Promises to Keep Page 3

  'Your sister's dead,' Logan said in a harsh implacable voice, not taking his eyes off her as the car came to a stop outside the front door. 'I won't let her come between us—not now, not ever. Later we'll talk about her. This isn't the time or the place. We'll be married tomorrow— I've already got the licence.' He patted his pocket and a small smile hovered at the corners of his mouth. 'This is your home now. I've told the housekeeper we're already married, so when you see her, don't be surprised if she calls you Mrs Ramsey.'

  Kathryn's jaw dropped. 'How— You can't force me, Logan. I won't marry you!'

  Grim determination settled in his eyes. 'Don't be too sure about that. When I want something, I never give up until it's mine. Surely you remember that much about me?'

  'I won't be one of your possessions,' she said with a shiver, remembering when she had been his secretary how he was able to use his charm and keen wits whenever his money failed to bring the desired results in his lumber business. 'You'll never own me. I have a mind and a will of my own.'

  His laugh was full of arrogant sureness when he walked around to the other side of his car, opening her door with an exaggerated bow. 'You know I'll wear you down in the end. All these years of searching for you have taught me infinite patience. Your mind and your will may be your own, but everything else about you belongs to me. You're mine, Kathryn!'

  Since it was so late, no one greeted them when they entered the house. Only a small brass lamp burning on an elegant claw-footed table in the entrance hall gave any evidence that they were expected. Logan led her up a wide curving staircase thickly carpeted in a pale shade of muted green. On the light panelled walls, large gilt-framed portraits watched their silent progress. All along the hallway, she was conscious of small tables holding expensive sculpture in marble, bronze and wood. Here, too, were magnificent oil paintings, Italian masters, but Logan's firm silent strides on the thick carpet carried him past them all without a second glance. He stopped outside an ornate wooden door and waited for Kathryn to catch up to him before he pushed it open.

  This bedroom was at the front of the house overlooking the front lawn with its circular drive. It was large and airy and the subtle pastel shades of ivory and gilt furniture made the room seem even larger than it was. A French Provincial four-poster bed covered with a delicate ivory satin spread was at one end with several gilt-edged chairs and intricately carved chests scattered comfortably about the rest of the room. There were sparkling crystal bottles on a dainty dressing table, and she knew they must contain expensive perfumes.

  Without a word, Logan set her suitcase on the floor before his glittering gaze rested on her profile. Kathryn turned away nervously and picked up one of the crystal containers. Her nose wrinkled in surprise at the unmistakable scent of Shalimar, and she remembered him once telling her he preferred the lighter floral scent she used to wear when they were dating to the more heavy exotic ones other women favoured. She wondered whose room this was, but kept silent, not trusting herself to say anything.

  'I want you to be happy here,' he said quietly enough, but his tone was cold and authoritative. 'The bathroom is through that door.' He pointed in the general direction to his right. 'Beyond it is my room. Have a bath, if you like—there's plenty of hot water. And try to rest. Tomorrow will be a busy day.'

  He waited a moment as if he expected her to comment, but she still didn't trust herself to speak, and he turned away with a grim tightening of his lips, nodding briefly, and left her.

  A pale Aubusson carpet silenced her footsteps when she walked to the long windows and pushed aside the filmy ivory draperies to look outside to the green perfection of the lawn dappled in rainy moonlight. A deep shudder passed over her and, resting her forehead against the cool gleaming glass, she bit back a sudden sob and tried to shake off a sudden nervousness.

  What was she doing here? Logan had tricked her and now he thought she was trapped. Her head spun. Carol might have been able to make herself at home in such opulent surroundings, but this was no place for Kathryn. She could never be at home in a mansion filled with expensive furnishings that must have cost the earth. It belonged to Logan Ramsey, the wealthy lumber man who appreciated its worth and took it for granted.

  There was a time when she thought her world and his could mesh, but she had been so very young and idealistic then. At nineteen she had thought love could overcome the obstacle of their different backgrounds, but that was before he had betrayed her and married her sister three months later. Her eyes were wide open now. She was just an ordinary person, unsophisticated but full of integrity. Something inside her refused to be forced to stay here with no say in the matter. She had her dignity to maintain, and her pride, which was no small thing.

  She went over the things she knew about Logan. He was thirty-five years old, handsome, shrewd, intelligent, dangerously charming and very wealthy. But the blindness of love was removed now, and all those qualities didn't add up to someone she wanted to spend the rest of her life with. Somehow she would find a way to leave, and it wouldn't be a cowardly flight in the middle of the night like last time…

  It was early when she woke the next morning. In spite of a restless tossing and turning, she managed to sleep for several hours, knowing she would need it if she was going to leave here on her own two feet. A slight tinkling sound disturbed her and she thought she heard a dog barking in the far distance. She was lying on her stomach with her face buried in her arms when she felt she was not alone in the room. She flicked open one eye before turning over and sitting up with a jerk.

  A small, extremely thin boy dressed in well worn gym shoes, blue jeans, and a bright blue sweat shirt stood by the side of her bed, idly fingering the stopper of one of the crystal bottles that had been on the dressing table. He studied her intently with big solemn blue eyes that were exactly like Logan's. He didn't smile. For a long moment he just continued to stare at her. When he did speak, she was stunned by what he said.

  'Are you my mom?' he asked quite seriously.

  Kathryn drew her breath in sharply, but when she didn't answer him, he went on: 'My dad said he was going to find my mom and bring her back here to live with us. Are you her?'

  'You're—Jon?' came the strangled whisper.

  He nodded slowly, looking down at the perfume bottle in his tiny hands. 'My name's Jonathan, but everybody calls me Jon. This is pretty, isn't it? Is it yours?'

  'It's very pretty, but I don't know who it belongs to. Your father didn't tell me.'

  A slight movement at the doorway caught her eye and she turned to see Logan standing there with a quiet dignity. Formally dressed but looking very much at ease in a charcoal grey suit with a brilliant white shirt and much lighter grey satin tie, he walked in as if he had every right. 'It was your grandmother's, like everything else in here, Jon,' he said coolly, ruffling the boy's shining black hair. He took the bottle and set it back on the table. 'Your mother prefers perfume that makes us think of summer sunshine and wildflowers.'

  Jon's head immediately swivelled back to Kathryn. 'Then you are my mother!' In an instant he scrambled on to the bed and flung himself into her arms. 'Oh, I'm so glad!' His bear hug nearly choked her before he loosened his grip and knelt beside her, keeping his arms around her neck. His eyes were flashing and his whole thin face altered with a brilliant smile spreading from ear to ear. 'My dad told me you were beautiful, but I was afraid he didn't really mean it. You are! Just as beautiful as he said!'

  A hectic wild red blush filled Kathryn's face. He was such a charmer, so innocent, so trusting, so ready to accept whatever his father told him. But he was not her child; he was Carol's. She couldn't be his mother. Anger bubbled up in her throat, but she was forced to swallow it back. No matter what she said it would hurt him.

  'Jon, will you go and tell Mrs Gresham your mother's awake and we'll be down to breakfast in just a few minutes?' Logan said quietly with an engaging smile. 'I want to say good morning to your mother and then I'll be right down.' He lifted his son off t
he bed and watched him race out of the door.

  When they were alone, Kathryn threw him a furious look. A deep flush was still on her face and her bright blue eyes flashed with anger. 'You don't play fair! How could you say things like that to him?'

  'All's fair—' he began to quote.

  '—We know this isn't love,' she broke in bitterly, 'so it must be war.'

  Logan flicked a smouldering look at her sitting in the bed in a spotless white nightgown with tiny wildflowers she had embroidered at the edge of the square neck and at the wrists of the long sleeves. Her long black hair was caught back and threaded with a narrow faded blue ribbon, making her look young and vulnerable. 'You aren't dressed for war,' he said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed beside her, 'but you are dressed for—'

  'Don't!'

  A ghost of a satisfied smile flickered in his eyes. He bent closer to her. 'Ah, my innocent love, you're still mine. I've often wondered if there'd been anyone. But seeing you here, blushing furiously in your chaste white nightgown while I sit so close, I have my answer. You're mine. You were always mine. And now Jon, because he's my son, has a claim on you too.'

  'No!' she cried harshly. 'He's Carol's son. I can't be his mother. Carol was your wife—I won't take her place!'

  There was a disquieting glitter in his eyes. 'Jon knows about Carol. Even though he's not yet five, he's old enough to know. I told him she died a week after he was born. I also told him about you.' He got to his feet and walked with jerky steps up and down the room, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. His face was inscrutable when he swung back to her. 'You're the only woman I ever wanted to be the mother of my children, Kathryn. You'll be my wife—the kind of wife Carol never was.'

  'I don't believe I'm hearing this,' she said in desperation. 'How can you say such things now that she's dead and can't defend herself? Whatever we might have had is over. It has to be. Can't you see that? When it came right down to it, you chose her.'

  'I didn't choose! She was—there.' He dragged his hands roughly through his hair. 'It's not over between us. It was never over. I've gone to a lot of trouble to find you and I won't let you leave me again.'

  'Carol will always be between us.'

  Logan turned abruptly and walked to the window, brooding at the thunder clouds forming low in the sky. 'Carol and I shared the Ramsey name and wealth. Nothing else mattered to her.'

  Kathryn breathed in harshly. 'You shared a son.'

  He didn't turn back to look at her for a long time, but when he finally did, his eyes were bleak. His face was a peculiar grey and she had the distinct impression he was struggling with himself. He started to say something, then stopped as if he couldn't really find the right words. He studied her face, then lifted his shoulders in a resigned shrug. 'I won't allow her to come between us, Kathryn. Jon needs you. He's the most important one right now. These are the formative years of his life. You've seen him. He's so solemn and quiet. He's a lot older than his years, and that's not good. He's never known what it's like to have a mother love him— and believe me, that can be a terrible thing.' His face twisted as if he was remembering something unpleasant but it quickly passed. 'You can change all that. He—likes you. It was an instinctive thing, it wasn't put on.'

  She glared at him. 'You're using your son, Logan! Haven't you any scruples?'

  His face was blank for a moment, then he began to smile. 'Drastic situations call for drastic measures. You love children. I watched you for days at the nursery school—I knew that was the only way I could reach you. Come on, admit it. You won't disappoint Jon. He's finally going to have the mother I've always wanted for him.' His eyes gleamed like quicksilver as he crossed the room and reached out to tuck a soft black curl behind her ear.

  It was an intimate gesture that made the heat rush to her face and her heart pound in her ears. She slid off the bed and stood facing him from the opposite side of it. 'I'm his aunt. If you want me to care for him, all right, I'll do it. But don't ask me to step into Carol's shoes and be your wife.'

  His indulgent smile turned into a scowl. 'That really sticks in your throat, doesn't it? Well, it sticks in mine too. I'd like to forget she ever existed, and from the things I've heard about how she ran you ragged with her demands when you both were growing up, I'd imagine you would too. Let's put her behind us. She's gone. Let her stay in the past.'

  Kathryn lifted her chin and squared her shoulders. There was a cold dignity in the way she stood facing him. 'You really are heartless, aren't you? Carol had your son. That's something you can't change.'

  'Oh, but I can.' Logan swiftly came around the bed, trapping her against the wall, gripping her shoulders, bringing her face close to his. 'You're Jon's mother now—because I say so. And you'll be my wife in a few hours—because a judge says so. He happens to be a friend of mine and we've pulled some strings to make it all legal. You— are—mine!'

  'I can't be your wife. You can't ask that of me!' Too much had happened, and she could never forgive him.

  He shook her and his voice was ragged. 'I'm not asking. That's already behind us. I asked you five years ago and you said yes. But you don't have to worry that I'll force myself on you. I've never yet taken an unwilling woman and I don't intend to start with you. I told you, one thing I've learned in my search for you is patience. You're going to come to me freely, when the time is right. That's the only way it can be. I know you still love me, even though you won't admit it to yourself yet, and I'm content to wait until you do.' He let her go then and walked to the door with firm unhurried strides. 'Wear something pretty today,' he added. 'This is a day all brides wish to remember, isn't it?'

  It was a day Kathryn would much rather forget. She was being manipulated, and everything inside her rebelled. There had to be some way out of this mess. Logan might think he had everything under control, but she'd show him how wrong he was!

  Half an hour later, Jon stood waiting for her at the bottom of the wide staircase and led her to the breakfast room, where he proudly introduced her to Mrs Gresham, their housekeeper.

  'Here she is,' he said with a grin. 'My mom!'

  Emma Gresham, a rosy round woman with silvery hair styled in soft waves, extended her hand and beamed at Kathryn. 'I'm so glad you're here, Mrs Ramsey. Jon's been a regular magpie this morning. I'm absolutely astounded by the change in him!'

  Kathryn frowned slightly, shaking her hand before looking at Jon. He grinned up at her and pressed close to her side, slipping his tiny hand into hers without the least sign of selfconsciousness.

  Mrs Gresham's watery eyes sparkled and her body shook with mirth. 'See what I mean? He was always so solemn and quiet before. Kept to himself, mostly. Never could get him to say more than two words at a time, most days. And he wouldn't let anyone touch him either. Now look at him! He's actually holding your hand and he hasn't stopped grinning this past half hour.' She ruffled Jon's hair and patted his bony shoulders in a goodnatured way and gave Kathryn another beaming smile of welcome, then started towards the kitchen. 'And that's the first time I ever remember him not flinching when I ruffled his hair. Breakfast is almost ready. Now I suppose Jon will have a good appetite too, to go along with all the other sudden changes,' she grinned. 'Make yourself at home, Mrs Ramsey. I'll be back in a minute.'

  Kathryn seated herself at the massive round table and Jon pulled his heavy chair quite close to hers, looking up expectantly. She gave him an uncertain smile, resenting the feeling that somehow she had just lost another battle. Logan was not alone any more. Now there were two of them tugging at her heart, and it wasn't fair! Abruptly, she turned away and her eyes travelled nervously around the room.

  It was long and wide and shining, even with the boiling grey clouds closing in against the windows. Someone had placed a small bowl of wildflowers in the centre of the table and the delicate colour of their petals was a stark contrast to the heavy ivory damask tablecloth and glittering crystal and silver there. The walls were panelled in limed oak and bright gold curtains with h
eavy valances glinted at the long windows, matching the thick golden-toned Oriental carpet on the floor. It could have been a cheerful room, but the ponderous furniture was crowded and oppressive. The table was too big, the chairs too heavy. It was almost as if whoever had decorated this room was determined to flaunt the fact that money was no object. Only the flowers were out of place. And then she realised they were made of silk and Jon was looking at her mischievously.

  'I brought them in from the other room because they're pretty and they're like the ones on your nightgown.'

  Kathryn's throat closed up and she felt a dangerous tug at her heartstrings. 'Thank you, Jon. That was really very thoughtful of you.' Her voice wobbled and she began to blink rapidly. 'This is a big house, isn't it?' she rushed to change the subject. 'Er—how do you manage to remember your way around?'

  'It's awfully big, isn't it?'

  She laughed helplessly. 'I'm afraid I'd get lost without a map!'

  His little face was suddenly serious. 'If you ever do get lost, I'll find you.' And then after a small stretching silence he said: 'My dad told me it took him five years to find you. You won't ever go away again, will you?'

  She caught her breath sharply and lifted her chin. Thin shards of ice shuddered down her spine and then she spotted Logan standing in the doorway watching her, as intent on her answer as Jon was. Her eyes clashed with his for a screaming moment. Damn him! How could he put his son up to this?

  'Your dad told you that?' she breathed, still looking at Logan.

  Jon nodded and kept his solemn eyes on her face as it rapidly lost all its colour. 'He said your sister died, but he was going to find you and bring you back to see me some day. He said—he said—' He swallowed hard and struggled to his feet, shaking all over.

  Helplessly, Kathryn put her arms right around him, holding him tightly against her, absorbing his shudders until his rigid little body began to relax.