“You shanghaied him?”

“Tidewater had a cargo ship leaving port this morning.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Well, Willa, we did,” Ben said with a sigh as he stood up. “So, do you want help to your room or not?

I’m beat.”

“But what am I going to tellShelby ?”

“Tell her to get the hell out of her marriage. She’s got two weeks to start divorce proceedings in peace.”

“But she’s got two kids!”

“Is Richard Bates a jerk or not?” Sam growled, removing the drink she was clutching in her hands.

“He’s a first-class jerk.”

“Does she love him?”

“She…she might,” Willa admitted, her eyes pained.

“Then your interference is unwelcome.”

“But he’s mean toShelby —and she just takes it.”

“Then she will have to deal with him. You can’t divorce Richard for her, Willa.Shelby ’s got to do that herself.”

“But what about the kids?”

“Will they be better off with Richard or without him?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered, looking down at her lap. “I just don’t know.” She looked back up at Sam. “Shelby’s really pretty, and she used to be so full of life. She’s six years older than me, and I’ve always looked up to her. That’s why it’s so hard to see her like this.”

“Like what, exactly?” Ben asked. “Does he abuse her?”

“Emotionally, I think.Shelby ’s become withdrawn. Especially since…the accident.”

“What accident?” Sam asked.

“The accident where I crashed my car and maimed my niece for life.”

Only the ticking of the mantel clock broke the silence.

Small pieces of what Sam saw as a very complicated puzzle suddenly began falling into place. Willa felt guilty for driving the car that had crashed, for crippling her niece, and for her sister’s unhappiness now. Willamina Kent had spent the last five years as crippled as her niece. A guilty conscience could be a debilitating thing. And of all the dragons to slay, it was probably the hardest.

Abram Sinclair had known exactly that when he’d written his will; when he’d decided to send Willa three knights to rescue her.

Sam blew out a tired sigh. He looked at his brothers, who were staring at the woman they’d all come to care for in only three days. The little partridge fromMaine had roosted in their hearts, guilelessly and without intent but packing a small nation of troubles.

No wonder Bram was smiling. The old man had known his bequest would keep all four of them so mad at him they’d be too busy to mourn him.

In just three months, it would be over. Then Sam would take his bride to visit Bram’s grave—where, if they listened hard enough, they’d probably hear the old wolf laughing his head off.

Chapter Seven

Apparently unwilling to leaveanything to chance, Abram Sinclair had written his own eulogy. It was succinct and as arrogant as the man himself. Spencer read it at graveside before an impressively large assembly.

Some of you here have been waiting for this day to come, while some of you have been dreading it. I may be dead, but I promise I won’t be forgotten. Don’t any of you cry for me. I’m with my Rose now. And with my sons. Hopefully.

I had a good life and enjoyed myself for the most part. I knew the love of a good woman and the joy of raising my three grandsons to manhood. Just so you’ll know, I’ll be watching you boys, so don’t disappoint me. Take the empire I’ve built, and triple it. Get married, you rogues. Have lots of babies, and tell them about me.

And you damn well better be kind in the telling.

Smile for me. Hell, laugh if you like. That’s what I’ll be doing. And Willamina? You’d better get your thinking straight, girl. I’ve already started you on the right path; take my gift in the spirit I’ve given it.

Good-bye. And good luck to you all.

Willa sighed as Spencer’s voice trailed off. Oh, how she had come to love Abram Sinclair. Fate, in the form of a white-haired, eccentric old man, had finally caught up with her. Abram’s cryptic last words still echoing through the beautiful little cemetery, the mourners began a slow procession back to the house. She didn’t want to go back to that imposing office and listen to Spencer read Abram’s will. But the lawyer had told her that she must attend, ignoring her protests. She just wanted to go home to her safe and simple life. She wanted to put this last month and a half behind her and put the hopes and dreams Abram Sinclair had conjured up behind her.

Willa suddenly realized that she was alone with Jesse, Ben, and Sam. They were looking at her, their faces drawn and their shoulders stiff. “Will you put this on his casket for me, please?” she asked Jesse, holding out the rose.

He set it over the rose Abram had carved in the wood, and they all walked back to the house in silence. There were several more hours of condolences and handshakes. Willa heard comments on Abram’s casket, on the eulogy, and on Rosebriar. Speculation was whispered about what would happen now. The consensus seemed to be that Tidewater International would be divided up among the three grandsons. It was also agreed that an era had ended.

But for all the strain of the afternoon, it went by much too quickly. Within minutes, it seemed, Willa found herself sitting in one of the four chairs Spencer had placed facing a television in the office. Staff, distant relatives, and even some board members of Tidewater were sitting and standing around the room. Ben, Jesse, and Sam were seated beside her.

It was clear that they were going to see Abram Sinclair one last time, in living, breathing color on a video tape. Just what she needed, to hear Abram’s voice again, probably in a lecture. She didn’t want any bequest beyond the cost of his casket, and even that was unnecessary.

Sam sat in stony silence beside Willa. He knew what was coming, and he didn’t like it. He’d decided to keep the contents of the will to himself, giving Bram the pleasure of breaking the news to Jesse and Ben. He’d only read the written terms; he hadn’t seen the video. Spencer had somehow “forgotten” to tell him there was one. To the end, Bram’s old friend had remained loyal. Spencer cleared his throat, and Sam grabbed hold of Willa’s hands. She stopped wringing them and looked up at him with a white face. “I want to leave,” she whispered.

“It’ll be okay, Willa.”

“I don’t belong here.”

“You will,” he said, giving her a wink, then turning to nod at Spencer.

“Everyone here today has been asked to be here,” Spencer said, going to the television and turning it on.

“Even Warren Cobb?” Jesse asked, glaring at the man leaning against Bram’s desk, his cane resting beside him.

Warren Cobb was founder and majority shareholder of Starrtech, Tidewater’s closest rival.Warren was also Bram’s childhood friend. They had worked their way out of poverty together, but sometime during the building of their separate empires, they’d become enemies. The reason for this had gone to the grave with Bram, and Sam doubted thatWarren would be any more forthcoming. But having read the will, he understoodWarren ’s interest in the proceedings today.

“Even Cobb,” Spencer acknowledged. “He’s here at Bram’s request.”

“Then let’s find out why, Spence. Start the tape.” Ben tugged at his tie.

Sam did the same. Not one Sinclair was comfortable in a tie, especially Bram. Which is why Sam had taken his grandfather’s tie off just before they’d closed the casket that morning. And, as Bram was wont to do, Sam had balled it up and stuffed it into the old man’s jacket pocket, giving it a final pat for Peg. She was forever fishing out those ties and having to press them, and tonight she’d probably be pressing three more. Jesse had already shed his, and by the looks of things, Ben was not far behind him. Sam had loosened his own tie and unbuttoned his top button, but before this meeting was over, he’d want to use his tie to strangle someone.