by Mary Birk
“No, thank you.” Anne answered automatically. She pulled additional dishes and silverware out of the cupboards, and began to set another place at the table while Darby made herself at home on the sofa.
Darby leaned back on the sofa, curling her long legs underneath her. She studied Anne, her gaze like a surgical examination.
“So what happened to your boyfriend?” Raw enmity pulsated in Darby’s words.
Anne flushed and momentarily couldn’t think of anything to say. Her breeding may not be equivalent to that of Lady Dominique Reid, Darby for short, but Anne was sure that her manners were better. She decided to ignore the question. Rise above it, she told herself.
Folding the extra napkin, she said, “Terrence said you would be in town, but he didn’t mention why. Are you here for work?”
“I’m working with him on an investigation.” Darby stretched out her arms and yawned. “But I’m not really surprised he didn’t mention it—I doubt he’s had much time for conversation with you. As I recall, it’s not your conversation that has him acting like a fool. I’m surprised you let him out of bed long enough to go to work.” Darby didn’t even try to disguise her contempt.
Anne could not remember anyone ever acting like this to her. Certainly she and Terrence had been passionately involved in each other when they’d come to Scotland together—they’d been on their honeymoon, for heaven’s sake. She couldn’t even fathom how to respond to such antagonistic comments, but then her temper rose to her rescue, and words rushed out, even as she made sure her voice was cool and her face confident.
“Of course I do, Darby, but just long enough for him to go to work, then it’s back to bed for him. Sometimes I even allow him enough time to eat a meal, as long as he makes it quick.”
Anger radiating from her, her sister-in-law raised a finger, coiled to strike, a rattlesnake with sharp scarlet fingernails. Darby had just opened her mouth to respond, no doubt with more poisonous words, when she was interrupted by Terrence opening the door and walking in, carrying the promised wine. He put his keys and the wine down and looked first at Darby, then at Anne. Anne could feel his gaze assessing her; he knew she was upset.
He came over to where Anne stood and kissed her. “Hello, my darling. Hello, Darby.” With his arm around Anne, he looked back at Darby. “How long have you been here?”
“Not too long.” Darby’s face looked bored, the dangerous rattlesnake temporarily dormant. “Anne’s cooked. Pasta.” She said the last word as if it were gruel.
Terrence grinned. “Indeed, I know she has. Anne makes great pasta. And she’s had a long day after her trip from the States, so I’m going to make her sit down now.” He led Anne over to a chair. “Would you like some wine, my love?”
Anne smiled at him. “Not right now. I have some sparkling water in my glass over there.”
He brought it to her and kissed her again. “I’ll just open the wine. Darby, some Chianti?”
“In a bit. I’m having a whiskey.” Darby took a drink from the cut crystal tumbler. “So, Anne, what exactly have you been doing with your long day?”
Anne bit her lip, not wanting to talk about the house with Darby. If it turned out that Terrence didn’t want her to stay after he found out about the pregnancy, having Darby know about their house would just make everything worse. Anne had no doubt that if Terrence ended things between them again, Darby would be thrilled.
“Not much.” She hoped Terrence would get the signal that she did not want Darby to know about the house.
Terrence brought his glass of wine and sat on the edge of Anne’s chair, his arm around her. But he’d missed her signal in his effort to show his solidarity with her. “Not true. She’s been meeting with the designer at the house all afternoon, then came home and made dinner.”
“House?” Darby’s eyes narrowed at Terrence, but then shifted to Anne. Anne made herself stay steady, and let Terrence talk.
He kept his arm around her as he spoke. “We’ve bought a house here in town. The painters are lined up, Anne?”
She nodded, and felt him squeeze her shoulder in support. He had to know his sister was a bitch, and he was showing them both clearly whose side he was on. She looked up at him and smiled. “They should be finished this week.”
Terrence raised those dark eyebrows and shot a look at Darby that made Anne shiver. His tone was ominously calm. “We’d be pleased to have you visit us there when it’s finished, Darby. Just check with Anne to make sure your visit fits with our schedules.”
Darby looked at the two of them, then shrugged. “Fine. Should I look for a hotel for tonight? Obviously I didn’t know Anne would be here when I made my plans.”
Terrence’s gaze caught Anne’s. “Would it be convenient for you if Darby stayed here?”
Anne managed a thin smile. “Of course. You’re more than welcome, Darby.”
“That’s settled, then. Shall we eat?”
Chapter 21
IT WAS ONLY A GUARDED TRUCE between Darby and her, Anne knew.
Dinner went well enough, with Darby keeping her scarlet-tipped claws hidden and concentrating on talking to Terrence about her job and family news. Darby inquired whether they were going to Dunbaryn for Easter, and Anne could tell her sister-in-law was dying to know if the rest of the Reid family knew Anne was here. But Terrence didn’t bite, simply shook his head and said with the case at the stage it was, he couldn’t leave town right now.
He hadn’t mentioned that their wedding anniversary this year fell on Easter, and Anne wondered if he remembered. She had his present hidden in a closet in the guest room where Darby would now be staying. She hoped Darby wouldn’t go snooping and find it. Maybe she could move it later before Darby had a chance to go to the room.
After dinner, Terrence insisted that he and Darby do the dishes as Anne had cooked. Anne heard them talking about the investigation as they worked, but she didn’t bother to listen, instead using the opportunity to move the present from the guest room closet to under Terrence’s bed. Surely he wouldn’t have any reason to look under the bed tonight. She smiled, unable to think of any possible circumstance in which Lord Terrence Reid would crawl under a bed.
When the present was safely stowed away, she settled herself on top of the bedspread. To keep her mind off of problems that couldn’t be resolved without first talking to Terrence, Anne spread out her design papers again and tried to concentrate on her work. But her mind wouldn’t cooperate. Her thoughts kept going back to her awkward situation and how she could work things out with Terrence. There was no way to have the conversation about the baby tonight with his sister in the flat. The discussion was bound to be volatile and they would need privacy to work things out. Maybe one night was really all Darby would be staying with them.
Finally, Anne was able to make herself focus on her design sketches. She didn’t know how long she’d been working when she looked up to see her husband closing the bedroom door behind himself.
“Kitchen is in order, and I’ve shown Darby to her room. Shall we go to bed?” Terrence buried his face in her neck, kissing her in a way that made shivers run through her.
She dropped her pencil and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Wonderful idea.”
“Lord, you smell good. I’ve been thinking about you all day. I can’t believe this is legal—having such a beautifully delectable wife at home to love every day and night. Has to be a crime of some sort.”
She laughed, then closed her eyes, tilting her head back as he nibbled on her neck. “I’ve been thinking about you, too—but can I talk to you about something first?” Although she couldn’t tell Terrence about the baby until they had more privacy, she could talk to him about the job now.
“Of course. What is it?” His hand was under her shirt, his fingers tracing paths up and down her middle, stopping before touching her breasts or traveling far enough south to take away her power of speech.
Almost breathless, she explained about the job and added, “It’s call
ed Lynstrade Manor. It’s just outside of Glasgow. Jonas has been dealing with the estate manager of the corporation that owns it.”
He looked up and smiled. “A job in Scotland—and close to Glasgow? It sounds perfect. Our house will be in upheaval with the decorators, anyway. We can work out the details, but perhaps we could stay somewhere halfway between for part of the time.” He ran his fingers along her side, tracing the curve of her waist down to her hips. “I told you there would be work for you in Scotland. Does it start soon?”
She nodded. “The consultation meetings will be at the end of the week, and work is scheduled to start next Monday. They’ve offered for us to stay at the house, but Jonas said no. He likes to have his independence when he’s on a job—otherwise he says the work is all-consuming. The client will pay for us to stay at hotel near the estate. Maybe you and I can stay there together part of the time and here part of the time.” She relaxed her legs, hoping he’d notice and accept the invitation.
“We’ll need to get you a car, and you, my love, will need to learn to drive on the left side of the road.” His fingers trailed down, down, so close, then changed course and went slowly up her body. Anne murmured an assent in response to his remark about the driving, but her mind was on where his fingers were, and wondering why he just wouldn’t go where she needed him to be.
“Is Jonas there yet?” His fingers continued their tortuous path, arousing but never actually going anyplace that could satisfy.
“No, not till Thursday.” She made herself breathe.
“We’ll have to take him to dinner or something.”
“That would be nice. Thanks, Terrence.” Touch me just further down a bit.
“Girl, I want you to be happy. You love your work, I love you, and I am just damned happy you’re not on another continent.” He pulled her close and nuzzled her neck again, this time using his tongue to send ripples through her. She giggled, knowing that now he would fulfill the promises he’d made with his teasing.
“You’re tickling me.”
“I’m going to do more than tickle you.” His hands left the restricted area they had been patrolling and went north, then south.
“Oh, God, I’ve missed you.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and let him explore. “But we have to be quiet. Darby is . . .”
“Her room is on the other side of the flat. Besides, she can leave if she doesn’t like it.” He reached over, taking his hand away for one unbearable moment while he turned off the lights.
TUESDAY, APRIL 7
Chapter 22
REID WENT DIRECTLY to the office from early Mass, before which he’d gone for a run. Anne had been sleeping soundly when he left. He’d made coffee and, not knowing if her herbal tea of the day before was a regular habit now or something she just liked occasionally, put the tea things on the counter and left her a note.
He quickly thumbed through the report he’d pulled from his email inbox on the testing of the wigs from the Ramsey house. No match with the hairs in the car. Well, that would have been too easy.
This morning his first order of business was to deal with the press, something he generally disliked because he begrudged the time away from his actual work. However, talking to the press was an integral part of the strategy on a case. He had taken care to build strong relationships with both the print and the broadcast reporters. And now he intended to use those relationships to carefully leak the information that he wanted dispersed.
He gave a professional smile when Allison led Carolyn Caspary into his offices.
“Superintendent Reid, lovely to see you.” The reporter, dressed in a sleek silk suit the color of antique bronze, a color that set off the highlights in her deep auburn crown of hair, kissed him on both cheeks.
“Ms. Caspary, thank you for meeting me so early this morning.”
“I’m always happy to accommodate you.” She beamed at him. “I’m still collecting accolades from the last story you gave me.”
“My pleasure.” He turned to his constable. “Allison, would you please see whether the reports we’re expecting from the lab are in?”
“Yes, guv.” Allison moved to the door, closing it after her.
Without an audience, Carolyn’s manner instantly relaxed. “So, Terrence, how are things?” Then, apparently sensing his guard going up, she added, “Off the record.”
“Off the record?”
She held up a hand. “I swear, absolutely off the record. What’s going on with you and Anne? I haven’t heard anything new since you got back from California. Much to my frustration, you’ve both stayed out of the press since then.”
Something squeezed his heart, something like joy, something like flying. Like a besotted schoolboy, he wanted to tell someone, anyone, about his sweetheart.
“Off the record, then, as we’d like our personal life to continue to stay out of the press. Anne is here. In Scotland.” He pressed his smile into an acceptable, conservative, barely curved line, not letting it burst into the ludicrous display of exhilarated excitement he felt.
Carolyn raised her eyebrows in a question. “After everything? I’m a bit surprised.”
“That was my fault as much as hers. I’m not the easiest husband, as you may surmise.”
“Indeed, I can.” She crossed her legs, waggled her foot.
Guilt swamped him. “I’m sorry . . .”
She waved his apology away. “I don’t need to hear it again. It was a long time ago. I’m glad for you. Really.”
“Thank you. What about you? How are you doing?”
She tilted her head, casting her eyes down. “As a matter of fact, Ian is moving in next week.”
Guilt lifted, and he smiled. “You’re getting married?” Ian Stevens, one of the top executives in the news organization for which Carolyn worked, was a solid, good man.
She made a face. “No. Moving in as in living in sin.”
He felt his face flush. “I didn’t mean . . .”
“You forget; I happen to know you’re no saint.” She gave him an annoyed look. “Though not for lack of trying.”
Reid stiffened. “I’ve never professed to be a saint.”
She flapped her hand in an airy gesture. “Forget I said that, Terrence. It was a shitty thing to say. So Anne’s really back this time? For good?”
He kept his emotions hidden behind his eyes, wary now. “She is, yes.”
She swatted him on the side of the arm. “Smile, you beast. You know you want to.”
He gave up and flat out grinned.
Carolyn smiled in return, touched his cheek. “She must be something special. I hate her.”
He nodded, moved away from her hand, uncomfortable. He shuffled some papers on his desk. “The reason I called you is that I have a story for you. I can give part of it to you now, and if you work with me, I’ll give you an exclusive when things are at a point where we can let more information out.”
Carolyn looked interested. “About the Ramsey death?”
“Aye. Are you interested?”
“Definitely.”
“You’ve heard that Richard Ramsey was found dead yesterday morning?”
“Of course, I’ve heard. The head of RI. On the railroad tracks. Speculation is that it was suicide.”
He shook his head. “Not suicide. Ramsey had agreed to provide evidence regarding money being laundered to fund terrorist cells. We suspect that may have led to his murder.”
Her eyes zeroed in on his. Now she was all business. “Murder? You’re sure? That’s been determined?”
“Aye. Yesterday the medical examiner gave me the preliminary report and I expect to get the final by tomorrow. Ramsey was stabbed through the heart and then thrown on the railroad tracks to disguise the cause of death.”
“Terrence, I think I love you.” When he frowned, she clicked her tongue in exasperation. “A figure of speech, you jerk. You’re married. I get it. Just give me the rest of it, and I’ll do what I can to figure out any other background info
rmation.”
“And you’ll share with me whatever you find out as well?”
“Right. You first. Start with why Richard Ramsey would even know anything about the whole business. Money laundering, terrorism, all that. It doesn’t sound like anything he’d be mixed up in.”
“Ah, well.” Reid proceeded to dole out the story he wanted told, making sure he did not let on who was behind it all. Not yet.
Chapter 23
ANNE RUSHED to the bathroom, and with no time to close the door, leaned over the toilet and threw up. She weakly reached her hand to the lever, flushed, keeping her head curled above the toilet as she waited for the next wave of nausea to hit, thankful Terrence had gone to work hours ago. The next onslaught came, after which she flushed again immediately, but the disgusting smell of vomit still clung to the air. She shivered, then scooted the bathroom rug under her as protection from the cold tile, wondering if she could make it back and forth to the bedroom to get her robe before she threw up again. Deciding not to take the chance, she rested her forehead against the ceramic bowl and closed her eyes.
A voice brought her to attention, and Anne looked up, momentarily confused.
“Something you ate?” Darby was standing by the door, cool disdain oozing from her like slime from a snail.
“I guess.” Anne wiped her mouth, relieved that her empty stomach had started to settle down. She swallowed. “I thought you would have left when Terrence did.”
“He gets up too early for me. I’ll see him over at High Street later.”
Anne nodded. She felt wrung out and her mouth tasted awful. She wished Darby would just go away.
“Do you have everything you need in the other bathroom? I didn’t get a chance to check.” She felt a little ridiculous, acting the hostess while practically hugging the toilet.
“I have everything I need. Do you think it’s the flu?” Before Anne could think of a reply, Darby went on, “It can’t be food poisoning; I feel fine and I assume Terrence didn’t get sick or he wouldn’t have gone to work.”