Savannah Secrets
When eccentric Rowena Carstairs leaves her sizable estate to an illegitimate grandson who was given up for adoption at birth, Savannah attorney Meredith Hunter is obliged to track him down.Her search takes her to the wilds of Scotland, where she is shocked to discover that the man is none other than infamous corporate raider Grant Gallagher. Despite her reluctance to deal with such a ruthless man, Meredith knows she has no choice but to fulfill her client's wishes.Although he's indifferent to the inheritance, Grant is increasingly curious about the family he never knew he had and his grandmother's motives. And about Meredith, who's not the kind of woman he ever imagined he'd be attracted to.
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“You have nerve,” Meredith burst out, finally losing her cool and jumping out of the chair. “If you’d bothered to read all the letters I sent, you’d know about this already—”
“I rarely read my correspondence.”
“Well, that’s just too bad.” She flung out the words, throwing down the file. “Maybe when you’ve come to your senses, you’ll read that through properly.”
“What for?” he goaded her, crossing his arms, looking her arrogantly up and down. “I have no intention of changing my mind. I plan on ignoring the whole thing.”
“Mr. Gallagher,” Meredith said through gritted teeth, “I am not to blame for the manner in which your grandmother chose to bequeath her fortune. I’m merely an emissary. I have no pleasure in being here, I assure you. But I have a fiduciary responsibility to act on behalf of the beneficiary, and a legal duty to act in managing and administering the estate.”
“Bravo. An impressive speech.” He clapped his hands and looked her over, amused. “I guess law school is good for something, after all.”
Mastering the urge to knock those well-aligned teeth down his throat, Meredith took a deep breath. “In case I used too many big words,” she said sweetly, “it means that, like it or not, I now represent your best interest. I need you to cooperate. Do you understand?”
“Perfectly. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m very busy this morning. Goodbye, Miss Hunter.” With a sharp nod he rose, turned on his heel and marched out of the room the same way he’d entered. The door snapped shut behind him, leaving Meredith openmouthed in the middle of the room.
“An enthralling page-turner—not to be missed!”
—New York Times bestselling author
Joan Johnston on Southern Belle
Also by FIONA HOOD-STEWART
SOUTHERN BELLE
SILENT WISHES
THE LOST DREAMS
THE STOLEN YEARS
THE JOURNEY HOME
SOMEDAY SOON
To my goddaughter
Annabel Freya with love
Contents
Prologue
“So. This is finally it, Bill?” Rowena Carstairs murmured in her deep, tobacco-riddled voice, her eyes never leaving the doctor’s face.
The gray-haired, athletic-looking Bill Maguire let go of her pulse and straightened next to the large four-poster. “I’m afraid so,” he said, looking at her with a wry, sad smile. He knew it would be futile to pretend.
“That’s all right,” she said, her creased features breaking into a smile that still sparkled with mischief. “I’ve had a good inning. Better than most.”
“You’re sure you won’t consider the treatment? There’s a small chance it would buy you another year or two.”
“Ha! You have to be joking! I’m ninety-three, Bill. If I don’t die of one thing, it’ll be of another. And to tell you the truth, maybe it’s time.”
She lay back in the huge canopied bed and closed her eyes, her head propped against a sea of white lace pillows.
“All right, then. I’d best be off now,” the doctor murmured with a touch of regret, patting her wrinkled, veined hand, as it lay so motionless on the coverlet it could already be lifeless. “I’ll be back in the morning.”
“You come,” Rowena said, opening her eyes and winking, “but I don’t guarantee I’ll be here. Depends on how the mood strikes me. So I’ll say goodbye just in case. You’re a good man, Bill. Thanks for everything.”
“Don’t talk rubbish,” he replied, his tone bracing. “You’ll be here harassing the hell out of everyone for a while yet.” He laughed and their hands met once more.
Rowena nodded, then suddenly looking very tired, she waved him away. “You be off now. I need a rest. Tell Miss Mabella to come in, will you? She may have some good advice for the upcoming journey.” She let out a low, husky cackle that ended in a hacking cough.
“Okay.” The doctor smiled and nodded. “Good night, Rowena. Sleep well.”
“You bet I will.”
Once she was sure she was entirely alone, Rowena sagged against the pillows and sighed. So this was the end. She accepted it philosophically as she did most things. Part of her regretted leaving. But, as she’d remarked to Bill, she’d had one hell of a good run. It was time to go. All that increasingly mattered now were the regrets, those niggling mistakes made years ago that couldn’t be changed but might, if things went according to plan, be set on track.
Shifting her position to accommodate her stiff back, Rowena heaved another sigh. She should have listened to her daughter all those years ago. Isabel had tried to tell her the truth, but she hadn’t wanted to believe her child’s claims. Allowing pride and her own agenda to get in the way, she had paid the price.
“Miss Rowena?”
Opening her eyes, she turned her head on the pillow. “Miss Mabella, you sit yourself down on that chair right here next to me.” The formidable figure of Miss Mabella was clad in her usual long white dress under a purple silk cape with rows of beads and amulets hanging loosely around her neck. She swayed as she lowered her bulk onto the proffered chair. The pupils of her eyes shone in sharp contrast to the whites, illuminating her black face. Her complexion looked surprisingly young for a woman her age. On her head she wore an extravagant turban tied in the fashion of the African tribe she descended from and whose language she still favored over the English she spoke only when necessary.
