by Penny Jordan
Tactfully directing the girls’ attention away from those things she thought too old, or too impractical for them, she helped them both to choose a pair of pedal-pushers each, with patterned cuffs, and matching tops. There were pretty flat-soled shoes to go with them, and although the outfits weren’t cheap, the quality of them was good.
A stroll along the walkways revealed other boutiques, all with mouth-watering window displays, and jewellers shops that made Natasha blink in astonishment. The only purchase she made for herself was a soft cream Stetson and a couple of pairs of slim-fitting jeans, from a small store set out like a saloon bar from a television western.
Although the hat made her feel acutely self-conscious, she recognised that she would need it if she was to accompany the girls on their rides round the ranch. As yet she had explored nothing of her new environment, and if she was to stay here for six months…
A small frown gathered on her smooth forehead. Initially, when she had made that impulsive decision, she had been fired by temper and righteousness; now in the cold light of reality she wondered if she had the strength of will to carry it through. Although Dolores had softened slightly towards her, she knew that if it came to a show-down the Mexican woman would align herself very firmly on Jay’s side.
Jay could, and most likely would, make life extremely difficult for her. She gnawed at her bottom lip; she could think of at least half a dozen excellent reasons for leaving Texas, and only one good one for staying, and that was her conviction that Tip had made that will for a specific purpose, and that for her to leave would be letting him down.
Perhaps it was the very fact that he seemed to have chosen to put all his faith in her rather than his grandson that made her feel she ought to stay. The vulnerability of such an action reached out to her, touching her own inner sensitivity.
Rosalie, tugging at her arm, brought Natasha out of her reverie. ‘Just look at that car—it’s really neat. Just what I want when I get my licence.’
They were standing outside a car showroom window and, like the twins, Natasha gazed admiringly at the sleek lines of the Mercedes sports car. Oddly enough she had once contemplated buying such a car for herself, but had rejected the idea on the grounds that it was totally impractical for use in a city such as London. Now as she gazed at the shiny new vehicle a tiny demon of mischief stirred inside her, and she remembered her idea of getting herself a car to shock Jay. She needed a car while she was out here in Texas, and if she bought one like this it would mean she had made a commitment to staying that she could not go back on. A car like that would give any woman confidence—panache. She stared thoughtfully at its shiny red paintwork, and wondered a little dazedly why she was hesitating. After all, it was not as though she couldn’t afford it. Hitherto she had been thrifty with her inheritance, barely even spending the interest it accumulated. She made a few swift mental calculations: a telephone call to her bank in London…a few moments explaining the position to the sales staff.
‘Let’s go inside,’ she said to the twins. ‘I think I might buy it.’
Somewhere at the back of her mind lurked the pleasant thought of the shock with which Jay would receive her purchase. He would be bound to suspect then that she wasn’t the penniless fortune-hunter he seemed to think. He would be forced to back down, to swallow his insufferable accusations. She swallowed hard…perhaps he might even apologise to her…
She took advantage of the girls’ momentary shock to sweep them inside.
The salesman listened as she carefully explained her situation to him, the girls enthusiastically roaming around the showroom.
A telephone was put at her disposal while she telephoned London. Her bank, although a little surprised by her request, promised to immediately telex the funds to her.
A brief test drive, during which she found that she loved the easy way the car handled, confirmed her rash decision.
With a promise that the car would be delivered to the ranch within a couple of days, Natasha took her leave of the salesman.
All the way back to the hotel, the girls chattered enthusiastically about the car.
‘Gee, won’t Uncle Jay be surprised!’ Cherry exclaimed. ‘I can’t wait for them to deliver it. Will you take us both for a ride?’
Telling them that she would, Natasha shepherded them to where their chauffeur waited with the car.
In a slow drawl he informed her that it was time they returned to the hotel for lunch. They arrived back with half an hour to spare. Just enough time to go up to their room and have a wash and brush up before lunch.
The room was enormous by British standards; the bathroom vast and equipped with a wide range of toiletries.
Natasha elected to have a quick shower, redressing and then renewing her light make-up while the girls had theirs.
Feeling much fresher, she accompanied them back down to the elegant dining-room.
Nearly all the women diners were dressed elegantly, some of them even wearing hats; and a good many of them seemed to be lunching in all-female groups of fours or sixes.
‘Their husbands will be having lunch at the Cattleman’s Club,’ Cherry whispered in response to Natasha’s comment.
‘Look, here’s Uncle Jay…’
The moment Jay joined them in the lounge, a waitress appeared to take their order for prelunch drinks.
Like the girls, Natasha opted for a long, cool, fruit concoction. Jay ordered whisky and water.
‘Well, kids, did you get what you wanted?’
His smile…his relaxed air of amiability were directed at the twins and deliberately seemed to exclude her, Natasha noticed.
‘Yeah, we got some great things, but wait until you see what Natasha bought, Uncle Jay!’
A cool, derisive look slanted her way.
She had known, of course, that the girls wouldn’t waste much time in telling him of her surprise purchase, but for some reason a deep sense of unease gathered coldly in the pit of her stomach. As Cherry burst into excited speech, describing the splendours of the car, and how they had just walked into the showroom and bought it there and then, Natasha’s feelings underwent an about-turn, and she longed to hold back the girls’ excited chatter.
Was she the only one to notice how cold and condemning Jay’s face was growing? Was she the only one of the small group to be aware of the quality of the silence gradually descending on them? Couldn’t the twins see how furious their uncle was?
To Natasha’s relief, the maitre d’ came to escort them to their table before the twins noticed anything lacking in their uncle’s response.
Over a very pleasant meal of fresh scallops followed by steak and a mixed salad, Natasha felt her tension grow and grow, to the point where she could barely eat a mouthful of food. Something had gone badly wrong. Far from being put properly in his place by the knowledge that she could afford to purchase such an expensive toy, Jay seemed to be regarding her with even more distaste and bitterness than he had done before.
Lunch wasn’t a protracted affair, and Jay had to leave immediately afterwards to attend some further business meetings.
Natasha and the girls spent their afternoon doing some more shopping. Natasha was tempted by a silk dress she saw in a boutique window and, egged on by the girls, went in to try it on.
As she had ruefully suspected when she first looked at it, it might have been made for her. With a wry shrug, she decided ‘in for a penny in for a pound’, and recklessly agreed to buy it.
The dress was by a British designer, in a style often favoured by the Princess of Wales, with a dropped waistline, and a ruched band of fabric over the hips—a style that could only be worn by the slim-hipped. The silk was white, with an all-over pattern of small black splodges, and here and there a flower outline traced out in buttercup-yellow and orangey red—not the sort of thing she normally chose, but for all its demure round neckline and long sleeves it was undeniably the sort of dress a woman wore for a man. Perhaps it was something to do with the softness of the sil
k, or maybe it was that tantalising slit up one side—Natasha didn’t know. She already had a good black linen jacket she could wear over it if need be and a pair of black and white court shoes so, firmly resisting the girls’ entreaties to buy something else, she shepherded them out of the shop.
By the time they had paused mid-afternoon to have coffee and ice-cream, and completed the rest of the girls’ shopping requirements, it was time to head back to the hotel.
‘I’m bushed,’ Cherry commented, stifling a yawn as their limousine dropped them outside. ‘I don’t know how on earth you can walk all day in those heels, Natasha.’
‘I’m used to it,’ was Natasha’s response.
Working in the exclusive Bond Street gallery had meant that she always had to be smartly dressed, and that included wearing high heels. She was also used to walking on hard pavements, unlike the girls, and when she said this they looked at her, puzzled for several seconds, until she realised why, and amended with a smile, ‘I mean sidewalks. We call them pavements at home.’
From then on until they reached their room, Natasha kept them entertained by explaining the origins of the English language, telling them how it could be traced back to the influences of various civilisations.
‘I never knew English could be so interesting,’ was Rosalie’s comment as they walked into their room.
The first thing Natasha did was to slip off her shoes, and wriggle her toes.
‘Umm…bliss! What time is your uncle due to get back?’
‘Not for a while yet. I’m hungry,’ Cherry complained.
‘Well, we could order something from room service, if you like.’
‘No.’ Cherry shook her head. ‘I’d like to go down and have something in the coffee lounge, then we can sit and watch everyone come and go.’
In the end all three of them went down, Natasha simply ordering coffee for herself and then sitting back as she watched the twins devouring their sandwiches with healthy appetites.
‘There’s Uncle Jay!’ Rosalie suddenly commented, putting down her milk shake.
‘Yuck, and just look who he’s got with him,’ Cherry agreed in a disgusted voice. ‘That’s her,’ she told Natasha, as the latter glanced over in the direction of Jay and his tall, ethereally blonde companion.
‘You know, the one we were telling you about, who Jay was going to marry. I bet she knew he was coming to Dallas and tracked him down.’
An odd feeling engulfed her as Natasha watched Jay with the other woman. She said something to him, touched his sleeve with pretty deference, gazing up at him, her mouth trembling slightly.
They were too far away for Natasha to see Jay’s expression, but there was something about the tender, caring way he bent towards the other woman that made her acutely conscious of a vast emptiness in her own life that could have been filled by a man who loved her and whom she loved in return.
The lack of a husband and children, which she had never previously regretted, now caused a deep ache in the region of her heart. She looked at the twins and then she looked at Jay, and she was overwhelmed by a sense of loss so intense that it almost brought tears to her eyes.
What was happening to her? Why on earth was she going all emotional, simply because she saw Jay looking at another woman with tenderness and concern? She must be going soft, losing her grip.
‘I hate her. And I wish she’d leave Uncle Jay alone.’ The harshness in Rosalie’s voice brought her out of her own disturbing thoughts.
Against her will, her attention was drawn once again to the couple who stood so close together, Jay’s dark head bent so comfortingly towards the blonde one of his companion. He touched her hand, gently, reassuringly, and a wave of intense aching swept through Natasha. How long had it been since she had been able to lean on someone, the way Jay was being leant on now? How long had it been since someone had cared enough about her to want to protect her?
‘Mom hated her, too,’ Cherry added thoughtfully. ‘I wish we could think of a way to make her leave Uncle Jay alone.’ Her eyes lit up and she turned enthusiastically towards Natasha. ‘Perhaps you could pretend that Uncle Jay was in love with you.’
Oh, for the unbounded scope of a child’s imagination, Natasha thought ruefully, her own having difficulty in adapting to this unlikely scenario.
‘Uncle Jay’s seen us,’ Rosalie hissed. ‘He’s coming over…’
As Natasha watched discreetly, she saw him detach himself from his companion, and walk over to them with his cattleman’s easy lope.
‘Shopping all done, kids?’
‘You bet! It’s all upstairs in our rooms.’
‘Well, I think we’d better get up there and collect it, and then head out for the ranch.’
He accompanied them up in the lift, and Natasha was appalled by the sensation of claustrophobic awareness of him that the ride aroused.
With both girls standing between them, it was ridiculous that she should be so aware of him, and yet she was. When the girls bounded out of the lift ahead of them, she felt so tongue-tied that she couldn’t have spoken even if she had wanted to.
The feeling of loneliness, of betrayal almost, that she had experienced when she saw him standing with someone else had left her so confused and frightened that she was barely capable of forming a coherent thought.
Alongside that pain ran another, almost as bewildering. She wanted him to like her, to approve of her, to smile at her as he had at that other woman. But why? He was everything she most disliked: self-opinionated, chauvinistic, uncompromisingly determined to stick to his own views, right or wrong, judgemental, and worse. And yet, here she was, quivering like a weak-kneed idiot and aching for him to turn and smile at her with genuine liking.
Almost in a daze she followed the girls into their room, standing by while they gathered up packages, which they loaded into Jay’s waiting arms.
‘These are yours, Natasha,’ Cherry reminded her, handing her her own parcels.
Out of the corner of her eye she saw Jay’s frown, and her heart dropped. She longed to scream at him that what she had bought she had paid for from her own money, but pride wouldn’t let her. He was subjecting her to that same derisively cold smile he had given her earlier when the twins had told him about her new car. Was he resentful of the fact that she, a woman, could afford such a vehicle? Was that the problem?
Loaded up with parcels, the girls left the room. Shakily, Natasha made to follow them, but Jay grasped her arm ungently, kicking the door closed with one foot.
‘Not yet, you don’t,’ he grated, swinging her round to face him, and tumbling the packages on to the large bed. ‘I want to have a word with you. What the hell do you mean by buying yourself that car? What did you do—charge it to the ranch? Well, I’ve got news for you…if you think that Gramps’s will entitles you to go round spending money like it’s going out of style, you’ve got one hell of a shock coming to you!’
Anger, pain, shock—all of them were there. All of them intense and agonising, so much so she was hard put to know which she felt the most.
‘What are you going to do about it?’ Her throat arched, her head tilting back so that she could look into his face; so that her eyes could meet his and he could read the scorn and fury burning there. ‘Rescind the sale?’
Her nails dug into the palms of her hands as she prayed that he would; her earlier feelings of loneliness and longing forgotten. Oh, God, if only he would. She’d love to see the look on his face when the salesman told him just how that car had been paid for. Did he honestly think she could go out and buy herself an expensive piece of machinery like that without so much as a by your leave? Did he really have such a low opinion of her that he thought her capable of such cupidity, such greed?
‘Why don’t you just go right ahead?’ she challenged him through gritted teeth.
‘And make myself and my grandfather a laughing stock throughout Texas? No way… You’ve played it smartly right enough, honey. You get to keep your car, but nothing in life
comes free, and you’ll have to pay for it one way or another.’
‘Who’s going to make me?’ Natasha challenged, her Russian temper suddenly blazing out of control, as she looked at him, ashen-faced and gold-eyed. ‘You?’
She saw an instant too late that she had pushed him too far. She felt the edge of the bed behind her as the hardness of his body pushed up against hers, propelling her backwards, his arms tightening, imprisoning her, as he said harshly, ‘You’re damn right, I am.’
And then his mouth came down on hers, punishing, ravishing, assaulting her senses and her defences in a way that left both bruised and defiled.
It was a kiss without passion or mercy, a cold, hateful domination of her body, that revealed her essential feminine weakness. She knew that if he chose to rape her here and now there was nothing she could do about it, and she also knew that he was well aware of her fear and vulnerability.
As he released her and stood slightly back from her, nothing could stop her from brushing shaking fingers across her mouth, in a childish and instinctive attempt to wipe away the taint of him.
Something flickered in his eyes, some deep instinct she recognised and rejected in one choking, agonised breath. She knew that he was going to kiss her again, and yet she didn’t move—couldn’t move, simply standing there like a mechanical toy.
‘No woman brushes the taste of me off her mouth as though she’s tasted poison, especially a woman like you!’
She heard the anger throbbing in his voice and winced beneath the bite of his fingers as they clamped round her upper arms.
His breath grazed her skin, clean and fresh, oddly disturbing to her senses.
His head bent again, and when she tried to evade the punishment she knew was coming, quickly averting her head, his hand captured it, sliding into her hair, arching her throat back under the pressure his fingers were exerting, his voice thick and raw as he said softly, ‘If you hate my touch that much, perhaps this is the best punishment of all.’
She cringed beneath the slow movement of his mouth along the exposed column of her throat, expecting with every second to feel the sharp bite of his teeth inflicting pain, bunching her muscles against him until she was shaking with tension.