Southern Seduction (3 page)

It seemed that Brooke’s plantation had come with a few conditions attached to it, and one of those conditions was now glaring at her across the library table.
She’d been rushed inside so quickly that she hadn’t had a chance to observe the interior of the house. They had been ushered straight into the library which acted as Travis’s study. It was dark just like the owner.

Since Travis had turned to whisper something to Mr. Jeffries
, Brooke took the moment of silence to glanced around the room, trying to get a feel for her adversary. The room was well appointed and very spacious. One wall held nothing but books. Evidently, Travis liked to read or at least he wanted to give the impression that he did. A marble fireplace was on another wall, and above the mantel hung a large oil painting of a stern-looking gentleman Brooke didn’t recognize.

The only bright spot in the room was the French doors located behind his desk.

Her gaze shifted back to her immediate problem, Travis Montgomery, as Mr. Jeffries tried to explain to Travis that Brooke had inherited half of Moss Grove, and they would be able to work everything out if he’d just listen.

“Over my dead body!” Travis shouted at Jeffries.
Travis’s eyes were cold, his expression a mask of stone as his gaze settled on her face.

“That can be arranged!” Brooke shot back at the arrogant cad she was beginning to wish she’d never laid eyes on.
Who did he think he was, shouting at her? And why hadn’t Jackson ever mentioned that he had a son? To think that she’d found him handsome, reminiscent of her prince -- this man might be a devil, instead. His profile was strong and rigid and she had a strong feeling that he never gave an inch in any argument.

“Get out of my house,” Travis said through clenched teeth, his voice strained as if he were barely controlling his temper.

Brooke sensed there was more to Travis’s rage than just her sudden appearance, but she wasn’t going to cower. Instead, she lifted her chin. “Your house?” she challenged. This man...this... this adversary didn’t know her very well -- that was stupid, he didn’t know her at all -- but if he thought his shouting was going to get her to leave, he needed to rethink his strategy. Brooke wasn’t about to be intimidated by him or any man for that matter.

“Perhaps,” she said in her perfect British accent, “you were not listening.
The plantation belongs to both of us, so you had better get used to reality,” she informed him, feeling just a little bit pleased that Mr. Montgomery didn’t have an immediate retort for her. He didn’t appear to be a man who liked to lose at anything.

Well, neither did she.

Instead, he glared at her for a long moment before turning his gaze back to Mr. Jeffries, who sat, looking completely exasperated, at the end of the table, his hands folded over the paperwork in front of him.

“I knew my father hated me . . .” Travis paused, a strange look flashing across his face. “Apparently, I didn’t know how much,” he said more or less to himself as he lowered his tall, incredibly formed body back into his chair.

The solicitor cleared his throat, before saying, “If you are both finished with your shouting match, I shall continue with the reading of Jackson’s will.” Jeffries peered over his spectacles at both of them and waited patiently for them to acquiesce.

Finally, they each gave a quick nod.

Travis shoved away from the table. “Before you continue,” he said, “I need a drink. Do you care for anything?” His question was directed toward Jeffries.

The solicitor shrugged and nodded, then turned back to his papers.

Travis started for the liquor cabinet located next to the wall when Brooke spoke, “It’s quite apparent that your father never taught you any manners either.”

Travis stopped.
Slowly, he turned around, his gaze leveling on her, anger in his eyes. “My father didn’t bother to teach me anything at all,” he retorted bitterly. He waited a moment, his brow raised a fraction, almost daring her to comment. “Would you care for something, Miss Hammond?”

Brooke smiled, only because she knew it would
irritate him further, then she said politely, “Yes, thank you very much. I would like sherry, please.” She saw the fire flash in his blue eyes just before he turned away, and she wondered what it would be like to smother that fire out and, perhaps, tame the beast.

Travis Montgomery wasn’t something she’d planned on when she’d embarked on this adventure. Not only his very existence, but the way he made her feel. He fired her blood in more ways than one. However, if he thought he was going to intimidate her, then he had better think again.

The duke had never mentioned he had children, and quite frankly, Brooke couldn’t blame Travis for being angry, not only with his father, but at her.
She knew what it was like to be shunned by a parent, but that didn’t mean Travis’s disappointment would make her give up her one great chance at happiness.

She watched him from beneath her lashes as he poured the drinks.
His white linen shirt pulled across his back when he reached for the crystal decanter. A tall man . . . taller than most, he was rough, arrogant, brash as nearly all Americans were, but so intriguing that he held her attention, which was something Brooke couldn’t say about most men.

His sun-streaked hair emphasized the darkness of his bronzed skin, and his strong features seem to draw her to him without his ever opening his mouth.
And it was not a good thing
. She didn’t want any part of Travis Montgomery. She was finished with men, especially those trying to control her.

Travis handed her a glass of sherry then took his seat.

This is more what I’d had in mind
, Brooke mused as she accepted the glass,
someone to do my fetching.

Mr. Jeffries drank his Scotch.
He looked like he needed it more than anyone. He sighed, then, once again, he gathered up the papers in front of him and began to read. “I, Jackson Montgomery, being of sound mind, do hereby bequeath my New Orleans plantation to Brooke Hammond and to my son, Travis Montgomery, equally in hopes that, together, they can run the plantation successfully. If, after one year they have not married, one of them wishes to leave the plantation, then one may buy the other out.

“It is my hope that the Montgomery name will be carried on by my heirs, therefore, my other estates will be held in a trust for the birth of my first grandson.
That’s correct, Travis. I can see your frown now. Even though I spent little time with you, I did give you my last name, and when you were grown, I provided a place for you and your mother to live. I will have you do two things: first you are to throw a party within two weeks of the reading of my will to announce Brooke Hammond to her neighbors. I wish I could give you my title, but since I was not married to your mother that is impossible. However knowing you, I’m sure you could care less about a title.

“Secondly, I want you to do the proper thing by marrying and having children so that the name Montgomery will continue forward.
Brooke will make you a perfect wife and bring the estates to you just that much faster along with money. Be nice to her.” Jefferies finished, took a deep breath, then added, “There is one exception.”

Brooke’s head jerked around.
“What?” she snapped at Mr. Jeffries. “I have no desire to marry this man or any other man. It’s simply out of the question.”

“I don’t recall asking you to marry me,” Tr
avis snapped, his words uncoiling like a whip. “It sounds more like you had my father hoodwinked,” Travis said. He jerked his gaze away from her back to the solicitor. “What was the exception that you mentioned?”

Jackson took a drink.
He looked pale. “If my son chooses to marry someone else and has a son, or his wife is expecting before or by the end of the working arrangement, then he doesn’t have to buy Brooke out. The plantation will be his alone and a small sum will be provided for Brooke to travel where she chooses to live. If there is no baby then the original buyout stands.”

“Of a
ll the sneaky underhanded deals”-- Travis shoved away from the table.-- “he knew damn well the Moss Grove cannot survive without income from his other estates. Now he wants to dictate my life to the point of when I have to produce an heir. I’m surprised that he didn’t live long enough that he could actually be in the bedroom to witness the consummation.”

“It is my opinion that Jackson hoped you’d both see things differently,” Mr. Jeffries said before Brooke could respond. “Perhaps, with a little time . . .” He
paused when he received a withering glare from Travis, but he proceeded anyway. “After all, the two of you have only just met.”

“This isn’t at all what I had in mind,” Brooke said awkwardly.
“I’ve traveled a long way to find that I might not have a home.” She cleared her throat. “I doubt that time will help anything.”

“Exactly what did you have in mind, Miss Hammond?” Travis inquired, his brow raised.
He didn’t wait for her to answer. “I’m so sorry for the inconvenience, your highness,” he continued. “How do you think I feel? It’s been my sweat that has gone into pulling this plantation out of ruins.”

Travis stood, his hands braced on the polished, cherrywood table.
He glared at her. “But I will tell you one thing, Miss Hammond. I do not intend to have you interfering with the operation of this plantation. Since my father has so conveniently tied up his money, there is nothing to fall back on. If
we
don’t make this harvest of sugarcane a success, then I--we will lose Moss Grove, and you’ll be part owner of nothing. Do I make myself clear?”

It was as if he’d thrown ice water in her face
, snapping her out of her stupor. Brooke shoved her chair back so quickly it teetered on two legs. She shot him a cold look. “Perfectly!” she spat. “Now, let me tell you something. You might not like this any more than I do, but I intend to make the best of this untenable situation by making this harvest a success.”

He sneered.
“And what do you know about sugarcane?”

“Not much,” Brooke admitted when she really wanted to say,
That it’s a hell of a lot sweeter than you!
“But I can learn.”

“Then you had better learn fast, Miss Hammond, because harvest time is upon us.”

“It’s Mrs. Hammond,” Brooke informed him, the lie rolling easily off her tongue with ease.

He lifted a brow in surprise. “And where is Mr. Hammond? Or do I still have more surprises to come?”

“Dead, I’m afraid,” Brooke answered quickly, her eyes cutting to Mr. Jeffries to see if he’d dispute what he knew wasn’t true.
Back on the ship, Brooke had decided the minute she sailed from the English shores that she’d pose as a widow, so she wouldn’t have to explain why she was no longer virgin, if and when the time came.

Brooke noticed that Travis didn’t bother to express his condolences, but she was quickly learning that the exasperating man was nothing like the Englishmen she’d known.
It appeared as if he wasn’t going to say anything at all. Apparently, he was waiting for her to speak first. Fine. She’d make an attempt at being pleasant.

“Since we are partners, Travis, why don’t you call me by my given name, Brooke.”
He was beginning to make “Miss Hammond” sound like a swear word.

“That would mean we were friends, Mrs. Hammond,” Travis said, then dismissed her completely by turning his attention to Mr. Jeffries.
“My father didn’t know, but I’m engaged to be married. My fiancée and my mother have traveled north to buy Hesione’s trousseau.”

“So that’s where all the plantation money went,” Brooke concluded accusingly.

Travis glared at her as if he couldn’t believe that she’d dared to interrupt him. Was his fiancée a meek little mouse who jumped at the chance to please him? “Not that it’s any of your concern, but Hesione comes from a very wealthy Creole family is therefore very wealthy on her own part. However, what money I have isn’t enough to pull the plantation through another bad year.”

He swung back to Jeffries. “As I was saying, we can be married upon her return, and I’m sure an heir will be forthcoming.”

Over my dead body
! Brooke wanted to shout, but she held her tongue instead. She had been startled by Travis’s marriage announcement. She was hoping for some kind of working relationship with the ill-tempered man. It seemed that there were obstacles to surmount everywhere she turned.

However, this fiancée made matters even more urgent.
As soon as what’s-her-name returned, Brooke had no doubt that Travis would move quickly to marry the woman. She wondered if he really loved this person, or just her money. Brooke couldn't imagine him in love with anyone. He seemed too cold, almost dead on the inside.

Of course, Brooke had sworn to herself that she would never marry, but if marriage meant keeping the home she’d just been given, then she would have to reconsider the situation because she had nowhere to go.
And she certainly didn’t wish to take up the profession she’d left so far behind her. This plantation was her hope, her salvation, and her future.

Brooke wasn’t sure how she was going to accomplish the task, but somehow she had to seduce Travis into marrying her before his intended returned.
Of course, she had skills and knowledge in the ways to seduce men, but if Travis was truly committed to Hesione, she would have a difficult task of it.