«You'll be sick if you eat all that lot,» Tiarella grunted.
He pulled a face at Althaea, who bit back on her giggles.
«I got something for you, too,» he said. «Actually, for us.» He held out the flat red leather jewellery case.
Althaea opened it cautiously. There were two platinum lockets resting on the black velvet inside.
«It's for hair,» he told her. «You snip off a few strands of your hair for mine, and I do the same for you. If you want.»
She nodded eagerly. «I do.»
«Good.» Finally, he produced a square box, and gave Tiarella a pointedly dubious look before he eased the lid off a fraction to show Althaea what was inside. Her eyes flashed as she saw the tiny white-silk negligée. She hugged him tightly, and licked his ear mischievously. Closer than she had been for a week.
They sat together on the cabin roof, back to back, sipping champagne as Orphée cut through the water. He could feel the tension slipping away as the mainland fell behind.
It wouldn't be long, a month at most, before there was nothing left of the hardliners of the Quissico Independence Party. Vaughan Tenvis was right to say the ESA's main activity was collecting information; but if it ever found a threat to the Kingdom it acted with terrifying efficiency to eliminate it. Nobody would come for him now.
The just cause would go on, of course, led by whoever survived. Moderates and compromisers, those who lacked fire. And in another thirty-five years Quissico would be an independent state, just as the founding charter promised.
One chapter of his life had closed irrevocably. He was free to embrace the new. Tiarella was now nothing more than an annoying irrelevance, one he could ignore with impunity. She was deranged, reading portents in the sky. Althaea belonged to him, and through her Charmaine. Fait accompli . If Tiarella continued to object . . . well, there had already been one boating accident in the family.
It was for the best. He could do wonders with Charmaine; a smart tough new master with plenty of money to invest was exactly what it needed. In a few years the old place would be up and jumping.
«More champagne?» Althaea asked.
He grinned and kissed her. «I think so.»
Tiarella sat behind the desk in her study, dealing from her pack of tarot cards. She was aligning them in the shape of a cross, each one pushed down firmly on the dark wooden surface with a distinct snick.
«I'm going to live here permanently,» Eason told her.
Another card was dealt. «You wouldn't enjoy it, not full-time. Oh, granted you're riding a crest with all these improvements you're making right now. It's all new and thrilling for you. But forty years of hard labour. I don't think you're quite cut out for that, now are you?»
«I wasn't proposing to do it all myself. I'm offering to buy in. I've cashed in my starship ticket, and liquidated some other investments. There's enough money.»
«A dowry. How quaint.» The arms of the cross were laid down methodically, five cards on each side. «The man Althaea chooses won't have to buy his way in. I'll greet him with open arms. He will have Charmaine because she has Charmaine. It's that simple, Eason. Have you asked her if she wants to share it with you?»
«We're virtually engaged. She's mine, and you know it.»
«Quite the opposite. She is not yours. She never will be. Her destiny is with another.»
The sly attitude of superiority infuriated him. He leant over the desk and caught her wrist as the last card was slapped down.
Tiarella didn't flinch at the pressure he exerted.
«Maybe you're jealous,» he said harshly.
«Of you two being lovers? Good God, no! You can never replace Vanstone. I thought you knew that by now.»
He bit back a furious retort.
«Would you mind letting go of me now, please?» she asked grimly.
He released her, slouching back in his own chair. «The money would make an incredible difference,» he said, refusing to give up. «We could buy some more tractors, clean out the rest of the groves, restore the coffee bushes, hire some labourers to prune the trees. Then there's the house to fix up properly.»
«That's the short cut, Eason, the easy option. You want to be a manager, the grand plantation owner living in his mansion while others bring in the crop. That's not the way to do it, not here. Life is about cycles; you can't fight what nature has ordained. And now we've come round to the time when Charmaine is passed on to Althaea just as it was passed to me all those years ago. I haven't done very well with it, but Althaea and her husband will. They'll rebuild Charmaine slowly. Every day there will be some new accomplishment for them to rejoice about. Their whole life is going to be rich with genuine satisfaction, not this cheaply bought gratitude you offer.»
«Then I'll give the bloody money away. She can have me just the way I was when we met, a destitute drifter.»
Tiarella's mask of indifference cracked for the very first time. She gave him a tired smile, compassion lurking in flecked emerald irises. «I never expected you to fall in love with her. I really didn't.»
«I . . .» He clenched his fists. Admitting that to her would be a defeat in this war, he knew.
«The money won't make any difference to Althaea's answer or mine,» she said weakly. «Believe me, I'm being kind to you. Just go, Eason. If you truly love her. Go now. You'll be hurt by her if you don't.»
«Is that a threat?»
«No. Listen to me, I had a lover before I met Vanstone. He was a good man, he adored me passionately, and I did him. But then Vanstone arrived, and I dropped him. Just like that. I never thought about how he felt. Girls that age can be unknowingly cruel. I don't want that to happen to you.»
«Althaea's not like you. She has a heart.»
Tiarella laughed. «And you believe I don't? I suppose I can't blame you for thinking that. I am a bitch these days, I admit. But I used to, Eason, I used to have a heart just like hers.»
«I don't get it. I really don't. You brought me here, you and that monstrosity snake helped me snuff the bounty hunters. You screwed with me. You stand by and let me screw your daughter. Now you tell me you don't want me here. Why ?»
«Your time is over.»
«Don't give me that card shit again. You realize she's probably pregnant by now. I didn't exactly hold back.»
«Don't get excited, she's not pregnant. I made quite sure she was using a contraceptive.»
He stared at her, shocked. «You . . .»
«Bitch? I'm her mother, Eason.»
«Jesus Christ.»
«You're welcome to stay here as long as you like, although I expect you won't want to. But you must understand, neither Althaea nor Charmaine is ever going to belong to you.»
«We'll see.» He was so furious he didn't trust himself to say anything else to her.
Althaea was in the kitchen, preparing their lunch. She looked up when he came in and gave him a happy smile. He kissed her, and took her hand. «Come along.»
She skipped after him as he went out into the hall. Tiarella was standing in the study's doorway, watching. Althaea automatically stiffened, glancing sheepishly at her mother.
«Althaea and I are going upstairs,» Eason said levelly. «That cot in my chalet is too small for the kind of sex I prefer. So from now on we'll be using the bed in her room. OK?»
Althaea drew a loud, astonished breath.
Tiarella shrugged indifferently. «Whatever.»
Eason grinned victoriously, and tugged a confounded Althaea up the stairs.
«Oh God, she'll kill me,» Althaea wailed as soon as the door shut behind them. «She'll kill both of us.»
«No, she won't.» He imprisoned her head between his palms, putting his face centimetres from hers. «She must learn to accept that you're a grown woman now, and that you and I are in love. We have a perfect right to be together in your bed. I did this for you. Everything I do is for you now.»