Cole Cameron's Revenge

by Sandra Marton

  Stop it! she thought, and gave him a cool smile. "I'll tell Peter you stopped by before you left." "Did I say I was leaving, Faith?"

  "Excuse me?"

  "This is my home. Why should I leave it?"

  "Because you don't live here." She took a deep breath.

  "I'm going to fight you for Cameron House."

  "You'll lose," he said flatly. "That's if you can even find a lawyer to represent you."

  Faith took her hands from her pockets and folded her arms over her chest. "I'll find one."

  "Just be sure and tell him you can't pay him a retainer. Or do you have some money hidden away that you can tap into?" "Once the house is mine, I'll sell it. There'll be enough

  money to pay legal fees and give Peter and me a fresh start." "Ah. So, you're doing this for the boy's sake."

  "Yes," she snapped, stung by the disdain in his smile.

  "That's exactly why I'm doing it, not that it's any of your business."

  "Move, just like that? Uproot Pete-­

  "Peter."

  "Uproot Pete from his home, his school, his friends, after he's just lost his father? Hell, Faith, I know the bright lights are probably beckoning, but maybe you should try considering the kid's needs, too."

  "For your information," she said, her voice trembling, "Peter hates living here. He has no friends."

  "Why not?"

  "Because-because this is Liberty. I don't know where you've been the last years, Cole, but the town's the same as it always was. People gossip. They make judgments. When Ted was alive, they deferred to him but now that he's gone..."

  She fell silent, but she'd said enough. He understood. Faith had dated him. He'd gone away and she'd gotten involved with his brother. That would have set tongues wagging but then she'd taken things a step further, gotten herself knocked up. Maybe that wouldn't be worth more than a raised eyebrow if the cast of characters had been different, but a hurry-up wedding between a Cameron and a Davenport would have been juicy news. In Liberty, it would probably stay news for the next hundred years.

  "Hell," he said softly.

  She nodded. "Exactly."

  "And things have gotten worse since Ted's death, haven't they?"

  "I guess you could say the gloves have come off. Peter doesn't get invited to anybody's house to play, or to go to parties. He's-he's pretty much an outcast."

  "What you mean," Cole said coldly, "is that the boy is paying for your sins."

  She looked up, eyes flashing. "You're a fine one to talk about sin. You left this town and never once looked back to see if I-to see if your brother needed you."

  "Why would he, when he had you?"

  "Damn you, Cole Cameron! You have no idea what my life was like after you left. If it hadn't been for Ted-" She stared at him, eyes blurred with sudden tears, knowing she'd been dancing on the edge of saying things she must never say. She swallowed the angry words, whirled away from him grabbed a paper napkin from the holder on the counter and wiped her eyes. "This is senseless. The past is dead. The only thing that matters is the future. My son's future. And that future isn't in this godforsaken town."

  ``I agree."

  Faith turned slowly and looked into Cole's face. "Do you mean that?"

  "Absolutely." A muscle knotted in his jaw. "You're right. I'd forgotten what this town can be like. Give it some gossip and it'll worry it like a dog with a bone."

  "Yes," she said quickly, "that's right. That's why I need to-"

  "You need to bring the town to its knees."

  She gave a quick, bitter laugh. "And pigs can fly. I can't do that, Cole. Ted could. Well, not really. Even he could only get people to pretend to accept Peter but-"

  "I can."

  She blinked. "You?"

  "That's right." Cole leaned back against the sink, one foot crossed over the other, arms folded. It was a casual stance but there was a purposefulness to his posture, a flatness in his eyes that sent a warning tingle down Faith's spine. "What's the matter, baby?" His words were soft and taunting. "Don't you think I can make this whole damn town wish it had never heard the name `Cameron'?"

  Faith hesitated. "Look, all I want-"

  "Did I ask what you wanted?"

  "All I need is some money, just enough to get started some­where." She drew a deep breath. "I'll make a deal with you."

  He grinned, a quick slash of white teeth in his tanned face. "You'll make a deal with me?"

  "You keep the house. I won't fight you for it. Just just let Peter and me go on living here for a while, until I find a job. Until I sort things out..."

  "Maybe I could let you live here until I sell the house," he said gently. "And then give you, say, fifty percent of the sale price. How's that sound?"

  It sounded too good to be true. He was setting a trap. She knew it. She just couldn't figure out how to avoid stepping in it.

  "Well," she said carefully, "that would be ...it would be very generous. And-­

  "And you'd be ever so grateful. Am I right, Faith?"

  "I would be, of course. I mean-"

  "You don't have to explain what you mean." Cole moved quickly. She thought he was going to walk by her and she started to get out of his way but he slipped his arms around her and even as she brought up her elbows and tried to jam her hands against his chest, his hand was in her hair, forcing her head back as he lowered his mouth to hers.

  His kiss was a savage avowal of desire. She tried to tear her mouth from his but he wouldn't permit it. He used his teeth and tongue, penetrating her, forcing her to open to him. She hated him for it, hated him, hated him even as she moaned and let him bend her back over his arm and kiss her until there was nothing in the universe but the man who held her captive to his passion, and to hers.

  He drew back first, ending the kiss even as her hands curled into his shirt. His hands clasped her shoulders; he held her out in front of him, his eyes blazing.

  "My brother didn't have a chance," he said gruffly. "The poor bastard was lost the second you went after him."

  "Get out of my house." Her voice shook. She could feel his fingers marking her flesh. "Get out!"

  "We've had this conversation, remember?" She tried to wrench away from him again but he wouldn't let her. "I told you that you can't throw a man out of his own home."

  "And I told you, I'm prepared to fight you in court. Every­body seems to think the Camerons are invulnerable. Well, not anymore. I know how the world works, Cole. Money is power. And the Cameron money is-" She stumbled as Cole sud­denly let go of her. He dug out his wallet, removed a card and tossed it on the table. Faith eyed it with suspicion. "What's that?"

  "It's the reason you're not going to fight me. Go on. Take a look."

  She took the card from the table. Raised black letters were set on heavy ivory vellum. The design was understated, almost elegant, but she handled it with caution, as if it were a bomb that might go off.

  "Read it out loud."

  She took a breath. "'Cole Cameron."' Her tone was hesi­tant. "`Cameron Oil. Cameron Exploration. Cameron Energy Resources. Cameron Invest..."'

  "Investments," Cole said coldly, when her voice began to tremble. She looked up, the color fading from her face. "That's me, baby. Liberty's prize package. It's been an inter­esting nine years."

  "Yes. So I---so I see. You've-you've gone into business."

  He laughed. "Let's just say that I need this house and the three-quarters of a million it might bring the way a snake needs shoes."

  Faith moistened her lips. "Then-then why...?"

  "Why not let you have it? I could. I could burn the house to the ground, hand you a check for what it's worth and never once blink." He reached out, ran a finger down her cheek. She stared at him, mesmerized, and he remembered stumbling across a gazelle and a lion face-to-face in the desert. The ga­zelle had trembled with terror but the certainty of the outcome had kept it immobilized. "But I won't," he said softly, "be­cause I know what you are."

  "Cole. The past is dead
. What I'm asking you for is Peter's future.'

  "Exactly. The boy is my brother's son. And Ted was my flesh and blood. I shouldn't have held him responsible for what you'd done. I loved him." His voice cracked; he drew a ragged breath. "Peter's a Cameron. So am I" His mouth twisted. "You're trash. You always will be."

  "Damn you!" Tears of rage glittered in Faith's eyes. "Why did you have to come back? I hate you. I hate you with all my heart!"

  "That makes things simpler all around. We can dispense with the pretense."

  "I don't know what you're talking about." She stepped back. "And I don't care. I'll manage without any help from you. Peter and I-­

  "Peter's no longer your problem."

  "My problem?" She laughed. "He's my son. I love him. Is that beyond you to comprehend?"

  "I considered throwing you into the street," Cole said calmly. "It's where you belong. But I can see that the boy loves you. And that you love him, in your own way. So I'm going to let you stay around, Faith. You can continue to be his mother."

  "You're crazy." Faith whirled away and from him. "You aren't God! You can't `let' me continue to be my son's-"

  "I'll do whatever is best for my brother's child." Cole turned her toward him. "I don't just have money. I have friends. Powerful friends. They'd all agree that you're unfit to raise Peter."

  "You're bluffing," she said breathlessly. "You couldn't-"

  "You think so?" He smiled tightly. "Then call my bluff. See which of us comes out the winner. Me-or the woman who slept with me, then with my brother. Who got what she wanted and then drove my brother into another woman's arms.,

  "You don't know how ridiculous that is!"

  "Ted died on the road to Atlanta. The whole town knows why he was there, Faith, that you'd denied him the pleasure of your bed."

  Faith laughed. She couldn't help it. Nothing was funny but the laughter rose in her throat in one long hysterical wave and burst free. Cole's eyes turned to chips of green ice.

  "Go on. Laugh. But I promise, you'll lose the boy...unless you cooperate."

  "Ah." She twisted free of his hands. "Here we go. The big bribe. `Sleep with me, Faith, and I won't take your child from you.' Did I get that right?"

  "Not quite." Cole's eyes locked onto hers. "I'm not asking you to sleep with me, baby. I'm telling you that you're going to become my wife."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  FAITH looked at him as if he'd just told her he believed in flying saucers.

  Cole cursed himself for being a fool. He'd intended to lead up to the idea, not drop it on her all at once.

  He'd spent the past hours trying to figure out what to do about Peter. Offer to pay the boy's tuition at some classy boarding school? That would get him away from Faith's in­fluence, all right, but the thought of sending such a little kid off to face the unknown made him uneasy. He wanted to help the boy, not hurt him.

  He'd considered moving Faith and Peter out of Liberty to a place where he could keep an eye on them. New York, maybe, where his main offices were located. He'd find them an apartment, pay the bills, get the boy into a good private day school. Then he'd thought about the things Faith might do to fill her time. He'd phoned Jergen, who said she hadn't taken any lovers he'd heard of, but in a big city, without a man to ride herd on her, who knew what she'd do? Not that he gave a damn, personally. It was Peter who mattered, and he didn't want Peter raised in such an atmosphere.

  Still, he had to do something. It was too late to walk up to Ted, put his arms around him and say he was sorry for the years of cold silence. There were times he thought his brother had been the only reason he'd made it through the first eigh­teen years of life. Ted had always been there for him. He could be there now, for Ted's kid. But how?

  He'd sat in that bar, drinking beer, trying and trying to come up with a solution when some guy, already half in the bag, climbed onto the next stool and started whining about the dif­ficulties of keeping a woman in line.

  "A man's got to be on his toes," the guy had said, knocking back a whiskey. "Can't trust a woman to do the right thing unless he's watchin' her twenty-four hours a day. Can't even trust her to do the right thing with a kid."

  That was when he began thinking about taking Peter away from Faith and raising the kid himself. What were the chances a court would let him do that? Zero to none, probably, but he had an office full of high-priced legal talent on retainer. Let the lawyers earn their bread wrestling with the problem. Not that a court battle would really provide a solution. The boy would still be living with his mother. She'd be his primary influence.

  "Men ain't go no rights anymore," the guy on the next stool grumbled. "And thass dead wrong. A boy needs his dad to keep an eye on things."

  "Yeah," Cole had agreed, even though his old man being around hadn't done him any good. But it didn't have to be that way. Ted had influenced Peter. You could see it in the way the boy behaved. He was a nice kid. But those days were over. Faith was in charge, now. Faith, not the boy's father. Not the boy's paternal flesh and blood.

  It all added up. Peter needed a father. Faith needed a man to straighten things out in her life. Who could do any of it better than he? He shared Peter's blood. He knew Faith was a scheming bitch behind that angelic exterior.

  Cole had tossed a ten-dollar bill on the bar, clapped the guy beside him on the back and told him to have the next one on him. He'd gotten into the Jag and while he drove to the house, he'd told himself there had to be some other way-and then he'd listened to Faith talk about Peter's life...

  ... listened to her, and looked at her, and felt the old, hated stirrings of lust.

  To hell with that. He'd marry her because he had to. Be­cause it was logical-but he should have kept quiet until he'd worked out the details. Then, maybe, she wouldn't be looking at him as if he'd lost his sanity.

  "Excuse me?" she said, after what seemed like an eternity slipped by. "I thought-I thought you said..." Her voice faded away. His first inclination was to fill th­e silence by telling her she'd misunderstood. He could still back away from a plan that made his gut churn. No. There was too much at stake. He had an obligation to his brother's child and he'd fulfill it. So he composed his features and spoke as calmly as if he were laying out a new plan for one of his managers.

  "I said that you're going to marry me."

  She stared at him while the seconds dragged on. He'd won­dered what her reaction would be, wondered what effect his words would have on her. What he hadn't figured was that she'd laugh.

  "Marry you?" she said, gasping for breath. "You're asking me to..."

  "Yes," he snapped, and she laughed harder. It enraged him. She'd have leaped at his proposal nine years ago. It would have been a commitment of love for him. For her, it would have been a ticket out of the trailer park.

  What a fool he'd been, not to have seen through her.

  "I'm not asking you," he said coldly. "I'm telling you. You're going to be my wife."

  "Cole." Faith shook her head. "I know it's an old custom in some places, that a man is obligated to take care of his brother's wife by marrying her, but-"

  "I don't give a damn for old customs and I sure as hell don't feel any obligation to you." He folded his arms over his chest. "My responsibility is to Ted. You're not fit to raise his son alone."

  "Not fit to raise... What are you, a one man morality com­mittee? You walked out of-of your brother's life. Let's not pretend you've suddenly turned into a paragon of virtue."

  He jabbed his hands into his pockets, curled them into fists, told himself it would only make things worse to grab her and shake her.

  "You were the reason for the trouble between Ted and me, you and your determination to snare a Cameron any way you could."

  "And what woman wouldn't want that prize," she said sar­castically.

  "Ted's gone. All that's left of him is his son. And, for Peter, all that's left of his father is me."

  "Blood is thicker than water, right?" Faith folded her arms. "If it is, ho
w come you didn't speak to Ted for years?"

  "I was wrong. I admit it, I made a mistake-and I'm not going to make another. I'm going to see it that the boy s raised the way Ted would have wanted." He took a breath, then let it out. "If you think this through, you'll see that this is the right thing for Peter."

  Her eyes narrowed. "And I'm sure you'll see why I'm tell­ing you to take your feelings of guilt and stuff them. In other words, go to hell. I'd sooner marry the devil than marry you."

  Faith stalked into the living room, plucked a throw pillow from the couch and punched it into shape. It was either that or punch him in the face. How could he stand there and tell her such a thing? Marry me, he said, as if he were king of the world and she were some pathetic peasant...

  ...And how could her heart have given the tiniest lurch, as if the years had rolled back and the man she'd once loved really was asking her to share his life?

  His hand closed on her shoulder. "You're making this dif­ficult."

  "Am I?" She could feel her throat constricting. "Ah. I see. You thought I'd hear your little speech and tumble into a graceful heap, romantic that I am."

  "I never took you for a stupid woman, Faith, but you sure as hell are being stupid now."

  "Such is life. Console yourself with the thought that I'll look back someday and kick myself for turning down this magnificent offer."

  "Let me spell it out for you, okay? You're broke. Your rosy future depends on fast-talking me into letting you stay on in this house-or convincing me to give you money so you can make that supposed new start. What are you planning? A crummy furnished room in Atlanta? A job flipping hamburg­ers? That's some hell of a life you've worked out for Peter, isn't it?"

  It was a frighteningly accurate description of what she feared lay ahead but she'd never admit that to him.

  "You've been watching too many old movies," she said Coolly.