“Well, he didn't.” It wasn't often she got the satisfaction of surprising both her husband and Eleanor. Castletons were notoriously difficult to startle. It took something on the order of an unknown illegitimate daughter's sudden appearance out of the blue to do that. “Jordan and I stopped by the Gilmarten place a while ago when we came back from our walk along the beach. I wanted to talk to her, so I thought I'd see if she was up. She wasn't. Nick was. He opened the door when I knocked.”
“I see,” Eleanor said blandly. “Darren, dear, would you please pass the cream? Thank you. Maybe Nick went for a walk this morning, too, and just decided to say good morning to Miss Fox.”
“He was barefoot and he wasn't wearing a shirt. All he had on were the jeans he was wearing yesterday at the party. I asked if Phila was awake, and he said she wasn't but that when she woke up he would tell her I'd stopped by to say hello. Take my word for it, he spent the night there.”
“It's hardly any of our business,” Eleanor proclaimed primly.
“You don't think so?” Victoria looked at her.
“No, I do not. Really, dear, this is hardly a subject for the breakfast table.”
“Don't fret, Eleanor. I think we're all adult enough to handle it,” Victoria said. Jordan was safely out of earshot, having eaten breakfast earlier in the kitchen.
Darren ate a wedge of grapefruit. “I don't know why you're acting like it's a big deal, Vicky. It was pretty obvious yesterday Nick had something going with her.”
“Maybe he's trying to seduce the shares out of her,” Victoria suggested, thinking about it. “Or, maybe she's just a little tramp like Crissie was.”
“Quite possible,” Eleanor agreed with a sigh of resignation. “Probable, in fact. They both come from the same sort of background, I understand.”
“You think she's a tramp?” Darren shook his head. “I doubt it. Not the type.”
Victoria was irritated. “For heaven's sake, Darren. You're a man. That doesn't make you a good judge of women.”
“No?” Darren regarded his wife with a level look.
Victoria flushed angrily and went back to work on her grapefruit. “Whatever the reason, Nick's sleeping with her and I'll bet Hilary is furious.”
“Why should Hilary be upset?” Eleanor inquired politely.
“Because she probably figured she could manage Nick if he ever returned to the fold. It would be just like her to assume she could manipulate him the way she does everyone else around here. She's never really understood Nick. She doesn't know him.”
“She was married to him for eighteen months,” Eleanor pointed out. “I'd say that gives her some insight into the man. We all know what she went through because of him.”
“Well, she was wrong about one thing. She thinks Nick left three years ago because he was weak. That was a stupid assumption. He left because he was sick of the whole mess. Who can blame him?”
“Vicky, I think you've said enough,” Darren began warningly.
“But,” Victoria continued, “the first night Nick's home, he goes off with another woman. Poor Hilary didn't even get a chance to sink her claws back into him.”
“I said that's enough, Vicky.” Darren did not raise his voice, but his tone was harsh.
Victoria slanted him a scornful glance. “I'm merely mentioning a few facts. Hilary is accustomed to having men make fools of themselves over her.”
“Now, dear,” Eleanor murmured, dabbing at her lips with a white linen napkin. “I really do think you've said enough.”
“Damn it, Vicky, close your mouth. You don't know what you're talking about.” Darren poured himself another cup of coffee from the silver pot.
Victoria smiled grimly. “You're wrong, Darren. I do know what I'm talking about. I'm not blind. Hilary's an expert. She knows how to make men jump through hoops.”
“How can you say that after what she went through?” Darren demanded.
“It's easy to say because it's the truth.”
“Would anyone like some more fruit?” Eleanor asked, picking up a heavily scrolled silver-plate tray that contained a selection of fresh strawberries and grapefruit.
Darren ignored his mother. “Let's close the subject.”
“I don't feel like closing it,” Victoria retorted. “Nick got free of her three years ago and from the look of him this morning, my guess is that he's in no danger of falling into Hilary's clutches a second time. But we all know the situation with Reed. During the past three years he's gradually turned over the entire Lightfoot half of the company to Hilary. He's given up. Now she's working on you, Darren.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Darren snapped.
“She wants to run the Castleton side of things as well. And she's going to do that by offering you what you want most.”
Darren pushed aside his grapefruit dish and folded his arms on the table. “What can she offer me that would make me give up running our half of the business?”
“Freedom. The freedom to devote all your time to your political career. And C&L money to wage your campaigns.” Victoria glanced from one startled face to to the other. “Don't you see? She's already starting to do it. This past year she's graciously taken over more and more of the daily decision making so that Darren can be free to set up the foundations of his gubernatorial campaign. Little by little, Hilary's assuming full responsibility, and you two don't even see what's happening.”
“Hilary is the current CEO. She's not taking over, she already has the day-to-day responsibility of running C&L,” Eleanor said soothingly. “I, for one, feel the firm is doing very well under her management. We can rely upon her.”
“You don't understand, Eleanor. She's acting as if she really owns the business, not as if she's just been elected by the rest of us to run it.”
“Hilary is family. She has the firm's best interests at heart, and that's all that really matters.” Eleanor paused. “Actually, now that you mention it, I've been giving the whole matter some serious consideration. It could be an excellent arrangement, you know.”
“What would be an excellent arrangement?” Victoria demanded. “Letting her handle C&L while Darren runs for office? Believe me, there would be a price to pay. One of these days we're all going to wake up and find out we're just puppets, totally dependent on her.”
“Damn it, Vicky, you're acting like a spoiled brat,” Darren said. “You know what's wrong with you? You're jealous. Hilary's worked hard to get involved with the business, and you're envious of her ability. That's what this is all about. She pulled herself together after Nick walked out and she lost the baby. She's made a career for herself, and you resent her for it.”
“Maybe you're right.” Victoria felt the angry, resentful tears welling up in her eyes. “After all, the only thing I've done during the past few years is bear your son and play the part of an up-and-coming politician's wife. Putting on dinners for a hundred potential backers and serving tea to fifty campaign workers is hardly a worthwhile career, is it?”
“Take it easy, Vicky. I didn't mean that the way it sounded,” Darren said lightly.
“How did you mean it?”
Eleanor picked up the silver bell on the table and tinkled it loudly. When the door to the kitchen opened, she turned to smile at the housekeeper. “Oh, there you are, Mrs. Atkins. I believe we need more coffee.”
“I'll bring it right out, Mrs. Castleton.”
“Thank you.” Eleanor looked from her son to her daughter-in-law as the housekeeper disappeared. For a moment the sweet, vague look disappeared from her eyes. “I really do feel it would be best for all of us if Hilary stays in charge of C&L. The most important consideration now is that Darren have the freedom and the financial backing to run for governor. We can only be assured of his having both if Hilary remains at the helm.”
The queen had spoken. Victoria knew she had been given her orders. As always, she would follow them. She folded her napkin and placed it beside her coffee cup. Then she got to her fee
t and rose from the table. She was aware of Darren watching her in angry silence as she left the room.
* * *
Phila shifted drowsily under the covers. Something was missing, something she had grown accustomed to having next to her during the night. Something warm and comforting and male.
She came awake slowly. Memories trickled back; memories of strong, gentle hands guiding her; memories of a masculine voice laced with husky amusement, wicked and urgent and exciting as it commanded and cajoled and pleaded; memories of coming very close to a thrilling promise of release, a promise that had slipped out of her fingers at the last moment but one that she was sure she could capture the next time around. She just needed another shot at it, that's all.
At least she now knew for certain that there was, indeed, something to go after the next time. Crissie had been right, after all.
Phila opened her eyes and saw Nick sitting, legs spread wide, on a reversed ladder-back chair. He had his arms folded across the back of the chair and he was leaning forward, watching her intently. He had on his jeans and a shirt, although he hadn't bothered to fasten the buttons of the shirt. She could see the heavy mat of his chest hair through the opening.
The expression on his face was the one she remembered from the occasion of their first meeting: hard, remote, unreadable. A faint trickle of dread lanced through her. Then she saw the gun.
It lay on top of the nightstand, gleaming dully in the early light. The ammunition clip lay beside it. Too late she recalled she had carelessly left the drawer open last night in her rush to answer the door. Nick must have seen the gun the minute he opened his eyes.
Phila sat up slowly, her eyes going from Nick's cold, set face to the gun and back again. As the blankets fell away she remembered she was nude. Automatically, she pulled the sheet up to her chin.
“Nick? What's wrong?”
“You tell me.”
“I don't understand.”
“The hell you don't.”
“You're wondering about the gun?” she hazarded.
“Yeah. Good guess. I'm wondering about the gun. You said you had some questions about what happened to Crissie Masters. You said you thought the Castletons and Ligthfoots might bear some ‘moral responsibility’ in the matter. But you forgot to mention you intended to play lady vigilante if you didn't like the answers you got.”
She stilled, shocked by his interpretation of events. “Nick, you've got it all wrong.”
“You really had me fooled, lady. I've got to hand it to you. What do you think you are? A hit woman? You put on a hell of an act. I went for it every step of the way, didn't I? Brought you right through the gate myself. Introduced you to all the Castletons and Lightfoots. Gave you free run of the place. And just to top it all off, I even let you seduce me.”
“You can't possibly think I've come here to kill someone.”
“What else am I supposed to think?” He nodded toward the gun. “That's an expensive 9-mm automatic pistol, not a squirt gun.” He studied her with chilling detachment. “What the hell do you think you're doing? And what made you think I'd let you get away with it?”
Phila edged backward, taking the sheet with her. The look in his eyes frightened her as nothing else had since the Spalding trial. “You don't know what you're talking about. Please. Give me a chance to explain.”
He reached out and snagged the sheet, tearing it from her grasp. “That's exactly what I'm going to do. You're going to explain the gun, your plans and what you think gives you the right to hunt my people.”
“Your people,” she repeated scathingly as she battled another jolt of fear. She felt horribly vulnerable. She was crouched naked in front of him, the wall at her back. She felt dizzy. Once before she had been in a position like this, and the old memories were starting to get tangled up with the present reality. “I suppose we're talking about your precious Lightfoots and Castletons?”
“Yeah, we're talking about Lightfoots and Castletons.”
“I told you last night that when the crunch came, you'd side with them.”
“Against a nut with an automatic? You'd better believe it.”
She could not tolerate this position any longer. Fear was gnawing at her stomach now. It was as though a mask had been thrown aside and she was finally seeing the real Nicodemus Lightfoot. This was not the man she had felt so gloriously free with last night, the man whose body she had learned to enjoy with such wholehearted abandon. This was a very dangerous stranger.
Phila began to inch carefully toward the foot of the bed. She was trapped and defenseless as long as she was caught between Nick and the wall. The first thing she had to do was put some distance between herself and this large, threatening male.
Nick tracked her with his eyes. Phila lost her nerve. She gave up inching and launched herself full tilt toward the end of the bed, wildly seeking escape.
“Oh, no you don't—” He shot out an arm that caught her around the midsection.
It was like running into an iron railing. Phila fell back, gasping for breath. She twisted to one side, pulling herself into a ball and kicking out frantically.
Her foot struck Nick's thigh. He grunted in pain but he did not stop. He moved so fast Phila never stood a chance. He came down on top of her, pinning her wrists above her head and using the weight of his body to still her thrashing legs.
“Let me go, damn you!” Phila's head snapped around as she tried to find some vulnerable spot into which she could sink her teeth. Panic swamped her. She could not tolerate being held down like this. Old terror and fresh fear rampaged through her. She fought like a wild thing.
“Phila. Stop it.”
Her hair lashed the pillow. He weighed a ton, she realized vaguely as she struggled to wriggle free. She had been on top of him last night. Last night she had been the one in control. She hadn't fully comprehended just how large and powerful Nick really was. Now she was crushed beneath him. She could hardly breathe. Her mouth opened on a scream.
“Stop it,” Nick ordered again as he clamped a hand over her lips. “Just calm down, will you? Jesus, you're going crazy.” He waited a moment and then slowly removed his hand from her mouth.
“Calm down? You're assaulting me! Let go of me and I'll calm down.”
“Not a chance. Not until I get some answers. What did you plan to do with that pistol?”
“I have a right to own a gun.”
“That depends. Don't tell me you really believe the Castletons and Lightfoots deserve a bullet just because they didn't welcome Crissie Masters with open arms?”
“I don't have to explain anything to you, damn it.” The defiance was dangerous, Phila knew that. But in her anger and fear and outrage, it was also instinctive. It was the way she had always responded to that which threatened to control her. In that, she and Crissie had been very much alike.
“Don't be stupid, Phila. Tell me why you had that gun stashed in the bedside drawer.”
Phila stopped struggling, exhausted. She inhaled deeply, trying to recover her strength. Frantically she tried to contain her fear so that she could keep talking. Words were all she had left at the moment. She knew how to use words.
“I don't owe you an explanation, but I'll give you one if you'll promise to get off of me,” she said stiffly.
“I'm listening. Talk fast.”
“Elijah Spalding.”
Nick stared down into her face. His eyes glittered behind the lenses of his glasses. “Who?”
“Elijah Spalding. Ruth Spalding's husband. Remember her? I told you I testified at a trial a few weeks ago, remember?”
“I remember. You said the guy went to prison.”
“The man was Spalding. And they sent him to one of those minimum-security places. When he gets out, he'll come after me.”
“Why?”
“Because he said he would,” Phila said fiercely. “He hates me. It was my testimony that sent him away. He'll never forget that. He's a dangerous man. He likes to hurt little kids and
women.”
Nick studied her for a moment longer, his eyes implacable as he searched her expression. “When did you buy the gun?”
“Right after the trial. Believe me, at the time I wasn't even thinking about Castletons and Lightfoots. Crissie was still alive.”
“That would be easy enough to check out.”
“Check it out. I don't give a damn.”
Nick contemplated her for a long moment, seemingly unaware of the way her bare breasts were crushed beneath his chest. “I think,” he said at last, “that you had better tell me a little more about this trial.”
Phila held her breath, sensing that he was about to release her. She gathered herself. “Please,” she whispered, hating herself for resorting to pleading.
“Please what?” Nick scowled.
“Please. Get. Off. Of. Me. I can't stand it.”
He levered himself slowly away from her, watching her warily. “Phila? Are you all right? What the hell are you looking at me like that for? I didn't hurt you.”
The instant she could move out from underneath him, Phila flung herself to the side of the bed and shot to her feet. She grabbed her brilliant purple robe, holding it in front of her like a shield as she backed as far away as she could get. She was brought up short by the closed door of the bathroom. She swallowed quickly a few times, trying to still her nervous stomach. Her fingers were white as they clutched the velour robe.
“Get out of here,” she ordered tightly.
Nick sat on the edge of the bed, watching her. “I'm not going anywhere,” he said quietly. “I think you're smart enough to realize that. Go take a shower, comb your hair, get dressed and calm down. I'll fix us some coffee and we'll talk.”
“I don't want to talk to you.”
“You don't have much choice.” He stood up.
Phila flinched, her eyes widening. She fumbled with the bathroom doorknob. “Don't touch me.”
“I'm not touching you. You're irrational.”
“I'm not the irrational one around here. You're the one who was waiting for me with a gun this morning.”
“I wasn't holding the gun on you.” He raked his fingers through his hair in exasperation. “I just wanted some answers. I had a right to a few after I found that automatic.” He took a step forward.
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