The Enemy's Daughter

by Linda Turner

  “Whatever you say, Mom,” he answered. “You’re the boss.”

  Standing pale and shaken in the hallway with a tray full of snacks, Lise heard every word of Steve’s side of the conversation and felt her heart drop to her knees. For days now, she’d been pretending he was the man she needed him to be, a man she could trust. And all this time, he’d been waiting for the chance to heal so he could make his move. A move, she thought bitterly, that had nothing to do with her. The only Meldrum he wanted was her father.

  Simon will be home the day after tomorrow…. I want backup waiting nearby, no more than ten minutes away…. I think it’s fair to say I’ve convinced the other men that I’m after Lise. They don’t have a clue why I’m really here.

  Over and over again, the hurtful words replayed in her head, words she never would have heard if she hadn’t rushed to return to his side, and it was all she could do not to cry out in pain. How could the man who had just made love to her so tenderly be such a monster? Was he really that cold? Even now, she didn’t want to believe it, but he couldn’t have been clearer if he’d carved his words in stone. She was nothing to him. Nothing.

  She had to warn her father.

  Devastated, she knew she couldn’t put it off any longer. Steve was going to have men waiting for him. If she didn’t warn him, he’d walk right into a trap.

  No! her heart cried out. She couldn’t stand by and let that happen. Her father didn’t deserve that. He might not be the most attentive father in the world, but at least he wasn’t a monster like Steve. She had to call him. Now!

  The decision made, she soundlessly made her way downstairs and hurried into the study. Taking time only to set the tray of snacks on the desk, she quickly snatched up the phone and punched in the number of her father’s cell phone.

  “Lise!” her father said in surprise, answering the call before his voice mail could take it. “I wasn’t expecting to hear from you until tomorrow. What are you doing home so soon? Is there a problem or did the roundup finish ahead of schedule?”

  “Actually, Dad, there is a problem,” she said shakily. “You can’t come home for the barbecue.”

  They didn’t have the kind of relationship where they joked around or played tricks on each other—they weren’t that close. Which in this particular case was an advantage. He knew immediately that she was serious.

  “What’s wrong?”

  At his grim tone, tears welled in her eyes. How was she going to tell him that he was being betrayed by someone he considered a friend? “It’s Steve.”

  “Steve Trace?”

  Swallowing the lump in her throat, she said huskily, “Yes. He’s not your friend, Dad.”

  “No, he’s not,” he agreed. “He did a favor for me once, and I returned it by giving him a job. What’s going on, Lise? What’s he done that’s got you so upset?”

  Her heart breaking, she had no choice but to tell him. “I think he was sent by some of your old mining enemies. Before the roundup, when he was just supposed to be using the phone in your study, I caught him on the computer.”

  “Why? Did you question him about it? What was he after?”

  “No, I didn’t question him. I thought it would be better to wait and see if he made a comment about it, which he did. He said he was trying to find some information about how to treat a medical problem his father has. But then he broke into the cabin.”

  If anything would set her father’s back up, she knew it was that. She didn’t have to wait long for his reaction.

  “Oh, really?” he said silkily.

  “I don’t know what he was looking for, but I think he must have searched the place. I followed him and overheard him on his cell phone. He was mad because he hadn’t found anything and kept talking about someone named Simon. Do you know who that is?”

  For a minute, she didn’t think he was going to answer her. Cold, empty silence echoed across the phone line, and there was something about the very nature of it that chilled her blood. Suddenly frightened and not sure why, she said hesitantly, “Dad? Are you all right?”

  No, he wasn’t. So SPEAR had invaded his home space. No doubt, Jonah thought he finally had him cornered. Like hell! Jonah and his agents were the ones who were coming down. All he needed was a little more time.

  “Don’t worry about Mr. Trace,” he finally said coldly. “I’ll take care of him.”

  “But he’s set a trap for you! I overheard him on the phone just a minute ago. He didn’t say what his plans are, but there are other people involved. They’re going to be waiting for you when you fly in for the barbecue. Please don’t come, Dad. I really think they’re going to hurt you.”

  “I’ve got it taken care of,” he repeated. “Continue with the barbecue, as scheduled, and leave Steve to me.”

  He hung up without another word, just as he always did. Lise knew she shouldn’t have been hurt—her father never seemed to have time to say goodbye, and she’d gotten used to that over the years—but this time, it was like a slap in the face. She was only trying to protect him, dammit! The least he could have done was take a few more minutes to reassure her before he hung up. She was worried about him.

  That’s just his way, a voice in her head said. You know how he is. Don’t take it personally.

  She’d been telling herself that for as long as she could remember, shrugging off her father’s coldness by reminding herself that he treated everyone that way so there was no reason to think he’d gone out of his way to be cold just to her. This was the man he’d become after her mother died. Knowing that usually made it easier for her to accept his indifference, but this time, it didn’t help. He could have at least thanked her for warning him.

  There was, however, no time to dwell on her hurt feelings. Not when Steve was in the bedroom, waiting for the snack she’d promised him. By now, he’d no doubt started to wonder where she was. How, she thought wildly, was she going to face him without him guessing what she’d been up to? She’d never been any good at hiding things—her face was too expressive. He’d take one look at her and know she’d been up to something suspicious.

  “Act normal,” she told herself sternly. “You just made love, for heaven’s sake! Distract him with a couple of kisses and he won’t have time to look at your face.”

  That sounded good, but as she started up the stairs, she was a nervous wreck. Her heart was in her throat, and her hands were shaking so badly she was sure she was going to drop the tray of snacks she’d almost forgotten at the last minute. She dragged in a deep breath, released it slowly and forced a smile. She didn’t have to look in the mirror to know that it was strained, but considering the circumstances, it was the best she could do.

  “Here we go,” she said brightly as she stepped into the bedroom to find him still in her bed, looking strong and sexy against her white sheets. “Sorry I was gone so long, but I couldn’t find the crackers. Every time I think I know where things are in the kitchen, Cookie moves things around. He’s one of those people who needs change all the time to keep life interesting.”

  She knew she was chattering, but she couldn’t seem to stop. “So what would you like? We’ve got cheese and crackers, some of Cookie’s shrimp salad, and brownies. The salad’s delicious. Cookie uses this special secret seasoning—”

  “Are you all right?”

  No! She wanted to cry. She was a basket case, and if he didn’t stop looking at her so worriedly, she was going to collapse in a heap and confess everything. “Actually,” she lied huskily, “I’m feeling a little dizzy. I think I must be coming down with something.”

  That was the only excuse she could think of on the spur of the moment to explain her odd behavior, and too late, she realized it was the last thing she should have said. The words were hardly out of her mouth before he hurriedly jumped out of bed. Stark naked, he quickly moved to take the tray from her.

  “Why didn’t you say something?” he scolded. “You should have called me—I’d have carried that upstairs for you. Here
—let me have that.”

  Quickly taking the tray from her, he set it on a table by the window, then turned to help her into bed. “Do you have a fever?” His hand settled on her forehead. Just that easily, he heated her blood. “You are a little warm,” he said with a frown. “Have you got any aspirin in the bathroom? Hang on, and I’ll get you some.”

  “No. I’m sure I’m fine—”

  She might as well have saved her breath. He didn’t give her time to argue, but simply disappeared into her private bathroom. A few seconds later, he was back, not only with the aspirin and a cup of water, but also a damp washcloth. “This’ll make you feel better, I promise.”

  Lise didn’t think she would ever feel better again, but that was something she could hardly tell him. Dutifully, she downed the aspirin, then eyed the washcloth suspiciously. “What’s that for?”

  “Your head,” he replied promptly. “Lie down.”

  “You don’t have to baby me, Steve. I’m fine. Really. I probably just took the stairs too quickly.”

  “You look awfully pale,” he argued. “Lie down and let me take care of you.”

  That was the last thing she wanted—and the one thing her heart longed for. Torn, she hesitated, feeling more vulnerable than she’d ever felt in her life, but in the end, she couldn’t resist letting him fuss over her. Obediently, she leaned back.

  “Good girl,” he growled softly, and gently set the damp folded washcloth over her forehead and eyes. “Just rest and try to go back to sleep. I’ll be here all night if you need me.”

  Tears sprang to her eyes at that, but with the washcloth across half her face, he couldn’t see them, thank God—or how badly her heart was breaking. And even if he could have, she doubted that he would have cared. After all, she was just a convenience he used to get to her father.

  Swallowing the sob that rose in her throat, she felt him lie down beside her and draw the covers over the two of them, and it was all she could do not to turn into his arms and cry her eyes out. Life just wasn’t fair sometimes. It seemed like she’d waited all her life for a man who didn’t give a flip that she wasn’t petite and blonde. A man who cherished her and made her feel special…and loved. And now that God had finally sent her one, he only cared about two things—bringing her father down…and a woman named Belinda. And that hurt.

  Why, she wondered, couldn’t he have been a cold, unfeeling monster who didn’t care about anyone but himself? Then he would have been easier to hate. But it was hard to dislike a man who was so solicitous of her. Even as she struggled with her secret tears, she felt him gently stroke her hair, then lift the washcloth to check her temperature.

  Lying perfectly still, not moving a muscle, she should have told him to stop. She was only torturing herself by letting him continue. But knowing that, she still couldn’t bring herself to say anything. Not yet. Not when his touch felt so good. She just needed a few more moments.

  Caught up in the wonder of his gentle care, she couldn’t have said exactly when she fell asleep. One second, she felt the stroke of his hand over her hair, and the next, she couldn’t stay awake. With a silent sigh, she drifted into sleep, loving the feel of him next to her.

  She didn’t sleep long. Her dreams wouldn’t let her. Over and over again, her brain replayed her conversation with her father. I’ve got it taken care of…leave Steve to me. What had he meant by that? Her imagination supplied all sorts of answers, and each one chilled her to the bone, making it impossible for her to sleep. She’d never heard her father sound quite so cold before. If he’d spoken of her that way, she’d have been scared to death. And that worried her. Surely he wouldn’t hurt Steve. Would he?

  Images haunted her dreams, and she came awake to find Steve leaning over her, trying to soothe her as she tossed and turned restlessly. “It’s okay, sweetheart. Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Her heart pounding, she stared at him searchingly in the moonlight. “What happened?”

  “You were calling my name in your sleep,” he said huskily. “Are you okay?”

  If his concern wasn’t genuine, he should have been acting in Hollywood. Tears stung her eyes, and she prayed he couldn’t see them in the darkness. “I guess I was dreaming,” she said thickly. “I don’t remember.”

  “How are you feeling? Can I get you anything? Some soup? Crackers? Gardenias?”

  Reaching over, he stroked her hair again, and that was nearly her undoing. She doubted that there was any kind of flower for a thousand miles, but if she asked for some, she knew he would find a way to get them for her. And that only confused her more. One second, she was sure he was there to hurt her father, and the next, he was treating her like she was the most precious thing on earth. Who was this man, really? Would she ever know now that she’d called her father?

  Second thoughts hit her from all directions. She whispered, “No. I don’t need anything. Just some rest.”

  And a chance to turn back the clock. She buried her face in the pillow and wondered, too late, if she’d made a horrible mistake by calling her father. What if she’d misunderstood that conversation she’d overheard from the hallway? Her father was going to come in and squash him like a bug, and he might be totally innocent.

  Sick at the thought of what she might have set in motion, she didn’t know what to do. She didn’t want her father hurt, but she didn’t want Steve hurt, either. Dear God, what had she done?

  Chapter 11

  She should have called her father back and told him she’d made a mistake. She wasn’t very good at lying, but she could have found a way to make him believe her. All she had to do was convince him she’d misunderstood what she’d seen and heard. How difficult could it be?

  All that night and the next morning, guilt nagged her. It would take all of two minutes to make the call, she told herself. But just the thought of trying to get a lie past her father made her sick to her stomach. He’d see through her in a heartbeat. And he wasn’t a man who tolerated being lied to. She told herself there had to be another way.

  But none presented itself, and finally, she was reluctantly forced to admit she had no choice. She had to make the call. The only problem was every time she tried to slip away to the study to make the call in private, it seemed Steve was right there, blocking her path. Before she knew it, the morning was gone.

  And she’d heard nothing from her father.

  Trying not to panic, she told herself that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. Since she’d talked to him last night, he’d had time to think about her warning and had probably decided she was being paranoid. That was why she hadn’t heard from him. He wasn’t going to do anything.

  Clinging to that thought, she heard vehicles in the drive and glanced out the front windows in time to see Tuck and the others pass on their way to the barn and bunkhouse. Thank God, she thought with a sigh of relief. Everyone was back, her father was nowhere in sight, and life could return to normal. All she had to do was get through the barbecue tomorrow.

  There was, she supposed, still an outside possibility that her father might not show at all. Granted, he’d never missed a barbecue yet, but for some reason, things were different this year. He was more distracted than usual, and even though the barbecue wasn’t until tomorrow, he should have been home by now. He loved the roundup, and in the past, he’d always showed up several days before it ended to get in some work with his favorite cutting horse and the cattle. But not this time. The odds seemed to be in her favor that he wouldn’t show at all.

  And for the first time in her life, she truly hoped he wouldn’t. She hadn’t known the man she’d talked to last night. He’d been so cold and hard that she’d felt like she was talking to a stranger—and a very menacing stranger, at that—and that scared her. In spite of the fact that she and her father had never been close, she’d always felt like she knew who he was. Until last night. He’d sounded like he was capable of anything, and that had her worried.

  “It looks like you survived the last week taking ca
re of the Yank,” Cookie said from the doorway to the living room. “How’d it go?”

  If circumstances had been different, she might have told him about her father and Steve and the concerns twisting in her gut. After all, he’d practically raised her, and there’d been a time in the not too distant past when she’d felt like she could completely trust him and her father and every other man in her life. Not anymore. She didn’t know if she was changing or everyone else was, but she wasn’t the trusting innocent she’d once been. From now on, she decided, she’d keep her own counsel.

  So she forced a smile as she turned to face Cookie and told him nothing more than he could see for himself. “Just fine,” she said easily. “Steve’s finally back on his feet, so I imagine he’s gone out to the barn to help the others unload everything. He’ll be going back to work after the barbecue. So how’d the last week go? I guess you didn’t have any more problems or I would have heard something.”

  “We could have used a break in the heat, but other than that, everything went like clockwork,” he said just as casually, giving away little of his thoughts. “Has your dad arrived yet? I thought he’d be here by now.”

  “Not yet. I talked to him last night, but he didn’t say when he’d make it in. I got the impression, though, that it wouldn’t be until tomorrow.”

  Deliberately changing the subject to the barbecue, she said, “I thought maybe we could prepare some things ahead of time so tomorrow won’t be so hectic, so I’ve already made the fruit salad. What else would you like for me to do? Fix the marinade or make dessert?”

  Cookie was justifiably proud of his barbecue, so Lise wasn’t the least bit surprised when he immediately said, “You do the dessert. I’ll handle the marinade.” He didn’t let her or anyone else touch his marinade.