Winter Bride: A Loveswept Classic Romance

  Winter Bride is a work of fiction. Names, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  2013 Loveswept eBook Edition

  Copyright © 1992 by Iris Johansen.

  Excerpt from Accidental Cowgirl by Maggie McGinnis copyright © 2013 by Maggie McGinnis

  Excerpt from After the Kiss by Lauren Layne copyright © 2013 by Lauren LeDonne

  Excerpt from The Notorious Lady Anne by Sharon Cullen copyright © 2013 by Sharon Cullen

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States of America by Loveswept, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Random House LLC, a Penguin Random House Company, New York.

  LOVESWEPT is a registered trademark and the LOVESWEPT colophon is a trademark of Random House LLC.

  eBook ISBN 978-0-345-54619-7

  Cover image: © Ocean/Corbis

  Originally published in the United States by Loveswept, an imprint of The Random House Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Random House Company, New York, in 1992.

  www.readloveswept.com

  v3.1

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Editor’s Corner

  Excerpt from Maggie McGinnis’s Accidental Cowgirl

  Excerpt from Lauren Layne’s After the Kiss

  Excerpt from Sharon Cullen’s The Notorious Lady Anne

  One

  Jed Corbin possessed a face that riveted attention and a deep voice he played like a musical instrument, projecting notes of humor, sternness, and crisp decisiveness with faultless symmetry. He bore no resemblance to Arnold at all, Ysabel realized with profound relief.

  “It’s time you went to bed now.” The command came from outside the library where Ysabel sat. “I’ve made you a cup of hot chocolate and set it on your nightstand in your room. What are you—” Betty Starnes stopped in the doorway, her gaze fastened with shock on the face of the man on the big-screen TV. “Jed,” she muttered.

  Ysabel’s finger went instinctively to the off switch of the remote control before she realized it was no longer necessary to hide her interest in Jed Corbin. “You were here before he left, weren’t you? Did he look like this when you knew him?” Ysabel leaned forward, absorbed with catching the expressions flickering across the journalist’s mobile face.

  “No, he was only twenty-two and his hair was black, not silver … and his expression is harder now.” Betty tore her gaze from the television to stare accusingly at Ysabel. “You shouldn’t be ogling that imp of Satan. You know Mr. Arnold wouldn’t like it.”

  “He’s broadcasting from Paris tonight. He seems quite competent.” She added casually, “I just ran across the program.” Was she afraid to tell Betty the truth? she wondered. It was none of the housekeeper’s business that Ysabel had purposely arranged to watch Jed Corbin tonight, but the habits ingrained over the years were hard to break.

  She tried to block the waves of disapproval the woman was projecting as she hit the mute button on the remote control. That was better. Jed Corbin’s deep mesmerizing voice was having a disturbing effect and interfering with her concentration. A perfectly natural reaction, she thought quickly. She had never been permitted to watch him on television, but from what she had read in the papers he had the same effect on millions of other viewers.

  Jed Corbin was the foremost news anchorman in the United States and though he had built his reputation on a combination of sound journalism and breathtaking fearlessness, his magnetic physical appeal must have been a valuable asset to him. Twenty-two, Betty had said. That meant he was only thirty-six now, and his close-cropped silver hair was definitely premature. It was difficult to imagine him with dark hair or with any hint of softness clinging to him. His tan face was lined by experience, and his light blue eyes gazed out at her with weary cynicism. Dressed in a cream-colored cable-knit sweater and tweed sport coat, he was as different from the elegant, thoughtful anchorman Ysabel regularly watched as a tiger was from a pussy cat.

  “Competent? The only thing Jed Corbin’s competent at is causing trouble.” Betty marched over to the television, her tall, powerful body quivering with indignation. She turned off the set. “I can’t believe you did this. You were told that man’s program was never to be watched in this house. Here, poor Mr. Arnold has been in his grave only two days and already you’re flaunting his orders.”

  “Betty, I’d like to see—” Ysabel broke off as she saw the woman’s determined expression. The housekeeper would have to learn the status quo had changed, but Ysabel was too weary to fight her at the moment. The last six months of Arnold’s life had drained her strength and stamina, and she must save herself for the important battles. “Very well.” She obediently rose to her feet and started toward the door. “By the way, I phoned Lyle Townsend late this afternoon, but his secretary said he’d have to return my call. Make sure he’s put through to me even if I’m already asleep.”

  “Why would you call him?”

  The question was spoken with Betty’s usual blunt curiosity, but Ysabel ignored her rudeness. “He’s Arnold’s lawyer. I thought I’d ask him to come to the castle tomorrow to have a discussion concerning the will.”

  “You know what’s in the will. He read it to you in this very room right after the funeral.”

  Ysabel carefully restrained the flicker of annoyance she felt. She had learned to control her anger, suppress her true nature, and it was not time to release either. “I’d still like to go over a few of the clauses with him.” She wished Betty would just accept her words without questioning. Lies did not come easily to her. Heaven knows, her life in this house would have been a good deed easier if they had.

  “You shouldn’t trouble your head about such business. Mr. Townsend will take care of everything for you just as he did for Mr. Arnold.”

  Ysabel forced a smile. “But it’s my duty to at least have a superficial idea of Arnold’s holdings.”

  “Maybe,” Betty acceded grudgingly. “Okay, I’ll put through the call.”

  “Thank you.” Ysabel kept the sarcasm from her tone. She moved toward the stone steps leading to the second floor of the castle. “Good night, Betty.”

  “You remember to drink your hot chocolate. You need it to help you sleep.”

  Ysabel knew Betty didn’t care a whit about whether she slept well or not. The chocolate was just another way of enforcing her will on Ysabel. Arnold had taught his housekeeper well the ways of tyranny. “Yes, of course.”

  As she climbed the steps she noticed how softly and fluidly the skirt of her ivory-colored velvet robe flowed over the cold gray stone. How she had grown to hate these lounging robes Arnold had insisted she wear these past seven years. The gowns had become a symbol of her bondage as much as Betty’s arrogant, bullying presence. But her imprisonment was nearly over. Soon she would be able to fully concentrate on the purpose that had obsessed her all these years, and both the symbols and chains would go up in smoke.

  And Jed Corbin could well be the flame that would burn through the links.

  “Now, mind you go right to bed,” Betty called after her.

  Ysabel smiled serenely but didn’t look at her as she lifted her skirts with the quaint, graceful gesture Arnold had taught her, and proceeded up the stairs. “Don’t I always do what you tell me?”
<
br />   “A Mr. Townsend to see you, Monsieur Corbin,” the concierge announced as soon as Jed picked up the phone. “Shall I send him up?”

  “No problem. Townsend called me from the airport. I’m expecting him.” Jed hung up and immediately the phone rang again.

  Ronnie’s voice practically burst over the line. “Jed, I just saw you on television. What the hell do you think you’re doing? You told me you were going on vacation too.”

  “Calm down, Ronnie. That’s why I’m doing the series in Paris. It’s almost a vacation.”

  “The devil it is. You send me to Puerto Rico and then go off on a job. I’m sick to death of all this sunshine and sand and—”

  “Only you would complain about lying on a tropical beach for two months.”

  “Beaches are boring.”

  “Everything is boring to you but your camera. You needed this vacation. The doctor said you hadn’t let yourself recuperate fully after you got out of the hospital in Kuwait.”

  “Bull. I’ll be watching you. You do another broadcast and you’ll find me knocking on your door.” Ronnie hung up.

  That’s all he needed, Jed thought ruefully. He should have known Ronnie would start chomping at the bit the minute it became clear Jed hadn’t taken a break as he had said he was going to do.

  He replaced the receiver and went back to his packing.

  A knock sounded on the door. Townsend.

  Jed glanced through the peephole to be sure. He hadn’t seen the man for over fourteen years but had no trouble recognizing him. The lawyer was a little more plump, his graying hair receding, but he could swear the dark blue Brooks Brothers suit was the same one he had worn when he had arranged bail for Jed after that barroom brawl in Tacoma.

  He swung open the door. “Come in, Townsend. But you’ll have to be brief.” He strode across the room and closed the suitcase. “You’ve caught me at a bad time. I’ve ordered a taxi to pick me up in fifteen minutes.”

  “So that inquisitive young person downstairs informed me.” Townsend seemed faintly disgruntled. “She did everything but take my fingerprints before allowing me to come up and see you.”

  “Good. I’m glad she followed through with my orders. I like my privacy.” He fastened the snaps on the suitcase. “Talk fast, Townsend.”

  Townsend came into the room and closed the door. “I’ve flown all the way from Seattle to see you. I would think you could allow me a few moments of your precious time.”

  “I am allowing you a few moments.” Jed grinned at him over his shoulder as he unplugged his laptop computer on the desk. “A very few moments. I’m sure anything my father has to communicate through you can be said in verbal shorthand.”

  “Your father is dead.”

  Jed halted in midmotion. He had known this news would come sometime, but he hadn’t expected the shock and rush of undefinable emotions flooding through him. “When?”

  “A week ago. He suffered a heart attack over two years ago and was bedridden until his demise last week. We would have contacted you earlier, but it was his wish we not advise you of his illness.”

  “I see.” He snapped the lid of his laptop shut. “Is that all you wanted to tell me?”

  “Not quite. It’s my duty to inform you your father left none of his considerable fortune to you.”

  “I never expected he would. My father hated my guts from the time I was old enough to see him for what he was.” Jed placed the laptop in its case and set it beside the suitcase on the bed. “Arnold Corbin had an aversion for truth in any form.”

  “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

  “It’s no more than I’ve said to his face.” Jed shrugged on his tweed sport jacket. “Which is more honesty than you gave him.”

  “Our firm was always most conscientious regarding the management of your father’s affairs.”

  “And you detested him.”

  “I didn’t say …” Townsend met Jed’s gaze and slowly nodded. “I didn’t realize you knew of my dislike. Arnold Corbin was not a pleasant individual.”

  Jed experienced surprise and then a flicker of grudging respect. The man had more integrity than he remembered. Hell, the wild kid he’d been back then probably wouldn’t have been able to make an unbiased judgment of any of his father’s minions. He’d been too full of hurt and resentment and distrust. “He was a selfish bastard who didn’t care who he hurt as long as he got what he wanted,” Jed said bluntly. “You know it and I know it.”

  “Yes.” A small smile touched Townsend’s lips. “I must admit I was rather glad to hear you did so well after you broke with him and left the castle. Your success was a source of great rage and disappointment to him.” He lifted his brows inquiringly. “I imagine you have no real need for his money?”

  “No need at all. I could have bought and sold him anytime in the past five years.” Jed smiled grimly. “And I would have taken great pleasure in doing it, but I didn’t want anything that belonged to my father.”

  “How fortunate for you.” Townsend hesitated. “Then I’m afraid my journey is going to prove futile. I was asked to put a request to you.”

  Jed turned to look at him. “Request?”

  “Your stepmother sent me. She was the sole beneficiary but suggests you meet with her to discuss a possible settlement in return for a certain favor she intends to ask of you.”

  Jed laughed mirthlessly. “Good God, what next? Cherry and I were never close enough to exchange favors”—he smiled crookedly—“though she offered me a few interesting invitations before I left the castle. The only reason I didn’t take advantage of them was that I knew she was too dumb to realize my father would kick her out on her derriere when he found out.”

  “Cherry?” Townsend frowned, puzzled.

  “My voluptuous but slightly dim-witted stepmother,” Jed said impatiently.

  “Oh, no,” the lawyer stated. “Your father divorced Cherry Winston Corbin some time ago. He’d married twice afterward. His widow and beneficiary is Ysabel Belfort Corbin.”

  “Stepmother number five,” Jed murmured. “I should have realized.… His women never lasted more than a year or two. And what does the lady want from me?”

  “I have no idea. She didn’t give me her confidence. She only asked me to see you personally and request you come to her.”

  “Well, you’ve made your request. Tell her she has nothing to offer me that I need.”

  “I thought as much.” Townsend sighed. “But I had to try. I felt a little sorry for the young woman.”

  “Why?” Jed smiled. “She’s obviously going to be a very rich widow. How long did she stick with the bastard?”

  “Seven years.”

  Jed gave a low whistle. “Then she deserves every penny.”

  “More than you know. Toward the end of your father’s illness her life was almost unbearable.”

  “But she had such a bright golden future to look forward to, didn’t she?”

  “I don’t believe …” Townsend hesitated. “I don’t think she married him for his money.”

  Jed laughed incredulously. “You’re saying she cared about him?”

  “I didn’t say that. She just doesn’t impress me as the kind of woman who … She’s not like the others.”

  “And what is she like?”

  “A quiet little thing, rather fragile, almost otherworldly.” Townsend’s lips tightened. “Your father bullied her unmercifully. She was little more than a slave to him.”

  “A very pampered slave, I’m sure. Beautiful?”

  “Exceptionally.”

  “Then she had a ticket to leave at any time. Beautiful women are welcomed wherever they go. She chose to stay with the bastard.” He gathered up his cases and headed for the door. “My taxi is waiting.”

  “Then your answer is an unequivocal no?”

  “I thought I’d made that clear,” Jed said as he opened the door. “Even if I were tempted to go back to the castle, I have more on my plate right now than I can
handle.”

  Townsend followed him. “She appears rather desperate. I’m sure she would comply to almost any terms you’d care to offer. Winter Castle is quite a valuable property.”

  “Who would buy it? It was only a monument to my father’s vanity and king complex. No one wants turrets and drawbridges in this day and age. It’s as much an anachronism as the London Bridge they stuck out in that Arizona desert.”

  “What about Winter Island itself? An island within a twenty-minute boat ride to Seattle is a very valuable …” He trailed off as he saw Jed shake his head. “You’re sure there’s nothing you’d like to have?”

  “You’re damn right I’m sure. What could she—” He stopped.

  A woman wrapped in a white ermine-trimmed velvet cloak, her dark hair shimmering as brightly as the icicles hanging from the branches of the tree under which she was standing.

  “You’ve thought of something?” Townsend asked.

  Great dark eyes wide with apprehension as she looked at the castle on the hill.

  He had willed himself to forget her but now he knew he never had.

  And, great heavens, what a joke on his dear departed father. Arnold Corbin would be roaring in rage from hell at the idea of Jed owning his most valued possession. The image brought him a savage sense of satisfaction that astonished him. He had thought he had rid himself of the resentment and thirst for vengeance that had possessed him when he left the castle. Now they were back in full force, and it made no difference at all that his enemy had already been vanquished by the final antagonist. Why not? By God, he would have it!

  “Yes, I’ve thought of something I want,” Jed said softly. “Tell my dear stepmaman I can’t come at once but to expect me.” He closed the door and strode down the hall toward the elevators with Townsend at his heels. “She can definitely expect me.”

  Two

  A hand clapped over Ysabel’s mouth, jarring her from sleep.

  “It’s all right. Keep quiet. I have no intention of hurting you.”

  Darkness. Fear. Danger. Guardia!

  Her eyes flew open, and her heart beat wildly. The palm sealing her lips was callused and hard. She was too terrified to register there was no brutality in the grasp.