Yancy snorted. "I'm sure you appeared very prettily astonished when you learned of your good fortune. Margaret probably couldn't have given a better performance!"
"Don't equate me with Margaret!" Sara snapped, her green eyes flashing. "And since you're so busy impugning my honor, what about yours? Whatever disgusting motives you may attribute to me, at least I didn't murder anyone!"
There was a tense moment, and Sara suddenly feared that she had gone too far. But then Yancy seemed to relax and, his arms folded across his chest, he stared at
her, one eyebrow roguishly cocked. "You really believe that I murdered Margaret?" he asked bluntly.
His reaction startled her, and as some of her anger began to ebb, she regarded him uneasily. Yancy had always seemed the most likely suspect, and then there was the matter of the Spanish dagger. ... He certainly didn't look like a murderer, she thought inconsequently. Her accusation seemed to amuse him, rather than enrage or insult him, and that confused her and gave her pause. "Didn't you?" she finally asked.
His smile widened and he replied, "Do you know that you are the first person to actually accuse me face-to-face or dare to ask me if I did the vile deed?"
Sara's eyes searched his, seeking some clue to what was going on behind that brilliant golden gaze. "You had the best reason—the most to gain from Margaret's death."
"Did I? Or was I just the handiest? For Dios Did it never occur to you that someone might have used my open hatred of her and that last argument of mine with her to cover his own tracks?"
That this was a very foolhardy conversation to be having with a possible murderer suddenly occurred to Sara, along with another startling notion: if she really believed that Yancy had murdered Margaret, why wasn't she frightened of him? He did frighten her, of course, at times, but not for any reasons connected with Margaret's death; it was his effect upon her that made her wary of him— not because she feared that he would kill her! If she truly believed him a killer, why had she never felt as if she were in physical danger from him? Why didn't she even now fear for her own life? Unsettled by the train of her thoughts, she murmured, "But the dagger was there. I saw it! A Spanish dagger!"
"And, of course," Yancy said dryly, "I'm the only person who could have owned a Spanish dagger!"
Sara flushed at the sarcastic inflection in his voice and moved restlessly away from him. Confused by the nagging idea that perhaps she had been wrong all these years, that it was possible—no, probable, if her instincts were right—that Yancy hadn't killed Margaret, she abruptly left the unsettling subject of that long-ago murder and returned doggedly to the matter at hand. Facing him defiantly, her chin held high, her hands clenched tightly at her sides, she said coldly, "I'm sorry that you are unhappy about the contents of your father's will, but there is nothing I can do about it. I'm sorry, too, that you have chosen to take the blackest, most despicable view of my marriage to Sam and distort it into something that bears absolutely no resemblance to what actually occurred." She took a deep breath and plunged on. "Mr. Henderson has indicated that it will be very hard to find a buyer for Magnolia Grove. If this is so, and I pray that it is not, you will just have to force yourself to put up with my wicked presence." She paused and sent him a dark look. "Of course, you could just sign the necessary papers and leave within a matter of days."
He hadn't changed his position, and with a smile that she didn't like at all, he drawled softly, "Ah, chica, I think you have forgotten about Casa Paloma.. . ."
Sara's heart gave a funny lurch in her breast, but she said stoutly, "I haven't forgotten about Casa Paloma. When the sale of Magnolia Grove is finally complete, and I hope that Mr. Henderson is wrong about finding a buyer for the place, I intend to take up residence there! And even if Magnolia Grove doesn't sell for months, I plan to leave for Casa Paloma just as soon as the estate is settled." She flashed him a challenging look. "Now that you're here, that shouldn't take too long! It is my fervent hope that by no later than the end of June I shall be living in my new home at Casa Paloma."
His mouth tightened, but to her surprise, there was no furious outburst. "And what," he asked dryly, "do you intend to do at Casa Paloma? It will take a great deal of money, probably the whole of your share from Magnolia Grove, to bring the house into any state of habitability—^remember, it has been vacant and untend-ed for thirty years or more. What will you live on once you have squandered all your ready cash?"
"I won't be squandering it! But even if it does take all of the money from Magnolia Grove to make Casa Paloma comfortable, there is still the money that Sam had placed in the bank in New York. It is a sizable sum. I will have that money to live on and will use it for the most basic repairs to the house. Once Magnolia Grove is sold, I shall begin—^" She stopped abruptly, suddenly realizing that there was no earthly reason to tell Yancy Cantrell all of her plans.
"Begin?" he prodded with a quizzical expression, his eyes fixed intently on her face.
"Nothing!" she said hurriedly. "And I think this conversation has gone on long enough!" She flashed him a bitter smile. "You will, of course, I am sure, make yourself at home here, but I would prefer to have as little to do with you as possible. The house is rather large and I think that if we both try, we should manage, for the time you are here, to avoid each other! We have nothing more to say to each other!"
"Ah, but you're wrong, sweetheart," he replied coolly. "As long as you have Casa Paloma, I'm not going to be far from your side." A spark leaped into his eyes and he said huskily, "You see, since you arranged it that way, I have every intention of making certain that any children you may have are my children! And that, my little dove, means that not only am I never going to be far from your side, but that I have every intention of having you in my bed! We shall, I think, make beautiful children!"
Transfixed, Sara stared at him, a mixture of anger and excitement battling for supremacy within her. Anger won, and her eyes sparkling with temper, she snapped, "How dare you! Do you really believe that I shall just tamely go along with your outrageous plans?"
"What?" he asked innocently. "Don't you think we shall make beautiful children? Do you think they'd be homely?"
"Whether they would be beautiful or homely isn't the point! If there would be any children is the topic under discussion."
Yancy looked wounded. "You don't want to make sweet little babies with me?"
Sara smothered a decidedly unladylike curse and glared at him, ignoring the mocking gleam dancing in his golden eyes. Walking toward her, Yancy cupped her cheek almost tenderly and brushed a teasing kiss across her lips. His mouth inches from hers, he murmured, "Believe me, chica, there is nothing I would like better than attempting to make a child with you ... in fact, I'm looking forward to it!"
"I wouldn't look too forward to it," Sara said sweetly. "Life can be just full of unexpected disappointments— even for someone like you!"
Yancy grinned at her. "You think so?" he asked quizzically.
"Fd wager everything I own on it!"
"Well, we'll just have to wait and see what the future holds," he murmured as he walked away. "Won't we, sweetheart?"
It was several minutes after he had left before Sara was able to compose herself. Thinking crossly that she had never met a more conceited, infuriating man in her life, she crossed to the desk and sank into a chair.
She sat there fuming for several moments, her thoughts very black and not the least kindly disposed toward
Yancy Cantrell! Dwelling on his arrogant, despicable assumptions about her, and on the nasty fates she'd like to arrange for him, banished the worst of her angry dismay over the entire situation. It was only then that she allowed herself to consider those bittersweet moments when he had confessed that he had carried the memory of her away with him . . . that he had even contemplated, however briefly, returning for her. . . . For a second she let herself drift in a warm, hazy dream, picturing herself, at seventeen, protectively cradled in Yancy's strong arms as he spurred his horse and they gal
loped away to Ran-cho del Sol. . . .
She gave herself a shake and pulled a face. That was the sort of girlish stuff she had given up on long ago— or should have! Fairy tales! And besides, she reminded herself sourly, whatever softer emotions Yancy might once have nourished for her, her marriage to Sam and Sam's utterly impossible will had managed to thoroughly destroy.
She shook herself and began to think about the immediate future—just getting through the next few days with Yancy in the house was going to be a fiendish experience. He had bluntly admitted that he hated her and damned her soul to hell, and she didn't think he was going to change his mind about her any time soon!
Then it occurred to her that, except for all his expressed hatred of her, he seemed to have a very hard time keeping his hands off her. When she thought about it, she realized that he took every opportunity to hold her in his arms and that while he might profess to hate her, he was also mightily attracted to her. . . . She smiled unhappily. Even though he was physically attracted to her, it didn't mean he liked anything else about her.
Sara sighed. Well! She certainly didn't need to be sitting here mooning over things that could never be. There was work to be done!
It was difficult, but for the next several hours she managed to keep her mind away from tantalizing and disruptive speculations about Yancy Cantrell. The sudden rumble of her stomach, however, reminded her that it was long past noon and that she was very hungry. With relief she left off sorting through Sam's papers— something she'd been avoiding doing for months—and prepared to leave the office. She was actually reaching for the doorknob when the door opened.
Yancy and Mr. Henderson stood in the doorway and Sara stared at them in surprise. Mr. Henderson beamed at her and said, "Good day, my dear! I trust you will excuse my bursting in on you like this, but Yancy came to see me this morning with a marvelous solution and he insisted that I come back with him to tell you."
Wordlessly Sara indicated for the two men to come into the room. Yancy lounged with his usual negligence in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Mr. Henderson waited until Sara was seated behind the desk and then, fairly rubbing his hands together with delight, he said, "We have decided on a price for Magnolia Grove— one we think you will concede is more than adequate— and Yancy has agreed to immediately buy out your share of the plantation!" Mr. Henderson beamed at her again. "There is now no need to worry about finding a buyer—within a matter of days the sale and the settlement of Sam's estate can be completed. Isn't that wonderful?"
It was wonderful news, but it also made Sara terribly uneasy. Why was Yancy doing this? She looked at him, but his expression was enigmatic as he stared steadily back at her.
Feeling something was expected of her, she said reluctantly, "That is indeed wonderful news, Mr. Henderson. I just didn't expect. .." She glanced nervously back at Yancy. "I know you will want to take possession right
away, but it will take me a few weeks to vacate the premises."
Yancy nodded. "Of course. I understand perfectly. We can leave whenever you're ready."
"We?" Sara repeated weakly.
"Oh, yes!" Mr. Henderson said happily. "That's the best part—you are going to stay at Rancho del Sol until the repairs are completed at Paloma! Yancy explained it all to me on our ride out here!"
8
How Sara kept a civil tongue in her mouth during the next several harrowing moments, she never knew. With growing fury she listened to Mr. Henderson's innocent prattling about how marvelous it was that Yancy had returned and had so generously provided a solution to the situation. Unconscious of the angry currents swirling about the room, Mr. Henderson droned on and on, exclaiming again and again how wonderfully everything had worked out, how pleased Sam would be that Yancy was doing the right thing by offering Sara the hospitality of his home and how comforted Sara must be to know that she now had a man to watch over her and protect her from the cares of the world. Why, it was just splen-did She bore it as long as she could, all the while hotly aware of Yancy watching her closely, a smile of grim amusement on his dark face. Finally she'd had enough and gently but firmly urged Mr. Henderson into taking his leave.
Yancy rose with indolent grace to accompany the lawyer to the door and Sara said sweetly, "After you have seen Mr. Henderson on his way, would you please return here?" Her eyes glittered fiercely at him and despite her best efforts, she couldn't help the sharp edge that crept into her voice as she said, "After all, we have so much to discuss!"
Yancy smiled mockingly at her. "Perhaps later, chica —since we will be leaving for del Sol just as soon as things can be arranged, there is much that I must see to."
Fully aware of Mr. Henderson watching them benignly, Sara bit back the wrathful words that choked her throat and got out tightly, "I think it would be best if we discussed it first."
There was a slight commotion in the doorway and Ann breezed in. "Oh, Mr. Henderson! It is you! Peggy said that someone had come to call, but she didn't know who it was." Smiling sunnily at the lawyer, she purred, "Do you have some news for us?"
Of course, Mr. Henderson had to divulge all, and he had barely finished speaking when, after a swift, comprehensive glance at Yancy and Sara, Ann exclaimed, "Why, how absolutely divine! I have wanted to visit del Sol for simply years —especially since the last time I saw the place it was in such shambles." She flashed Yancy an affable look. "Sam spoke often over the years of all the excellent improvements you have made there. It is so generous of you to have all of us stay with you while Casa Paloma is made habitable. My husband and I cannot thank you enough for coming up with such a superb solution! We all have been dreading the move to Casa Paloma, not knowing what we would find."
Yancy's face was the picture of incredulous dismay, and when he opened his mouth, clearly intending to bluntly disabuse her of the notion that his invitation included the Shelldrakes, Ann rushed on. "Oh, I just know that this move will be a much-needed tonic for poor Tom. I'm sure that once he is no longer deviled with worries about the uncertainty of the future, he will improve dramatically. You are so kind to us, Yancy— Sam would be proud of you! It is just too, too touching the way our little family helps one another." She
brushed a kiss on Yancy's cheek and murmured, "You must excuse me—I simply have to tell Tom the exciting news!"
She disappeared in a whirl of rustling black skirts, and like a man hit by a cannonball, Yancy stared dazedly after her. It was Mr. Henderson's enthusiastically pumping his hand and telling him what a magnificent fellow he was to watch over his extended family this way that brought him out of his trance. He threw a distinctly harassed glance at Sara, and taking pity on him— after all, too well did she know how adept Ann was at manipulating things to her advantage—she guided the voluble Mr. Henderson toward the front door.
With the lawyer happily on his way to town to spread the fascinating news that young Yancy wasn't such a bad sort—in spite of the rumors about him—Sara slowly turned to look at Yancy. A mocking smile curving her rosy mouth, she said with a certain amount of understandable malice, "Perhaps that explains why the Shelldrakes are still living at Magnolia Grove!"
The animosity between them gone for the moment, Yancy grinned ruefully. "She is very like Margaret in getting her own way, isn't she?"
"Very!" Sara agreed dryly.
Bartholomew appeared just then and said to Sara in a scolding voice, "Here you are! I have been looking all over for you! It is long past noon and Tansy says that you are to come right now and eat some of the nice chicken and dumplings she has especially prepared for you."
Sara was used to Bartholomew's faintly bossy manner, but she wished that he hadn't chosen this moment to display it. Flushing slightly and feeling as if she were suddenly twelve years old, she said meekly, "Mr. Henderson delayed me. I will come right away." Glancing at Yancy, she scowled at the amusement dancing in
his eyes. "And as for you," she began grimly, "don't congratulate yourself too soon on how clever you have been! Jus
t as soon as I have eaten, I want to see you in Sam's office. We still have a great deal to discuss."
Yancy rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Well, sweetheart, it's like I told you—I'm afraid that I'll be busy this afternoon." He smiled kindly at her. "But don't worry, I'm sure we'll find some time to talk." He turned and started to walk down the hall.
Sara watched him go, her emotions in a raging turmoil. She wasn't certain how he had done it, but in less than twenty-four hours it seemed as if he had effortlessly wrested control of her very life from her. It was intolerable! Somehow she had to regain what she had lost, and there was no time like the present! Fear as much as rage fueling her words, she called after him, "Don't you dare walk away from me! I'm not through talking to you! And I would remind you that Magnolia Grove is not yours yet—I have to agree to the sale, no matter how generous your offer!"
Yancy glanced back at her, the expression in his golden-brown eyes hard to define. "Are you telling me," he said with soft menace, "that you aren't going to accept my offer?"
"No, it isn't that! I will gladly accept your offer for Magnolia Grove—I'll be happier than you could ever know to be rid of it," Sara said coolly, and deciding that since he'd left her no alternative she might as well get it over with, she added bluntly, "But I'm afraid that my living at del Sol is out of the question!"
Something dangerous slid mto his eyes and as he took a step in her direction, Sara was conscious of a sensation of great peril. It was Bartholomew's delicate cough that stopped Yancy's advance, and somewhat apologetically, Bartholomew murmured, "I think that this discussion should be continued in a more private place . . . and after
Sara has eaten." He looked meaningfully at Yancy, and Yancy relaxed slightly and shrugged indifferently.
Love a Dark Rider Page 10
