Betrayed Birthright

by Sheri WhiteFeather

  She tried to keep her emotions in check, but on the elevator ride to the top floor, the walls started closing in. They were the only two people in the confined space. He’d changed into a suit and tie, looking like what he was: a tough, charming CEO. Spencer Ashton’s favored nephew. She could almost see the older man’s blood flowing through his veins.

  Like poison, she thought.

  He smiled at her, and a lump caught in her throat. She knew Walker had a tender side. The side he must have hidden from his uncle.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  She cleared the raspy sound from her voice. “This is an imposing place.”

  “I suppose it is. Maybe more so since Spencer died here. He was shot in his office. He was working late and—”

  The elevator doors opened and he stopped speaking, letting his words fade into the walls. She wondered if he would ever stop mourning his uncle. If he would accept Spencer for the bastard he was.

  The fourteenth floor, where the Ashton-Lattimer executives made their corporate marks on the world, presented a modern decor.

  Walker introduced her to a few of the secondary bigwigs, men who treated him with the utmost respect. She wondered if there were any women at the top of the food chain.

  Finally he showed her his office—a spacious state-of-the-art domain in shades of gray, with silver-framed watercolors, a shiny black desk and floor-to-ceiling windows. Walker was a man rooted to the city.

  This wasn’t déjà vu. This wasn’t Edward all over again. Being with Walker in San Francisco created a whole new stream of emotions.

  New fears. New challenges.

  Letting Edward go had been her salvation, a part of her growth, of who she was destined to become. But losing Walker—

  “Come on,” he said, cutting through her thoughts like a machete. “I’ll introduce you to my assistant.”

  He escorted her to a smaller office, but apparently the woman at the lacquered desk wasn’t who he expected to see. “Kerry?” He gave her a curious study. “Where’s Linda?”

  Kerry came to her feet, and Tamra did her damnedest not to stare. Tall and curvaceous, the stunning blonde wore a lavender suit and chic yet understated jewelry. Her eyes, a color that could only be described as violet, were framed with dark, luxurious lashes.

  Talk about beautiful. This girl had it all.

  Tamra prayed she wasn’t a former bed mate of Walker’s. An office liaison. A hot-tub bunny. She couldn’t deal with feminine rivalry, not now, not today.

  “Linda called in sick,” Kerry said. “She caught that awful flu that’s been going around, so I’m covering for her.”

  “Fine. No problem. You’re more than qualified.” Walker sent the Ashton-Lattimer employee a professional smile, then turned to Tamra and made the introduction.

  Kerry, whose last name was Roarke, extended her hand with genuine warmth, and Tamra knew, right then and there, that she’d never slept with Walker. There was nothing between him and the breathtaking blonde, not even a passing interest.

  “Kerry used to be Spencer’s executive administrative assistant,” he said. “After he died, she transferred to Human Resources, but she helps out wherever she’s needed.”

  Now Tamra wondered if Kerry had been involved with Spencer. Given his penchant for infidelity, she could only imagine how badly he’d probably wanted her.

  But was Kerry the type to sleep with a married man?

  While Walker and the blonde talked business, Tamra sat in a leather chair. Every so often, she stole a glance at the other woman, still wondering about her.

  Finally the meeting ended.

  After Walker took Tamra’s hand and led her out of the building, he stopped to kiss her, to brush his mouth across hers.

  As a moderate breeze swirled around them, she decided that she was ready to visit Jade’s grave, to bring her daughter and the man she loved together. Because after Tamra was gone, Walker would remain in San Francisco, keeping Jade from being alone.

  Tamra gave Walker directions to the cemetery, but he stopped at a florist first. She wandered around the flower shop, her thoughts spinning like a pinwheel.

  She didn’t want to go home without telling him that she loved him. Yet she wasn’t sure if a confession was in order. What did she hope to accomplish by admitting the truth? Did she think it would change the status of their relationship? That he would abandon his corporate lifestyle and move to Pine Ridge with her?

  Fat chance, she thought. Love wasn’t a miracle.

  But what was the point of keeping quiet? Of suffering in silence? She studied a bouquet of daisies, feeling like a schoolgirl who couldn’t temper her emotion-laced whims.

  He loves me. He loves me not.

  Walker was Mary’s son. He would always be part of Tamra’s life. Seeing him from year to year was inevitable. She couldn’t ignore the connection they shared.

  “What about pink roses?” he asked, his voice sounding behind her.

  She turned, looked into his eyes. Mary had warned her in the beginning about getting hurt, about falling in love. But now Walker’s mother thought he and Tamra were good together.

  “Pink roses?” she parroted.

  He nodded. “With baby’s breath. And maybe a toy, too. Something fluffy. They have teddy bears. A lamb that’s really cute. The florist said they can add a toy to the arrangement.”

  She wanted to put her arms around him, to hold him close. He seemed like Jade’s earthbound angel. Her tall, dark, masculine protector. “That sounds perfect.”

  “Okay.” He smiled. “I’ll be right back with the stuffed animals. We’ll have to choose which one we want.”

  Tamra glanced at the daisies again.

  He loves me. He loves me not.

  Walker returned with a pink teddy bear in one hand and a white lamb in the other. He held them up, wiggling each toy, making them come to life. “Which one do you like better?”

  “I don’t know.” The teddy bear had big expressive eyes and the lamb offered a tender smile. “Why don’t you decide?”

  He made a puzzled face, giving the stuffed animals a serious examination. “Maybe we should get both. The other one might feel bad if we leave it behind.”

  Tamra wondered how this could be the same man who’d allowed Spencer Ashton to influence him, to guide him, to mold and shape him into the adult he’d become.

  She couldn’t imagine Spencer buying toys for a baby’s grave. Or, heaven forbid, worrying about the emotional welfare of a white lamb or a pink bear.

  “Thank you, Walker. This means a lot to me.”

  His gaze locked on hers. The cozy flower shop, with its festive colors, refrigerated cases and vine-draped displays, made him look even more masculine. Bigger, broader, stronger in the sun-dappled light.

  “Jade is going to be happy to see you. To know you’re here,” he said. Then he paused for a moment, mulling something over in his mind. “When we get back to Napa Valley, we should take my mom to my dad’s resting place.”

  Tamra couldn’t quit looking at him. A strand of hair, loosened from the San Francisco breeze, cut across his forehead, slicing over one dark eyebrow. She had the notion to smooth it into place. Just to touch him, she thought. Just to tempt her fingers.

  “Charlotte will probably do that,” she finally said.

  “You’re right. She probably will.” He cradled the stuffed animals. “I’ll go put in our order. Let the saleslady know what we want.”

  While they waited for the floral arrangement, she inhaled the gardenlike fragrance, the softness in the air. Walker stood with his hands in his pockets, his designer suit and silk tie still in place.

  Tamra wore the same clothes she’d had on earlier. She hadn’t changed to go to his office, but she hadn’t needed to. Her denim dress and tan cowboy boots reflected her style, who she was and who she would always be.

  They arrived at the cemetery, silence fluttering between them. He carried the roses, and she led him through grassy slopes, where anc
ient trees burst with summer foliage. The headstones scattered across the lawn varied, some fancy, others simple. The one that belonged to Jade was white, with an eagle feather etched upon it.

  Tamra knelt, dusting away leaves that had fallen.

  “Jade Marie Winter Hawk. Beloved daughter.” Walker read the baby’s marker, then placed the basket on the ground. Nestled among the flowers, the bear and the lamb faced each other, smiling like friends on a preschool playground.

  “Marie was my mother’s name.” She envisioned Jade the way she might look today—a three-year-old with mixed-blood features, a sweet, beautiful, half-Lakota child.

  “It’s a pretty name. All of it.”

  “Thank you.” Memories clung to her mind like cobwebs, but she didn’t want to cry, to let her daughter know she was sad.

  “Will you tell me what happened?” Walker asked.

  She nodded, then took a deep breath. “Most fetal deaths occur before labor begins, and that’s what happened to me. I suspected something was wrong because she’d stopped moving.”

  “I remember you mentioning that before. I can only imagine how scared you must have been.”

  “Afraid and alone. Except for Mary. Your mom was there to comfort me.” She dusted another leaf from Jade’s grave, where the wind had stirred it from a nearby tree. “An ultrasound confirmed my suspicion, and that’s when the doctor broke the news to me.”

  He reached for her hand, slipping his fingers through hers. Grateful for his touch, she continued her story, wanting to share her past with him. “There was no medical reason for immediate delivery, so they gave me the option of inducing labor or waiting for it to happen on its own.”

  “Did you induce?”

  “Yes. Most women in that situation do. It’s too traumatic to wait.” She searched his gaze and noticed how closely he watched her, how much he seemed to care. “After I delivered, the hospital did an extensive evaluation, an autopsy and some other tests. They discovered that Jade died from a birth defect. But it wasn’t caused by something that’s likely to recur in another pregnancy. The risk that I’ll deliver another stillborn baby is low.”

  He brought their joined hands to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles. “You’ll have more children someday.”

  “Yes, someday.” Tamra decided she was going to tell Walker that she loved him. Tonight…tomorrow morning…she wasn’t sure when. But one way or another she was going to summon the courage to say those three little words out loud.

  Just so he knew how she felt. Just to hear his response. Just to see the reaction in his eyes.

  Ten

  A t dusk Walker and Tamra sat on his deck, sharing takeout Chinese food. A mild breeze blew, awakening the aroma of kung pao chicken, sweet-and-sour pork, egg rolls and fried rice.

  They used paper plates and plastic utensils, something Walker did often. He rarely fussed in the kitchen, cooking or dirtying dishes.

  “I was wrong,” Tamra said.

  “About what?” He stabbed a piece of the kung pao chicken, a spicy Szechuan dish with just enough kick to ignite his taste buds.

  “I thought we’d be tearing off each other’s clothes before the sun went down.”

  He glanced up at the sky and saw a small stream of light drifting through the clouds. “There’s still time.” He watched the golden light shift and fade, then sent her a teasing grin. “But we’ll have to hurry.”

  She managed an appreciative laugh, and he was glad to hear the uplifting sound. He’d been worried about her all day, hoping her anxiety would lessen.

  He knew that Edward’s proximity, the home her ex-lover owned in the area, had triggered her emotions. This town held a lot of sadness for her. A lot of grief. But Walker wanted to change that. He wanted to give her some warm and caring memories.

  He figured that a casual dinner was a good start. His redwood deck offered a romantic ambience, with outdoor lanterns and citronella candles. A wind chime near the back door created a melodious tune, and the hot tub was ready and waiting, steam rising from the water. Plants flowered all around it, vines twisting and twining on the gazebo lattice. He liked the jungle effect, as well as the privacy it afforded him.

  Tamra ate another small helping of the sweet-and-sour pork, and he watched her add extra chunks of pineapple to her plate. They occupied a rustic wood table that complemented her unpretentious beauty, her blue-jean dress, the slightly scuffed boots she favored.

  He shifted his gaze to the hot tub, thinking about the conversation they’d had earlier. “That isn’t the spa I made love in.”

  She looked up from her food. “It isn’t?”

  “No. It happened somewhere else.”

  “Thank goodness.” She reached for her bottled water. “Now I don’t have to envision you and another woman splashing around in there.”

  Her envy, or whatever it was, pleased him.

  He smiled and stole the biggest piece of pineapple from her plate, stuffing it into his mouth before she could stop him. “My spa is safe.”

  She shook her head, but he knew she was enjoying his company, the lazy evening he’d created.

  Should he admit where the hot tub rendezvous happened? Break his kiss-and-tell policy? Give her details about his past? The infrequent wildness? The few-and-far-between times he’d sown his rich-boy oats?

  Oh, what the hell, he thought. “It was at a college party. A drink-until-you-drop sort of thing.”

  Tamra made a face. “You did it at a party? With other people around?”

  Walker frowned, realizing he should have kept his mouth shut. She probably thought he’d participated in an orgy. “It wasn’t like that. The party was over. I was in the hot tub with a blonde who lived there. And my friend, Matt, was in one of the bedrooms with her roommate.”

  She made another face. “Did you switch partners?”

  “I wouldn’t have done that.” He paused, pondering Matt’s sexually abundant lifestyle. “Of course, my friend might have.”

  “He sounds like a great guy.”

  Walker ignored the sarcasm in her voice. “He is. Honestly. He’s a good person. He’s just not the kind of guy I’d let any of the women in my family date.” He glanced at the fortune cookies they’d yet to break open. “Don’t ask me why he ever tried his hand at marriage. I knew he’d end up divorced.”

  “Is he wealthy? Does he come from an Ashton-type environment?”

  “He’s rich. But he earned every cent himself. Matt Camberlane didn’t have a damn thing when he was growing up. He was probably as badly off as some of the people in Pine Ridge.”

  She tilted her head. “And you befriended him?”

  He shrugged off her surprise. “I was poor once, too, remember? Before Spencer took Charlotte and me in. I understood Matt’s shame. As well as his determination to succeed.” He scooped up a forkful of rice. “We’re still friends.”

  “Then I’ll try not to judge him.” Her gaze slammed into his. “But I agree. You should keep him away from the women in your family.”

  “I’m not worried about it. I’m sure Matt has enough lovers to keep him entertained.”

  “And you have me.”

  The air in his lungs whooshed out. The impact of her words, the depth at which they affected him, belied the entertainment aspect of their conversation.

  “You’re not my toy, Tamra. It isn’t like that between us.”

  “I know.” She pushed away her plate. “God, how I know.”

  He noticed her hands were trembling, that she was riddled with anxiety again. He didn’t know what to do, how to respond. He feared their relationship was spinning out of control, like a runaway train, a derailment that would leave them bruised. Battered. Wounded.

  “There’s something I need to tell you.” She fidgeted with a bracelet around her wrist. “I wasn’t sure when would be the appropriate time, but—”

  She stalled, and he scooted his chair back, scraping the wooden deck. He’d been sitting too close to the table
, too close to her. Because somewhere in the seed of his soul, in the cavern of his mind, he knew what she was going to say.

  “I love you, Walker.”

  The words came, just as he’d expected. And so did the panic that erupted inside him. “No one has ever been in love with me,” he managed. “No one.”

  “I am.”

  She searched his gaze, piercing him with her admission, with raw, agonizing honesty. He knew he shouldn’t be scared. He was a single, unattached male who had nothing to lose.

  Nothing but his heart.

  Did he love her, too? Was all the craziness love? The desperate need? The way he longed to protect her? His fear of losing her? Of surviving without her by his side?

  Walker picked up his water and took a long, hard swallow. But the ice-cold liquid didn’t sober him. He should’ve figured it out before now. He should’ve known. “It’s happening to me, too. You’re not alone in this.”

  “Oh, God. Really?” She closed the food cartons, keeping herself busy, nearly dropping the leftover egg rolls. Nervous. Excited. “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know.” His pulse zigzagged, beating frantically beneath his skin. “Can’t we just ignore it? Forget that we talked about?” He sent her an anxious smile. “Maybe just go nuts in the hot tub instead?”

  She smiled, too. But it was just as shaky, just as unsteady as his. “Trust a man to look for sex as the answer.”

  “You can’t blame a guy for trying.” He couldn’t think of anything else to do, so he stood up and gathered the cartons she’d closed. “I’ll put these away.”

  She rose to her feet, as well. “I’ll wipe down the table and throw away the trash.”

  Cleanup duty took a matter of minutes, which left them in the kitchen, staring at each other beneath bright, blinding lights. He wondered if they should have taken the fortunes out of their cookies, used those silly little slips of paper for encouragement.