Tears of the Renegade (6 page)

She stopped there, not voicing the other suspicion that was clouding her mind. Even without really knowing him, she felt as if she knew enough about him to realize that he seldom made mistakes; he was simply too smart, too cunning. But he had either made a mistake in not completely investigating the
ownership of the ridges, or he had known all along that she was the owner, and hoped to use his threat against Imogene and Preston as a means of forcing her to sign the leases. It was common knowledge in the area how close she was to her in-laws; even an outsider could have discovered that. Cord might not have the means of threatening her personally, but he would see right away that she was vulnerable through her regard for her husband's family. And even worse than that, she had another suspicion: Was he bent on seducing her for some murky plan of revenge, or as a less than honorable means of securing the lease on the ridges? Either way, his attention to her was suddenly open to question, and she shrank from the thought.

He was still watching her with that unsettling stare. “Guilty as charged. I enjoyed every minute of making the slimy little bastard squirm.”

Shaken by the relish in his tone, she winced. “It was cruel and unnecessary.”

“Cruel, maybe,” he drawled. “But it was damned necessary!”

“In what way? To feed your need for revenge?”

It had been a shot in the dark, but she saw immediately that it had been dead on target. The look he gave her was almost violent; then he turned and took the poker in his hand, bending down to rearrange the burning logs in the fireplace, expending his flare of anger on them. Straightening, he returned the poker to its place and stood with his head down, staring into the hypnotically dancing fire.

“I have my reasons,” he said harshly.

She waited, but the moments stretched out and she saw that he wasn't going to explain himself. He saw no need to justify himself to her; the time had long passed when he needed anyone's approval of his actions.

The question had to be asked, so she braced herself and
asked it. “What are you going to do about the money Preston owes you, now that you know he doesn't control the ridges?”

He gave her a hard, glinting look. “I haven't decided.”

Chilled by the speculation in his eyes, Susan resumed her seat, an indefinable sadness overwhelming her. Had she really expected him to trust her? He probably trusted no one, keeping his thoughts locked behind iron barricades.

It had to be due to a streak of hidden perversity inside her that, even though she'd rejected the idea of having an affair with him, now she was hurt because she thought he might have an ulterior motive for pursuing her. If she had any brains at all, she'd not only keep the mental distance between them, she'd widen it. He'd made a pass at her, but she couldn't attach any importance to it; he probably made passes at a lot of women. If his kisses were anything, they were a subtle means of revenge. She was a Blackstone by name, and automatically included in his target area. Besmirching the reputation of Vance Blackstone's widow would be a scheme likely to appeal to Cord, if he wanted the Blackstones to squirm.

Because she couldn't stand the horror of the thought, her tone was abrupt when she spoke again. “I can't give you an answer about the ridges. I won't say no, but I can't say yes, either. I'll have an independent geological survey made, as well as gather several opinions about the ecological damage to the area, before I can reach a decision. And the decision I make will be based on the results of the surveys, not on any blackmail you may try to use.”

“I don't remember asking you about the ridges,” he murmured, smiling coldly.

“That's why you're here, isn't it?”

“Is it?”

“Oh, please.” She waved her hand tiredly. “I don't feel up to playing word games. I know the ridges are what you're after.”

His eyes sharpened, and a certain tension invaded him, giving him a stillness that reminded her of an animal poised to attack. “I've never prostituted myself for an oil lease yet,” he drawled, yet anger lay beneath his lazy tone like a dark shadow.

Susan darted a glance up at him. “We both know I'm not your usual type.”

“Hell, no, you're not! I'll agree to that!” He glared at her, his lips compressed into a grim white line. “You sit there as cool as a cucumber and accuse me of something pretty low, but you never even raise your voice, do you? Tell me, lady, is there anything that gets a rise out of you? Do you have feelings, or are you just a china doll, useless but nice to look at?”

She almost recoiled in shock, feeling the force and heat of his anger. “Yes, I feel,” she whispered. “I don't want to be hurt. I don't want you to use me.”

Suddenly he crouched down until his eyes were on a level with hers, and he leaned forward, so close that she pressed herself back into the cushions to relieve the sensation of being swamped by him. “I don't think you feel anything at all,” he rasped. “Or rather, you're afraid of what feelings you do have. You want me, but you're too afraid of what people will say to reach out and take me, aren't you? You're too tied to the security of your network of leeches, all of you pretty, useless people who live off the work of others. You're pretty, sweetheart, but you're nothing but a bloodsucker.”

His words hit her like blows, but she lifted her chin proudly. “You don't know anything about me,” was all she said.

“I know enough to know that trying to get passion from you is a hopeless cause,” he returned caustically. “Look, I'll be in touch about the leases, but don't save any dances for me.”

She sat there for a long time after he left, wishing he would come back so she could spill out her fears and uncertainties to him, but knowing that it was for the best that he'd gone.
He was right; she did want him, and she was afraid that if he knew just how weak she was, he'd play on those weaknesses and use her in any way he wanted, even as a means of revenge. If nothing else, she couldn't let that happen.

How quickly he had destroyed the peace, the even tenor of her days! She spent another night lying awake, twisting under a mantle of unhappiness. When dawn finally came, revealing a low gray sky, she wanted to do nothing more than lie in bed all day as a refuge from the thoughts that whirled around in her tired mind. But with her usual determination she forced herself out of bed; she would maintain her regular schedule if it killed her! She wasn't going to let Cord Blackstone tear her life to pieces.

She went to the offices in Biloxi every day; Preston ran everything, but since Vance's death she had become more immersed in the daily details of running a corporation with a myriad of interests, and Preston had long ago gotten in the habit of talking everything over with her. He had the training, but she was quick and knowledgeable, and had good instincts about business. After Vance's death, taking over his office had been a means of keeping her sanity, but before long she'd found herself enjoying the work, enjoying the flood of information on which decisions were based.

She arrived early, but Preston was even earlier. Having seen his car in the parking lot, she went straight to his office, knocking softly on his door. Their mutual secretary hadn't arrived yet, and the building echoed with sounds not usually heard during the busy days.

He looked up at the interruption, and a welcoming smile eased the shadow of worry that had darkened his face. “Come on in. I've already put the coffee on.”

“I could do with an extra jolt of caffeine,” Susan sighed, heading straight for the coffeepot.

They sipped the hot brew in companionable silence for several minutes, then Susan put her cup down. “What are we going to do?”

He made no pretense of misunderstanding. “I went over the old books last night, trying to nail down exactly how much we owe him. It's a lot, Susan.” He rubbed his forehead wearily.

“You're going to try to replace the money, aren't you?”

He nodded. “What else can I do? The hell of it is, we don't have that much ready cash right now. We've invested heavily in research that won't pay off for another couple of years, but you know that as well as I do. I'm not going to touch anything that you have an interest in; Mother and I agreed on that last night. We're going to liquidate some of our personal assets—”

“Preston Blackstone!” she scolded gently. “Did you think I wouldn't be willing to help you?”

“Of course not, honey, but it wouldn't be fair to you. Mother and I did this, and we knew that we were taking a chance. We gambled that Cord wouldn't come back until we'd been able to replace the money, and we lost.” He shrugged, his blue eyes full of wry acceptance of his own mistake. “It didn't seem so wrong at the time. We didn't use the money for anything personal; every cent of it was invested back into the corporation, but I don't suppose that would make any difference in a court of law. I still forged his signature on some papers.”

“Will you be able to raise enough?” He might protest, but if they couldn't cover the amount they owed Cord, then she would insist on helping them. She didn't want to do anything to jeopardize the corporation, so she agreed that its assets shouldn't be touched, but Vance had left her a lot of personal assets that could easily be liquidated, including some highly valuable property. She also had the ridges, she realized with a sudden start. How badly did Cord want them? Badly enough
to take the land in exchange for not pressing charges against Imogene and Preston? Two could play his game!

“I have an idea,” she said slowly, not giving Preston time enough to answer her question. “I have something he wants; perhaps we could make a trade.”

Preston was a smart man, and he knew her well; he leaned back in his chair, his blue eyes narrowing as he stared at her and sorted out the options and details in his mind. He didn't waste time on unnecessary questions. “You're talking about the ridges. You know that even if you lease the ridges to him, he can still file charges, don't you? He might swear that he wouldn't, but I don't think his word of honor is worth much. Not only that, you'd be giving in to his blackmail.”

“Not quite,” she said, thinking her way through the situation. “I'll have to have those surveys made, and estimate the worth of an oil lease on the ridges, but if he accepts the leases as restitution for the amount you owe him, then he doesn't have a case any longer, does he?”

Preston looked thunderstruck. “My God, you're talking about letting him have the oil leases for free? Do you have any idea what a rich field could be worth?”

“Millions, I'd imagine, or he wouldn't be so determined to have it.”

“A lot more than what we owe him! He'd jump at the deal, but you'd be losing a fortune. No, there's no way I can let you do that.”

“There's no way you can stop me,” she reminded him, giving him a tender smile. She'd gladly give up a fortune to keep her family intact and safe. Preston had his faults, as did Imogene, but she knew that they'd never turn their backs on her, no matter what happened. They weren't easy people to know—the stiff-necked Blackstone pride and arrogance was present in abundance in both of them—but they also had a
loyalty that went all the way to the bone. When she married Vance Blackstone, she had been taken into the family and guaranteed its protection. Preston had been a lifesaver for her when Vance died, pushing his own grief for his brother aside to comfort her and protect her to the best of his ability. Even Imogene, whose proud head had never lowered even on the day of Vance's funeral, had helped Susan by showing her a gritty courage and determination that wouldn't falter.

Preston's frustration was evident in his eyes as he glared at her. “I don't like it when you use that soft, sweet tone of voice. That means you've dug in your heels and won't budge, doesn't it?”

A sound in the outer office alerted them to the arrival of their secretary, Beryl Murphy. Knowing that they both had a lot of paperwork to handle, Susan got to her feet and used that excuse to escape to her own office, even though she knew Preston wanted to try to talk her out of letting Cord have the ridges. Blue fire was in his gaze as he watched her leave the office, but Beryl was already approaching with the first of the day's crises, and he groaned in momentary surrender.

Susan had a stack of reports left on her desk from the Friday before, and she dutifully began reading them, but before long she'd lost the thread of meaning as her mind worried at every angle of the deal she'd be offering Cord.

She really needed to know the monetary value of the oil leases on the ridges before making a deal, but on the other hand, she didn't want to wait before approaching Cord about it. Though he could file charges immediately, she didn't think he would; he would wait, as much to worry everyone as to make up his mind. He probably had already made up his mind, she realized with a burst of panic. Should she wait, or should she tell him right away about the deal? Finally she decided to approach him immediately, before he
could take any legal action. If any formal charges were ever made, there would be no way of keeping them from becoming public knowledge, and that would hurt her in-laws enormously.

The realization that she would have to see him, that day if possible, sent a chill down her spine. Just the thought of being close to him again made her blood tumble madly through her veins, whether in dread or anticipation she couldn't say. The way he had kissed her the day before was still seared into her mind, and she couldn't get the taste of his mouth from her lips, or rub from her skin the lingering sensation of the soft brush of his moustache and beard. He was a dangerous animal, but he appealed to her on a primitive level that she had never before suspected existed within herself. She wanted him, and her body's longing made every meeting with him hazardous, because she wasn't certain of her mind's ability to retain control.