Chapter Seven
It was after two o’clock in the morning before the musicians packed up their instruments and the last guest said good-night. Chester and the maids scurried about, picking up the party debris.
Judge Tisdale, leaning heavily on his grandson’s arm, kissed Gertrude gently on each cheek. “Will you forgive me, Gertrude?”
“Forgive you? Whatever for?”
“For being old and foolish. For rambling so tonight. For bringing up the past.”
She caught his hand. “The past is just that.”
He met her gaze. “Is it? I wonder.” He seemed to force a cheerfulness he didn’t quite feel. “It was a wonderful party, my dear, We must do it again next year.”
She patted his cheek. “Sleep well, Jacob.”
“And you, Gertrude.”
His slow, measured footsteps and the tap of his cane could be heard on the stairs as David helped him to his room.
Darren kissed his aunt. “Eighty, Aunt Gertrude. When are you ever going to grow old? Watching you tonight, I believe you’ll live to be a hundred.” Still holding a drink, he sauntered off to bed.
Diana finished her wine, handed the glass to a maid, then took Gertrude’s hand. “A very nice party, Gertrude. Thank you for inviting me.”
“It was my pleasure, Diana. It occurred to me that you didn’t often get a chance to socialize while you and James lived here on the estate.”
“One hardly invites one’s gardener and his wife to social functions.” Diana’s clipped words caused Ivy to turn from the window.
“I suppose. But I never thought of your husband as simply the gardener. He was a fine man. I considered him a friend.” Gertrude turned away before she said more than she intended. “Caine, I think I need a good right hand.”
Immediately her nephew was at her side.
“Ivy, my dear.” Taking Caine’s arm, Gertrude crossed the room and grasped the young woman by the shoulders. Her features relaxed into a smile. “Every time I looked up, you were dancing with someone different.”
Ignoring Caine’s sudden scowl, Ivy smiled. “And what about you? You were as good as your word. You said you were going to dance until dawn at your party.” She pointed at the inky sky. “Not quite dawn. But close enough.”
Smiling radiantly, Gertrude gave the young woman a warm embrace. “Thank you again for the portrait. I shall treasure it.”
“Then you’ll forgive Chester for going through your album? He was so uncomfortable about doing that for me.”
“I would forgive anything tonight. Now come and walk upstairs with us.”
With Ivy on one side and Caine on the other, the old woman made her way slowly up the stairs. At Ivy’s room, they stopped.
“Good night, Aunt Tru. It was a lovely party. Good night, Caine.”
He nodded, then continued along the hallway, with Gertrude on his arm.
As Ivy closed the door to her room and crossed to the bed, she caught sight of her reflection in the dressing mirror. Seeing the emeralds, she fumbled with the clasp until it opened. For long moments she stared at the priceless necklace, loving the way light winked and reflected in the stones. A king’s ransom. She was holding a fortune in diamonds and emeralds in her hands.
Hurrying down the hall, she tapped on the open door of Gertrude’s bedroom, then rushed inside.
“I forgot to return the emeral...” Her voice died in her throat.
Gertrude was slumped in a chair, her face ashen, her eyes wide with fear. Beside her, Caine stood with his hands clenched at his sides. One hand was clutching a crumpled paper.
“Aunt Tru.” Ivy flew across the room and dropped on her knees at the old woman’s feet. “What’s happened?” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, the realization dawned. “Oh, no. Not another letter.”
Gertrude didn’t move.
Ivy stood. “Let me read it, Caine.”
His eyes were colder than she’d ever seen them. His face could have been carved from granite. He looked at her as if she weren’t even there.
“Please, Caine. I want to read it.”
“Stay out of this, Ivy.”
Her eyes pleaded with him. “I’m already in it. Don’t you see?” Her voice lowered to a whisper. “Trust me. Please.”
He stared at her outstretched hand, then slowly held out the crumpled paper.
Like the others, the words had been cut from newspapers and magazines and pasted on plain, white paper. She read quickly.
I know about all the lies. Yours was not the greatest deceit. Someone close to you robbed you of the thing dearest to your heart. He didn’t die. For one hundred thousand dollars, I will reveal the truth to only you, and keep your secret intact.
Still holding the letter, Ivy dropped on her knees and clutched Gertrude’s icy hands in hers. “Does this letter make sense to you, Aunt Tru?”
For the first time, the old woman’s voice sounded its age, faltering, tremulous. “Some of it.”
Ivy looked up at Caine. “This letter demands one hundred thousand dollars. I’d say that’s reason enough to call the police.”
“No.” Gertrude turned and clawed at Caine’s hand. “No police.”
“But why? Ivy’s right. This is no longer just idle threats. This is a blackmail letter. A fortune, or they reveal your secret.”
“Listen to me, Caine. This letter wasn’t mailed. It was shoved under my door. There’s no postmark on the envelope. That means someone who was here tonight sent it.”
“Aunt Trudy,” Caine said patiently, “you had over a hundred guests here tonight. The police can go through the guest list and determine how best to handle this.”
“No. It’s my secret. And my problem. I’ll deal with it.”
“No secret is worth that kind of money. Why not reveal it and be done with it? Then the blackmailer would have no reason to continue threatening you.”
“This letter writer knows something I don’t. Maybe that knowledge is worth it.”
“A hundred thousand?” Caine’s hands clenched at his sides. He resented his helplessness.
“Please, Caine. Let me think about this for a while. Tomorrow we’ll talk.”
“I’d like to keep this letter,” he said.
“No. I want to read it over. Maybe it will make more sense to me when I’m not so tired.” The old woman lifted herself from the chair and wrapped her arms around him. “Don’t be angry with me, Caine.”
He held her close. “I’m not angry, Aunt Trudy. I’m worried. This is not a simple matter.”
“No. But it isn’t life threatening either. What this person wants is my money, not my life.”
He remained silent.
“Now please go. Both of you. I need to be alone.”
Caine followed Ivy to the hall. He turned back to speak again to Gertrude. “Lock this door. And check your windows, too.”
“I will.”
“And keep the phone beside your bed.”
She nodded. As the door closed, Caine waited until he heard the click of the lock. Satisfied, he turned away.
Ivy studied his firm profile. “What will you do, Caine?”
Distracted, he ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know.” For the first time he noticed her pallor. “Go to bed, Ivy. There’s nothing you can do tonight.”
“I know I won’t be able to sleep.”
“Give it a try.” He turned away.
Outside his room, Caine turned and watched until Ivy opened her door, entered, then closed it after her. He did the same.
In her bedroom, Ivy paced the floor. Who would do a thing like this? Someone deranged? No. That wasn’t the answer. Aunt Tru said the letter made some sense to her. It had to be someone who knew a terrible thing about the old woman’s past and was willing to expose it. And that someone was desperate.
Thoughts and images whirled through Ivy’s mind. Distracted, she unbuttoned the sleeves of her silk gown, then slid it over her head and hung it in the closet. Kicking o
ff her shoes, she dropped them on the floor of the closet. Clad in only the silk teddy, she began the pacing once more.
Why had she suddenly become attractive to Darren tonight? He had practically ignored her until now. Was it because Emery had told him she was a success? Could it be that Darren was a snob, who wouldn’t waste his time with anyone unless she was wealthy or successful? Or—and the thought struck fear in her heart—was he so desperate for money that he would cultivate Ivy’s friendship for that reason alone? If that was the case, would he also be desperate enough to resort to blackmail?
Oh, God. She covered her mouth, to stifle the oath that escaped. First she suspected her own mother. Now Aunt Tru’s nephew and heir. What was happening to her?
What about Judge Tisdale? From the things he said tonight, he and Gertrude had known each other all their lives. There couldn’t have been too many secrets in her past that he wouldn’t know about. He seemed to genuinely care about her. Love. He had said he loved her, and she had rejected him. Would a spurned lover be driven to such desperate acts to even the score?
What of David Tisdale? As a lawyer, he had access to all the legal papers of Gertrude’s family. His grandfather controlled David’s career, his future, his very life. Would a young man trying to break free of such bonds resort to blackmail in order to win his independence?
A breeze ruffled Ivy’s hair. Startled, she turned toward the locked door to the balcony. The curtains billowed inward. She could make out a pair of men’s shoes standing just inside the door, behind the curtains.
Her eyes widened in terror. Her voice died in her throat. A hand pushed aside the fabric. Caine stepped toward her. He had changed from his formal attire to a pair of faded denims and a fisherman’s knit sweater.
She felt her body tremble with relief.
“You scared me half to death. Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”
“I didn’t want anyone to know I was here.”
“How did you get that door opened? I checked the lock myself when I came in.”
“I told you before. I’ve climbed these walls and broken into these rooms plenty of times when I lived here.”
He stared pointedly at the teddy, which barely covered her nakedness. Then his gaze swept her body from her bare toes to her thighs, to the merest bit of silk on her hips. He studied her narrow waist, small enough for a man’s hands to span. Then his gaze moved upward to her full breasts, clearly outlined beneath the pale silk.
“You’d better go.”
“Not yet.” His voice lowered. “I wanted you to know how happy I am about the birthday portrait.”
“Why should that please you?”
He stepped nearer, until he could inhale the delicate fragrance of her perfume. “Because I overheard you and Chester earlier. I thought the two of you might be guilty of sending those letters.”
She could feel the heat of his body. Defiantly, she lifted her head. “And now? Are you satisfied of my innocence?”
He reached a thumb and finger to the narrow spaghetti strap at her shoulder, feeling the smooth fabric against his rough skin. As his finger trailed the strap to the soft swell of her breast, he watched her eyes.
“Now I know that I was wrong to suspect you. You’re probably the one person here this weekend who could never hurt Aunt Trudy.”
She swallowed, forcing herself not to turn away from his dark gaze. “How can you be so sure?”
His finger dipped lower, to follow the deep V of the neckline.
“Because from the beginning I’ve seen a goodness, an integrity in your eyes that I’ve tried to deny. You’ve been telling the truth, Ivy. You’re probably the only one who has.”
Her mouth was dry. There was a dull ache at the back of her throat. She felt a terrible urge to cling to him and give herself up to the drugging need that was making her knees weak.
“Please go now, Caine.”
“No.” His eyes narrowed. He lifted his thumb and forefinger to her hair, allowing the strands to sift and fall. “Silk. Your hair is pure silk.” Removing the comb from her hair, he watched as wave after wave drifted about her face and shoulders.
Ivy was unable to move, unable to turn away. All she could do was stand and watch his eyes as his touch turned her bones to liquid.
With a finger he traced the fine arch of her eyebrow. His fingertip glided over the softest skin he had ever felt. It moved along the curve of her cheek, then made a detour to follow the circle of her ear.
Mesmerized, she stared into his gray eyes. How had she ever thought them to be as cold as steel? They were warm, glowing, burning with a passion that he still managed to hold at bay.
His finger dropped to her mouth, and she instinctively parted her lips. He traced the outline of her full lower lip, then dipped his finger inside her mouth. She gave a little sigh and felt a rush of heat.
He was making love to her with only the merest touch. He traced the ivory column of her throat, and pressed his finger to the little pulse beat. It leaped at his touch and proceeded to beat a wild tattoo.
Watching her eyes, he ran a finger beneath the strap of her teddy, then slid it over her shoulder. He saw her eyes widen a fraction. Lifting his other hand, he caught the second strap and slipped it down too. She needed only to move and the little piece of silk would glide down around her hips.
He caught her chin and lifted her face for his inspection. Then his palm glided around to cup the back of her head.
She blinked, then stared boldly into his eyes, seeing herself reflected there.
“Do you know how much I want you? How much I’ve wanted you since I first saw you?”
The hand at her shoulder was rough, pulling her firmly against him. His fingers caught at a tangle of hair. The kiss, when at last it came, held no tenderness. His mouth savaged hers, kissing her as she’d never before been kissed. His lips, his teeth, his tongue held her enthralled, until all she could think about was the wild, dark, mysterious taste of him.
He smelled faintly of tobacco and Aunt Tru’s favorite aged whiskey. Not even that potent drink could have the effect on her his kiss was having. She curled her hands into the front of his sweater, drawing him even closer.
Desire ripped through him, a raging flame, and he fought to bank the fire. He had thought of nothing but her all evening, and now that she was here in his arms, he wanted to take his time, to taste, to savor.
The hand at her shoulder moved down her back, holding her firmly against the length of him. Her skin was soft, so soft. He wanted to feel her skin grow hot and moist under his touch. He wanted to know every line, every curve of her body.
He’d never felt such a need for a woman. Yet all they had ever shared was a kiss. The taste of that kiss had lingered long after she had left his arms. Now he wanted more, so much more.
His hands moved along her back, touching, kneading, thrilling to the softness of her. Her breasts were flattened against his chest. He found their peaks, already hard with desire, as he ran his hands between their bodies.
He heard her gasp and thrilled to it. Need became raw desire, until he thought he would lose his control and slip over the edge of reason. He wanted to take her with him, until they both slid over the realm of sanity into madness.
Her hands glided around his waist, under his sweater. His skin was hot, damp. She needed to feel him, all of him, mouth to mouth, flesh to flesh.
When she buried her mouth against his throat, he felt her breath shudder over his skin. Everywhere she touched him he was on fire, and it was burning out of control.
She was his now, his completely. He felt her total surrender, and his heart soared at the knowledge. This strong, beautiful woman had surrendered to him.
His lips covered hers, nibbling, suckling, taking them higher and higher until he realized that her surrender was also his. He had lost himself in this woman, and no other woman would ever mean anything to him again.
Effortlessly he lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. With al
most unbearable tenderness he settled her on the sheets, then stretched out beside her.
Ivy heard him groan her name before his lips covered hers. “Weed. My lovely little Weed.”
His hands began a slow, rhythmic exploration of her body. She had no will to stop him. His lips, his hands were lifting her to heights she’d never known before. He leaned over her, dropping kisses on her wrist, the inside of her elbow, her upper arm. As he brought his mouth to the hollow of her throat, she felt lightheaded, and deliciously weak. Looking up, she saw the glitter of desire making his eyes gleam silver in the lamplight.
There would be no turning back, she knew. They had both slipped over the line of reason. Needs pulsed and throbbed, driving them deeper into passion. Their bodies had become a mass of nerve endings, responding to each touch of lips and fingertips.
Ivy felt her body hum and soar, higher than she’d ever been before. The world dissolved. There was only this bed, and this man, the ecstasy of his touch, and the dark, mysterious taste of him.
They were so caught up in their lovemaking, they didn’t hear the light tap on the door.
“Ivy? Are you in there?”
Caine’s hands stilled. Ivy paused, praying she had only imagined the voice.
The knock sounded louder. “Ivy? I see your light. I need to talk to you.”
It was a man’s muffled voice. Darren’s? David’s?
She turned wide eyes to Caine. He leaned up on one elbow and traced the outline of her lips, swollen from his kisses.
“Send him away.” His voice was a low growl against her mouth.
She wanted to cry in frustration. From the look on Caine’s face, he shared her feelings.
“Who is it?” Ivy called softly.
“Darren.”
“I’m sorry, Darren. I’m ready for bed. We’ll talk in the morning.”
“I’m afraid this can’t wait. I have to see you now. I’ll wait until you’re decent.”
Caine swore. His finger traced her eyebrow and he bent to place his lips to the spot. Her lids were heavy. Her eyes glowed, wide and luminous and softened with love.
“I’m not getting up, Darren. You’ll have to see me in the morning.”
The voice grew louder. “I’m not leaving until we talk. I’ll wait right here until you open the door.”
With a sigh of frustration, Caine sat up and caught Ivy’s hand, helping her to a sitting position beside him.
He sucked in a long, ragged breath. “It seems the best laid plans...”
She nodded, feeling empty and desolate.
He stood and pulled her to her feet. Wrapping his arms around her, he kissed her, then turned toward the balcony.
“I’ll leave the way I came in. And if any more men knock on your door tonight, you can have a steady stream of them going over the side of the house.”
She chuckled, then blew him a kiss.
He strode across the room and pulled her roughly into his arms. “One last kiss to warm me through the night.”
A flame, hot, and searing, leaped between them. Without a backward glance, he stepped through the open balcony door and was gone.
Ivy rummaged through the closet and pulled on a modest robe before facing Caine’s brother.