Chapter Five
Small clouds dotted a blue sky. Warm spring sunshine spread liquid gold over fields washed clean of winter’s grime. The view was a pastoral scene of rolling hills and thick wooded forests. Though pockets of snow still clung stubbornly in shadowed areas and at the base of trees, a fine lacy veil of pale green buds adorned the trees, proclaiming the advent of spring.
Ivy sat in a clump of new grass. Clad in the ever-present jeans and a shirt tied at her midriff, she studied the landscape, then bent over the tablet, sketching.
The sun was warm on her back. As she worked, her hair fell across one shoulder and spilled over her breast. Lifting her head, she studied the scene, then traced quick patterns on the paper.
How could she have imagined someone on the balcony last night? Why had she allowed her imagination to run wild? Threatening letters. Blackmail. Here? She allowed her gaze to travel over the gently rolling landscape. This was hardly a setting that spoke of dark, mysterious deeds.
It was that childhood curse. Clouds became castles. Molehills became mountains. Shadows became enemies.
Flipping the page, Ivy immersed herself in her work. That was the only cure for it. Once she lost herself in her art, she could blot out all thought.
Caine stood in the shadow of a gnarled oak and watched the slender figure below him. Sitting cross-legged on the side of the hill, she looked like a child with a coloring book. The breeze caught little wisps of hair, lifting them from her neck. The sun sought out all the colors of her hair, from lush ermine to rich inky black.
Shaking a cigarette from the pack, he held a lighter to the tip, then inhaled deeply. Through narrowed eyes he blew out a stream of smoke and leaned a hip against the trunk of the tree.
Not a child; a woman. Tomboy and temptress. She was the most surprising woman he’d ever met. She didn’t even seem aware of her beauty. That was part of her charm.
He watched as her hands moved deftly, sketching a stand of evergreens on a distant hill. She was so immersed in her work, she was unaware of his presence. Now he could take his time and watch her without her knowledge.
He studied the pale skin exposed at her midriff. It was the sort of skin that wouldn’t darken even in the sun. There was a translucent quality to it, revealing the fine blue veins just below the surface. He longed to touch it.
She shifted her position, stretching out long legs and leaning on one elbow as she continued to sketch. The movement sent her hair drifting softy about her face in a thick, lush cloud. What he wouldn’t give to see that hair rippling against the cool, white pillow on his bed. The thought startled him. A slow smile softened his harsh features. Yes, to touch her pale skin, to watch her eyes darken and grow heavy-lidded at his touch. To feel again the excitement, the hard, driving need that he had experienced when he had taken her in his arms.
At the call of a bird, she looked up and watched its slow, circling flight. Turning, she caught sight of Caine behind her.
“You startled me. How long have you been here?”
He stubbed out the cigarette and walked closer. “Just a few minutes.” Glancing down at the sketch on her tablet, he added, “Can’t keep away from it, I see.”
He saw the smile touch her eyes. “No. What about you? Do you find yourself always studying the architecture in every town you visit?”
“Of course. It’s as much a part of me as eating and sleeping.”
Her eyes softened. “Yes. You would understand.” She chuckled. “So few people really do, you know. They don’t realize that we’re constantly recording everything for use later. I study the way the horizon looks early in the morning, with little ribbons of color just beginning to light the dawn. I memorize the way a mountain peak rises out of the hills, reaching majestically to the sky. Do you do that with buildings?”
He nodded. “I used to stand on this hill when I was a boy and love the way Aunt Trudy’s house blended in with the woods. The builder used only native materials. The stone, the wood, look as if they belong here.”
Excited at finding a kindred spirit in Caine, Ivy confided, “In New York, I close my eyes and can see so much of this place. But I’ve discovered that I didn’t recall the little things. Like that hill over there.” She pointed. “I’d forgotten how the trees grow in little clusters here and there, with large open spaces between.”
“For crops,” Caine said, dropping down beside her. “The farmers cleared much of the woods for planting crops. But they left enough of the trees to keep the hills from eroding.”
Her face changed expression at this new understanding. “I never thought about that before. Yes,” she said nodding. “It makes sense.”
“Anything else you’d like to know,” he offered, leaning back on his elbows, “just ask.”
Adopting his mock-serious attitude, she leaned back beside him. Their shoulders brushed, sending a tingling sensation along her spine. She glanced at Caine, then quickly looked away.
“I’ve always wanted to meet a walking encyclopedia. As a matter of fact, there are a few things I’d like to know.”
He turned and met the green gaze. “Such as?”
“Does Darren always turn to you when things go wrong in his life?”
Caine plucked a blade of grass and slid it between his teeth. Lost in thought, he was silent for long moments before responding.
“I’ve come to expect it. And I suppose he has, too. He was just a baby when we lost our parents. I felt responsible for him. I think I always will.”
“But isn’t that unhealthy? Doesn’t it encourage Darren to lean too heavily on you?”
Caine’s tone held the edge of sharpness. “He’s no burden.”
“I didn’t suggest that he was. But maybe one day Darren will resent the fact that he can’t take all the credit for his own success. Don’t you see, Caine? If you pick him up each time he stumbles, he won’t feel that he’s made it on his own.”
Caine grew thoughtful. “I never thought about it. I suppose you’re right. But as long as he asks for my help, I’ll be there to give it to him. There’s no way I could ever refuse Darren.”
Yes. She had seen the way he responded to his younger brother’s every need.
“How did you feel about changing your name to St. Martin when Aunt Tru adopted you and Darren?”
The question surprised him. Ivy could see the cloud of pain the memories evoked.
He thought a moment before answering. “It was harder for me. I was twelve. But I was so worried about what would happen to us without the adoption, I agreed immediately. Darren was only five. I knew that within a few years, he would completely forget his real name.” Caine glanced at the wispy leaves of a young sapling. “There were some twinges of guilt. I felt that I had somehow betrayed my father by giving up his name. But as I grew to love Gertrude, I realized how much it meant to her to have heirs. She often told us that before we came along, she had resigned herself to the fact that when she died, the St. Martin line would be ended. And with it, the St. Martin name.”
“I wonder why she never married.”
“She rarely talks about her youth. I gather, from little things she said, that she wasn’t close to her father. In fact, I think their relationship was very stormy. She’s had to be a strong, gutsy woman.”
“You love her a lot, don’t you?”
He nodded.
“Why would anyone want to hurt her?” The words tumbled out before she had time to think.
Immediately Caine’s smile faded. His features became stiff and tense. “Stay out of it, Ivy.”
“But I just can’t understand how someone could hurt an old woman.”
“Do you think the whole world is made up of good, generous souls?” Caine stood, towering over her. His gray eyes darkened with anger. “There’s evil in this world. Most of us are capable of it. It’s pervasive. It even finds its way into sleepy little towns, and secluded estates. There are a lot of selfish people out there who don’t give a damn about anyone but themsel
ves.”
She stood and clutched her sketch pad to her chest. “Why don’t you call the police?”
“Because there’s been no threat made, and no actual demand for money.”
“Are you worried about her safety?”
His face seemed impassive. “I’ll see to her safety.”
“Do you know how many people will be here tonight for the party?”
Caine shook his head. “I’ve asked Aunt Trudy for the guest list. There are too many people invited to keep an eye on everybody. But I intend to stick close to her.”
“What about the servants?”
Caine placed a hand beneath her elbow as they climbed the hill and followed a path back to the house. Instantly he felt the jolt. There was no cure for it. Each time he came near her, he wanted her.
He fought to keep his thoughts on other matters. “Most of them have worked for Aunt Trudy for years. She trusts them.”
“And you?”
“I don’t trust anyone.”
“Even me?”
He didn’t respond.
She looked away. “Have there been other threats?”
Caine paused. Why did he want to share his thoughts with Ivy? He had always been an intensely private person. But something about this woman made him instinctively want to talk to her. Despite his suspicions, he could read truth in her eyes. And honor.
His voice deepened with emotion. “There was one other letter.”
“What did it say?”
He regarded her in silence, then turned and began walking beside her. “It mentioned a secret in her past that she has never revealed.”
Now it was Ivy’s turn to stop. “Aunt Tru? I don’t believe it.”
“She’s lived a long and full life, Ivy. In almost everyone’s life there are things they would rather not have revealed. She’s only human, after all. But that doesn’t give anyone the right to dredge up the past. If there’s something that she’s ashamed of, it’s her business. She deserves her privacy.”
“But you think there’s some connection to whatever was taken from my parents’ safe, don’t you?”
He stared down at her. “It could be.”
As they rounded a corner of the house, Ivy saw the low-slung, red sports car in the driveway. Caine saw her stiffen.
At the door, Chester announced, “Miss Ivy. Your mother is here. I’ve given her a room in the south wing. She’s waiting for you upstairs in the sitting room with Miss St. Martin.”
She forced a stiff smile. “Thanks, Chester.”
Caine trailed behind as she walked slowly up the stairs. He remembered the way she had bounded up these very stairs when she arrived, all breathless and hopeful.
In the doorway of the sitting room, he saw her take a deep breath and square her shoulders.
“Hello, Mother.”
Diana Murdock turned at the sound of her daughter’s distinct, low voice.
“I see some things never change.” She stared pointedly at the sketchbook in Ivy’s hand. Her gaze skimmed the figure in faded jeans, then paused a moment at the blouse tied at her midriff. “Gertrude has been trying to convince me that you’re earning some respect in your little art world. I’ll believe it when I see it. Couldn’t you at least dress the part of a successful woman? And that hair. Ivy, I think it’s time to dispense with the Alice-in-Wonderland look for something a bit more sophisticated.”
To Gertrude, Diana added, “Lord knows I’ve tried. I’ve offered to take her shopping and to my hairdresser. But Ivy has always had a rebellious streak in her nature.”
Ignoring the taunt, Ivy brushed her lips across the cool cheek. “How nice that you could make it for Aunt Tru’s birthday party. Doesn’t she look well?”
Watching her, Caine wasn’t fooled by Ivy’s cool demeanor. Her churning emotions were evident in her eyes.
“Yes. Did I forget to mention it, Gertrude? You’re looking very well.”
Ignoring the tepid compliment, the old woman lifted a hand. “Diana, you remember my nephew, Caine, don’t you?”
Dark eyes appraised him, noting the faded denims and nondescript sweater. If it hadn’t been for his rugged handsomeness and cool, gray eyes, she would have dismissed him. But it was impossible to easily dismiss a man like Caine. There was about him an aura of quiet strength, and something even more compelling—power.
She smiled and extended a beautifully manicured hand to him. “Hello, Caine. It’s been years.”
“Diana.”
Diana Murdock was small, standing barely five feet three inches. Her figure was as trim as a schoolgirl’s. She wore her hair short and very blond. Her suit was a pale orchid knit. Her lipstick, eye shadow and nail polish were a perfectly matched shade of orchid.
Her passion had always been clothes. Although her husband had left her a sizable insurance fund, she was forced to live a modest existence. Her New York apartment was small, her life-style simple. But her clothes, like the woman and her tastes, were elegant.
“Do you live here with your aunt?” she asked Caine.
“No.”
When he volunteered nothing further, Gertrude added, “Caine lives in New York City, when he isn’t flying off around the country. But I’ve persuaded him to renovate your old cottage, so he can spend an occasional weekend here.”
“I don’t understand why you’d want to sink any money into that little place.” Diana’s lips pursed.
“I spent some time there this morning. I thought it was charming.” Caine winked at Ivy as he crossed the room to sit beside his aunt.
“Remind me to ask you sometime for your definition of charming.” Diana sniffed.
Caine glanced at his aunt. “By the way, Trudy, I thought you kept the cottage locked.”
“I do. Why?”
“The door was unlocked this morning. I didn’t need the key you gave me.”
“I don’t understand. I’ve ordered Chester to check the buildings on the estate every week. I’m sure no one has visited the cottage since...” She looked up. “That reminds me, Diana. Did you find whatever it was you were looking for in the cottage?”
“Yes.” Diana picked up the cup of tea at her elbow, avoiding Gertrude’s eyes.
“What were you looking for, Mother?”
“Some books of your father’s. I drove up a few weeks ago and asked Gertrude’s permission to go through the attic for whatever we had left behind.”
Ivy felt a tightening around her heart.
“Will you two have tea, or would you rather join me in something stronger?”
“Nothing for me,” Ivy said, standing quickly and hurrying to the door. “I think I’d like to bathe and rest before the party.”
“Remember. Cocktails in the music room at six.”
“I’ll remember.” Ivy’s gaze shifted from her mother to Caine. He had to know what she was thinking. He was too sharp to have missed what her mother said.
“And Ivy,” her mother said coldly, “wear something appropriate. I don’t want to be embarrassed at the gathering this evening.”
“You needn’t worry, Mother. The last thing I want to do is embarrass you.”
She turned away, missing the scowl that darkened Caine’s face. Even the usually placid Gertrude frowned at the tension she could feel between mother and daughter.
“If you’ll excuse me, I have some things to take care of.” Caine stood and followed Ivy from the room, leaving his aunt and Diana alone to fill the uncomfortable silence.
As she climbed the stairs, Caine caught Ivy by the arm.
He felt her stiffen. “Let me go, Caine.”
“I saw how you reacted. Are you suggesting you suspect your own mother now?”
A tremor shuddered through her slender frame. “Don’t you?”
He could sense her suffering. “The cottage has been vacant a long time. There was plenty of time for anyone to break in and search it. You saw how many footprints marred the entrance.”
Her voice lowered to a whisper. “
That cottage was completely empty when we left. My father kept no books in the attic. There were only old snapshots of him as a boy. My mother left them behind when she moved.”
“Maybe she decided she wanted them after all.”
“I doubt that.”
His mind raced. Trying to change the subject, he casually said, “Your mother seems awfully young.”
Ivy kept her back to him. “She was only eighteen when they were married. Dad was thirty-six.” In her compassion, Ivy began to defend her mother, as she had always defended her to others. “It must have been difficult for her, being a child and trying to raise one.” He heard the slight break in her voice. “As you can tell, I’ve never lived up to her expectations.”
Caine caught her by the shoulders and turned her to face him. “Is that a frown?” He ran a finger along the furrow that creased her brow.
“My father always called it an upside-down smile.”
“Then I’ll just turn you on your head to make you look happy.” Caine kept his hand on her arm, while he stared down into her upturned face. “You were very close to your father, weren’t you?”
He watched the frown disappear. “Yes. He was special. Maybe because he waited so long to marry and have a child. He always knew how to make me laugh. When I grew taller than my mother, taller than any of my classmates and felt awkward and ugly, my father always made me feel beautiful, even though I knew he was only trying to lift my spirits.”
“My God, Ivy, you don’t know, do you?” Caine traced a finger along her cheek.
He saw the puzzled look in her eyes. “Know what?”
He bent and brushed his lips across her forehead. “Your father wasn’t just trying to make you feel better about yourself. You really are beautiful. Believe me. All the men at the party tonight will have a special treat just watching you.”
She turned away, feeling the heat stain her cheeks. “Don’t tease, Caine.”
She was pulled roughly into his arms. His voice was gruff. “I’ve always been attracted to beautiful things. Don’t you understand that when I look at you I see a beautiful, desirable woman?”
She felt her pulse leap. Staring into his eyes, she saw herself reflected there. She ran her tongue over her lips, and saw his gaze focus on her mouth.
“I have to get ready.”
His voice was a low growl. “Go ahead and run away, Ivy. There’ll be another time.” As she started to pull away, he murmured against her ear, “You can count on it.”