Strings of the Heart

by Katie Ashley

  Just as I threw open the door, Cassie called over her shoulder in a not discreet voice, “Would you stop already? Seriously, those are the sexiest ‘come-fuck-me-heels’ I’ve ever seen you wear. They sure as hell give me a lady boner, so I can’t imagine Rhys not springing some wood at the sight of them.”

  Mortification rocketed through my body as Rhys stood before me, hearing every. Single. Word. Of course, the first thing he did was eye my shoes, which were on display a little more than usual since I’d been holding up the hem of my dress to run to the door. Once he’d had his fill, he glanced back up at me. A sexy smirk curved on his lips. “Nice heels.”

  “T-Thank you.” Not only did my heartbeat accelerate at his smirk, but moisture dampened my panties.

  “I’d say I agreed with Cassie on the ‘come fuck me’ status, but that would probably be inappropriate.”

  No, it wouldn’t. In fact we should ditch the party so you could ‘come fuck me’ right now. Tuning the inappropriate thoughts from my mind, I said, “Uh, yeah, I guess so.”

  I’d been so distracted by the shoes comment that it took me a moment to process what Rhys had on. Blinking several times, I fought the urge to brace a hand on the doorjamb, so I wouldn’t slide into a puddle of lust on the floor. “You’re wearing a kilt?” I questioned lamely.

  His cocky smirk faded and was replaced by a sheepish look as he glanced down at himself. “I guess I forgot to mention that my parents’ party recognizes Tartan Day.” At what I imagined was still my deer-in –the-headlights expression, he continued on. “It’s when people with Scottish heritage celebrate the Declaration of Arbroath.”

  “I didn’t realize you had such strong Scottish roots. I mean, I kinda gathered your family origin from your last name.”

  “Yeah, my great-great grandfather was a lord with a pretty expansive estate.”

  My brows shot up at his declaration. “Does that mean I should start addressing you as ‘my lord’?”

  He laughed. “Not quite. My great-grandfather was the fifth son, so he didn’t get to inherit the title.”

  “I see.”

  Cassie came to join me at my side. She gave a low whistle at the sight of Rhys. “Look at you, stylin’ and profilin’ in a skirt. Didn’t take you for a cross-dresser.”

  With a good-natured chuckle, Rhys replied, “It’s a kilt, not a skirt.”

  Cassie motioned to his crotch. “You free ballin’ under there?”

  Although my mind had certainly gone there, I still let out a horrified gasp at Cassie’s question. Rhys wagged a finger at Cassie. “A gentleman never tells.”

  “Whatever,” Cassie replied.

  Wanting to escape before the conversation got any crazier, I said, “We should go. We don’t want to be late.”

  Rhys nodded and then opened the door for me. After saying goodbye to Cassie and the others, we headed out onto the porch and then down the stairs. As he held open the car door for me, Rhys gave me a genuine smile. “I meant to tell you earlier, but I was a distracted. You look very beautiful tonight, Allison.”

  The sincerity with which he said the words, coupled with the way he was looking at me, caused my cheeks to warm while a delighted shiver ran down my spine. “Thank you.”

  After I sank down on the leather seat, Rhys leaned in rather than closing the door. “And I’m really glad you’re wearing a long dress to cover those heels. They’re awfully distracting.”

  My stomach flip-flopped at his words. It didn’t help matters that he gave me a teasing wink as he shut the door. While he went around the front of the car, I tried smoothing down my dress—anything to try to get a hold of my raging hormones.

  When he got into the car, I couldn’t help cutting my eyes over to see how he maneuvered himself in the kilt. He must’ve had practice because he managed, unfortunately, not to flash more than the tops of his knees. We drove along the streets with the radio playing softly in the background. I was anxious to see where Rhys lived. I imagined it was somewhere in the Historic District—some pre-Civil War home that had been in his family for generations.

  As we neared Forsyth Park, Rhys turned off on a street I’m not familiar with. It doesn’t take me long to spot his house, or I should say, mansion. It’s the one where expensive cars are lining up to the valet stand. It’s pretty much everything I envisioned in my mind. Instead of waiting for the valet, Rhys pulled into the driveway that wound around to the back of the house.

  After turning off the car, he glanced over at me. “Pretentious, isn’t it?”

  “It’s magnificent. I love antebellum homes.”

  “Well, it’s from the 1830s.”

  “I can’t wait to see inside.”

  “Then let’s go.” Rhys then climbed out of the car and came around for me. Once he opened the door, I slid out, careful not to stumble on my heels.

  When we continued up the pathway to the back of the house, I couldn’t help asking, “We aren’t going in the front?”

  Rhys rolled his eyes. “And have to pass through the doorman and all that bullshit? I don’t want any part of that.”

  “Oh,” I murmured.

  “What do you mean ‘oh’?” he questioned, as he walked ahead of me.

  “I just thought you might be embarrassed of me,” I murmured.

  Skidding to a stop on the brick walkway, Rhys stared at me with an incredulous expression. “You are not serious?”

  I shrugged. “It’s not like I fit into this world.”

  “Neither do I,” he countered.

  “But you were born into it. You’re a blue blood for God’s sake. Besides, your mother made it very clear a few weeks ago that I wasn’t the type of girl that you should be interested in.” Realizing I had said too much, I quickly tried backtracking. “I mean, the type of girl you should be hanging out with,” I hurriedly added.

  “I don’t give two fucks what kind of girl my parents think I should be hanging out with. I like being with you. I can’t remember a time when I’ve had more fun or been more at peace than I have with you. You’re the only thing that has made this visit tolerable. All those reasons? They’re what matters, not my parents.”

  Between his words and the intensity of his stare, I had to focus on breathing. In and out, in and out, I recited in my head as my chest rose and fell in harsh pants. Finally, when I felt like I wasn’t going to pass out, I murmured very ineloquently, “Okay then.”

  He smiled. “Good. I’m glad we have that settled.” He held out his arm for me to take just like a gentleman of years past would. “Now come on. It’s time we jumped into the shark tank.”

  I slipped my arm through his and let him lead me up the walkway. When we got to the backdoor, Rhys didn’t even bother knocking. Instead, he barreled right on inside. A flurry of activity was going on in the massive kitchen with its marble tiled floor and granite countertops. The caterers and wait-staff buzzed around like busy worker bees. I’m sure Rhys’s mother would have considered them more as drones. They didn’t acknowledge our presence. Only one elderly, African-American woman’s face lit up at the sight of Rhys.

  “Why hello there, stranger!” she cried.

  Rhys’s face broke into a smile for the first time since we’d pulled into the driveway. “Ozella, my most favorite cook in the whole wide world.”

  She wagged a finger at him. “I’m the only cook you’ve ever had.”

  He laughed. “You’re still the best.”

  His compliment sent a beaming smile across her face. “Well, since you’re a world traveler and famous musician, I’ll take your word for it.”

  After they exchanged a hug, Rhys turned back to me. “Allison, this is Mrs. Ozella Princeton. She was our family’s personal cook from before I was born up until a few years ago.”

  She smiled. “If I hadn’t had to retire for health reasons, I’d still be here. But I always come supervise Mrs. McGowan’s major parties.”

  I held out my hand. “It’s nice meeting you.”

  “Lik
ewise.” Once she released my hand, she smacked Rhys playfully on the shoulder. “Now why didn’t you call and tell me you had settled down?”

  Both Rhys and my eyes bulged at her mistake. “No, no, we’re not together like that,” Rhys quickly corrected.

  Ozella’s brows creased in confusion. “Then how are you together?”

  “He’s my brother’s best friend,” I replied, at the same time Rhys said, “She’s my bandmate’s little sister.”

  “Uh-huh,” Ozella replied, a knowing look flickering in her eyes. I couldn’t help wondering why she had jumped to such a conclusion. Had Rhys never brought girls around before? Or was it more in the way we interacted with each other?

  Her comment left us all in an awkward silence with me gnawing my lip, and Rhys fidgeting with the lapels and then the cuffs on his tux top.

  “Zell, we need you,” someone called from across the room.

  “Be right there,” Ozella called. Leaning in, she gave Rhys another hug. “Sorry, honey. I’ve got work to do.”

  “It was so good seeing you,” Rhys said, as he squeezed her tight.

  “You too. Don’t be a stranger when you’re in town. Come to see me anytime.”

  Rhys nodded. “I will.”

  Ozella winked at me. “You’re welcome, too, Allison.”

  “Thank you,” I murmured, not daring to look at Rhys’s expression.

  After Ozella had hurried off, Rhys turned to me. “Come,” he said, holding out his hand to me. “Let’s go find my parents so I can properly introduce you.”

  Although I nodded in agreement, I fought the urge to stay in the kitchen or anywhere that was far, far away from his parents. It had been bad enough spending any time with his mother. I couldn’t imagine his father would be any better.

  Tucked close to his side, I followed him out of the kitchen and into a long hallway. It reminded me a lot of the entrance hallway at the Mercer Williams House. My heels clacked along the marble floor beneath my feet while two glittering, crystal chandeliers lit our way. From ahead of us, I could hear the sound of a string quartet playing. A classical repertoire floated through the air, and for a moment, the relaxing music calmed me.

  Pointing up the hallway, Rhys said, “The first room on the right is the ballroom. That’s where the music is coming from and where most of the party guests are. The doors open to a veranda.”

  I widened my eyes. “You have a ballroom?”

  He shrugged as if it was the most normal thing in the world to have a ballroom. “We also have a study, library, and a billiard room, just like in Clue.”

  A nervous giggle escaped my lips. “You do?”

  “It was fun growing up with such a big house to explore, but now it seems a bit pretentious.”

  Inwardly, I agreed with him. I’d never been comfortable with over-the-top expressions of wealth. While my parents made good money, we lived rather modestly compared to a lot of their friends. I was thankful that when Runaway Train took off, Jake stayed very true to his roots, which meant staying at the farm he grew up on. “I never knew you were this rich.”

  Rhys shook his head. “Just remember, this is my parents’ world—it isn’t mine. It never has been, nor will it ever be.”

  “I’ll try,” I murmured, as Rhys swept me into a room to the left. This must have been the formal living room. It was heavy on the formal part with chandeliers, Persian rugs, and ornate furniture. It certainly wasn’t the type of living room where you kicked off your shoes and watched TV.

  “Rhys darling, there you are,” Margaret called from the corner of the room. She, and who I assumed was Rhys’s father, was talking with another couple. As we approached, the couple excused themselves, and then it was just the four of us.

  “Mother, I believe you have had the pleasure, but Father, please allow me to introduce to you, Allison Slater.”

  Rhys’s father’s dark eyes narrowed slightly at me as he took a puff of a foul-smelling cigar. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Miss Slater. I’m Elliot McGowan,” he said, extending a hand. Just like Rhys, he was outfitted in a blue and green checked kilt.

  As I shook his hand, I quickly replied, “It’s a pleasure meeting you too, sir.”

  “I understand you’re here in Savannah for school.”

  “Yes, sir. I attend the Savannah College of Art and Design.”

  “And what exactly do you plan to do with your degree?”

  “Fashion design.”

  At his father’s obvious lack of enthusiasm for my major, Rhys cleared his throat. “Allison’s just been accepted for a very prestigious internship.”

  I smiled. “Rhys flatters me, but I will be fulfilling my internship while out on tour with his band.”

  Margaret made a strangled noise beside me. When I turned to her, she asked, “So you and Rhys will be spending a lot of time together?”

  With a nod, I replied, “Yes, just for the summer. I’ll pick up classes again in the fall.”

  “I see,” she said, not bothering to hide her disdain.

  Craning his neck around the room, Rhys asked, “Where’s Ellie?”

  Margaret immediately stiffened before exchanging a glance with Elliot. “Tonight just isn’t the place for Eleanor,” Elliot replied.

  Rhys’s pleasant expression instantly darkened. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  A nervous titter escaped Margaret’s lips as she gave a flippant wave of her hand. “You know your sister’s limitations. A crowded party full of strange people isn’t the place for her.”

  “What you mean to say is, it’s the perfect place for you to be embarrassed by your own daughter?”

  “Rhys, you may be a grown adult, but I will not have you speak to your mother with that tone,” Elliot warned.

  Shaking his head, Rhys questioned bitterly, “I don’t know why I’m even surprised. Is she even here, or did you keep her as far away as possible by having her stay at the Brandewine Institute?”

  “She is here, just like she is every weekend. She just will not be attending the party.”

  “You two really disgust me sometimes,” Rhys bellowed, before he turned and strode determinedly out of the room.

  I exchanged a horrified glance with Rhys’s parents. “Excuse me,” I said, before hightailing after him. When I got back into the foyer, I glanced left and right to see where Rhys had gone. I heard a door slam in the back, so I raced as best I could in my heels and dress to catch up with him.

  As I got outside, I saw him stalking across the garden area. “Rhys, wait!” I called.

  He froze. He still hadn’t turned around by the time I got to him. Instead, his broad shoulders were drawn, his head tucked into his chest. Tentatively, I reached my hand out to touch his arm. Words seemed to escape me. There was obviously a sordid history about Rhys’s younger sister that I wasn’t privy to—one that hurt him very deeply. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

  Rhys turned his head to look at me. “There’s nothing you need to apologize for. It’s my fucking parents and their bullshit way of thinking.”

  My hand rubbed up and down his arm. “I’m still sorry they upset you. It’s obvious that you love your sister, and that you don’t want to see her mistreated.”

  “I do love her.” Rhys’s shoulders slumped farther. “Sometimes I think I’m the only one who does.”

  “Then let’s go see her. I’m sure she wants to spend time with you.”

  With a slight nod of his head, Rhys started toward the front door of the carriage house. His hand hovered over the ornate door knocker before he pulled it back. “Allison, before you meet her, I guess I need to explain about Ellie.”

  “Okay,” I replied cautiously. At that moment, I didn’t know what to expect behind that door. Between what Elliot and Margaret had said, coupled with Rhys acting so mysteriously, I didn’t know if Ellie was just your typical rebellious daughter that her uptight parents were ashamed of or if there was something else—something much more serious.

 
“Ellie is different.”

  “Different how?” I pressed.

  He grimaced. “I hate even saying that about her. The truth is she’s severely autistic. She isn’t anything like Lucy.” He shook his head. “It’s a horrible thing to do, but I guess to prepare you in the best way, she’s an autistic savant, like Rain Man, except she’s nonverbal.”

  My heart ached for the pain I could feel coming from Rhys. “Why don’t your parents want her coming to the party?” I questioned softly.

  Rhys ran a hand over his face that wore an agonized expression. “Although my mother may head up charity campaigns for autism research, she prefers to keep Ellie out of sight. Most of the time, Ellie does fine in crowds—loud noise or music doesn’t bother her like some autistic people. She even seems to thrive on being with people, or at least she has at her group home. But my mother would never risk having Ellie at one of her parties. To her, Ellie will always be an embarrassment—like a crack in a beautiful piece of Waterford crystal. You would think after twenty-three years, she would have accepted the imperfection, but she hasn’t. During the week, Ellie lives at the Brandewine Institute, which is a group home for adults with disabilities. Basically, it’s a place where a lot of wealthy society families from Georgia and South Carolina, stick their mentally challenged adult children.”

  “That’s so sad.”

  “I wouldn’t stand for it if Ellie wasn’t happy there. She fits in well, and she spends hours painting.” He stared pointedly at me. “That’s where she painted your necklace. She really enjoys painting intricate details like that on small objects.”

  “She truly has a gift.”

  Rhys gave me a sad smile. “She’s good at so many things, but unfortunately, my parents refuse to see it. They only focus on what she can’t do, rather than what she can. She never got to be a debutante and have a coming out party, and she’ll never be in the papers for a society wedding.”

  Reaching out, I once again touched his arm. “I still want to meet her.”

  “Okay,” Rhys replied, with an edge of caution in his voice.

  A few seconds after Rhys tapped on the brass knocker, the door flew open. A silver-haired woman with a warm, friendly smile appeared before us. “Rhys McGowan, aren’t you looking dapper this evening?” she exclaimed.