“’Fraid you can’t,” Claire said, swinging the vehicle out onto the Interstate. “She felt better, and wanted to see her Dad, so she went to London. You probably passed her midair.”
“Went to-” Randall echoed in a hollow voice. His cherished picture of freedom took a knock. “You mean I’ve got to run the place?” he demanded, aghast.
“Don’t worry,” Claire said coolly. “Nobody’s going to let you get your hands on anything important. We’ve got Frank, who’s a great foreman. He and I will take care of things.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
He was puzzled by her barely concealed hostility. Puzzled but not surprised. Claire had scowled at him when she was a kid, and she was still scowling at him, in a manner of speaking.
Claire was an orphan, raised on the ranch since she was a week old. She was devoted to the land, to her foster parents and above all to Gabe.
Randall glanced sideways, trying to get some idea of how she’d turned out. It was hard, even though she’d tossed her hat aside. Her hair was a rich dark red that might have been attractive if she hadn’t scraped it back so that it lay against her skull with a kind of fierceness. Her skin had the pale porcelain look often found in redheads, and her eyes were a vivid blue. She might have been lovely if she hadn’t seemed determined to squeeze every ounce of femininity out of her appearance.
“Have a good flight, Lord Stanton?” she asked.
“I’m not Lord Stanton,” Randall explained. “That’s my grandfather, the earl. I’m Lord Randall, but can’t you forget that stuff and just called me Randall?”
“Not much point in being a lord then.”
“That’s right.”
“Don’t suppose you remember us much?”
“Well, twelve years is a long time, but I recall how lovely the scenery was. ’Course, that was summer.”
“You warm enough? I’ve got another sheepskin coat in the back.”
“Thank you, but I’m well provided.” He added, slightly nettled, “We do have winter in England, you know.”
“Not like a Montana winter,” she said.
“All I know is that Gabe was bellyaching about the cold when I left.”
“How is Gabe?”
“Apart from the weather he seemed cheerful enough, certain he’s going to knock their eyes out in Devon and show them all how to do it.”
She didn’t answer. Her gaze was fixed on the road, for which Randall was grateful. It was lucky that the Interstate was almost empty, since Claire drove as though she owned every inch.
They were higher now, on the mountain pass, going east into Shields Valley. The great range rose around them, the air so clear that it seemed as if he could touch the peaks, although he knew they were far away.
Just as England was far away, he thought, and all the normal burdens of his life. And right now, that suited him fine. He leaned back in his seat with a sigh of pleasure.
Claire heard it and cast him a sideways glance of disapproval. Everything about him annoyed her, starting with the fact that he looked so much like his cousin. He had the same lofty figure, except that where Gabe was tall and rangy, Randall was tall and elegant. He also had hair of exactly the same shade of brown, plus lean, handsome features that were heartbreakingly like Gabe’s.
Only he wasn’t Gabe. And that was the worst crime of all.
This was the day Gabe should have come home, greeting her with a shout of welcome, smiling into her eyes, and then-oh, please-then realising that she was the girl he’d loved all the time.
Instead she was stuck with this snooty English aristocrat, with his lofty air and his smooth voice, who thought he could just walk into the place. Run the ranch? Who did he think he was?
She knew she wasn’t at her best just now. She ought to have managed a more convincing welcome. After all, it wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t Gabe.
Hell, yes it was!
“So what’s my big brother up to?” she asked, trying to sound cheerfully casual. “Why’s he staying in England? He told me something on the phone, but I couldn’t make head nor tail of it.”
Randall grinned. “He created a trap and walked into it himself.”
“What does that mean?”
“He got worked up on my account, told the old man I was working too hard and I ought to take a break instead of going to Devon. Next thing, Earl challenged him to take my place, and it was too late for Gabe to back down. You know what he’s like. Big mouth. Boy, is he in for a shock!”
In the pause that followed he was sure he could hear Claire grinding her teeth.
“Great,” she said at last. “Just great. Did anyone-including Gabe-stop to think that he’s needed here?”
“Does Gabe ever stop to think?” Randall riposted. “I remember last time I was here, he and I went a bit mad. Got ferried home by the sheriff more than once. It was always his ideas that landed us in trouble.”
“That’s right, blame him!”
“Blame?” Randall echoed hilariously. “You mean credit. He’d be mad as fire if he didn’t get his due. Funny how women never seem to understand things like that.”
He couldn’t have said anything worse. Memories of that miserable summer flooded back to Claire: herself, twelve years old, hero-worshiping Gabe as she’d done since she was old enough to understand the world and her own place in it.
He was her savior, her idol, her god. Her childhood had been spent trotting after him, running his errands, happy when he talked to her, blissful if he deigned to spend time with her. And always dreaming that next year she would be old enough for him to notice her.
And then his cousin from England had come visiting, and immediately they had been as thick as thieves.
They’d spent all their time together doing things that excluded a twelve-year-old girl. Worst of all, they’d become “blood brothers,” in what Randall, ignorant like all Englishmen, thought of as the traditional Indian manner.
One memory was especially sharp: overhearing Gabe say, “Don’t tell that pest Claire about this. She’d only lecture us about ‘Hollywood fantasies.”’
That night she’d cried herself to sleep. “That pest” was bad enough, but worse, far worse, was “Don’t tell her-” Randall had gotten closer to Gabe than herself.
Now here he was again, keeping Gabe from her, sharing secrets with him, shutting her out. He’d been the enemy then and he was the enemy now.
Darkness was falling fast, causing the mountains to retreat into the gloom. Soon they were past and the plain stretched ahead. Without taking her eyes from the road, Claire said, “Gabe told me you were bringing something special-a gift to the ranch, he said, but he wouldn’t tell me what.”
“That’s right. It’s back there.”
“Are you going to tell me?”
Randall hesitated. This wasn’t the time or the place that he would have chosen. “Gabe was boasting about his herd of Herefords, so I started boasting about Rex. He’s my prize Hereford
