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"At noon, then."

  He paused for a moment and stared at her, and Corinne felt goose bumps spread over her arms. She quickly rubbed them.

  "Good evening, Miss Barrows."

  She nodded. "Mr. Burk."

  He was gone and she sighed in relief. Something about that man disturbed her, but she didn't know what. She shook off the feeling and went back to her father's study. She found him still at his desk, going over papers.

  "You're not supposed to work after a party, Father," she scolded as she came into the room.

  "I'm not working, my dear," Samuel replied, putting the papers down. "Actually, I was looking over your grand­mother's will."

  "Whatever for?" Corinne frowned. "This hasn't any­thing to do with Mr. Burk, does it?"

  "In a way, yes. He asked about the owners of the ship­building firm. I was just checking to be sure I gave him the correct facts without giving him all of them."

  "Just what are you talking about?"

  "Sit down, Cori. As you know, my father founded the shipyard, but it was on its last legs when I married your mother. Your mother's money helped, but it was your Grandmother Daneil who saved the shipyard. She became a full partner, but left the running of the yard to me. Later, when we expanded, Elliot invested, and now he and I run it together."

  "What has this to do with Mr. Burk? You're not thinking of letting him invest in the firm, are you?"

  "Yes," Samuel said frankly. "Elliot and I have been con­sidering enlarging the yard for many years. We just can't meet demand as it is."

  "Then use your own money," she suggested. "Why bring someone else into it?"

  "By taking another partner, we will increase profits, our customers will get quicker results, but it will cost us noth­ing."

  "And where does this put Mr. Burk?"

  "He will be a silent partner, not an active one. After all, the man isn't planning on settling here in Boston, not as far as I know. He will own shares in the firm which will double his investment in a few years, but he will have no control and very little voting power. Elliot and I own equal shares, but you are the major stockholder, since your grand­mother left you all her shares."

  "Why not get an investor that you know, then? One of your old cronies. Why Mr. Burk?"

  "Because I'm sure he doesn't plan to stay here. He won't be underfoot, constantly inquiring about his interests. And there is no way Mr. Burk could ever get control of the firm, just in case he has that in mind."

  "He could marry me," Corinne teased. "That would put him in control."

  Samuel grinned. "You like him, then? He's a very intriguing fellow."

  "I was only speaking hypothetically, Father," Corinne answered quickly, appalled.

  She could just see herself married to a man like that. He would rule with an iron hand, worse than her father did.

  "Well, even if you did marry Mr. Burk, he could not have control of your shares unless I decided he was trustworthy. And I doubt that I would decide in his favor until the day I died."

  "I thought when I reached twenty-one that I would be in

  control. Are you saying I won't be?" 'I

  "That's why I was looking over your grandmother's will. The money will be yours when you become of age or mar­ry, but control of your shares is still left to me, until I feel you are ready to take over. And if you are married then, I will have to have confidence in your husband, also."

  "Why? I don't understand why grandmother gave you that power. She didn't even like you."

  "I know," Samuel chuckled. "She knew I married your mother for her money, which was and still is a common practice. Not that I didn't care for Mary, mind you. But Daneil knew that I would look after your best interests, and that's what she wanted to ensure."

  "Why didn't you ever tell me about this before?" Corinne asked. ,

  "Because it doesn't really affect you, Cori," he answered easily. "You're not planning on participating in the running of the firm, are you?"

  "Of course not." J

  "So you see, it makes no difference. I maintain control "

  of the firm, but the profits from your shares still go to you If as they always have."

  "I haven't seen any of these profits!" Corinne remarked bitterly.

  "They have gone into your trust, more than doubling it since your grandmother's death. They will come directly to you when you are of age." *

  "Or when I marry?" "Yes."

  "You know, if you could just give me some of that mon­ey now, Father, I wouldn't be in such a hurry to marry," Corinne suggested.

  "And have you lose it all? No, my girl. I just hope when you finally do get your money, you show some sense in what you do with it. The two hundred you get monthly now comes from your trust, but what do you have to show for it?"

  "I spend money on clothes," she said defensively. "And jewels."

  "You charge those to me You throw your own money away."

  "This conversation has become boring. Good night, Fa­ther." Corinne rose stiffly and stalked from the room.

  Chapter 6

  JARED Burk called at the Barrows' townhouse promptly at noon, but was kept waiting for thirty minutes. Co-rinne didn't do it on purpose, as she sometimes did with her other callers. She had actually overslept, forgetting to tell Florence to wake her early.

  When she finally came downstairs to meet him, Jared's eyes showed that he didn't mind the wait. She wore a sim­ple dress without frills, elegant because of the rich silk poplin material. Bottle-green, it was a few shades darker than her eyes. The high collar was ribboned in a darker green, with an ornate diamond broach. A large diamond and emerald ring was her only other jewelry.

  After a few words of greeting and the customary com­pliments on Jared's part, they left in Jared's hired carriage. He allowed her the choice of restaurants, since he was not acquainted with the better establishments, and she chose a small cafe that she often enjoyed. The food was excellent and the atmosphere friendly.

  Jared ordered lunch for them both, making a choice Co-rinne silently approved of, and a light wine was served im­mediately. After taking a few sips, Corinne relaxed a bit and observed her escort boldly.

  He was smartly dressed in a dark blue suit, opened to reveal a light blue silk vest with mother-of-pearl buttons. His rugged good looks, his expensive clothes, his entire ap­pearance commanded attention. His face was smoothly shaved, and she still wondered how he had acquired such a deep tan. Corinne felt the envy of the other women in the room, and this pleased her vanity.

  "Is something wrong, Miss Barrows?" Jared finally asked, after he had allowed her scrutiny to continue for several moments.

  She blushed slightly. "I didn't mean to stare. I've just never met anyone as darkly tanned as you are. It must be terribly hot where you come from."

  "You get used to it," he replied noncommittally, and quickly changed the subject. "I must say I expected a chaperone to join us today."

  Corinne laughed. "Whatever for? We live in a new age, Mr. Burk. Chaperones are old-fashioned."

  "Not everyone feels that way."

  "You, for instance?"

  "Yes," he admitted. "Frankly, I'm surprised your father doesn't insist on a chaperone for you."

  "My father is quite tolerant where I am concerned. He has always given me complete freedom, so I have learned to be cautious. I avoid dangerous situations. Have I some­thing to fear from you, Mr. Burk?" she asked coyly, thor­oughly'amused by his archaic ideas.

  He grinned before answering. "That depends on what your fears are."

  "Meaning?"

  "Some women fear what others don't."

  Lunch was served. Though Jared never gave her ques­tions direct answers, he asked her many. He quizzed her about Boston, and she proudly related some of its history.

  She relaxed and enjoyed his company. He could be charming and witty, and when he laughed, his eyes were more blue than gray. But afterwards, on the ride home, she was taken by surprise when he began questioning her again, and in a per
sonal vein.

  "I find it unusual that your fiance' didn't object to our meeting today."

  "He didn't know about it," she admitted. "But he wouldn't have said anything if he had."

  "You intend to tell him?"

  "Our lunch was perfectly harmless, Mr. Burk. And be­sides, I am not answerable to Russell."

  "But you are engaged to marry him?"

  "Not officially—not until my father gives his approval, that is."

  "Then Mr. Drayton hasn't asked for you yet?"

  Corinne became uncomfortable. "Really, Mr. Burk. That is none of your business."

  The carriage stopped on Beacon Street, but Jared didn't move to open the door. "You're quite right, of course. I just find it strange that a man who plans to marry you would allow you to see other men."

  "Allow?" Corinne felt her temper rising. "No one allows me anything. I do whatever I please, Mr. Burk. Russell wouldn't presume to put restrictions on our relationship." "You're very independent, aren't you?" he commented.

  "Yes, I am," she said proudly. "I value the freedom I have gained."

  "But you are willing to give it up when you marry. You must love Mr. Drayton very much."

  "Of course I love him," she lied, knowing how callous it would sound if she admitted the truth. "But Russell and I have a very agreeable relationship, Mr. Burk. I won't be giving up my independence when I marry him."

  "Then he is a very ... unusual fellow."

  "Yes, he is—quite different from most men."

  "You mean he's weak, don't you?" he asked contemptu­ously.

  "Certainly not!" she replied indignantly, wondering why she had allowed this inquisition to go on so long.

  "Then he loves you enough to give you whatever you want, including the independence you value so much?"

  "I think, Mr. Burk, that your boldness has gone far enough. I have told you much more than you have a right to know."

  He grinned. "I apologize, Miss Barrows. But I have never met anyone quite like you. I find your ideas fascinating."

  "You are teasing me now, and I don't like it," she said icily. "I know you don't approve. Your type never does."

  "My type?" he raised a brow in amusement "Have you put me into a category, Miss Barrows?"

  She ignored the question. "I enjoyed lunch, Mr. Burk. Thank you for inviting me."

  Corinne reached for the door handle herself, but Jared stopped her by placing his hand over hers. A strong current seemed to pass between them. The strength in his fingers seemed to drain her own.

  She was shaken. She looked at him questioningly. "I—I wish to go in now," she said weakly.

  His gray-blue eyes probed her face as if he were trying to read her thoughts. "I know. But I want to see you again."

  "Why?"

  "I find I like you very much, Miss Barrows."

  "I'm afraid I can't return the compliment," she said frankly.

  "I have offended you and I'm sorry. But I really would like to see you again. Tonight for dinner? And the theater, perhaps?"

  "No, Mr. Burk. After last night's party, I have decided to spend a quiet evening at home tonight."

  "Then tomorrow?"

  "I hardly see the point. We really have nothing in com­mon. And Russell might not understand."

  "I thought you weren't answerable to Mr. Drayton?"

  "I'm not."

  "Then you will see me again?"

  "I will have to think about it, Mr. Burk." This time she did not accept the bait. "Good day."

  He opened the door for her lien, and Corrinne rushed out of the carriage without waiting for Mm to help her. Nor did she wait for him to follow and escort her to her door, but ran quickly up the steps and into the safety of her home without looking back.

  Her heart pounded frantically as she leaned against the door. She didn't know what had frightened her so about those last few moments in the carriage. Jared Burk had stopped her temporarily from leaving, but that was not the reason. Was it Jared Burk himself? More likely it was his touch, for she had never felt so drained of will and strength as she did when his strong fingers closed over hers. She was stunned by her own reaction, for nothing like that had ever happened to her before.

  What was wrong with her? He was just another man, the kind of man she avoided. She had sensed a dangerous quality about him when she first met him and she had been right. He had made her lose control of herself, if only for a moment, and that was extremely dangerous.

  Jared had started to escort Corinne to her door, but be­fore he even stepped from the carriage, she was inside the imposing townhouse and the door was closed. He sat back down and then noticed the green silk purse on the opposite seat. He picked up the purse, thinking to return it, but abruptly changed his mind and signaled the driver to return to his hotel.

  Jared leaned back and stared thoughtfully at the silk purse, picturing it attached to that slender wrist. He frowned as he wondered what had caused Corinne to run into her house the way she did, as if she were frightened of him. She had good reason to be, but she couldn't pos­sibly know that. Oh, he had baited her, antagonized her even, in order to judge her character. And it had worked.

  He had the haughty Corinne Barrows halfway figured out. He knew she took offense easily. She was spoiled, and was allowed much too much freedom. Someday that would get her into trouble, but that didn't concern him. She was a cool one, sure of her beauty and the effect it had on men.

  No decisions had been reached yet, but Jared had only a few options left out of all those he had considered. He had all the facts he needed about Samuel Barrows, and some surprising ones about his daughter. All that remained was to decide what to do with the information he had.

  He was hoping that his investment in Barrows' shipyard would yield him a certain amount of control in the firm, enough to block major decisions and ultimately destroy the firm. It was Barrows' major source of income. His other interests amounted to nothing in comparison. Of course, Jared's money would also be lost when the shipyard went under, but nothing mattered except ruining Samuel Barrows. That shipyard meant everything to him. He had devoted most of his life to it. He had turned away the woman who loved him in order to save it. Now Barrows would lose all he had worked for.

  Out of mild curiosity, Jared opened the purse he held. He removed a silk handkerchief with lace edging, a few dollars, a compact of light powder. He opened the lid from a small vial of perfume and smelled the delicate fragrance Corinne had worn.

  One item startled him—a tiny knife with a short, sharp blade, encrusted with jewels, no less! He couldn't imagine the sophisticated Corinne ever using it.

  The last thing he took from the purse was a slip of paper with an address on it. The paper was crumpled as if it had been read many times. Jared had learned this address from Ned Dougherty.

  Sure, he had doubted Dougherty's assertion that Corinne Barrows went to this place two or three times a week in the middle of the night. But wasn't he looking at the proof right now, the address of a private gambling house in Cambridge across the Charles River? And not just a gambling house, but a place where gentlemen brought their lady loves for a little dalliance on the second floor. A little luck with the cards, a little lust upstairs.

  Jared's opinion of Corinne Barrows decreased even more. Regrets? He would have absolutely none now, if he were eventually forced to use her to accomplish his plans.

  Chapter 7

  CORINNE glanced at the clock on the mantle and im­patiently began to tap her foot. One o'clock in the morning. She hated to be rushed.

  "Florence, please hurry," Corinne said petulantly. "Rus­sell will be down the street any moment now."

  "If your hair wasn't so silky, it would be easier to put up," Florence replied, unperturbed. "And it won't hurt Russell Drayton to wait a spell. He shouldn't be out there anyway," she added disapprovingly.

  "Now don't start on me tonight," Corinne returned. "I'm in no mood."

  "You're never in a mood to listen to reason," Flor
ence reminded her, though she never tired of trying. "Sneaking out in the middle of the night! One of these days you're going to regret these little adventures, you mark my word. A lady just doesn't do these things."

  Corinne grinned mischievously. "Would you like to come with me to see I don't get into trouble? I'm sure Russell won't mind."

  Florence actually looked shocked. Though she was only fifteen years older than Corinne, her morals were those of a much older generation.

  "I can just see me in that fancy gambling house. Why, my mother, God rest her soul, would come back to haunt me. And your mother's probably been turning in her grave for quite a while, knowing what you're about."

  "Now don't you try and make me feel guilty, because it won't work, do you hear?" Corinne snapped. "Lord, is it a crime to put a little excitement in my life? Gambling is fun, Florence. It's thrilling," she tried to explain. "And it's not as if I didn't know what I was doing. I've learned how to play the games, and I'm really quite good."

  "You know you're doing wrong or you wouldn't be sneaking out of the house, and by the servants' entrance, no less. Nor would you be wearing that special cloak to dis­guise yourself." She gave an indignant snort. "Cheap pau­per's wool, as if you couldn't afford better."

  Corinne looked at the dowdy cloak lying across the foot of her bed. "No one will recognize me in it."

  "You're going to disgrace this family yet, Corinne Bar­rows. A scandal, mind you, and one you'll never live down, because it will be the first to touch the Barrows name."

  "I'll never bring scandal to this family!"

  "And just how—"

  "You didn't let me finish," Corinne interrupted. "Why do you think I pick clubs so far away? Because I won't be known there. In all the time I've been going; I've seen only two people I recognized at the clubs."

  "You see!"

  "But they won't spread rumors about me, because they have their own secrets to hide."

  "Your father found out, didn't he?" Florence reminded her. "Lord knows why he didn't put his foot down then and there. I thought for sure that would be the end of it."

  "Well, he didn't. I suppose he thinks I'll outgrow it. And I will stop, just as soon as I can play in that one no-limit game I've been dreaming about for so long."