The Family Diamond
Moyra Tarling
When Maura O'Sullivan took a job with Spencer Diamond, she knew getting too close to the handsome and commanding horse rancher might be risky. But she had a bigger goal in mind–to get closer to the father she never knew she had, who happened to live nearby. For that she would do anything…even spend long days in the company of Spencer, a man whose dazzling blue eyes and soft lips she'd never been able to forget….And then her father walked in the door, and all else was forgotten–almost. Because as she waited to see if he would claim her as his own, Maura remembered Spencer's warm embrace and passionate kisses, and realized how desperately she was in need of both men in her life….
“Maura! Watch out!” Spencer shouted.
Maura wasn’t altogether sure what happened next, but seconds later she was sprawling on her back on the dusty ground with Spencer on top of her.
Spencer slowly eased away from her, breathing hard.
“Are you completely and utterly mad? Red, do you know how close those hooves came to that pretty little head of yours?”
“They weren’t that close,” she protested, refusing to acknowledge he was right. “And don’t call me Red.”
“I’ll call you Red if I damn well feel like it.”
Outraged, she opened her mouth to protest. But her words were forgotten when her gaze collided with his. When he slowly began to lower his mouth toward hers, her pulse went into overdrive.
“Don’t you dare—” she began.
“Oh, I dare,” Spencer said huskily. “You know, Red, I’ve wanted to do this from the first moment I set eyes on you.” With that, he covered her mouth with his.
Dear Reader,
Not only is February the month for lovers, it is the second month for readers to enjoy exciting celebratory titles across all Silhouette series. Throughout 2000, Silhouette Books will be commemorating twenty years of publishing the best in contemporary category romance fiction. This month’s Silhouette Romance lineup continues our winning tradition.
Carla Cassidy offers an emotional VIRGIN BRIDES title, in which a baby on the doorstep sparks a second chance for a couple who’d once been Waiting for the Wedding—their own!—and might be again.…Susan Meier’s charming miniseries BREWSTER BABY BOOM continues with Bringing Up Babies, as black sheep brother Chas Brewster finds himself falling for the young nanny hired to tend his triplet half siblings.
A beautiful horse trainer’s quest for her roots leads her to two men in Moyra Tarling’s The Family Diamond. Simon Says…Marry Me! is the premiere of Myrna Mackenzie’s THE WEDDING AUCTION. Don’t miss a single story in this engaging three-book miniseries. A pregnant bride-for-hire dreams of making The Double Heart Ranch a real home, but first she must convince her husband in this heart-tugger by Leanna Wilson. And If the Ring Fits… some lucky woman gets to marry a prince! In this sparkling debut Romance from Melissa McClone, an accident-prone American heiress finds herself a royal bride-to-be!
In coming months, look for Diana Palmer, a Joan Hohl-Kasey Michaels duet and much more. It’s an exciting year for Silhouette Books, and we invite you to join the celebration!
Happy Reading!
Mary-Theresa Hussey
Senior Editor
The Family Diamond
Moyra Tarling
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Books by Moyra Tarling
Silhouette Romance
A Tender Trail #541
A Kiss and a Promise #679
Just in Time for Christmas #763
All About Adam #782
No Mistaking Love #907
Just a Memory Away #937
Christmas Wishes #979
Finally a Family #1081
It Must Have Been the Mistletoe #1122
Twice a Father #1156
Marry in Haste #1242
Wedding Day Baby #1325
The Baby Arrangement #1367
A Diamond for Kate #1411
The Family Diamond #1428
MOYRA TARLING
was born in Aberdeenshire, Scotland. It was there that she was first introduced to and became hooked on romance novels. In 1968, she immigrated to Vancouver, Canada, where she met and married her husband. They have two grown children. Empty-nesters now, they enjoy taking trips in their getaway van and browsing in antique shops for corkscrews and buttonhooks. But Moyra’s favorite pastime is curling up with a great book—a romance, of course! Moyra loves to hear from readers. You can write to her at P.O. Box 161, Blaine, WA 98231-0161.
Contents
Chapter One (#ue4c8c607-a391-5e87-91f5-7bccca53702b)
Chapter Two (#ucb1f1ea1-3fe4-54c6-a7d6-fc7ce08c0de1)
Chapter Three (#u6d629033-a74c-5fc7-8c4a-7d37cffce2f2)
Chapter Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter Thirteen (#litres_trial_promo)
Epilogue (#litres_trial_promo)
Chapter One
Maura O’sullivan stood at the foot of the wooden stairs leading up to the veranda of the elegant two-storied ranch house.
The taxi had pulled away. There was no turning back. Suddenly, a feeling of apprehension and excitement scampered along her nerve-endings, and the courage and conviction that had brought her to California in search of the father she’d believed was dead, seemed to drain out of her.
The urge to call out to the taxi driver, to tell him she’d made a mistake almost overwhelmed her.…
“I thought I heard a car pull up.” At the sound of the deep masculine voice Maura felt her pulse take a crazy leap. She quickly corralled her misgivings and glanced up at the man who’d appeared on the veranda from the side of the house.
Dressed in faded blue jeans and a white T-shirt, Spencer Diamond was even more handsome than she remembered. Oozing confidence, and with a hint of arrogance in his step, he came down the stairs to meet her.
“Welcome to California!” He stopped in front of her.
“Thank you,” she replied as she met his steady blue gaze.
“Why didn’t you call from the bus station? I could have driven the wagon into town and picked you up,” Spencer said as he picked up the suitcase and bag at her feet.
“I don’t suppose you mean one of those old covered wagons, do you?” Maura asked, interest and humor lacing her tone.
Spencer held her gaze for a fleeting moment and instantly felt that sharp tug of attraction he’d experienced the first time he set eyes on Maura O’sullivan two months ago in Kentucky.
He smiled and shook his head. “Afraid not. Covered wagons are only permitted on the roads during Kincade’s annual Easter Parade or on special occasions such as weddings.”
“Oh…I see.” Disappointment echoed through her voice. “Ever since I was a little girl I’ve always wanted a ride in a real covered wagon, like the ones the settlers used when they made the trip across the country to California.”
“One of my father’s friends collects pioneer memorabilia,” Spencer told her. “Perhaps while you’re here I can arrange a tour for you, and maybe even a ride in one of the wagons.”
“That would be lovely,” Maura responded warmly.
“How was your bus trip?” Spencer asked as they climbed the stairs.
“Better than a wagon ride I guess,” she joked. “But long and tiring just the same.”
Spencer ushered her ahead of him, giving him the opportunity to study her. She wore a jean jacket and coffee-colored shirt and a pair of jeans that fit snugly, accentuating the rounded curve of her bottom.
A mass of coppery-red hair cascaded down her back in riotous disarray and framed a heart-shaped face he’d never quite been able to forget.
Not for the first time Spencer wondered at the reason for Maura’s complete change of heart. Two months ago, while he and his parents had been visiting a stud farm near Lexington, Kentucky, he’d happened to mention to a group of his host’s friends the difficulties he was having with one of his prize racehorses.
One of the guests proceeded to tell him about Maura O’sullivan, a local horse trainer, extolling her talents and the almost magical success she’d had working with troubled and abused horses.
Spencer had voiced his skepticism, but his host had assured him Maura O’sullivan could indeed work magic.
Later that same evening he’d come face-to-face with the stunning redhead and, deciding he had nothing to lose and everything to gain, he’d told her about Indigo and invited her to his ranch in California.
He recalled quite vividly the scornful look she’d subjected him to, before none-too-politely tossing his invitation back in his face, repeating a few of the negative comments she’d undoubtedly overheard him make.
That’s why her call a week ago asking if he still needed help with his horse had come as something of a shock. But with little progress being made with Indigo, and an important race less than ten days away, he’d been hard-pressed to turn down her offer.
“You have a beautiful home,” Maura commented.
“Thank you. The stables are out back. I’ll give you a tour later,” Spencer said.
As they approached the front door it was suddenly opened and Maura instantly recognized the attractive, silver-haired woman smiling at her.
“Maura! I thought I heard voices. It’s so good to see you.” Nora Diamond’s greeting was warm and sincere, and Maura suddenly found herself enveloped in a welcoming hug.
At the unexpected embrace tears stung her eyes and she quickly blinked them away. “Thank you, Mrs. Diamond. It’s good to see you. You’re looking well.”
“Thank you,” Nora replied, stepping aside. “Please, come in. How was your journey? Can I offer you a cup of coffee?”
“The trip was tiring, and thank you, I never say no to a cup of coffee,” Maura replied.
“Spencer, dear, take Maura’s suitcase up to her room.”
“Of course, Mother.” Spencer was already heading for the stairs.
Maura followed Nora across the tiled foyer and along a hallway past a large dining room and on into a bright, spacious kitchen.
A large wooden butcher block occupied the center of the room, and forming a U-shape around it, and all within easy access, was the stove, fridge and double sink.
The cupboards were painted a pristine white, and the countertop, in a contrasting slate blue, matched the large venetian tiles covering the floor.
The work area was well laid out and Maura especially liked the array of copper pots and pans hanging from the ceiling above the butcher block.
A round oak table and six matching chairs sat near a bay window that overlooked the veranda. Beyond that lay the garden, and in the distance Maura could see the rooftops of buildings and guessed they were the stables.
“What a beautiful kitchen,” Maura commented.
“Thank you. Please have a seat,” Nora invited as she crossed to the counter. “So tell me, how was your trip?”
“Very nice, thank you,” Maura replied politely. “I love watching the changing countryside.” She didn’t drive and hated flying. The two-day bus trip across five states had been a pleasant alternative.
Throughout the journey she’d been preoccupied with trying to formulate a plan of how she could arrange a meeting with her father.
Maura had only learned of her father’s existence a month ago. She’d been cleaning out a closet full of her mother’s things when she’d come across an old shoebox. Inside she’d found a variety of papers including an old journal written in her mother’s handwriting.
Intrigued, Maura had read the daily entries written by her mother at the age of twenty-one. But when Maura reached the entry describing in detail the warm summer day her mother met a handsome young man named Michael Carson, the tone and content of the journal changed dramatically.
They’d bumped into each other at the Bridlewood Country Fair, and from that day forward Bridget Murphy’s journal had been filled with the romantic musings of a young woman in love.
Maura soon realized that her mother and the young man had become lovers. But a month after their first meeting, Mickey, as her mother had affectionately called him, had returned to California. After his departure the journal entries had begun to dwindle until they stopped altogether.
Maura couldn’t help feeling disappointed that the romance hadn’t worked out. About to close the journal she’d noticed an envelope tucked between its worn pages.
The envelope written in her mother’s handwriting was addressed to Michael Carson, Walnut Grove, Kincade, California. The letter had been opened and read, but scrawled across the address were the words Return to Sender.
Inside was a letter her mother had written. It began:
“Dear Mickey…I’m going to have a baby, your baby…”
Stunned, she’d read the journal and letter again, noting the date on the letter was two months before she was born. Michael Carson was her father.
At first she hadn’t known what to do or where to turn. But after making a few discreet phone calls she’d discovered that Michael Carson still resided in the small California town of Kincade.
“What do you take in your coffee?” The question came from Spencer as he crossed to the table, carrying a tray with cups and saucers, cream and sugar. She’d been too distracted by her thoughts to hear his return, but his deep, resonant voice quickly brought her attention to the present.
Maura met Spencer’s blue gaze, and for several long seconds she knew exactly how a deer felt when it found itself trapped in the glare of headlights.
Her breath snagged in her throat, and a guilty warmth crept up her neck and over her face. Her heart reacted, too, knocking wildly against her ribs.
“Uh…sorry.” she muttered. “I was daydreaming, enjoying the view,” she said, flashing a nervous smile.
“Really,” Spencer commented. “From the way you were frowning, I’d bet my bottom dollar you were puzzling over something. A problem perhaps?” He held her gaze, almost as if he was trying to see inside her head. “Am I right?”
Maura swallowed to alleviate the sudden dryness in her throat. He was too perceptive, by far. And the fact that he had reservations about her was easy to see.
In truth she couldn’t really blame him. She’d been deliberately and unpardonably rude two months ago when she’d turned down his initial invitation to his ranch, but his arrogant behavior and skeptical comments had rubbed her the wrong way and she’d seen no reason to accept.
Her call asking if he still needed her help was a complete about-face, and she’d known as she talked to him she was the last person he’d expected to hear from.
The real reason she’d made the call was she’d remembered that the Blue Diamond Ranch was located in Kincade, California, the same town as the address on the letter she’d found in her mother’s journal.
“There’s that frown again,” Spencer teased, but Maura heard the slight edge to his voice.
“Spencer, dear, behave,” his mother admonished as she brought the coffee carafe and a plate of cookies to the table. “Maura’s probably weary from the long bus ride.”
Maura flashed Spencer’s mother a grateful smile.
“The coffee smells wonderful,” she said.
“Cream and sugar?” Spencer asked politely, as his mother filled three cups, then returned to the counter to replace the carafe in the coffee machine.
“Cream, thank you,” Maura replied, forcing herself to meet Spencer’s blue gaze. The glint of humor together with the infectious grin slowly spreading across his handsome features caught her off guard and sent her pulse skittering wildly.
“You’re welcome, red.” He poured cream into her cup.
Maura bristled at the use of the detested nickname. She dropped her gaze, stifling the urge to tell him not to call her “red,” knowing full well that to voice her displeasure would surely result in Spencer using the nickname at every possible opportunity just to annoy her.
Schooling her features, she glanced at him once more and for a dizzying moment Maura wondered if her heart had stopped beating. The air between them crackled with tension and something much more dangerous. Her heart restarted itself, beating at an irregular pace.
An emotion she couldn’t define flared briefly in those dazzling blue eyes before it vanished, making her wonder if she’d seen it at all.
“I thought your father would be back by now,” Nora commented as she rejoined them at the table.
“Where is Dad?” Spencer asked, leaning back casually in his chair.
“He had a few errands to run,” his mother replied. “He said he’d be back by four, but it’s nearly five. Oh…here he is now,” she added as the kitchen door opened and her husband appeared.
“Sorry I’m late, dear.” Elliot Diamond dropped a kiss on the top of his wife’s head. He smiled at Maura. “Hi, Maura. It’s nice to see you again. Did you have a good trip?”
“Yes, thank you,” Maura replied politely.
“Why are you late?” Nora asked her husband.
“Oh…I stopped by Michael’s place on my way home. I picked up a few groceries and put them in his fridge. He gets back from his cruise tomorrow, remember?”
“Of course!” Nora said. “Was everything all right over there?”
“Everything looked fine,” Elliot assured his wife before turning to Maura. “We’ve had a rash of break-ins in the area recently and so we try to look out for each other. Michael Carson is a neighbor and one of our oldest and dearest friends. Is that fresh coffee I smell?” he asked, moving to the counter.
Maura felt the blood drain from her face and her heart slam against her breastbone at the mention of her father’s name. Surely she’d heard wrong?
“Did you say your neighbor is Michael Carson?” Her voice seemed to come from somewhere far away.
“Yes,” Elliot Diamond answered as he poured himself a coffee. “He owns Walnut Grove, the adjoining property,” he went on. “He and his wife had been our friends for more years than I care to remember. He’s a widower now and has been for over a year. Do you know him?”
Chapter Two
Maura couldn’t breathe. Her chest felt tight, and she wondered for a moment if she was having a heart attack. To learn that her father was a close friend of the Diamond family was a bonus she hadn’t expected.
Realizing everyone was staring at her, waiting for her to respond, she gathered her scattered thoughts and with a calmness she was far from feeling forced air into her lungs.
“I’m sorry. It’s Mitchell, not Michael, who I was thinking of. Mitchell Carson was an old friend of my mother’s,” she quickly improvised, hoping she didn’t sound too foolish. “I haven’t seen him in years.” She smiled. “Your neighbor was on a cruise, you say? That must be a wonderful way to spend a holiday.
“I’ve never been on a boat or a ship. Well, that’s not strictly true,” she hurried on nervously. “I have ridden in a motorboat, but a cruise ship…that’s totally different.” She paused briefly for breath.
“I read somewhere that the cruise ships they’re building these days are as tall as some skyscrapers,” she soldiered on. She knew she was babbling but she couldn’t seem to stop. “Have you and Elliot been on a cruise?” she asked.
“As a matter of fact we’ve been on several,” Nora Diamond replied.
“Oh…where did you cruise to?” Maura asked, relieved that she appeared to have succeeded in smoothing over those awkward moments.
Though she longed to find out more about their neighbor, Michael Carson, the man who was her father, she decided it would be best to steer clear of the subject, at least for now.
Nora turned to her husband. “Our first cruise was to Alaska, wasn’t it dear?”
For the next few minutes Maura heard about their cruise experiences, and though she listened attentively and asked questions, beneath her outward show of interest her thoughts were in turmoil.
To add to her agitation she was intensely aware of Spencer’s penetrating gaze. He’d risen from the table and was leaning against the counter giving the impression of a casual listener, but there was nothing casual in the way his blue gaze remained focused on her.
She had the distinct impression he hadn’t been taken in at all by her stumbling attempts to redirect the conversation, or her interest in cruising. And the frown that darkened his handsome features confirmed he was still puzzling over her reaction.
Maura brought her hand to her mouth to stifle a yawn.
Her hostess was quick to notice. “Maura, my dear, you must be exhausted, and I’m chattering on about cruises.”
“I’m sorry,” Maura said. “I guess the bus ride made me more tired than I thought.”
“Spencer, show Maura to her room,” Nora continued. “You can relax for a while. Have a nap. Dinner is at seven.”
Maura rose from the chair. “Thanks for coffee.”
Spencer eased himself away from the counter. “If you’d like to come this way.”
Maura kept her smile in place and followed Spencer from the kitchen. He was silent as he led her up the oak stairs.
“The house is beautiful,” Maura commented. “Have you lived here all your life?”
“Yes,” Spencer said. “The Blue Diamond Ranch has been in our family for several generations.”
“Are all the neighboring properties horse ranches, too?” she asked.
“No,” he responded, but he didn’t elaborate on his answer as she’d hoped. The temptation to ask him about Walnut Grove was strong, but she kept silent. At the top of the stairs Spencer turned left. Halfway down the corridor he came to a halt.
“Your bedroom has its own bathroom,” he told her as he opened the door.
“Thank you.” Maura started to cross the threshold, but Spencer’s hand came out to stop her. “Do you know Michael Carson?” he asked abruptly.
Maura heard the hint of tension in his voice, and, careful to keep her expression neutral, she met his gaze.
“No, I’ve never had the pleasure,” she replied truthfully, ignoring the prickle of sensation darting up her arm caused, she knew, by his fingers resting on the sleeve of her jean jacket.
Spencer held her gaze for what seemed an eternity. He was searching her face for…what? She didn’t know. Her heart sounded like a drum-roll crescendo in her ears, and he was standing so close she was sure he must hear it.
“I’ll see you at dinner,” he said before turning and striding away.
Maura stepped inside the carpeted room and closed the door. She leaned against it for support and, taking several deep breaths, waited for her heart to slow to a more normal pace.
Her thoughts turned to her father and the fact that she might not have to wait too long to meet him. If Michael Carson was a close a friend of the Diamond family, it was possible he’d drop in for a neighborly visit.
Maura’s breath hitched and her pulse gathered speed at the prospect of meeting her father, the man she hadn’t known existed until a month ago.
She wasn’t surprised to learn that he’d been married. But the fact that he was now a widower simplified matters a little. Her trip to California had been impulsive, but she had no intention of creating any kind of problem for him.
Restless, she crossed to the stylish French doors leading onto a small balcony. Opening the doors she stepped outside.
The sun had already gone down, but a faint trail of pink tinged the darkening sky along with a smattering of stars. The air had cooled, and a breeze tugged at her hair. She sighed, welcoming the caress that helped calm the jittery excitement inside her.
Not for the first time she wished there had been a photograph of Michael Carson amongst her mother’s personal things, but other than the journal and the letter there had been nothing.
She would have to be patient. It was fortunate that he was returning from, rather than setting out on, his cruise.
Her mother’s death a year ago from cancer had left Maura without family—no brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, cousins or grandparents. Though her mother had married Brian O’sullivan when Maura was three, they’d never had children of their own.
Maura had often wondered why her mother had married Brian, who, at her mother’s insistence, had legally adopted Maura. But her childhood dream of being part of a real family, of having a father who loved her unconditionally had been quickly crushed.
In Brian O’sullivan’s eyes she was another man’s child, and for the most part he ignored her. His bouts of drinking turned him into a mean and angry man, and Maura soon learned to stay out of his way.
The marriage lasted three years, dissolving after her mother finally tired of her stepfather’s constant drinking and verbal abuse. For Maura it was a relief to be rid of him, but his negative presence had only heightened her longing for her real father.
She’d tried asking her mother questions about him, only to be told the subject was off-limits. Though she’d known her mother had loved her, Maura always had the impression that having a child out of wedlock had been something of a burden for her. And Maura had been envious of friends who were lucky enough to have a loving, caring father.
Learning that her own father was alive and living in California had rocked her to the core, and she knew she would never rest until she’d met him face-to-face and asked him why he’d turned his back on her and her mother all those years ago.
She needed to know. She deserved to know.
Reentering the bedroom, she noticed the tasteful decor. A cream-colored carpet covered the floor, and the bedroom furniture, made from mahogany, consisted of a dressing table with matching nightstands and a beautifully carved headboard on the queen-size bed.
The bedspread reminded Maura of a field of wild-flowers, and the walls, painted a pale shade of apricot, gave the room a cool ambience.
Crossing to her suitcase she lifted it onto the bed and proceeded to unpack.
Spencer stood at the wet bar in the dining room and poured himself a generous serving of whisky. His parents were in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on the meal.
Ten years ago his father had handed the business of running the ranch over to Spencer. Since then his father derived a great deal of pleasure from puttering around in the kitchen.
During the years he and his brother and sister had been growing up, his mother had hired a cook. And once they’d all left home for college or a career, his mother hadn’t had the heart to let Mrs. B. go. Mrs. B. had taught her new and apt pupil, Elliot Diamond, everything she knew, while his mother had happily encouraged her husband to take over in the kitchen.
Spencer smiled. After more than forty years of marriage his parents were still very much in love and truly enjoyed each other’s company. And when Spencer had married Lucy, he’d been sure that theirs would be the kind of marriage that would last.
He’d been wrong. His marriage had been nothing short of a disaster, souring his dreams and leaving him adrift on a sea of pain and bitterness.
A faint sound caught his attention, and he turned to see Maura standing in the doorway dressed in a cream blouse and rainbow-colored skirt that reached her ankles. Her coppery hair was tamed into a severe knot at the base of her elegant neck.
“Come in,” he invited, aware once more of a swift jab of attraction at the sight of her. “May I pour you a drink?” he asked, deciding he liked her much better with her hair flowing free, the way he’d seen her the first time they met. He was sorely tempted to walk over and remove the pins.
“Soda water would be nice, thank you,” she replied. She came toward him, stopping on the other side of the bar.
“Are you sure I can’t interest you in a glass of Chardonnay? Or a Riesling perhaps? California wineries produce some of the best wines in the world.”
She nibbled thoughtfully on her lower lip, and instantly his stomach muscles clenched and an emotion, long dormant, stirred deep inside him.
“Thank you. I’d love to try a California Chardonnay.”
“Good choice,” he replied. Setting his glass on the bar, he opened the small fridge below the counter and brought out a bottle of wine.
With practiced ease he stripped off its foil cover and withdrew the cork with the aid of a big brass corkscrew clamped onto the bar.
“Now there’s a clever device,” Maura commented. She watched him pour the pale gold liquid into a wineglass.
“And very efficient,” he said, handing her the glass.
“Thank you.” Her fingers brushed his and at the fleeting contact, a shiver of sensation darted up her arm. She threw him a startled glance, and as their gazes collided, her heart lurched painfully and her breath froze in her throat.
“There you are, Maura,” Nora Diamond’s greeting shattered the tension-filled silence. It was with some relief Maura turned to her hostess. “Is your room comfortable?” Nora asked.
“It’s lovely, thank you,” Maura responded.
“Be sure and let me know if you need anything,” Nora said with a smile. “Is that Chardonnay you’re drinking?”
Maura nodded. “Your son kindly poured me a glass.”
“Spencer, dear. I’ll have one, too,” his mother said. “Oh…and, Maura, when it comes to mealtimes, they’re usually a casual affair. My husband told me to announce that dinner’s ready, so please take a seat anywhere at the table,” she went on. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll go and give Elliot a hand.”
Careful to avoid Spencer’s gaze, Maura crossed to the oak dining table. Setting down her glass she pulled out the nearest chair.
“How’s the wine?” Spencer asked coming up behind her. He held the chair for her, and as she sat down she could feel his warm breath fanning the back of her neck.
Awareness danced across her skin, leaving a trail of heat in its wake. It took every ounce of control to stop her hand from shaking as she reached for her wineglass.
She sipped the Chardonnay, more to steady her nerves than to taste, and as the silky coolness slide down her throat, the tension inside her slowly began to ease.
“Hmm.…it’s lovely. Refreshing, with a crisp fruity taste,” she said brightly.
“I’m impressed.” Spencer placed the glass his mother had ordered next to a place setting. “And here I thought folks from Kentucky only drank bourbon.”
“Oh…we do.” Maura heard the humor in his voice and fought to hide a grin. “And it’s the best bourbon in the world, as you know. But there are some of us who have actually been known to recognize a decent glass of wine when we taste one.”
Spencer emitted a low rumble of laughter. The sound sent a fresh flurry of sensation chasing down her spine.
Suddenly Elliot appeared carrying a steaming platter to the table. He flashed Maura a smile as he set down a dish of chicken breasts drowning in a creamy mushroom sauce.
Nora followed with two serving dishes, one containing steamed potatoes, the other a variety of vegetables.
Once they were seated and the food served, conversation drifted easily from one subject to another as they ate.
Spencer occupied the chair directly across from Maura, and she found it both annoying and disconcerting that each time their gazes met her heart skipped a beat.
“Did you say Michael is due home tomorrow?” The question came from Spencer, and Maura quickly shook off the feeling of fatigue slowly descending on her and, holding her breath, waited for a response.
“I believe he gets in sometime in the afternoon,” Nora reported.
“Where exactly was he cruising to?” Maura asked hoping to keep the subject of her father in the forefront.
“The Caribbean,” Elliot replied. “Though I don’t recall which ports of call he was visiting.”
“Does he travel a lot?” Maura asked, her tone light.
“Yes. He and his wife enjoyed taking trips,” Nora answered. “We went on several vacations with them when Ruth was alive. This is the first trip he’s taken since her death.”
“He must still miss his wife,” Maura said, cautiously careful not to sound too interested.
“Very much,” Elliot replied.
“I’m afraid Michael’s had more than his share of sorrow these past few years,” Nora added, darting a concerned glance at her son.
Puzzled, Maura looked across the table at Spencer.
“Michael also lost his daughter, Lucy, who happened to be my wife,” Spencer said. His tone was level, his voice carefully controlled.
Maura fought not to react, but inside she was reeling. From the brief conversation earlier she’d learned her father had been married, but somehow the knowledge that he’d had another daughter, that she’d had a half sister—and that her half sister had been married to Spencer—was something of a shock.
“Lucy was an only child.” Nora picked up the thread, effectively capturing Maura’s attention. “She and Spencer had only been married a year…” Nora came to a halt, glancing once more at her son before continuing. “Lucy died in a car accident two years ago. Ruth never really recovered from her daughter’s death.”
Maura drew a steadying breath and met Spencer’s gaze. His eyes were shuttered, his expression unreadable. It was obvious that the pain of losing his wife still lingered, and her heart went out to him.
“How tragic. I’m so sorry for your loss,” Maura said.
Spencer looked away, making no reply. He reached for his water glass.
“Lucy was a beautiful young woman,” Elliot commented, filling the silence and drawing Maura away from Spencer. “Being an only child she was spoiled and a little reckless.”
“Lucy’s death hit us all very hard,” Nora went on. She threw her son a compassionate glance. “Ruth simply never got over it, dying a year later of a broken heart.”
“Difficult as it’s been for Michael, we saw this trip as a sign he’s starting to come to terms with the tragedy and moving on with his life,” Elliot said.
As Maura listened to Nora and Elliot talk about their daughter-in-law, she was both puzzled and intrigued by Spencer’s silence. He appeared to have withdrawn to some private place.
Nora rose from the table, and started to gather up the dishes, bringing an end to the conversation.
“Let me help,” Maura said.
“You’ll do no such thing, at least not tonight,” Nora asserted good-naturedly. “Stay and chat with Spencer.”
Maura’s heart skipped a beat. She would have preferred to follow her hostess and talk more about Michael Carson.
“Coffee anyone?” Elliot asked, reappearing with carafe in hand.
“I’ll have coffee, Dad.” Spencer pushed back his chair and crossed to the bar.
“Yes, thank you,” Maura replied. “And the chicken was delicious. My compliments to the chef.”
“Thank you,” Elliot responded as he began to pour coffee into cups.
“Maura? Can I interest you in a liqueur? There’s Brandy? Cointreau? Or how about Grand Marnier?” Spencer offered.
“No, thank you,” Maura replied. She stood up. “Actually I think I’ll pass on the coffee. It’s been a long day, I’m rather tired. I’ll just say good-night.”
“By all means, my dear,” Elliot said.
Maura dropped her napkin on the table and made her way from the room. She stopped for a moment in the doorway and glanced at Spencer, who was pouring himself a liqueur. She could see the tension in his shoulders and in the line of his jaw, almost as if he was gritting his teeth.
The conversation at dinner had obviously upset him more than he was willing to show. Ever since Lucy’s name had been mentioned, she’d noticed his withdrawal and noticed, too, that the atmosphere in the room had changed from lighthearted to melancholy.
Even now he appeared to be deep in thought, and Maura could only guess that the loss of his wife was still a raw and painful wound.
He must have loved Lucy very much. Turning, Maura headed for the stairs, feeling a stab of envy for Lucy, the sister she’d never known.
Maura lay awake for some time, thinking about Spencer’s wife, Lucy. The possibility of having a sibling had crossed her mind, but finding out she’d had a half sister who was now gone left her torn between feelings of joy and a deep regret that she would forever be denied the opportunity to know her.
She tried to imagine what it had been like for Lucy growing up with their father. From the little she’d gleaned from the conversation at dinner, Lucy’s parents had spoiled her.
Maura felt tears slowly trickle into her hair. It seemed so unfair. Being part of a family was all she’d ever wanted. Growing up without a father, she’d often been made to feel like an outsider.
And even now that she’d located him, there was no guarantee he’d welcome her with open arms or want to have anything to do with her. He’d had a daughter, a daughter he’d loved and lost.
Michael Carson had turned his back on Maura and her mother twenty-seven years ago. He could easily do it again.
It was with these thoughts swirling in her head that Maura finally drifted off to sleep. When she awoke, the room was in darkness and for a moment she couldn’t remember where she was.
Rolling onto her back, she stretched. A glance at the digital clock on the bedside table told her it was 4:55. She lay for several minutes enjoying the warmth and comfort of the queen-size bed.
Pushing the covers aside, she rose and went to the sliding doors. Outside on the balcony she inhaled deeply, taking in the familiar and much-loved scent of horses and hay and the outdoors.
The air was fresh and invigorating and not as chilly as it would have been had she been standing on her small front porch back in Bridlewood.
The sun was still abed but the faint glow to the east told her it would soon be making an appearance. Restless and suddenly eager to begin work with the horse she’d come to help, she decided to take a walk outside and locate the stables.
Slipping back into her room she indulged in a quick shower before dressing in her jeans and pale-blue cotton shirt. She braided her still-wet hair into one long ponytail. Out of habit Maura made up her bed and, with her riding boots in her hand, headed downstairs.
When she reached the kitchen, she came to an abrupt halt at the sight of Spencer scooping ground coffee into the automatic coffeemaker.
For a moment she was tempted to sneak away, but she wasn’t quick enough.
“Good morning. Coffee will be ready in a few minutes. Would you care to join me?”
“That would be lovely, thank you,” Maura replied politely, noting, as she came farther into the kitchen, the weary slant of his shoulders and the lines around his eyes.
“I hope you slept well,” said Spencer.
“Like a baby,” Maura replied as she crossed to the table, annoyed at the nervous flutter of her stomach. “What about you?”
“I didn’t sleep at all,” he replied, tiredness seeping into his voice. He glanced up and met her gaze head-on. “I had a few things on my mind.”
Maura felt her heart kick against her rib cage in alarm.
“Really,” she said cautiously, unsure just how she should respond. “I don’t suppose there’s anything I can do, is there?” she asked out of politeness.
Spencer switched on the coffeemaker and turned to give her his full attention.
“Actually, there is,” he said, his gaze hard and unyielding, sending a quiver of alarm racing through her. “Perhaps you can explain to me why, after turning down my invitation two months ago to come to California, you suddenly called to say you’d changed your mind?”
Chapter Three
Spencer studied Maura’s startled expression with interest. Ever since her strange and unforgettable reaction to hearing Michael Carson’s name, he’d become both wary and suspicious.
Her nervous chatter, followed by her comments on cruises, ships and holidays, had only added to his unease. For a fleeting moment she’d reminded him of Lucy, who’d been an expert at hiding the truth.
At dinner he’d deliberately brought up the subject of Michael Carson, just to see Maura’s reaction. He’d caught the flash of keen interest in her hazel eyes, as well as the sudden tension in her body. She’d held her breath, just as she was doing now.
“Cat got your tongue, red?” Spencer asked and saw annoyance and guilt war with each other in the depths of her eyes.
“I felt bad, that’s all,” Maura replied, inwardly bristling at his use of the hated nickname.
“Really?” he said, his tone telling her he didn’t for a minute believe her.
“I was rude to you that night. Afterward I regretted my outburst.” She hoped she sounded convincing. “I realized that the best way to prove how wrong your assumptions were about me was to come to California and show you just what I can do. By turning you down that night I was really punishing the horse, not you.”
Spencer laughed. The low throaty sound sent her pulse skyrocketing.
“That’s very good,” he said. “But that was two months ago. You took your time…thinking it over. Why did it take you so long to call?”
Maura glared at him. He had her over a barrel, but she wasn’t about to give in without a fight. “Look…if you don’t want my help with Indigo you should have said so when I called, that way we could have saved each other a lot of time and expense—”
Spencer heard the genuine indignation and anger in her voice, and for a moment he was tempted to believe her. In truth he wanted to believe that her only reason for coming to California was to work with his prize-winning racehorse, but he simply didn’t buy it.
He remembered vividly their encounter that night two months ago. He’d have bet money on never hearing from her again. And while he acknowledged that he really had very little to back up his sense of unease, he wasn’t a man who ignored his instincts, not anymore.
Silently he admired the spark of challenge and defiance he could see in her eyes. But if she wasn’t hiding something, why was she chewing nervously on her lower lip?
Confrontation hadn’t worked; perhaps he needed to try another approach. “I do need your help with Indigo,” he replied, deciding to bide his time, to wait and watch. “Look…I’m sorry,” he went on, and noted with some satisfaction the glint of relief that danced briefly in her eyes.
“That’s all right.” Maura brushed aside his apology and tried to ignore the way her heart flip-flopped crazily inside her chest.
His question, though not unexpected, had surprised her. But even more startling had been the fact that for a mind-numbing second, as the silence stretched between them, she’d been sorely tempted to confide in him, to tell him about her mother’s journal and her startling discovery that Michael Carson was her father.
She’d quickly quashed the impulse. In all likelihood he wouldn’t believe her. And she quickly reminded herself Spencer had been married to Lucy, Michael’s daughter. His loyalty undoubtedly lay in that direction, and if she told him the truth, he’d accuse her of lying or something equally unpleasant and send her packing before she could meet her father.
If she stayed at the Diamond Ranch, her chances of coming face-to-face with Michael Carson were much higher. With that possibility in mind, she would concentrate on Indigo and pray that her father would pay his neighbors and friends a visit.
And if in the meantime she succeeded in helping Indigo overcome his problems, she might get the added bonus of earning Spencer’s trust and respect.
“Do you still want coffee?” Spencer’s question cut into her wandering thoughts.
“Yes. Thank you.” Maura approached the counter. “Tell me more about Indigo.”
Spencer retrieved two mugs from the cupboard above the sink and filled them. He slid one mug across the counter toward her, followed by the cream jug, then leaned against the butcher block, coffee in hand.
“I bought Indigo two years ago at a sale here in the California. Since then he’s won all six races we’ve entered him in.
“Unfortunately, he’s got a thing about starting gates, and with each race he’s gotten progressively worse. At the last race two months ago the stewards came close to disqualifying him. He held up the proceedings for more than twenty minutes before they finally got him into the gate.”
“Does he react the same way when he’s being loaded into the horse van?” Maura asked.
“No. Well, at least not to the same degree,” Spencer replied. “He balks at first but after a few tries we get him loaded. Why?”
“Just curious,” she said. “When did you say he was due to race?”
“A week Saturday, at Santa Anita,” Spencer answered. “And if he refuses to enter the starting gate, disrupts or delays the race in any way, he’ll be disqualified and possibly banned from racing for life.”
Maura heard the frustration and the echo of defeat in Spencer’s voice. But she was encouraged by the fact that Indigo had been winning races even after wasting effort and energy refusing to go into the starting gate. He was obviously a gifted racer and it would be a sad day for both horse and owner if he were permanently banned from the sport.
“We don’t have much time,” Maura said. “When can I see him?” she asked, wanting not only to prove herself but also to ease the anxiety she could see on Spencer’s rugged features. “I need to get to know him and gain his trust,” she went on. “Once that’s accomplished, I should be able to figure out what’s causing him to fight the gate each time. Understanding the root of the problem often leads to a solution.”
“I sincerely hope so,” Spencer commented on a sigh. “Why don’t we head down to the stables right now?”
“I’m ready.” Maura set her near-empty mug on the counter. “I assume you have a daily schedule for all your horses. Does Indigo ride out with the rest of your string?” she asked.
“Yes,” Spencer replied. “I thought it best not to deviate from his normal training schedule.”
“Good.” Maura retrieved her boots. “What exactly have you tried so far?” She sat down and pulled them on.
“Everything from putting a blindfold on him to bribing him with food. If anything, he’s getting worse,” Spencer added in a discouraging tone.
Maura stood up. “Let’s check him out.”
Indigo was truly a magnificent animal. There was no other way to describe the chestnut Thoroughbred with the distinguishing white blaze on his nose, standing quietly in his stall.
Spencer introduced Maura to the stable hand assigned to take care of the prize-winning racehorse. Joe was preparing to give Indigo his morning rub down.
“Did Phil say anything about his ride this morning?” Spencer asked.
“Just that Indy was raring to go, as always,” Joe responded. “He sure loves to race. Phil says he has a hard time keeping Indy from going flat-out in the practice runs. He’s pretty sure Indy will win the Jane Vanderhoof Cup for four-year-olds, no problem at all.”
“Indigo will only win if we can get him to walk into that starting gate without breaking stride,” Spencer commented. “When will you be finished here, Joe?”
“Give me half an hour,” Joe replied as he prepared to enter Indigo’s stall. Inside Indigo snorted softly in greeting.
Spencer turned to Maura. “Why don’t I take you on a tour of the place? We’ll come back when he’s finished.”
Maura had seen her share of racing stables, but never one quite so well run as the Blue Diamond Ranch. Spencer ran a tight ship and, judging by the nods and greetings he gave and received from the stable hands and riders they encountered, he was also well respected by the men who worked for him.
She met Hank Wilson, the stable manager, and toured the open-air and immaculately kept stables that housed a total of twenty racehorses. Of those, Spencer and his father owned part interest in two and full interest in one, Indigo.
Spencer also showed her the stable where the family’s horses were kept, horses that were ridden mostly for pleasure, inviting her to take one out whenever she wanted, with the exception of his own mount, Lucifer.
As they made their way back to Indigo’s stall, Maura asked, “Would you be offended if I asked you not to stay? I’d prefer to get to know him in my own way and in my own time.”
In actual fact she didn’t relish the thought of having Spencer standing nearby watching her every move. She found his presence and proximity more than a little unnerving, and knew Indigo would readily pick up on her reaction.
She caught the look of indecision that flitted across his tanned face.
“Yes, I’d be offended,” Spencer began. “But I—”
“It’s just that I know you don’t wholeheartedly believe I’ll be able to do anything,” she cut in. “That translates to negative energy, and it’s been my experience that horses of Indigo’s caliber are usually highly sensitive creatures. He’s bound to pick up on that negativity.”
Spencer’s mouth curved into a smile. “You didn’t let me finish. You’re right I’m skeptical, but that’s because the stories I’ve heard about you make you out to be some kind of magician, a horse whisperer if you will.”
Maura opened her mouth to protest, but he raised a hand to stop her.
“The truth is, my back is against the wall. I’m running out of time and options, and I have nothing to lose and everything to gain by giving you a free hand. I’ll leave you to weave your…magic,” he said. “No offense intended,” he added with a grin.
A tingle of awareness shimmied through her, and Maura wondered if Spencer knew how potent was his smile.
“Thank you. I appreciate your honesty,” she said. “I’m sure any story you heard has been embellished in the telling. But I’ll be honest, too. While my methods might work with some horses, I’ve had my share of failures.
“Every situation has its challenges, every animal is unique,” Maura went on. “I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to find that…ah…magical solution for Indigo, but the sooner I get started the better.”
“Fine. I’ll leave you to it.” With a nod he turned and strode away.
Maura drew a steadying breath and turned her attention to Indigo. She opened the door of his stall and stood studying his large frame, noting with admiration his clean lines and classic bone structure.
Aware of her presence, Indigo turned his head to stare at her. One look into his eyes confirmed he was a highly intelligent animal. His natural curiosity brought him over to where she stood, and when she extended her hand, palm up, he blew on it before turning to munch on the hay in the feed basket hanging nearby.
“You are a handsome fellow and no mistake,” Maura told him, keeping her voice low. She moved inside the stall and was pleased when Indigo’s only reaction was to throw her a cursory glance and continue eating.
Maura approached him and stroked his neck, allowing him to get accustomed to her presence. After a few minutes she placed both hands on his muscled shoulder and slowly began to move down his body toward his rear, noting as she did that he pressed against her hands and away from the wall of the stall.
Maintaining the pressure, she pushed against him and felt his muscles ripple seconds before his left hind foot kicked out. Maura immediately removed her hands and stepped back. Talking softly to him, she began stroking his neck once more.
She was encouraged by the fact that neither her presence nor her actions had caused him great concern. She proceeded to conduct a few more small tests, wanting to eliminate the possibility that he was being or had been abused.
His reactions to several threatening movements gave no such indication, but when she tried a second time to push him against the wall of his stall, he became restless and agitated, a sign she immediately connected with mild claustrophobia.
She stayed for another half hour settling him down and getting him accustomed to her voice, her touch and her scent. Exiting the stall, she wandered around on her own.
At the far end of the row of horse stalls she caught sight of Spencer talking to one of the men. Not wanting to intrude, she retraced her steps and made her way through the security gates and on up the path leading to the house.
The sun had begun its steady climb into a blue sky, and the temperature was already in the sixties. On reentering the kitchen, Maura was instantly assailed with the tantalizing smell of freshly baked muffins.
“Good morning!” The greeting came from Elliot Diamond, who stood at the sink. “Help yourself to coffee,” he offered. “And there are bran muffins on the table. Did Spencer give you the grand tour?”
“Yes, he did,” Maura replied. “You have a wonderful facility here,” she said as she poured herself a cup of coffee.
“Thank you. Spencer deserves all the credit,” his father said proudly. “Ever since he took over from me ten years ago he’s put his heart and soul into the business and made it what it is today. But if you want my honest opinion, he spends far too much time working and rarely takes a break.
“His mother and I had hoped his marriage to Lucy would change all that, and I suppose for a while it did…” Elliot stopped. He turned his attention to the sink, almost as if he regretted his words.
“He must have been devastated when his wife died,” Maura commented, hoping Elliot would continue to talk about his son. Instead he changed the subject.
“I suppose you met the pride of our stable?”
“If you mean Indigo, yes. And he’s magnificent,” Maura replied, her tone sincere. “I hope I can find a way to change his behavior.”
“I wish you luck,” Elliot said dryly. “We’ve tried everything. Much as I hate to say it, I think he’s a lost cause. I doubt he’ll race again.”
“My father the optimist.” The comment came from Spencer who’d appeared at the back door.
“Sorry, Son,” Elliot said looking suitably repentant. “But you have to admit, what you need is a miracle.”
“Dad, you probably don’t realize it, but you’ve just insulted our guest.” Humor laced his voice. “I did that in Kentucky, to my cost, I might add.” He flashed a dazzling smile.
“Maura has come all this way to try to help us out,” Spencer continued. “Don’t you think we should give her our support? Besides, miracles do happen. And we’ve invested too much money in Indigo to write him off just yet.”
“You’re right,” Elliot was quick to reply. He turned to Maura. “I hope you’ll accept my apology. My comment wasn’t directed at you personally or meant as a criticism.”
“No offense taken,” she assured him with a smile.
“If you’ll excuse me,” Elliot went on. “I promised my wife I’d take her into town this morning. Maura, please make yourself at home. We find that works best around here. I’ll see you both later.” With a wave he was gone.
Maura crossed to the table and reached for one of the muffins. Breaking off a piece she popped it into her mouth.
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