William St. Claire spied Noelle through the crowd, and immediately his gaze went to the tall young man beside her. He closed the briefcase on his lap and studied the man with an eye trained by years in trial law. He saw strength—both physical and mental—determination, and unmistakable possession of Noelle.
Noelle clung to his arm, limping slightly, no doubt the injury Myron mentioned. And, by her expression, this would not be easy. She was no longer a child, and she’d set her heart on Richard Spencer. That much was clear.
He rose to meet them, gathered Noelle into his arms, and felt his resolve momentarily shaken. What right had he to change her course? He’d done his best to safeguard her future. But wasn’t that future hers to choose?
No. Not yet. Not until she’d heard him out. And certainly not until her escort had. He held her out from him and turned to the young man.
Noelle said, “Daddy, this is Rick Spencer.”
“The someone you wanted me to meet.”
Rick held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure, sir.”
The handshake was firm and confident, as he’d expected. Eye contact, direct but non-confrontational. William could be equally direct. “I’d like to know the nature of your relationship with my daughter.”
“With your permission, I intend to marry her.”
Honest, yet diffident. “And without it?”
He straightened. “I’d prefer it with.”
William almost smiled. That was as polite an “in your face” as he had received in a long time. He turned to Noelle. “It seems you have a lot to explain.”
“Do I?” She’d never been so blatantly defiant. There was something undefinable in her eyes. Anger? Hurt? Blame? For what?
Rick said, “Do you have luggage, Mr. St. Claire?”
“No. I’ll be flying back tonight.” With Noelle if he had his way.
“Tonight?” She seemed surprised. She must know his purpose.
“Yes, tonight. Unlike my gypsy daughter, I’m not at leisure to go traipsing about the country. I came at your request alone.”
“Then come and see the ranch.” She took his arm.
William allowed her to lead him to the tan-colored Dodge Ram, not new by any stretch. Rick stayed silent as he drove, but William wasn’t fooled. He was a determined young man.
Noelle pointed. “Around this bend is the town, Juniper Falls.”
William scanned the little town, then the snow-packed road up the mountainside. Rick’s truck handled it, and they stopped in the yard. William climbed out. The ranch spread out around them, spacious, well maintained. He looked at Rick. “You own it?”
“Free and clear.”
“He built it all.” Noelle took his hand.
William turned to Rick. “I’d like to speak with my daughter alone.”
He expected a fight, but Rick said, “Go on inside. I have to see to the stock.”
William watched him walk away. Confident young buck. He must believe there was nothing William could say to change Noelle’s mind. He followed his daughter inside and looked around. Whatever else, Rick Spencer was no sluggard. The place was well built, if he really had done it himself.
Noelle took his coat and hung it.
He waited until she turned back. “When are you going to tell me what this is all about?”
She started toward the doorway at the end of the room. “I’ll get us some coffee.”
He caught her arm. “I don’t want coffee. I want to know what you’re doing here in the middle of nowhere with that man. I have a right to know.”
She spun. “Do you, Daddy? Do you have a right to control my life?” Her eyes burned with accusation.
They had never fought. Not once had he seen the defiance he saw now. Oh, she’d been stubborn sometimes, even willful. And on those occasions he’d succumbed. Small things. The instance with the red dress. But this was not small. What he saw in her face cut him. “Haven’t I given you everything? Have I denied you anything? Ever?”
Tears brightened her eyes. “Only a life of my own.”
He didn’t understand. This woman was his daughter, yet he didn’t know her. “How was your life not your own? Everything you wanted—horses, music, dance . . .” He spread his hands.
She turned away. “I don’t want to fight with you. That’s not why I asked you to come.”
“Why did you, then? Why call at all?”
“Because Rick insisted.” She turned back.
William realized with a shock that, yes, Myron had found her, but what now? If she wanted to sever their relationship she could. But what on earth initiated this rebellion? How had he hurt her?
He calmed himself. His purpose was not to fight either but to bring her to her senses. “So you’ve had your mutiny. Fine. Now be sensible, Noelle. Come home.”
“I am home.” She spoke with such depth of emotion he couldn’t answer immediately. Why was she rejecting everything she had?
He said simply, “What about Michael? He’s been sick with worry since you left. Almost lost his position with the firm.” He saw her jaw tighten, but she said nothing. “You left without a word. Couldn’t you end your relationship fairly instead of disappearing like some petulant child?”
She turned, her eyes flaming. “You don’t understand. And it doesn’t matter. Because I’m staying here.”
He released a slow breath. “With this cowboy?”
“Yes.”
He looked around the bare walls, then back to her. “You’ll be wasted here.”
“It’s my choice.”
Rick came in the door, glanced at them, and pulled off his coat. This was his turf and he knew it. William had taken a chance agreeing to come. But what choice did he have? Rick motioned toward the couch and William sat at one end. Rick took the corner chair, and Noelle sat on its arm instead of on the couch with William.
That message was clear. “So.” William fixed Rick Spencer in his gaze. “How did you come to know my daughter?”
Rick sat forward, hands between his knees. “She needed a place to live; I had a room to rent.”
William was unmoved by his humble position. “You never saw her before she came out here?”
“No.”
William looked at Noelle, who avoided his glance. “And the fact that she has a substantial inheritance has nothing to do with this?”
“I knew nothing about you until her accident.” He sent Noelle a glance. “I did check things out then, your Web site, mainly.”
New information to Noelle, but she didn’t seem disturbed. It was understandable for the young man to gain what information he could about Noelle after the accident that put her in the hospital—and allowed Myron to find her. Understandable, yet he’d taken financial responsibility. Why?
William stood, walked to the window, and turned. “You paid the hospital bill?”
“My liability insurance.”
“You filed after you learned her financial status?”
“Yes.”
William crossed to the fireplace, leaned his elbow on the split log that formed the mantel. “You must have realized she was hardly destitute. Why not let her pay the bill?”
He hesitated just long enough for William to doubt what came next. “She fell riding one of my animals. That’s why I carry liability.”
“No waivers?” William lowered his arm to his side.
Rick said, “She signed a waiver.”
“But you paid her bill.” William saw Noelle tense and pressed harder. “Were you buying my daughter’s favor?”
To his annoyance, Rick grinned. “No, sir.”
Certainly not the reaction he’d hoped to provoke. Did nothing perturb this scoundrel? William jutted his chin toward Noelle. “The accident caused your limp?”
“I broke my leg, but it’s healing.”
William walked to the center of the room. “Was he responsible for your fall?” He waved his hand toward Rick.
She licked her lips. Did she see the trap he’d laid? “Yes” made Rick culpable for damages. “No” gave him ulterior motive for paying the debt.
“This isn’t a court, Daddy.”
He felt a flicker of pride. Her best choice, and she’d seized it. He returned his attention to Rick. “You didn’t wonder what she was doing out here alone with next to nothing and no contact with anyone?”
“I wondered.”
William tired of Rick’s succinct and non-informative answers. “You never asked?”
Rick said, “She didn’t want to tell.” A flicker in the eyes. Not quite the truth. Maybe he’d asked, but she hadn’t answered.
With the way she’d acted toward him today, William could believe that. Something wasn’t right. She wasn’t right. Was it from her past? She’d been high-strung ever since the kidnapping. If she were damaged by that childhood incident, wouldn’t someone have seen? Told him? Wouldn’t he have known?
He sat back down on the couch. “Are you aware that Noelle is already engaged?”
“Was.”
Ah, a touch of hardness in his tone. Rick didn’t seem eager to curry favor, nor was he cowed or uncomfortable. Under other circumstances, that might have impressed him. But Rick was not Michael.
“Her fiancé is someone I deeply respect. My foundation sponsored him in a program for underprivileged youth of outstanding ability. Michael Fallon exceeded every expectation. When he completed his education, I took him into the firm as junior partner.”
If Rick was impressed, he didn’t show it.
William scowled. “I’ve invested quite a lot in his future, and Noelle’s.”
Rick slid his arm around Noelle’s waist. “Mr. St. Claire, I love your daughter. I intend to care for her to the best of my means.”
“Your means?” They may as well both speak frankly.
Rick sat taller. “I have no illusions of equality. But I know what she wants.”
William threw up his hands. “She doesn’t even know what she wants!”
Noelle stiffened. “I do know. I want to marry Rick and live here at the ranch.”
William waved her off, annoyed that he’d been the first to break. “Love affairs are one thing. Think of the rest. Think of Michael.”
Neither one of them answered. His frustration mounted. His daughter was a woman. He had no say in her decisions, but he’d hoped she would listen. Of the two, he seemed to be communicating better with Rick. “You’ll sign a prenuptial agreement releasing all claims to her inheritance in the event of divorce?”
“Divorce is not an option.”
William formed a ghost of a smile. Youth and idealism. “Then you won’t mind signing.”
“Mr. St. Claire, everything I have is Noelle’s. What you do with your money is up to you.” He made William’s concerns sound cheap and demeaning.
That was a first. With all the work of the foundation, all his other philanthropic pursuits, no one had ever suggested pettiness. Nor had Rick. He’d merely expressed no designs on Noelle’s fortune. Well, there was something in that, he supposed.
William released a long breath, looked at his daughter. “This is what you want?”
She nodded. Had he ever been able to refuse those eyes, so like Adelle’s? Maybe he had spoiled her, led her to expect every desire to be fulfilled. Maybe he had overcompensated for the long hours, his own escape.
“Very well, I give you my permission. And more than that, I wish you happiness.”
It was as though the stick that held her spine erect was suddenly cut. She moved up from the chair and flowed to him, wrapped her arms around his neck. “Thank you, Daddy.” At least she gave him the illusion of obsequience.
He set her back. “But I want you to talk to Michael. Explain why you left. You owe him that much.” He saw the muscles in Rick’s jaw tighten. Rick knew something.
Noelle brought up her chin, but she looked more brittle than defiant. “Michael knows why I left.”
And now William wondered. Had his early misgivings been well-founded? Was Michael working him, as he worked a jury? Time enough to find out when he returned. He rubbed his neck. “So . . . how does one hail a cab around here?”
Noelle caught his hand. “You don’t have to go yet.”
“I do. I’m engrossed in a case we try tomorrow.” How many times had he said that over the years? Had he been a negligent father? Would he know her better, understand her better, if he hadn’t worked so many hours, so many days? It wasn’t as though he’d scraped for a living.
Rick stood up. “I’ll drive you down.”
Noelle let go. “You’ll come next week for the wedding?”
“I’m paying for it, aren’t I?” William got up.
Rick dug into his pocket for keys. “Actually, there’s not much expense. We’re having a small ceremony, with a reception here at the ranch.”
William raised his brows. “Not exactly what I had envisioned for you, Noelle.”
“It’s what I want.”
There it was again. What she wanted, though nothing near what he wanted for her. Where had he lost touch? “I’ll be back in a week for this . . . simple ceremony.”
He kissed Noelle and followed Rick outside. William had intended to solidify the prenuptial agreement on the drive to the airport, but something in Rick’s demeanor held him back. Noelle trusted this man, loved him. So he kept his own thoughts down the mountain.
United Airlines had one first-class ticket available to JFK. His chauffer, John, picked him up at the airport and drove him home. He spent the night replaying the previous day’s conversation. Was there anything he could have said and didn’t, anything that would have changed the outcome? When he slept he dreamed of Noelle as the winsome child she’d been.
The next morning, William went in early and stopped before Michael Fallon’s secretary. “Please send Michael in.”
“I’m sorry, Mr. St. Claire, Michael flew to Boston this morning on personal business.”
William paused with his coat half removed. “He’s second chair on the Witherston case.”
She shook her head. “He turned it over to Malcolm. He’s cleared his calendar for the next three days.”
William removed his coat and hung it on the rack inside his office door. The personal business Michael had in Boston would only postpone the personal business he had with him. There had been too much left unspoken in Colorado. Even if Noelle had what she wanted, he deserved answers.
———
Michael stood in the gallery and smiled, the first true joy he’d felt in months. Another painting and across from that another, both bearing Noelle’s signature. He had found the place that would lead him to her, but first, he allowed himself the pleasure of viewing her work. What he had told Clarice was true. He appreciated Noelle’s subtle, exquisite detail. It so exemplified her.
He remembered her long, delicate fingers on the brush. Her technique had improved and certainly her productivity. When had she begun to paint like that? Oh, he knew she’d studied art, had watched her work, but these landscapes had depth and emotion. She should continue painting as a creative outlet, even market the work if she desired, make a name for herself in the art world. He would support her efforts completely.
But now it was time to act. He glanced at the woman behind the counter, and on cue, she approached. Her wool suit was classic, but she wore a crystal mounted in a silver dragon claw around her neck, a curious complement to the extreme lines of her jacket and skirt.
She smiled. “I see you have an eye for quality. Noelle St. Claire is new in the market but very promising.”
Promising was a good word. He would buy the painting, present it to her as a symbol. But he needed to be careful, not too eager. If he’d read this woman right, he could play off her own signals. “Yes, there’s something about it, as though . . . I’m meant to have it.”
The creases deepened at the corners of her eyes. “Some of the pieces speak to me too. Maybe the artist leaves an aura to which sensitive minds respond.”
Michael gave that idea respectful consideration. Of course, he would respond to anything Noelle had done. How could he not? “Very possible. And in this case even more so. I grew up with a Noelle St. Claire.” It was almost true. William St. Claire was his spiritual father, if you wanted to look at it that way. “And she was an artist. What do you think the chance is it’s the same person?”
“It’s an uncommon name.” The woman’s gaze deepened as though trying to sense the connection. “I read once where a man recognized his father by the vibrations in the old man’s sculptures. Maybe her paintings sent vibes that brought you in today.”
“If that’s true, I must take this one.” Let her think she’d sold him. This was a partnership after all; she had information he needed.
“Very good.” She took the painting from the easel and started toward the counter. “Not many people listen to their centers, but I think it’s important to surround yourself with things that resonate.”
“Oh, certainly.” Michael joined her at the counter. “You wouldn’t have an address or phone number where I could reach Noelle. . . .” He straightened his cuffs and pulled the wallet from his coat.
“I’m afraid not.” She wrapped the painting in paper and taped it. “Her work is sent here from Colorado through an agent out there.”
Colorado? Michael let his face fall. “Too bad. I had such a strong sense of . . . purpose.” He met the woman’s eyes, established contact, then showed the force of his disappointment. “What if the vibes were a call or signal?”
She fingered the crystal hanging at her sternum. “Do you think so?” She studied the wrapped painting, obviously missing its power but believing nonetheless. “Well, I do actually have an address where I send her money orders—no checks. Probably doesn’t trust the government.” She gave him a pensive look, then pulled out a large notebook, flipping to the back. “Yes, here it is. Have you something to write this down?”
Michael was ready with pen and personal organizer. He wrote the address with reverence. “Thank you very much.” He flashed his smile as he took the painting in his arms. “You’ve been invaluable.”
“I listen to my center too.” The woman rested her hands on the counter.
He sensed her satisfied gaze as he went out. He had read her perfectly. And now—he clasped the address tightly and drew a jagged breath—he had Noelle.