Fiesta San Antonio

by Janet Dailey

  Natalie started visibly when he leaned forward suddenly, his hand reaching to the side of her. Then she saw the object that had captured his attention, a framed photograph of her brother, his wife and Ricky that sat on the shelf beside the table.

  “My brother Ned and his wife Susan taken on Ricky’s second birthday,” Natalie explained defensively when his glance was turned sharply on her.

  “Then he is your nephew.”

  “Yes, he is.” Her chin tilted in proud defiance. “They were killed in a car crash shortly after the picture was taken.”

  “And Ricky had no other family?”

  “Our parents are dead and Susan’s mother was an invalid,” she responded, wondering why she was answering his probing questions at all.

  “You must have been quite young yourself.” Colter continued his study of the photograph.

  “Eighteen, if it’s any of your business,” and she was rewarded for her sharpness with an immediate narrowing of his gaze.

  But otherwise, his expression remained completely unruffled. “That makes you twenty-one or twenty-two?”

  “Twenty-one.”

  This was not idle table conversation, but serving some purpose that Natalie couldn’t begin to perceive. She could only guess that it concerned something that he wanted to discuss with her.

  “No boy-friends?”

  “No,” she answered shortly.

  She was unable or unwilling to explain that Ricky’s advent into her life had brought a halt to nearly all her social activities, with male or female. A kind of loneliness, however reluctantly acknowledged, had become her constant companion.

  “Few young men want the responsibility of another man’s child,” Colter observed drily, “or the restrictions it places on a girl’s social life.”

  He had put his finger exactly on the problem, but his accurate perception didn’t ease her wariness. Natalie refused to acknowledge the truth of his statement and remained silent.

  “You’re sacrificing quite a lot for the sake of the boy.” He had replaced the photograph and was leaning back in the chair, tilting it on its back legs.

  “‘The boy’ has a name. It’s Ricky,” Natalie replied tautly, hating the way Colter Langston kept referring to him as if Ricky was an inanimate object. “And I don’t regard it as a sacrifice. It isn’t Ricky’s fault that his parents were killed.”

  “Nor yours, although you seem determined to make up for it.”

  “What would you suggest I do?” Natalie demanded angrily. “Turn him over to the courts to be shuffled from one foster home to another without knowing the security of any family?”

  “I don’t imagine there was anything else you could do under the circumstances.” Colter set the chair back on all four legs.

  Despite his statement of agreement, Natalie sensed he didn’t agree with her. She thrust the remains of the sandwich impatiently aside, losing her taste for any more of it.

  THREE

  “WOULD YOU mind telling me exactly what it is that you came to discuss?” Natalie challenged, tired of playing the game of being mouse to his cat.

  Impassive and unrelenting, the bronze mask stared back at her. The only life to his expression was in the frosty glitter of his eyes. Even that was unreadable.

  “This evening,” his hand moved the coffee cup away from the edge of the table, “Missy told me that she wished her mother had not died giving birth to her. Hardly an unusual comment for a child to make, I’ll admit, but her reason for the statement was that she would have liked to have had a little brother or sister. She’s become very fond of your nephew.”

  “I’m sorry if that has inconvenienced you,” Natalie retaliated.

  Sympathy rose for Missy, who had probably been taught by her father not to expect too much affection from adults, especially parents.

  His gaze narrowed. “We live on a ranch. My aunt, who lives with us, takes care of Missy,” continued Colter. “She’s quite elderly. It’s becoming increasingly difficult for her to do all the cooking and cleaning, et cetera, that’s required. She has expressed a wish to retire, you might say.”

  “I see,” Natalie murmured. The picture had begun to form in her mind. He was seeking a replacement for his aunt, someone to take care of his house and his daughter. “And that’s what you want to talk to me about.”

  “Exactly.” There was a faintly amused twist of his mouth. “If you’ll pardon the understatement, life hasn’t been easy for you and the boy. And from the frantic scribbles on that paper, the future doesn’t look very bright either.”

  “If you mean, do I need a job? the answer is yes.”

  “It isn’t a job I’m offering you.”

  It was difficult for Natalie to hold that level, ever-watchful gaze. She took a deep breath, feeling inexplicably tired of trying to match wits with someone who obviously was always one step ahead of her.

  “Then what is all this leading to?” Natalie asked, wearily exhaling the breath she had just taken.

  “I want you to marry me.” There was not the slightest change in his bland, unemotional tone, nor did his eyes waver from her face.

  She blinked and frowned. “Is that some kind of a joke?”

  “I’m completely serious.” Now that the announcement had been made and her reaction studied, Colter Langston reached into his pocket for a cigarette and a lighter.

  “But I don’t love you, and you certainly don’t love me,” Natalie returned in blank confusion.

  “Hardly.” The idea that she might have thought he did struck a chord of perverted amusement, revealed in silent laughter.

  Natalie couldn’t see the funny side. “I thought you said you needed a housekeeper and someone to look after Missy,” she reminded him with a trace of anger.

  “I do.” Calmly he blew a cloud of grey smoke above the table. “That’s why I want to marry you.”

  Her mouth felt dry and cottony. With a flash of irritation, she rose from the table, taking her cup and walking into the small alcove for more much-needed coffee.

  “I’m afraid I don’t see your reasoning,” she said shortly. “You don’t have to acquire a wife to obtain a housekeeper.”

  “Don’t I?” His low, drawling voice, cynically tinged with mockery, carried across the room. “I want to be assured that whoever I get will be more or less permanent. Housekeepers tend to give notice. It’s much easier to sever the strings of employment than it is the bonds of matrimony.”

  “Marriage — that’s rather a drastic measure just to keep a housekeeper, isn’t it?” Natalie suggested drily as she poured water into the crystals of instant coffee.

  “Not drastic, practical,” corrected Colter.

  “I think the whole idea is ridiculous!” With an impatient sigh, she began stirring the brown liquid.

  When Colter had mentioned that he needed a housekeeper, she had wanted the job, her heart leaping at the thought of Ricky living in the country and herself being there whenever he needed her. But this marriage was something else again.

  “Why is it ridiculous? You need a job and I need a housekeeper. I’ve already seen that you work hard.” His gaze swept over the small apartment. “You’re tidy and clean. You are obviously very fond of children and they return it — or at least your nephew does, and Missy is less silent with you than with most adults. I presume you can cook?”

  “Yes, I can cook, but —” Leaning a hip against the counter, Natalie waved a hand in the air helplessly, “but there must be half a dozen girls willing to marry you. Girls much more suitable than I am.”

  “Not more suitable.” He rolled lazily to his feet, picking up his own empty coffee cup and walking to the alcove where Natalie stood. “Better dressed, maybe, educated in better schools, from a different social sphere, and all of them could probably convince themselves that they’re in love with me, or the Langston name and money. I don’t want or need their love.”

  There was such a decided sneer given to the last word that Natalie couldn’t help
adding coldly, “Or anyone’s?”

  “Does that shock you?” His eyes glittered over her face. “Nearly the entire world lives under that cloud of deceit.”

  She had wondered before if he had any feelings. Now she knew he hadn’t, not any of any depth at least. “You don’t want a wife. You want a slave,” she accused.

  “It’s illegal,” Colter returned without a lash flickering.

  Natalie breathed in sharply with disgust. “I can’t believe you seriously expect me to agree to your proposal.”

  “Why? It’s not without compensations to you. You and the boy will not lack for material needs — food, clothing, shelter, instead of a hand-to-mouth existence. I can provide the financial means for him to have a higher education if he wants it. In other words, all your worries will be gone. You’ll have nothing to concern yourself about except taking care of my home and Missy. Other than the times the boy is in school, he’ll be with you constantly.”

  It was a very tempting picture he painted and he knew its lure. What hope did she have to do as much for Ricky? What did the future hold for her but more nerve-racking days wondering how she was going to pay for some bill or put food on their table and a roof over their heads?

  “What’s the matter?” Colter asked drily. “Are you still nourishing some childhood dream that Prince Charming will appear and carry you off into the sunset?” Natalie flashed him a resentful look. “When was the last time you had a date?”

  Despite the mutinous line of her mouth that longed to deny the arrogant certainty of his gaze, she averted her head.

  “Over two years ago,” she admitted grudgingly. “Doesn’t it bother you that your friends would think it strange for you to marry someone like me?” she added, attempting to shift the subject from her social life, or lack of one.

  “Why should they? You’re an attractive girl. Tired and overworked, in need of rest and more meat on your bones and more attractive clothes to cover you.” His hand closed over her chin, twisting her face around to see it better. “In fact, you could be quite beautiful. The gold dust in your almond eyes and the sensual fullness of your lips would arouse any man’s desire. Our marriage would probably be regarded as very romantic.”

  His detached appraisal was disturbing, but not nearly so much as her rocketing pulse at his touch. In all the impressions Natalie had formed, she had forgotten or ignored his overpowering masculinity, the supreme dominating maleness. It was his virile attraction that held the element of danger she had sensed. And Natalie was susceptible — she could feel it in the sudden heightening of her senses. She was a female who had been too long without the attentions of a male.

  Trying to fight back that discovery, she wrenched her head from his hold. “Next you’ll be examining my teeth like a horse!” she flared.

  Colter leaned against the edge of the counter, disregarding her sarcasm. “The marriage would be convenient for both of us. It wouldn’t raise near as many eyebrows as hiring you strictly as a housekeeper would.”

  “It’s insane,” Natalie denied, staring at her cooling cup of coffee.

  “It’s logical. What’s your answer?”

  “I need time to think.” Although she wasn’t sure what there was to think about, except that she was reluctant to say “no”.

  “I don’t have time. Missy and I are leaving for the ranch on Sunday morning. That only leaves tomorrow. There are certain arrangements that can’t be postponed till the last minute,” Colter informed her, his arms folded in front of him.

  “You can’t expect me to give you an answer now,” Natalie responded, nervously running her fingers through her brown hair.

  “I can and I do.” There was an underlying thread of impatience in his voice. “What are your alternatives? You’ve had time enough tonight before I came back to assess what the future holds for you in the present circumstances.” He straightened from the counter, towering above her. “I’m leaving, Natalie Crane, and I want your answer before I walk through the door.”

  Her gaze flew to his face in disbelief, the cold, impassive face, the handsome lines etched with unrelenting firmness. He held her gaze for an instant, letting her see that he meant exactly what he said. Then his lithe, supple strides were carrying him towards the door without a backward glance.

  At the click of the doorknob, Natalie’s paralysis ended. “Yes.”

  Colter turned, his arrogant expression unchanged, not a trace of satisfaction or any other emotion.

  “I’ll pick you and the boy up at eight tomorrow morning.” His gaze made an all-encompassing sweep of the room. “You won’t be coming back here, so pack only what you need or want to keep. I wouldn’t be concerned about clothes. You’ll both be getting new wardrobes.”

  Without giving Natalie a chance to reply or bidding her goodnight, he was out of the door, his cat-soft footsteps sounding faintly on the stairs. She leaned weakly against the counter, her eyes turning towards the sleeping child.

  “Have I done the right thing?” she murmured aloud, then turned her eyes towards the ceiling. “Oh, God, have I done the right thing?” The only response to her whispered prayer was the sound of a powerful engine springing to life in the street below.

  Natalie had expected to spend a restless night, plagued by doubts about her and Ricky’s future, but she slept the sleep of the innocent. For the first time in recent memory, she awoke feeling refreshed and rested without that heavy weight of responsibility pushing her down. A marriage of convenience didn’t sound quite as bad as it had last night.

  Omitting their clothing and sparse household goods, there was little to pack. But the process wasn’t speeded up by Ricky’s unbounded excitement, generated not by Natalie’s announcement that she was going to marry Missy’s father, but by all the changes that were brought by it.

  “Can I really have a pair of cowboy boots?” he asked for the hundredth time, Natalie was sure.

  “Yes.” She smiled patiently, unable and unwilling to dampen his enthusiasm. “As long as you’re a good boy. Are you sure you have all your toys in the sack?”

  “Yes,” Ricky sighed contentedly.

  Apprehensions churned her stomach when Colter knocked on the door promptly at eight o’clock. Before the doubts could take hold, he had them and their few belongings stowed in the car, and the landlady cuttingly dealt with.

  The entire day was a whirl of efficient organization, never allowing Natalie more than a passing opportunity to think about what she was doing. An entire wardrobe had been chosen by Colter, from the most intimate lingerie to accessories for an evening dress. While Natalie had her hair shampooed, styled and set, the same impersonal attention was given to Ricky’s clothing needs, fortunately including a pair of cowboy boots.

  She had barely caught her breath at lunch before Colter was whisking the four of them on to a chartered jet bound for Laredo and ultimately, by rented car, to Nuevo Laredo across the border in Mexico, where she and Colter were married. In the car and on the flight to and from Laredo, Missy and Ricky had kept up a steady stream of chatter in which Ricky always included Natalie but Colter was left out.

  That evening the events of the day took on an unreal quality as if none of it had happened except in a dream. Breathing deeply of the warm night air, Natalie glanced at her dusty-coloured apricot pants suit, the elegant lines complementing her slender and curvaceous figure.

  It had all happened. There was a heavy gold band on her finger to prove that she was Mrs. Colter Langston. And there was Ricky standing in front of her beside Missy, staring down again at the pointed toes of his shiny new cowboy boots.

  Her gold-flecked eyes were directed curiously at Colter a foot or more to her right. As he had all day, he appeared aloof, detached from the group while in command of them. The casual suit that he wore with such negligent ease was cream-coloured, accenting the streaks of gold in his hair and pointing out the pale colour of his eyes against the dark tan of his skin. As if sensing her inspection, his eyes, hesitating closer to green
than blue tonight, swung their gaze to Natalie from the precision drill teams entertaining the crowd.

  “It’s too late for second thoughts,” he told her quietly.

  Under his compelling gaze, Natalie couldn’t look away. “It’s too soon to say whether I regret it,” she answered truthfully. She tilted her head to one side, her face softly illuminated by an overhead street light, her hair in its new flattering style glistening with a golden glow, the total effect feminine and unconsciously alluring. “Do you?”

  The mask of his expression didn’t vary as his gaze raked her from head to toe. “I never regret anything,” Colter replied.

  “How wonderful it must be to be that confident,” she mused.

  “The only time you regret something is when your emotions are involved.”

  “And you don’t have any emotions?” Natalie mocked the implacable mask.

  “No, that curse wasn’t put on me when I was born.”

  Automatically her gaze shifted to Missy, protectively holding Ricky’s hand. “You don’t feel anything?”

  He guessed she was referring to his daughter. “Responsibility.” Amusement flickered faintly around the corners of his mouth. “That shocks you, too.”

  “That’s hard to comprehend.” A frown of concentration drew her finely arched brows together. “Have you never cared deeply for anyone — your parents, your wife?”

  Muscular shoulders moved in a careless shrug as he turned away, letting a sideways glance slide back to her face. “I don’t particularly care for myself. It’s just as well you should discover that about me now, Natalie.” It still sounded strange to hear him say her name. It sounded as if he wasn’t actually talking to her, a name that belonged to someone else. “That way you won’t expect very much from our marriage.”

  If her subconscious had formulated any thought that something might grow between them, it died with his statement. There was a slight easing of her conscience at the same time. It wasn’t a loveless marriage but a true marriage of convenience where each of them received what they wanted and expected no more.