A Wolf in Sheep's Clothing
Page 33
Not that we’d had much chance to really talk to each other yet. The past few days had been hectic. First there’d been more visits from the police, then Beatrice’s funeral and finally, my parents had surprised me by flying in from Chicago to assure themselves that I was safe and to meet James. As a result, Cameron and I hadn’t been able to spend much time together. Tomorrow we had a date to go riding. Sloan had offered to let me take Saturn, and Cameron would ride Lace Ribbons.
But first we had to get through tonight. An hour ago, right after we’d had dinner, my father—I was still getting used to calling James that—had announced that he’d signed a new will that afternoon, and then he’d revealed the contents. My stomach was still churning, and I was sure that Cameron’s was, too. She couldn’t be happy with what her father had done.
I’d objected, but neither Sloan nor Cameron had backed me up. However, as soon as James had retired for the night, she’d asked me to come to her room for a sister-to-sister chat.
Cameron flipped on some music, and the soft strains of a Chopin étude filled the room. Then she squatted down, opened the small cabinet next to the sofa and grabbed the bag of cat tidbits. The casual way she tossed a handful of them in Hannibal’s direction told me that this was part of their nightly routine. When she reached into the cabinet again, I expected her to bring out chocolate, but instead, she withdrew a crystal decanter and two glasses. “I need some brandy,” she announced. “How about you?”
“That would be great.” Brandy might be just the ticket to settle the nerves that were dancing in my stomach. As she poured us generous amounts, I moved to join her in the small alcove, then took the glass she handed me. We both took a sip before Cameron settled herself in one corner of the sofa, tucked her feet under her and pointed at the other corner.
“Sit,” she said. “I told Sloan I wasn’t going to send you off to the carriage house until we’d hashed out this business of the will.”
I found myself wanting to smile as I sat down. In the short time that I’d known Cameron, I was learning that she had a habit of ordering people around.
“You’re upset with Dad because he’s leaving a third of the ranch to you.”
She also had a remarkable knack for cutting right to the chase. “Aren’t you?” I asked. “And Sloan must be, too. I mean, he came back here to marry you and he was counting on inheriting half. Now he only gets a third. And you—” I gestured with the brandy snifter “—you were supposed to inherit half, too. It’s not fair.”
“Okay, let’s talk about fair. In order to get half of the ranch, Sloan and I had to agree to marry and eventually produce a McKenzie heir. Don’t get me wrong. I like Sloan, and there’s no one I would trust more with half of this ranch, but we were never in love. If we’d gone through with the wedding, we would have had to give up what you and Sloan have found together. Would you want us to have missed out on that?”
“No. Of course not. But what about Austin? He’s lost so much. Is it fair that he doesn’t inherit anything?”
Cameron’s eyes hardened a bit, and I could see James in her. “Austin has to get himself straightened out first. Marcie’s been a good influence on him, but he was at the gambling tables in Vegas on the very day that I disappeared. We’ll assure him that he has a job here and a chance to prove himself. Don’t you think that’s fair enough?”
I nodded. I’d had a chance to talk with both Austin and Marcie at Beatrice’s funeral, and I believed that with Marcie’s help, Austin had a good chance of really turning his life around. “But I still don’t think the will is fair to you and Sloan.”
“Would you feel better about the will if you’d been raised here?” She made a sweeping gesture with her free hand. “If all this had been a part of your life?”
I frowned as I thought about it. “I suppose.”
“Then is it fair that by a twist of fate I grew up here and you were put up for adoption?”
I stared at her. “Okay, maybe you have a point there, but the fact remains that I wasn’t raised here. I don’t know anything about breeding or training horses or running a ranch.”
“So what? Sloan tells me that you love horses, that you’ve always dreamed of owning one of your own. And from what I learned watching that soap you write for, you have a quick mind and a fertile imagination. I don’t think it will take you long to get up to speed.”
I was learning that my sister had a quick mind, too. Not to mention the fact that she would have given Pepper and me a run for our money on the debate team. I took another sip of brandy. “You’ve been watching Secrets?”
She grinned at me. “Every day for the past five weeks—ever since Dad told me about you. I insisted that we couldn’t contact you personally. It had to be your decision to come to the ranch. Once he sent the anonymous letter, I made him swear that he wouldn’t interfere any more than that.”
I studied her. “Why not?”
For the first time, I saw temper flash into her eyes. “Because of what he did to you—putting you up for adoption. It sucks. I think he ought to be horsewhipped.”
For the first time since James had revealed the contents of his will—no, for the first time since I’d learned that I had a twin sister, I felt all of my tension ease.
Cameron set her glass down, rose and began to pace back and forth in front of the sofa. “Don’t get me wrong. I love Dad, but I can’t understand how he could have done that. He gave you up for adoption! He kept us apart all of these years. I simply can’t fathom it.” She turned to me. “Leaving you a third of the ranch is the least he can do. Sloan and I told him that. We told him that if he didn’t leave part of the ranch to you, he’d never see either of us again.”
Shock streamed through me. I could see the truth of what she was saying in her eyes, hear it in her voice, and I couldn’t even begin to name the emotions swirling through me. Words didn’t have a chance of getting past the lump in my throat. Rising, I went to her, put my arms around her and held on tight. After a long moment, I pulled back. “I don’t know what to say.”
She took my hands and squeezed them. “Tell me that you’ll stay here, be my sister and help Sloan and me run this ranch.”
Suddenly, it was so simple. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do that.”
“Fine.” Cameron swiped the heels of her hands over the dampness on her cheeks. “Now, I have two more questions.”
My brows shot up. “Only two?”
She laughed as we retrieved our brandies. “Two for starters.”
“Hey, Red!” We both moved toward the balcony at the sound of Sloan’s voice. He was standing below us in the garden, his hands on his hips and a wide smile on his face. I was almost getting used to my heart turning over when I looked at him. Almost.
“You can’t have her back yet,” Cameron said.
He frowned up at Cameron. “You haven’t convinced her to accept the will yet?”
She laughed. “Oh, ye of little faith. Of course, I did. And I didn’t even have to pull out my best argument.”
“What was it?” I asked curiously.
She made a sweeping gesture with her hand. “The fact that what this hacienda has needed all along is two mistresses. Starting with us, they’re all going to lead long, happy lives.”
Sloan shifted his gaze to me. “You okay?”
“Yes. I’m fine.” And I knew that I was, that somehow everything was finally as it should be.
“Then why don’t you stay there with your sister? Get to know one another a little better. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“I’d like that,” I said. But I had second thoughts as soon as he turned and walked toward the carriage house.
“You can always sneak away before morning and surprise him,” Cameron said, reading my mind. When he was out of sight, she drew me back into the room. “Now for my first question—what is going to happen to Mallory Carstairs when she comes out of that coma?”
I grinned at her. “She’ll be suffering from temporary amnesia, and t
hen, of course, she’s going to find out that she has an identical twin sister that she was separated from at birth.”
Hannibal glared at us both as we collapsed on the sofa in laughter.
ISBN: 978-1-4592-0906-0
A WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING
Copyright © 2011 by Harlequin Books S.A.
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A WOLF IN SHEEP’S CLOTHING
Copyright © 1991 by Joan Mertens Johnston
TELL ME YOUR SECRETS…
Copyright © 2006 by Carolyn Hanlon
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