Winter Bride (9780345546197) Read Free Page B

don’t understand.”
    “He not only had his precious painting, he had the real Winter Bride.” His movements were charged with barely contained violence as he strode across the room and threw himself in a chair. “Where the hell did he find you?”
    “San Miguel.”
    “The island off the coast of South America?”
    “Yes.”
    “You’re a citizen of San Miguel?”
    “My mother was a citizen, my father was American.” She made an impatient gesture. “This has no importance. Can’t we talk about why I’ve asked you to come here?”
    “It’s important to me.” He touched his fingertips together in a Confucius-like gesture that should have looked serene; it didn’t. “I find everything about this bizarre relationship between you and my father completely fascinating.” His gaze ran over her. “My Lord, you look like someone from
A Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur’s Court
. Did it titillate him to see you like this?”
    She didn’t answer.
    “I’m sure it did. Seven years … How old are you now?”
    “I can’t see how—twenty-three.”
    His gaze shifted to the painting. “Practically a child bride. You must have looked even more like her then.”
    “Yes, I did.”
    “How lucky for you.”
    “Yes.”
    “And how long did it take my father to persuade you to join him in wedded bliss after you met?”
    She didn’t answer.
    “How long?”
    “Three days.”
    He threw back his head and laughed. “You obviously weren’t as shy and retiring as our Winter Bride.”
    “I really don’t wish to talk about it.” She squared her shoulders. “You’re clearly as obsessed with thepainting as your father was, but I don’t have to deal with your idiosyncracies.”
    “Oh, but you do.” His hands dropped to the arms of the chair. “Because you want something from me just as you wanted something from my father. Why else am I here?”
    He was right, she thought wearily. She needed him, and she had learned no one gave something for nothing. She had been prepared to pay, but she had not thought about what price would be demanded. She drew a deep steady breath and tried to wrap her usual cloak of serenity over her inner turbulence. “You’re quite right, of course, Mr. Corbin. I do want something from you.”
    “Jed,” he corrected. “After all, we’re family, aren’t we? Whatever it is you want, I’d judge you want it very badly, indeed.”
    She nodded. “Yes.”
    “You shouldn’t admit that to me. It weakens your bargaining position.”
    “You’d probably see through me anyway.” She added simply, “I’m not clever about this sort of thing.”
    His expression changed in some undefinable way. “I’m not as gullible as Townsend. You’re not going to convince me you’re helpless and ineffective.” He grimaced as he glanced down at his lower body. “I have painful evidence to the contrary.”
    “I’m not helpless. I can protect myself.”
    “Oh yes.”
    “But that doesn’t mean I’m capable of manipulation. I believe in being as straightforward as possible. It makes life much simpler.”
    “And were you straightforward with my father?”
    “Absolutely.”
    “Interesting.”
    “You don’t believe me?”
    “As a matter of fact, I do.” He smiled faintly. “I don’t want to believe you, but I’ve done too many in-depth interviews not to spot a lie when I see one.”
    “Why don’t you want to believe me?” Then she answered the question herself. “You resent me.” Her brow wrinkled as she tried to puzzle it out. “You and your father had no liking for each other so you can’t resent the fact you think I married him for his money.”
    “I would have been delighted if you’d taken him for every stock in his portfolio and sent him reeling to skid row.”
    “I see.”
    “No, you don’t. What was between me and my father was complicated. It took me years to understand it.”
    “But I had nothing to do with the argument between you. Why do you—”
    “Don’t look for