from her, grasped her by the elbow, and hustled her along beside him.
‘You’ll do anything to infuriate me, won’t you?’
‘Infuriate you?’ Arden gaped at him as she struggled to match his increasingly swift pace. ‘Are you crazy? What does me carrying my suitcase have to do with you?’
‘Everything,’ he snarled.
‘I don’t see how—’
‘Don’t you?’
‘No. No, I—’
‘You’re on your way to El Corazon, not at my invitation but because you somehow convinced my uncle to will it to you.’
‘I did nothing of the sort! And I resent you saying—’
‘I don’t want you there. I don’t even want you on the same planet as I am!’
Arden smiled sweetly. ‘Is Linda as eager for my company as you are?’
‘Linda took her grief to Miami after the funeral,’ Conor said, his words laced with sarcasm.
‘You mean, you and I will be alone?’ she said, her smile fading.
Conor shot her a furious glare. ‘It’s one hell of a romantic thought, isn’t it? You and I, your miserable luggage, driving off into the sunset in my car—’
‘You mean, my car,’ she said coldly.
He looked at her again. ‘What?’
‘The Cadillac belongs to El Corazon. That makes it mine.’ She tried to wrench her arm free of his grasp, but it was impossible. ‘And I did not ask you to carry my suitcase. I didn’t ask you to do anything! I wouldn’t, not if you—what are you doing?’ she demanded as he all but threw her against the side of a dusty, disreputable looking vehicle.
Master of El Corazon Page 9
