Beyond Eden

by Catherine Coulter

  “No. Not until we’ve straightened some things out between us. It isn’t fair to me, Lindsay.”

  She looked at him then, really looked, saw his rumpled dark hair, the dark stubble on his face, the intensity of his eyes, and something else. She saw concern for her. It was real.

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m a millionaire, Taylor. A multimillionaire.”

  He cocked his head to the side.

  “My grandmother skipped my father and my older half-sister. I got the mansion and the bulk of her estate. I was also my mother’s only heir. Actually, my grandmother gave them all a million dollars, but that’s considered pig dung and they’re all ready to kill me off.” She shuddered. “It was awful.”

  “Come here, Lindsay.”

  She looked at him, saw him pat his thighs, and he said again, “Come here.”

  She did. She sat on his thighs and he held her very close. She didn’t cry. The tears were too deep, too well buried, even from Taylor.

  “Do you want to tell me about it?”

  “My father dislikes me. He always has. I’ve known it for a very long time. When the lawyer read my grandmother’s will, and my father realized what she’d done, he turned on me. It was awful. His wife, Holly, was screaming and carrying on and he was as he always is—cold and ruthless and endlessly cruel. Odd, my half-sister didn’t join in the fray. And she’s very good at it. But she held herself in—why, I don’t know. Then the lawyer—his name is Grayson Delmartin—he told me about my mother’s will. I have a trust fund that’s primarily in stocks that supplements my income, but nothing like this, Taylor, nothing at all like this. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Do you think your father will contest the will?”

  “He was so furious, he disowned me. But he won’t follow through with it because Mr. Delmartin told him if he did that he would have no moral or legal claim on any of my estate were I to die before he did.”

  “He sounds charming, Lindsay.”

  “Why does he hate me so much, Taylor?”

  “Perhaps if you told me more I could come up with some kind of an answer.”

  “He’s always given everything to my half-sister, Sydney. She’s nine years older than I am and she’s always been perfect—beautiful, terrifyingly intelligent, she’s got a law degree from Harvard—and she married an Italian prince. Now, of course, she’s here and—”

  Taylor waited. Damnation, she’d been talking, but it was over, she’d pulled back again, and he hated it.

  “Why did your grandmother leave you her estate, do you think?”

  “I don’t know. I know she was immensely proud of Sydney. Perhaps she’d begun to think her son—my father—wasn’t what she thought he was, I don’t know. My father and his wife, Holly, lived at the mansion with her for the past two or three years.” She paused a moment, looking at the fancy coffeemaker that Taylor had brought to the apartment. “I do realize some of it, I think. She wanted to arm me against my father, against Sydney, she wanted me to be powerful, and money was the only way she knew. But, you know, I realized that there was another kind of power that has nothing to do with money.”

  He held her even more closely, waiting, but she said nothing more. “What is your full name, Lindsay? You’re going to marry me. I want to know my future wife’s name.”

  Her mouth opened, the words hovered. Power. Yeah, she had loads of power. But Paris, what the prince had done to her. Tears pooled in her eyes and she shook her head against his shoulder. “I can’t, Taylor. It’s too awful, believe me—too awful. Please, just give me more time.”

  “Are you really very, very rich?”

  “Yes, very very.”

  “What the hell are we going to do about that?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Is that what made you want to throw me down and ravish me at the airport?”

  Withdrawal, but not completely, no, there was more uncertainty there, and he waited. “What happened, Lindsay? What brought you to me?”

  He wondered if she had any idea, and said aloud, “The final show of dislike from your father? The understanding that you didn’t want him to dominate you anymore? A sort of liberation?” Jesus, he thought, idiot words out of his mouth. He wasn’t a shrink and he shouldn’t be playing with the words. But he knew she was the girl Dr. Gruska had spoken about. The whole father thing—but seduction? He didn’t know, and he was terrified to speculate.

  “Perhaps. I thought about you, and only you, focused on you, I guess, because I didn’t want all the horrible scenes at the mansion to eat away at me. I wanted you even before I saw you. All I could think about was you. And when I saw you standing there, looking so sane, so reasonable, and warm, and you wanted me and didn’t hate me, I guess—I don’t know.”

  “Lindsay?”

  “Yes?”

  “Don’t leave me. Don’t run away from me again. Whatever disturbs you, whatever frightens you, just don’t leave me. Talk to me, or just sit and stare at me. Even turn your back on me. Just don’t run. I love you and together we can work it out. Could you try to believe that?”

  Silence.

  “I’ll even let you buy me a hot dog down at the museum to celebrate your new wealth.”

  She pulled back in the circle of his arm. She looked at him, saying nothing, and then she smiled. “Okay, I won’t run out on you. It’s time to stop that, isn’t it? I’m not a stupid kid anymore, something I’ve told myself a lot lately. No, not a kid who can be kicked around and carved to the bone with cruel words. No, I’m an adult now, and adults are supposed to think calmly and to exercise power over themselves.”

  “Amen,” he said, not quite certain what she meant.

  But that Saturday afternoon, after they’d come back from running in the park, Taylor was to learn that life had a way of always serving up new and varied and perverse dishes on one’s plate.

  18

  Taylor was in the shower, having beaten Lindsay in the coin toss over who’d be first. The other bathroom in this magnificent, very old-fashioned apartment held an old claw-foot tub and as yet they hadn’t hung a shower curtain around it. Neither of them wanted to sit in his own running sweat.

  He was happy, and whistling and scrubbing, feeling better than he’d felt in his life. Unfortunately, he had his father’s voice, but who cared? He soaped up and grinned, feeling real hope for the first time. Lindsay was engaged to him and she’d opened up and given herself to him. He’d had the greatest sex in his life, and that had been the biggest surprise of all.

  In truth, Taylor had doubted his sex life would ever be the same again. He’d pictured, in grimmer moments, a willing but terrified Lindsay in bed, trembling when he touched her, lying stiff and cold, suffering him, enduring. It had chilled his blood. But last night—

  He came out of their bedroom still whistling, dressed in tight jeans and a dark blue turtleneck sweater. He walked toward the living room because he heard a woman’s voice. He thought it was probably Gayle Werth.

  He was on the point of coming into the room when he saw, not Gayle, but a stunning woman dressed in black leather that fitted her perfect body perfectly. She was standing in front of Lindsay, who was seated, looking for the world like a disobedient schoolchild being berated by the mistress. He couldn’t help himself. He stopped and he listened.

  “ . . . oh, yes, Lindsay,” the woman was saying in a sweet voice that made his blood curdle, “Father still wants your head. He thought—as he made perfectly clear—that you were a malicious, evil little slut. But you heard him. He rather lost it, unfortunately. However, I think he’s willing to reconsider his opinion of you if you do what you should, if you do what is right, and that is, of course, to reverse the inheritance. The money should have gone to him and you know it. He’s not sure you’ll ever understand, which is why I’m here speaking for him. I told him you would come about when you’d had time to think about it. I told him you were very upset by Grandmother
’s death, and your mother’s, of course, and it was clouding your judgment. I told him not to underestimate you, Lindsay. You aren’t stupid, I told him. You aren’t selfish and greedy. You would do what is right, what is just.”

  There was complete silence for several moments. Taylor knew he should come into the living room, knew he should end this, but he didn’t move, not yet. He heard Lindsay say, vague puzzlement in her voice, “But you didn’t say much, Sydney, just something about deep waters. And now you’re here as Father’s emissary. You’re here as his lawyer.”

  “Yes, to put it baldly. More than that, I’m here as his daughter and your sister. I’m here to try to mend fences and make you see reason. You know how proud Father is. It’s difficult for him to bend, to modify his beliefs.” She paused a moment and laughed. “You should have stayed just awhile longer. Delmartin phoned after he left you at the airport and told Holly that she wasn’t to touch the house or else there would be swift legal action. The silly bitch was howling with rage. It was very diverting. I enjoyed watching her drink herself into a whining stupor. Father is already talking about sending her on her way. She’s a drag on him now. He can’t count on her at social functions because of her drinking. And all the weight she’s gained—she looks like a blimp. No, it won’t be long now before Holly is gone. But our father, Lindsay, that’s different now. He’s what’s important. It’s his money and he must have it. As I said, he doesn’t think you’ll be reasonable, but I told him I know you better and you would be. You love him and you won’t want to hurt him, not like Grandmother did.”

  “You want me to sign all my inheritance over to him?”

  “Oh, keep some of it, certainly, but the bulk should go to Father. Don’t you agree? He was next in line, after all. Moreover, you will still have your mother’s money. What is that? About five million or so?”

  “Am I to keep a million dollars of Grandmother’s money?”

  “Why not? It’s not really an insult to you, just to Father.”

  “Won’t Father believe I’m a selfish slut if I do?”

  “I’ll speak to him. I’ll make him understand.”

  “Do you really think I could buy his love by giving him all Grandmother’s money?”

  “Don’t be a fool, Lindsay. He loves you. It’s just that he came to despise your mother, and unfortunately, that spilled over onto you. But now, why, yes, I think he would certainly come to look at you differently were you to do what is right now.”

  “It seems strange to think of him behaving any differently toward me now.”

  “He would. I promise you that. Will you sign the papers? I brought them with me.”

  “Shouldn’t Grandmother’s wishes count in this? Don’t you believe she should have the right to do whatever she pleased with her money? It wasn’t Father’s, it was hers.”

  “He is—was—her only son. Her money is his, by right, by blood, by what is ethical and just. Now, here are the papers. They’re very straightforward. I worked with the lawyer myself so that you could understand them. Will you sign the papers now, Lindsay?”

  Taylor wanted to rush in, but again he stopped himself. This was Lindsay’s problem, her decision. She sounded perfectly calm, so calm in fact that it worried him a bit. He waited, nearly holding his breath.

  And she said then, in that same very calm voice, “I don’t think so, Sydney.”

  “Now, you listen to me, Lindsay, I won’t put up with any of your—” But Sydney didn’t finish. She turned as she spoke, to see a gorgeous man standing in the living-room doorway. A man she’d never seen before. She saw that he was fresh from the shower. He looked tough and lean and hard, just the sort of man she enjoyed. Dark and rugged. She realized with a shock that he lived here, lived with her sister, and it astounded her, made her feel like she was in the wrong apartment. Sydney couldn’t accept it. There had to be a mistake, the man had to be the electrician or something. Lindsay wouldn’t let a man within six feet of her, particularly not a man like this one. This man was dangerous. He’d take what he wanted. Jesus, this man would make mincemeat out of Lindsay. It was then that Sydney noticed for the first time the brilliant diamond on Lindsay’s finger. An engagement ring. An incredibly beautiful engagement ring. She couldn’t take it in. There had to be some mistake. There had to be another explanation.

  “My God! Who is this, Lindsay?”

  Lindsay whipped about to see Taylor, smiling at her, looking questioningly toward Sydney. She tried to smile. She tried to make the muscles move, and they did a bit, making the smile a travesty. She’d wanted to keep Taylor away from Sydney, and when her half-sister had come in, she’d known, deep down, that it wouldn’t be possible. Very well, then. She said mildly, “This is my fiancé, S. C. Taylor. Taylor, this is my half-sister, Princess Sydney di Contini.”

  “Taylor,” Sydney repeated, staring at the man. She was shaking her head as she said, “Are you really engaged to Lindsay? No, come on now, it’s a joke, right? What are you doing here? Are you here to fix the heating? Are you gay? Is that why Lindsay let you stay here?”

  Lindsay heard the absolute incredulity in Sydney’s voice. She’d even called Taylor gay to try to justify his presence to herself. It was too much. What would he do? What would he say? She looked from Taylor to her sister, who was regarding him in helpless wonder, looking so beautiful that no man could resist her. She felt jealousy, ugly and deep, knife through her. Was it really so absurd a notion that a man could be engaged to her? Yes, it was.

  Now Sydney was staring at Taylor, her hand held out to him, her body leaning forward, that soft invitation in her expression. Taylor, to Lindsay’s relieved astonishment, looked at the vision who was Sydney and merely nodded. “Lindsay’s half-sister? A pleasure, ma’am.”

  “Ma’am? What a horrid thing to call me. Like I’m an old bag or something equally distasteful.”

  Taylor merely continued his slow perusal, and Sydney, unnerved, looked toward Lindsay, who was looking for the world as if someone had slapped her silly. She looked confused and vague and stupid. “Wherever did you two meet each other? And why didn’t you say anything about him, Lindsay? I was with you yesterday, for goodness’ sake.”

  Taylor said easily, “Why don’t you sit down? Since you’re her half-sister, I guess it’s okay to tell you that I met Lindsay on a job a couple of months ago. I was hired to protect her. Now I protect her for free.”

  “You’re a kind of bodyguard? Well, I should have guessed that. Just look at you, after all. Did you become engaged after you found out she was so very rich, Taylor? This all came about last night?”

  “No, Sydney, it didn’t just come about,” Taylor said and smiled at her.

  Sydney knew with sudden insight that she’d made a very big mistake. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Sydney,” he said in that mild voice, as if she wasn’t worth yelling at. “I can see that you’re excellent at what you are. You man all your gun ports, firing at random. An interesting approach. I wouldn’t employ it myself, but perhaps you’ve found over the years that it tends to work. Those occasional hits must be pretty destructive to the enemy.”

  “You’re being quite silly,” Sydney said, but Lindsay saw that she was looking a bit wary now. How could Taylor know about Sydney? She’d never said a word about her. Yet he knew, he recognized what she was.

  Sydney continued quickly, “Lindsay wasn’t wearing an engagement ring in San Francisco. If you were indeed already engaged to her, then why wasn’t she wearing the ring?”

  Lindsay said, “I took it off because I didn’t want any questions. We were all there for the funerals, not celebrations and congratulations.”

  Taylor wished she’d worn the damned ring. She’d been too afraid to own up. She’d been too afraid of the attacks, the questions, the mocking. He wondered how long it would take to change that.

  “But there was so much more, wasn’t there, Lindsay? Have you told Taylor exactly how wealthy you really are?”

  “Look, Sydney, I’m sweat
y and tired and I imagine that you have lots to do. When are you going back to Milan? When is Father expecting to hear from you?”

  Sydney didn’t immediately answer. She was staring at Taylor, frowning. “Did you say you were protecting Lindsay?”

  “That’s right.”

  “Are you a private investigator?”

  “That’s right, among other things.”

  “My God, you’re Valerie’s Taylor!”

  Taylor felt the big punch right in his gut. He wished this damned woman would just shut her mouth, get up and leave, but he knew it wasn’t to be. No, he was about to be pinned.

  Again his voice was mild, bland with disinterest. “You know Valerie Balack? I’m not really surprised. The two of you are really quite similar. I dated Valerie for a while there, nothing more, nothing less.”

  But Sydney was staring at him and he knew at that moment that she and Valerie shared confidences and he’d been one of the confidences. His performance? Both in and out of bed?

  Sydney sent a sideways glance at Lindsay, who was standing now to Taylor’s left, stiff as a cane. She smiled, a pitying smile that made Taylor want to smack her. “Perhaps I should introduce Lindsay to Valerie. The two of them could compare notes. Women enjoy doing that, you know. Valerie was always impressed with your endurance, that, and your ability to bring—Well, never mind that. What do you think, Lindsay?”

  Lindsay stepped forward now and Taylor had no idea what would come out of her mouth. She said again, “I’m very tired, Sydney. I would like to take a shower. Are you here simply to make me change my mind? If you wish, you can leave your legal papers here. I will read them and think about it. Could you leave now?”

  “You are smelling sweaty, Lindsay, and you do look on edge with your hair plastered against your head. But, my dear sister, your fiancé here and this whole business with Valerie—”

  “What Taylor did with whom before we met is his business. It doesn’t matter to me. Get on with it, Sydney. Do you have anything else to say? Do you want to leave the papers?”