ASHFORD (Gray Wolf Security #5)

by Glenna Sinclair

  Miles switched it off.

  I’d assumed we were flying commercial, but Miles pulled into a small, private airstrip just outside of town where a small jet was waiting just off the runway. He came around and took my hand to help me out of the car, his fingers intertwining with mine as though they owned that space. And, perhaps, they did. He often held my hand when we were out together. I kind of assumed it was to keep me at his side. And it worked. I was always so nervous that it gave me a certain amount of courage to feel his strong hand wrapped around my own. Maybe it worked that way for him, too, though I couldn’t imagine he would need courage, especially not from the likes of me.

  We walked to the plane, and a young man greeted Miles by name.

  “Jonathon,” Miles said in return, shaking the man’s hand with his free one. “How are you?”

  “I’m good, sir. Glad to see you again.”

  “Yes, well, if only it was under better circumstances.”

  The man looked down at the ground for a second, and then he was looking at me, naked curiosity in his eyes as they moved over my face.

  “May I introduce my wife,” Miles said. “Riley, this is Jonathon Calla, my father’s private steward. Jonathon, this is my wife, Riley Thorn.”

  I rarely heard my name attached to Miles’, so it was always kind of jarring. I managed to control my reaction this time, however, forcing a smile that felt too heavy on my facial muscles as I accepted Jonathan’s light handshake.

  “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Thorn,” Jonathon said, as he gestured toward the plane. “Everything is set up for you. Please, make yourselves at home.”

  Miles led the way to the steps, letting go of my hand and pressing his against the small of my back. Even after all these months, I was still unused to him touching me. Not that he did it often. But it was still odd—and a little thrilling—to feel the heat of his hand against my back, even with the thin linen of my dress between us.

  The plane was like so many I’d seen on television and in the movies. It sported a half-dozen, leather-clad chairs, thick carpet, and expensive accents. I caught myself running my fingers over the fine-grain wood that was the arm rests of each chair. Miles stayed close to me, directing me to a chair toward the center of the cabin. I sat next to the window, and he sat beside me, quickly fastening his seatbelt and gesturing for me to do the same.

  I’ve flown twice in my entire life—to Florida and back to Texas. This was definitely a new experience for me. Jonathon brought Miles a whiskey without being asked, and a glass of red wine for me. When I tasted it, I realized it was a similar vintage to the one Miles and I had shared over dinner the night he proposed his crazy scheme for us to marry. I glanced at him, but he was staring at his cellphone, occupied with a text message displayed on the screen.

  I stared out the window, as the crew prepared the plane for takeoff. The longer we sat there, the more nervous I became until I grabbed Miles’ hand as the engines rumbled beneath us and the plane began to move.

  “You’re perfectly safe,” he said, leaning close to me so that only I could hear his words. “It’s much more dangerous to drive across town than it is to fly in an airplane.”

  “Yes, well, I’d rather be behind the wheel at the moment, thank you.”

  “You can’t always be in control.”

  “I don’t want to always be in control. Just right now.”

  He chuckled softly near my ear. “You are stubborn.”

  I would have argued, but the plane chose that moment to leave the ground. I don’t know what it was about being in such a small plane that made this moment so much worse than the overcrowded commercial jet we’d flown in earlier, but it did. I turned to him and buried my face in the side of his shoulder, a small groan slipping from my lips. He turned into me, my head sliding closer to his throat as he pressed his free hand against the side of my head.

  It would have been a nice moment if I hadn’t been so frightened—and if he hadn’t been laughing.

  Chapter 7

  Miles’ parents lived in Wellesley, Massachusetts, less than forty minutes from downtown Boston. Their house…my God…it took my breath away when I first saw it. This was the kind of colonial house I imagined when I thought of mansions. Only it was probably three times larger than I had imagined, with a sprawling lawn that could have been an entire park in the neighborhood where I grew up.

  “It’s okay,” Miles said as the SUV we were riding in pulled up to the house, “you can stare. Most people do.”

  “It’s impressive.”

  “It’s the definition of opulence.”

  I glanced at him, a little amused he would use that word to define his own childhood home. He had his arms crossed over his chest and was sitting so far back in his seat that he looked like a child about to have a temper tantrum. I wanted to reach over and reassure him somehow, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t understand his reluctance to see his parents, but I suppose I don’t often understand those sorts of things. I had no personal experience to draw from.

  “They won’t be there when we arrive,” he said. “They’ll be out for the evening. We probably won’t see them until morning.”

  “Your parents?”

  “Yes.”

  “They know we’re coming, right?”

  “Of course.”

  “Then why wouldn’t they be there?”

  “They have a busy social life, Riley. And they wouldn’t let something as common as my arrival change up their schedule.”

  There was no anger in his voice, no resentment. Just a kind of acceptance that broke my heart. The fact that he was correct in his assumptions only made it worse. We walked into the house, and the only person there to greet us was an elderly butler. He politely—but curtly—told us which room would be ours for the duration of our stay and bowed his way out of the room.

  Now I knew where Miles got some of his manners.

  “Come on,” Miles said, leading the way up the grand staircase that bisected the impressive, large entry hall. It was big enough to fit my entire bedroom inside of it and then some. And it was all marble—the walls, the floor, the ceilings—an impressive display that belonged in a museum. I was still staring at it as we walked up the stairs, turning at the landing to look back. It was even more impressive from such a height.

  Miles grabbed my hand and pulled me down a long, wide corridor that led to another corridor that led to another. I knew I would get lost if I tried to navigate all of this on my own, but Miles seemed to know exactly where he was going. With another turn, we stood in front of a set of double doors that opened onto a room that was…green. Green everywhere. The draperies, the carpet, the small loveseat and recliner set into a corner, the comforter on the bed. Even the linens in the bathroom—which I could see through another set of double doors—were green. And not just one shade of green, but dozens. Kelly green. Emerald green. Pale green. The green of shamrocks and ivy. It was overwhelming.

  “Does your mother like green?”

  “All the rooms have a color scheme like this. She usually puts me in the blue room, but I guess Lila and her husband are expected this weekend, too.”

  I walked over to the bed and picked up a pillow, pulling it against my chest as I sat down. Miles stood in the doorway, watching me, until the butler showed up with our suitcases. He immediately turned and moved out of the way, watching the man with a pained expression. I wondered for a second why he didn’t help the poor man who seemed overburdened with the weight, but then I could see that he wanted to. I knew that sometimes it was better to preserve a person’s pride than it was to offer them help. I was slowly learning that with my aunts. They kept firing the nurses I hired to stay with them during the day, insisting they didn’t need help. It took me a while, but I finally called Lisa’s mom and asked her to peek in on them a couple of times a day instead. Maybe they needed their freedom more than I’d always thought they did.

  Things were a little awkward after the butler left. Miles opened his ba
gs and began to unpack, so I followed suit. But we’d never really shared space before, so we kept tripping over each other. And when I was ready to change into my pajamas…I wasn’t even sure where I was going to sleep.

  “You take the bed,” Miles said almost as if he could read my mind.

  “What about you?”

  “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

  Awkward. I lay awake for a long time, listening to him in the darkness. At first, he was quiet, only making noise when he rolled over or adjusted his long legs over the short edge of the loveseat. But then he fell asleep, and I could hear his heavy breathing. It was reassuring in a strange sort of way. And ironic. Here I was, a married woman for what, three, four months? Yet, this was the first time I’d slept in the same room with a man.

  The virginal bride. Somehow I’d taken that idea to a whole new level.

  ***

  Miles was gone when I woke the next morning. I went into the bathroom and stepped into the shower. The walls were still wet from Miles’ shower. I couldn’t imagine how I’d slept through the noise of the water hitting the stone walls, but I had. The thought of it, of him standing here, naked…it filled my mind with images that brought back the heat of that kiss he’d given me on our wedding day. We hadn’t kissed since—not unless you counted the numerous kisses Miles had pressed to my forehead or the top of my head when we were out together—yet, the taste of his lips was still so strong on the tip of my tongue. I told myself it was just my imagination; that my mind had blown that one kiss into something it wasn’t. However, I couldn’t quite convince that other part of me, the part that quivered deep in my belly each time it crossed my mind.

  I dressed in a pair of black slacks and a soft white blouse, then headed downstairs. The sound of voices led me through a maze of rooms to a stone veranda along the side of the house. Miles was sitting with a tall woman with white hair, a man with a well-trimmed beard, and Lila. Lila spotted me first and stood, a welcoming smile relieving some of the tension in my shoulders.

  “Good morning, Riley,” she said, offering a quick hug. “Glad you found us. I’ve told my mother many times that we should provide guests with a map of the place, but she refuses.”

  “It’s not necessary with the number of staff we have lurking these hallways,” the white-haired woman said with a good natured smile.

  Miles watched as Lila pulled me to the table, gesturing for me to take a seat beside her. “This is my husband, Keegan, and my mother, Elena.”

  Keegan rose partially out of his chair and offered me something of a bow. And Elena inclined her head slightly, her eyes—like Jonathon’s the day before—full of curiosity.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Riley. I’d like to say that my son here has told us a lot about you, but he really hasn’t.”

  “He’s a private man,” I said, trying to ignore the way he was staring me down at that moment.”

  “That he is,” Elena agreed. “Always kept his thoughts to himself. With the exception of Lila here, of course. The two of you were always thick as thieves.”

  “I thought we still were,” Lila said. “But then I had to hear from the tabloid press about his upcoming nuptials, so maybe we’re not as close as we were.”

  “I wouldn’t say that,” Miles said. “It was just…”

  “…a whirlwind romance,” I said. “Neither of us really had a chance to share the news with anyone.”

  “If only we could all be so spontaneous,” Elena said.

  “Your aunts seemed pretty supportive,” Lila said.

  “Yes. They’ve always only wanted me to be happy.”

  “What about your parents?” Elena asked. “How do they feel about all this?”

  “Mother,” Miles began, but I cut him off.

  “My parents died when I was five.”

  “Oh,” Elena said, a cloud moving over her pretty features. I could see where Miles and Lila, even Robert, got their good looks. Their mother was very beautiful. And those green eyes were the same shade as Miles’; they even had the same emotions dancing in them so clearly that anyone could see what she was thinking. Even I could see that she was hurt and saddened. By Miles decision to marry without her, I would assume. And she seemed to understand that I could see that because her expression softened a little when she caught me looking at her.

  A heaviness settled over the table for a minute that was only broken when a maid brought a tray of pastries to the table.

  “Help yourself,” Elena said, addressing the table in general but looking at me. “Our cook is an amazing baker.”

  I picked up a cinnamon roll and tried to catch myself before a loud sigh slipped from my lips with the first bite. It was heavenly. When I looked up, Miles was watching me, a rare smile softening his expression.

  Conversation took a turn I couldn’t quite follow. They were talking about business, it seemed. I caught that Keegan was some sort of executive with their family finance company, but that’s all I really pieced together. After a while, Elena caught my eye and said, “Have you had enough of this yet?”

  I didn’t know what to say. She stood and came around the table, taking my arm as she tugged me out of my seat. “Let’s go walk those delicious pastries off.”

  “Mother, are you sure you should—”

  She waved a hand at Miles. “I want to get to know your young wife, Miles. Let us be, will you?”

  I glanced back at him, as she led the way into the garden. He looked deeply concerned, but so did Lila and Keegan as they watched us. What was it they were so worried about? Surely they didn’t think I would say something to upset her, did they? I may have been a wife of convenience, but I wasn’t a complete idiot. I knew how to be polite.

  The garden was terraced, not unlike the much smaller version in the backyard of the house I currently shared with Miles. We made our way down the first level, stepping into the second and its wild abandon of native plants. Cranberries and azaleas, honeysuckle and Mountain Laurels filled this space, the vibrant colors awe inspiring, even this late in the summer. I reached out to touch the petals of a marigold, causing Elena to chuckle softly under her breath.

  “Ironic that my son should marry the only person to appreciate this garden almost as much as myself.”

  “Why is that ironic?”

  “Because I could never get him out here when he was a child. He said it was boring to pick weeds and plant new seedlings.”

  I thought about the half-completed garden back in Texas, and I could see that. As much as he wanted to emulate what his mother had done here, he’d lost interest somewhere along the way. And that suggested a complicated relationship with his mother. And it made me want to get to know her all that much better.

  “He cares a great deal for you.”

  I glanced at her. “You think so?”

  “The way his face lights up when he talks of you tells me so much more than anything he might have said over the phone would have.”

  I tried to imagine Miles’ face lighting up, but couldn’t quite get there. “He’s complicated.”

  “He is. He hasn’t exactly had it easy. His father was always much too hard on him.”

  “I suppose that’s something father’s do.”

  “It is. But Jackson was always harder on Miles than either Robert or Lila. And that took a toll.” She squeezed my arm a little as she slowed the pace. “Lila is the eldest, but Miles was the first son. Jackson thought he was preparing the boy to take over his business as his father had failed to do with him. But what he was really doing was pushing him away.”

  I remembered Miles’ comment about how he went to law school but never took the bar because it was what his father wanted. The more I heard about Mr. Thorn, the more I was interested in meeting this man who could bring out that rebellious streak in Miles.

  “It breaks my heart when I think about it.”

  Elena’s voice seemed to be growing weaker with every step we took, and our pace had slowed quite significantly since we steppe
d onto the lower terrace. I had thought she’d slowed to enjoy the flowers, but now she was dragging on my arm so hard that it was obvious the movement was just too much for her. I saw a stone bench a few feet away, so I carefully directed her there.

  “Thank you,” she said softly as she settled down, sliding over a little to make room for me.

  “What is it?”

  “Ovarian cancer.”

  I’d expected her to say something like an infection or anemia or something innocuous that wasn’t life threatening. But she said cancer like it was innocuous, like it didn’t really matter.

  I was at a completely loss for words. All I could say was, “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be,” she said, touching my knee lightly. “It’s been a long battle that I’m glad Miles wasn’t here to watch. But I’m content with my situation now.”

  I wondered if this was why we were here, why I was here. Had Miles known his mother was ill when he asked me to marry him? Was this part of the reason why he needed a wife so quickly? Was it something to do with appeasing his mother, of showing her that he was settling down and had found contentment in his life? Or was there more to it, something a little more nefarious than that? Was he after some sort of inheritance, or something?

  I hated to have such dark thoughts about Miles. But, really, what did I know about him?

  “All three of my children are settled down now,” she said somewhat breathlessly. “My husband is mellower. Perhaps he’ll make it easier for Miles to accept his apology and come home. This whole construction thing is just a rebellion, his way of showing his father he can do well on his own. Now that he has done that, perhaps they can put things to rest and return to the way things should have been.”

  “What is that?”

  Elena shrugged. “Miles was always supposed to learn the business at his father’s side and then become the CEO one day. He went to law school to help him become a better business man, and to open the door to politics if he ever wanted to go in that direction. But then this whole mess began when Claire walked into his life, and then the whole fiasco with Robert…” Elena shook her head. “I can’t blame Miles for leaving. Who would want to see your future unfolding for someone else? At least he found something better than what that girl brought to the table.”