She turned around, unable to face the very questions she had never been able to answer honestly for herself. “I was tired, Hank, tired of fighting—of the anger. I felt we had both suffered enough.”
“Truly, querida?” His voice was closer.
She swung around. His nearness made her weak, made her remember things best forgotten.
“I’ve answered your question,” she said as coolly as she could. “You can go back to Mexico now and leave me alone.”
His eyes caressed her face, then moved to her belly. “No. I will stay awhile, at least until the little one is born.”
Samantha’s expression turned stony. “You’re not welcome here.”
“Ah, but your brother has made me welcome.” Hank grinned. “He is more generous than you.”
“Only because he knows nothing about our real relationship,” she said hotly, her temper at the fore. “You’re my husband in name only. If you try changing that—”
“Stop it, Sam. Why are you fighting now? You say you are tired of fighting, yet you bare your claws the moment you see me.”
She couldn’t meet his probing gaze. “Because of why you came here.”
“But I have told you that was not why I came,” he reminded her. “I wanted answers. However, I am not so sure that I have them all.”
“Of course you do.”
“Then why, if we have both suffered enough, do you make this meeting so difficult?”
Samantha was near tears. He was right, of course. She was being unreasonable and she didn’t even know why. Was it her condition that made her so defensive? Oh, she hadn’t wanted him to see her this way!
“There shouldn’t have been another meeting, Hank,” she said, trying to sound calm. “I never expected to see you again. I came to England so I wouldn’t have to.”
Hank looked away. His voice was but a whisper as he asked, “You still hate me that much?”
Samantha was startled. Did she? She had thought about him so often these last months. But, oddly enough, never with hate.
“I…I’m not sure what I feel anymore. I just can’t be with you now, when I’m…when I look…oh, just go away, Hank.”
Samantha looked away, but he turned her face back to meet his eyes. “What is it, Sam?” he asked softly. “Are you embarrassed for me to see you like this?”
“Certainly not!”
He grinned. “You lie, querida. You are embarrassed. But there is no reason. Do you not know how beautiful you are?”
Samantha tensed. “Will—you—get—out!”
“Ah, you are as stubborn as ever, and as maddening.” He sighed. “I will go, Sam. I leave this house, as well, since my presence so upsets you and that is no good at this time. I will leave an address with your brother, in case you need me. But before I go, I will do what I wanted to do from the moment I saw you tonight.”
Before she understood, Hank scooped her gently into his arms and kissed her. His lips were like wine, a taste to be savored, so long denied. The power he always had over her when she was in his embrace was there, the same as ever. She was oblivious to everything but his kiss, the magic of it, the wonder of it.
After a long while, Hank broke away with a sigh. The look he gave her was full of longing. Yet, true to his word, he turned and left.
Samantha stared in amazement at the closed door. He could still leave her breathless and trembling. Why? Why only with him?
Chapter 42
THE sweat was dripping from her. “Is the doctor coming?” Samantha gasped, trying in vain to control the increasing pain, unable to stop its rise.
“Sí, sí, he is on his way,” Froilana assured her as she added more wood to the already blazing fire.
The labor pains had started that afternoon. At first, Samantha had thought nothing of them. There had been so many little discomforts this last month. The dull ache seemed unimportant. But Froilana had noticed the frowns crossing her face. Sure enough, the time was at hand.
Lying in her bed, Samantha wanted to cry or curse. She had never dreamed it would be so bad. She had been told it would be painful but worth every minute of the pain. Ha! Who had told her such nonsense? Lana? What did Lana know? She had never been through this. This was unbelievable. She was going to make it her mission in life to warn other women not to have babies.
“Are you trying to roast me with that fire!” Samantha shouted.
“Cálmese, Sam.”
“I’d like to see you be calm in my place,” Samantha retorted.
“You want them to hear you downstairs?”
“Who?”
“Your hermano and—”
Samantha moaned. As soon as the pain subsided, she looked sharply at her friend. “And?”
“Did I say and? Cielos, what am I thinking of?” Froilana replied evasively.
Samantha let it go, too exhausted to care who else was downstairs. Teresa probably. She had come often since that night nearly two months before when Hank had suddenly come back into her life.
She had never asked Sheldon about the address Hank was supposed to have given him. Nor did Sheldon mention it, or anything else about Hank’s visit. She imagined he just wanted to forget that night.
Well, here she was, about to have Hank’s child. It wasn’t fair for revenge to be carried so far. Samantha bit her lip as the pain came again.
“When does this end, Lana?” she asked in despair. “I really can’t take much more.”
“You are fighting the pain,” Froilana scolded gently. “You must relax.”
“Oh, certainly. That’s fine advice—when you’re not the one suffering. The doctor isn’t even here yet. He’s going to be too late.”
“You worry over nothing,” Froilana admonished. “There is plenty of time. The doctor will be here long before the baby comes.”
“Oh, God.” Samantha groaned. “That’s the last thing I needed to hear. Plenty of time! I won’t last plenty of time. There’s no way I can last. I’m going to die!”
“You only make this more difficult for yourself, Sam. Do not resist the pain. This is your first child. Naturally, this one will give you the most pain. You will forget it though, and the next one will come easier.”
“The next one! Have another child? Never!”
Samantha collapsed back onto her pillows. She didn’t know which was worse, what she was feeling now or what she had felt when she first went to stay at her father’s Texas ranch. The first thing she had found was her wedding clothes, laid out over the bed in her new room. What she had felt that day, such terrible emptiness, was the beginning of feelings to come.
Oh, the vaqueros and their families had all come, bringing with them everything from the Mexican ranch. The place had been fixed up; there were still open plains to ride on, mountains in the distance. It was much the same as her old home, but still she hated it because of that one night. The barn was a constant reminder of that night. She was troubled, miserable, plagued by memories. She wasn’t sure what she wanted out of life. Her old amusements were no longer satisfying at all, and the future looked grim. She was miserable without knowing why.
But when Samantha had realized she was pregnant, she came to life, hating Hank all over again. He had wished a child on her, and he had gotten his wish. She was furious. Yet somehow she was relieved, too. It gave her an excuse to leave the place that was driving her crazy with memories. And she could leave the country, too, so that Hank would never know about the baby.
She had thought she would feel better once she was gone, but she hadn’t. She began to think of the child and raising it alone and was miserable all over again. What she began to feel for the child helped a little, though. And so had Sheldon, wondering about him, trying to understand the anger he aroused in her. Then, Hank had arrived.
The pain rose unbearably, and Samantha screamed just as the doctor entered the room. She didn’t care anymore that the doctor had come. It was Hank who ought to be there. He was responsible. But, no, she didn’t want him here,
to know how much she was suffering. No, she didn’t.
Sheldon had promised to send for him when Samantha’s time was near, and Hank was more than delighted when the message came. All the way across London, he was ecstatic. Lorenzo came along, but Hank didn’t hear a word he was saying. Samantha was giving birth to his child. Her child. Their child.
Moments after he arrived, he heard the screams from upstairs, and he was sick. With a drink in his hand, he sat in a far corner of the drawing room, as far as possible from the closed door. Shaking the ice in his glass helped muffle some of the sounds from upstairs, but every once in a while all the color would drain from his face. He sat there in a daze on his third drink, agonizing over what was happening upstairs.
“You shouldn’t be here, Hank,” Sheldon remarked as another scream died away, leaving the room eerily silent. “Nor should I, for that matter.” He was the only one pacing the room, and he was doing that quite briskly. “Good heavens, man, this is no place for men!”
Hank focused on Sheldon. It was several seconds before he spoke. “You will not throw me out?”
“Of course not.”
“Then I will stay.”
“My club is near here. Why don’t we…?” Sheldon offered.
“No.”
Lorenzo shook his head, watching the two other men. “He is right, Hank. This is no place for you now. Leave for a while.”
“My place is near her,” Hank replied.
“She does not know you are here,” Lorenzo said pointedly. “You cannot help her.”
“Leave me be, Lorenzo. This is where I want—” The loudest scream yet tore down the stairs and Hank’s glass slipped from his hands. “Christ! She is dying. I have killed her.”
“Nonsense,” Lorenzo chided.
Hank turned on him. “Can you swear to me she will not die? Can you?”
“Oh, Lord,” Sheldon broke in. “I can’t take any more of this. It’s highly improper and…and it’s driving me crazy. Stay if you must. I’m leaving.”
He grabbed his coat and strode to the door. But as he reached the hallway, a baby’s cry joined with Froilana’s delighted exclamation. “It’s a boy!”
Sheldon came back to the drawing room, the slightest of grins on his lips. “I have a nephew.”
But Hank was already out of his chair. He passed Sheldon, ran up the stairs, and opened the door to Samantha’s bedroom.
Steam was thick from the boiling water, and the heat was terrible. Froilana tried to protest Hank’s presence, but the doctor nodded his approval and she went back to cleaning the baby.
“You are the husband?”
Hank didn’t hear the question as he stared down at the large bed, unable even to see Samantha’s face. “Is she all right?”
“Do you not wish to see el niño?” Froilana asked him proudly.
But Hank ignored her, too. “Is she all right?” he repeated forcefully.
“Why don’t you ask me?” Samantha said softly.
Hank approached the bed. Samantha could barely keep her eyes open, but she managed to look hard at him before she closed them. He had never seen her so worn out.
“Sam?”
“What are you doing here?” Her voice was hoarse.
“I made your brother promise to send for me,” Hank explained quickly. “And, Sam, you cannot deny my right to be here.”
“Yes I can. You didn’t want me, remember? It didn’t matter to you if I got a divorce. So what is your interest here?”
Hank stiffened and answered defensively, “The child, of course.”
“Of course,” she replied.
“I am not up to fighting with you, Sam,” he sighed. “Christ, I thought you were dying up here!”
“Absurd,” she scoffed tiredly. “It was unpleasant, but all women who have children go through it. I don’t…even…remember…”
Her eyes closed again, and her voice trailed off. Hank just stood there and stared at her, unwilling to move from her side. Samantha Blackstone Kingsley Chavez, his wife, the mother of his son, the woman who drove him crazy with wanting her. This woman always amazed him, with her pride, her daring, her temper, her passion. If only she had truly hated him, hated him consistently, he might not be confused. But in passion she had showed him what it could be like for them. It would have been better not to know. Then he would never have accepted that he loved her. For even when he hated her, he loved her.
Chapter 43
THE coach and four moved through the park at a sedate pace. A cool night breeze with the scent of spring blew in through the curtained windows, causing the coach lamp to flicker and distort the features of the two people inside.
“Do you think Sheldon was angry that I asked you to escort me home, Jean?” Teresa asked, her voice tense.
The Frenchman shrugged. “Who knows, chérie? Who knows if that Englishman has ever been angry in his life? Truly, I do not think he feels very much. I would never leave my fiancée in the care of another man so often, friend or not.”
“Do not underestimate him!” Teresa cut in sharply. “Men who are cold like that can erupt into great violence.”
“Then you should have left well enough alone and let him take you home.”
“I could not bear to ride with that woman again. He takes her everywhere with us now. If I had to listen to one more of her catty remarks, I would scream. You have not heard some of the things she has said to me. When she got her figure back, a sharp tongue came with it. I fear she knows about us, caro.”
“Nonsense, ma chère,” Jean chided. “Samantha can only guess. And you should not mind her. If she is bitchy, it is no doubt because of her husband. They cannot be in the same room without sparks flying, and now Chavez has moved into the Blackstone townhouse because of his son. Samantha hates it but can do nothing about it. Sheldon has taken his side in that marital war.”
“I do not care about that. Her insinuations make me nervous. So far she makes her remarks in Spanish, so Sheldon does not understand. But…”
“She takes her frustration out on you, Teresa, that is all,” Jean soothed.
“But why must I suffer her?” Teresa snapped. “I hate that woman!”
“Come now.”
“You dare to take that condescending tone with me?” She cut him off. “Oh, I hate you when you treat me like a child!”
“What is all this fuss?” Jean asked, used to her fits of temper. “You will be married soon, and we will have no more worries.”
“But will I be married, Jean?” she demanded. “Did you find this other will?”
“No,” he admitted, his voice grave. “But I’m afraid I did find out what we wanted to know. My senior partner handled the old man’s estate.”
“Afraid?”
“It’s what I feared, Teresa.” he said solemnly. “If Sheldon dies without issue, everything will go to Samantha’s child.”
“Even if I am his wife?”
“Yes. The old man made sure the estate would go to the blooded heir.”
“Curse that woman and her child!” Teresa hissed. “She is ruining all of my plans. I have worked too long on this, Jean. I cannot afford to give up on Sheldon and find another man. I have gone through the last of my family jewels. I have no money left to catch the right husband with.”
“Calm yourself, chérie. We have not lost yet.”
Teresa glared at him. “Our plan was to kill Sheldon after a few months of marriage. Now you say I will have nothing if he dies!”
“Exactly. But it was better to learn this now, before we got rid of Sheldon. The terms of the will are indefinite. Whether Samantha had the child now or five…ten years from now, the estate would still go to that firstborn. If we killed Sheldon first, we will have lost everything. There will be no way to recover the estate once it goes to the boy.”
Teresa’s eyes lit up. “You said first, querido. Have you solved our problem?”
“There is only one solution. Samantha and the boy must die first. His half o
f the estate will not be turned over until he is a year old. If he does not reach one year, we will have it all once we get rid of Sheldon. For with Samantha gone, there will be no other Blackstone to claim the estate.”
“But she plans to return to America right after our wedding. How can we kill her in that country? She will have her father’s protection there. It is too risky.”
“We will take care of it before she leaves.”
“But the wedding is two weeks away.”
“The sooner the better, then. Your wedding to Sheldon might be postponed a few months because of the tragedy, but then our worries will be over and it will be back to the original plan.”
“How?”
He shrugged. “I haven’t given it much thought yet. Have you any ideas?”
“Suicide. After all, she is very temperamental—and estranged from her husband.”
“You mean she kills the baby and then herself?” Jean laughed drily at that. “No, no, chérie, suicide will never do. She adores that boy. No one would ever believe she killed him. Herself, maybe, but not the boy.”
“The husband could be blamed, then. It is no secret that she plans to return to her father, and Chavez is not welcome there.”
“Yes, but he would not kill the boy, either.”
“What do you suggest then?” Teresa asked petulantly. “The only time she is alone with the child is in the townhouse, and they must be killed together.”
“I agree. And since we can’t kill them there, we must get them away from the house together.”
“But that Mexican servant always goes with them when they go out.”
“I am not talking about just going out. We will get them out of the house somehow, perhaps when all others are sleeping. Yes, I have it now!” he said, excited as the idea came to him. “It will appear Samantha has run away with the child. She can leave a note to that effect. The reason will be the husband. She fears he will try to take the child from her, and so she must go where he will never find her—disappear.”
“But Sheldon must know they are dead. They must be declared dead.”