Potrait of Jamie

by Margaret Way

  'That's guaranteed to keep me on a knife edge.' He moved a little closer to her and the room seemed to spin. It was a strange feeling and she was a stranger to it. He was looking at her intently, his head tipped to one side. Probably it was the difference in their ages. She was nineteen, almost twenty. He had to be thirty-four or five, a successful, sophisticated man with a frightening attraction for her beneath the unvarnished distrust. She moved quickly and a little jerkily as if she were in a cage. 'Let's see if my portrait holds up, shall we?'

  He followed her out of the room and along the passageway, looking idly around him, liking what he saw. The bedroom door was open and Jaime switched on the light and walked to the centre of the room with Quinn Sterling coming to stand close behind her shoulder. The portrait, oil on canvas, about four feet by three, hung directly above the old Victorian brass bed with its tailored spread in a bright modern print. So naturally was Jaime posed against a blue sky, so exact her image, that one could hardly take one's eyes off her in case she came down from the plain gilded frame. It was unquestionably Derrick Gilmore's best work and he was the first to admit it. It was indisputably Jaime, the character and the strength and the purpose alongside the beauty and delicate sensitivity. The raven hair gleamed and the beautiful violet eyes were clear and smiling.

  'What do you think?' Jaime asked lightly, feeling quite differently about her painted image.

  'She makes me feel slightly uncomfortable,' he said, his head back and his eyes narrowed.

  'Why?' Jaime asked in surprise.

  'Perhaps I feel I know her too well and I don't know her at all.'

  'Do you like her?'

  'Liking is irrelevant. It's extremely good. It has to be your father's best work.'

  'Surely you haven't seen enough to judge?'

  'On the contrary, I've seen quite a bit,' he muttered, lowering his head to glance at her. 'I visited the gallery before I came here.'

  'Typical, I suppose.'

  'It's just a question of researching a job.' He frowned and looked back at the portrait. 'Your grandfather would like this.'

  'It's not for sale,' she said instantly.

  'I'm not suggesting you sell it, Jaime, but give it.'

  'A nice gesture, but I'm not considering making it.'

  'Then I won't press it, but it would rate instant approval.'

  She was uneasy and on edge, struck into incredulity by the antagonism and attraction this man stirred up. It was strange and it made her angry, but she was always honest with herself. This tenseness and excitement she was feeling all stemmed from Quinn Sterling, and his presence so close beside her offered no respite. She moved away from him towards the door, her dark blue eyes startling against her golden tan. 'Approval is pleasant,' she remarked crisply, 'but buying it, isn't my style. It's not necessary for the Hunters or Sterlings to like me. I can only think of you as "those people" anyway.'

  Quinn took one last look at the painting, his chiselled mouth faintly ironic. 'You'll remind them all a great deal of your mother.'

  'Of whom they haven't had a recent thought for the past twenty years.'

  'Don't be bitter, Jaime. Considering they all toe your grandfather's line that's not surprising.'

  'Do you?' she asked, her violet eyes gleaming with speculation.

  'We're all one big, happy family!' He joined her at the door, looking down at her, almost holding her immobile.

  She shook her head and freed herself. 'Nice work if you can make them believe it. I think you have your own private axe to grind.'

  'Surely you're a witch, Jaime!' His black eyes mocked her, but there was a glimmer of surprise somewhere there as well.

  'I wouldn't care to cross you myself,' she replied.

  'I'm glad!' he said silkily, 'because you'll be seeing quite a lot of me.'

  'Tell me about the business,' she asked.

  'It's big and it's complex. It would take a long time.'

  'I shouldn't be in ignorance of it.'

  'I think, Jaime, you've changed your mind,' he teased.

  'Maybe I'm like you, Mr Sterling, with my own axe to grind.'

  'You'll make yourself unhappy doing it!' Unexpectedly he caught her shoulder and turned her towards him. 'Listen to me, Jaime, you're beautiful and you're clever, but you wouldn't last the first round with them because you couldn't fight their way.'

  She stared up at him fixedly. 'What is Hunter Sterling, a battlefield?'

  'All big business is intrigue, Jaime.'

  'I'm not interested in the business and I've learned how to defend myself.'

  'Then I fail to understand why you're trembling under my hands.'

  'That doesn't mean all that much.'

  'As it happens it might, only I don't care to have a young girl at my mercy.'

  'Then you've got the wrong impression. To begin with, I don't like you.'

  'I damn well don't believe it!' He released her with his rare, very attractive smile.

  Her glance flicked back over him and she was talking fast. 'You're at liberty to doubt it. I don't know why or how, but my opinion is formed!'

  'You're not very careful with your insults, Jaime.'

  'It's you who's asking the favour of me.'

  He held up his hand. 'Please! I think it's a mistake your coming to Falconer. It's your grandfather who wants you.'

  'Presumably you haven't suffered by making this visit. I mean, aren't all your expenses paid?'

  'It would be a very unpleasant surprise to discover they haven't. That includes the dinner.'

  'Thank you for telling me. Suddenly I don't feel hungry.'

  'You will!' he promised.

  She shrugged her delicate shoulders. 'I don't really need any little pats on the head.' * 'No, what you really need is a few hard slaps some place else.'

  She felt suddenly like laughing and did. 'What did I tell you? Already we're running short on civility.' She stepped back and looked out through the window. 'Mercifully Derry's coming back, and there's someone with him. Oh God, it's Tavia.'

  'Then let's go out.'

  She turned her head back to stare at him, so fantastically sure of himself. 'I've tried and tried to like Tavia—she works in the gallery.'

  'I know.'

  'Do you know everything?' she asked.

  'All the important information. Make up your mind, Jaime, I'll rescue you if you want me too.'

  'I've no alternative now Tavia's arrived.'

  'Your father's a big boy.'

  'Is he?' she asked, making no attempt to smile. 'I promised myself I would look after him for as long as I could.'

  'Then now's the time to get out.'

  'I daresay it would suit your plans—oh, forgive me, my grandfather's plans.'

  'I'm only the errand boy,' he said, his brilliant eyes gleaming.

  She watched him across the room. 'Oh no, you're not,' she said softly, 'you're a real Machiavelli!'

  'I'm no threat to little girls.'

  'Hush, they're coming.'

  Quinn smiled. 'What are we, Jaime, unwilling conspirators?'

  'It looks like it, doesn't it? You've got me, finally. We'll go out.'

  With the length of the room separating them, their eyes met and held. He found himself becoming more and more involved with this vital young creature. She couldn't have offered a more complete contrast to her cousins; for all her perceptible integrity and courage a babe in the woods beside either of them, Sue-Ellen or Leigh. They heard the car engine cut, then a moment later Derrick Gilmore let himself in the front door accompanied by a rather voluptuous-looking redhead in her late thirties.

  'Hello there!' Derrick said with a challenging smile. 'Sorry I was so long, but I ran into Tavvy, here.'

  'Nice to see you again, Mr Sterling,' Tavia said in her fruity contralto. 'Hi there, Jaime. That's a terrific outfit as usual. I wish you'd make something for me. I have to pay the earth!'

  'When I come to it I might charge the earth!' Jaime answered rather shortly. 'There's be
en a change in plan, Derry. Mr Sterling is taking me out to dinner.'

  'What a good idea!' said Tavia, obviously taken with Quinn Sterling. 'Can't we all go? The Plantation is fabulous and it's new.'

  'It seems to me you weren't invited!' Jaime burst out, irritated by the way Tavia had transferred her whole attention to Quinn Sterling.

  'I perfectly agree,' said her father. 'We'll have a nice dinner at home, Tavvy, and polish off this bottle of wine.'

  'Why?' Tavia turned her almond amber eyes on him.

  'Because we do most of the time.'

  'I'll certainly grant you that!' Tavia said, looking at Jaime with veiled dislike. 'Naturally it's none of my business, but have you decided to visit your grandfather?'

  'From which I gather Derry has been gossiping again?'

  'Why not?' asked Tavia, her eyes sliding back to Quinn Sterling's tall, lean figure. He was assuredly the sexiest man she had ever seen. Derry at his best couldn't come remotely close, though he was far more attractive than any other man in her circle. This man was something else again, with his lean rather imperious face and his coal-black eyes. Behind the charm, and he had it far more dangerously, than Derry, there was a high degree of ruthlessness. No woman could afford to underestimate him for a second. A pity to waste him on a fledgling like Jaime.

  'I'll let you know early,' Jaime assured her.

  'It seems to me we're holding you up,' Derry said affably, the expression in his hazel eyes not matching up. 'Enjoy yourselves. I'll still be up by the time you get home.'

  'Which reminds me,' Quinn Sterling looked back at the older man, 'your portrait of Jaime is excellent.'

  'Not too bad at ill!' Derrick agreed contentedly. 'She's the kind of model most artists dream about.'

  'There's a portrait of Rowena at Falconer.'

  'I never saw it. Is it surrounded by flowers and candles like a shrine?'

  Jaime shuddered. 'Don't speak like that, Derry!'

  'I was amusing myself. I hope that old swine has suffered and suffered!'

  'He has no less than you have!' Quinn Sterling said in his black velvet voice with the steel in it.

  'You couldn't like him!' Derry maintained, an odd whiteness about his mouth and nostrils. 'He's a past master of every dirty trick in the business. Didn't he practically force your father to resign?'

  'He's not that good that we haven't always been able to come up with a counter-move.'

  'From the look of you, you know how to survive!' Derry said grimly. 'Do you wonder I have no sort of ambition? I'd never have held Rowena, had she lived. She was used to a high level of living. A frightening old eagle for a father.'

  'Yet you're willing to allow your daughter to visit him,' Quinn countered with no trace of pity or compassion on his dark face.

  'Oh well!' Derry said, brightening, a puckish smile on his face, 'I'm sending her for her own sake. The old devil is a multi-millionaire. I think he should extend a few hundred thousand in Jaime's direction!'

  'That's good! In your direction, you mean!' Tavia laughed cruelly.

  'Take care, Tavvy, or you can walk home,' Derry warned.

  'That would well-nigh kill me, I'm right out of condition.'

  'A real Rubens!' Derry grinned, restored to good humour by the thought of her.

  Jaime realised she was trembling. She had never really known her father; she only knew she had never felt carefree.

  'Are you ready, Jaime?' Quinn asked, his eyes on her still face.

  'Yes. I'll just get a stole, the breeze off the ocean is very cooling. I won't be a moment.' She hurried out of the room hearing Tavia beginning to question Quinn on his intended movements within the next few days. Probably if she could she would track him down. Tavia was a lady vulture, but at least Derry would never be her victim. Derry, she was now coming to suspect, didn't really need anyone beyond someone to attend to his creature comforts. Tavia might stay around him a long time, but he would never marry her. Derry totally rejected commitment, though in fairness had never forsaken his only child.

  Whatever he was, Jaime loved him, though she thought of him as only a few years older than she was, so many scrapes had she got him out of. Tavia was lucky he wouldn't marry her. Damned lucky. Had he loved her mother when he had run away with her, or had he deliberately set out to spite and outrage an establishment that had refused to accept him? It sounded like Derry. He pitchforked himself into trouble. With a kind of nervous horror Jaime considered that he might be burning for vengeance, using her as once he had used her mother. No, it couldn't be so. He had loved Rowena and he had proved his love by never deserting Rowena's child. She couldn't allow these mysterious, repelling thoughts to race around in her head. Derry wouldn't use her as a form of blackmail over her grandfather. It was just a fantastic thought.

  CHAPTER TWO

  A little silence had fallen between them, and Quinn studied the young downbent face opposite him. Her skin in the soft rosy lighting had a wonderful sensuous quality, her dark blue eyes blurred with violet, yet suddenly she looked like a spent child.

  'I think you're right, Jaime,' he offered with grave amusement. 'You have lost your appetite.'

  'I've nothing to celebrate,' she said, twirling her wine glass, 'but please finish your lobster. This place is becoming famous for its seafood.'

  'A deserved reputation, but you've hardly touched anything.'

  'I feel rootless all of a sudden,' she looked up swiftly and directly into his night-dark eyes.

  'How's that?'

  'Oh, Derry seems anxious to get rid of me for one reason or the other.'

  'Not get rid of you, Jaime. He feels quite rightly that your grandfather should acknowledge you at last and further provide for you in his will.'

  'May he live on for ever!' she said fervently, and took a sip of her wine. 'I don't give a tinker's curse for his money.'

  'Then you're the only member of his family who doesn't.'

  'But don't you see,' she said earnestly, 'I'm not a member of the family. I'm Orphan Annie.'

  'Anyone less like Orphan Annie I've yet to see,' he said dryly, reaching forward and filling up her wine glass.

  'Tell me then, what is this marvellous gift he's offering me? The chance to bask in his reflected glory and get financially rewarded at the same time. With just a little help, I can make it on my own.'

  'I wish you'd stop talking like a gallant child, and I'm beginning to think that's all you are. If you don't come, you'll end up getting nothing at all.'

  Jaime lowered her face, immeasurably disenchanted. 'The one thing that would have redeemed my grandfather in my eyes would have been for him to remember me without even having laid eyes on me. There are strings attached to his benevolence.'

  'Without a doubt,' he agreed.

  'He wants me to console him in his old age, absolve him from his share of the blame or whatever.'

  'He genuinely wants to love you.'

  'What a beautiful thought!' she said, gazing straight at him. 'The first he's extended to me in all my young life.'

  Despite himself he laughed, and the light fell across his dark profile. There was a glitter of sardonic amusement in his unfathomable eyes and the words seemed to bubble up in Jaime's throat. 'Just one thing, Quinn. You're not attempting at all to be reassuring.'

  'You want me to tell you the truth, don't you?' he countered.

  'I'm not so blind I can't see it for myself. My grandfather wants me to provide him with his salvation. Having been an enormous success in this life he naturally wants to make an unforgettable mark in the next.'

  'I think he will,' he said suavely.

  Her eyes were fastened on him with barely concealed apprehension. 'There's too much about you to fathom. I think you want to take over where my grandfather leaves off.'

  'The idea appeals to me, Jaime.'

  'What would you do with all my uncles and cousins?'

  'Step over them,'

  'How intolerable!'

  'For them, yes,' he said
blandly.

  'I suppose they're blissfully unaware of your plans.'

  'They'd demolish me if they could. Are you going to join them?'

  'Not now. Not ever!' she said with quiet emphasis.

  'Why not?'

  'You'd make a dangerous enemy.'

  'I'm harmless to my friends. Life had hardened me, Jaime. My grandfather was a brilliant but very trusting man, so was my father, but I have a few accounts to settle. Both of them were used, but I don't intend that anyone will use me.' A kind of lightning flashed out of his eyes and Jaime shivered, clasped her hands together and held them beneath her chin.

  'You hate them, don't you?'

  He smiled and the humour came back into his face. 'I don't have to, Jaime. My family holds forty-eight per cent of company stock. It didn't happen overnight and they didn't like it, but it happened. My family had the engineering brains, your grandfather was the financial genius. The Hunter Sterling Oil Exploration Company was my father's brainchild. It's only fair that we should now own fifty-one per cent of the stock in that company. I was able to persuade a few of our major shareholders to sell out to us; it set us right back for a time, but we're making up for that. Both my mother and father died within a few years of each other. My grandmother is head of the family.'

  'Nigel's mother?'

  He looked at her with brilliant, harsh alertness. 'Yes.'

  'Then I could only cause her painful memories.'

  'Infinitely painful, Jaime.'

  'You're cruel,' she said softly, feeling tears threatening.

  'And you, of course, can't be blamed for your astonishing resemblance to your mother. We'll have to keep remembering that. Your face will repay itself when your grandfather sees you.'

  'I don't think I can take it all in! This morning none of this seemed imminent. That somewhere I had a grandfather, an important and powerful man. I remember reading once in the newspaper that some politician called him a megalomaniac.'

  'With some reason, but that's the way giants are.'

  'And he trusts you?'

  'He knows I won't stoop to anything too low. That's the Sterling in me. A lot of people meeting me for the first time assume I'm a Hunter.'