"What about Rosebriar? Don't you want it?"
"We can build elsewhere on the estate," Jesse said. "Sam will probably be busy making caskets inMaine most of the time, anyway."
"Just as long as Warren Cobb and his damned grandsons are out of the picture," Sam growled.
"Have you met any of his grandsons?" Spencer asked.
"Yup. And if you thinkWarren 's bad, you should see them."
"He's got four, hasn't he?" Ben asked.
"Warrenhad six children," Spencer told them. "Four daughters and two sons. And several grandchildren now. I don't remember the exact number."
"The old bastard didn't pine for Rose long," Jesse drawled.
"He married about four years after Bram did," Spencer said. "And he married money. That's how he got his start."
"Then I can't imagine them holding a grudge for sixty years."
"It was heated at first, until they both got busy building their empires. It's only been minor skirmishes for the last thirty years."
"Then Willa shouldn't be in any danger," Jesse speculated.
"Don't bank on it," Spencer offered. "One of his grandsons, Barry Cobb, is ten times worse than old man Warren. And he hopes to gain his grandfather's favor. It would be my guess that most of the battles Tidewater has fought lately have been because of Barry."
"But why? The feud's two generations removed from him."
"All of the children were raised on stories tainted withWarren 's bitterness," Spencer explained. "Most of them could care less, but with Barry, it took. He'd like nothing better than to bring down Bram's company for his grandfather."
"So, now we know where to look for trouble," Sam said. "We keep Willa safe, and we keep a close eye on Barry Cobb."
"We'll do the watching, brother-you concentrate on wooing your bride. Then you can start making a baby. Fifteen months isn't all that long," Ben said.
Sam gave his brother a challenging grin. "One million bucks says I get her pregnant within two months of our wedding."
Ben's eyebrows climbed into his hairline. "A million?"
"Each."
Jesse's eyebrows went the way of his brother's. "Pretty cock sure, aren't you?"
"Eleven months from the wedding, I'll consider accepting your christening gifts."
"You're on!" Jesse said. "One million each, to be set in trust for your kid. One day past eleven months, though, and you set up trusts for our future offspring."
"Fair enough."
"Deal."
"Deal."
Three hours of crying hadn't helped, and the laughter Willa heard coming from the office only added to her anger. It had begun drifting up the stairs two hours ago in increasingly boisterous waves. It was obvious that those three pitiful excuses for grandsons were getting roaring drunk. They'd put Abram in the ground not ten hours ago, and now they were carrying on like uncivilized baboons. The ungrateful wretches.
Bram included.
The old goat had trapped her smartly. He'd known she wouldn't be able to turn her back on a company full of people who depended on it for survival. Just as he'd known she was too damned softhearted to let
Tidewater fall into the hands of a man whose lifelong ambition was to make anyone named Sinclair suffer. If she married one of the grandsons, it would become her name too, and her war. But if she walked away, everyone suffered. Warren Cobb would destroy Tidewater. Jobs would be lost. Sam and Ben and Jesse would have lost not only their grandfather but their heritage. And if that happened, she would never be able to live with herself.
She had spent the last three hours feeling sorry for herself, crying, raging, and worrying. She'd packed twice and was now making her third attempt to leave. This time, she'd actually reached the top of the stairs.
Now she was sitting on them. Listening.
And crying again-but for a different reason.
The door to the office was closed, but she could still hear what was going on inside. The laughter was interspersed with stories, outrageous memories of three boys growing up in a home filled with love and plenty of pranks.
Each tale began with "Do you remember when we" and ended in laughter. Abram had been the butt of most of the boys' escapades, and of course, he had retaliated, sometimes with well-deserved punishments, sometimes with even more devious pranks. Abram's boys" were giving their own eulogy as they came to terms with their grandfather's death.
That was why she was sitting there, undecided. She'd dearly love to get to know Sam and Ben and Jesse better, to understand what made them tick. Not one of them had batted an eyelash when they'd learned Abram was leaving his entire fortune to her. They'd definitely been surprised, but they hadn't been outraged or hurled accusations at her or threatened reprisal. They'd simply accepted it.
As if they'd expected Abram to do something outrageous. As if they didn't care.
Abram actually expected her to marry one of them?
They scared her spitless. Not physically-even though she suspected each of them had a formidable temper, she also knew they'd never use it against a woman. No, what scared her was their fortitude, their confidence, and their arrogance. All three of them overwhelmed her without even trying. Their very ability to walk away from Tidewater and start over left her speechless. Willa had realized years ago that she was a little more clumsy than most people. About the only place she felt confident was surrounded by the sea and her senior citizens. Take her out of her element, and she turned klutzy. She'd embarrassed David so many times in the three years they'd been married it was a wonder he hadn't considered putting her out of her misery.
Most likely, he'd been waiting for her to do it herself.
And she almost had, the day she'd stopped by David's office and found a red-headed bombshell missing some clothes sitting on his lap. Willa had taken Jennifer's hand, turned and walked away, and
gotten into her car and driven off. At least she'd remembered to fasten Jennifer's seat belt. Otherwise, her niece would likely be dead.
A normal woman would have screamed and torn that bimbo off her husband's lap, then sued David for divorce, along with every dime she could get from the slimy worm. Instead, she had maimed her innocent niece.
Recovering in the same hospital as Jennifer, only to walk out eventually, had made Willa realize that her own children were better off unborn. She'd been known to poison people with her cooking, she'd broken more dishes than she could count, and she'd gotten into enough mishaps as a child to gray her mother's hair prematurely.
She couldn't do it again. She couldn't marry a man and watch him grow exasperated, then impatient, and eventually angry. Indifference would follow shortly, and the marriage would finally die a bitter death. And this time, with a man as good and strong as any of the Sinclair men, Willa would die with it. She stood up finally and squared her shoulders for the coming battle. She was leaving Rosebriar. Tonight. She was going home, locking all the doors, and keeping the world at bay. Maybe next week, she'd be able to think clearly enough to find a way to make sure Tidewater International remained intact and the grandsons got their rightful inheritance.
Yes. She would fix this mess or die trying.
Chapter Nine
Willa's nose woke upbefore her eyes did, to the pungent aroma of a sour-mash distillery. She tried to wipe the odor away but couldn't seem to move her hand. Nor could she feel her arms. Apparently, they didn't want to wake up, either.
She finally forced her eyes open, only to snap them shut with a groan. Oh, Lord, she was waking up in bed with the grandsons. Thank God she was fully dressed.
Still, Willa was reluctant to open her eyes again and find out exactly whose arm was pinning her down. And whose leg was thrown over her thighs. No wonder most of her body was asleep; the man weighed a ton.
Oh, God, was it Sam?
The men had led her up to Abram's room, pulling her into the celebration of their grandfather's life with drunken charm. Another bottle of brandy had come upstairs with them, but she had refused to drink any, still queasy from her previous night's scotch marathon.