Winning the Heiress' Heart

by Susanne Bellamy

  Winning the Heiress’ Heart

  By

  Susanne Bellamy

  Winning the Heiress’ Heart

  Copyright © January 2015, Susanne Bellamy.

  NOTE: This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  The Emerald Quest series:

  Other Books

  Dedication

  To my parents who, like Eva, also accepted the challenge to uproot themselves from England and travel to foreign climes.

  Acknowledgements

  With many thanks to my CP, Erin, and to Annie and Robin H

  for keeping me on the straight and narrow.

  Chapter One

  Hawaii 1960

  Lucien Martineau pushed open the back door of the plantation house. ‘There is Nuthin’ Like a Dame’ blasted from the kitchen radio along with his cook’s slightly off-key singing. Luc hung his fedora on the rack, dropped his suitcase by the door, and sniffed appreciatively. Roast pork.

  “How long till dinner, Annie?” He leaned around her ample frame and filched a taste of chocolate cake batter from the mixing bowl. My lucky day when Annie came to work for me.

  She turned, hand on hip, and raised the wooden spoon like a pointer at his chest. “Where you been, Luc? Jack Lyons rang hours ago. Been ringing twice a day since you left. Couldn’t get hold of you at that hotel you stayed in.”

  He paused, hand hovering over the rim of the bowl. Muscles tensed, his heartbeat sped up, hammering like a drum roll in his chest.

  The plantation estate sale! Had Benson agreed?

  As nonchalantly as he could manage, he leaned back against the counter and folded his arms. “What did he want?”

  “Said there’s a tenant in the Benson house, that English heiress the papers wrote about, and she needs a hand. Said you were the one to help her.”

  “Tenant? He’s leased the house then?” Jack had earned the bottle of imported single malt Luc had promised if he’d sealed the deal. He pushed off the counter, grabbed his hat, and was almost out the door when Annie called after him.

  “Yeah, heiress tenant. Dinner will be ready in an hour. Come home any later and I feed that pork to your dog.”

  Luc zipped back and kissed her cheek. “You’re looking at the new owner of the Benson plantation, and that pork will be waiting for me to celebrate when I get back.”

  Laughing aloud, he skirted the table and raced out the back door. He bounded off the verandah and up the track linking the two estates. If Jack had found a tenant for the house, Benson must have accepted his offer for the land. Which would give him twice the property his father had owned, and the best plantation on the island. That meant the Tourism Board contract was as good as his. The contract was in the bag.

  His foreman, Sam, met him halfway up the track. “Welcome back, boss. Good news?”

  “Yep. You can start clearing that track to connect us with next door.”

  “Benson sold it to you? I’ll get the boys right on it.”

  Giddy with elation, Luc strode up the hill, brushing past long-fringed palms. Late afternoon sun cast a golden light over the field of spiky leaves, and he paused to admire the rows of plants curving down to meet the track. Hawaii joining the Union was momentous, and if his research was accurate, the Island would be seeing a steady rise in the number of tourists visiting. Soon he’d be bringing in visitors from mainland USA and reaping the benefits of Statehood.

  A pity his father hadn’t seen eye-to-eye with him about this project. It was one of only a handful of disagreements they’d ever had. But that didn’t matter now because Benson had finally forgiven Luc’s ill-advised proposal to his daughter, Genevieve, and agreed to sell him the place.

  He breathed deeply; the sweet scent of pineapples and success surrounded him. For the first time in years, a sense of hope filled Luc’s chest. Finally, everything was working out.

  Three distinctive notes of bird call trilled and were answered from deep within the palm-filled ridge separating his plantation from Benson’s. A machinery track had to go through the lower slope to link the fields but otherwise, this forest remnant would remain intact.

  Adrenaline pumped through his body as he took the short cut through the palm grove. What a celebration he’d plan. Details for a tourist itinerary jostled in his mind. The two new teenage boys he was mentoring could be trained as guides, and he’d put in the order for the people mover tomorrow. Until it arrived from the mainland, they’d make do with smaller groups in Jeeps.

  As Luc crossed the ridge and strode downhill, he wondered why Jack had asked him to help the new tenant. Pity his excitement at the news had stopped him from thinking clearly before he left his house. A phone call to Jack might have easily sorted the problem and he could have been toasting his good fortune right now.

  Once he found out what the new tenant wanted, however, he’d head home and have that whiskey to celebrate. Soon.

  He rounded the last bend in the track, emerging on the western side of Benson’s plantation house. Sunlight bathed the roof in golden light, imperceptibly releasing its hold, until only the weather vane glittered in the last rays. Wide verandahs cast deep shadows, but a flash of white near the front door caught his attention.

  He climbed the side steps, strode around the corner and crashed into a ladder. Unbalanced, the ladder wobbled. Barely noting his stinging shin, a startled gasp was his only warning before a body dropped into his arms. A very feminine body, all curves and satiny skin and long, auburn hair.

  Instinctively, his arms tightened. His right hand slipped down bare thigh below a pair of tan shorts and held tightly while his left hand shaped the curve at the side of her breast. Milky-white skin, soft and smooth as satin, warmed beneath his tanned hands. Slowly, his gaze traveled up the length of woman in his arms.

  Strands of auburn hair slipped off her face as she raised her head, and her perfume, complex and elegant, tantalized his nostrils. It had been too long since he’d held such a delightful armful. Luc adjusted his grip and the slide of his hand along silky skin fired up desires he’d ignored since the Genevieve debacle. By rights he should have been embarrassed but right now, an apology was the last thing on his mind. Delicate features, a turned up nose and startled green eyes looked into his. A gentleman would immediately release her. A gentleman would apologize for causing her fall. Instead, he held her against his chest and grinned.

  A gentleman missed out on all the fun.

  “Hi there. I thought I was the one dropping in.”

  Rosy-pink flared along her high cheekbones but she gave him a quick smile. “My apologies. I don’t usually fall into a man’s arms at our first meeting.”

  Cool and cultured, her English accent explained her delicate coloring. But what was an English rose doing in the middle of pineapp
le fields?

  “Then I am honored to be the exception. Are you okay to stand?”

  “I’m fine, thank you.”

  Reluctantly, he released her and hooked his thumbs into his pockets.

  She took a step back before holding out her hand. “I’m Evangeline Abbott. You must be Monsieur Martineau?” Her accent on the French title and his name was that of a fluent French speaker.

  He shook her proffered hand, holding it longer than politeness dictated. Warm and soft, it fit snugly within his. “Please, call me Luc. A pleasure to meet you, Miss Abbott.”

  A pleasure indeed. His skin tingled with the memory of her body plastered against his. It had probably cut Jack to the quick having to ask for Luc’s assistance. Knowing his friend’s love of beautiful women, Luc had no doubt that, given half a chance, Jack would have monopolized her attention. He’d thank Jack later for sending him up to meet the new neighbor. “You’ve a fitting name for a newcomer to our little paradise.”

  A small frown knit her brow and she tipped her head to the side. “Abbott?”

  “Eve.”

  Her smile tightened and her gaze narrowed on him, cool and assessing. Had he overstepped some undefined boundary? The odd image of a door closing between them settled in his mind. “Don’t you like compliments, Eve?”

  “Not particularly, and I prefer Eva—to my friends. Mr. Lyons said he’d ask you to call on us.”

  Us? She was married? Disappointment stabbed and he clung to the smile he’d worn since Eva Abbott had landed in his arms. Of course some lucky man would have put his ring on her finger long ago. No wonder his compliment had drawn such a cool response. “I gather Mr. Abbott wants to speak with me. Is he home?”

  “Mr. Abbott?” She frowned before a broad smile took its place. The cool mask fell away and her expression lit up as she pronounced his name. “Oh, you mean Sebastian?”

  That Sebastian was the love of her life couldn’t have been clearer. Love like that had skipped Luc’s family. A band tightened around his chest and threatened to suffocate him. He didn’t understand that sort of smothering love. He didn’t do love.

  Eva giggled and his attention snapped back to lush pink lips curved in a smile and the hint of a dimple on her left cheek. Her green gaze met his. “He’s not quite eighteen yet, but he’d be chuffed you thought him older.”

  “Chuffed?” He shook his head and wondered what had happened to his grasp of English. “Forgive me, but I don’t understand what you want from me. I thought Mr Abbott wanted my assistance?”

  She looked away and her right hand toyed with her left, rubbing her ring finger. It was bare, but she twisted her fingers around it as though she was used to playing with a piece of jewelry. “There is no husband, Monsieur Martineau. Just me. Look, would you like a drink while we talk? Mr Lyons said you’d be able to help me with Seb. He’s the reason I wanted to speak with you.”

  Luc nodded and his smile firmed. She wasn’t married. There was no husband. Just a teenager who needed help. Jack must have talked to her about his work with Acky and Moe. Was this Seb at risk, too?

  Intrigued, he followed her straight back and softly swaying hips as she led him down the wide hallway and through the library. Half-unpacked boxes littered the polished wooden floor. Several contained expensive, leather-bound books, the type of volumes passed down from one generation to the next. The sort of treasures one would ship to Hawaii if they were planning to make a permanent home there. The possibilities opened up by his newest and nearest neighbor were looking better by the minute. “Are you planning to stay a while?”

  She turned a steady gaze on him. “Indeed, I hope so. We’ve sold everything in England.”

  “A major move then. Do you miss it? Your home, I mean.”

  She looked through the window. Beyond the house, dusk was quickly falling. She touched her fingers to a pane and Luc sensed she was seeing a remembered scene. A soft sigh fluttered away, so soft he wasn’t quite sure if he’d imagined it. “I miss the garden at Bellerose most. Gardenias and roses scenting the night air. I doubt they will grow, let alone thrive, in this hotter climate.”

  “You might be surprised what flourishes here.” Including an English rose, if he had his way.

  She blinked, as though the sound of his voice had woken her from her reverie and dropped her hand to her side. “Perhaps. Shall we?” Straightening her shoulders, she led the way into the sparsely furnished reception room.

  Gut and fists clenching, he stopped in the doorway. Not this room.

  The last time he’d been in this room, he’d proposed to Genevieve Benson and she had dumped him. Her dismissal ghosted through his mind and his jaw tightened.

  “With a divorce in your family and a mother who’s the scandal of the island? How could you ever think I’d consider marrying you, darling? We’ve had a good time, Luc, but you’re not marriage material. Although if you make an indecent amount of money, I’m sure some woman will be only too happy to overlook your shortcomings.”

  Eva’s voice intervened in his dark thoughts. “I’m sorry I can’t offer you a selection yet but I have a tolerable sherry. Will you have a glass while we talk?” She stood by the sideboard and waited, hand on a crystal decanter.

  Luc forced himself to step into the room and walk to the nearest armchair. Desperately, he scrambled to collect his thoughts. Never again. Love was for fools. He looked across at Eva Abbott’s curves. A breeze drifted through the open window and carried her scent to him. His arms still held the ghost of her body against his. An affair, however, would be very pleasant.

  “Thank you, yes. And my friends call me Luc. I hope we’ll be friends—Eva?”

  “Perhaps.” She poured two glasses of golden sherry and carried one to the small table beside him, carefully placing it within easy reach. “Maybe you’d like to hear the favor I have to ask of you before you offer more.”

  He sipped the sherry. “Spanish?”

  “You’ve a discerning palate, Mr—Luc.”

  “I’m more a Scotch whisky man but I appreciate quality, wherever it’s from. So, this favor—it has to do with Seb?”

  “How did you—of course, Mr. Lyons told you.”

  “I haven’t spoken to Jack but his message said you needed my help. I assumed he mentioned the program I’ve been piloting with the island boys.”

  She sat and folded her hands neatly in her lap. “He did and it sounds like the answer to my prayers. Please, tell me more. You work with them on your plantation, don’t you?”

  “They’re boys at risk, some of whom would likely end up in jail, but I teach them the ins and outs of growing pineapples and the everyday workings of a plantation. Whether or not they choose to stay with me afterwards, they all develop skills that make them employable.”

  “Mr Lyons said you’ve had a great deal of success. He was talking about you turning the lives of those boys around. That’s very commendable.” She gave him a silent toast and sipped her sherry.

  He shrugged then grinned inwardly, aware of the irony. Compliments made him uncomfortable, too. “I offer them the opportunity. If they put in the work, they succeed and they learn that working brings its own rewards.”

  “I haven’t heard of another program like it before. It sounds wonderful, and exactly what Seb needs.”

  “Bit of a hell-raiser, is he?”

  “Not exactly but—he needs more discipline than I can give. Frankly, he needs a man’s guidance. I’ve done my best but I’m not his father.”

  “Seb’s your brother?”

  She paused before answering quietly. “Nephew. Phillip—my oldest brother—was killed recently.” She dropped her gaze to her white-knuckled hands and drew an audible breath before slowly releasing it. “He was a test pilot. When his plane crashed, I became Seb’s guardian.” She pressed her lips firmly together before quietly clearing her throat.

  “My condolences. That’s a difficult task, especially when you must also be grieving for your brother. Do you not have ot
her family to help?”

  She raised her glass and sipped before carefully replacing it on the side table. Arms folded across her stomach, she stared at a spot on the rug between their feet. “Harry, my other brother, was lost when his ship was torpedoed early in the war, and Seb’s mother and my parents died in the London bombings. The war deprived me of most of my family.”

  Jaw tight, Luc nodded and frowned. Loss and grief were probably the story for many British families. “The war tore many families apart.”

  “Pearl Harbour must have been as bad. I guess you know what it was like.” Finally, she raised her head and made eye contact.

  His stomach clenched as vivid memory rolled back the years. He knew. Twelve years old and free as a bird, he and Jack had camped overnight in Keaiwa Heiau National Park. Early the next morning, they’d used his birthday gift of binoculars to identify the silhouetted shapes of the American Fleet anchored in the harbor. Instead, bombs rained from the sky and fire lit the water. He doubted the memory would ever fade. “They were terrible times.”

  “Seb’s the only family I have left. I’m doing what I can but lately he’s become...difficult.”

  “He’s a teenage boy. Most go through a rebellious phase. I sure did.” He smiled. Perhaps the personal remark would lift her anxiety.

  She gave him a distracted half-smile and interlaced her fingers in her lap. “I understand he’s grieving for his father—they were very close, you see—but I fear he might follow in Phillip’s footsteps.”

  “Flying, you mean?”

  “I couldn’t bear to lose him, too. He’s got the same…reckless attitude Phillip had. Combined with a young man’s sense of his own invincibility, well… That’s part of the reason I decided to sell and come to a new country, somewhere very different from England.”

  “And take his mind off flying?”

  “Yes.”

  Hesitant to give offense, at the same time he understood the challenge Eva had undertaken. A few tips on raising a young man wouldn’t go astray. “Sometimes you have to compromise. It’s much better than butting your head against a brick wall.”