Нора Робертс - Courting Catherine

“Incredible.” The wind ruffled his hair as he followed the passage, down another flight, up one more. From here it was the Atlantic, wild and windy and wonderful. The sound of her ceaseless war on the rocks below echoed up like thunder.

He could see that there were doors leading back in at various intervals, but he wasn't interested in the interior just now. Someone, one of the family, he imagined, had set out chairs, tables, potted plants. Trent looked out over the roof of the pergola, to the tumbling rocks below.

“Spectacular.” He turned to C.C. “Do you get used to it?”

She moved her shoulders. “No. You just get territorial.” “Understandable. I'm surprised any of you spend time inside.”

With her hands still tucked in her pockets, she joined him at the wall. “It's not just the view. It's the fact that your family, generations of them, stood here. Just as the house has stood here, through time and wind and fire.” Her face softened as she looked down. “The children are home.”

Trent looked down to see two small figures race across the lawn toward the

pergola. The sound of their laughter carried lightly on the wind.

“Alex and Jenny,” she explained. “My sister Su-zanna's children. They've stood here, too.” She turned to him. “That means something.”

“How does their mother feel about the sale?”

She looked away then as worry and guilt and frustration fought for control. “I'm sure you'll ask her yourself. But if you pressure her.” Her head whipped around, hair flying. “If you pressure her in any way, you'll answer to me. I won't see her manipulated again.”

“I have no intention of manipulating anyone.”

She gave a bark of bitter laughter. “Men like you make a career out of manipulation. If you think you've happened across four helpless women, Mr. St. James, think again. The Calhouns can take care of themselves, and take care of their own.”

“Undoubtedly, particularly if your sisters are as obnoxious as you.”

C.C.'s eyes narrowed, her hands fisted. She would have moved in then and there for the kill, but her name was murmured quietly behind her.

Trent saw a woman step through one of the doors. She was as tall as C.C., but willowy, with a fragile aura that kicked Trent's protective instincts into gear before he was aware of it. Her hair was a pale and lustrous blond that waved to her shoulders. Her eyes were the deep blue of a midsummer sky and seemed calm and serene until you looked closer and saw the heartbreak beneath.

Despite the difference in coloring, there was a resemblance—the shape of the face and eyes and mouth—that made Trent certain he was meeting one of C.C.'s sisters.

“Suzanna.” C.C. moved between her sister and Trent, as if to shield. Suzanna's mouth curved, a look that was both amused and impatient.

“Aunt Coco asked me to come up.” She laid a hand on C.C.'s arm, soothing her protector. “You must be Mr. St. James.”

“Yes.” He accepted her offered hand and was surprised to find it hard and callused and strong.

“I'm Suzanna Calhoun Dumont. You'll be staying with us for a few days?” “Yes. Your aunt was kind enough to invite me.”

“Shrewd enough,” Suzanna corrected with a smile as she put an arm around her sister. “I take it C.C.'s given you a partial tour.”

“A fascinating one.”

“I'll be glad to continue it from here.” Her fingers pressed lightly but with clear meaning into C.C.'s arm. “Aunt Coco could use some help downstairs.”

“He doesn't need to see any more now,” C.C. argued. “You look tired.”

“Not a bit. But I will be if Aunt Coco sends me all over the house looking for the Wedgwood turkey platter.”

“All right then.” She sent Trent a last, fulminating glance. “We aren't finished.”

“Not by a long shot,” he agreed, and smiled to himself as she slammed back inside. “Your sister has quite an...outgoing personality.”

“She's a fire-eater,” Suzanna said. “We all are, given the right circumstances. The Calhoun curse.” She glanced over at the sound of her children laughing. “This isn't an easy decision, Mr. St. James, one way or the other. Nor is it, for any of us, a business one.”

“I've gathered that. For me it has to be a business one.”

She knew too well that for some men business came first, and last. “Then I suppose we'd better take it one step at a time.” She opened the door that C.C. had slammed shut. “Why don't I show you where you'll be staying?”

“So, what's he like?” Lilah Calhoun crossed her long legs, anchoring her ankles on one arm of the couch and pillowing her head on the other. The half-dozen bracelets on her arm jingled as she gestured toward C.C. “Honey, I've told you, screwing your face up that way causes nothing but wrinkles and bad vibes.”

“If you don't want me to screw my face up, don't ask me about him.”

“Okay, I'll ask Suzanna.” She shifted her sea-green eyes toward her older sister. “Let's have it.”

“Attractive, well mannered and intelligent.”

“So's a cocker spaniel,” Lilah put in, and sighed. “And here I was hoping for a pit bull. How long do we get to keep him?”

“Aunt Coco's a little vague on the particulars.” Suzanna sent both of her sisters an amused look. “Which means she's not saying.”

“Mandy might be able to pry something out of her.” Lilah wiggled her bare toes and shut her eyes. She was the kind of woman who felt there was something intrinsically wrong with anyone who stretched out on a couch and didn't nap. “Suze, have the kids been through here today?”

“Only ten or fifteen times. Why?” “I think I'm lying on a fire engine.”

“I think we ought to get rid of him.” C.C. rose and, to keep her restless hands busy, began to lay a fire.

“Suzanna said you already tried to throw him off the parapet.”

“No,” Suzanna corrected. “I said I stopped her before she thought to throw him off the parapet.” She rose to hand C.C. the fireplace matches she'd forgotten. “And while I agree it's awkward to have him here while we're all so undecided, it's done. The least we can do is give him a chance to say his piece.”

“Always the peacemaker,” Lilah said sleepily, and missed Suzanna's quick wince. “Well, it might be a moot point now that he's gone through the place. My guess is that he'll be making some clever excuse and zooming back to Boston.”

“The sooner the better,” C.C. muttered, watching the flames begin to lick at the apple wood.

“I've been dismissed,” Amanda announced. She hurried into the room as she hurried everywhere. Pushing a hand through her chin-length honey

brown hair, she perched on the arm of a chair. “She's not talking, either.” Amanda's busy hands tugged at the hem of her trim business suit. “But I know she's up to something, something more than real estate transactions.”

“Aunt Coco's always up to something.” Suzanna moved automatically to the old Belker cabinet to pour her sister a glass of mineral water. “She's happiest when she's scheming.”

“That may be true. Thanks,” she added, taking the glass. “But I get nervous when I can't get past her guard.” Thoughtful, she sipped, then swept her gaze over her sisters. “She's using the Limoges china.”

“The Limoges?” Lilah pushed up on her elbows. “We haven't used that since Suzanna's engagement party.” And could have bitten her tongue. “Sorry.”

“Don't be silly.” Suzanna brushed the apology away. “She hasn't entertained much in the past couple of years. I'm sure she's missed it. She's probably just excited to have company.”

“He's not company,” C.C. put in. “He's nothing but a pain in the—”

“Mr. St. James.” Suzanna rose quickly, cutting off the finale of her sister's opinion.

“Trent, please.” He smiled at her, then with some wryness at C.C.

It was quite a tableau, he thought, and had enjoyed it for perhaps a minute before Suzanna had seen him in the doorway. The Calhoun women together, and separately, made a picture any man still breathing had to appreciate. Long, lean and leggy, they sat, stood or sprawled around the room.

Suzanna stood with her back to the window, so that the last lights of the spring evening haloed around her hair. He would have said she was relaxed but for that trace of sadness in her eyes.

The one on the sofa was definitely relaxed—and all but asleep. She wore a long, flowered skirt that reached almost to her bare feet and regarded him through dreamy amused eyes as she pushed back a curling mass of waistlength red hair.

Another sat perched on the arm of a chair as if he would spring up and into action at the sound of a bell only she could hear. Sleek, slick and professional, he thought at first glance. Her eyes weren't dreamy or sad, but simply calculating.

Then there was C.C. She'd been sitting on the stone hearth, chin on her hands, brooding like some modern-day Cinderella. But she had risen quickly, defensively, he noted, to stand poker straight with the fire behind her. This wasn't a woman who would sit patiently for a prince to fit a glass

slipper on her foot.

He imagined she'd kick him smartly in the shins or somewhere more painful if he attempted it.

“Ladies,” he said, but his eyes were on C.C. without him even being aware of it. He couldn't resist the slight nod in her direction. “Catherine.”

“Let me introduce you,” Suzanna said quickly. “Trenton St. James, my sisters, Amanda and Lilah. Why don't I fix you a drink while you—”

The rest of the offer was drowned out by a war whoop and storming feet. Like twin whirlwinds, Alex and Jenny barreled into the room. It was Trent's misfortune that he happened to be standing in the line of fire. They slammed into him like two missiles and sent him tumbling to the couch on top of Lilah.