Til Death Do Us Part (10 page)

“This is Benjamin Greymountain, isn't it?” Joanna had always wondered what he'd looked like, if he'd truly been as handsome as Annabelle had thought. He had been.

“Yep. That's him.”

“Where did you get—”

“My mother. When I went to see her, shortly before she died…” Pausing for a split second, he swallowed hard. His jaw tightened, then relaxed. “She gave me her grandfather's ring and this sketch of him. She told me the ring and picture went together.”

“You know Annabelle sketched this,” Joanna said. “She couldn't keep it, couldn't take it back to Virginia with her and look at it day after day.”

“What makes you think that? More than likely, she knew she'd have no use for it once she left New Mexico. She probably wanted to put her summer affair behind her.”

“That's where you're wrong.” Joanna stared down at Benjamin's image. There was the hint of a resemblance
between J.T. and his ancestor; a similarity in the eyes, in the cheekbones, in the full lips. “I knew that Annabelle had done several sketches of Benjamin. She wrote about them in her diary. She gave him one—” Joanna glanced down at the treasured portrait in her hands “—this one, as a keepsake, and she destroyed the others before she returned to Virginia. She said it was best if the only picture she had of him was the one forever etched on her heart.”

J.T. swore under his breath. Snapping her head around, Joanna glared at him. She carried the sketch over to her work desk in front of the row of windows overlooking the porch. Reverently, she laid the image of Benjamin Greymountain down on top of the desk.

“From what you just told me, I'd say your great-grandmother was quite a romantic.” J.T. hooked his thumbs under the waistband of his jeans and laid his palms flat on his hips. “She must have had a really miserable marriage to have spent so much time idealizing some summer affair she'd once had.”

“I found the diary in an old trunk in my parents' attic,” Joanna said. “I looked for things to occupy my mind after… Well, needless to say, I was intrigued by my great-grandmother's tragic love affair. Believe me, J.T., what she shared with Benjamin was far more than just some summer affair.”

“I don't see what was so damned tragic about it.” J.T. padded softly across the wooden floor, easing up behind Joanna.

She knew he was hovering over her, only inches away. And he was waiting for her to turn on him, to denounce his insensitivity. Keeping her back to him, she glided her fingertips around the edge of the sketch.

“If you're right, and they weren't deeply in love, then there was no tragedy. But if I'm right, just imagine how
they felt—how you'd feel if you'd gotten to spend only a couple of precious months with the one true love of your life.”

J.T. couldn't imagine. He'd never been in love, didn't believe in the nonsense and wished Joanna didn't. If she were less of a romantic, their relationship would have a better chance. If only she could admit that wanting each other was enough, without clouding the issue with sentimentality.

“Let's agree to disagree,” J.T. said, wanting more than anything to ease her into his arms, untie her robe and slip it off her shoulders. She had such pretty shoulders. Soft, pale skin, with a light dusting of freckles just like the freckles that dotted her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

“If you read the diary, you might change your mind.” Joanna felt his warm breath on her head. If she turned, would he take her in his arms? She pivoted slowly, facing him. “Would you like to read Annabelle's diary?”

“No, I wouldn't. And you'd be better off if you locked the thing in a drawer and forgot about it.” He touched her then. Hesitantly. Tenderly. Reaching down, he lifted her hands into his. “I want you. You want me. There's nothing wrong with that. As a matter of fact, I think it would be wrong if we denied ourselves the pleasure we can give each other.”

J.T. held their clasped hands between their bodies. When Joanna glanced down, all she saw was their matching rings, the old silver gleaming faintly in the lamplight. She was tempted. Dear God, how she was tempted. But when their affair ended, what would she have left? Memories, some inner voice told her. But her memories would be tarnished, not golden the way Annabelle's had been. Love made all the difference. It had to Annabelle. It did to Joanna.

“Would you consider making a bargain with me?” Joanna asked, wondering if she'd lost her mind even considering the proposition she was about to make.

“What sort of bargain?” Lifting her hands to his lips, he kissed each fingertip.

Joanna shivered. “You're interested in an affair. Nothing serious. Nothing permanent. You'd just like for us to become sexual partners while you're acting as my bodyguard, then when your services are no longer required, we both go our separate ways. No regrets or recriminations on either side.”

“What are you getting at?”

“I'm willing to consider what you want, to give us both a chance to see exactly what there is or isn't between us.” Joanna already knew. She'd gone and done the unforgivable. She was falling in love with J.T. How stupid could she get? She wanted tenderness, understanding, patience, and a man interested in a lifetime commitment. J.T. offered nothing she wanted—nothing except himself. And
he
was what she wanted most of all. Even if he could be a part of her life for only a few weeks.

Cocking his head to one side, J.T. grinned. “What's the catch, honey?”

“I want you to read Annabelle's diary,” Joanna said.

“You want me to do what?” He released her hands, dropping them quickly, as if her touch had burned him.

“You read Annabelle's diary, one entry at a time, and I'll give you the chance to persuade me to become your lover.”

“You're serious.” He laughed, the sound deep and hearty. “By God, you are serious.”

“Is my asking price too high?”

“Go get that damned diary!” He pulled her into his
arms, lowered his head and whispered against her lips, “I'd read a hundred diaries for the chance you're offering me.”

She shoved him away gently, then took a step backward, her hip bumping into the easel holding Elena's portrait. She grabbed the easel, steadying it.

“Not tonight. Too much has happened today. Discovering that Lenny Plott knows where I am. Having you move in with me. And knowing Mother will arrive tomorrow and start issuing orders.” Joanna groaned. “Tell me, J.T., am I making a deal with the devil? I really don't trust my own feelings. And I don't trust you at all. At least not when it comes to—” she'd been about to say
love
“—our having a physical relationship.”

“You handle things with your mother and I'll take care of Lenny Plott. You trust me to keep you safe, don't you?”

“I want to trust you completely,” she said. “I know you seem to be a man of your word, a man who keeps his promises, but I… Well, I don't know if I'll ever be able to completely trust a man again. Not after the rape. Not after Todd's desertion.”

“I'd like to be the man who teaches you to trust again,” J.T. told her. “And I'm not the devil, honey. I'm just a man. A man who's going to keep you safe. And that is a promise.”

And I'd like to be the woman who teaches you how to love,
Joanna thought, but said, “Promise me something else, J.T.”

“What?”

“Promise me that, no matter what happens, you'll try to open up your heart and your mind to your mother's people. Elena told me that you know practically nothing about the Navajo.”

“What is it with you? You want me to read Annabelle's
diary. You want me to get in touch with my Native American roots. You want to change me, Jo. I swear, a person would think you don't like the man I am now.”

“I'm not sure I do like you,” Joanna admitted. “At least, not the J. T. Blackwood you present to the world. I want to get to know the man inside you, the real J. T. Blackwood.”

“Don't kid yourself. The real J. T. Blackwood is who you see right here in front of you.”

“What I see when I look at you is only the physical, and I like that just fine. What I want to get to know is the spirit, and that's the part of you that you keep hidden from everyone. Even from yourself, I think.”

“I'll read Annabelle's damned diary.” J.T. marched across the living room, his bare feet slamming against the wooden floor. When he reached the hallway, he stopped and turned around. “And if it'll make you happy, I'll let Elena give me ‘Navajo lessons.'” J.T. grunted. “But I'm warning you that reading some old diary filled with a lot of mush and learning more about my mother's people won't change me.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” Joanna said. But in her heart she hoped that while J.T. was putting his life on the line to protect her, she could help him discover the man he really was beneath all the bitter cynicism—a man capable of giving and receiving love.

“J
OANNA'S MOTHER IS
here,” Elena called from the hallway. “Aren't you coming out to meet her?”

J.T. closed Annabelle Beaumont's diary. An odd, queasy feeling hit him in the pit of his stomach. No wonder Joanna had become so engrossed in her great-grandmother's diary. The woman certainly had a captivating way of expressing herself. And it was apparent that she had been sexually attracted to Benjamin Greymountain from the
first moment she saw him and had been determined to fight those feelings.

Placing her hands on each side of the door frame, Elena leaned into J.T.'s study and gave him a hard look. “Well, are you coming or not? I'd think you'd want to make a good impression on Joanna's mother.”

“I'll be there in a minute. Go on without me. By the time Alex escorts the senator into the house, I'll be there.”

“Joanna could use a little moral support,” Elena said. “She's waiting in the living room, pacing the floor. She really didn't want Mrs. Beaumont to come out here. When Joanna lived in Virginia, her mother tried to run her life. From what Joanna's told me, the woman is a first-class manipulator.”

“Has Mrs. Beaumont ever visited Joanna before?” J.T. asked.

“No, not once since she moved to New Mexico. Joanna goes back to Virginia two or three times every year.” Dropping her hands from the door frame, Elena stepped into J.T.'s private domain—the study that had once belonged to old John Thomas. J.T. had changed it very little, adding only the modern conveniences of a computer and a fax machine. “But Joanna's life has never been threatened before. I believe Mrs. Beaumont loves Joanna and is genuinely concerned.”

“I'm sure she is.” J.T. sat down on the edge of the huge oak desk. “But she must know Joanna wouldn't be any safer back in Richmond than she is here in Trinidad. At least, not any safer from Lenny Plott.”

“What are you not saying, big brother?”

“I don't know what Mrs. Beaumont suspects is going on between Joanna and me, but whatever it is, she doesn't like it. My guess is the senator's visit to New Mexico has
more to do with my presence in her daughter's life than with Lenny Plott's escape from prison.”

“Just what
is
going on between you and Joanna? You're my only brother and she's my best friend. You already know I'd like nothing better than to see you two get together, but… You seem to mix like oil and water.”

“If you're so interested in Joanna's relationship with me, why haven't you asked her?”

“I have asked her,” Elena admitted. “She said you were her bodyguard, and when I asked if there wasn't more to it, she said to ask you.”

Hearty laughter rumbled from J.T. Elena's eyes widened; her mouth fell open.

“Joanna and I aren't lovers. Not yet, if that's what you're asking, nosy little sister.” J.T. stood straight and tall, the remnants of a smile still on his face.

“Don't you dare hurt her.” Elena slipped her arm through her brother's. “She's very special, you know.”

“Yeah, I'm beginning to see just how special.”

J.T. led Elena out of his study and down the hall, pausing when they heard voices coming from the foyer.

“I'm almost as nervous as Joanna,” Elena said. “I want Mrs. Beaumont to like us. I've planned a wonderful dinner, in the dining room, for this evening.”

“Come on, then, let's go meet the queen bee.” J.T. hoped, for Elena's sake, that Mrs. Beaumont proved his suspicions wrong and didn't show herself to be the “just-slightly prejudiced” person she was.

When they entered the living room, they found Alex preparing Mrs. Beaumont a drink, while mother and daughter seated themselves on the sofa. Joanna glanced up, a tentative, strained smile on her face.

“Please, come and meet Mother.”

Joanna stood and held out her hand to Elena, who
rushed across the room. Helene Beaumont looked directly at J.T., who waited in the arched doorway. She sat up just a bit straighter, squaring her shoulders. When she turned her head to greet Elena, her chin-length, salt-and-pepper hair flared outward. Impeccably dressed in a neat little red designer suit, she looked every inch the wealthy, successful woman she was.

“Mother, this is Elena.” Joanna clasped her best friend's hand.

Helene lifted her hand, offering it to Elena, who accepted the older woman's firm handshake. “I'm simply delighted to meet you, my dear. Joanna just raves about you and your Alex. You can't know how pleased I was when she finally made some friends out here in this wilderness. In all honesty, I didn't think she'd end up staying out here permanently. Joanna's always been a city girl, you know.”

“Well, we've pretty much turned her into a country girl,” Elena said, her smile warm and genuine. “We're glad she decided to make Trinidad her home. Like Alex, she's found this land an inspiration for her work.”

“My, yes,” Helene said. “I'm so proud of my little girl's success. Of course, with talent like hers, she would have been a success anywhere.”

J.T. glanced down the hallway when he heard the back door open and then slam shut. Before he could go check on things, Alex called out to him.

“That's just Willie bringing in Mrs. Beaumont's luggage,” Alex said.

“Did you tell Willie where to put her things?” Elena asked.

“I'm staying here?” Helene turned to Joanna. “I thought you'd told me you had two bedrooms in your house.”

“You'll be very comfortable here with us, Mrs. Beau
mont,” Elena told their guest. “We have tons of room and if you'd like breakfast in bed, all you need to do is ask.”

“Why aren't I staying with you?” Helene tilted her sharp little chin upward, glaring at her daughter.

“Well, Mother, you see, it wouldn't be convenient. There just isn't enough room right now.”

“I'm afraid I don't understand. I took time away from my work to come out here to be with you, Joanna.” Helene glanced up, smiling at Elena and then at Alex. “As much as I appreciate the Gregorys' offer to stay here, I'd much prefer staying with you.”

“Mother, that's impossible. If you stay with me, you'd have to sleep on the sofa.”

“Why would I have to sleep on the sofa?”

J.T. strolled into the room. “You wouldn't, if you have no objections to my sharing Joanna's bed.”

Joanna sucked in a deep breath. Elena gasped. Alex covered his mouth to hide a chuckle.

“J.T. is staying in the second bedroom at my house,” Joanna said. “He moved in last night, after I received a telephone call from Lenny Plott. J.T. is going to be with me twenty-four hours a day until Plott is back behind bars.”

“I see.” Helene glowered at J.T., then quickly centered all her attention on her daughter. “If Plott knows where you are, if he's found you here in New Mexico where you thought you might be safe, there's no reason for you to refuse to come home with me.”

“Let's discuss this later. Please.” Joanna knew she would have to stand her ground with her mother or she'd be run down like a steamroller. Helene Beaumont liked things her own way, and she was happiest when she controlled the lives of everyone around her.

“Very well,” Helene said. “Perhaps, you'll stay long enough to show me to my room.”

“Here you are.” Alex handed Helene the vodka collins she had requested.

“Thank you, Alex.” She sipped her drink, then smiled with approval. “Perfect, simply perfect.”

“Mother, I'll be staying here until after dinner,” Joanna said. “Elena is preparing something special, just for you.”

“How delightful.” Helene's campaign smile returned in full force, brightening her dull gray eyes and softening her sharp features. She took another sip of her drink, then stood. “I'm dreadfully tired after my plane ride. Why don't you show me to my room, dear, and then stay and we'll have a little talk while I rest?”

Joanna grimaced, dreading the upcoming confrontation with her mother. The only time she had ever won a battle with the formidable Senator Beaumont was when she had decided to move to New Mexico four years ago.

“Dinner will be at six,” Elena said. “So there's plenty of time for a nap, if you'd like.”

Helene blessed everyone in the room with her gracious smile, even J.T. Slipping her arm through Joanna's, she held the vodka collins in her other hand. “I'm looking forward to dinner. We'll see you around six, then.”

Joanna gave Elena a pleading look, asking for her friend's understanding. Helene tugged on Joanna's arm, the action so subtle, no one else noticed.

“I'll be with Mother for a while,” Joanna told J.T. as they walked past him. “I won't leave the house.”

“I'll be close by.” J.T. looked directly at Joanna, avoiding eye contact with her mother.

The minute the Beaumont ladies were out of earshot, Alex blew out a huffing breath. “Well, well, isn't she something! I can see why Joanna doesn't want to go back to Virginia.”

“You're being unkind,” Elena said.

“Unkind, my rear end.” J.T. crossed his arms over his chest. “Instead of giving Joanna her complete support and understanding, Mrs. Beaumont is here to create problems. It's obvious she doesn't give a damn what Joanna wants, and she certainly doesn't like me.”

The corners of Elena's mouth twitched. “You deliberately baited her with that comment about sharing Joanna's bed.”

“I'm wealthy. I'm successful. I'm highly trained to protect her daughter. What could the woman possibly have against me?”

The partially formed smile on Elena's face vanished. “You're half Navajo. You think that's the reason she doesn't like you, that she's prejudiced because of your Navajo blood.”

“If the shoe fits,” Alex said, as he slipped his arm around his wife's shoulders. “Kind of makes you wish you hadn't planned such a special dinner for her tonight, doesn't it?”

“Well, no matter what, she's Joanna's mother and I'm going to be nice to her for Joanna's sake.” Elena cuddled against Alex.

“Let me know when that special dinner is ready,” J.T. said. “I'll be in my study.”

 

H
ELENE TIED THE
belt around her silk dressing gown, then sat on the edge of the bed and held open her arms to her daughter. “Come give me a hug.”

Joanna obeyed. She adored her mother—her beautiful, brilliant mother—but sometimes she didn't like her very much. Helene had been the “perfect” wife and mother, always doing what she thought best. But there had been times when Joanna had wondered how much of that “perfection” had been an expression of love and how much had been just for show. What the world thought of Helene
meant a great deal to her and she had spent her life presenting herself and her family in the very best light.

Helene hugged Joanna, released her and patted the bed beside her. “Sit with me for a while and let's talk the way we used to when you lived at home.”

Sighing, Joanna acquiesced to her mother's request and sat down on her right. “I can save us a lot of arguing back and forth. There's no need for us to have a talk. I'm not returning with you to Virginia. I'm staying here in New Mexico. This is my home now.”

“But Plott knows where you are.”

“Lenny Plott will find me wherever I am and we both know it. With his kind of money, he can buy whatever information he needs to track us down. I doubt there's a place on earth we can hide that he couldn't eventually find us.”

“What are you saying?” Reaching down, Helene covered Joanna's hand with hers.