by Helen Conrad
She heard Lisa call David’s name, but she didn’t look back to see what was happening. Instead, she swung into the Camaro and fumbled under the seat to find where she’d hidden the extra key, then she was off, roaring down the dirt road, heading home.
David watched her go, ignoring Lisa’s call from the house. For some reason, Shawnee Carrington had taken hold of his imagination in a way women seldom did. She was beautiful and she was absolutely a sensual tug at his libido—how could it be any other way after the sensational introduction they’d had at the stream? But he knew a lot of beautiful women. None had ever touched his heart in a way that could shake up his life.
And she wasn’t going to, either. He knew that. Still, something about her seemed to reach in and grab hold of his peace of mind in a way none of the others ever did. Every word, every look she gave him, hit him in the gut, in the core of his emotional response.
She got to him. And he wanted her. That was part of it. The aching need to have her was building inside him. He wanted her in a way he hadn’t wanted a woman since high school, when he was first learning and experimenting with sensuality and the male response. She was under his skin now. He wasn’t going to be able to ignore what she did to him.
And at the same time, he knew he was going to have to make a few moves that were going to hurt her. He didn’t see any way he could avoid it. Things had been set in motion years ago and there was no way he could change them.
Was she going to hate him and his family even more? Probably.
He turned and headed toward the house. Maybe this wasn’t going to be such a boring summer after all.
CHAPTER FOUR
MEETING THE ANCESTORS
At first Shawnee was sure she never wanted to see David Santiago again as long as she lived. She’d been right in the first place—he was the enemy, and she should have known better than to let him get to her the way he had.
Granpa Jim was asleep when she got home, and she felt a wild need for comfort of some sort, so she made her way out to the stable to see Miki.
“Hello, old boy,” she murmured. Grooming her horse was one of her favorite activities. While she worked she could let her mind fly free, and at the same time, have the company of her closest friend. “We’ve got our work cut out for us, Miki. Things look bad.”
She stroked his silky neck, feeling a wave of affection for the big animal. He was so beautiful and so responsive. He was what she’d been living for lately. What would she do without him?
“But we can do it, you and I.” She leaned against his comforting strength, trying to hold back tears, fighting back that helpless feeling of despair. “We can do it,” she whispered as her vision blurred and her voice choked, “because we have to.”
Granpa Jim woke a short time later and she spent the rest of the afternoon—with very little success —trying to get Granpa Jim to return from the greener pastures of days gone by to face the realities of the here-and-now.
All the while, one part of her mind seethed with anger at David. She hated to think of him here, bothering her grandfather while there was no one around to protect him. What had he said to Granpa Jim? Had he tried to bully him? She would probably never know.
And that was exactly why she finally decided to go out with David after all.
First, she searched the house for evidence that there might be a deed somewhere. In the back bedroom, she found three boxes filled with letters and forms. She spent an hour going through them, throwing away half of what she found.
There were pictures of her parents that brought a lump to her throat, and pictures of Lisa and herself as children, playing in the sprinkler on a hot, August day, riding ponies as though they were stallions, smiling toothlessly from lips rimmed with birthday-cake icing. There were reports and insurance papers, theatre tickets and old Disneyland stubs. There were packets of seeds and old expired coupons for steak dinners at Parino’s. There were old passports and maps. But there was nothing to show that Granpa Jim had any claim to the land he had lived on for forty years.
What David had told her had been a shock. In her wildest dreams she’d never imagined that the land she’d lived on most of her life really belonged to the Santiagos. It still seemed impossible. Wouldn’t someone have said something? Her parents, her grandfather? Maybe Lisa knew the truth, but she doubted it. No, she was pretty sure this problem was going to rest on her own shoulders.
If only she knew where else to look for a deed. Maybe there was a safety deposit box somewhere. She tried questioning Granpa Jim but he couldn’t remember.
“Don’t hold with those banks, anyway,” was all he would mumble when she questioned him.
Shawnee was very much afraid David might be telling the truth. There certainly wasn’t any reason to think otherwise. But that didn’t mean she was giving up. Not a chance.
She closed her eyes at the thought, steeling herself for the fight ahead. Truth or not, it made no difference. No matter what she found, she wasn’t going to let her grandfather be bullied off the land. She wouldn’t allow the Santiagos to drive her grandfather from his home again.
But in order to fight them, she would need ammunition. Knowledge was power; didn’t they always tell you that? And David was the man who held that power over her.
So she would go to dinner with him. Maybe he would be able to give her information she could use. Maybe she would be able to talk him out of taking the land. She smiled ruefully. Hardly likely, but one never did know for sure.
But first she made a phone call to Reid Carrington in Destiny Bay. He was her cousin and an attorney who had helped her parents in the past. Luckily, he was in town and agreed to come out to Destiny Valley to see what he could do to untangle the land ownership problems she was having.
“I’ll be out tomorrow,” he promised. “Where shall I meet you?”
She hesitated. “How about the Kit Kat Koffee Shop on Main,” she suggested, thinking that would better than having him show up at their door and setting Granpa Jim off on one of his rampages.
“Great,” Reid said. “Eleven okay?”
“Wonderful.”
She fried her grandfather a few pieces of chicken, mashed some potatoes and made him a green salad to go with it, then took a quick shower and scanned her meager wardrobe for something to wear to meet David. She wanted to look special tonight. She told herself it was to turn him into putty so that she could mold him into whatever she chose and get more information from him, but deep down, she knew it was for more than that.
The evening was still hot, so she finally chose a cream-colored peasant dress with delicate embroidery around the wide neckline and a circular skirt that flared around her legs as she walked. She wove her thick hair into a long, loose plait down her back and slipped her feet into rope-mesh sandals. Then she left the house, determined to meet David on the road. She couldn’t risk having her grandfather see her going out with a Santiago.
She was almost to the highway before she saw his Mercedes SL 450 coming towards her. He pulled up and sat looking at her for a moment, his mood unreadable behind the dark glasses he wore to drive.
“Going my way?” he asked at last, coming out to open the door for her.
“Thinking about it,” she murmured in answer, letting him help her into the car. He was wearing grey slacks and a blue sports coat over a crisp white shirt, open at the neck. He looked fresh and confident, and she had a hard time remembering he was her opponent. How much nicer it would be to have him on her side!
“You won’t regret it.” He got back behind the wheel and turned the car back the way he’d come. “I promise you a dinner you won’t soon forget.”
There weren’t many restaurants in the sleepy town of Destiny, and what places there were hardly seemed likely to produce the kind of repast he was talking about. She wondered if he were planning to drive down into the closest beach city, Destiny Bay, or even farther, all the way to Santa Barbara. Would that be good or bad? It would certainly give them more time to
talk.
On the other hand, it would leave her stranded awfully far from home if she let her temper get the best of her and he retaliated in kind.
When he turned the silver car in through the gates to Rancho Verde, he caught her off-guard, and she found herself clutching the edge of her seat.
“Where are you going?” she asked sharply. She’d never come down the main drive before. The sides were lined with towering deodars which bordered a series of white-fenced paddocks, each sporting at least one sleek thoroughbred racehorse.
“I’m taking you to dinner, just as I promised.”
“But . . . not here?” Her voice sounded strangled.
“Why not?”
No. He couldn’t do this. And yet—what would it feel like to walk through these rooms? Suddenly pure excitement was flowing through her.
He pulled the car up before the massive solid-oak double doors of the entryway. “Have you ever been here before?”
She stared at the huge ranch house. Built before the turn of the last century, over a hundred years ago, it had the red-tiled roof and white-washed adobe walls, the high protective enclosure and black wrought-iron balconies, that followed the Spanish style of the times. How many stories she’d heard about this place, how many times she’d thought of walking through its flowered courtyard.
It had been a dream, something as remote as a trip to a star. And now, suddenly, here she was. Her skin was tingling with anticipation.
“No,” she said softly, gazing at the large stone planters, overflowing with yellow pansies and red moss roses, that sat at either side of the entry way. “No, I’ve never been here before.”
“Come on, then.” He came around and helped her out of the car, and she followed, all protests forgotten. Her eyes were wide as she looked around, taking in every detail, and she let him put a hand to the small of her back and lead her.
He took her through most of the lower floor, into the courtyard with its lovely water fountain, through the high-ceilinged dining-hall and airy sitting-room.
She didn’t say a word during the tour, but she knew it was affecting her on an emotional level that she couldn’t express aloud. She was feeling a strange mixture of joy and distress, wishing her grandfather could be here, wishing she could do something to hold the experience for him.
At one point, when David sensed her turmoil, he put an arm lightly around her shoulders, drawing her closer, and she found herself snuggling into the nook of his arm, as though she needed the warmth and support he offered. She didn’t look at him, but she took comfort from his touch. He held her with a mixture of pleasure and bemusement, as though he wasn’t quite sure when she would wake up and realize what she was doing, but he was going to enjoy it while he had the chance.
“It’s gorgeous,” she breathed when he led her out onto the terrace where a small table had been set for their dinner. “Just the way I imagined it.”
“My mother had a decorator in to completely redo the place when I was about fifteen,” he told her, helping her into a chair. “But I suppose it can’t be very different from the way it was when your family lived here.”
Oh, it was very different. She was sure of it. The Santiagos had a sense of proud elegance that stood in direct contrast to the rough and ready pioneer spirit her family had worn in those days. But that didn’t matter. The bare bones of the house were still the same, and she could feel the past in every room.
“It’s been forty years since my father bought this ranch from your grandfather,” David said quietly as a maid brought out their wine. “How long did your people have it?”
She glanced at him, then looked out over the rolling lawn that spread back towards the stables. She knew this stuff like the back of her hand.
“My great-great-grandfather, Andrew Barrett Carrington, bought Rancho Verde in 1882.” She recited it without thinking, a remnant of the litany Granpa Jim had repeated to her so many times,
David nodded. Ordinarily, he didn’t know any of this background history except in vague terms. He considered himself modern, living in the 21st century, not one to look back on the past with nostalgia. But he’d looked a few facts up, just for this visit. He’d already seen how she felt and he was ready to defend his position if he had to.
“Andrew Barrett Carrington bought Rancho Verde from Sebastian Diaz, son of Daniel Diaz who had the original land grant from the King of Spain.” He paused and she turned to look at him curiously. There was something in his voice that told her this was significant. “Sebastian Diaz was my father’s grandfather on his mother’s side.”
Shawnee gasped. She’d never heard that before.
“That can’t be.”
But she knew very well the only reason she said that was because she didn’t want it to be. That gave the Santiagos a claim with roots even older than her own. She didn’t want to accept that.
But she hadn’t heard it before. Did her family know about it? Surely Granpa Jim had to know. Why hadn’t he ever told her the Santiagos had a previous claim?
“I…I didn’t know,” she said, frowning. “Are you sure that’s right?”
David didn’t take offence. Instead, he grinned at her. “You don’t seem to believe anything I tell you,” he answered lightly.
She lifted her wineglass to her lips and sipped nervously, then set it down again. “Does this mean that your family has as much emotion invested in this place as mine does?” she asked.
She hated the question, hated the thought, but she had to know it all. Even if it made her own crusade a little less black-and-white.
“Of course.” He reached out to cover her hand with his own and she stared down at it, but she didn’t draw away. “My father’s burning ambition was to get back Rancho Verde, from the time he was a little boy. And he succeeded.”
The maid was placing a spinach salad in front of Shawnee, but she hardly noticed. Her mind was full this new information.
“That doesn’t excuse the methods he used,” she told him, her voice choked. “That doesn’t excuse the way he involved my grandfather in phony investments that fell through. The way he lent him money to invest again, then took his deed to the ranch to cover the loans when those investments went bad, too.”
David stared back into her fierce gaze for a long moment, then shrugged, taking his hand away from hers. “Your grandfather was a grown man,” he told her, his voice almost curt. “He should have been able to take care of himself.”
There, it was out. She felt a long sigh flow through her body and she let it go with a feeling of relief. Funny, but instead of making her angry, what David said filled her with satisfaction. Somewhere back in a little corner of her mind, maybe she’d always wondered if it were true, if the Santiagos had really stolen Rancho Verde. Now it was confirmed. Granpa Jim had been telling the truth all these years.
“Spoken like a true Santiago,” she said calmly, and picked up her fork to attack her salad.
The meal was every bit as good as David had promised and Shawnee enjoyed it with the hungry relish of a field worker. She was at Rancho Verde and that thought was exhilarating. She felt as though the life-blood of the place was flowing through her, as though she were somehow in touch with all the Carringtons who’d lived here before. All those stories she’d heard for so many years—they all formed the background of her life. Now she finally felt in touch with them. This was where Carringtons had lived and loved and built the Destiny Bay Valley into what it was today. Her heritage.
When the meal was over, she talked David into leaving the coffee for later and taking her on another exploration. She wanted to see the kitchen and the bedrooms and everything else there was to see.
“I don’t think you’d be interested in the library,” he told her, smiling despite himself at her eager interest in exploring it all. “The walls are covered with pictures of the Santiago and Diaz families.”
“Where is it?” She wanted to take in every bit of Rancho Verde and carry it away with her.
&nb
sp; The library was a large, gloomy room, made too dark by huge, heavy curtains hanging from the ceiling. There were no pictures of Carringtons, but then, why would there be out on the walls? They weren’t at her grandfather’s house either. So maybe they were still stored here, somewhere.
Still, this was fascinating. She met Sebastian Diaz and Maria Diaz Santiago and all the other progenitors of the family she was supposed to hate. Dan Santiago, David’s father, looked stern and unlovable, staring down off the wall at his son.
“Was he a hard father?” she asked, almost whispering, because that was what the room made her feel she should do.
“He liked to pretend he was.” She could hear reluctant affection in David’s voice. “He was always saying things like, ‘You’ve got to break a boy the way you do a colt. Never show him your weak spots’.”
She smiled at the gruff voice he assumed when he quoted his father. “And did he break you?” She thought she already knew the answer to that, but she wanted to hear what he had to say on the subject.
David’s laugh was low and soft. “I wouldn’t call it ‘break’. ‘Tame’ might be more like it.” He walked over to stand directly under his father’s portrait and the humor drained from his eyes. Tamed wasn’t even the right word. What did you call it when you made it impossible for your son to follow his own dreams? When you found ways to force him to come home and take up yours instead? His father had always had plans for Rancho Verde, and if he couldn’t live to fulfill them, he made damn sure his son took up the responsibility. Whether he wanted to or not.
But yeah, he’d loved his father. Idolized him in some ways. And that was what made it so hard to go against him in the end. Still, she didn’t want to know all that. He turned and managed a perfectly natural smile.
“His trouble was that his weak spots always showed, no matter how hard he tried to hide them. He loved his kids. I hope I’m as good a father when I have children of my own.”