STOLEN HEARTS

by Michelle Martin

  Jane took a silver cup from the tray and held it out to Tess. "Do you recognize this, Miss Alcott?"

  Tess took the cup and turned it over in her hands. She suddenly shivered and hurriedly handed it back to Jane. She didn't look at Weinstein. "It doesn't ring any bells," she said.

  Luke stared at her. What sort of game was she playing now?

  "No?" Jane said. "How very odd. It was Elizabeth's favorite. What about this?" she said, holding up a gold bracelet.

  Tess took it and turned it over in her hands a moment. Then she gave it back to Jane. "It's sweet, but I've never seen it before."

  It would have surprised Luke if she had. The bracelet belonged to his sister Hannah. The white teddy bear, which Tess also negatived, had been his brother Joshua's. Luke sighed inwardly as he settled back in his chair to watch the rest of the performance. He had hoped to trip up this newest impostor with these fake mementos, but Tess Alcott was too surefooted for such a trap. It would take more than a bogus teddy bear to catch this thief.

  "What about this one?" Jane said, handing her a brown teddy bear.

  Tess grasped the bear in both hands, its feet resting on the table. She suddenly smiled, as if entranced. "Hello, Fred," she murmured.

  Jane leaned across the small table. "Why do you call it Fred?"

  Tess blinked at the older woman. "I don't know. It just seemed to fit. He's a cute little guy."

  "Elizabeth named that bear after Fred Flintstone."

  "She was a perceptive kid," Tess said, setting it back on the tray. "The resemblance is uncanny."

  Luke bit his lower lip.

  Jane had been winding a brightly painted carousel music box. Now it began to turn and the tinkling music of "All the Pretty Little Horses" filled the room.

  The color drained from Tess's face. She jerked herself to her feet, shaking violently. "Turn that damned thing off or so help me I'll smash it with my bare hands!"

  Luke, Jane, and Weinstein stared at her.

  "Turn it off!"

  Her gaze never leaving the impostor's stricken face, Jane reached out and turned the carousel off. The minute the music stopped, Tess took a great gulp of air and then turned on her heel to stalk to the French doors looking out on the back terrace. She stared out the windows, her arms wrapped around herself.

  "Dr. Weinstein?" Jane said.

  The alleged psychiatrist pushed back his chair and stood up. "I'll see what has upset her." He went across the room to Tess and spoke to her quietly, as if trying to calm her.

  "What just happened?" Jane said in a low voice.

  "I don't know," Luke replied, staring at Tess's rigid back, "but I don't like it."

  "What? Not knowing? Or Miss Alcott's unexpected reaction?"

  "Both."

  Tess turned to them, looped her arm though Weinstein's, and walked back to the table.

  "Sorry about the high flights of drama," she said ruefully. "I told you I don't like horses."

  "That's quite all right, my dear," Jane replied. "It must be stressful for you having Dr. Weinstein telling you one thing and Luke and me challenging you for all you're worth. I daresay a nice long walk around the grounds will do your nerves a world of good. Luke, be a gentleman and give Miss Alcott a tour of the estate. I'm no longer as spry as I was in my youth," she said to Tess, "so I shall remain seated here in quiet splendor and engage Dr. Weinstein in conversation. Psychiatry has always fascinated me, you know, Doctor."

  Luke smiled inwardly. Jane had very neatly boxed up Weinstein, leaving Tess in his clutches to be interrogated within an inch of her life. The day was improving. He rose from his chair.

  "Shall we?" he said to Tess.

  She shrugged. "Why not?"

  * * *

  CHAPTER THREE

  « ^ »

  Luke led Tess out the French doors, across the brick terrace, and down the terrace steps to a broad, closely cropped expanse of blue-green lawn. A multitude of birds calling to each other was the only sound beneath a clear blue sky. To their right and left rose an ancient wood, dark branches arching toward the sun.

  "Lovely, isn't it?" Luke said, stopping beside a magnificent oak that towered above the center of the lawn.

  "I always like to see old money put to good use," Tess replied.

  "This must all seem achingly familiar."

  Tess's smile was wry. "You wouldn't believe me if I agreed with you, Mr. Mansfield, so why even pose the question?"

  "Just trying to find a pattern, Ms. Alcott, in what you do and do not choose to remember," he said, leaning against the tree and folding his arms across his chest. "Take this mighty oak, for example. It's been here for centuries. Elizabeth would have seen it every day of her childhood. Did you?"

  "I told you, I don't remember my childhood.

  "So, where's the swing?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  Tess grinned knowingly at him and pointed to one of the lower, thicker branches. "The metal rings suggest there used to be a swing here."

  Luke gave her a lazy salute. He had to hand it to her, she was the first worthy opponent he had met in a long time. "As it happens, there was a swing here. Elizabeth loved it. John Cushman had it removed after she was kidnapped. He couldn't bear looking at it."

  "Understandable," Tess murmured.

  "Yes. So tell me, Ms. Alcott, just how much of this Return of the Lost Heiress story do you believe?"

  Tess chuckled. "None of it."

  Luke's arms fell to his sides, his hands curling into fists. "Then what the hell are you doing here?"

  Tess cheerfully held up her hands as if to ward off an imminent attack. "Hey, Dr. Weinstein is my psychiatrist. The guy's a genius, everyone says so, including him. Who am I to argue with genius? If he says I'm Elizabeth Cushman, what the hell? I'll play along. My story is that I'm here trying to find my past, and I'm sticking to it."

  "Even though it means hurting an old woman who never did you a moment's harm?"

  "Mr. Mansfield, give the woman some credit," Tess said in disgust. "Jane Cushman doesn't believe me any more than you do. She's tough, she's sharp, and she's enjoying herself. So back off."

  Luke could not recall any woman ever telling him to back off before. "Do you always come across so strong?" he inquired mildly.

  "You're a big boy, Mansfield. You can take it. Look, let's cut the polite chatter," Tess said, her hands on her gently rounded hips. "You and I are adversaries, you've made that clear from the start. You and Jane Cushman are trying to rout me with every teddy bear and cup in my path, Max is pushing me to accept a family I don't believe in, and I'm standing in the middle feeling very much under attack. When I feel like this, I fight back. If you can't take a fair punch to the midsection now and then, you're in the wrong business."

  Luke stalked to within a foot of her. "You will soon find, to your everlasting regret, that I am very much in the right business, Ms. Alcott."

  "Pride goeth before a fall," she murmured, staring up at him.

  Her blue eyes were short-circuiting his brain again. "That cuts both ways, Ms. Alcott," he managed. She barely reached his shoulder. She had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze, her slim throat arched. "You know, I'm curious," he said. "What is a tough, talented, and successful thief like yourself doing with a psychiatrist?"

  Tess stiffened under his gaze and took a step back. "I loathe not remembering the first five years of my life," she snapped.

  "Ah, yes, your alleged amnesia," he said, grateful for the safety of his job. "Tell me, Ms. Alcott, what do you remember thanks to those convenient little hypnosis sessions with Dr. Weinstein?"

  "Such skepticism! Don't you believe in hypnosis, Mr. Mansfield?"

  "Actually, I do. I just don't believe in you. So trot out some memories. Impress me. Convince me. Drench the lawn with your tears."

  "I haven't cried since I was five, Mansfield," Tess retorted with an angry edge to her voice, "so put your handkerchief away. I keep telling you that I remember next to nothing of my childhood
. All I have is a vague recollection of an overly fond Great Dane about three times my size and weight who couldn't see me without bathing me with his tongue. And I remember a woman with red hair calling me Beth."

  She stared out across the lawn and thickly wooded park. "I remember being on a sailboat with a man, although I can't tell you what that man looked like. And I remember being awakened in the dead of night by a man who had his hand over my mouth. That, Mr. Mansfield, is it for five years of living. If you want to know how and when I got my appendix scar, I can't tell you. If you want to know why I called that teddy bear Fred, I can't tell you. If you want to know why I keep seeing a playhouse on this lawn when one doesn't exist, I can't tell you."

  Luke stiffened. "Where do you see the playhouse?"

  Tess pointed to their left. "Over there. It's a miniature Cape Cod cottage with lace curtains and a white picket fence. All I can say is, thank God I'm already seeing Max, otherwise I'd have to find a therapist fast."

  "Not necessarily," Luke said, gazing at the wide, immaculate expanse of lawn. "Elizabeth had a miniature Cape Cod cottage playhouse with lace curtains and a white picket fence."

  And the Cushmans had taken care to keep details of their daughter's life hidden from the public, both before and after her kidnapping. Only the Cushman family and close friends had known about the playhouse, a fifth-year birthday gift to Elizabeth three months before she was kidnapped. It had been demolished after her disappearance, on John Cushman's orders.

  "Are you serious, or just humoring me?" Tess demanded.

  "Of course," Luke said mildly, glancing down at her, "Weinstein could have found out about the playhouse and described it to you."

  "Yes, there is that," Tess cheerfully agreed. "Now, as I recall, you are under orders to give me a tour along with the interrogation."

  "You know, you're absolutely right. Let's go visit the horses," Luke said with malicious delight as he began striding toward the stables.

  Tess trotted up to his side. "You don't usually walk with short women, do you?"

  He glanced down at her and couldn't help but smile. "Was I doing my Paul Bunyan routine again? Sorry. Everyone in my family is tall and, yes, most of the women I date are tall as well."

  "Tall?" Tess scoffed. "That Franklin debutante is a giantess!"

  Luke nearly tripped. "How do you know about Maria?"

  Her smile was serene. "Ah, Mr. Mansfield, I know far more about you than you could ever suspect." Tess climbed gracefully through a white board fence to reach an empty paddock. "When Max told me last week I'd probably be meeting you, I checked you out. The report kept putting me to sleep. You've had the easiest life I've ever studied, Mansfield: the right family, more money than God, the right schools, the right connections, the right jobs, the right clients. Nothing ever seems to go wrong for you. I'm amazed you haven't died of boredom."

  "I like boredom."

  Tess grimaced. "You would."

  "And why would you want to study such a bland life?"

  "I like to know everything I can about an adversary. Keeps me from getting blown out of the water."

  "So this is war?" Luke inquired, climbing over the fence.

  "Oh no, this is merely an interesting little boxing match that will leave one of us with our head bashed in."

  "Not me. I'm very light on my feet."

  "Yes, Mr. Mansfield, but so am I."

  Luke stared down at her, blond curls springing to freedom around her face, blue eyes calm and forthright beneath his scrutiny. Light? Oh yes, small and light. He could lift her easily in his arms and… Don't even think it, Luke ordered himself. Tess Alcott was a fraud bent on hurting his friend and client and Luke had just made it his life's goal to prove it. His back stiff, his face expressionless, he led her to the stables.

  "And what did your night-table reading tell you about me?" he demanded.

  "Oh, let's see," Tess said, looking around the shadowed stable with an excellent imitation of nonchalance, "you are thirty-five and the eldest of four tall children. Your family tree goes back to the Garden of Eden. You took your undergraduate degree at Columbia and your law degree at Harvard, with honors up the wazoo. You were the captain of the Harvard rowing team and might even have made it into the Olympics if you hadn't broken your wrist playing handball. Bad judgment call on your part, if you ask me. Trading handball for the Olympics. Shame on you! You let the team down.

  "You ride well, play a mean game of chess, and carefully avoid any and all romantic entanglements since you ended your engagement to Jennifer Eire twelve years ago. Hence the Giantess. You bowed to family pressure and entered the family law firm to defend the rich and useless against the mighty arm of the law. Prosecuting attorneys have been known to quake in their Hush Puppies when they learn you're the defending attorney. They call you the Grim Reaper." She looked him up and down. "Suitable," she commented. "Last, but not least, you adore Jane Cushman and would willingly slay any and all dragons that come to her door, even half-pints like me."

  "Phew!" Luke said, duly impressed. "How on earth did you come up with so much information?"

  "Mr. Mansfield," Tess intoned, "I am a professional thief. I never reveal my sources. That is why I have known such success in my checkered career."

  "I beg your pardon," Luke said with a reluctant smile.

  They walked down a row of empty box stalls. Only the last two stalls on their right were occupied, one with a chestnut Morgan, the other with a dapple-gray half-Arabian. Each thrust their heads toward Luke, eager for attention and any tidbit he might have brought them. Luke stroked first one and then the other while Tess kept a good five feet away from the stall doors.

  "Eugenie had twenty horses here," Luke said. "Some think she had the best string on the East Coast. When she died, Jane didn't want to maintain such a large stable, so she sold most of the horses and kept these two for her private use."

  "She rides?"

  Luke grinned. "With a passion, despite doctor's orders and Board hysterics, Jane rides." He turned to Tess and laughed. She was looking green about the gills and that reaction couldn't be faked. "You weren't kidding about not liking horses, were you?"

  "I never joke about death, Mr. Mansfield, and those hairy, four-legged monsters behind you are instruments of destruction. I have had a vision and been saved, Hallelujah!"

  Luke could afford to be amused. Since Ms. Alcott didn't like horses, she couldn't be Elizabeth. End of story. He took Tess's elbow and led her away from the stalls. It was the first time he had touched her, the first time he had stood so close to her. It did not seem wise.

  Fortunately, Tess casually pulled herself free to admire a flower bed planted beside the barn and Luke moved several feet in the opposite direction. What in the name of everything holy was wrong with him today? Why, when she stood six feet away, was he inundated with her scent? Had she doctored his tea? Was this some weird conspiracy between Tess Alcott, his brain, and his hormones to keep him from protecting Jane long enough so Tess could steal her blind?

  Keeping a good three feet between them, Luke grimly led Tess on a circular path that provided views of meadows and woods and formal gardens as he ruthlessly grilled her on everything from her criminal career to her French, which she spoke fluently, damn her. The impostor had an answer, a quip, or a solid punch to the midsection for every question he fired at her. By the time they returned to the brick terrace, Luke knew he had a much tougher fight on his hands to protect Jane than he had originally anticipated. He revised his opinion accordingly. Tess Alcott was the most talented and dangerous opponent he had ever faced.

  "Ah, there you are," Jane said, beaming as they returned to the sitting room. "Dr. Weinstein and I have been having the most marvelous chat. My dear Ms. Alcott, would you be so kind as to stay with me for an extended visit, say for two weeks?"

  * * *

  Luke glared at Jane throughout lunch, but it did no good. She chatted with Tess and Weinstein as if they were treasured old friends, warmly pressi
ng their hands when they finally said their good-byes and walked from the house to the doctor's silver Lincoln Town Car.

  "Dammit, Jane, have you lost your mind?" Luke exploded when they were finally alone. "Are you deliberately courting the nice men with white coats and butterfly nets? Inviting Tess Alcott to stay!" He paced the black and white tiles of the Grand Hall with barely controlled fury. "How can you encourage that heartless little fraud?"

  "I think having Miss Alcott here for two weeks will give us an excellent opportunity to study her in more depth," Jane replied mildly, her pale blue eyes lit with amusement as she led him into the living room. She sat down on the white sofa, Luke pacing before her.

  "She will steal you blind!"

  "Nonsense," Jane said. "She's given up that line of work. Weren't you listening?"

  "She may not be stealing art and jewels, but I swear to you, Jane, that she is dead set on stealing Elizabeth's rightful place in your heart, in this house, and in the Cushman fortune!"

  "Actually, thus far she has done everything possible to convince us that she is not Elizabeth, a strategy that I find most fascinating. Now do sit down, Luke, and stop striding about like a lion in heat."

  Luke was startled into a laugh and unbent so far as to sit beside Jane. He took her aged hands in his and forced her to meet his gaze. "I want you to listen very closely, Mrs. Cushman, and pay strict attention to what I am saying: Tess Alcott is a cold-blooded impostor."

  "No, dear, she is almost certainly my granddaughter, Elizabeth."

  Luke's hands clenched Jane's as he stared down into her heavily lined face. "No," he ground out. "You can't be serious. You can't have been won over by a pair of big blue eyes and dimples!"

  "Only partially, dear," Jane replied.

  "My God!" Luke exploded, surging to his feet to pace the floor once again. "Has the world gone mad today? However fascinated you may be by her representation of herself, Tess Alcott is not Elizabeth! She is afraid of horses, she hates the sight and sound of the carousel, she didn't recognize the silver cup, and I strongly doubt that she recognized Fred!"