One Touch of Topaz (17 page)

“I’m completely well.” His lips brushed her forehead. “And you, Samantha?”

“Getting fat.” She drew back to look into his face. “And very happy to see you. Have you seen Paco?”

He nodded. “He’s still in Bridgetown waiting for me to get back with the final word from Bronson.”

Her brow knitted in bewilderment. “What word?”

Richardo’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t know?”

“Evidently I don’t. What is there to know?”

He shrugged. “I thought he would have told you. But perhaps not. He’s a difficult man to try to anticipate.”

“Ricardo, what on earth are you talking about? And why did Fletch have you flown here from Barbados without telling me?”

“The Rivera faction is giving him problems. He thought I might be able to tip the balance his way.” He pulled a face. “He says he needs my image. I think he means to
promote
me.”

“Ricardo.” She released her breath with exasperation. “Tell me, blast it. What’s happening?”

“The revolution,” he said simply. “The same lyrics but a different melody, brilliantly orchestrated by one Fletcher Bronson.”

“What?” she asked faintly. Her knees felt
suddenly weak, and she took a step back to half lean, half sit against the Sheraton desk. “The revolution is over. We were beaten.”

“That’s what I thought.” Ricardo’s ebony eyes were suddenly glowing in his bronze face. “Until Bronson contacted me when I was in the hospital in Barbados. I couldn’t believe it. It was a miracle.”

“Fletch is very good at performing miracles,” she murmured. “But this one would have to be on a grand scale.”

“I don’t think he knows how to operate on any other level,” Ricardo said dryly. “He informed me that I had bungled the entire revolution, but he thought he could put it right if I placed myself in his hands.”

“That sounds like Fletch. Are you going to do it?”

“I already have. Why do you think I’m here? Fletcher says that a revolution, like everything else, takes two things: money and clout. For the past five months he’s been wheeling and dealing on both sides of the Atlantic to acquire enormous reserves of
both. According to him, all I have to supply is my humble self as the figurehead and he’ll do the rest.” He slowly shook his head. “Your husband is quite a man,
querida.”

“Yes, I know.” Her head was whirling. Why had Fletch done this? And why hadn’t he told her?

“Did he tell you why—” She stopped. Ricardo was shaking his head. “Nothing?”

“I thought you might have converted him to the cause.” He shrugged. “That refinery he owns on St. Pierre certainly wouldn’t be worth all this effort.”

“I’ve never discussed St. Pierre with him.”

“Then I’m as much in the dark as you are.” Ricardo frowned. “And I don’t like to be uncertain of the motives of a man like Fletcher Bronson. There’s too much at stake. Can I trust him, Samantha?”

“Yes,” she answered unequivocally.

His face cleared and he smiled gently. “That’s good. I’m glad you have such faith in him. I was very worried when you wrote me about your marriage. I thought you’d
rushed into it too quickly after leaving St. Pierre. So many things could have driven you to him. Fear, exhaustion, uncertainty about the future …” He took a step forward and touched her cheek with his index finger. “But there is love,
querida?”

“There is love,” she answered softly. “So much love.”

“Ah, now I feel better.” He kissed her lightly on the tip of the nose. “About my friend and about my revolution. You have always had impeccable judgment in men, or you would not hold me in such affection.” He stepped back. “And now I’d better have the good Mr. Brennen take me back to Paris to see your husband. One mustn’t irritate one’s benefactors.” He grinned impishly. “You see how wonderfully diplomatic I’m becoming? Bronson would be proud of his figurehead.”

“Knowing you, it won’t last. But I’ll be proud of you whether you’re diplomatic or not. You have a meeting with Rivera today?”

He shook his head. “Not until tomorrow.
I was just paying a courtesy call to Bronson before going to my hotel.”

“Hotel? But you’ll stay here, of course.”

He shook his head. “I’m staying at the InterContinental. Bronson says that will be more convenient for the meeting with Rivera.”

“Perhaps it would be more practical,” she said doubtfully. “But I still wish …” Her face brightened. “Well, if I can’t have you here, I’ll steal you away for a little while now. You can see Fletch later. I want to show you my atelier and introduce you to Monsieur Dalbert, my teacher. Then we’ll see a few sights together. Stay here, I’ll be right back, as soon as I shower and change.” She turned toward the door. “Ring if you’d like a drink.”

“Samantha, I should really go to your husband’s office first.”

She hesitated as she opened the door. He was probably right. Fletch was never pleased about having his plans disrupted, but she wanted this time with Ricardo. Not
only because she cared about him but also because he would be a bulwark to keep her from thinking about this secrecy of Fletch’s. She would be a nervous wreck if she had to wait until Fletch came home that evening to get to the bottom of this business. She looked over her shoulder at Ricardo. “I’ll tell Skip to call him and tell him I’ve kidnapped you.” Her eyes twinkled. “Don’t worry, I won’t endanger your revolution. What could a few hours matter?”

He shook his head with an indulgent smile. “None, I suppose. I hope you’re planning on taking me somewhere outrageously expensive, as befits your consequence. I’ll enjoy watching our little Topaz play the grande dame.”

She made a face. “If it will amuse you, I’ll try. Though I have an idea I’ll make an awful fool of myself. There are more pitfalls on this terrain than there were in the rain forests, Ricardo.”

“And you’ll learn to avoid them just as
you did the ones on St. Pierre.” He smiled. “Fletcher Bronson is an excellent guide.”

Her face lit with tenderness. “Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, he is.” She turned. “I promise I won’t be more than fifteen minutes.”

The door closed softly behind her.

T
HE FRONT DOOR
slammed with an explosive crash. “Skip!”

Skip flinched and braced himself before rising from the easy chair and moving reluctantly toward the door leading to the foyer. He might as well get it over with, he thought gloomily. He had been expecting Fletch since he had heard the phone disconnect over an hour ago. It would do no good to try to avoid the confrontation. “Here, Fletch.”

Fletch strode into the study and slammed that door too. “Is she back yet?”

“She left only an hour and a half ago.” Skip tried to make his tone soothing. He might just as well have tried to pour a cup of water on an erupting Mt. Vesuvius.

“She wouldn’t have left at all if you’d done what you were supposed to do.” Fletch crossed the room and poured himself a whiskey at the portable bar. “Who the hell told you to bring Lazaro here?”

“He did. He wanted to see Topaz.”

Fletch’s hand tightened on the glass. “Her name is Samantha, and I didn’t bring him across the ocean to see my wife.”

“For Pete’s sake, Fletch, what difference does it make? He would have seen her sometime before he left Paris.”

“Not if you hadn’t interfered. She wouldn’t even have known he was here.”

Skip blinked. “You didn’t intend to tell her Lazaro was in Paris?”

“You’re damn right I didn’t.” Fletch finished his drink in two swallows and poured himself another. “Not yet.”

Skip shook his head. “That doesn’t
make sense. They’re very close friends. You couldn’t have kept them apart if they were in the same city. How did you think you could pull it off?”

“A whirlwind flurry of conferences and an equally fast dash to the airport for him.” Fletch turned away from the bar and threw himself into the wing chair by the desk. “I would have managed if you hadn’t acted on your own and brought him here.”

“I didn’t know you considered it important to keep them apart,” Skip said quietly. “And I still don’t see why you’re so upset about Top—Samantha renewing her acquaintance with Lazaro.”

“Because I knew she—” Fletch broke off. “Take my word for it, you made a mistake. A big mistake.”

“Then I’m sorry. Is there anything I can do to make amends?” One corner of Skip’s lips lifted in a lopsided grin. “I could hop in the car and see if I could find them.”

“In a city the size of Paris?” Fletch wearily shook his head. “No way. Besides, the harm
is done now. I’ll just have to wait and see how the chips fall. Did she say when she’d be back?”

“She expected to be out for the rest of the day.” Skip’s expression was troubled as he gazed at Fletch’s face. He had never seen him like this. He had expected anger but not this sharp edge of desperation. “Fletch …”

Fletch closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the cushioned headrest. “It’s okay, Skip. Maybe you did the right thing. Who the hell knows?”

“Listen, I don’t know what you’re worried about,” Skip said hesitantly. “But Samantha is pretty special. You can trust her.”

“I know I can trust her.”

“Then why are you worried?”

“I’m not worried.” Fletch’s lids lifted, and a shock ran through Skip at what he saw there. “I’m scared to death.”

________

“Fletch, I’m home. Are you here?”

Samantha closed the front door and tossed her purse on the chair by the door. Lord, she wanted Fletch to be home. A strange excitement had been growing within her all afternoon. All the time she had been with Ricardo she had been conscious of it but had resolutely ignored it. It was almost as if she had been afraid to acknowledge that there might be a reason for its existence. That there might be the possibility that the time had—

“Have you had dinner?” Fletch was standing in the doorway of the study, gazing at her with a blank expression. She experienced a sinking disappointment until she noticed the leashed tension that corded every muscle in his large body.

She nodded. “I dropped Ricardo off at his hotel and we ate in one of the hotel dining rooms.” She smiled. “This time I’m the one who didn’t come home in time for dinner. Perhaps I should have brought
you
Gypsy violinists and champagne from Maxim’s.”

“I’m not in the mood for Gypsy violinists, I’m afraid.” His gaze was narrowed on her face. “I guess you and Lazaro had time to talk over old times. You were gone all afternoon.”

She nodded as she walked toward him. “Yes, we did.”

His eyes became wary. “And did you talk about the future too?”

“A little.” She stopped before him. “Why didn’t you tell me what you and Ricardo were planning?”

“Because I didn’t want you to know,” he said curtly. “And you wouldn’t have known if Skip hadn’t pulled the blunder of the century. You wouldn’t even have been aware that Lazaro was in Paris.”

Her eyes widened. “You wouldn’t have told me?”

“No way.”

“But why?” She laughed uncertainly. “It’s not reasonable to—”

“That’s what Skip said,” he replied, interrupting. “Of course, it’s not reasonable.
When have I ever been reasonable where you were concerned? I didn’t want you to see Lazaro, dammit.”

A tiny burst of happiness unfolded within her. “Why? You couldn’t possibly have been jealous?”

“It wasn’t jealousy.” He scowled. “Well, not altogether. I can’t say I like you spending time with a man who’s as good-looking as Tom Cruise. I guess I’m pretty territorial.”

“You are?” Her voice was breathless, the excitement expanding, growing in leaps and bounds. “But you know Ricardo is only my friend.”

“That doesn’t help much when I look in the mirror and compare his face with this rough mug of mine.” He shrugged. “But I can face that kind of competition. I trust you, and besides, I’m not about to let any man take you away from me now. I’d find some way of getting rid of him.”

The brutal flatness of the words sent a shiver through her. “Then why weren’t you going to tell me that Ricardo was here?”

“It wasn’t Lazaro that scared me; it was St. Pierre. You’re not going back there, Samantha.” His gaze was fixed on her face with compelling power. “When Lazaro returns to the island to launch the revolution, you’re not going to be with him. Do you hear me? I won’t have it.”

“If you feel that strongly about it, why did you become involved in trying to breathe life into Ricardo’s cause?”

“It’s certainly not because I’m a bloody idealist like Lazaro,” he said quickly. “Those blasted Marxists stole my refinery.”

The beginning of a smile touched her lips. “I don’t think that’s the reason. Even an idealist like Ricardo realized that the refinery wasn’t worth your launching another revolution to reclaim it.”

“Did he? Maybe he has more common sense than I thought.”

“He’s not just a pretty face. Why are you doing this, Fletch?” she asked softly.

“I don’t like thieves, I don’t like seeing political prisoners who look like skeletons, I
don’t like knowing a place like the Abbey exists.” His eyes met hers. “And I don’t like to know that the men who killed your father and gave you six years of hell are living high on the hog in their little island paradise. I’m going to take it away from them and see that they burn in hell.”

She gazed at him, stunned. “You’re going to start a revolution over
me?”

“No, I—” He stopped and nodded curtly. “Why not? I can’t think of a better reason.”

She laughed shakily. “I never imagined I’d ever be the kind of woman who would launch a thousand ships.”

“I’d launch a million ships.” He took a step closer, his hands grasping her shoulders, holding her gaze intently. “I’ll get those bastards for you, Samantha. You don’t have to go back there. Trust me.” His words were soft, urgent. “They don’t need you. This will be a different kind of war, fought mainly with power and economic clout. I know that battlefield better than you. Let me fight for you.”

She gazed up at him, mesmerized by the force of his words and the hope they were building within her. “Why? Why is it so important to you?”

“Why?” he exploded, his hands tightening on her shoulders. “Why do you think? Because I’m scared silly you’re going to go back there and starve in a cave. Because I’m terrified you’re going to be captured or shot. Because I can’t live without you now, you idiotic woman.”