Heart of Thunder by Johanna Lindsey
“Who?”
“My husband!”
“Good Lord,” Sheldon exclaimed. “She slammed the door on him, Wilkes. Can you imagine what the poor man must think of us?”
“No, sir,” Wilkes replied drily.
“Well, let him in, man. We’re keeping him standing out there in the cold.”
Chapter 40
“YOU cannot hide up here forever, Sam.”
“Yes, I can. And I shall.”
Froilana shook her head sternly. “Your brother has invited him to stay. You must face him sometime.”
“No.”
“But the novia has come, and they are holding dinner for you.”
“Tell them not to.”
“Madre de Dios,” Froilana said in exasperation, her hands on her hips. “You wish your husband to think you a coward? You shame yourself and your brother, as well. How will the señor explain to his novia?”
“He’ll think of something.” Even as Samantha said it, she sighed angrily. “Oh, all right! Damn! I’d rather face him than listen to you all night. But you’ll wish you hadn’t forced me to go down there, Lana,” she warned. “My absence won’t shame my brother as much as my presence will. I can’t be in a room with Hank without losing my temper.”
Her maid chose that time to become silent.
Samantha entered the drawing room ready for a fight, aching for one. But with one look at Hank, all the words she had rehearsed took flight. She wasn’t even aware of all the eyes turned her way, or of her brother’s relief. She missed the surprise on Teresa’s face. Sheldon hadn’t warned Teresa of his sister’s condition. Jean Merimée was there, but she saw only Hank.
He looked strikingly handsome, his hair combed back on each side and curling down to his neckline, his face clean-shaven, his dimples deep as he grinned, his eyes sparkling in that special way. He was dressed in formal elegance, the black dinner jacket setting off a burgundy vest and white silk shirt with diamond-studded buttons. Fine clothes suited Hank.
Samantha became fully aware of her own appearance the moment Hank’s eyes left her face and moved down to her large belly. She blurted out the first thing she could think of.
“So, Sheldon, where is your novia?”
“Here.”
Samantha turned toward the sound of his voice, tearing her eyes from Hank’s. “Yes, of course.” She crossed to Sheldon and greeted the young Spanish woman by his side.
Samantha was struck by her beauty, the dark, liquid eyes, the almost blue-black hair coiled and tucked behind a short mantilla. She had a strikingly sensual face, with full, rounded lips, feline brows, and high, narrow cheekbones.
“Teresa.” Samantha blushed. “You must forgive me. I have not seen my husband for a very long time.”
“That was—evidente,” Teresa replied with some difficulty, before she turned to Jean and switched to Spanish. “Dearest, explain to this one that I am not familiar with her language yet. I doubt I will ever grasp their vulgar English.”
“You wish me to tell her that?” Jean asked, obviously aghast.
“No, dearest, just—”
“That will not be necessary,” Samantha cut in in Spanish. “You will not need a translator with me as you do with my brother.”
Teresa’s mouth formed a small O, and her olive complexion brightened, but she recovered quickly. “I am sorry, Samantia. I meant no disrespect.”
Samantha smiled, but there was no warmth in her eyes as she looked at Jean, whom her brother’s intended had addressed so intimately. Teresa was lovely, but Samantha was less prepared to like her. She had to wonder if Sheldon was so fortunate after all.
“You must not give it another thought, Teresa,” Samantha said congenially, managing to keep her smile fixed. “My brother mentioned that you are learning English. You really should study harder. It pays to know what others are saying—especially when they are talking about you.”
Jean Merimée moved uncomfortably, and Teresa stepped closer to Sheldon, as if making a point. “I quite agree.”
“Would it be too much to ask for a little English?” Sheldon ventured.
“Of course,” Samantha replied sweetly. “I was just telling your novia that she and I must get better acquainted. After all, you’ve told me so little about her, Sheldon.”
At that moment Wilkes announced dinner, and Sheldon almost sighed with relief. “Shall we? Jean, if you would be so kind.” He turned Teresa over to the short Frenchman who escorted her from the room.
Samantha stared after them, thinking that Jean Merimée was what was called a ladies’ man. Dashing, debonair, he was not quite handsome, yet there was an appeal about him, probably because of his remarkable blue eyes. Samantha had disliked him the first time she met him, and she still did. He had made a pass at her, and after she rebuffed him, she had watched him move smoothly to another woman and make the same overture. To hear him and Teresa talking as if they were the engaged couple…
“What is he doing here?” Samantha asked Sheldon, nodding toward Jean.
“He was good enough to escort Teresa here.”
“You trust him alone with her?”
“Of course,” Sheldon gasped indignantly. “He is one of my counselors. And he is a very close friend, as well, Samantha.”
“Close to whom?” she muttered.
“Samantha,” Sheldon implored, not really hearing, “I must ask you to behave for the rest of the evening. Gad, you haven’t even spoken to your husband yet.”
“Nor do I intend to,” she said so casually that he didn’t know what to reply.
Quickly, he approached Hank and Lorenzo, who were across the room. “Mr. Chavez, Mr. Vallarta, if you will join us?”
Samantha watched Hank’s leg as he walked forward, but there was nothing wrong with it, not even a limp. With that concern out of the way, she gave him a chilling look before taking Lorenzo’s arm and walking with him.
“So, amigo.” She smiled, determined to put Hank out of her mind. “Have I finally learned your last name?”
“Sí, I am now proud to bear it.”
“May I take that to mean you have given up your lawless ways?” she teased, in a strange, reckless mood.
Lorenzo grinned and nodded. “I am completely respectable now. Your husband pays me well, now that he is rich.”
“I’ll thank you not to mention him if you wish to continue this conversation,” she replied sharply.
“Ah, Sam.” He chuckled. “You have not changed. Most women in your condition are serene. But you are still the little spitfire, eh? Shall I tell you what he did when I explained why you slammed the door on us?”
“How could you explain?” she retorted. “You couldn’t possibly know why.”
“Ah, but I do. You did not want him to see you in your present condition.”
“Nonsense,” she said calmly enough. “I just didn’t want to see him, that’s all.” She waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t, she demanded, “Well, what did he do when you told him I was as big as a cow?”
“I did not put it that way.”
“Lorenzo!”
“He laughed,” said Lorenzo.
Samantha stiffened. “He would! Yes, he would.”
“You misunderstand, Sam,” Lorenzo hastily assured her. “He is delighted.”
“Of course!” she hissed. “He was so damn sure this would happen. Now he can gloat.”
“I tell you he is happy that he will be a father,” Lorenzo insisted. “I know him well, Sam, perhaps better than you do. I am not mistaken in this.”
“I don’t care what you think, Lorenzo. I know differently. Didn’t he say I should watch for him in six or seven months? You gave me that message yourself. Well, it’s been seven months. Why do you think I came here? So he wouldn’t find me. So he wouldn’t know. But he came anyway—and didn’t I warn you not to speak of him to me?”
As soon as they entered the dining room, she left Lorenzo’s side. She was furious. So Hank had laughed? D
Samantha sat down in a huff, but almost got up to leave when Hank took the seat on her right. The table was huge, and there were six empty seats, yet he sat next to her.
Fortunately, dinner was served the moment Sheldon took his seat at the head of the table. Samantha concentrated on her plate. It gave her the chance to gather herself, to put anger aside and consider what Hank’s presence here really meant.
The conversation around her broke into Samantha’s thoughts. Lorenzo, across from her, was describing Mexico to Jean Merimée. But it was her brother’s words to Teresa that caught Samantha’s attention.
“…and ten years passed rather quickly. This is the first visit she has made in all that time.”
“Then she was no here when you dear abuela die?” Teresa ventured.
“Abuela?”
“Grandmother,” she explained.
“Oh, no, Samantha was not here then.”
“A pity. She was such a fine woman, so kind.”
Samantha almost choked. For the moment, Hank was forgotten as she looked aghast at Teresa Palacio, and then turned questioningly to her brother.
“Is she talking about our grandmother, Sheldon?”
“Yes. Teresa tells me she met her several years ago, long before she met me.”
“She was a wonderful woman,” Teresa added, her dark brown eyes on Samantha. “It was my pleasure to know her before she die.”
“Henrietta Blackstone?”
“Sí.”
Samantha was surprised, to say the least, but decided to give Teresa the benefit of the doubt. “Sheldon, you should have written to me, to tell me that grandmother mellowed in her old age. Then I might have come back to make amends.”
Sheldon cleared his throat awkwardly. “Actually, my dear, there was no mellowing, not that I could see. Nor did she…well…she never—”
“Forgave me for going to America?” Samantha supplied with a grin.
“I wouldn’t have put it so bluntly,” Sheldon returned with a warning look.
“You never do.”
“So this is why you were disinherited?” Teresa asked pointedly.
Samantha wanted to laugh as Sheldon’s dark scowl turned from her to his blunt bride-to-be.
“How did you know?” Samantha asked. “I find it hard to believe that my brother spoke of my being disinherited.”
“You abuela spoke of you to me,” Teresa explained. “Not Sheldon.”
Samantha sat back, eyeing the slightly older woman across from her. She was finding it difficult to believe what Teresa was saying. Henrietta Blackstone, a kind, wonderful woman? That description was so laughable it was ridiculous. And that her grandmother should talk about her to a stranger when she had sworn never to speak Samantha’s name again? But why would Teresa lie?
“It’s true, of course, that I was disinherited,” Samantha admitted without any inflection in her tone. “My grandmother and I never agreed on anything. She disowned me when I chose to live with my father, rather than stay with her. It’s something I have never regretted doing.”
“Then you do not regret your loss?”
“It didn’t matter to me. My father isn’t poor, Teresa. I have everything I could possibly want.”
“She also has a rich husband,” Jean put in suddenly.
Samantha turned to Hank and saw him shrug.
“My husband’s wealth is irrelevant, Monsieur Meriméer.” Samantha’s gaze was coolly disdainful. “And I do believe this subject is in rather poor taste.”
“Forgive me, Samantia,” Teresa said contritely. Her demure smile lacked even a measure of remorse. “I worry you begrudge your hermano his inheritance. It is no good to have envy in a family.”
Samantha was speechless. And she had expected to rile her brother with bluntness! He sat staring at Teresa, his mouth a tight line, his eyes furious. He must be making every effort not to show his emotions, Samantha thought.
“Your concern for my sister’s feelings is…touching, Teresa,” Sheldon commented after the uncomfortable silence. “But you needn’t have worried. Her first-born child receives half of the Blackstone estate.”
“What?” Teresa demanded, her voice just a bit anxious.
Samantha looked at her sharply. Jean Merimée appeared disturbed, as well.
“I do not understand, Sheldon,” Jean said. “Your grandmother’s will, I handled it myself. There was no mention—”
“No, there wasn’t.” Sheldon cut him off drily. “But there wasn’t any reason for you to know about my grandfather’s will, which you did not handle. He was not as stubborn as his wife. He would not see his only granddaughter cut off completely, so he made provision for her through her children. My grandmother never knew.”
Samantha repressed her grin, wanting to applaud her brother. He had coolly ruffled a few feathers and was satisfied with releasing his anger in this way. Now he was as calm and composed as ever. How did he do it? Perhaps she could learn from her brother.
She should have been furious that she hadn’t known of this sooner, but somehow she wasn’t. Still, she couldn’t resist baiting Sheldon a little.
“Is this one of those little tidbits you like to wait until the last moment to reveal, Sheldon dear?” Samantha asked sweetly. “I’m surprised you let this one out before my firstborn arrived.”
Her taunt scored. She received a quelling look from Sheldon but ignored it. She devoted her attention to her plate once more.
“Why do you purposely anger your brother?”
She had heard that deep voice so often in her dreams. Samantha wouldn’t look at him. She steeled herself.
“That’s none of your business.”
“Look at me, little one.” Hank spoke softly in Spanish, so near she could feel his warm breath by her ear.
She couldn’t stand it. She rose stiffly, made her excuses graciously, and left the room. Her condition allowed for an early exit. She wouldn’t have been able to bear hearing one more word in that soft, persuasive voice. She couldn’t talk to him, not yet. She wanted to hit him, to scream at him—to kiss him. Damn him!
Chapter 41
HANK opened the bedroom door without knocking, but instantly regretted the impulse to barge in. Samantha was in the process of being undressed, and the look she turned on him was murderous. The girl attending her quickly pulled Samantha’s gown back down to cover her, then stepped back, wide-eyed.
“Forgive me, Sam,” Hank offered lamely.
Of course, Samantha wasn’t having any of it. “Forgive you? After you come in here uninvited, knowing you’re not welcome? How dare you?”
“I could say I have every right to enter my wife’s bedroom,” Hank replied coldly, and Samantha drew in her breath sharply. “You start in on me about your husbandly rights, and I’ll divorce you so fast you won’t know what happened!”
“This is your husband?” Froilana gasped, drawing Samantha’s angry attention.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t see him earlier, Lana, when my brother invited him in. You told me yourself what happened between them.”
“But I did not actually see. I was at the top of the stairs. I only overheard them talking. Caramba!” Froilana exclaimed in fascination. “How can you be angry with one so handsome?”
Hank chuckled, and Samantha cringed. “Oh, Lord,” she said. “If you find him so irresistible, Lana, you can have him. Just get him the hell out of my room first!”
“I would be glad to have him,” the girl said shamelessly, “but I think it is you he wants.”
“You’re impossible! Just get out, both of you,” Samantha shouted in exasperation. “Dejadme!”
“Go on, chica,” Hank said persuasively to Froilana. “Let me have a few minutes alone with her.”
“Don’t you dare, Lana!” Samantha snapped, but the girl looked from her to Hank, then grinned and left the room, closing the door after her.
Samantha wanted to scream, to throw something, but she knew better than to exert her
“I suppose you think it’s amusing that you won her over like that?”
“Considering I never had such luck with you, yes, it was very amusing.”
Emerald eyes flashed. “Well, you can just turn around and follow her out that door.”
“We will talk first.”
“No we won’t! I know exactly what you have to say, but I don’t have to listen to it. I’ll scream first. This isn’t the mountains, Hank. Someone will come.”
“You would cause a scene?”
“Yes,” she replied stonily. “I’ve been through enough. I’ll have you thrown out before I stand here and listen to you gloat.”
“Gloat?”
“Spare me the innocent look,” she said derisively. “You came here to say I told you so. There—I’ve said it for you. Now will you get out of here?”
Hank shook his head. “You remember too much of the past, gatita. You should forget the unpleasantness, as I have tried to do.”
“Forget!” Her eyes widened in amazement. “I remember everything. Everything, Hank!”
“I wish you did not.” He sighed deeply. “Ah, Samina, I hoped it would be different. I did not come here for what you suggest. I came only to ask you a question.”
She was skeptical, but he seemed so genuine, so sincere.
“What question?”
“I wish to know why you did not seek the vengeance you swore you would have. You had the chance.”
Samantha stared hard at him, bewildered. “You came all this way just to ask me that?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Ask Lorenzo. He will tell you how this has bothered me. It was not like you to give up,” he said. “Did you pity me?”
“Pity?” she laughed, amazed. “How could I pity you? You got everything you wanted, and now you’re rich.”
“You could have had me arrested, thrown into prison,” he went on. “You could have left me to your father’s men that night. Instead you took me to a doctor. You took my side against your father. Why?”