“Have you heard from the lawyers? Are they going forward with the lawsuit?”
There was a pause. I knew I was probably overstepping my boundaries by asking because Ox liked to think no one knew he was being sued, and he liked it that way. But then he cleared his throat and sighed.
“Luna Walsh assures me that her father is not part of the lawsuit, which is a good thing. Maybe it’s not as bad as I thought. I just assumed they were all in it, but if he’s not, maybe it’s just one or two of my father’s investors, and maybe if I can find out who is behind it, I can find out what the real motive is.”
“Do you think there’s more going on here?”
“I think…” He stopped, grew quiet again. Then, “I think it’s very complicated and that I’m missing a whole chunk of what’s happening. If I could just figure this thing out…”
“If there’s anything I can do to help, you know I’m here for you, Ox.”
“I know, Skylar. And I appreciate it. But I think this is a family thing and I’m going to have to bite the bullet and let my brother in on it. Maybe together we can figure it all out.”
“I hope so.”
“I appreciate your offer, Skylar. But you’re on personal time and I should allow you to get back to it. Have a good week and get home safe—and quick!”
“I will.”
I hung up, a little smile refusing to stay away from my lips. Ox was… I couldn’t begin to describe my feelings for Oxley Winn. He was intelligent and hardworking, he was strong and kind, rough around the edges, but gentle when the situation called for it. He was the kind of man I’d always imagined my father had been. The very definition of a man’s man.
There are few people in the world I look up to. My mother had taught me at a very young age that you can’t always trust the people who are supposed to be in charge. Life had taught me that very few people warrant admiration. But Ox was different. He was one person who was everything he wanted the world to believe he was. I admired him. And I was honored to be a trusted ally in his world.
I almost felt guilty that I wasn’t at work with him right now.
I took a deep breath and climbed out of that monstrosity of a vehicle, jumping from the seat to the step to the ground. It was jarring to every joint in my body. It took me a second to get my bearings before I could go into the diner and find my wayward husband. Of course he was sitting at the counter, flirting with a waitress.
“I’m only in town for a few days, but if you had a night off…”
“Prescott, we should go.”
He looked up, irritation clear in his expression as he studied my face. “Finish your phone call?”
“Skylar George? Is that you?”
The woman Prescott had been talking to turned toward me, a bright smile revealing her perfect white teeth. Miranda Lowell. We’d played together off and on over the years during my visits to Great-Gran’s, played being a subjective term. She would tell me what to do and I would do it was more realistic.
Her eyes moved slowly over the length of me, taking in the heavy black slacks and long, dark blouse I wore over it, my long hair in twin ponytails that were shedding strands of hair here and there. She hesitated on my combat boots for a brief second, then on the bright-purple scarf that was tied around my neck like a necktie. She shook her head slowly.
“You haven’t changed, have you? Still as unique as ever.”
“Better unique than a conformist.”
“Same old Skylar.”
“Can we go, Prescott? Great-Gran is waiting.”
“You’re with her?” Miranda asked Prescott like I wasn’t even standing there. The look on her face made it clear she wasn’t impressed by his choice of companions. Prescott looked from her to me, a little uncertainty in his eyes. I didn’t want to hear what his response would be. I already knew I was a source of embarrassment to him. Why he’d asked me to marry him and not one of the other, prettier girls at the office, I would never understand.
I left the diner and stomped back to the Hummer, using the key fob to unlock it. The only problem was, I was still too short to get all the way inside. I tried, lifting a leg up over the edge of the doorjamb, twisting this way and that, even tried jumping. But I couldn’t get into the damn thing all by myself!
“We’ll have to get you a stepladder.”
Prescott’s voice was warm in my ear as he climbed up behind me and lifted me into the seat. Heat rushed through me at the feel of his hands on my waist, the brush of his breath on my neck. I wanted to turn into him, wrap my arms around his neck, but he was gone before the thought could even totally form in my mind.
I started the massive car and pulled out of the parking lot, not even glancing in Prescott’s direction. The road twisted and turned, taking us into the heart of the small town—it was a pretty little place with small shops on either side of a well-kept street, people actually out walking and talking to one another, waving as cars passed by—and then out again. We traveled up into a swell of foothills and then back down again, rushing toward the ocean. Prescott was tired the entire drive, watching the scenery like a tourist who’d arrived at the wrong destination. But then we took another curve and the long stretch of wrought-iron fence began to unwind into the pretty gate that marked the front of Great-Gran’s property.
I plugged in a personal code in the device outside the gate that allowed it to slowly retract into the bushes. The Hummer echoed off the trees as we drove down the long drive, trees and bushes lining the way from the gate to the front lawn. Then the vegetation just opened up, exposing a lovely expanse of grass that was broken in a few places by pretty flower beds bordered by heavy stones taken from a local quarry. And then, of course, stood the house, rising high above the lane where it ended in a lovely circle drive.
“Hell, no!”
Prescott leaned forward, staring up at the house as we approached. He practically had his nose against the glass as he studied the stone façade of the impressive building, something that probably reminded him of the grand estates of his home country. It was a towering thing—four stories—that sat like a block from a child’s playset. Great-Gran liked to tell everyone it was based off the Elizabethan architecture that was common in England in the sixteenth century. The stones were a dark gray, the design simple yet elegant. The family name was carved in the stone above the door, the windows were mullioned, and the roof sported five banqueting-house pavilions. Smaller than an English manor house, it was still as impressive and lovely as anything I’d ever seen in an architecture book.
“This is your grandmother’s house?”
“This is the family home.” I threw the transmission of the Hummer into park and cut the engine before turning to look up at the place. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
“Beautiful? It looks like a damn duke’s house!”
“Great-Gran told me that my great-great-great-grandfather traveled often, and he visited a home in Derbyshire that he greatly admired. Upon returning from that visit, he hired an architect and asked him to recreate the home here.”
“No kidding?”
“No kidding. This house replaced another that had been built on the property back when the family first settled in the area. And it’s been passed down to the eldest son since. But obviously there is no eldest son to inherit it now.”
“Your father didn’t have any brothers or sisters?”
“No. His father died when he was young. He was an only child, like me.”
“That’s too bad. What will happen to the place now?”
I shrugged. “I have no idea. Great-Gran and I don’t talk about that sort of thing much.”
I opened the door and jumped down out of the Hummer, my joints all rattling once again. Prescott met me at the steps, holding out a hand to help me to the door. I took it, always a little surprised by his chivalry. At times he could be so cold, distant, but at others he was kind and polite, the kind of guy I always imagined anyone’s Prince Charming would be. He was complica
ted, but aren’t we all?
The door opened of its own accord as we approached, a stranger standing in the entrance as some sort of barrier between me and the only home I’d ever really known.
“Mrs. George is indisposed at the moment. You’ll have to come back tomorrow.”
“I’m her great-granddaughter, Skylar George. We’ve come to visit.”
The man in full butler gear—dark suit and a jacket with tails—studied me for a moment, no change to his indifferent expression. I wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do there for a moment, but then he stood aside.
“Please wait in the foyer.”
We stepped inside, Prescott experiencing a sharp intake of breath as he took in the expensive furnishings, the priceless artwork hanging on the walls and the Chinese vase that sat in one corner like an umbrella stand. I, on the other hand, only noticed the reflection in the long mirror across from me. This outfit wasn’t quite what I’d imagined it would be when I’d put it on this morning. I tugged at the blouse, trying to drag a few wrinkles out of the heavy fabric.
“Skylar?”
I turned and squealed as I threw myself into the arms of the man who’d just come into the room. He laughed, too, picking me up and swinging me around the wide foyer.
“I can’t believe you’re here!”
“I’m so glad you are. Who was that who answered the door?”
“Carl. He’s a part-time butler.”
“What about Johnny?”
“He broke his hip last spring, so we hired some help. It was hell getting him to take time off!”
“I can imagine.”
Prescott cleared his throat, forcing me to pull my eyes away from this tall, blond hunk who’d been such a big part of my childhood. I slipped my hand into his and drew him toward Prescott, waving a hand between the two men as I offered introductions.
“Zander, this is Prescott Armstrong.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Armstrong.”
Prescott tilted his head slightly, but accepted the hand Zander offered him.
“Zander is an old friend. His father is butler, chauffeur, gardener, bodyguard, handyman… just about everything around here.”
“Still is, to hear him tell it,” Zander said. “But he’s slowly letting me take over more and more of the duties around the place.”
“Just not butler duties?”
Zander shrugged. “Dressing up in those tails was never my sort of thing.”
“Not Johnny’s, either, as I recall.” I turned into Zander and giggled. “I’m so glad to see you. That man opened the door and I thought, oh, geez, have I really been gone that long?”
“You have. A lot of things have changed around here, Skylar.” A sadness came into Zander’s eyes for a brief moment. “But we’ll talk about that later. I bet you would like to go in and see Aurora.”
“Definitely.”
Zander began to pull me into him, to lead me through the massive house, but he caught sight of Prescott again. I could almost feel the tension that came into his body as he looked the other man over. I held out a hand to Prescott, but he gestured toward the front door.
“I’ll just get the bags.”
“I’ll send Carl out to do that,” Zander informed him.
“I wouldn’t want to put anyone out.”
“You aren’t. That’s his job.” Zander gave me a look almost as though he was wondering where I’d found Prescott. “The maid will make up rooms for the two of you and then—”
“One room will be fine.”
My eyebrows rose. Zander glanced from Prescott to me, a little frown touching his full lips. Prescott stood his ground, gesturing toward the ring I’d forgotten I wore on my left ring finger.
“She’s my wife. We should share a room.”
“You’re married?” Zander asked, something like disappointment dripping from his tone. But then he forced a laughed and wrapped his arms around me once more. “Congratulations!”
I shot a look at Prescott, wondering what the hell he was up to. That was the first time he’d ever told someone just out of the blue like that. Normally he pretended I didn’t exist. He didn’t have to do that. Was he thinking that Zander already knew or something?
Maybe. And that would be my fault.
Zander stepped back, casting a look from me to Prescott. Then he shook his head.
“That’s incredible, kid. I’m so happy for you.” He hesitated a moment longer, then took my hand again. “Let’s go find Aurora.”
I glanced over my shoulder. Prescott followed, his expression as inscrutable as ever.
And then I forgot everything when we walked into my great-gran’s little study and I saw her… When had she become so small? So frail? Who was that woman?
Something was wrong here, something more than I’d imagined.
“Great-Gran?”
She seemed to cast blindly around, searching for the sound of my voice. But then her face lit up and she held out her hands to me.
“Skylar! You’ve come to rescue me!”
“I’m here, Great-Gran,” I said, resting my arms carefully around her frail shoulders. She clung to me, stronger than she looked, a small sob slipping from between her lips.
What the hell was happening here? What did she think I was here to rescue her from?
Did she need to be rescued?
Chapter 4
Prescott
I unzipped my suitcase and began taking handfuls of folded clothing out, setting it inside the dresser Skylar had allotted me. It reminded me a little of the night I’d moved into her condo—was it really nearly two years ago?—hanging things in her massive closet and asking repeatedly if she was sure this was what she wanted to do.
We hadn’t had much choice back then. We did now.
“You didn’t have to insist on sharing a room.”
“Your great-grandmother knows we’re married. He would have figured it out quickly enough. What do you think they would have thought if we didn’t share a room?”
Skylar shrugged her narrow shoulders as she dug through her old suitcase—if you could call it that, what with the zipper broken and the corners held together with tape—not appearing to actually look for anything in particular. She was just digging.
“Let me help you.”
I pulled her back, my hands resting on her upper arms. She resisted a moment, but then moved back against my chest. It was funny how she fit against me, this woman who seemed so larger than life whenever she walked into a room. But she wasn’t. She was just a tiny slip of a thing, so small I could probably break her if I fell on her wrong.
“I lied to you,” she said softly.
“About what?”
“No one here knows that we’re married. I just said that to get you to come.”
“I think I already knew that.”
She pulled away and threw herself into a chair that was situated near an impressively tall window. This room… the whole thing was like something out of an old television show. It was a guest bedroom, but it was bigger than Skylar’s entire condo back in San Antonio. There was a massive king-sized bed in the center of the room that was made of solid wood, the headboard and footboard intricately decorated with complicated carvings that must have been done by hand. And it must have taken the artist days to complete. Then there were the four legs that shot up into the air and held a lacy canopy that made me feel like I’d walked into some sort of harem or something. And that was just the bed. There were several dressers, a wardrobe, and a massive cabinet that held a television and all the accoutrements that one might require for entertainment. And then there was the bathroom that was large enough for an entire football team to bathe in, the closet with its rows and rows of built-in shelves. Then there was the dressing room that was traditionally furnished, including a couch in case we should have a row and want to sleep in separate rooms.
I felt like I’d wandered onto the set of Downton Abbey or something.
“Tell me what’
s going on.”
Skylar was quiet, her knees pulled up to her chest, her chin resting on her hands. She stared out the window, an uncharacteristic frown on her pretty face.
“I don’t know. That’s the problem.”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you see that woman downstairs? That’s not my great-gran!”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, that woman is old and frail. My great-gran… she’s a force to be reckoned with. She runs this house like it’s a business all on its own. She has friends, a book club and bridge games; she goes to tea parties and luncheons. She doesn’t lie in bed and beg people to rescue her!”
“People get old, Sky.” I knelt in front of her and rested my hands on her calves. “I know it’s hard to see, but—”
“I was here last year, and she was not like that then.”
“She’s got to be in her eighties. People who live that long tend to go downhill in a hurry once they hit that wall.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand.”
“Then make me understand.”
She stared out the window, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. She shook her head again after a moment, pushing my hands away with a brush of her own before she unfolded herself and got up.
“We should dress for dinner.”
“They dress for dinner around here?”
She didn’t respond. Instead, she disappeared into the bathroom and a second later I could hear water splashing in the sink. I pulled myself up to my feet and stood close to the window, looking down into the garden that spread out below, a beautiful expanse of land that slowly sloped down into the crashing waves of the Pacific Ocean. It made me think of a trip to Ireland my family once took, a vacation that was meant to be the pinnacle of a successful year, but turned more into a nightmare. I’d nearly drowned in the ocean that summer. Just seeing those waves made a shiver rush down my spine.
I turned away and returned to the unpacking, putting my things in drawers that were much too expensive to be burdened with my off-the-rack clothing. Done with my own things, I turned to Skylar’s bag, wondering if she’d want her clothing put away. The box for her wedding ring was sitting on top of her clothes, a lovely blue box with a velvet lining. I picked it up and turned it round in my hands. She’d bought it herself. It was her idea—the ring—so she’d picked it out and paid for it, insisting it would give more strength to the story we were feeding the INS. She’d really saved my ass by agreeing to play along with this little game we were engaged in. Not that going back to England would have been that big of a deal, but it would have meant losing my job with Caballo and having to start all over when I came back.
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