by Sandra Field
“I couldn’t care less—”
“But that’s not all. My daughter is intimately associated with one of the richest men in England, an association that’s moving toward marriage. You’re telling me it’s coincidence that at a time when an announcement is imminent Fiona’s identical twin appears out of the blue? Come, come, Miss Marshall, you strain my credulity. And my patience.”
The black-haired stranger in the woods… “Rich?” Karyn faltered.
“Rafe Holden of Holden Enterprises. I’m sure even in the wilds of Canada you’ve heard of him.”
Karyn had certainly heard of the Holden chain of hotels, although she’d never stayed in one of them. Their cheapest rooms would have blown her budget for months. She said roundly, “I had no idea when I flew over here that Fiona was about to get engaged, let alone to whom. Nor would it have made any difference if I had.”
“The kind of money Rafe Holden commands? I have no doubt it inspired your story from beginning to end.” Douglas levered himself up from his chair. “You’ll leave Droverton today, and you’ll stay away from my daughter forever. Should you disobey me, there will be severe legal consequences—I will not tolerate any disturbance to my family’s peace of mind, especially by a little upstart like you. Do I make myself clear?”
Karyn got to her feet, pink flags of fury in her cheeks. “I’m Fiona’s twin sister. She was adopted by you and your wife twenty-six years ago. Don’t you dare try to bully me.”
His eyes looked as though they might pop out of his head. “Get out of Droverton today, Miss Marshall—you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
He marched to the door, swung it open and slammed it shut behind him. Through the panels she could hear his footsteps clumping down the stairs. She went to the window that faced the street. A few minutes later, Douglas Talbot stalked over to a shiny silver Jaguar and barreled down the road in the direction of Willowbend.
So much for any fantasies she’d cherished of being warmly welcomed into the bosom of the family. How could Fiona stand having such a horrible father?
She stayed at the window, gazing down at the street. There was a cold lump in the vicinity of her heart. All along, she’d blithely assumed that Fiona knew she’d been adopted; that Fiona’s parents hadn’t chosen the same course as the Marshalls of keeping their child in ignorance. But Fiona didn’t know. As far as Fiona was concerned, Douglas and Clarissa were her only parents and there were no shadows around her birth.
Was she, Karyn, to be the one to tell Fiona the truth? She could remember as clearly as if it were yesterday how the discovery of her own adoption had shocked her to the core, causing her to look at her parents with new eyes. How could she expose Fiona to the same doubts and confusion?
She couldn’t. Which meant she was barred from meeting Fiona now or ever.
Stay away from my daughter forever…
Lanced by pain, Karyn moved away from the window. Now that it had become totally impossible to approach her sister, she realized how much she’d been counting on meeting her, finding out what it was like to have an identical twin.
Both her own parents were dead, and she was an only child; she was alone in the world. What a cliché, Karyn thought with an unhappy twist to her lips. But how lonely those words made her feel; and how understandable that she’d come all the way from Prince Edward Island to Cumbria to find her sister.
She looked around the little room with sudden loathing. She couldn’t stay here one more minute. If Willowbend was out of bounds, then she’d go somewhere else. Because, of course, it wasn’t just Fiona who was on her mind.
Rafe, she thought. Rafe Holden. It was a name that suited him, that dark-eyed man who’d kissed her under the trees thinking she was Fiona; and to whom she’d responded mindlessly and with the total abandon of desire. Even now, she could remember the strength of his arms around her, the sensitivity with which he’d stroked her breast, the way he’d invited her to his bed.
Douglas Talbot had confirmed that Rafe and Fiona were lovers. Lovers who were soon to be married.
Shivering, Karyn paced up and down, the floorboards groaning underfoot. When she’d looked up Droverton and its environs on the Internet, she’d read about Holden Castle, an exclusive retreat west of the village. The man who’d kissed her owned it, along with dozens of other internationally-known luxury resorts.
He’d spoken to her so gently, thinking she was Fiona. He’d tried to soothe her fears, and he’d wanted her to enjoy his bed and his body. Tears filled Karyn’s eyes. Steve had never cherished her in that way.
She clamped down viciously on thoughts of Steve; the only way she knew how to deal with those memories was to repress them. However, when she transferred her attention to her present predicament, Karyn felt just as unhappy. She had to leave Droverton for Fiona’s sake, certainly. Rafe Holden was the other reason, equally pressing, that she must get away from here. She couldn’t risk meeting him again. It would be too humiliating, too upsetting.
Her quest was over before it had begun.
Impulsively Karyn grabbed the little folder supplied by the inn and flipped through it. Picking up the antiquated phone, she dialed the number of the nearest car rental agency. To heck with her budget. She’d go nuts if she sat in this room all day.
Late that afternoon, Karyn was driving back along the narrow roads toward Droverton. She’d tramped the fells, rented a rowboat on one of the lakes, lunched in a pub and seen innumerable shaggy sheep. On the outskirts of Coverdale, she’d had a calorie-laden tea sitting on a balcony overlooking tree-clad hills and velvet-green fields neatly edged with stone. She felt, marginally, better.
She’d also made a decision. She was going to leave Droverton today. She had no other choice. She couldn’t risk hurting Fiona in any way.
As she coasted down a hill on the approach to the village, she caught a glimpse of a rose-brick mansion tucked among the trees. Impetuously she pulled over onto the verge and got out of her car. Crossing the road, she leaned on the stone wall and gazed down at Willowbend.
It might as well have been on the other side of the world.
Another car was approaching. Studiously she kept her gaze trained on the view, doing her best to look like one more tourist admiring the scenery. But the other vehicle pulled up behind hers; as the engine was turned off, the distant bleating of sheep sounded very loud in the silence. Furious with the intruder, Karyn turned to see who was disturbing her privacy.
Rafe Holden was crossing the grassy verge toward her, his hands jammed in his pockets. It was the first time she’d seen him in daylight. Rapidly she skimmed his face with its broad cheekbones, strongly modeled jawline and hard-set mouth. His black hair was thick, glossy as a raven’s wing; his dark eyes stormy.
He was taller than she remembered. Taller than Steve, she realized with an inward judder of her nerves; and more powerfully built. His whipcord trousers were snug to his hips, while his open-neck shirt revealed a physique wholly and disturbingly masculine. Would she ever forget that devastating kiss under the oak tree?
For a moment her gaze flicked to his hunter-green sports car. She didn’t know much about cars, but she’d be willing to bet this particular one represented five years of her salary.
Somehow this gave her the courage to go on the offensive. She said coldly, “Why don’t you get back in your car and drive straight to Willowbend? It’s where you belong—and you’re the last person in the world I want to see right now.”
“In that case, why did you station yourself on a public road overlooking Fiona’s house?”
“I don’t owe you any explanations!”
“That’s where you’re wrong,” Rafe said with dangerous softness. “I want to know who you are and what you’re doing here—and I’m not leaving until you tell me.”
One of Steve’s legacies to Karyn was a fear of large angry men. For Rafe Holden was angry, she was in no doubt about that. But they were standing in the open, and what could he do to her, short of bundling h
er into his car or tossing her over the wall? She retorted, “I don’t respond well to threats.”
“I don’t like women who trespass on other people’s property and run away without explaining. Why don’t we start with your name?”
While he didn’t look remotely like an ally, neither did he look at all like Douglas Talbot. Wasn’t Rafe Holden her last chance to reach Fiona? Maybe Douglas had been lying and Fiona did know she was adopted; as Fiona’s lover, Rafe was in a position to know the truth.
What did she have to lose? Nothing.
“My name is Karyn Marshall,” she said. “I’m from eastern Canada, a place called Heddingley in Prince Edward Island.”
“That explains the accent…you’re a long way from home. What brought you here? And take your time, I’m in no rush.”
Trying to ignore the sarcasm in his voice, Karyn looked out over the peaceful valley. “This all began when my mother died six months ago. Unexpectedly. It was a huge shock to me.”
Rafe stood still, watching every change of expression on her face. Her profile was Fiona’s. But her hair clung like a gold helmet to her head, emphasizing the elegance of her cheekbones and the slender line of her throat. Her eyes were bluer than Fiona’s. Or was it just that they were more direct?
She was slimmer than Fiona, he saw, as the breeze molded her flowered dress to her body; fiercely he quelled a flame of desire, and, almost hidden beneath it, a flicker of fear. He’d assumed, in the middle of the night, that daylight would bring with it a return to sanity, burying passion where it belonged. “What happened to your mother?” he asked brusquely.
“An aneurysm. She died instantly.” Unconsciously Karyn was smoothing the rock beneath her fingers. “It took several months before I could bring myself to sort through her belongings. My father died ten years ago, and I have no brothers or sisters. So there was only me.”
Her fingers were slender and ringless; delicate shadows lay in the hollows under her collarbone, while her face was thin, as though she had indeed been through some hard experiences. Hating himself for feasting on her like a starving man, Rafe forced himself to listen. “Four weeks ago,” she was saying, “I found some papers in her jewelry box. Among them was a letter to be opened by me only in the event of her death.” She bent her head, picking at a clump of moss with her nails, fighting the tightness in her chest. Then she looked full at him, all the blue of the sky shimmering in her eyes. “I have that letter with me now. I’d hoped to show it to the Talbots.”
“What does the letter say?” Rafe asked noncommittally.
“My parents were both English. They met in Sheffield and married there—they loved each other very much, that much I’ve always known, and they wanted children. But after my mother had three miscarriages, they decided to adopt. I was only two weeks old when they were notified about me. My birth mother, so the letter said, was a single woman who’d refused to divulge my father’s name and who later moved to Australia. She died in an accident in Sydney when I was just a year old.”
Again Karyn bent her head, wishing she didn’t find this recital so painful. “You can imagine how I felt,” she said in a low voice. “But there was more. The letter went on to say that I had a twin sister. Although my father had done his best to adopt both of us, another couple had put in a prior claim on my twin. Through a bureaucratic foul-up, my father was sent the adoption certificate for Fiona by mistake. Douglas and Clarissa Talbot, from Droverton in Cumbria—my mother had written down every detail she knew.” She glanced up, noticing for the first time that Rafe’s eyes weren’t black, as she’d thought last night, but the darkest of blues. Like a lake at dusk, she thought, full of secrets. “That’s why I’m here, Mr. Holden. I came to meet my twin sister, Fiona.”
“So until a month ago, you knew none of this?”
There was an edge to his voice. Karyn flushed. “That’s right. The letter ended by describing my parents’ mutual decision to keep the truth from me about the adoption.” We only wanted to spare you pain, darling, and we couldn’t have loved you more had you been born to us, her mother had written. In all the ways that count, you are indeed our dearly beloved daughter.
The words were inscribed on Karyn’s memory; she’d remember them, she was sure, for the rest of her life. But they were too intimate to share with Rafe Holden. Clearing her throat, she went on, “At first I was paralyzed by shock. I felt ungrounded, as though the world had rocked on its foundations and everything I’d taken for granted had been a lie. Then I got really angry that they’d never told me.” She bit her lip. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this. I haven’t told anyone. I couldn’t at the time, it was too painful.”
The fragility of her wrists, the strain in her voice: Rafe was almost overwhelmed by the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her. Or was he fooling himself? Maybe all he really wanted to do was kiss her senseless.
Passion. He’d sworn off it years ago. So what was it about Karyn Marshall that drew him like an eagle to its mate?
Whatever it was, he resented it deeply.
He said with brutal honesty, “I grew up in Droverton, and I’ve known Fiona all my life. If she’d been adopted, I’d have known.”
“You’d only have been a child at the time.”
“Seven years old. Old enough to know about village gossip. In all the years I’ve lived here there’s never been a whisper of anything you’ve so touchingly described.”
“So you think I’ve made it all up,” Karyn said, feeling cold creep into her bones.
“What else can I think?”
“And why would I bother spending money I can ill afford to cross the Atlantic on a fool’s errand?”
“How would I know? Although if you’re that strapped for cash, Willowbend would look pretty good.”
She wouldn’t lose her temper. She wouldn’t. Karyn said tightly, “So, according to you, even the resemblance is coincidence.”
“What else can it be? Douglas might be a thoroughly unpleasant man at times, but one thing I know—he worships the ground Clarissa walks on and he’d never have been unfaithful to her. Nor she to him. So, yes, it’s coincidence.”
“You’re so logical, so cold-blooded,” she cried. “Don’t you have any room for emotion? I don’t give a damn about money! All I want is to meet Fiona. My sister.”
“When I kissed you last night,” Rafe grated, “I wouldn’t have called either one of us cold-blooded. Why didn’t you tell me then who you were? You had the chance. Instead you played me like a fish on the hook, trying to insinuate yourself into Willowbend in any way you could. I hate being made a fool of. Particularly by a woman.”
“I didn’t do it on purpose! It just…happened.”
Something in her pinched face infuriated him. “You expect me to believe that?” he rasped. “Let me tell you something else. Fiona and I have been friends for years. I’m a very rich man, Karyn Marshall, and you’ve just admitted your circumstances are straitened. So quit trying to convince me of the purity of your motives.”
“You’re despicable,” Karyn seethed. “No better than Douglas, with whom I had a delightful interview this morning. Stay away or I’ll put the legal sharks on you—that was the gist of his little speech.”
Rafe’s eyes narrowed. “Douglas came to see you? I didn’t know that.”
“Oh, yeah?” she said rudely.
How dare she compare him with Douglas? “I’m telling you the truth,” Rafe said in a staccato voice.
“What do I care? For the last ten minutes you could have saved your breath—I’ve already decided to leave Droverton and stay away from Fiona, because she doesn’t know she’s adopted and it’s not my job to tell her. To hurt her. But of course you’re not going to believe me—I’m just a lying bitch who’s after your bucks. You can keep them, Rafe Holden! I don’t want them.”
She looked so furious, so utterly convincing. But Fiona hadn’t been adopted; he’d have known if she was. So Karyn Marshall’s whole story was fabrication fr
om beginning to end. “You belong on the stage,” Rafe said coldly, “you could make a fortune. Much as I hate to ally myself with Douglas, I’m going to repeat him. Leave here today and don’t come back. Or you’ll be sorry.”
“I can’t get out of here soon enough.”
Karyn pushed herself away from the wall. But some rocks that had fallen from the wall were hidden under the grass; her sandal skidded on one of them. As she lurched sideways, Rafe automatically reached out to save her, one arm around her waist, the other steadying her shoulder.
For a moment that was frozen in time, Karyn sagged against him. The hard wall of his chest, the latent strength of his fingers, their burning heat through her dress: she was pierced by a knife of desire so sharp that she almost cried out. As though she couldn’t help herself, she looked up, plunging into the dark depths of his eyes where she saw desire reflected, meeting her own, magnifying it. Briefly his arms tightened, so briefly that she wondered afterward if she’d imagined it. Then he thrust her away so hard that she staggered.
Trembling in every limb, Karyn fought for balance, all her distress and confusion rushing to the surface. “Last night you could be forgiven, because you thought I was Fiona. But today you know I’m not. You wanted to kiss me a moment ago, didn’t you? I know you did! How dare you kiss Fiona one day and me the next? As though we’re interchangeable.”
Rafe stood still, her accusation throbbing in his brain. Karyn’s body, so suddenly and unexpectedly in his arms, had struck him to the core. How could he deny it? How could he have prevented it? It had been elemental, instinctive, utterly beyond his control.
If he was going to marry Fiona, it was also totally against his principles.
He took refuge in anger. “Was that another of your clever little ploys—let’s see if I can get him to kiss me again? What’s next on the list?”