Free Warning at Eagle's Watch by Christine Bush Page A

young man beside her.
    He lived alone in a small apartment in New York City and made his living by "buying and selling" anything he could get his hands on. He ran his own rather unorthodox business, handling an assortment of items, from antiques, furniture, and jewelry, to real estate. He called himself a "jack of all trades" in the selling market, not even trying to hide the pride and confidence he felt in his work.
    "It sounds as though you do pretty well for yourself," Hillary commented after a while. She watched him anxiously to see his reaction, wanting to hear him disavow any need for his great-aunt's inheritance.
    But typical of Mitchell, he threw his head back and laughed with fervor. "Hillary, I swear I can see right through you. I'm sorry, my dear, but I won't say that I am not in need of Aunt Priscilla's money. And if I did say such a thing, it would be blatantly naive of you to believe me. Truthfully, I would sorely love to have a say in what will happen to this place after she has gone. I would adore the freedom it would give me.
    "However," he said, and his rakish grin returned, "it is easy to see that the issue is not an important one at the moment. She's in better health than the rest of us put together, and as an adorably good sport, I truly hope that she stays that way. So, now I've made my confession. Do you think less of me?"
    He reached out and took her hand and smiled brightly into her green eyes. He made her feel very funny inside. After all, at least he was honest about his intentions. And you really couldn't blame anyone for wishing that an inheritance would come his way. Or could you?
    "Now, take that old Uncle Arnold, for instance. I swear, he'd sell us all to the gypsies to get his hands on the money. And that's no exaggeration. He has always complained that he had a right to some of it anyway, that his mother, who was Priscilla’s aunt, had been wrongly disinherited for eloping with an unsuitable scoundrel way back in the dark ages. Perhaps it was unfair, but it's all water under the bridge now. That man hasn't done a day's work in his entire life, and spends the greater part of his time traveling from one estate to the next, portable house guest to any gentry who will have him, and are stupid enough to put up with him.
    "At least you can't put me in that category, Hillary. I do work for a living!"
    She laughed at his mocking self-defense. "And what about the Highfields?"
    "Oh, they are a pair, I'll tell you. He has a little bad habit that keeps cropping up and setting them back a bit. It's called gambling. I must say, he's about the worst that I've ever seen. He can't resist a bet, no matter what the odds.
    "If you bet him that the sun would go down this evening, he'd bet money that it wouldn't. They spend the better part of their days trying to clear up all the bets and bad debts. He works for some big corporation in Buffalo, but never makes enough to keep his little lady in the manner to which she'd like to be accustomed. He's a rather inoffensive little fellow. I feel rather sorry for him. But she's a tough old bird."
    "You don't sound like you have too much affection for your relatives."
    "Affection. That's a new word in our family vocabulary. We can't stand each other, and Aunt Priscilla can't stand any of us either. But we keep coming back for more, still hoping to be the one she dislikes the least, the one who'll end up with the prize when the time comes. We always figured it would have to be one of us. After all, who else?"
    He paused, and his dark eyes were suddenly looking deeply into Hillary's. "And how about you, Hillary Holt? Why are you here? Was there any truth to the bomb of a rumor that Aunt Priscilla alluded to at lunch today? Are you destined to be the new heiress of Eagle's Watch?"
    Her mouth hung open in wonder. What should she say? She wished with all of her heart that she could tell him the things that Scotty had planned, to clear her name and show that she had nothing to