He swore beneath his breath, opened her door and without another word pushed her roughly into her bedroom then slammed the door behind her. She collapsed against the wood, her legs unable to hold her weight.
What the hell was that? She’d never had such a response to a male ever.
For years, her friend Jesse Copeland had crushed on her. He was a couple years younger than her but they had been friends a long time and she had never felt anything but friendship and brotherly love to him. He had slowly come to the realisation that they would never be a couple and stopped pursuing her much to her relief. It had been extremely embarrassing on her part, being unable to muster up even the slightest bit of desire. Jesse was a good looking guy—just not her type. Not that she had a type or at least she hadn’t thought she had. Not until a blond hair blue-eyed devil came into her life and made it hell.
She wasn’t stupid. She knew what went on between the sexes and how enjoyable it could be, despite never experiencing it for herself. She was beginning to understand what romance books were talking about.
Bethany already felt out of her depth without adding sexual defect to the mix.
Perhaps she should’ve experimented though the candidates were few and far between. Except for Jesse.
Why Declan? She didn’t even like him. He was pretty enough to look at but he’d made it clear he had an issue with her.
She wanted him to like her. Or at least be civil. He continued to keep her off balance. She should’ve been nicer, more accepting of her fate as she’d been in the past.
Maybe then they wouldn’t be at this standstill.
Pushing away from the door, she headed into her adjoining bathroom for her shower. Hopefully, it’ll help cool her down.
Chapter 8
He couldn’t figure Bethany out. Quick to fire up. Easy to acquiesce. He had to agree, having a bodyguard would seriously annoy the fuck out of him. Thankfully, he’d been born of a cop and not a millionaire. He’d never had to worry about being a target. He was the hunter. Not the prey.
The signals she’d been sending would’ve been clear to a blind man. It had taken everything inside him not to engage. Now he was sporting the mother of erections.
He wanted to dislike her. In a way, he did. But not the way which mattered. He wanted her to be the spoiled brat he’d conjured in his head and she could be for sure but she could also be reasonable.
Annoying. Fierce. Vulnerable. Sad. Beautiful.
He associated them all with her.
Worse, she made him feel. For her. Not just as a body, but a person.
He joined Davies in the kitchen in time to see the man toss a metallic card in the bin.
The surprise on the man’s face when he’d been caught out piqued his curiosity.
“What was that?”
Davies cleared his throat. “An invitation for Miss Bennett.”
He retrieved the card. “The leukaemia foundation. She doesn’t want to attend?”
“Miss Bennett never attends yet every year they invite her.” Davies took the card from him. “Perhaps you could escort her.”
“If she doesn’t want to go…”
“She’s never had the choice before. Mr. Bennett has never permitted her. But Mr. Bennett is not here.”
Declan frowned. “I thought you said she never leaves the property.”
“I also said it was Mr. Bennett’s rule. That was also before she had a personal bodyguard. While I don’t always agree with him, Mr. Bennett only wants to keep his daughter safe. And with you here, she’ll be safe.”
“I’m not…”
Bethany abruptly halted as he broke off and both he and Davies stared at her. Her hesitant gaze flicked between them.
“What?”
All earlier signs of her arousal had gone and his mind briefly imagined her attending to the matter herself. His groin tightened in warning.
“Mr. O’Neill and I were discussing the leukaemia foundation luncheon and the possibility of him escorting you there.”
Her eyes lit up then immediately dulled. “My father wouldn’t approve.”
“Your father isn’t here to know one way or the other.”
An elegant blonde eyebrow rose. “Are you suggesting I disobey my father, Quinn?”
Bethany brushed past him and selected a grape from the serving tray Davies had been preparing before they’d become side-tracked by the invitation.
“I just want you to live your life and not waste away behind those gates. It’s no way to live.”
Bethany blinked, her eyes glistening. “Thank you, Quinn. I appreciate your concern.” She turned to him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to.”
She played with the arrangement of flowers as she chewed the grape, altering the already perfect bouquet.
Davies’ brow furrowed, his eyebrows slashing down until they almost became one.
“You should go. You’ve been a part of the committee for years. You have a bodyguard now. Use him.”
Thanks, Davies.
Her gaze ran over him. “He’s a person. Not a chess piece. I’m sure it’ll be a logistical nightmare. I’ll just stay here. It’ll be easier.”
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes and her shoulders dropped ever so slightly.
She wanted to go.
“I can arrange it.”
The words were out of his mouth before he’d thought them through.
She spun around, almost knocking over the vase. Hope sparkled in her blue eyes. “Are you sure? I don’t want to put anyone out.”
She could’ve demanded. Technically he was an employee and yet she hadn’t. Which only made him want to give her this more.
He found he wanted to make her happy. To bring a genuine smile to her face. He wanted to give her everything. Which not only was crazy but dangerous too.
Where had his earlier disdain gone?
Bethany leapt at him, knocking him backwards and he had to shift his legs to compensate for her weight as she hugged him. Her breasts flattened against his chest.
She pulled back enough to plant her lips on his cheek. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. But it’s no big deal.”
“It is to me. What does one wear to a charity lunch?” Snatching up a slice of watermelon, she skipped from the room. He moved to follow until her footsteps ascended the staircase. No doubt going to her room to select something from her wardrobe.
“I’ve never seen her so happy. Looks like you’re falling for her charm.”
“It’s a favour. Pure and simple.”
“Tell yourself that, Mr. O’Neill. But it doesn’t change the reason.”
Chapter 9
Declan searched for Bethany, annoyed she hadn’t heeded his warning or obeyed his rules. She’d simply disappeared and though he knew she was in perfect health, he couldn’t stop the gnawing anxiety knotting his belly.
In his mind, a bodyguard meant he had to guard the body. Then there was Dirk Bennett’s fear that even on his own property, Bethany could be hurt.
As he moved to the farthest reaches of the estate, he heard an old man’s gravelly voice, easily recognising it from the previous day.
“You’re planting the seeds too close together.”
Bethany replied. “No. I’m planting them exactly as far apart as required.”
“Looks too close to me.”
“Then you need glasses, old man. Shall I get a ruler?”
The other man grunted. “I’ll tell you what you can do with it.”
Bethany gasped. “You’re such a grouch.”
A grumble followed.
Declan moved into the clearing to find Bethany on her knees digging through the dirt in the garden beds. When her gaze found his she stood, wiping her hands on her jeans. Dirty handprints remained.
Her face pinched, her brow furrowing and she stumbled over her words at her haste to speak them.
“This is Gordon McAllister…”
“Whatcha introducing me for? We’ve met.�
� The old man shook his head as he leaned on a rake.
Bethany’s head swung from the gardener, a man he’d found without subtlety and a gruff manner, back to him.
“Oh. Well good then. I was worried you may think him an enemy.” She sank back to her knees. From his angle, he could see down her shirt. He cleared his throat and stared at the garden bed where she was planting some sort of bulb.
He tried to stamp down the guilt swirling inside him over feeling so attracted to her. She may be technically an adult but the age difference made him feel dirty.
“Is everything okay?” She bit her lip. “I forgot to tell you where I was. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
“Good. You help out?”
The rich scent of dampened soil filled his lungs. Somewhere beyond his sight, a sprinkler sprayed, sputtering loudly. Above him, thick clouds blanketed the sky, and sunlight played peek-a-boo. They were due for a few showers on and off all week.
“I like learning new things and feeling as though I make a difference.”
“What about the foundation?”
“It’s not the same thing. I give them money. Here I can see the fruits of my efforts. See them mature, knowing I made it happen. I know without me someone else would still plant them but…”
Her nose crinkled as she struggled to find the right words to make him understand. She didn’t need to, he did.
“I know what you mean. Everyone wants to make a mark on the world. Leave something behind.”
“Yes. Exactly. See that apple tree over there?” Beth pointed to one about six meters away. “I planted that when I was about fourteen. Quinn makes the best crumble from her spoils.”
She continued to surprise him. He tried to hold on to the spoiled little princess image in his mind but like a sandcastle too close to the water, it washed away.
When a shiver caught his attention, he held out his hand. “I believe you’re done for the day. Another ten minutes and you’ll probably catch a cold.” She didn’t argue, instead took his offered hand after once again wiping the soil from her own.
He pulled her to her feet and together they started back to the house.
“Do you help out often?”
“Yes, keeps me busy. I like contributing. Makes me feel less useless.”
“You’re not useless.”
“Rather a different tune from earlier.”
He looped his hands behind his back. “I never said you were useless.”
“No, just implied I didn’t seem to know what’s good for me.”
Her eyes sparkled. He sensed she enjoyed their verbal spars. At least, so long as she was winning.
“I think you’ll continue to surprise me.”
Bethany’s head whipped around. Her lips parted, giving way to inappropriate thoughts.
He cleared his throat again, aware of their location. “This is a beautiful place. Been in the family long?”
“What? No. My mother bought it in her twenties not long before I was born.”
“Inheritance?”
“Something about a rich aunt.”
“You don’t believe the story?”
Her shoulder lifted, dropped. “My parents could be secretive. Still can be. I stopped asking certain things after a while. I love it here though. It’s the place my mother lived. She tended the garden with Gordon, me playing close by. At least that’s the story.”
“You don’t remember?”
“Unfortunately, the bad memories took over the good. I can remember her final days but not what she smelled like or how her laugh sounded. I really wish I could recall those little things.”
“Why not ask? Surely Davies or Greta could tell you?”
“My mother’s name is somewhat taboo in the house. Everyone loved her so much. I think it hurts them to think of her.”
“And Caitlyn?”
Her pretty eyes were filled with moisture. “Who am I to drudge up a painful memory for something so trivial?”
“I doubt she’d mind. As much as it hurt, I always told my sister about all the things I remembered about our mother. She died young too.”
“I’m sorry. How old were you?”
“Sixteen. Riley was twelve.”
It seemed strange to be surrounded by such beauty talking about painful times in their pasts. Bethany was practically a stranger and yet he’d revealed things he hadn’t in some time. It felt good to purge himself a little.
They reached the kitchen door. He held it open and waited for her to precede him.
“For what it’s worth, I believe your mother would be extremely proud of the man you’ve become.” Shifting her feet, her gaze fell upon the arch separating the kitchen with the rest of the house. “I think I’ll take a shower. Get rid of this dirt.”
Before he could respond, she was halfway up the wide curved staircase. He followed her and stared up at her retreating form.
“Bethany?”
Her hand clenched around the railing but she still stopped. Looking over her shoulder, she caught his gaze.
“It means a lot. Thank you. Your mother would’ve loved to see the woman you’ve grown into.”
She gave him a strained smile. He sensed she was close to losing it.
“Thank you, Declan.”
Taking the rest of the steps two at a time, she quickly disappeared from sight.
***
When he arrived for dinner, Declan found Bethany alone poking at grilled chicken fillet on her plate.
“Evening.”
She dropped the fork which clanged against the crockery. “Sorry. I wasn’t expecting anyone. Let me fix you a plate.”
“No, don’t get up—” Bethany had already retrieved a plate from the cabinet before he’d gotten the words out. Flitting about the kitchen, she filled his plate from the platters still warming in the oven.
Unable to sit while she organised his meal, he opened the fridge, pulling a bottle of water from the neat stack.
“Water?”
“Thanks.”
He found two glasses and filled them. By the time he’d done his small task, Beth had finished hers and placed a steaming plate across from where she’d been sitting.
Waiting until she’d once more seated. He sank down into his chair. His mother, while she’d been alive had drilled in gentlemanly manners and like Bethany, he’d begun to forget other small things about her, but that one had stayed.
The scent of rosemary and melted butter filled his lungs. A growl announced the hunger he’d previously ignored.
Taking a bit, he chewed, the flavour bursting on his tongue.
He must’ve made a sound of appreciation as Bethany smiled in apparent amusement.
“Davies is a culinary genius.”
“Yes, he is.”
His gaze swept the room, noticing for the first time they were the only occupants. The kitchen counters had been wiped down, looking as though they were never used. Lights had been turned down, casting most of the kitchen except the table and work areas in shadows.
Something about the picture seemed odd.
After swallowing another bit, he worked out what it was.
“Does Davies not join you?”
“No. He eats later with Greta and Gordon. It feels good to share a meal.”
Her words sent a frisson of anger down his spine.
“Doesn’t your father eat with you?”
Bethany’s head jerked at his tone. He’d been much harsher than intended. The anger working through his bloodstream directed at Dirk Bennett.
“He mainly eats in his office.”
His jaw tightened. His father may not have been the best but when he’d been home they ate together. As a family.
What annoyed him more was Bethany didn’t understand why. She didn’t know any better. To her, this was normal.
A hot ball of anger at Dirk Bennett burned in his gut. How could the man segregate Bethany like this?
He tried a safer topic before he found himself berati
ng her again. He couldn’t foist his ideals of what a family should be like on her. It wasn’t one size fits all.
“Tell me about your staff.”
Wariness replaced furrowed brows, her eyes darkening in a way he’d seen the night before. Their earlier truce gone, the air between them grew colder than a winter’s frost. “What about them?”
“They’ve been with you long?”
Her smile could only be described as bittersweet. “They’re the only constants in my life. The only ones who have never left me. You don’t believe one of them are involved, do you? Because let me tell you, Declan O’Neill they would rather chop off their hands than hurt me.”
“I wasn’t suggesting anything of the kind. I was just interested in knowing more about those around you. I have no doubt they are loyal to you. Your father wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Her body relaxed as it fell back against the chair. “Good, because I’ll not have you intone anything of the sort. They’re my family.”
He could tell she loved them. All of them. Even crotchety old McAllister.
And why not? They’d been a part of her life since birth. They probably knew her better than her own father. He recalled Davies’ push to take her to the luncheon. Suddenly, he appreciated the man more.
At least someone appeared to be in Beth’s corner.
She looked disappointed when he retired for the evening. Most women would pout, expecting him to entertain them but not Bethany, though he sensed she was lonely, despite all her efforts to keep busy.
It wasn’t his concern. He was here to do a job, not interfere with her life.
After unbuttoning his shirt, he removed his shoes and sank down onto the large four-poster bed. The room he’d been allocated had been specially decorated for male guests. Done in dark, masculine tones, the bed dominated the space. In the opposite corner sat a sturdy dark green armchair currently overtaken by his clothes, and to his left was an old-fashioned impeccably polished heavy oak writing desk with matching chair.
An oil painting of the area during its foundation two hundred some years ago hung on the far wall opposite the glass door which opened to reveal a large balcony that overlooked the pool, gardens and further out in the distance, the skyline of the city.
Gilded Cage (Harbour Bay Book 6) Page 4