Travis nodded, amazed at how a fleeting expression on a man’s face could be so innocent and understandable with the right explanation, where before it had been a threat. “So what he was worried about was my exposing your identity.”
“Right. He didn’t realize then that there was any … personal involvement.”
Curious, Travis asked, “If there hadn’t been, and I’d been interested only in a story, determined to find out who you were, what would he have done?”
“Thrown dust in your face,” she answered promptly. “He wouldn’t have tried to buy you off or—in spite of some colorful accusations from the supermarket rags—have you killed. He simply would have laid a false trail for you to follow.”
“And I would have followed it?”
Saber smiled. “No slur on your abilities intended, darling, but Matt’s been hiding me for twenty-six years, and some pretty tough investigators have given the problem their all. He could have provided me with an innocent, foolproof identity that you would never have suspected was fabricated.”
“I suspected the Saber Duncan ‘life,’” he pointed out.
“Yes, but that was never intended to stand up to close scrutiny. Matt’s a magician, but false trails take time. Even as you were digging into my fictional background, Matt’s people were working to fill in the gaps; nobody expected me to succeed as quickly as I did, and we were all caught off balance by the sudden interest in me.”
“But he has the false trail ready now?”
“Nearly ready. Saber Duncan will soon have an identity even the most suspicious will be unable to disprove.”
“Won’t that make it impossible for you to claim your inheritance if you have to?”
“No. Everything I need to prove I’m Matt’s daughter is hidden away in a bank vault that rivals Fort Knox for security. And if, by chance, something happens to that information, three of Matt’s most trusted friends have duplicate information hidden away with equal security. All are under orders to find me instantly if anything happens to Matt.”
Suddenly Travis chuckled. “Forgive me, darling, but it sounds like something out of a spy novel!”
Seeing the humor of her situation, Saber laughed as well. “I know. Isn’t it ridiculous? As you can see, Matt is very careful!”
“Just protecting the gem of his life,” Travis said. “I can understand that—now.”
“I understand it, too. But it’s hard sometimes. On me and on him.”
Thoughtful now, Travis said, “You’ve been everything to him. All that was left of his wife …. I gather he adored her?”
Saber’s face softened. “Yes,” she said quietly. “Yes, he did. She was a frail woman physically, and the tragedies of losing her first two children nearly broke her. The doctors had warned her against getting pregnant again so soon, but—but she wanted a child so badly. She needed a child.” Saber sighed, then smiled slightly. “Matt never blamed me for her death. I was told later—by Alex, who was there—that Matt went berserk when my mother died. When he picked up his child, even the doctor was afraid for me. But Alex said he held me for hours: he said everyone who knew was convinced that if I had died, too, Matt would have gone insane.”
Travis reached for her hand and squeezed it gently. Seeking to ease her sadness, he said quietly, “So you were everything to him. No wonder it hit him so hard to come up here and find—”
“And find me in love with a journalistic writer,” she finished, eyes lightening a bit.
“A double threat.”
“Yes. Matt’s a good judge of character, and he formed a favorable impression of you when you met. But he still couldn’t help considering the possibility that you might be determined to expose a twenty-six-year-old secret.”
“And … you loved me,” Travis added.
“And I loved you. He’s known for some time that I couldn’t live his life, that I hated security and secrecy. But I was still his child. And he was still the only man in my life. Until you.”
Travis nodded slowly. “That’s hard for any father to accept. A strange man in his daughter’s life, in her heart. Even worse for him. Any man could wreck your life with a careless word, and your father knew it. He had to protect you as far as he could, and cope with his own sense of loss.”
“He said that he heard me sing the song. Did you see him?”
“I saw him.” Travis smiled at the memory. “I wanted to hate him, Saber. When I first saw him there, listening, I wanted to hate him. It seemed to me that he was intruding. But then I saw the grief and resignation on his face. The loss. I didn’t think of a father losing his daughter to another man, but of a man losing a dream to another man. And I couldn’t hate him because … because I knew how I’d feel if I lost you. And because he was accepting his loss with more grace than I’ll ever have.”
Saber held his hand tightly. “Don’t be too sure about that,” she said. “You have more grace than you realize.”
Travis shook his head but said nothing. “I hope your father and I can be friends one day.”
“You will be.”
“Does he realize I want to marry you?”
A demure smile curved Saber’s lips. “Well, he asked me about that, but since you’d never said in so many words …”
“I never said?” He was astonished.
“Never,” she said firmly.
“We talked about children.”
“Yes.”
“And a house with a white picket fence.”
“We did.”
“And sharing our dream.”
“I remember.”
He furrowed his brow in a mock frown. “But not marriage?”
“Never marriage.”
“Not a word?”
“Not a single word.” Saber frowned back at him. “And it’d be a bit much for you to take me away from Matt only to turn me into a kept woman. He wouldn’t like that at all.”
“I imagine he wouldn’t.” Travis said feelingly.
She smothered a giggle. “But of course, since you’ve never asked…”
Travis caught her suddenly in his arms, eyes laughing but intense. “Then I will. My beautiful bottled lightning, will you marry me?”
Saber, too, was abruptly serious. “It really doesn’t bother you, Travis? Who I am, I mean?”
“All I want,” he said steadily, “is you beside me for the rest of our lives. If your father’s … empire … intrudes in the future, then we’ll deal with it in the future.”
Slowly she slid her arms around his neck, eyes shining up at him like stars. “I love you,” she whispered, “and I’ll marry you tomorrow if you like.”
“That might… just … be soon enough,” he murmured, kissing her.
He lifted her up as he rose to his feet, and she asked teasingly, “Another storm coming?”
“Can’t you hear it?” He padded steadily toward the bedroom door. “Wind and lightning—force ten, at least. We’ll have to batten down the hatches, darling.”
“Ummm. I just love storms ….”
“By the way,” Travis murmured a long time later. “What is your name?”
Curled up at his side, she laughed softly. “Preston.”
“I know that.” Gently he swatted a rounded hip.
“Oh, you mean my other name.”
He hugged her. “Stop being difficult, woman!”
She laughed again. “My name is Saber.”
“What?”
“When I decided to live my own life, I also decided to claim my own name—part of it, anyway. Saber Preston is the name I was born with.”
Travis rubbed his chin against her soft hair. “I love you, Saber Preston. With all my heart.”
Saber lifted her head to smile at him, tears shimmering in her silvery eyes. “That just … might … be enough.”
ELEVEN
THOUGH BLOOD TESTS generally take time, a doctor friend of Cory’s in Prescott rushed theirs; Saber and Travis were married two days later.
T
he situation couldn’t have been better under the circumstances. The marriage of two such celebrities would have generated instant public attention almost anywhere in the country—except at The Hideaway, where more than one match had been quietly and discreetly formalized. Neither Saber nor Travis could have hoped to escape public notice completely; an announcement would be made later, with the location of the ceremony remaining secret.
It was felt by the principals that the second announcement they would make would quite divert attention from the first: the announcement of Saber’s retirement from public performance.
“Are you sure that’s what you want, Saber?”
“Quite sure, darling.”
“You won’t miss it?”
“No. But you might get tired of my singing in the shower.”
“Never ….”
Though no one had planned it, the situation was also best for Matt Preston. It would have been difficult, if not impossible, for him to have been present for his daughter’s wedding had it taken place anywhere else. It was not known that he was at The Hideaway, and since he tended to disappear periodically, not even the most suspicious would ever connect his current “disappearance” with a quiet wedding that took place at the same time.
The ever-efficient Cory located a minister who wouldn’t have known a celebrity if he’d fallen over one and had no earthly idea that he was marrying two of them and had been introduced to a world-famous billionaire …. Cory also arranged for an adoring records clerk to handle the license without ever noticing that he could have made a small fortune in bribes—either to talk or to keep his mouth shut.
The other guests never knew that a wedding had taken place practically beneath their noses; Cory arranged a special party to keep everyone occupied, and no one even saw the reverend.
So, while the guests enjoyed their party, Saber and Travis were quietly married beneath a large tree, on the edge of a meadow, with Matt to give his daughter away and Cory, Mark, and Alex as witnesses. Mark happily sketched the ceremony, then presented the pictures to them as his present. Birds provided the only music, and the wild-flowers Saber carried filled the air with sweetness.
The rings they exchanged had been chosen and purchased in Prescott the day before in a tiny jewelry store too far off the beaten path to attract celebrities; the jeweler saw only a glowing couple fathoms deep in love and looked no further than that.
Saber wore a beautiful old-fashioned ivory wedding gown that was one of Cory’s many contributions to the couple’s future happiness.
“It was my mother’s; she was a half-pint like you. God knows I’ll never be able to wear it!”
Also courtesy of Cory was the tuxedo Travis wore.
“Darling, you have to hurry and get that prince up here. Cory deserves a prince.”
“I’ll see what I can do ….”
The knot was well and truly tied.
Since neither could think of a place better than Cory’s retreat for their honeymoon, there they remained. And if the other guests noticed the gleaming new rings worn by the couple they had watched fall in love, no one commented. It was a tacit rule at The Hideaway to “forget” whom or what one had seen, and that rule was upheld by the guests, all of whom yearned for at least one private retreat where they could rest and relax.
Though he did not intrude on their privacy, Matt Preston also remained at The Hideaway. And because of the kind of man he was, resignation inevitably gave way to acceptance, which in turn blossomed into happiness at his daughter’s obvious joy.
But the wary businessman who had learned caution during a hard and tragic life could hardly help but succumb to suspicion when his newly married daughter joined him and Mark in the main dining room one night barely two weeks after the ceremony.
“Where’s Travis?” he asked as Saber sat down across from him.
Saber, whose eyes resembled stars these days, sent him a quick smile. “There was something he had to do.”
“Will he be joining us later?” “No,” Saber answered casually. “Cory flew him down to Prescott this morning. He’ll be back in a couple of days.”
“Will he get my paints?” Mark looked up from his plate to ask.
“Of course he will, Mark. He promised, didn’t he?”
Quietly, Matt asked, “He’s staying in Prescott?”
Saber looked at her father, knowing that only time would allay the concern she saw in his eyes. “I don’t think so.”
“Then where?”
“I didn’t ask, Matt.”
“You have a right—”
“Matt.” She smiled at him. “I haven’t known Travis very long, but I know him very well.”
Her father sighed. “I know you trust him, honey, but …”
“But?”
Reluctantly, Matt said, “A man could live out his life in luxury for the price of … a secret.”
Saber wasn’t angry. Her father had gone through a great deal in his life, and she knew it too well to be angered by his doubts. “Do you honestly—honestly—believe Travis would do that?”
“No. I’d be very surprised if he did. But I’ve been mistaken in men before.”
“Not this time.”
“I hope not, honey. But if you don’t know where he is …”
“I know where he isn’t. He isn’t selling a secret to the highest bidder. And he isn’t holed up somewhere in a hotel room writing about the ‘lost heir.’”
Neither of them worried about talking in front of Mark. If he guessed the relationship between them, which was entirely possible, he would never reveal his knowledge by a careless—or knowing—remark. For all his amiable vagueness, he was honest and loyal. And they were both his friends.
“Then where is he?”
Saber smiled. “He had something to take care of.”
Matt looked at her thoughtfully. “Testing your faith, perhaps?”
“No, Matt, he isn’t testing my faith. I can assure you, he didn’t want to leave.” Her eyes turned inward, remembering and savoring their tender good-bye. Then she focused on her father’s face. “It’s something he had to do.”
They ate in silence for a few moments, then Matt said, “Would he have gone to tell his parents?”
“No, we’re going to do that together. And explain the reason behind all the secrecy.”
Matt frowned slightly.
“They have a right to know,” she said.
“Yes. I know.”
Abruptly, they heard Mark’s soft, hurried voice:
“If there were dreams to sell,
What would you buy?
Some cost a passing bell;
Some a light sigh,
That shakes from Life’s fresh crown
Only a roseleaf down.
If there were dreams to sell,
Merry and sad to tell,
And the crier rung the bell,
What would you buy?”
As his companions stared at him, he added helpfully, “Beddoes. I think,” and returned his attention to his plate.
“I have no idea what you mean,” Saber told the artist.
“Buying dreams,” Mark said vaguely. “Nice if you can do it. Some people can. Some can’t. Some dreams aren’t for sale.” Then, before Saber could ask for further clarification, the artist excused himself and left the table.
Matt unerringly recaptured the subject uppermost in his mind. “Saber, I could—”
“No,” she interrupted, “you couldn’t. Matt,” she added in a softer voice, “please learn to trust Travis. Whatever he’s doing, it’s for me. For us.”
“How do you know that?”
“The look in his eyes when he asked me to ask no questions,” she replied.
After a moment, Matt nodded. Then, slowly, he said, “You want no part of my empire, do you, honey?”
“You know I don’t. I respect what you’ve built, Matt. But I’ve made plenty of money in my own right, and so has Travis. He’ll write because he’s a writer, and I’
ll sing to him and our children.”
He nodded again. “I don’t see how we can avoid eventual public disclosure,” he said. “You’ve a right to claim the name you were born with, and your children will deserve to know their heritage.”
“Yes,” she agreed quietly. She knew by her father’s expression that this was something he had thought out at some length.
“Then”—he smiled, the mischievous smile of a canny magician about to produce a rabbit—“maybe we can turn this famous secret of ours into no more than a nine days’ wonder.”
“I’m for that. How?”
“I’ll disinherit you,” he said promptly.
She couldn’t help but giggle. “That sounds easy enough. But will it work?”
“It will,” he said, “if I start dismantling the empire immediately.”
Saber was more than a little startled. “Matt, you don’t have to do that.”
He laughed quietly. “Honey, I’m not doing this just for you. I’ve spent the better part of my life making money—and now’s the time to spend it where it’ll do the most good.” Soberly, he added, “There are causes crying out for support. Financial backing. And the days of empires are past; no one man should have the power I have.”
It was serious remarks like that, Saber thought lovingly, that made her father so special. Because he meant it. “It’ll be quite a task,” she pointed out, “even for you. All the companies, the properties, the investments.”
“It’ll have to be done carefully,” he agreed. “If I dumped all my stock on the market, I could easily knock the bottom out.”
“Years,” she murmured. “It’ll take years, won’t it?”
“Oh, easily.” Suddenly he grinned. “I’ve already laid the groundwork with the lawyers, so it’ll be done even if I don’t live to finish it.”
Saber was smiling at him. “So I’ll end up being just the daughter of a mad ex-billionaire?”
“Something like that. We’ll delay the disclosure of your identity until we can time it nicely. If I know the press and public—and I do—the initial attention over you will gradually be pushed off the front pages.” Seriously, he added, “You may have to hire some kind of security for the duration, but I’ll make damned sure you won’t be anything near the target you might have been.”