Secrets (10 page)

Regina recovered her senses, remembering that this man had lied to her; still very aware of how he had been fighting with Slade, she whirled. “That's quite all right. I have tended to myself; thank you for your concern.” Her words were very clipped and precise because of her anger, but she did not raise her voice even a decibel.

Rick's expression was hangdog. “You're mad.”

She lifted a brow.

“Look, I don't blame you, but it's not fair for you to be mad at me without even hearing my side of things.”

“I
would
like an explanation. I do not believe I am used to being deceived.”

Slade stood, almost knocking over his chair. “You're making a big mistake,” he told her.

She looked at him. He stood before her, a relentless and volatile force, tension seething about him so hotly it was almost visible. “I'm only going to talk with your father. He owes me some honesty.”

Slade was angry. He looked at Rick. “Just how honest are you going to be with her? Don't you think you can give her a break? She doesn't even know who she is, for Christ's sake.
Leave her alone
.”

Regina was stunned—Slade was trying to protect her from Rick.

“You stay out of this, boy,” Rick said tightly. “This is between me and her. An' don't think I've forgotten for a second that she's got that amnesia.”

“Slade,” Regina said, touching his arm. She gave him a warm aching smile. “I'll be fine.”

“Like hell.”

“Give me a chance,” Rick cajoled her.

Regina turned toward him. “All right.”

Rick took her arm. He glanced darkly at Slade. “You're not invited. We all know where you stand.”

“No,” Slade said. “No one knows where I stand!” He strode from the room.

Regina didn't have a chance to watch him go or to call after him. Rick was guiding her into the corridor. “Let's go to my study where we can have some privacy,” he said.

He was smiling and friendly. He seemed so genuine that Regina had to remind herself that this man was not as he appeared. She had to remind herself that he had lied to her, that he had attempted to use her.

His study was cool and dark. Rick closed the heavy redwood door behind them and led her to a leather easy chair. He sat opposite her behind his desk. “I wish you'd
come to me first, before trying to leave like you did, in the middle of a storm,” he said.

“I was angry.”

Rick shook his head ruefully. “I guess I don't blame you.”

“You lied to me,” Regina said coolly.

“I didn't lie to you. I just didn't tell you everything,” Rick said.

“I fail to see the difference.”

“There
is
a difference, a big difference. Your father and I did grow up together, and you can ask anyone around here if you must. We arranged the marriage between you and James because we both wanted it. George wanted you to be mistress of Miramar, and he wanted your son to be the boss.”

“And you wanted my money.”

“I won't lie. I didn't lie. We need your money, Elizabeth. We're cash-poor. Most big spreads like this are cash-poor. It's not unusual and it's no secret. Just like it's nothing to be ashamed about.
But we're land-rich
. And we're rich in cattle, horses, and heritage.” Rick's eyes snapped with excitement. “Money can buy land like this, but not the tradition, the heritage, the past that goes with it. But it sure as hell can buy the future. Yes, we need some cash. But look at what you're getting!”

Regina followed Rick's bright gaze, thinking that father and son had so much in common in the love they shared for Miramar. She looked out the open doors of the terrace to the south, at the jagged line of starkly gold, treeless, imposing mountains where they painted a sharp line against the vivid blue sky. Directly ahead of her, the hillside sloped down, disappearing when it collided abruptly with the Pacific. And to her right, pines pointed at the sky. The view was breathtaking. She couldn't help but agree with Rick. He was right. Money could buy a lot of things but it couldn't buy a home like this. Regina doubted there were two such places in existence in all of God's creation.

“Honey,” Rick said, smiling, “I may want cash, but that doesn't mean you're not family to me. George was
like my brother—like the brother I never had. You're his daughter. And James loved you. He was my son, my first child. Your welfare is important to me. How could it not be?”

Regina tore her gaze from the splendor that was Miramar and looked at him, filled with conflicting needs. She didn't really want to leave. And there was no question that she found Miramar very appealing. Right now she was a woman without a home or a past, and the idea of finding that here was very seductive. Yet the instinctive need to protect herself balanced the scales. But why should she think he was lying? Caring about her and needing money were not mutually exclusive propositions. Not necessarily. Not when one considered the entire set of circumstances, not when one considered the history between Rick Delanza and George Sinclair.

Rick smiled. “Is it so wrong to hope you and Slade might like each other and want to marry? Is it so wrong for me to want to bring you into the family as George and I intended? Slade is now my heir. He's fighting that, because he plumb likes to fight me, but he'll do his duty, you wait and see.”

“Meaning he'll marry me?” Her tone was calm, but inwardly her heart had skittered.

“I didn't exactly mean that,” Rick said, leaning back comfortably in his chair. “I meant he'll inherit Miramar. Like he should. Of course, I hope he'll come around and want to marry you. But I can't force him to it, just like I can't force you.”

Regina tried very hard to be calm. She tried very hard not to let his words sway her. She tried very hard not to think about the possibility that she and Slade might eventually “like each other and want to marry.”

“I still want you to stay here, Elizabeth, until you recover, anyway, and maybe by then you'll decide you want to stay—maybe you'll decide my son isn't so bad. God knows, there's lots of women who would give their right arms just for the chance to marry Slade.”

Regina's hands were trembling, and she clasped them firmly so Rick wouldn't see. She could well imagine that
most women would take one look at Slade and do just about anything he asked.

Slade was filling her thoughts. But suddenly she sensed the presence of another man, someone who seemed intent on struggling up through the depths of her mind. She tensed. For an instant his image was there, but it was dark and shadowy and unformed. Then it disappeared, and she wondered if her mind was playing tricks upon her, if she had been about to remember someone at all. Yet if she had, had it been James?

“What is it?” Rick asked sharply, peering at her.

She touched her throbbing temple. “I think I was about to remember something, someone, but then it disappeared. Yesterday the same thing happened.”

“Well, that's just great!”

Regina barely heard him. Yesterday, she was almost positive, she had been about to remember someone else. Was her memory trying to return? She could not contain the hope swelling in her breast. And then it occurred to her that if she had loved James, when her memory returned so would that love. She grew very still.

“As soon as you remember something, you tell me,” Rick was saying. “The sheriff wants to speak with you when you do remember, even if it's still hazy.”

Regina was motionless. The excitement was not only gone, now there was fear in her heart instead. Some things were definitely better left unrecalled.

Her fear must have shown, because Rick leaned across the desk and patted her hand. “Don't you worry none about the sheriff. It's just routine.”

It wasn't the sheriff she was worrying about. She was worrying about how she would feel about James when she recovered from this mental lapse. And when she did recover, what would happen to her relationship with Slade?

“So?” Rick smiled. “You gonna accept some old-fashioned hospitality?”

Regina looked at him. She fought for a smile. Suddenly there was comfort in the fact that her memory
had yet to return, forestalling what might be a horrible dilemma. “Yes, I will stay.”

Rick beamed. His smile was so hearty that Regina had to smile back.

R
ick closed the door to his study, thinking about the girl. He had concluded his interview with Regina Shelton a few moments ago, convincing her to stay.

He heaved a sigh of relief. It had been a close call. Close, but not fatal. Slowly he smiled, hands clasped behind his back, staring out the wide-open windows and across the sloping hillside. The sweep of saddleback mountains in the south and the expanse of steel-gray ocean in the west never failed to thrill him. Pride swelled his chest as he regarded the land that was Miramar, that was his, and that would one day be Slade's.

Thinking of Slade made him grim, and in the next heartbeat, he thought of James. Pain crashed over him. It would never go away, he knew that. It was worse than anything he'd ever experienced, and he'd been through a hell of a lot. His first wife had died in childbirth, and although that had been an arranged marriage, he'd been fond of her, and no woman deserved such an untimely death. Catherine had been the only gentlewoman in his life; neither Pauline, Slade's mother, nor Victoria, deserved such an appellation.

It occurred to Rick that Regina Shelton was also a gentlewoman, and that she reminded him of Catherine.

Catherine's death had only been the beginning of the series of personal tragedies besetting him in his lifetime. He and his father had been running the rancho together until a heart attack had struck his father, leaving him alive but paralyzed and incapable of speech. Rick had loved his father, but that day his father had seemed to die, leaving only a shell of a man in his place. He had watched him physically waste away over the course of two long, agonizing years until death mercifully claimed his body as well as his heart and soul.

Pauline had left him by then. She had been the only woman he'd ever loved, and she'd been nothing more than a whore in disguise. To this day he couldn't be sure if it was him or their impoverished circumstances which triggered her desertion. He suspected that she had never really loved him, and had only been seeking to marry a fortune, something the Delanzas had never had. Their marriage had been brief, little more than a year. He had almost gone after her, almost begged her to stay. But he had some pride, because she was leaving him to go to another man. Letting her go had been impossibly hard and impossibly painful.

And like his mother, Slade ran away also, fifteen years later.
Just like his mother
. It was a second betrayal that he had barely been able to survive, and it hurt so much more than the first. Of course, from the time Slade had been toddling Rick had seen the nearly unbearable resemblance between mother and son. Slade's astounding looks, which were almost too pretty when he was a young boy, had come from his mother. So too had his defiance. Rick had spent fifteen years trying to tame that wild streak, without success.

And now, finally, it had come to this, the death of his first son, James, who was as different from Slade as white was from black. James hadn't had a defiant bone in his body. They had rarely argued. No son could have been more dutiful and more loyal. No man could have been more honest or more sincere.

He couldn't bear thinking about James, not even now, so he forced his thoughts back to the girl.

He had known her real identity before Slade had found her by the train tracks and brought her to Templeton. Rick had sent Slade and Edward to town to meet the train, expecting Elizabeth. Rick had not informed her of James's death yet. He was not intending to do so until she was at Miramar, because he wanted to convince her quickly to marry Slade, and he was certain he could do it in person. The week before she was due to arrive—two weeks before she and James would have been married—he had wired her at her home in San Luis Obispo. The telegram had been a simple welcome. He hadn't expected a reply, and he hadn't gotten one, but he most certainly had expected her to be on the train at the prearranged date.

Yet the train had limped into Templeton after the holdup, without Elizabeth. It was detained by the sheriff as he attempted to interview the overwrought passengers. A dozen gentlemen were quick to point out that a very beautiful, elegant young lady had fled the club car during the holdup. Hot on her heels had been one of the thieves. So Slade and Edward had split up. Slade had ridden out to find her while Edward had galloped back to Miramar to inform Rick of the disastrous events.

Rick hadn't hesitated. He and Edward had returned to Templeton immediately. The normally sleepy town had been in an uncharacteristic frenzy and the train had not yet been allowed to leave. One of the passengers who had been seriously wounded was the chaperone of the young lady who had fled the train. From eyewitnesses it had been learned that she had attempted to block the thief chasing her charge and he had shot her, perhaps purposefully, perhaps accidentally. It had been hard to tell. The chaperone had been unconscious since the train had arrived in Templeton, so no one had spoken with her.

Rick was the first and only person to speak with her when she regained her senses. Slade had yet to return with the woman everyone assumed to be Elizabeth. Rick was afraid that Elizabeth had been hurt.

The chaperone was dying. Rick was sorry for that, but there was nothing they could do to stop her from meeting her maker. Doc Brown had left the room to see if Father Joseph had arrived, having done all that he could for her. Rick knelt beside her, taking her hand.

“What can I do for you, ma'am? What can I get you?” Rick said kindly. Death was final, and Rick had seen it too often to be callous about it. He was no fool, he knew there was no glory waiting for anyone, no ever-after, just nothingness, dirt, and dust.

The woman shook her head, unable to speak at first. She was weak from having lost so much blood. “Harold,” she said.

“Harold?”

“I'm finally going to be with Harold again.” She smiled faintly. Her voice was reed-thin. “My husband.”

If she believed in an ever-after, it was better for her. He patted her hand. “Can you tell me about Elizabeth? Is she all right?”

The woman didn't seem to hear him. “R-Re-Regina?”

Rick leaned closer. “Is Elizabeth all right?”

Tears filled the woman's eyes. “R-Regina? W-where…is she?”

“Who is Regina?”

It took all of her strength, but five minutes later, she had explained quite a bit. Mrs. Schroener was not the chaperone of Elizabeth Sinclair. Her charge was Regina Shelton, the daughter of a British nobleman. She had been hired by the girl's grandfather in Texas, and he was none other than the very rich, all-powerful Derek Bragg. In fact, her charge was a very great heiress, and the woman was distraught at having failed in her duty to see her safely to her destination.

Rick was nearly in shock. But he recovered. Apparently Elizabeth was not on the train—he could only assume that she would arrive on a later one. At least he could rest assured that she was all right, although he wanted to know why in hell she wasn't on the Southern Pacific when she was supposed to be on it.

The woman slipped back into unconsciousness, but fortunately Father Joseph arrived then, while she was still breathing. Ten minutes later she died.

And then Slade arrived in town and told Rick that Elizabeth had lost her memory.

Rick could not help seeing the opportunity that some awfully mighty God was hand-delivering to him. In fact, it seemed like a miracle. And if he hadn't quite believed in God before, he did now.

Regina Shelton was a much greater heiress than Elizabeth Sinclair. What if he could arrange a marriage between her and Slade as he'd intended to do between Elizabeth and Slade?

It seemed that was what fate had intended. Her amnesia gave him the perfect opportunity to foster just such an alliance. She was alone and vulnerable, and while he didn't like preying on her condition, she couldn't be left to go her own way. Obviously he would bring her to Miramar, so she could rest and recover while being cared for. In that interim, she would be convinced to marry Slade, whether her memory returned or not.

Unfortunately Rick could still not reveal to her her real identity, not yet, because she would be whisked away by her relatives, and this golden God-given opportunity would be destroyed. So what if he just happened to mistake her for Elizabeth? He had only met Elizabeth twice—five years ago when she was thirteen, and then last summer at her daddy's funeral—but then she had been swathed in a dark veil. No one would ever know that the mistake was calculated. If everyone believed her to be Elizabeth, she would continue on her way to Miramar, as planned, despite her condition.

Although everything was going to work out perfectly—and Rick was certain of it, despite his hardheaded son's determination to oppose him—he did not have time on his side. Right now he knew there were Braggs looking for Regina, worried about her. He was no fool, and he'd figured out right away that she would be missed when she did not show up at whatever destination she had been traveling to. As soon as he had
learned from Slade that she had amnesia, and as soon as he had briefly spoken with her, he had wired the Pinkerton agency to send one of their men. He wanted to know who was looking for her, where she had been going, and more about her background.

It had been a very close call. Just yesterday her uncle, Brett D'Archand, a San Francisco millionaire, had been in Templeton, searching for her. He had interviewed Sheriff Willow, who, fortunately, was not the smartest of men. Sheriff Willow hadn't been able to tell him anything about Regina Shelton, for the sheriff didn't know anything about her. Everyone in Templeton assumed that Regina was Elizabeth. D'Archand had been very worried, and he had left for Lompoc, determined to find out if his niece had been on the stage, apparently uncertain whether she had been on the train or not because of her failure to arrive in Paso Robles as scheduled. Rick knew all of this because the Pinkerton agent had sent a rider with his first report last night. It answered most of Rick's questions, and he was impressed with the agent's efficiency.

Rick shuddered to think what would have happened if Regina had made it to Templeton yesterday. D'Archand had just missed crossing paths with his niece by a hair.

Rick had also asked the agent to find out what the hell was going on with the real Elizabeth Sinclair. The last thing he needed now was for her to show up at Miramar.

Rick didn't really feel guilty. Back in Templeton three days ago, when the chaperone had died and he had made the decision to “mistake” Regina for Elizabeth, there had been guilt, but desperation had been driving him. He just could not lose Miramar. Then he had told himself that even if she were promised to someone else, she would become the mistress of Miramar. There was nothing terrible about that. And she would be marrying his son Slade. Although Slade was a callous womanizer, Rick knew that all women mooned over him madly. In this instance he was hoping it would be the same.

And it was. That was why he no longer felt guilty. It had taken him about two seconds after seeing them together to learn that Regina Shelton was falling hard for his son, and fast, too. She could barely take her eyes off of Slade and the invitation she was issuing was obvious. He didn't think he'd had to really persuade her to stay a few minutes ago. In fact, he'd bet a substantial amount that she'd wanted to stay, and that she was relieved he'd supposedly had to talk her into it.

As for Slade, he belonged at Miramar. He always had, and he always would—even if James were still alive. Despite his rebel ways. The boy loved the land, with passion, and in that one way he was like Rick. And he was twenty-five, old enough to settle down. A lady like Regina Shelton was just what he needed. She would set him the kind of example he, Rick, had never been able to. In the end, she might even have him falling in love with her. Rick had seen the way Slade looked at her, too. And every man needed a good woman. His son was no exception.

It was ironic, but he was actually playing matchmaker. He looked forward to having an obviously well-bred, classy lady like Regina as his daughter-in-law. Because he was a good judge of character, from the moment he'd laid eyes on her, he'd known she was more than a blue-blooded aristocrat. She was honest and genuine and soft. She was as different from Elizabeth Sinclair as was possible, except for the fact that they were both stunningly attractive.

Even five years ago Rick had seen right away that Elizabeth was a very spoiled coquette. She was selfish and manipulative. Rick knew the type too well, because Pauline had been that way, and Victoria had it in her too, when she chose to play the game. James, of course, hadn't seen that; he'd been mesmerized by Elizabeth's blinding blonde beauty and he'd fallen for her limpid gaze and quick, pretty smiles instantly. The one thing that had been bothering Rick when he'd realized that Slade would now have to wed Elizabeth was that he knew Slade would despise Elizabeth Sinclair on sight.
Fortunately, he no longer had to worry about that.

James had been honest, kind, and good, too. Maybe it would always be an attraction of opposites in this world. God knew, with James gone, his family needed someone like Regina Shelton in their midst—and Slade needed her most of all.

No, he really didn't feel guilty, not at all.

 

Trapped. It was a very definite, distinct feeling, and it had been growing ever since he'd found Elizabeth Sinclair not far from the railroad tracks a dozen miles from Templeton. Last night Slade had begun to feel as if his collar were too tight—or as if there were a noose around his neck.

She could not stay. The attraction that had been there between them from the first was rapidly growing to uncontrollable proportions. Last night had proved that. Last night had been dangerous. She was James's fiancée, but Slade had forgotten that and just about everything else. He had been oblivious of their circumstances, who she was, and her state of amnesia. She was obviously a well-bred lady and a virgin if he had ever seen one. Yet he had forgotten that too. He could no longer trust himself around her. Last night he had been consumed with desire. To this moment, he did not know how he had been able to control himself and take her home without seducing her.