by Brenda Joyce
His gaze suddenly settled on her mouth, disconcerting her. He nodded, turned abruptly, and left.
Regina leaned back against the pillows. There was no doubt about it. She was hurt again, hurt that he could so easily dismiss her, not just from Miramar, but from his life.
Despite her best intentions, she soon saw that it would take more than an hour for her to pack her belongings, much of which had been unpacked for her by an unknown maid, perhaps Lucinda, and for her to dress. She did not like the thought of Lucinda going through her things. She was also reminded of the fact that someone had gone through her luggage once before-but not to unpack it-at the hotel in Templeton.
Her physical condition slowed her down. Because of the many blisters on her feet, she now limped. And all of her muscles were stiff and sore; apparently she was unused to the amount of exertion she had endured the day before. Very honestly, if she had a choice, she would sink back into bed and not get out all day.
At one-thirty she decided she did have a choice. She did not like being rushed. She was fatigued, physically and mentally. She needed another day of rest, at least. Dear Lord, it seemed like ages ago, but it had only been the day before yesterday that she had lost her memory. She did not look forward to confronting Slade, but the sooner she told him she would not leave today, the sooner she could relax. Moving somewhat awkwardly, she crossed the courtyard, apprehensive about his reaction, guessing it would be too eloquent. He was not the kind of man to mince words when he was angry.
Her steps soon slowed. She could hear Rick's voice raised in anger. Although she knew she should go back, she continued to approach, more cautiously. As she came closer her suspicion was confirmed; Slade was the other participant in the argument being waged. It was impossible not to hear what they were fighting about now, and she became as still as stone.
"You go out of your way, don't you, just to get my dander up!" Rick roared.
"I haven't gone out of my way for you in years," Slade responded flatly.
"But you had to volunteer to take her back now!"
"Looks like I'm the only sane one around here."
"Like hell. You don't care if she goes or stays. You just want to piss me off."
"You flatter yourself if you think I do anything because of you."
They were in the dining room. Regina could see the two of them standing on opposite sides of the trestle table, squared off the one against the other. She decided in that moment to turn around and flee.
But Slade said, "She wants to leave. She wants to leave so bad she ran away, got thrown from a horse, and walked her feet raw. But you know what? At least she's smart. At least she's got you figured out."
"Maybe she's got you figured out!" Rick shot back.
"Maybe," Slade agreed calmly.
Regina was nearly disbelieving. She was stunned to see a son slur his father so, and a father attack his son even more strongly. How could they throw such painful stones at each other? And she was angry. She was angry at Rick, recalling how, at the hotel in Templeton, he had accused Slade of laziness; then, when Slade was gone, he'd dropped his armor and revealed the love he kept so carefully hidden.
Both men had seen her. Regina's anger turned to embarrassment and she wished she were anywhere but there. Now they were silent, watching her.
"You ready?" Slade said brusquely.
She had no choice but to enter the dining room. Once inside she could see them clearly. Rick had relaxed and was regarding her in a friendly manner-as if he had not just been engaged in a violent verbal battle with his son. But Slade wasn't relaxed. He sat on one of the studded leather dining chairs, but he looked as if he might explode from it like a cannonball at the slightest provocation. His dark gaze made her unaccountably nervous.
"Mornin'," Rick greeted her.
"Good morning," Regina said politely to both men. But she felt like giving Rick a good tongue-lashing, which he could use. It was up to parents to set a good example for their children, and the example he was setting did not fall anywhere near that category.
"You ready?" Slade asked again. "We have just enough time for you to eat something if you're hungry-"
Her anger boiled over at Slade now. She faced him, her eyes flashing. "No, I am not ready. Not only am I not ready, my feet are so raw I can barely walk. I have come to tell you that I am not leaving this afternoon. This afternoon I am going to rest."
Rick flung a look of triumph at Slade and moved toward her. "Come on, Elizabeth, sit down, have some breakfast. You don't have to leave at all. And we had better have the doc out to tend to your feet."
Regina recovered her senses, remembering that this man had lied to her; still very aware of how he had been fighting with Slade, she whirled. "That’s quite all right. I have tended to myself; thank you for your concern." Her words were very clipped and precise because of her anger, but she did not raise her voice even a decibel.
Rick's expression was hangdog. "You're mad."
She lifted a brow.
"Look, I don't blame you, but its not fair for you to be mad at me without even hearing my side of things."
"I would like an explanation. I do not believe I am used to being deceived."
Slade stood, almost knocking over his chair. "You're making a big mistake," he told her.
She looked at him. He stood before her, a relentless and volatile force, tension seething about him so hotly it was almost visible. "I'm only going to talk with your father. He owes me some honesty."
Slade was angry. He looked at Rick. "Just how honest are you going to be with her? Don't you think you can give her a break? She doesn't even know who she is, for Christ's sake. Leave her alone."
Regina was stunned-Slade was trying to protect her from Rick.
"You stay out of this, boy," Rick said tightly. "This is between me and her. An' don't think I've forgotten for a second that she's got that amnesia."
"Slade," Regina said, touching his arm. She gave him a warm aching smile. "I'll be fine."
"Like hell."
"Give me a chance," Rick cajoled her.
Regina turned toward him. "All right."
Rick took her arm. He glanced darkly at Slade. "You're not invited. We all know where you stand."
"No," Slade said.."No one knows where I stand!" He strode from the room.
Regina didn't have a chance to watch him go or to call after him. Rick was guiding her into the corridor. "Let's go to my study where we can have some privacy," he said.
He was smiling and friendly. He seemed so genuine that Regina had to remind herself that this man was not as he appeared. She had to remind herself that he had lied to her, that he had attempted to use her.
His study was cool and dark. Rick closed the heavy redwood door behind them and led her to a leather easy chair. He sat opposite her behind his desk. "I wish you'
d come to me first, before trying to leave like you did, in the middle of a storm," he said.
"I was angry."
Rick shook his head ruefully. "I guess I don't blame you."
"You lied to me," Regina said coolly.
"I didn't lie to you. I just didn't tell you everything," Rick said.
"I fail to see the difference."
"There is a difference, a big difference. Your father and I did grow up together, and you can ask anyone around here if you must. We arranged the marriage between you and James because we both wanted it. George wanted you to be mistress of Miramar, and he wanted your son to be the boss."
"And you wanted my money."
"I won't lie. I didn't lie. We need your money, Elizabeth. We're cash-poor. Most big spreads like this are cash-poor. It's not unusual and if s no secret. Just like it's nothing to be ashamed about. But we're land-rich. And we're rich in cattle, horses, and heritage." Rick's eyes snapped with excitement. "Money can buy land like this, but not the tradition, the heritage, the past that goes with it. But it sure as hell can buy the future. Yes, we need some cash. But look at what you're getting!"
Regina followed Rick's bright gaze, thinking that father and son had so much in common in the love they shared for Miramar. She looked out the open doors of the terrace to the south, at the jagged line of starkly gold, treeless, imposing mountains where they painted a sharp line against the vivid blue sky. Directly ahead of her, the hillside sloped down, disappearing when it collided abruptly with the Pacific. And to her right, pines pointed at the sky. The view was breathtaking. She couldn't help but agree with Rick. He was right. Money could buy a lot of things but it couldn't buy a home like this. Regina doubted there were two such places in existence in all of God's creation.
"Honey," Rick said, smiling, "I may want cash, but that doesn't mean you're not family to me. George was like my brother-like the brother I never had. You're his daughter. And James loved you. He was my son, my first child. Your welfare is important to me. How could it not be?"
Regina tore her gaze from the splendor that was Miramar and looked at him, filled with conflicting needs. She didn't really want to leave. And there was no question that she found Miramar very appealing. Right now she was a woman without a home or a past, and the idea of finding that here was very seductive. Yet the instinctive need to protect herself balanced the scales. But why should she think he was lying? Caring about her and needing money were not mutually exclusive propositions. Not necessarily. Not when one considered the entire set of circumstances, not when one considered the history between Rick Delanza and George Sinclair.
Rick smiled. "Is it so wrong to hope you and Slade might like each other and want to marry? Is it so wrong for me to want to bring you into the family as George and I intended? Slade is now my heir. He's fighting that, because he plumb likes to fight me, but he'll do his duty, you wait and see."
"Meaning he'll marry me?" Her tone was calm, but inwardly her heart had skittered.
"I didn't exactly mean that," Rick said, leaning back comfortably in his chair. "I meant he'll inherit Miramar. Like he should. Of course, I hope he'll come around and want to marry you. But I can't force him to it, just like I can't force you."
Regina tried very hard to be calm. She tried very hard not to let his words sway her. She tried very hard not to think about the possibility that she and Slade might eventually "like each other and want to marry."
"I still want you to stay here, Elizabeth, until you recover, anyway, and maybe by then you'll decide you want to stay-maybe you'll decide my son isn't so bad. God knows, there's lots of women who would give their right arms just for the chance to marry Slade."
Regina's hands were trembling, and she clasped them firmly so Rick wouldn't see. She could well imagine that most women would take one look at Slade and do just about anything he asked.
Slade was filling her thoughts. But suddenly she sensed the presence of another man, someone who seemed intent on struggling up through the depths of her mind. She tensed. For an instant his image was there, but it was dark and shadowy and unformed. Then it disappeared, and she wondered if her mind was playing tricks upon her, if she had been about to remember someone at all. Yet if she had, had it been James?
"What is it?" Rick asked sharply, peering at her.
She touched her throbbing temple. "I think I was about to remember something, someone, but then it disappeared. Yesterday the same thing happened."
"Well, that's just great!"
Regina barely heard him. Yesterday, she was almost positive, she had been about to remember someone else. Was her memory trying to return? She could not contain the hope swelling in her breast. And then it occurred to her that if she had loved James, when her memory returned so would that love. She grew very still.
"As soon as you remember something, you tell me," Rick was saying. "The sheriff wants to speak with you when you do remember, even if it's still hazy."
Regina was motionless. The excitement was not only gone, now there was fear in her heart instead. Some things were definitely better left unrecalled.
Her fear must have shown, because Rick leaned across the desk and patted her hand. "Don't you worry none about the sheriff. It's just routine."
It wasn't the sheriff she was worrying about. She was worrying about how she would feel about James when she recovered from this mental lapse. And when she did recover, what would happen to her relationship with Slade?
"So?" Rick smiled. "You gonna accept some old-fashioned hospitality?"
Regina looked at him. She fought for a smile. Suddenly there was comfort in the fact that her memory had yet to return, forestalling what might be a horrible dilemma. "Yes, I will stay."
Rick beamed. His smile was so hearty that Regina had to smile back.
Chapter 9
Rick closed the door to his study, thinking about the girl. He had concluded his interview with Regina Shelton a few moments ago, convincing her to stay.
He heaved a sigh of relief. It had been a close call. Close, but not fatal. Slowly he smiled, hands clasped behind his back, staring out the wide-open windows and across the sloping hillside. The sweep of saddleback mountains in the south and the expanse of steel-gray ocean in the west never failed to thrill him. Pride swelled his chest as he regarded the land that was Miramar, that was his, and that would one day be Slade's.
Thinking of Slade made him grim, and in the next heartbeat, he thought of James. Pain crashed over him. It would never go away, he knew that. It was worse than anything he'd ever experienced, and he'd been through a hell of a lot. His first wife had died in childbirth, and although that had been an arranged marriage, he'd been fond of her, and no woman deserved such an untimely death. Catherine had been the only gentlewoman in his life; neit�
�her Pauline, Slade's mother, nor Victoria, deserved such an appellation.
It occurred to Rick that Regina Shelton was also a gentlewoman, and that she reminded him of Catherine.
Catherine's death had only been the beginning of the series of personal tragedies besetting him in his lifetime. He and his father had been running the rancho together until a heart attack had struck his father, leaving him alive but paralyzed and incapable of speech. Rick had loved his father, but that day his father had seemed to die, leaving only a shell of a man in his place. He had watched him physically waste away over the course of two long, agonizing years until death mercifully claimed his body as well as his heart and soul.
Pauline had left him by then. She had been the only woman he'd ever loved, and she'd been nothing more than a whore in disguise. To this day he couldn't be sure if it was him or their impoverished circumstances which triggered her desertion. He suspected that she had never really loved him, and had only been seeking to marry a fortune, something the Delanzas had never had. Their marriage had been brief, little more than a year. He had almost gone after her, almost begged her to stay. But he had some pride, because she was leaving him to go to another man. Letting her go had been impossibly hard and impossibly painful.
And like his mother, Slade ran away also, fifteen years later. Just like his mother. It was a second betrayal that he had barely been able to survive, and it hurt so much more than the first. Of course, from the time Slade had been toddling Rick had seen the nearly unbearable resemblance between mother and son. Slade's astounding looks, which were almost too pretty when he was a young boy, had come from his mother. So too had his defiance. Rick had spent fifteen years trying to tame that wild streak, without success.
