One Knight Only_SKelly

by Sahara Kelly

  "So riddle me this, clever man." She rinsed the bottles and stood them on the counter then came back to sit next to Tad. "Why would Drina want you to think she was married? Was the sex that bad?"

  "Jesus, Marielle." Tad felt himself blush. "Of course not. It was...um...just fine."

  "Just fine?" She encouraged him with a look.

  "Okay, it was mind blowing, all right?"

  "Aha." She leaned back and looked smug.

  "Aha?" Ian looked at her. "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "It means, my darling, that there is more going on here than meets the eye. That in my humble opinion, it might be possible Drina wanted to shoo our friend here out the door and out of her life. For reasons as yet unexplained, of course, and totally unrelated to Tad's magnificent sexual prowess."

  "Hey." Ian looked indignant.

  "Which is, if you'd give me chance to finish, second only to yours, dear." Marielle grinned at him, then turned back to Tad. "So here's my advice, honey. Do some research if you're serious about wanting to pursue a relationship with this woman. Which, to be honest, I think you are."

  Tad stared at her. "Research?"

  "Yes. It means finding out stuff." She tapped him on the forehead with her knuckles. "You ever hear of Google?"

  "Uhh..."

  "Start doing a little digging into your Drina's background. See if there is a husband out there, or if not—what else is. If he shows up and there's a marriage record, well...it was a hard lesson but at least you got laid."

  Tad choked. "Shit, woman. Don't hold back on my account."

  "She's right." Ian stood and slipped his arm around Marielle's waist. "Since I'm her man and I want to have sex with her later, I'm going to agree with everything she says."

  Marielle sighed and rolled her eyes, but Tad could see the amusement there and what he believed might well be the start of something a lot deeper than a simple affair.

  "You're a smart man, Ian. Always said so. After all, you made friends with me and we've stuck for God-knows-how-many years."

  "Obviously a sign of my innate brilliance."

  "Jesus, enough, you two." Marielle moved to the door and gave Tad a quick hug. "Do it, Tad. Research her. Dig around. Don't let this slide because you'll hate yourself for not finding out the truth."

  Ian nodded. "I think she's important to you, man." He dropped his bantering tone. "I don't like what I'm seeing in your eyes right now. I want it gone. If she's a genuine bitch I'll go kill her myself. If she's not—you need to figure out what you want to do about it."

  "Okay."

  "In the meantime, bring the Hatfield scrimshaw in for cataloging tomorrow and we'll get that going the auction rounds. Should work nicely for us, I'm thinking, if it lives up to its advance billing."

  "You got it." Tad paused. "Thanks guys. Really. I appreciate it."

  "You'll pay."

  His friend snickered as the door closed, but not before Tad caught the words "Bjork CD" coming out of Ian's mouth. Yeah, that little incident was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

  But now he had some thinking to do. And homework.

  Grabbing a couple of his favorite hard pretzels and another beer, he went into the small room he'd appropriated as an office and booted up his laptop.

  Research. It was indeed all about research. And what he would've done without the Internet, he had no frickin' clue.

  Come Wednesday night, he was wondering if the Internet was just being snarky or if he'd broken it. Each evening he spent some time digging, as Marielle and Ian had suggested. Digging into the life and times of one Audrina Ashford. And yes, he'd also checked for Audrina Franklyn as well.

  He'd gleaned the basics.

  She existed. Good to know and a great place to start. He rolled his eyes at himself as he glanced at the notepad next to his laptop. He was old-fashioned enough to like writing things down instead of just bookmarking pages. Somehow, the act of forming the words helped them sink into his mind more effectively.

  But that was neither here nor there when it came to researching someone else's life.

  Audrina had been born in Georgia and arrived in New England with her parents when she was two. There were brief mentions in various school postings, but not a lot, since back then not everyone had the need to share every single facet of their existence with the rest of the planet.

  He wasn't sure when schools started having websites, but what little information there was seemed to come from local newspaper archives rather than formal sites.

  Her parents' divorce had made a brief excursion into the Boston Globe, since her father had hurled vituperative insults at her mother across a courtroom and followed them with a drinking glass. Which had nearly hit an attorney.

  Apparently it had been a slow news day, since the Globe had a small paragraph reporting the incident. It was, according to his calculations, the summer before they'd met in Junior High.

  From then on, it was just the basic facts. Audrina-now-Ashford had graduated high school, moved on to college and majored in International finance. That made Tad blink, since he'd discovered her while she was imitating an elf and nurturing horses. He'd figured her for a vet perhaps, or at least something more artsy than a glorified accountant.

  The most recent information was a short description of the new financial services office that had opened just outside Carver. Ashford Consulting offered advice to regular folk wishing to build wealth or manage the wealth they had. He followed links and arrived at their cyber home. Nowadays, nobody was anybody without a site.

  The small webpage was tidily informative without being city-slick, but Tad got the general idea. Hometown business for hometown folks. No Wall Street ambitions here; Drina had found herself a nice quiet place and set up shop. He verified the address as being the same one on the card she'd put in with the scrimshaw.

  From then on, his searches had been futile.

  It was at that point that Tad was tempted to slap his laptop around a bit and make it disgorge what he wanted to know...was she married?

  He'd found nothing to say she was—but the reverse was also true. Just because there weren't twelve pages titled "Our Wedding", featuring endless photos of the bride with everyone from her mother to the parking valet, didn't mean the event hadn't taken place.

  He pushed back from his desk, depressed and wondering how long it was going to take him to put this behind him. Without any definitive information, he couldn't—wouldn't—go see her again. She'd told him she was married and made him feel like shit. He needed to let it go and move on.

  But damned if that wasn't the hardest thing he'd ever tried to do.

  Angrily he cleared away the remains of the pizza he'd grabbed for dinner on the way home and cursed as his finger slid over the cutter and a sharp pain told him that he'd just put the rotten cherry on top of a shitty evening.

  He'd cut himself.

  Going to the sink and grabbing some kitchen roll, he stuck his finger under the faucet and ran cold water over it. It wasn't deep, or big, but it was jagged, more of a slash than a cut.

  He stilled.

  Dammit, where the fuck were his brains? Slash McGill.

  He'd dated her briefly in college, gone to bed with her once, and then become good friends with her for their Junior Year. She was set on a career in law enforcement, and majoring in Criminal Justice, so their paths had diverged after those semesters. But every now and again, when he was in Washington for whatever reason, they'd get together for dinner and a few laughs.

  She was truly no more than a friend, but she was a good one who'd stuck, and Tad kicked himself for not thinking of her before this.

  He picked up his cell and pulled up his list of contacts, wondering if her number was current. She'd gone from considering local law enforcement programs to being accepted by the FBI. After two years, she'd quit, claiming that she wasn't getting chance to fulfill her potential. Tad wondered if her personality might have had something to do with it, since she hersel
f was the first to admit she liked to be in control. Tact and diplomacy weren't part of her makeup.

  Whatever the reason, she'd moved from the Department of Justice to the private sector and become a personal investigator. Yeah, Slash was now a private eye. And God, did she hand him his head when he called her that. He grinned at the memory of the forty or so different insulting epithets she'd thrown at his head over drinks.

  He'd hugged her, told her not to shoot anyone anyplace serious and asked for salacious divorce photos if she had any handy.

  If anyone could find out what he wanted to know about Drina, it was Susannah McGill, AKA Slash. Owner and proprietor of McGill Inquiries, Alexandria, Virginia.

  He smiled to himself as he fumbled a Band-Aid over the cut. Now he had a solid resource. Whatever Slash charged, he'd pay. It would be worth it to find out the truth.

  And then move on from there.

  Chapter Seven

  Drina walked the fairgrounds with the ease of familiarity and the abstraction of someone lost in her own thoughts. She automatically stopped and smiled at guests, agreed to a photo or two and spent some moments entrancing children who wanted to touch the tiny cellophane wings she'd added to her costume.

  But it wasn't the same. She knew it and everyone behind the scenes at the tournament field knew it.

  By mutual consent they left her alone, always letting her know they were there if she needed them. It was the way this team operated—you needed help, you got it. You didn't, you got peace and quiet.

  Drina wasn't sure which one she wanted, if she was honest with herself. Half of her wanted to go away, sit quietly in the middle of a deserted cranberry bog and just think through everything.

  The other half would have liked nothing better than to put her head against some broad and reassuring chain-mail-covered shoulder and cry like a baby for several hours, while being cuddled.

  Although two weeks had passed, so at this point neither of those activities would have helped much. She'd thought and thought and turned her brain inside out, then spent the rest of her nights in tears, weeping for herself.

  For what she'd lost and what she'd found.

  She'd lost a chance for passion, to build on a unique sexual experience and discover whether there was a chance for any kind of future. Any kind of deepening connection between two people who had been so physically compatible they damn near lit the cranberry bogs afire.

  And she'd learned that she'd been carrying burdens around that weren't hers. Self-analysis wasn't really part of her makeup, but this episode, this night with Tad...it had opened her heart and her mind and forced her to do some internal reviews. She'd taken a long hard look at her life, at those events, which had shaped some of her thinking processes.

  Her view of relationships was—some might say—unhealthy. It didn't take hours of psychological counseling for her to realize that her parents' ugly divorce had colored her attitudes, and not in bright rainbow shades. Old enough now to step back from the emotional components, she took a long look at that marriage and saw two personalities that were probably doomed to disaster long before she came along. Her mother was a traditionalist, her father a free spirit. Neither could understand the other and eventually neither wanted to.

  Her grandmother's passing had exacerbated the situation in Drina's young mind and the grown woman could see the muddle of painful tendrils much more clearly. Tad had been a part of it all by virtue of his being there and being a jerk at the same time.

  Things like these shaped so much, stayed with people throughout their lives. And occasionally sent them to drink, drugs and making stupid decisions.

  Thankfully, it was only the last that plagued Drina. She'd made a really stupid decision and she'd hurt Tad, who had been nothing but charming, hot, sexy and considerate to her. She still shuddered as she remembered his eyes changing that morning in her kitchen. As soon as she'd mentioned a husband so casually, Tad's expression had gone from relaxed to blank. He'd closed down to her every bit as firmly as if he'd dropped the portcullis and raised a drawbridge.

  It had been just flat out awful and the minute she'd spoken, she regretted what she'd said. But words cannot be taken back, as she well knew. Calling him and saying "woops, sorry about the husband thing, that was just my insecurities"—didn't work for her and probably wouldn't work for him either. At the very least he'd hang up on her. At worst he'd send two men in nice white coats and get her admitted into some sort of mental health research program at MacLean Hospital.

  Of course, if she tore herself apart much more, the hospital option might not be a bad idea, provided it came with some mind-numbing medications.

  She blinked and managed to avoid tripping over a root beneath the mulch. She was heading for the last joust of the day, which would happen in less than an hour, and she had a route she followed that would deliver her to the tournament field promptly on time to salute the knights.

  She touched her arm, making sure her ribbon was still tied there, and as she walked slowly down the path her heart caught in her throat.

  There. Over there...

  A tall man with sandy hair. Could it be? Was it...him?

  She sighed as he disappeared from view. Of course it wasn't. She was seeing things, imagining things, wanting...Tad. But wishing wouldn't make him appear, and she mentally slapped herself upside the head.

  He was gone. He'd come into her life, her bed and her heart. She'd thrown him out of all three. She had to stop this obsessing and move on with her life.

  She simply had to.

  With that thought in mind, she lifted her chin, noted that the sun had finally come out from behind the morning clouds, and determined to enjoy what was left of the afternoon. The fair itself was in full swing, and would be for a few more weekends yet. Days like this, when the warm sun touched trees already turning to reds and golds, well it was a magnificent sight. One that tourists traveled miles to see, photograph and then talk about for several months.

  The cranberries were ripening and already some bogs were being flooded in preparation for the harvest.

  Nature's cycle continued unabated, probably more evident here in the Northeast than other places. Drina loved it...loved the autumn colors and the morning which would soon feature a crisp frosty bite and remind folks that winter wasn't far behind. It was a nudge to enjoy what was left of the year and she always made a promise to herself that she would follow Mother Nature's urgings.

  Today, she simply promised to try and enjoy the day. Going for more than twenty-four hours was pushing it, but she'd get there eventually.

  When the trumpets blared a little while later, Drina was ready, walking over to the royal box enclosure and taking her position at the railing with the other "maidens".

  The usual circus ensued as the visitors to the fair gathered to see the joust and murmured at the pennants snapping in the breeze. A smattering of applause greeted the arrival of the royals themselves, and the cheers grew as the combatants took the field, galloping in with much fanfare and being introduced by the Tournament Master.

  Everything was much the same as always.

  Except...

  There was one extra rider on the field. And he looked damn familiar.

  Drina blinked and held up her hand to get the sun out of her eyes. The horse was coming toward her, closer and closer. This knight had no lance and no helmet. But he did have a head of sandy blond hair.

  Shit.

  Holy fucking shit.

  Drina's hand started to shake and her heart pounded louder than the horse's hooves as Tad rode boldly to the fence and pulled up the beast in a showy rearing flurry. The crowd loved it.

  "One brave squire craves your attention, O Magic Sprite." The words of the Tournament Master blared over the loudspeakers. "Grant him your favors if you would? He begs your indulgence."

  A sharp elbow in the side from the maiden next to her roused her from her stupor. "Drina. Give him your ribbon. Wake up girl."

  Still stupefied, Drina auto
matically untied the ribbon from her sleeve and held it up toward Tad.

  He grinned, and all she could see was the sunlight dancing off his eyes, blinding her with their expression of—what? Could that be pleasure? But how...

  She shrieked as her hand was clasped, the ribbon ignored and she found herself tugged off her feet. She grabbed for something—anything—and found Tad's other hand coming over his horse to catch her.

  He lifted her with ease and she found herself sitting across his horse before she could catch her breath. His arms encircled her as he retrieved the reins. "Gotcha."

  "Tad..."

  "Shut up. Just shut up. Let's finish the show first."

  She stared at him, completely at sea.

  His expression changed and as the horse moved slowly away from the railing, Tad scooped Drina into his embrace, planting a hot and wicked kiss on her lips. Puffs of smoke were probably erupting from her ears.

  His arm held her close, his mouth devoured hers and she vaguely registered something like a loud buzzing ringing around her head. She ignored it and threw her hands around his neck, partly to hold on and partly to keep him right where he was.

  His taste overwhelmed her and even as tears gathered behind her closed eyelids, his tongue dueled with hers and teased her into the first stirrings of desire.

  He eased away from her and she suddenly realized that the buzzing was actually the crowd hooting, cheering, whistling and generally signaling their approval.

  "The knight has claimed his fairy queen." The Tournament Master intoned the words dramatically. "And so the magic of the Royal Court has blessed another couple. May all who visit here today find similar joy. And now..." he paused, "to the Joust".

  The tone of the crowd ramped up to wild hysteria as the two fully armed knights galloped full tilt to the railings and made a few women scream with mock terror.

  As the show went on, Tad steered the horse toward the gap in the fence and soon had Drina well clear of the public and the Tournament Field. But instead of riding to the stables, he headed over the empty pasture and toward a small patch of trees some distance away.