Deception

by Carolyn Haines

  In the middle of a good stretch, she snatched the covers up to her chin when there was a loud knock on her door.

  “Connor?” Sally’s hesitant voice called to her. “Are you sick?”

  “Not at all. Come on in.” Connor tugged up the sheet to make sure she was proper. She knew the door was unlocked. Clay never bothered to bring his key with him, and she never had the energy to follow him to the door to lock it behind him.

  “Here’s some coffee. Willene said to bring it.” Sally cast her a dubious glance. Her gaze fell on the stubs of the candles that were all over the room, one of Clay’s more romantic touches. She looked away quickly. “You never sleep in, and we were worried and all, and Old Henry came up and said to tell you he’d fed and …”

  “And what?”

  “Mr. Sumner is here to see you.”

  “Who?” Connor looked at Sally. The girl turned away.

  “Dr. Sumner. Clay’s brother, the doctor.”

  “He’s here to see me?” Connor couldn’t connect the chain of events. “Is it about a horse?”

  “Not that I know of. He hates horses and barns and dirt and the country. Dr. Sumner likes the city. He always says how he’d rather live in New Orleans, where people are really civilized.”

  Connor took the tray Sally held and sipped the black coffee. “I’ll be down as soon as I shower and dress.”

  “Dr. Sumner said he would wait. He said he had to talk with you. He’s in the library.”

  “I’ll be down.” Connor took the coffee with her into the bathroom as she turned on the shower. What in the world would Clay’s brother want with her? She had only a vaguely unpleasant impression of him from their first meeting in the barn. Whatever it was, she hoped it wouldn’t take long. She was already far behind on the day. She also wanted to get into Mobile for some Christmas shopping.

  She didn’t bother with any makeup. She bathed, dressed, pulled her hair into an elastic band at the base of her neck, and hurried downstairs. Willene was waiting in the middle of the long hallway.

  “He’s in a vile mood this morning,” she whispered. “He’s a mean man. Watch your step, Connor.”

  The cook’s warnings took Connor by surprise. Willene had a sharp tongue, but there was a hint of real fear in her words. “Thanks. Do you know what he wants?”

  “Not a clue. He came in here and demanded breakfast and a private moment with you. Sally and I told him you weren’t feeling well and were sleeping in, and he ordered her up there to wake you. That devil’s up to something. I can smell it about him. Even when he was a boy he was a bully.”

  Connor looked down the hallway as if she expected him to materialize. “What’s his relationship with Clay?”

  “Oh, Harlan loves his brother.” The sarcasm in Willene’s voice was heavy. She pushed her glasses up her nose. “He loves the fact that Clay may be a United States Senator. He loves the fact that Clay has influence and power. Other than that, Harlan isn’t capable of loving anything or anyone.”

  Connor nodded. “Thanks. Now I’d better see what he wants.” She squeezed Willene’s arm as she passed by and took the right hand turn in the hall that would take her to the front entrance and the library door.

  She tapped lightly and entered. Harlan was standing at the windows, the beautiful lace curtains bunched carelessly in his hand. When he dropped them, deep wrinkles remained.

  “Willene said you wanted to see me.” Connor disliked the way he made her feel, a servant coming for an interview with the master.

  “Feeling bad this morning, Connor? Not enough rest, maybe? Too many nocturnal activities?”

  “I’m fine, Dr. Sumner. Thanks for your concern.” All civility was dropped. Connor had enough of a sixth sense to know to be on the alert. Harlan Sumner was an unpleasant man, and he intended to inflict some of that discontent on her, for whatever reason.

  “You know the South has a way of troubling visitors.” He looked at her fully.

  Connor was struck speechless by the intense power of his eyes. They were so like Clay’s, except where Clay’s eyes held love and humor and joy, Harlan’s were hard, mean, cold, controlling.

  “People move to the South, charmed at first by the easy ways and the open hospitality of the people here. They begin to think about settling here, unaware that there are dangers at every turn. Fevers and diseases, humidity-related passions that are aroused in the blood of true southerners, which no stranger can ever really appreciate or understand.” He smiled. “Are you following me?”

  “Are you claiming to live among diseased people?” Connor widened her eyes in calculated innocense. “How terrible. Is there an epidemic on the way?”

  Harlan’s smile tightened. “You’re not a stupid woman. I know that much. You’re obviously talented at what you do.” His smile shifted. “Very talented to have captured my brother’s fancy. As you no doubt can tell, Clay’s quite an experienced … rider.” The leer was impossible to ignore.

  “What are you getting at?” Connor felt as if something slimy had touched her skin. “Say what you came to say. I’ve got work to do at the barn.”

  “You’re sleeping with my brother, and I want it to end. Clay has a tremendous future in politics. If he’s caught sleeping with someone like you, he’s finished. His first wife was an asset. His second wife will be the same, so don’t get any pie-in-the-sky dreams. Clay won’t sacrifice his brilliant future for a piece of ass. I just thought I’d tell you before you planned the wedding.”

  If Connor had been holding her riding crop, she’d certainly have used it. She could almost feel the savage pleasure of lashing into Harlan Sumner’s mean, bullying face. She clenched her fists at her side. “Your arrogance is exceeded only by your stupidity.” She turned on her heel.

  “I wouldn’t tell Clay I paid this little visit.”

  Connor stopped, hand on the doorknob. She turned back. “I really don’t give a damn what you would or wouldn’t do, Dr. Sumner. And I don’t believe Clay holds your opinion in very high regard—about anything.”

  “Oh, you’d be surprised the things Clay confides in me. I know plenty of Clay’s little secrets. Nasty secrets.” He laughed. “Take the money Clay’s paying you. Fuck him if you have to, but be a little discreet. When it’s time for you to go, pack up and don’t whine.”

  The hair on Connor’s nape lifted as she turned to face the man who stood beside Clay’s chair. “Or?”

  “That’s not a question you really want to learn the answer to,” Harlan said. “There are rules of behavior here in Alabama. We protect our ladies with our lives. Whores don’t fare so well.”

  Connor walked out the door, pulling it closed behind her. She was trembling with fury. Her first impulse was to call Clay. To tell him immediately about Harlan’s visit and his incredibly cruel “warnings.” Using the front door, she walked outside and started down the shell drive to the barn. She was halfway there when the sense that someone was staring at her made her stop and turn around. Renata Sumner stood at the third-floor window. As soon as Connor looked up, Renata smiled, and then the blinds snapped shut. The old house winked at her once again.

  “That little hussy called her uncle,” Connor whispered to herself. She had no proof, but she knew it. Renata had set her up for the encounter. If the child couldn’t frighten her away with strangers in the woods, then she’d called in her uncle. Connor’s heart contracted, a painful moment of acknowledged fear. Renata had seemed so nice at dinner, so sincere in her petitions for forgiveness. All Connor’s hopes that one day Renata would accept her seemed foolish, stupid. The dreams she had for a future with Clay were dust. She wasn’t political. Maybe she’d never be able to accomplish the gracious ease that political wives had to learn to be in the spotlight, to share the cloak of their husband’s power and fame. She was a horse trainer, an unpretentious woman with a dream of her own.

  She continued on to the barn, her thoughts as dark and heavy as they’d ever been.

  “You look like a mangy
dog that just had the shit kicked out of it.” Jeff walked up to her.

  She glared at him but refused to rise to the bait.

  “I hear Dr. Sumner came for a little chat. He give you the old ‘you’re-not-good-enough-for-his-famous-brother’ lecture?”

  Against her will, Connor nodded, her expression a dead giveaway.

  Jeff laughed. “Harlan’s a mean son-of-a-bitch. He doesn’t come here often, but when he does, he likes to stir up as much trouble as possible. He was here the night Talla hanged herself.”

  Connor didn’t understand Jeff’s chatty mood. They’d hardly spoken in the last few weeks. Still, she couldn’t resist questioning him. “Harlan was here the night Talla died? Does Clay know that?”

  “As far as I know, Clay never asked if his brother was here. But I saw Harlan. He’d parked that little red sportscar he loves so much down the driveway. At least two hundred yards from the house, and I know Harlan well enough to know he don’t walk anywhere unless he has no other choice, so I figured he was hiding the car. Didn’t want us here to know he was paying such a late visit up to the main house. Up in Talla’s room.”

  Jeff’s meaning was crystal-clear. The idea of Clay’s brother touching anyone in an intimate way made Connor feel slightly sick. What kind of woman would be attracted to such a bully? Talla, with her fancies for kinky sex?

  As if reading her mind, Jeff spoke. “Ms. Talla liked to live on the edge. That’s what made her such an exciting woman.”

  “I’m sure,” Connor said.

  “Maybe if you’d show an interest in Dr. Sumner, he’d soften up toward you. He don’t like for Mr. Clay to be too selfish.”

  “Harlan Sumner can go screw himself.” The idea was repulsive. It made Connor feel dirty even to think about it. “He’s an ass and a bully.”

  “That’s him.” Jeff laughed. “Scratch the surface of a lot of these rich folks and you find nothing but shit. They all dress nice and talk nice and live fancy, but when it comes down to the nut-cuttin’, they’re just like everyone else.”

  “Not everyone has to sink to the lowest common denominator, Jeff. There are people, rich and not so rich, who expect better of themselves.” Connor knew she sounded like a prudish schoolmarm.

  “Like you, I suppose?” Jeff asked lazily. “I mean, the reason you’re sleeping with Mr. Clay doesn’t have anything to do with his money or his house, or his land, or his horses and the things he can give you, now, does it?”

  “My personal life is none of your business, but if it’s such a concern of yours, I’ve never slept with anyone for what they could give me. You might find the concept difficult, but sex isn’t a bartering tool where I come from.” She started toward the barn. “We need another three hundred pounds of feed. Two hundred at fourteen percent and one hundred at twelve. Could you pick it up this afternoon?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jeff mocked her. “Before you can blink an eye.”

  Connor kept walking. If in the future she had any say-so at Oaklawn, Jeff Helveston would be looking for another job. He was an unpleasant man with a rotten attitude.

  Based on what she was learning, Connor had begun to develop her own theories of Talla Bienville Sumner. The woman might have impeccable family ties and genes, but she also had a taste for the masochistic. If Jeff wasn’t blowing smoke and he really had been one of her lovers, and if he was right about Harlan, then Talla had liked men with a wide mean streak. She’d married for power and position and opted to pick up her other needs on the side.

  In the long term, what did that mean for Renata? The child was manipulative, and very smart. Had she learned it at her mother’s knee? It was a depressing thought. Connor checked the horses. The day was off to a late and terrible start. She opened the doors to their paddocks, allowing them out into the December sunshine. Instead of barn work, she decided to drive into town and do some shopping for Christmas. She needed the time away, time to think.

  As she was getting ready to get in the truck, she thought of calling Richard Brian. It was ten o’clock Mobile time, which meant it would be seven in Los Angeles. If she was lucky, she’d catch Richard before he went to his gym.

  She tossed her keys on the truck seat just as Renata and Danny came up.

  “Can we ride?” Danny asked. Renata looked innocently at Connor.

  “The ban on riding has been lifted, but I still expect you to do the work I said. The stalls need to be cleaned, Danny, and Renata, get to work on the paddock fence. Jeff can get the paint and a brush for you.”

  “Then can we ride?” Renata asked.

  There was no trace of malice in the child’s eyes, none in the curve of her soft lips.

  “Sure. Work for about an hour and then you can ride. Be back by one so Willene won’t have to wait lunch. And no galloping, okay?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” both children answered in unison. Laughing, they ran toward the barn. Danny disappeared inside, and in a moment Renata had Jeff buttonholed.

  Connor considered driving on into town, but she wanted to catch Richard. If she waited, he’d be gone for the day and might not return for hours. Possibly days, if he was on location.

  In her office she walked to the big window that looked out on the arena. Renata, her dark curls gleaming in the sun, was dripping paint all over the ground, but she was getting some on the fence. There was a look of determination on her face as she plied the brush, but no sign of resentment or anger.

  Connor picked up the phone and dialed Richard’s number, feeling as if she was calling up another planet or another lifetime. Had it really been only a little over three months ago that she’d lived in California? It seemed like an eternity.

  “Who the hell is calling so early in the morning?” Richard’s voice was gruff, still filled with sleep.

  “What? No workout? No run? Have you got someone in bed with you?”

  “Connor?” All sleepiness left Richard’s voice. “Where the hell are you?”

  “In your home state of Alabama.” She tried out her drawl and was rewarded with Richard’s laugh.

  “You sound like you’re adapting. I’ve enjoyed your letters.” There was a pause. “Is everything okay?”

  “And why wouldn’t it be?” she asked.

  “Don’t tell me you’re calling because you suddenly realized what a terrible mistake you’d made by throwing me over as the love of your life!”

  “I do miss you, Richard.” And she did. Connor had made friends with Willene and Sally, on a certain level. But she missed her California friends, her peers. She hadn’t really gotten to know any other horse people in Alabama. Or anyone else, for that matter, except people who had business at Oaklawn.

  “How are things in the humid South?”

  “Not so humid. A bit on the cold side. How about you?”

  “Fine. I got a part, more than a bit, but certainly not a starring role, in a new Clint Eastwood western. I’m telling you, Connor, those riding lessons were the best investment I’ve ever made.”

  Connor laughed, delighted at Richard’s good fortune. Given half a chance, he’d make it big in the movie business. He worked really hard, and he was talented. “That’s wonderful. Good guy or bad?”

  “Guess.”

  “Let’s see, if there’s a romantic angle, you’re the bad guy with the heart of gold.”

  “Hey!” Richard sounded indignant. “How’d you get a copy of the script?”

  “I’m pretty darn good at typecasting.”

  They shared a laugh, the last chuckles dying away into silence.

  “What’s wrong, Connor?” Richard finally asked. “Nothing, really.”

  “Your voice says a lot is wrong. You’re not involved with Clay, are you?”

  Connor hesitated. “As foolish as this is going to sound to you, I think I’ve fallen in love with him.”

  “Despite all my warnings?” Richard sounded more resigned than distressed.

  “Despite your warnings and my common sense.”

  “I had a fe
eling that this was inevitable. Clay has just the right mixture of power and sensitivity to attract you. Does he care for you, too?”

  “Yes.” Connor swallowed. She felt as if she was making some kind of confession. Her throat was thick with emotion. “What can you tell me about Clay’s brother, Harlan?”

  “Harlan the prick.” Richard laughed but it held no hilarity. “He used to torment the piss out of me and Clay. He’d do everything he could to hurt us. Not just kidding around, but really hurt us. He was mean, and pretty smart. When he told us he was going to be a doctor, my first concern was for his patients.”

  “He doesn’t sound very pleasant.”

  “Wait a minute,” Richard said slowly, “don’t tell me. Harlan has discovered you’re involved with Clay, and he’s paid you a visit warning you away from the political future of Alabama. He sees you as a spoiler for Clay’s ambitions. I mean you’re an independent woman, a creature with a mind and a talent. No one in that cesspool of a state could possibly accept a man who found happiness with an intellectually stimulating piece of ass. Am I headed in the right direction?”

  Connor was grinning despite her worry. Richard had a way of phrasing things that made even the worst situations seem mildly ridiculous. “That pretty much hits the nail on the head.”

  “Ah, yes, good old Harlan. He wants to ride Clay’s coattails to power. He’s too lazy, and too worthless, to get anything on his own. He’s waiting for Clay to do all the work.”

  “Does Clay know that? I mean, if Harlan went to Clay, would Clay know what his brother is up to?”

  “Beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

  Connor sighed. “That makes me feel slightly better, I guess. Harlan came here this morning, and he really jumped on me.”

  “Then he told you not to tell Clay he’d been there, right?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Typical bully tactics. Tries to frighten you away, but doesn’t want to take the heat from Clay for prying into his personal affairs.”

  “What should I do?” Connor asked. “I really love him, and I love him enough to leave if I’d really spoil his chances at a Senate seat.”