Terms of Surrender Read online

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  Contents:

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  Epilogue

  © 2004

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  One

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  "Promise me."

  Believing he'd misheard his dying father's whispered words, David Taylor knelt beside the massive oak bed and leaned closer. "Promise you what?" he asked softly. Considering their estranged relationship, he wondered what could be so important that his father would ask anything of him.

  "Promise me you'll take care of Tanya."

  That he hadn't expected. Of all the possibilities of what Edward Taylor would ask, David would never have thought of Tanya Winters.

  Drawing in a deep breath, he looked into fatigued blue eyes. The figure lying before him no longer seemed the father who had been so strict and difficult through most of David's life. Now he saw him as a man, a shadow of the forceful figure he'd seen through the eyes of a child. At sixty, his hair, once light brown, had turned nearly white. Rapid loss of weight had left his skin wrinkled and pasty. Cancer had taken him down quickly.

  "Father, I—"

  "Promise!" Edward gasped for breath as he made a feeble effort to grab his son's arm.

  "I promise," David said quickly, knowing there was little else he could do to ease his father's mind in his last moments. "Easy, now." He tightened his hand on his father's and encouraged him to lie back, wincing at the inflection of pain in the older man's eyes. "I'll take care of her. You have my word."

  It wasn't an easy promise to make, David thought, as Edward succumbed to the weakness of his body and eased back to rest on the mattress. Since arriving at Cottonwood Plantation in Georgia, David had seen Tanya Winters, his father's employee, only a few minutes. But that had been long enough to stir up old, unwanted memories of his own deep-seated awareness of her—an awareness that hadn't dissipated in the five years he'd been away.

  And from the way she'd greeted him with barely restrained disdain, she hadn't forgotten their heated parting. But there would be time to deal with Tanya later. Right now, his father was all that mattered.

  He looked at his father's still body, his closed eyes. David almost hadn't made it back in time. His father's personal physician, Mason Brewer, standing only a few feet away, had informed him it wasn't likely Edward would make it through the day. David swallowed past the knot in his throat. He still couldn't believe his father was dying.

  "We'd better get Tanya," Dr. Brewer stated in a quiet voice.

  Their eyes met. David nodded and stood. He'd spent less than thirty private minutes with his father, and he supposed that at some point during that time, the two of them had made a peace of sorts. They'd never gotten along, and now they would never have the chance to make things totally right between them.

  David's mother, Eloise, had died when he was ten, and after the loss of his wife, Edward had never been the same. As a child, David had tried to please his father. As a teenager, he'd given up trying when nothing he'd said or done seemed to bridge the gap between them. After graduating college, he'd moved away. His decision not to stay and help run his father's peanut plantation had widened an already emotional chasm between them.

  So he'd left the plantation just outside of Cotton Creek, a rural town an hour's distance from Savannah, determined to make his own way in life. And he'd done well. His Atlanta-based acquisitions and mergers company, Taylor Corp., had made him successful and affluent. But it seemed that even that hadn't been enough to gain his father's approval.

  The door opened and he looked over to see Tanya Winters enter the room. His gaze followed her movements as she slowly walked across the floor, her body fluid and graceful. As a seventeen-year-old, she'd been cute; as a woman, well, stunning was the only way to describe her.

  But despite her slim, athletic body, she seemed to be barely holding up under the strain of Edward's illness. She'd pulled her straight, amber-blond hair into a ponytail at the nape of her neck, baring absolutely flawless skin. Her amber-gold eyes, swollen and red from crying, were filled with sadness.

  As David stepped aside, she glanced at him, then just as easily dismissed him, giving her complete attention to his father. Though her movements seemed effortless, he sensed the energy it took to gather herself together and approach the bed.

  She sat beside his father and leaned close to him. "I'm here, Edward," she whispered, her voice trembling. Slim fingers lifted his father's wrinkled hand and held it as she stroked his forehead with her other hand.

  She spoke close to his ear, and he saw the old man's craggy face change, his eyes momentarily brighten. A weak smile formed on his dry lips. David's awareness of Tanya warred with jealousy and resentment. He hadn't expected to feel anything for her, but the minute she'd greeted him at the door, he'd realized that leaving hadn't done a thing to get her out of his system.

  From her cool looks, apparently she hadn't forgiven his transgressions that last day he'd been at Cottonwood, when he'd dragged her in his arms and kissed her before walking out the door. While David felt like an outsider in his family home, she appeared at ease, as if she had more right to be there than he did.

  She'd come to live at Cottonwood as an intern through a program designed to help underprivileged youth. His father had taken an immediate liking to the young waif. By the looks of things, their relationship had grown deeper—they'd formed a stronger bond than David had ever shared with his father. He turned away to give them privacy.

  Hearing a sharp gasp, he turned back and looked, his eyes immediately focusing on her. In what seemed like slow-motion, Dr. Brewer rushed over and withdrew his stethoscope. Tanya slumped on the bedside. As if it were perfectly natural, as if he hadn't been away for years, David went to her. Sliding his arm around her shoulders, he drew her away. Despite her disdain for him, she'd cared deeply for his father.

  David's gaze found the doctor's, and he quietly confirmed the worst. His father was gone.

  On a soft cry, Tanya turned into David's embrace and buried her head against his shoulder. His heart heavy, David nodded to Dr. Brewer. He started to lead Tanya from the room, but she stiffened and tried to pull free. "You can't do anything for him now, Tanya," he said gently. "Come on."

  Shaking with grief and despair, Tanya Winters broke down in tears as David led her out of the bedroom, down the stairs and into the sitting room. Bright sunlight shone through massive windows, an almost painful contrast to the emptiness she felt inside. The only person on earth she cared about was gone. What was she going to do without him?

  A fresh wave of anguish overcame her. Hot tears streamed down her cheeks, robbing her of strength, and she clung to David for support. He held her tightly, keeping her from crumbling, whispering that everything would be all right.

  Oh, she wanted so much to believe it would be. But it wasn't possible, was it? The man who'd given her a chance when no one else would help her was gone. She'd come a long way from the homeless teenager that Edward Taylor had taken in five years ago. Standing in the huge, immaculate room, she looked around, searching for solace in the familiar surroundings. The floral print settee. The massive, hand-carved mantel over the fireplace. This magnificent plantation in Georgia was the only place she had to call home.

  Her life before moving here remained a mystery to her. She still didn't remember how, at seventeen, she'd ended up lying unconscious on a rural road with a concussion, which had left her with retrograde amnesia. All she really knew was what the hospital staff had said her identification provided—that she was Tanya Winters, a streetwise kid who had no family to claim her. By a stroke of luck, Edward Taylor had heard of her plight and had offered her a second chance and an opportunity to work on his peanut farm.


  She'd learned so much from him, had worked alongside him, devouring his attention and knowledge. With stiff competition from other farmers, it had become increasingly difficult to continue making a reasonable profit selling peanuts. At her urging, he'd changed their major crop from peanuts to soybeans. Tanya had researched the growing soybean industry, and she'd provided Edward with a plethora of information with which to make an informed decision. The farm was currently turning a larger profit than it had in years.

  Oh, God, what would become of her now? She loved this house and the land and the people who worked here. She loved the small, quaint town of Cotton Creek, where everyone accepted her for who she was. They didn't care that she came from poor beginnings. Now that his father was gone, would David let her stay and continue managing Cottonwood?

  As if that was going to happen. After their hurtful parting years ago, she was amazed that he was even offering her the comfort of his arms. The summer she'd arrived, he'd returned from college, and though she'd harbored a crush on him, he'd barely tolerated her. David had fought with his father over nearly everything, and at the end of the summer, announced he was leaving. Wanting him to stay, she'd made a fool of herself and had thrown herself at him. He'd kissed her senseless, then had thrust her away from him and stormed out.

  His rejection had been devastating.

  But she was no longer that shy, wayward teen. Edward had molded her, had taught her to be proud of who she was. And now, more than ever, she had to be strong.

  Her tears began to subside. Aware that David was still holding her, she raised her head and met his gaze. "I'm sorry." Disturbed by the flare of awareness at his nearness, Tanya moved out of his embrace, not wanting him to know that she still cared, that he could still make her feel. It was the grief, she rationalized. Her emotions were just out of whack.

  She sniffed and met his gaze again. His piercing blue eyes studied her, and in that moment, the shock of realizing she was still attracted to him was nothing compared to her growing anger. Though she knew that father and son hadn't gotten along well, she was disappointed that he hadn't returned home immediately when he'd learned of his father's illness. "What happened, David?" she demanded, pausing before one of the long, narrow windows in the room. "Why did it take you so long to get home?"

  "When you called, I was out of the country." His lips twisted briefly. "I ran into some unexpected delays because of bad weather on the west coast. I got here as soon as I could."

  She stared at him, her gaze hard and unrelenting. "Your father became seriously ill two months ago."

  "What?"

  Tanya searched his expression, then she realized that she'd truly caught him off-guard. "You didn't know?"

  "I had no idea."

  "But he told me that he'd called you," she insisted. "I asked him several times to try to make amends with you."

  "Hell would have frozen over before he would have admitted needing my help." David shoved his hands in his pockets. "We talked briefly a couple of months ago, but he never mentioned that he was sick. I haven't heard from him since." Though Tanya seemed surprised that his father hadn't confided in him about his illness, David wasn't. Until the very end, their relationship had been strained.

  She drew in a breath, then nodded. "He said he had called you, but he never told me what the two of you had discussed. I'd assumed he'd informed you that his health was declining. I asked if you were coming home. Your father said no." Her gaze held his. "I thought it was because you didn't care about him."

  "I didn't know he was sick," he assured her. "The first I heard of him being so ill was when I received your message two days ago. I'd have come back sooner if I'd known."

  "Really?" Tanya wanted to believe him, wanted to believe he wasn't the callous, selfish person she thought him to be. But his absence the past five years told another story. If he'd cared about his father, he would have tried harder to understand him.

  "I guess there are funeral arrangements that need to be made," David said, changing the subject. He didn't want to discuss his feelings for his father. Not with Tanya.

  Tears filled her eyes, then spilled down her cheeks. She brushed them away with her fingers. "No. Edward had talked with his lawyer and everything has been taken care of. I tried to help him, but he insisted that I had enough to do managing the plantation."

  "Managing the plantation?" David stared at her in disbelief. "You're the manager?" he asked, his tone incredulous.

  Tanya lifted her chin. "Yes." He approached her, stopping only a few feet away, his questioning gaze fueling her irritation.

  "You're way too young and inexperienced to be handling this entire plantation."

  "Too young?" she repeated, clearly insulted. "Who do you think has been taking care of everything since your father became ill?"

  "I'm sure you've been doing the best you could for the past couple of months, but I find it difficult to believe that you can handle this place on your own."

  Tanya couldn't believe his arrogance. "Actually, due to your father's worsening condition, I've been running the farm for quite a while. Besides handling the daily operations, I've installed a computer system, bringing the office and the accounting procedures into the twenty-first century. I also take care of this house and supervise the entire staff." Five people shared the duties of the household and grounds. Edward had taken great pride in his ancestral home.

  "You've made yourself right at home, haven't you?" David's quiet voice was coated with a tinge of accusation. If the old man had put the entire plantation in Tanya's immature hands, maybe his father's illness had gone to his mind. Then another thought hit him. Maybe Tanya had manipulated his father in order to inherit his fortune. She'd arrived a streetwise teen, far from innocent. Living at Cottonwood with servants at her beck and call wasn't something she'd want to give up. And because he'd been away for years, she would have had plenty of time to work her name into his father's will.

  David shouldn't care. But this was about more than just money. He knew what it was like to be burned by a woman. He'd broken up with his ex-fiancé, Melanie, when he'd figured out that she'd only been interested in him because of his wealth. Thank God he'd come to his senses and had seen her for the gold digger that she was before he'd walked down the aisle.

  And he'd be damned if he'd stand by and see everything his father worked for put in Tanya Winters's name.

  "Made myself at home? What do you mean by that?" Tanya felt as if she'd been slapped.

  Jealousy got the best of David. That, in addition to fighting his own awareness of her, egged him on to find out exactly what kind of relationship she'd had with his father. "What else have you been doing for my father?" He looked at her mouth, could still remember the effect she had on him when he'd kissed her. And how hard it had been to walk away from her and the plantation.

  "That's insulting to me and offensive to your father's memory," Tanya grated through clenched teeth. "Your father—" she began, then had to stop when her voice broke. She took a breath, then tried again. "Your father was very kind to me. He gave me a home, a place to belong."

  The churning in David's gut subsided. That Tanya hadn't had an intimate relationship with his father pleased him more than it should have. "I was out of line. I'm sorry."

  "Thank you for that." But she didn't sound appeased.

  He raised a brow. "Your memory hasn't returned?"

  She shook her head, sadness filling her. God, she wished it had. Still, she didn't admit to him that lately she'd been experiencing odd sensations, a strange perception of … something. Tanya wasn't convinced that the odd happenings weren't just her imagination. Not wanting to trouble Edward, she hadn't even told him, nor had she mentioned the intense, disturbing dreams she'd started having over the past month. "I still don't remember anything before waking up in the hospital."

  Still too vivid was the fear that smothered her when she had awakened in strange surroundings. She hadn't known a soul. And, oh God, the panic when she'd rea
lized that she hadn't even known her own name. According to the police, she had been a street kid with an impressive juvenile record who was scheduled to move into a group home. Offering her a chance to turn her life around, Edward had saved her from that horrible experience.

  "So you stayed on at Cottonwood out of gratitude?"

  "In the beginning." It had been fear, mostly. Because there had been nothing else for her. She'd needed something, someone to cling to.

  "Ah, I see."

  "Do you?" There was doubt in his eyes. He'd been away for years. She dismissed his attitude as ignorance. "I've handled the daily operations of the plantation for almost a year. Though at the time Edward didn't know he was ill, he'd begun to slow down. Your father relied on me to keep things going."

  He studied her for a long moment. "There's a lot more to running this plantation besides growing peanuts."

  He doesn't know, her mind whispered. He has no idea that the plantation no longer produces peanuts. Tanya opened her mouth to tell him, then stopped herself, deciding to wait to drop that news on him.

  "I know that." She straightened her shoulders. Well over six feet, he towered over her five-foot-six-inch frame, but she refused to be intimidated by him. "I've computerized the schedule of crop rotation for the next five years." Along with changing the main crop to soybeans, the plantation grew cotton. Rotation of crops was important to fight disease and insure a successful harvest year after year. "And I personally negotiated a health insurance plan for your father's permanent employees. I haven't exactly been living off of your father."

  "I didn't mean to imply that you don't work."

  "Yes, you did."

  She had him there, David thought. Apparently Tanya was in more control of the plantation than he'd realized. It was going to make it that much tougher to tell her that she was out of a job.

  "Look. I really don't want to argue with you. I'll take your word that you've been running things as well as you could." David hadn't seen the accounts, so he wasn't about to compliment her on her success.