“Are you still married?”
He shook his head. “No. My folks arranged an annulment when they found us a month later. Sent her to a school in Ireland to help her get away from her father, then sent me to the States. They thought if we were an ocean apart, we’d forget about each other.”
“Did you?”
He rolled a shoulder, his gaze falling to his hands where they were worrying each other in his lap. He looked, for a moment, like the sixteen-year-old boy he must have been. “She wrote to me every day for weeks. She was heartbroken, but I… once there was some distance, I realized that there was more to life than just that one pretty girl, you know?” He chuckled halfheartedly. “That sounds really shallow, doesn’t it?”
“You were a teenager.”
“I was a child.” His eyes came back up to mine. “I knew if I went back, I’d have to face not only the mess I’d left behind; I’d have to make explanations to my family, to my friends, and to her. Mum tells me she comes back to Hereford from time to time, that she’s got a good job in Dublin and she seems happy, but she asks about me every time they see each other.”
“You’re hiding.”
“Yeah.” He smiled that crooked grin that made me fall for him the moment we met. “I don’t like conflict. And I really don’t like hurting anyone.”
“So, you enter into another crazy, ill-planned marriage to avoid the fallout from your last marriage.” I giggled because it just seemed so absurd to me. “Sounds like a great plan!”
“Yes, well, when I was told that marrying an American would save my ass, it was the last thing I wanted to do. But then…”
He stopped, cutting off his words and moving his gaze, almost like he had been about to reveal something he didn’t want to admit to and caught himself just in time.
I leaned forward in my chair and shook his knees lightly. “But then what?”
He touched the tops of my hands, his fingers lingering for a moment before he pulled away. “But then nothing. I don’t know what I was about to say.”
“Sure, you do. You just don’t want to tell me.”
“Maybe.”
“Why not?” I sat up, shrugging off the afghan as I crossed my arms over my chest. “Were you going to say, ‘But then I saw this naïve, vulnerable girl and decided to take advantage of her? This pathetic girl I knew had a crush on me and would do anything for me?’ ”
An expression of outrage filled his handsome features. “Is that really what you think? Is that what you think of me?”
I busied myself readjusting my position on the chair, pulling my legs up under my bottom. “Maybe that’s what I think of myself.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Why not?” A sudden wave of self-pity washed over me. “You can’t look at this—” I waved a hand over myself, indicating my appearance “—and not think something like that.”
“Do you know what I think when I look at you?” Prescott asked as he leaned forward, his hands touching my knees this time. But he didn’t leave them on my knees; he let them skim upward a little, brushing the bottom hem of my T-shirt. “I think you’re beautiful and unique and kind and gentle and everything a good man deserves in the woman he chooses to spend his life with.”
I choked a little on the lump of tears that rose in my throat. “Jeez, Prescott! You sure know how to charm the shit out of a woman!”
“Why do you have such a hard time believing that someone might like you? Why can’t you believe that someone could find you attractive?”
“Because I’ve lived my entire life with a mother who never cared a whit about me except when my great-gran wanted to spend time with me. Because I grew up an outsider in every home I ever lived in. Because my peers never saw me, and when they did, they saw a pathetic, awkward girl who was simply in the way.”
“But you’re not that girl anymore. You’re a grown woman who’s made herself indispensable in her work, who’s made herself a part of an unconventional—but committed nonetheless—family, who’s given up her home and her privacy to save a friend’s ass!”
“Have I? Or have I just proven more completely what a fool I can be?”
Prescott sat back, defeat apparent in the way he slammed his hands onto the arms of the chair. “You are the most frustrating woman I have ever met! You have an argument for every word that comes out of my mouth!” He shook his head almost violently. “I hope Ox knows what the hell he’s getting into with you!”
He launched himself out of his chair and headed for the dressing room, his feet making an unusually large amount of noise as he stomped.
“What does Ox have to do with anything?” I demanded, climbing out of my own chair.
Prescott stopped and turned, staring at me like I’d just said the craziest thing he’d ever heard in all his life. He began to turn, but changed his mind, his whole body turning in my direction again. One more time, it seemed that he might go back to the dressing room, but then he suddenly charged in my direction, his hands seemingly huge as he cupped them around my jaw, lifting my head toward his as his fingers slid deep into my tangled hair. And then his mouth was on mine, stealing a kiss that could only be called passionate, his lips softer than I ever could have imagined, his breath sweeter than I could reasonably anticipate this late in the night.
I was caught off guard. I hadn’t seen this coming in anything he’d said or done these past few minutes. I didn’t know if I should respond or pull away, if I should wrap my arms around his neck, or slap him with all the force I could muster. That was my mind. My body, on the other hand, knew what it wanted. A sigh like nothing that had ever come from my lips slipped out as my lips parted, welcoming him to anything he might want to sample. My bones softened, my body curving into his, my nipples standing to attention and tingling as they rubbed against his chest through the material of my tee. My hands, seemingly at a loss as to what to do, hooked on to the curve of his biceps, holding his arms close to me as he continued to cradle my head in his hands.
I’d dreamt of this moment. Since I was twelve and saw my first romcom, I’d dreamt of this moment. My heart had dared to dream that Prescott would be the actor to offer me my first kiss, but that dream had tarnished over the two years since he’d asked me to be his bride. A part of me had honestly feared I would turn eighty an old maid, my lips never explored, my body never worshipped. But here I was and… there were no words.
Prescott pushed me back and my legs hit the edge of the chair. We nearly fell over, but he caught us with a hand on the wall where it met the window. I threw my arms around his neck and he wrapped an arm around my waist, nearly picking me up off my feet. His kiss grew more passionate, his mouth, his tongue doing things I’d never allowed myself to imagine. How does one imagine this sort of thing, this sort of invasion, without having experienced it?
He picked me up, his hands on the backs of my thighs in a place that had never been touched by anyone but me and my doctor since I was a toddler. We turned a few times, his steps dictated by nothing more than a desire to stay upright. But then he ran into the bed and we tumbled, the soft comforter engulfing us. I might have giggled under other circumstances, but all I could do in that moment was reach for him, was wish he was back where he’d been.
“Skylar,” he whispered, his voice made rough by something… Was it me? Was it my kiss? The very idea made my head spin!
He kissed me again, his hand sliding from my hip up under the tee that barely covered my body, his fingertips snapping the elastic of my boy shorts. I ran my hand over the side of his face, loving the feel of his muscles moving along his jaw. The pulse in his neck. The rough beating of his heart under my fingertips. The pounding in the center of his chest. Had I done that, too?
Prescott pressed his forehead to my chest, my heart pounding as hard as his. I ran my hands over his head, urging him to come back to my lips, to kiss me again the way he’d just done. But he remained still, even his hands still on my hip.
“I should go,” he mu
mbled against my breast.
“Why?”
He grunted, his eyes on fire as he pulled back to look at me. “Because you are…” He grunted again. “I should go.”
“Please, don’t!”
He sat back, and I followed, moving into him, my legs somehow wrapping themselves around his waist. I combed my fingers through his hair, caressed his cheek. “Please, stay here.”
He wrapped his arms around me and kissed me again, a low groan slipping from his mouth to mine. His hands slipped under my shirt, his fingertips dancing along the length of my spine, dipping under the back of my shorts. Then he sighed, carefully tugging at my arms, pulling them away from his neck.
“You’re making this incredibly hard.”
“That’s the point, isn’t it?”
He smiled, but that fire didn’t leave his eyes. He pressed his forehead against mine for a long second, then lifted me and laid me against the pillows. “Goodnight, Skylar,” he said softly, kissing the tip of my nose before he pulled away, walking out of the room without looking back.
I sat up, seriously thinking about going to join him in his bed. But then I threw myself back against the pillows, this smile, bigger and brighter than it should have been, refusing to leave my lips. What a kiss! I’d never felt anything like that before!
I fell asleep on a wave of pleasure, refusing to allow myself to come off that beautiful cloud. I knew reality would set in eventually and I’d find myself analyzing what had just happened, but for the moment, I just wanted to embrace it, hold it close, and enjoy it.
Chapter 8
Prescott
Zander glared at me from across the table. Nolan sat beside him, happily eating his meal in silence, his cell phone leaning up against his water glass as he watched something, some nonsense show, no doubt. Or maybe he was reading through his social media. There was no way of knowing without looking and I didn’t care enough to look.
“Where’s Skylar?”
I took a bite of toast before answering just to irritate Zander. “Sleeping. She was a little restless last night, so I thought I’d let her sleep in.”
“Restless? If she shared my bed, she would never be restless.”
“That’s pretty likely. She’d probably sleep like a baby since there’d be little else to do.”
Zander’s eyes narrowed. “She would sleep like a baby because she’d be deeply satisfied.”
“Satisfaction is good, I suppose. But there are levels of pleasure that go far beyond satisfaction. Maybe you’ll experience something like it someday.”
Zander’s face was so red I was slightly concerned that he was forgetting to breathe, but then I saw him take in a deep breath and stopped caring about the color of his face. I rose, about to carry my dishes to the sideboard, when Hannah came into the room, a smile on her face as she took the plate from me.
“Allow me,” she said almost happily.
“Thank you, madam.” I offered a small bow. “I appreciate your efforts.”
“Why, thank you!” She smiled brightly, clearly pleased to receive some accolades in a houseful of men who obviously didn’t know how to use their charms for good.
Skylar came into the room, dressed in a pair of high-waisted pants and a silk blouse—the most tame outfit she’d worn since we arrived in Washington. Her dark hair was tied back in twin ponytails, flopping around her ears playfully, the dark eyeliner around her eyes drawing out the paleness of her blue eyes in a way that made me want to stare at them all day.
She went to the sideboard and began piling eggs and bacon onto a plate, tension rolling off her shoulders so clearly that it was almost a visible wave.
“Everything okay, darling?” I asked, moving up behind her, resting a hand on her hip.
She glanced back, a slight blush and a little smile wiping away that bit of tension for a second. But then she seemed to remember something and it all disappeared again.
“My great-gran’s lawyer called. She called me a week ago and I totally spaced on it. But now she wants to meet at her office and I have this strange feeling, like she has some news I’m not going to like.”
“What could she possibly have to tell you?”
She shrugged her narrow shoulders. “I have no idea. I don’t know what she did for great-gran.”
“Do you know?” I asked Hannah as she moved close to us to fuss around the hot dishes.
Hannah looked up, shot a look at Zander, then studied Skylar before meeting my eye. “Know what?”
“What Mrs. George’s lawyer might want from Skylar?”
Hannah shook her head, quickly wiping at the sideboard before moving away. “No, not at all.”
“I don’t think it’s that big of a deal,” Zander offered. “She probably just wants to go over some of the paperwork for the property with you. Aurora hasn’t been up to dealing with business details lately, so someone has to.”
“Maybe.”
Skylar shook her head. She clearly didn’t agree, but she didn’t voice an argument.
“Are you worried?” I asked, drawing her toward me.
Skylar shrugged. “I don’t know.” She sighed. “I’m going to see her this afternoon. I’m sure she’ll explain everything. It was just odd, the way she spoke to me on the phone. She got all cryptic when I told her we were in town, like she was afraid someone would overhear us speaking to each other. It was just… odd.”
“I’ll go with you, if you want.”
She nodded, offering a small smile. “I’d appreciate that.”
I wanted to kiss her, the memory of last night suddenly surging through me, raising my blood pressure just a bit, but she turned back to the food, piling more bacon on her plate before grabbing a single piece of toast. I followed her to the table, vaguely aware that Zander was no longer there, that Nolan was packing up his things and Hannah had disappeared. We were alone after a moment, this beautiful woman with a kiss like a slice of heaven, and me.
“I’m sorry if I did anything to upset you last night,” I said, turning my chair into hers. We were close enough that I could have kissed her shoulder if I’d wanted to, but after what had happened the night before, I was unusually shy about touching her. Instead, I just stumbled over my words. “I hope you know that I would never do anything to purposely hurt you.”
She broke a piece of bacon and played with it for a moment, crumbling the edges under her thumbnail. “I think there are some things we should talk about,” she finally said, glancing at me. “But maybe we should do that later.”
“You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” Skylar pushed her plate away. “Not the lawyer, really, but my great-gran. I called her doctor this morning and he said it’s been weeks since he saw her. He wasn’t aware that she had grown so frail.”
“Didn’t Nolan tell you she’d just been to the doctor?”
“A different doctor, apparently.” She shook her head. “I feel like someone’s telling me stories and I can’t figure out who or why.”
“Good morning, children!”
We both jumped a little. Aurora George, dressed in a lovely purple dressing gown and a matching turban-style hat, breezed into the room, crossing to the sideboard to pile a plate with bacon and eggs, just like her granddaughter had done. Skylar watched her, her eyes wide and her lips slightly parted.
“Great-Gran?”
“I’m ravenous,” she said, coming to sit at the head of the table. “Aren’t you, child?”
Skylar jumped out of her chair, nearly knocking it over, and threw her arms around the older woman. Aurora smiled, patting her granddaughter’s cheek with great affection. After a moment, she pushed Skylar back.
“Okay, go eat before we both wither away to nothing!”
“I thought… I’m so glad to see you up and about!”
“So am I.” Aurora smiled, her gaze slowly falling on me. She studied me for a long moment, picking at her bacon just as Skylar had done. “Who do we have here?” s
he finally asked.
“This is Prescott Armstrong,” Skylar announced, glancing over her shoulder at me, the pleasure on her face so beautiful I instantly wanted to be the reason it remained there.
“Prescott.” Aurora lowered her head slightly, acknowledging my name as she continued to stare me down. “You’re the man who married my lovely great-granddaughter.”
“I am.”
“Everyone’s talking about it. Zander seems to think you’re out for something other than love, Johnny thinks you’re a pleasant fellow, and Nolan thinks you’re super hot, whatever that means.”
Skylar giggled, shooting a glance in my direction. “He’s not wrong.”
“As long as you make her happy. That’s all her father would have wanted, and that’s all I want.”
“I’m doing my best, ma’am.”
“Please, don’t call me ma’am! It makes me feel old!” She turned her attention to Skylar. “Let’s call the girls, have them over for lunch. I feel like I’ve been locked away in a dungeon these last few weeks. I’m ready to have some fun!”
It was nothing short of a miracle. Aurora was bright and aware and clearly not as frail as she’d appeared as recently as last night. I could see the relief her sudden recovery presented for Skylar, and I had to admit that it offered me a little relief, too. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like for Skylar to have to bury her great-gran. I was glad to see that wasn’t as imminent a possibility as it had seemed upon our arrival.
Skylar couldn’t seem to take her eyes off the old woman. They planned an afternoon luncheon on the back patio, discussing everything down to the type of sandwiches they wanted to serve. I could have excused myself, but I stayed, enjoying the laughter I could hear in Skylar’s voice, the light I could see in her eyes. I hadn’t seen her this happy in a long time and I hadn’t even realized it until now. How could I not see such an obvious thing?
Caballo Security Box Set Page 53