Tidewater Seduction Part 11

'Really?' Giving herself time to think, Joanna took another sip of wine. 'I thought Charley was grounded.'

Cole frowned. 'Grounded?'

Joanna considered quickly. She had no wish to in volve Charley yet. Not until she had had a chance to sound out the situation.

'I-it's not important,' she said. Then, tilting her head, 'Will your father be joining us?'

'Not tonight.' Cole's mouth compressed and he turned to pour more bourbon into his gla.s.s.

'Oh?' Joanna moistened her lips. 'Why not? He's not-'

'Worse?' Cole swung around, cradling his gla.s.s be tween his strong fingers. 'Do you care?'

Joanna endeavored to remain unmoved. 'I hardly think your mother would be spending the evening at Joe's, if he was in any danger,' she replied smoothly, and Cole a.s.sumed an irritated expression.

'No,' he said after a moment. 'No, you're right, of course. He's no worse and no better than he was. But-' the word was heavy with meaning' -he thinks it would be a good idea if we-talked to one another.'

Now Joanna understood. But, 'Talked?' she queried, with just the right amount of confusion in her voice. 'What about?'

Cole's jaw hardened. 'What do you think?'

'I don't know, do I?'

He grunted. 'He wants us to-reconcile-'

'Reconcile!' Now Joanna couldn't keep the disbelief out of her voice. 'You mean, he wants us to get together again?'

'No!' Cole swore. 'Not that. He's ill, but he's not senile!' He expelled his breath on a harsh sigh. 'No, he simply wants us to try and heal our differences; to be civil-with one another again.'

Joanna stared at him. 'Why?'

'Why?' Cole had obviously thought of this himself, but he didn't have an answer for her. 'I-why do you think? He's sick. Near to death. People who are dying sometimes have these crazy ideas. I guess he wants to to-'

'Salve his own conscience?' suggested Joanna silkily, and Cole's face suffused with angry colour.

'You would say that, wouldn't you?' he snarled. 'I should have known better than to hope you'd show some compa.s.sion.'

Joanna shrugged. 'Maybe you should,' she agreed, putting down her gla.s.s. She had suddenly lost all taste for the wine. 'Or perhaps you should learn to have some compa.s.sion yourself.'

'What's that supposed to mean?'

Joanna hesitated. 'You haven't asked me why your father wanted to see me.'

Cole's mouth flattened. 'I know why. I've just told you why.'

'No, you haven't.'

He scowled. 'Stop bulling me, Jo. You know d.a.m.n well how hard this is for me-for both of us. Don't don't make it any worse by lying about it.'

Joanna felt a moment's indignation, but it pa.s.sed. 'I'm not lying,'

she said. 'Your father doesn't care if we hate each other's guts!

My G.o.d, he and your mother did what they could to bring that about. Why should he feel any differently now? I'm still the foreigner! The outsider! The unwanted intruder, who spoiled all the plans your daddy had for you!'

'That's history, Jo. Let it go. It's not as if you made any attempt to fit in here. I don't remember you doing much else but moan about this place. You didn't like the way we lived, the way we treated the workers, the lack of health care on the estate, He shook his head. 'No, all you did was cause trouble.'

'My, oh, my!' Joanna brought her hands together in a slow clap.

'You're learning, Cole. I could almost be lieve that was your daddy talking.'

'Shut up!'

'No. Why should I?' Joanna was keeping her anger in check by a supreme effort. 'It's the truth. Tell me, when are you Macallisters going to realise this is the twentieth century?'

Cole took a step towards her, but, whatever his in tentions had been, the appearance of a maid, to inform them that supper was waiting, forestalled him.

'Right, Sally, we'll be right there,' he muttered, and, swallowing the remainder of the whiskey in his gla.s.s, he gestured for Joanna to precede him out of the room. And she did so, uneasily aware of her ex-husband's grim presence behind her.

Supper was served in a high-ceilinged salon, where a pair of revolving fans endeavored to keep the air cir culating. It was where they had all eaten the night before, but this evening only two places were set at the long polished table. Predictably, Cole sat in the chair his father had occupied the night previously, with Joanna at his right hand. It was nearer than she would have liked, but at least they weren't sitting opposite one another. She didn't know how she would have coped with such an unguarded appraisal.

As it was, she endeavored to concentrate on her food, and her surroundings, to the exclusion of all else. She needed time to consider how she was going to proceed, and it didn't help that Cole had his own preconceived ideas of why she was here. The trouble was, she didn't know what she was going to do. She had forgotten how it was here. Somehow, the heat sapped her powers of reasoning. What had appeared so cut and dried in Na.s.sau no longer seemed so easy.

Looking at him out of the corners of her eyes, as he attacked the chunky fish soup, and quail stuffed with cornbread, she wondered why she didn't just tell Ryan Macallister to do his own dirty work, and get out of there. She didn't want to stay. And it was obvious Cole didn't want her here. She didn't owe his father anything. Nothing good, at least.

'Do you ever see Sarah?' she asked abruptly, knowing it would antagonise him, but reckless none the less. Anything to rid herself of this feeling that she was weak ening. She had to remember exactly what he'd done.

Cole put down his fork, and reached for the gla.s.s of wine beside his plate. 'Why?' he asked, after rinsing his palate. 'What relevance does that have to this situation?'

Joanna bit her lip. 'I'd like to know if she's all right.'

'She is.'

'And Henry?'

'I've told you. Henry still works in the stables.' Joanna shook her head. 'How can he?'

'How can't he? He still has to live. He earns enough to keep himself and his mother at Tidewater.'

'Conscience money!'

She was scathing, and a nerve jerked in Cole's cheek. 'May I remind you that Henry worked at Tidewater long before you knew anything about his brother? He likes the work. He's good with horses.'

'There are other places---,'

'Not for someone like Henry,' retorted Cole savagely. 'For G.o.d's sake, what would you have us do? Deprive him of his chance to have some self-respect? If, as you say, you think it's conscience money, think about how he'd live if he didn't come to Tidewater.

In any case, it's what Sarah wants. Now, will you give it a rest?'

Joanna took a steadying breath. 'Why don't you want me to see Sarah?'

Cole closed his eyes for a moment. 'Why do you think?'

'I don't know, do I? I'm asking you.'

Cole hesitated. 'All right. In words of one syllable, she doesn't want to see you.'

Joanna gasped. 'I don't believe you.'

'Nevertheless, it's the truth.'

Joanna shook her head. 'I don't understand.'

'Try. Your presence here can only bring back unhappy memories for her.'

'It does?' Joanna winced. 'Does she-does she hate me?'

'No!' Cole was impatient. 'Sarah doesn't hate anyone.'

'Not even your father?'

'Not even him,' declared Cole flatly. 'You know Sarah. She doesn't have a vindictive bone in her body. Now why don't you stop thinking everyone's your enemy, and try and enjoy your time here?'

Joanna licked her lips. 'With you, you mean?' she ventured, her pulses suddenly racing, and Cole's ex pression tightened.

'If that's what it takes,' he said guardedly. 'I brought you here. I guess I have to take my share of the responsibility.'

'Gee thanks'

Joanna was sarcastic, but she still couldn't control the quickening rate of her heartbeat. A few days with Cole, she mused, with some nervousness. Was that what she really wanted? What she could handle? And was she going to plead his father's case, or was she going to allow him to go on thinking that all his father wanted was some cozy reconciliation?

Cole had picked up his fork again, but, from the way he was pus.h.i.+ng the meat and peas around his plate, food was the last thing on his mind. After a few moments, he threw the fork down again, and wiped his mouth on his napkin.

'Tomorrow,' he said, and she knew the words were being dragged out of him, 'tomorrow, we'll take a ride out to Palmer's Point.' He paused. 'There's something you might like to see.'

'What?' Joanna's eyes were curious.

'You'll find out,' he said, pus.h.i.+ng back his chair, and getting up from the table. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I have work to do.'

'Work?' Joanna looked skeptically towards the inky darkness outside, where fireflies and huge, hairy moths cl.u.s.tered against the window-pane. 'What work?'

'Paperwork,' Cole informed her briefly, nodding to the maid to come and clear. 'Someone has to run Tidewater, now that my father isn't able to do it. Mary Lou will get you anything else you want. I'll see you in the morning.' He was walking towards the door when another thought occurred to her. Turning her head, she said, 'Cole!' and, with a perceptible stiffening of his shoulders, he halted in the doorway.

'Yes?'

'What time in the morning?' she asked innocently, twining a strand of silky dark hair about her fingers as she spoke, and Cole's eyes narrowed.

'Seven,' he stated harshly, slapping one hand against the jamb, and, without waiting for any response, he strode out of the room.

Joanna was walking along the upper corridor to her room when she heard a whispering sound behind her. For a moment, it unnerved her. She hadn't heard a door open, or anyone call her name, and because the lamps that lit the landing were few, and inclined to flicker, she knew a moment's panic. The old house was like that. Boards creaked; shutters banged; and just occasionally the electricity failed altogether.

She swung round, half prepared to face whatever demon was pursuing her, and then caught her breath at the sight of Ryan Macallister, following her in his wheelchair.

'Did I scare you?' he asked, in a low voice, and she knew d.a.m.n well he knew he had. But she refused to give him that satisfaction.

'Is that how you get your kicks these days, Mr. Macallister?' she asked, keeping her voice steady and adopting a provocative stance. She tipped her head, and rested one hand on her hip. 'And here I was thinking' y'all had turned over a new leaf'

If her words, and the way they were delivered, angered him, he did an admirable job of hiding his feelings. Instead, he wheeled himself closer, so that if she had chosen to stretch out her leg she could have touched the foot-rest. Then, looking up into her guarded features, he demanded, 'Did you do it?'

Joanna took a step back. It was an involuntary movement, an automatic recoil from the avidity of his expression. He didn't frighten her, but he did disturb her, and tonight she was in no state to counter his belligerence.

'Did I do what?' she responded now, guessing that pretending ignorance was the only way to thwart him. 'I had dinner with Cole, if that's what you mean. You should have joined us. The quail was-'

'G.o.ddammit, don't mess with me, girl!' Ryan's voice rose in concert with his fury, and he cast an impatient glance over his shoulder. Then, calming himself with an evident effort, he added harshly, 'You know what I'm talking about. Did you talk to him?

Did you tell him what I told you?'

'We've talked.' Joanna thought about prevaricating, but she found she didn't have the energy-or the en thusiasm. 'That's all I can tell you.'

'What about?' Ryan's jaw clamped.

'This and that.' Joanna sighed. 'Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to go into my room. I'm tired.'

'Dammit, I know you and Cole talked about Nathan,' Ryan bl.u.s.tered angrily. 'Hannibal heard you asking about Henry, and Cole saying something about Sarah not blaming anyone for Nathan's death-'

'You had Hannibal spy on us?' broke in Joanna dis believingly, her disgust at the act tempered by her sym pathy for Ryan's elderly valet. Hannibal had been at Tidewater since before Ryan was born, and his loyalty to his employer had never been in doubt.

'Not all the time,' muttered Cole's father irritably, but there was no remorse in the words. 'The old fool's half deaf anyway. But don't you try to bluff me, girl. I always know what's going on in this house.'

'Then you won't need me to tell you, will you?' re torted Joanna shortly, and, thrusting open her door, she slammed into the room.

JOANNA half thought he might try to follow her, but he didn't.

Even though she lay back against the closed panels for several minutes, ready to resist if he should try to force his way inside, there was no further in trusion. Evidently Cole's father had decided he had said enough for one night. He had startled her, and at tempted to intimidate her, and finally told her she was being spied on. What else could he do?

When she eventually pushed herself away from the door, her movements were heavy and lethargic. It was all very well putting up a defiant front with the Macallisters, but there was no doubt it drained her emotionally. She had to be constantly alert, constantly on her guard. What a holiday, she reflected ruefully.

She'd have had less stress white-water-rafting in the Rockies!

She undressed wearily, and after sluicing her face in the bathroom she crawled into bed. She just wanted to forget all about Cole and his family and go to sleep. Maybe tomorrow things would be clearer. Maybe to morrow she'd find a reason for being here.

But sleep eluded her. She tossed and turned for hours, and eventually had to get up to go to the bathroom. Peering at her pale face in the mirror above the wash basin as she rinsed her hands, she bemoaned the fact that she was going to look an absolute hag in the morning-when Cole took her riding to Palmer's Point.

She frowned. Why there? She brooded. The shacks at Palmer's Point had always been a bone of contention between them. And it was hardly a beauty spot, although it did overlook the mouth of the Tidewater River. It was where the Smiths had lived, before Adam died, and Ryan Macallister found Sarah and her two sons a house in geaumaris. And it was while Sarah was living at Palmer's point that Ryan first noticed her.

Nathan's mother had been beautiful when Joanna knew her, and it didn't take much imagination to realise that at eighteen she must have been quite ravis.h.i.+ng. With her sloe-dark eyes, and her tall, statuesque figure, she must have presented quite a challenge to the arrogant master of Tidewater.

Sarah and Adam had been married for three years, and their son, Henry, had been two years old, when Ryan first started taking an unnatural interest in the Smiths. Henry was already showing signs of slowness, of not being as bright as the other children who lived in the shacks, and Ryan used the boy's disability as a reason for visiting the family. He arranged for the boy to see a specialist, and insisted on escorting Sarah into Charleston himself. And he paid for the child to attend a special school, so that Henry could have a real chance of leading a normal life.