Groom By Arrangement. Susanne Mccarthy

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СКАЧАТЬ slinky brunette in a scarlet dress that was cut low enough to start a riot.

      Her table was popular, and someone else had already slipped into his place as she flashed her professional smile and deftly shuffled the cards.

      Her table was always popular, no matter what game she was dealing—and she was perfectly well aware that it wasn’t just her skill with a pack of cards that was the attraction. Gentlemen preferred blondes—wasn’t that what they said? And she was the classic blue-eyed blonde; one moonstruck young admirer had poetically likened the colour of her hair to a new-minted silver dollar.

      But looks could be deceptive, and anyone who thought Natasha Cole was simply a pretty doll to decorate the tables and comfort a losing gambler when his wallet was empty soon learned their mistake. That cool smile, and those ice-blue eyes, could freeze a man at twenty paces.

      As she dealt with the next hand, she cast a swift glance around the gaming room. It was busy tonight, all the roulette tables open, thousands of pounds worth of chips being traded for a few minutes of tense excitement. Another profitable night for Spaniard’s Cove, she reflected with a twist of ironic humour. Surely she ought to be pleased? After all, she owned the place.

      Spaniard’s Cove had been a sugar plantation once, in her family for generations. But when the bottom had dropped out of the sugar-cane market her grandparents hadn’t been able to sell the land even at giveaway prices. Struggling for survival, they had hit on the idea of starting up a small casino in the empty shell of the old sugar warehouse.

      It had proved an amazing success, quickly building a reputation among the wealthy yachting set as a friendly little place, nothing like the glittering money-palaces of Monte Carlo and Las Vegas. And her grandmother had been its queen—a real grande dame, who’d smoked too much and laughed like a horse.

      A familiar little twinge of pain tugged at her heart-strings as she remembered her grandmother. Though it was nearly eight years now since she had succumbed to the heart condition which the doctor had frequently warned her would kill her if she refused to give up those dreadful cigarettes, sometimes she still found it hard to believe that the doughty old lady was no longer around.

      It had been her grandmother who had more or less brought her up. She barely remembered either her father or her grandfather—she had been little more than a baby when they had been killed in a boating accident. And her mother had been a wistful, pale creature, always preferring to stay in the background. It had been her grandmother who had encouraged her to go to university. She would have been so proud of the degree in Business Studies that she had achieved last year. She had come home with so many plans. None of which had involved dealing blackjack.

      Lester. The problem she had inherited along with Spaniard’s Cove. Her eyes penetrated across the smoky room to where her stepfather was holding court around the craps table with half a dozen of his high-rolling cronies.

      Her grandmother had never really liked him, but as her health had started to fail she had been forced to hire a manager for the casino. Oh, Natasha couldn’t deny that he was good at his job—under his control, the profits had increased year on year. It was his methods she didn’t like, and what he had done to the place.

      But, for the time being at least, she could do nothing about it. Three months after the old lady had died, he had married Natasha’s mother. It had been quite a surprise—everyone had always believed that Belinda Cole’s heart lay deep beneath the blue waters of the Mexican Gulf, where her first husband had drowned.

      Somehow Lester had managed to convince her that his was the strong shoulder she’d needed to lean on. Had she ever loved him? Natasha had always doubted it. But in the end it hadn’t really mattered—never robust, within a year of her second marriage she had fallen victim to a serious viral infection and died. And in her will she had passed on to Lester her responsibility as one of the trustees of the estate Natasha would inherit from her grandmother on her twenty-fifth birthday.

      Time had been kind to Lester Jackson. Though he was in his middle fifties, only a slight thickening of his waist-line marred his elegant figure, and he still had most of his hair, now a distinguished shade of silver. And many women found the crinkles around his eyes extremely attractive.

      Oh, yes, he was still a good-looking man, affable and charming—everybody liked him. Everybody, it seemed, except Natasha.

      Was she the only one who saw the lies, the unnecessary exaggerations, the empty boasts? Who knew how often the famous names he dropped so liberally into any conversation were of people he had never even met, how often the sharp business deals he claimed to have pulled off had never in fact taken place?

      Every time she’d tried to discuss her plans for Spaniard’s Cove, he had cut her off point-blank. ‘Close down the casino? Don’t talk rubbish,’ had been his blunt response.

      And her other trustee, Uncle Timothy, although sympathetic, hadn’t been a lot of help. ‘Well, strictly speaking, his duty is to ensure that the trust is secure, and achieving the best possible return,’ he had explained in his dry, pedantic way. ‘I’m afraid any changes—though I do think your ideas have excellent potential—could only be regarded as speculative at this point in time.’

      So she had no choice but to wait until she was twenty-five. The only other way to have the trust wound up would be if she got married. But since she didn’t have a boyfriend—or even much chance of meeting someone suitable, given her present circumstances—that really wasn’t an option.

      It had been her intention to go back to the States for a couple of years, or even to Europe—maybe get a job somewhere in the tourist industry, to gain some valuable experience for when she was able to have a free hand. But something had warned her to stay here, where she could keep an eye on her own interests.

      Not that she had uncovered any evidence that Lester was cheating her—and she was quite sure that if she had missed anything Uncle Timothy would have noted it. He might be reluctant to argue with Lester over letting her develop Spaniard’s Cove the way she wanted to, but he was most conscientious about checking the accounts. It was just…some vague instinct that warned her that something wasn’t quite right.

      So she kept her suspicions hidden—but those cool blue eyes were watchful. Two years. It wasn’t that long to wait…

      It was an exciting prospect. Since the airport had opened, on the northern tip of the island, the tourists had been pouring in. And Spaniard’s Cove, with its smooth turquoise lagoon and white sandy beaches, sheltered within its spectacular surrounding hills, was a perfect spot for a luxury resort. There would be water-sports, of course—windsurfing, scuba-diving—and a golf-course, horse-riding, tennis. And the old sugar warehouse would be converted into an up-market health spa, complete with gymnasium, hydro-pool, aromatherapy…

      And there would be no more smoke-filled rooms curtained from the outside world—and no more hot-eyed, sweaty-palmed gamblers.

      Drifting back across the room, her gaze was drawn again to the tall figure of Lord Neville’s enigmatic friend. He was watching at one of the roulette tables as that slinky brunette tossed her chips and fluttered her outrageous lashes at him. Trust Darlene, Natasha mused with a touch of wry humour—her antennae always managed to lock onto the most attractive man in the place, no matter how crowded it was.

      Attractive? Yes, she would give him that, she conceded with a certain dry detachment. She would put him in his early thirties, perhaps—which made it odd that she had never seen him before, if he was a regular gambler. Perhaps he had recently inherited a fortune, and was intent on losing it as quickly as possible? He would have little trouble doing that if he was a friend of Lord СКАЧАТЬ