Jefferson leaned close, murmuring something, and Santee sent a sharp glance at her before turning back to his men. He kept her waiting a few more minutes while he conferred with several people. Finally he detached himself from the group and started toward the car. He stepped from the shadow of the building, and the late-afternoon sun hit him like a spotlight.
Golden, that was the only word that came to mind. The sun tipped brown hair with gold. Even his tanned skin seemed to have a golden sheen. He covered the space between them in an unhurried, controlled stride.
Corries nerves tightened. He reminded her of a mountain lion. There was that same sense of feline grace, of muscles rippling under smooth, golden skin, of danger hidden under a shining surface.
Santee stopped a few feet from her, surveying her from top to toe. Looking for Manning family resemblance? Or just trying to intimidate her?
Ms. Grant, he said finally, his voice a lazy baritone drawl. Im Lucas Santee.
He held out his hand, and after an infinitesimal pause, Corrie took it. His fingers were warm and callused against her skin, surprising her. Surely he didnt actually work with those hands.
Guess I should say welcome to Savannah, he said. Your ancestral home, if Baxter Manning isnt making the biggest mistake of his life in believing you.
Corrie stiffened at the flash of steel under the lazy drawl. She pulled her hand away. If Mr. Manning wants to invite me here, I cant see that its any of your concern.
Santees eyebrows lifted. Anything that affects the family concerns me. Especially a con artist trying to convince a sick old man shes his long-lost granddaughter.
Somehow it sounded even more insulting in his molasses-slow drawl, though she ought to be getting used to the doubt by now. Ive told the lawyers and Mr. Manning. Now Ill tell you. I dont want anything from him.
No secret dreams of being the missing heiress, coming into all that lovely money?
Obviously the money is important to you. Not to me. I agreed to this visit to find out about my father. Nothing more.
He smiled slowly, his eyes intent on her face, as if he tried to see beneath the surface. Then we have to make sure you enjoy your time here, dont we? He took her arm, the warmth of his grip penetrating her sleeve. Jeffersons waiting, he said. Shall we go?
Corrie had expected a bigger battle, and this swift surrender took her off guard, leaving her with nothing to say. She slanted a look at Lucas Santees face as he walked beside her to the car.
No, not surrender. Round One might have ended, but behind that smooth facade Lucas Santee was gearing up for future battles. This had just been a minor skirmish.
He held the door and then slid onto the leather seat next to her. The car purred onto the street.
Corrie stared out the window, acutely aware of the man beside her. Obviously she hadnt thought this through enough. She hadnt anticipated the hostility of people who feared she was trying to take what was theirs.
She straightened, pressing her back into the cool leather. These people had had it easy all their lives. Maybe that was behind Baxter Mannings odd attitudehe wanted to expose them to the uncertainty most people lived with.
She glanced at Santee and found him watching her. His eyes were an odd shade of brown up close, with flecks of gold that made them look like amber.
Plotting your strategy? His voice was pitched for her ears only, even though Jefferson had closed the glass partition. Thinking about how youre going to worm your way into the heart of the family, so to speak?
She felt anger color her cheeks. Im not trying to convince anybody of anything.
Right. Youre willing to travel across the country to move in with people wholl hate you on sight, but youre not trying to convince anybody youre Baxter Mannings grandchild. His fingers closed around her wrist. Try that story on someone who might believe it, sugar.
Corrie stiffened. His intensity grated on her, but she wouldnt let him think he intimidated her.
Your opinion doesnt really matter, does it? she said. The only thing that matters is what Mr. Manning believes.
His grip tightened until she thought hed leave fingerprints on her skin, and fury darkened his eyes. Baxter Manning wants to think hes found an unknown grandchild, but you and I know differently, dont we?
Do we? Corrie raised her eyebrows. At least shed managed to dent that facade of his.
I dont know who you really are, Corrie Grant. But Ill find out, I promise you that.
It didnt sound like a promise. It sounded like a threat.
Hed let this woman ruffle him, Lucas realized, and that shouldnt have happened. Dealing with her was going to be a delicate matter, particularly since he hadnt been able to tell what Baxter really thought of her from their brief phone conversation.
That was typical of Baxter, of course. Hed run his companies and his family with an iron hand all his life, and he didnt intend to let advancing age or illness stop him. Hed been maddeningly vague when Lucas tried to find out what he really thought of Corrie Grant.
Take care of her, hed said. Let her see what she can find out about Trey. Thats what she says she wants to do.
Trey Manning. He had a few vague memories of Trey, the golden boy whod been a prep school athlete when Lucas had come to the Manning house as a child. Trey had been the only person whod ever successfully stood up to Baxter, and look how that had ended.
And now this woman had come, claiming to be Treys daughter. Worry gnawed at him. Baxter was too old and, he suspected, too ill to be on guard. So he had to protect the family.
The thought sent a wave of weariness over him. That had become a full-time job since Julias death, and he didnt expect it would ever end.
The car drew smoothly to the curb and stopped. He roused himself and opened the door, holding it for Corrie. Welcome to Savannah, he said again, knowing she understood how little he welcomed her.
Corrie slid onto the sidewalk and just stood for a moment, looking at the graceful sweep of steps with their glossy black wrought-iron railing. Visualizing herself owning the place, perhaps? Or feeling reluctant to go in and face what waited for her there?
This is Mr. Mannings house?
It is. He almost imagined that was a bit of awe in her clear blue eyes, but that hardly seemed likely. An accomplished fraud would surely have boned up on the place.
Maybe it was those big blue eyes that had caught Baxters attention. Trey had had the blue eyes and curling blond hair, too. But not the freckles that dusted Corries lightly tanned cheeks or the snub nose that made her look like a classic girl next door, if the girl next door happened to be a con artist.
I didnt realize She stopped, as if unwilling to share whatever she didnt realize with him.
That it was so old?
She slanted a sideways glance at him, nodding.
The house was built in 1835 in classic Regency style and restored in the early sixties when the historic district was in the midst of a wave of preservation. He launched into the familiar recital. If you lived in Savannahs historic district, you could do it in your sleep. The compound has four town houses, built around a shared courtyard. Baxter lives here, and Eulalie Ashworth, his niece, has the next one. He nodded to the adjoining house, identical in design and decor.
I see. She looked as if she were trying to take it all in. Maybe she never had been out of Wyoming. If so, Savannah was going to be a shock.
The two houses that face the alley are smaller but similar in design. My son and I live in one. The other one is rented to a family friend, Lydia Baron. He paused for an instant. That was originally Treys house.
He thought there was a small intake of breath, but otherwise she didnt react. Maybe she was tougher than she looked.
Shall we go in? He gestured to the curving stairway.
Corrie hesitated. Then, with her face wooden, she started up.
He followed, running his hand along the polished rail. He couldnt help but love introducing his city to a stranger, even an unwelcome one like Corrie. Savannah was bred in him. For all the citys faults, hed be a foreigner anywhere else.
The main floor in many of Savannahs historic homes is on the second floorthe parlor floor. The downstairs is called the garden level.
She paused in front of the glossy black door. Heavy pots of alyssum stood on either side of it, perfuming the air. I understand Mr. Manning hasnt returned yet.
Corrie, naturally, would be more concerned with the man she hoped to impress than with the decor.
Not yet. He reached past her to turn the brass knob. But Im sure some of the family is waiting to meet you.
And ready to behave, he hoped. Hed warned all of them not to give this woman any ammunition to use against them with Baxter. He could just hope theyd paid attention.
He opened the door. They stepped into the long entrance hallway, rich with the mingled aromas of polish and potpourri. Two people waited for them: Eulalie, his mother-in-law; Deidre Ashworth, his sister-in-law. He shot Deidre a warning look.
Eulalie, this is Corrie Grant. He smiled reassuringly at Eulalie, knowing she was torn between her innate Southern courtesy and her fear that Corrie would somehow supplant her two children. Corrie, this is Eulalie Ashworth, Mr. Mannings niece. Who may, or may not, be yourlets see, second cousin.
Of course she is not our cousin. Deidre took a step forward, hands curling into fists as if shed like to throw Corrie out bodily. Shes a fraud, and shes not welcome in this house.
TWO
Corrie froze for an instant. Obviously she should have been ready for direct hostility, but she wasnt. What had happened to that Southern hospitality shed heard so much about?
She stiffened her spine. Aunt Ella had taught her how to behave, and she wouldnt shame her. She held out her hand to the older of the two women, trying to manage a smile.
Eulalie Ashworth was as soft and round and fluffy as a mound of cotton candy. She also looked perplexed. She studied Corries hand as if it might be a deadly weapon and then took it. Corrie felt soft, powdery skin and smelled a whiff of lilac scent.
Welcome to Savannah Eulalie began, but the younger woman interrupted.
Shes not welcome. I dont see any reason why we should be polite.
An accusation no one could possibly make about you, Deidre. Lucas smiled, but Corrie thought his amber eyes held a warning. Corrie, this is Eulalies daughter, Deidre Ashworth.
Deidre obviously wouldnt take her hand. Her eyes flashed with anger, and her dark hair fairly sparked with electricity. Midtwenties, at a guess, she was sharp, thin, brittle and beautifully dressed.
Deidre. Mr. Manning mentioned you.
Deidre lifted arched black brows. Not calling him Grandfather already? How subtle of you.
Ive already told Lucas. Now Ill tell you. She darted a glance at Lucas. He leaned broad shoulders against the newel post of the soaring staircase, watching her with a sardonic expression. I dont want anything except to find out about my parents.
As I said, how subtle. Deidre was clearly not impressed. She swung on Lucas, as if he were to blame. Do we really have to have this creature in our house?
Deidre, please. Eulalies cheeks turned as pink as her dress. Think what Uncle Baxter would say.
Deidre glared at her mother. Uncle Baxter must have entered his second childhood. We should have him declared incompetent.
Corries head began to throb. Maybe Baxter Manning had overestimated his control over his family. If they didnt cooperate, shed find out nothing.
This is Baxters home. Lucass voice hadnt lost its lazy timbre, but there was steel underneath. Its up to him to say who stays here. And need I remind you who owns the house you live in?
For a moment the fury in Deidres face was so out of control Corrie thought shed strike him. Her hands clenched until the veins stood out. Youd take Uncle Baxters side, of course. You always do. But then, you know which side your bread is buttered on, dont you, Lucas?
If the barb hurt, Lucas didnt show it. Its common sense, Deidre, which you seem to be sadly lacking.
The side door into the hall swung open.
Grandma, is she here yet? A small figure ran into the hallway. The boy threw himself at Lucas. Is she, Daddy?
Lucas caught the child, lifting him high in the air. For an instant Lucass face was open, and the love when he looked at his son touched a surprising chord in Corrie.
Was that what she really wanted from this trip? Some sign that the father shed never known would have loved her?
Please, Lucas. Put Jason down. Eulalie fluttered toward them, hands outstretched as if to take a baby. Thats not good for him.
Not good for him? The words startled Corrie. Was something wrong with the boy? He looked like a normal six-year-old, fair and a little skinny, as active kids often were at that age.
But Lucas set him down immediately, something that might have been guilt flickering in his face. He brushed the boys silky blond hair back from his forehead gently.
Hes all right. Corrie, this is my son, Jason. Hes eight.
Corrie mentally adjusted her image of the child. He was a bit small for eight. He came forward to shake hands solemnly.
Hi, Jason. At last, someone who didnt seem to be out to get her. She smiled at him.
Hello, Cousin Corrie.
Deidre jerked as if shed been shot. Dont call her cousin, Jason. Shes not your cousin.
But Grandma said that Uncle Baxter said
Just call me Corrie, okay? She wouldnt let a child be pulled into their quarrel. Im glad to meet you, Jason.
His mother had been Deidres older sistershe knew that from the briefing the attorneys had given her. Julia, her name was. Shed died three years earlier.
Jason studied her, brown eyes grave. You dont look like a cowgirl. He sounded disappointed.
Eulalie drew in a scandalized breath, but Corrie just smiled. Cowgirl was probably the least of the things the family had been calling her.
Well, even cowgirls get a little dressed up to travel. My boots are in my luggage.
Jasons small face lit with a smile. Maybe we can go riding while youre here. My daddys a good rider. Hes won lots of ribbons.
That was an unexpected sidelight on Lucas. Hes probably better than I am, then.
Jason, you know youre not allowed to ride, Eulalie said. She frowned at Corrie, as if this were her fault.