by Kay Hooper
Amanda looked at him for a moment before responding, and she was a little startled at how unsteady her voice was. “I know you don’t believe it, but I don’t want Glory. I don’t want the money or—or any of it. All I want is my past—and my name. Is that too much to ask?”
Walker smiled without amusement. “you’re right. I don’t believe it.”
She wasn’t surprised, except that his flat statement caused her an unexpected twinge of—of what? Of pain? “Why can’t you believe it?” she heard herself ask. “Why do all my motives have to be greedy ones?”
“The least improbable explanation generally turns out to be the truth,” he replied dryly. “And avarice is very probable. I can’t begin to tell you how many normally rational and devoted relatives I’ve seen squabble over the wills of the dearly departed. To hear no objection during the reading of a will is the exception, not the rule.”
“Even so, can’t you accept that there might be something more important to me than money?” Disturbed, Amanda realized that this wary lawyer’s opinion of her meant far too much for her peace of mind— and when had it happened?
“I could accept it,” he told her, still as dry and unfeeling as dust, “if you had told the truth about everything else. But you haven’t—Amanda. The background you offer is full of holes, you’re vague and evasive about what you supposedly remember, and how you spent the past twenty years is anybody’s guess. You reappear suddenly and without much explanation, claiming virtual amnesia—and there’s a fortune at stake. Shall I go on?”
“No.” She turned her gaze to the peaceful scene spread out before them, and wished she could be as tranquil. “I think You’ve made your opinion quite clear.”
“Then we understand each other. I don’t believe you’re Amanda Daulton, and I won’t change my mind without a hell of a lot more proof than You’ve offered so far.”
“Then,” she said, “I’d call it a good thing that Jesse’s in charge here instead of you. A very good thing.”
“Don’t be too confident,” he warned her with a very faint bite in his lazy voice. “If you think Sully and Reece are going to stand by and do nothing while you get your hooks into Glory, your research into the Daulton family was seriously deficient.”
He left without another word, striding across the lawn and vanishing from her sight as he took the path home.
Amanda didn’t move for a long time, and she didn’t try to figure anything out. But her weary mind did offer up one fairly reliable conviction for her to ponder. Walker McLellan was definitely feeling about her now.
And she didn’t think he liked her very much.
“Be careful you don’t burn,” Maggie advised, pausing as she took a shortcut across the patio from the rear wing to the main house.
“I’m wearing three layers of sunscreen, two of them waterproof,” Amanda promised, setting her tote bag down beside a lounge chair at the pool. “it’s as automatic as putting on my clothes, believe me; I practically burn with a roof over my head and on a cloudy day. But I’ve been looking at this beautiful pool for three days now, and I couldn’t stand it anymore.”
Maggie smiled. “Better to start now than in July; maybe you can build up some resistance.”
“Maybe. Anyway, Jesse said he needed to work in his study after breakfast, so I thought I’d swim a little. Is swimming at night allowed, by the way?”
“Allowed—but don’t come out here alone. The house is so big that if you got in trouble we might not hear you.”
“That sounds like a sensible precaution,” Amanda agreed. “And do the dogs go in?”
The housekeeper glanced at the two big Dobermans, who had become Amanda’s near-constant companions since she’d arrived and now sat on the other side of the lounge with an air of waiting interestedly to find out what she was going to do next.
“They might well go in today,” Maggie told Amanda. “It isn’t their normal habit, but they seem reluctant to get too far away from you. They sleep at your door now, don’t they?”
Amanda looked down at her canine chums with faint vexation. “they’d sleep in my bedroom if I’d let them, probably on the bed. But I don’t think that’s what Jesse had in mind when he got them.”
“No, they’re supposed to run loose in the house at night.”
“So I figured.”
“Not that Jesse would say anything if you did let them into your room.”
Amanda smiled. “I don’t know about that. He’s exasperated with me; I can’t seem to master his beloved chess.”
“Don’t feel bad about that. Walker’s the only one around here who can give him a decent game, even though he made all of us learn to play years ago. I’m too predictable, he says. Sully is too reckless, Reece too cautious—and my poor Kate has an unfortunate tendency to simply play badly.”
Poor Kate indeed. Amanda hadn’t been here twenty-four hours before she’d realized that Jesse viewed his daughter with an indifference that seemed to her more dreadful than hate, and that Kate, tragically, knew it as well as the rest of them did.
“Well,” Amanda said, “at least I can play bridge and poker, so I’m not completely hopeless.”
“If you could play the piano,” Maggie said, “you’d be perfect.”
Amanda untied the belt of her terry-cloth robe and shrugged out of it, dropping it on the lounge. She stepped out of her thongs, responding casually, “That’s something Mother never taught me, I’m afraid.”
She wore a simple black two-piece swimsuit that was fairly modest by current standards but nevertheless left most of her slender body bared, and as she looked down at herself Amanda couldn’t help wishing, as she wished every summer, that tans were not only safe and nonaging but also possible for her. She’d tried the bottled no-sun tanning stuff, but it reacted oddly with her skin to produce a jaundiced hue that was hardly flattering, and a genuine tan was simply out of the question.
It didn’t help one bit for her to be fairly certain that her skin would look much better in the coming years because she hadn’t tanned; golden skin was just lovely and Amanda hated looking so fair and … fragile.
And she bruised easily.
Realizing suddenly that the silence from Maggie had gone on at least a couple of minutes too long, Amanda looked up at the older woman and knew instantly that she’d said something wrong. Oh, lord, what? Christine Daulton had played the piano, so—
Maggie smiled. “it’s probably just as well,” she said. “Perfection would be boring, I should think. Don’t stay out here too long on your first day sunning, Amanda.”
“No, I won’t.”
The housekeeper continued on her way across the patio, passing through the open doors of the sunroom and into the house.
After a minute or so, Amanda turned and went down the wide steps leading into the pool. The dogs, though momentarily undecided and obviously tempted, remained on the side and watched her intently rather than join her in the cool water, which was fine with Amanda. She went under briefly, then struck out with lazy ease.
The pool was certainly long enough for laps, and Amanda went back and forth methodically, working faster and harder once her muscles warmed up. She loved to swim and was good at it, so the exercise was a definite pleasure.
She cooled down the way she had warmed up, swimming a few lazy laps, then let herself drift, face turned up to the sun and eyes closed against the brightness. And brooded.
Damn. What did I say to upset Maggie? And just when things were going so well, too!
“Things” had gone exceptionally well the past three days. She’d arrived here on Tuesday, this was Saturday, and the interim had been much less tense than she’d dared to hope for. Jesse had been eager to spend time with her, and during their interludes together she had encouraged him to talk about this place, the Daulton family, and the long history of this area—which he knew well and related colorfully.
They had spent hours looking through photo albums filled with decades of the Daulton family
, and scrapbooks stuffed with newspaper and magazine clippings detailing their milestones and accomplishments, while Jesse had talked about the rich Daulton heritage.
Not only had Amanda learned more than she’d known about this place and its people, she had also managed to avoid more touchy subjects.
As for the others, the first night had revealed attitudes that had not changed very much in the days since. Maggie was friendly but neutral; Kate was rather withdrawn but certainly pleasant enough when they encountered each other—which was, either by chance or by design, rarely; Sully spent as much time as possible at the stables with his horses, appearing only for meals, and his attitude toward Amanda could best be described as truculent; and Reece was so puppy-dog friendly that Amanda distrusted him just on principle.
And then there was Walker. So far, he’d appeared every evening for supper, presumably by invitation although she had yet to hear one issued. He hadn’t stopped watching her and, she assumed, waiting for her to betray herself, but though she was reasonably sure she’d seen anger flickering in his eyes more than once, there hadn’t been any further hostilities between them.
She supposed that was something to be grateful for.
In any case, she was now familiar with the layout of Glory, was beginning to get a feel for the people here, and thought the time was probably right to begin looking for the answers she’d come here to find. After all, next week would see the beginning of June and her second week here—and the days were already hurrying, blowing past on increasingly hot Southern mountain breezes.
Forcing herself to abandon the peaceful cradle of the pool, Amanda drifted to the steps and got her feet under her. She came up the steps to the sun-warmed tile, pausing to sleek water from her hair, and reached for her towel. Her fingers had barely touched it when both dogs growled briefly and a low wolf whistle caused her to start in surprise. She jerked the towel up before turning quickly to face her admirer.
Though her swimsuit was relatively modest, she felt disconcertingly unclothed and vulnerable—even more so when she faced the man watching her a few feet away. She had thought all the gardeners and grounds-keepers had finished in back and were working on Glory’s front yard, but it seemed she had been wrong about that.
But then she realized that this man was no gardener. He was about forty, lean and quite handsome, and though casually dressed in jeans and a short-sleeved blue denim shirt, he also wore riding boots. One of the trainers or riders, then?
“You,” he said in a low, husky voice, “must be Amanda.”
She felt heat rise in her face, and it had nothing to do with the warm morning sunshine. His blue eyes had brushed aside the towel and removed her suit, stripping her with a single sweeping glance, and his voice expressed lustful appreciation so obviously he might just as well have invited her to his bed with words of one syllable and a leering pat on her behind. Amanda had never before in her life encountered such a blatantly sexual man, and she was dismayed to realize that even as her mind and emotions recoiled from him, her body reacted as if to some primitive carnal signal it was programmed to obey.
“Yes, I’m Amanda.” She dropped the towel for a naked moment and shrugged into her terry-cloth robe, wishing it was longer and covered more territory. “And you are?”
“Victor. Victor Moore.” His voice was still husky, suggestive. “I manage the breeding program here at Glory.”
He meant, she realized, the horse breeding program. Or maybe not. “I see.” she’d gotten her physical reaction to him under control with, happily, little effort; it had been an instant, instinctive thing, she thought, somewhat like the gut reaction to a snake or a spider.
“I came up here to talk to Jesse,” he said as if she’d asked, walking along the ribbon of tile toward her. “I’ve been getting ready to go out of state on a buying trip; that’s why I haven’t been around to salute the return of the prodigal granddaughter. If you were wondering.”
Amanda occupied herself in sitting on the lounge and digging into her tote bag for sunglasses. “I suppose I thought Sully bought the horses” she said, more for something to say than out of any real interest.
“The show horses, he does. And he’s responsible for the training program, of course. But I’m in charge of breeding stock. Jesse likes to … spread authority around, if you know what I mean.”
She did know. It had already occurred to her that Jesse Daulton made sure nobody except he had much power here at Glory. Doubtless Sully could have managed every aspect of the Daulton stables, and doubtless Reece was more capable than his junior vice presidency of Daulton Industries indicated, but Jesse was clearly reluctant to grant either of his grandsons the authority to substantially affect the family’s fortunes. Not, at least, while he was still aboveground.
“I must say, you’re a fine addition to the family,” Victor observed, sitting down in a chair very near her lounge and smiling at her.
The dogs, after those first rumbling growls, viewed him fixedly but seemingly without malice.
“you’re too kind.” Amanda was glad of the shield of her sunglasses, which helped to keep her expression neutral. Maybe the dogs reserved judgment, but her mind was made up. Victor had a tattoo on his left forearm—of a stallion mounting a mare. Artistically speaking, it was impressively detailed. It was also disturbingly crude.
Clearly unaware of—or unwilling to accept—irony, Victor merely nodded. “Definitely. And it’s nice to see a petite Daulton woman, for a change.”
Amanda wondered if he was convinced she was really who she claimed to be, or if he simply considered it politic to accept Jesse’s decree on that point. But she was less interested in that than in what had sounded like a verbal slap at Kate.
“I don’t know why anyone would prefer short over tall,” she said dryly. “At least, not when tall looks like Kate.”
Victor smiled and, very gently, said, “Different strokes for different folks—and I like my ladies delicate.”
So much for my fishing expedition. Victor, she thought, would nibble at bait dangled before him and would even dangle some of his own, but it seemed to her that he was too smart to sabotage his position here by openly insulting one of the Daultons, whatever his opinion of them might be. Amanda didn’t know why she was so sure of that, but accepted instincts that had more than once proven themselves reliable.
She was also reasonably sure that while Victor clearly relished suggestive remarks and no doubt enjoyed an active sex life, he would probably be cautious about going beyond words with her, since that too could be a quick way of derailing his career. So his sensual way of speaking and the deliberate leer in his stare didn’t disturb her as much as they might otherwise have done. In fact, she was able to smoothly change the subject without a blink and without responding to his declaration of his preferences.
There was, after all, no time like the present to start looking for her answers.
“Have you been here long?”
“More than twenty years. I started out working for Jesse as a stablehand and exercise boy while I was still in high school. Don’t you remember me, Amanda? I remember you. You were a skinny little thing with tangled hair and skinned knees, and you always seemed to be missing a tooth. You spent most of your time here underfoot down at the barns, and if I wanted to run you off, I just called you Mandy. You hated that.”
“I still do.” She spoke absently, but he had her full attention now. “Were you here that summer? That night?”
“You don’t remember?”
She shook her head. “Nothing specific, just bits and pieces. Were you here?”
“I was here.” He shook his head a bit and frowned, then said suddenly, “You remember Matt, of course.”
“Matt?”
“Matt Darnell. At the time, he was the senior trainer.”
It was Amanda’s turn to frown, though she hoped the sunglasses hid the depth of her puzzlement. “I guess kids don’t pay too much attention to the adults around them,” she offered.
“Now, I find that definitely odd.” His smile was different now, almost mocking. “Because you should remember him, you know. If you’re really Amanda Daulton, that is.”
She kept her body relaxed with an effort, even though tension was seeping into every muscle. “Oh? Tell me, Victor, do you remember every person in your life when you were nine years old? Even the people you hardly knew?”
“No. But I think I’d remember a step daddy. Or didn’t Christine make an honest man of him after Brian was killed?”
The sunlight shimmering off the pool seemed to dance before Amanda’s shaded eyes, so sharp and bright it made her dizzy. She heard her voice, steady beyond belief, and it seemed to come from someplace far, far away. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the affair your mother was having with Matt Darnell, Amanda. The affair that must have continued after she left here—because he left with her.”
The light was so bright. It hurt her eyes. It hurt her head and made thinking so difficult. “you’re wrong,” she heard herself say. “She—we left alone that night. Just the two of us.”
“Sure you did. And Matt packing all his things and leaving that same night was a coincidence. Look, I know Matt was in love with Christine, because it was painfully obvious and because more than once I heard him begging her to run away with him. And I know they were screwing because they did it down at the barns. Hell, I’d seen them at it not two days before, in a tack room on top of a pile of horse blankets. And that wasn’t the first time, believe me. They’d been going at it for weeks.”
The man with the raw image of mating horses on his arm was letting his inherent crudeness show plainly; it was obvious to Amanda even in her confusion that he enjoyed painting that stark image of adultery for her.
“If he didn’t leave with her,” Victor said, “then he sure as hell followed her.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said.