by Lora Leigh
“And shouldn’t have been sold to you,” Stephen said with a weary sigh. “Such is business, though. It seems you are taking offense to what may be no more than friendly banter, Mr. Malone. That’s unfortunate. I admit, I do feel rather possessive of it. Fitzhugh acquired it at a time when I was young and relatively less appreciative of my own belongings.”
Jordan had acquired the estate after Fitzhugh’s death from the French authorities, months after Tehya had killed him. The property had at one time been Malone land, owned by Jordan’s grandfather before the Malone family came to America. “I assure you, I rarely misunderstand a situation, Mr. Taite,” Jordan assured him. “I’ve based my business on knowing exactly how to read others.”
Taite’s brows lifted. “And what exactly would that business be, Mr. Malone? I must admit, I’ve never fully understood it.”
“I must admit, I’ve never fully explained it,” Jordan said dismissively before turning to the senator. “If you’ll excuse me, I believe I have some business to discuss with your son-in-law, Senator. As soon as I collect Teylor.”
Tehya could be a part of this family. Their determination to acquire his land should have clued him into their personalities. Personalities that Tehya could never endure for long.
She could never fit in with the pompous arrogance that defined the two he had just met.
Their greed was only surpassed by their own sense of superiority. And it was all he could do to rein in his anger and not inform them of the very formidable enemy they had just made.
He couldn’t ignore the looks they had given her that had sent her running, their disgust for her preferred drink apparent as it sliced through her confidence.
Bastards. They’d insulted him well enough over the years; he wouldn’t allow them to insult her. He’d just never imagined her family could be all bad.
The estate they coveted had been all but given to Fitzhugh at a time when Stephen Taite and Joseph Fitzhugh had been friends during their youth. Jordan’s acquisition of it had been a stroke of luck.
The estate was run by caretakers for the most part, a couple whose own safety depended upon their cover and their ability to maintain that illusion.
Stepping into the hall, he moved to the upper end and toward the ladies’ room Travis stood outside of, leaning against a wall, his shoulders tense, his expression drawn into hard, forbidding lines.
Travis stepped up to Jordan and whispered, “I can’t believe she shares that bastard’s blood. He managed to insult her and Lilly all in the same breath. As though his blood were somehow far richer than others’.”
Jordan snorted at the thought. “It was in the dossier we had on him.” He finally shrugged. “We should have been forewarned.”
Travis shook his head. “Hell, Lilly was raised with the damned family. She warned us. For the past year, I’ve moved in his society and never even been introduced, and now I understand why. Son of a bitch. Tey is so fucking down to earth, and just kind.”
Knowing Tehya it had been hard to imagine the Taites were such as holes though.
“Because he avoided it,” Jordan murmured knowingly.
Travis’s jaw clenched. “Bloody bastard doesn’t know who he’s dealing with. I could have out-blooded him as well as out-moneyed him at one time. Hell, I still could I believe.”
Travis had been an English lord himself once, Jordan remembered. Before he’d lost it all and turned to vengeance instead.
“Do you miss it?” Jordan asked him, suddenly curious. “You gave up a lot to join us.”
Travis’s lips quirked in a slow, crooked smile as his gaze suddenly lit with a flare of humor. The door opened then, and Lilly stepped out, her gaze meeting her husband’s as a smile transformed her, lighting her face and the very air around her with warmth.
“Hell no.” Travis sighed. “Look at what I gained.”
Jordan’s attention had fractured though, the response meaning little as Tehya emerged behind Lilly. His gaze met Tehya’s and he saw the weary somberness in it.
Travis and Lilly moved toward the ballroom as Jordan pulled Tehya to him and pressed her head against his chest, feeling her take a deep, uneven breath.
“I’m fine,” she told him. “It’s like having the rug pulled out from under your feet, I imagine. It just takes a moment to get your breath.”
She hadn’t imagined they could be so carelessly cruel, even though her mother had regaled her with tales of the society she had once been a part of. A world where best friends were no more than backbiting enemies and trust was an illusion that only children were allowed to believe in. Rather like the tooth fairy.
She pulled back from him slowly, lifted her face, and gave him a careful smile. Another illusion. The lie that she was fine and it would only take moments to get over the shock.
She felt flayed, her flesh stripped to the bone as the family she had dreamed of for years had looked down their noses at her.
Had her mother ever been like that? Her grandparents?
Suddenly, she was incredibly glad that she hadn’t been raised to cherish and miss such a life as her mother had.
Francine Taite had grieved for the life and the family she had been stolen away from. The rare times she and Tehya had had together after their escape from the Fitzhugh estate, her mother had dreamed aloud of returning one day.
Until her parents had died, and within days, Francine had died as well.
“I believe this is why we avoid such events,” she whispered with amused conspiracy to him as he slowly released her. “So we don’t have to put up with the likes of the badgers such as Stephen and Craig Taite.” The hurt was there, thick and heavy, though carefully hidden.
She could joke about it, she could even pretend long enough to convince Jordan, that it didn’t hurt.
But Tehya knew better. It sliced her heart to ribbons.
His lips parted to speak when she caught a hint of movement from the corner of her eye.
It wasn’t an assassin, it wasn’t an attacker, a journalist, or any of the hundreds of people she would prefer to avoid.
Rather, it was the single member of the Taite family who seemed to have a heart rather than marble where a heart should be.
“Teylor.” Twenty-two, and suddenly uncomfortable, Journey Taite stood before them, dressed in emerald green chiffon and satin. The ball gown she wore was at once innocent and incredibly sexy.
Her long, wavy red-gold hair fell below her shoulders in thick, luscious waves, a far cry from the braid Journey wore at work.
“Hello, Journey.” Tehya felt Jordan’s hand at her back, comforting and warm.
Journey gripped the small clutch purse she carried with desperate hands as she stared back at Tehya, who knew exactly why the other girl was so apprehensive.
“We have a deal, Journey,” she assured her. “I won’t break it.”
The promise Tehya had made that she would never reveal to anyone that Journey worked for her, except the IRS.
Journey let out a slow, hard breath and within a blink of an eye, the natural vivacity that seemed to be so much a part of her, gleamed in her eyes once again.
“I’d hate to give Grandfather or Father, either one, a stroke,” she whispered confidentially. “Or do anything to dislodge the sticks up their bums.”
Jordan gave a small cough, an obvious attempt to cover his laughter.
For a moment, Tehya had to fight back tears, though. This girl was everything she had hoped her family would be. Warm, charming, filled with laughter and generosity.
“Are you adopted?” Tehya asked as they turned and headed back to the ballroom. “There’s no way you’re truly related to them.”
Journey grinned at the accusation before sobering. “Actually, my mother tells me often that I remind her of grandfather’s missing niece. She says I’m too much like my cousin Francine. Enough so that she worries one day that she’ll lose me as well.”
Tehya wanted to weep. She’d never really exchanged confidences wi
th Journey for a reason. This reason. Because her memories of the past were still too painful.
“She’s missing?” Tehya asked as Jordan’s fingertips rubbed against her lower back in comfort.
“She was kidnapped more than thirty years ago,” Journey told her, her expression saddened. “She was killed about fifteen years ago. There’s rumors she had a daughter, but despite the family’s attempts to find her, she remains lost as well.”
Tehya made a noncommittal sound, listening rather than speaking as Journey discussed her family.
“I never met my cousin Francine, but Papa says I look a lot like her.”
Did she? Tehya stared at the younger woman for a quick second before looking out at the crowd on the ballroom floor as they reentered it.
“She must have been very beautiful then,” Tehya told her sincerely.
Journey’s smile was hopeful, though it lacked the confidence someone of her looks should have.
Journey did resemble Francine Taite, quite a lot actually. Tehya had seen pictures of her mother when she was young. A fragile, delicate young woman whose smile had been filled with infectious humor and charm. Journey could have passed for Francine’s daughter, perhaps more than Tehya could.
Finding one of the small seating areas, they sat down in a sheltered corner where they could watch the crowd and still talk. Tehya noticed Micah Sloane in his role as an independent bodyguard staying a careful distance from her, but close enough to ensure her protection.
“I don’t care much for the new managers of your company,” Journey said, thankfully switching topics.
Tehya had to control the urge to chuckle at the other girl’s pouting expression.
“Why’s that?” she asked.
“The McIntyres are nice enough.” Journey shrugged. “But they don’t have your vision, Teylor. I don’t think they’re going to make a profit like you would have.”
“And the difference is?” Tehya asked her, genuinely curious now.
Journey played with the ends of a heavy swath of hair that had fallen over her shoulder as a thoughtful look came over her face.
“You naturally pull in clients. They become as excited as you do at the prospect of your designs, while the McIntyres don’t truly seem to be taking it seriously. They actually seem more like drill sergeants.”
Her poor landscaping company. Tehya had to force back the grief at the thought of losing it completely. She loved the design aspects and the clients that always seemed to love the efforts she made to bring color and life to the property they hired her to fix.
“They’ll work out fine,” she finally promised, with absolutely no confidence that they could hold on to her clients.
Because Journey was right; she seemed to have an affinity for the clients she met as well as the designs that would best suit them.
“Why are you considering giving up the company, Teylor?” Journey asked, sounding concerned. “Is the reason financial? I’m certain I could help you find backers…”
“Journey. No.” Tehya laid her hand on Journey’s arm. “It has nothing to do with money and I haven’t made a final decision yet anyway. Lets wait and see what happens.”
The words nearly stuck in her throat from the painful realization that as much as she wanted to she may never be able to return to the life she had begun building for herself.
Journey’s head lowered before she lifted it and looked around. There was something on the other girl’s mind, and for a moment Tehya saw the sadness that filled her.
She would have asked about it if Journey’s face hadn’t gone through a quick, conflicting change of expressions.
At first, there was frustration, anger, then a glimmer of involuntary interest mixed with the English reserve Tehya always found so fascinating.
Following her gaze, Tehya watched the powerful form of Beauregard Grant as he made his way from the bar over to them.
At twenty-nine, Beau Grant was a tall, formidable vision. He wasn’t handsome in the conventional sense, rather he was dark and brooding. A closely cropped beard and mustache covered the lower part of his face, as well as a fine webbing of scars from a fiery car crash he’d been involved in years earlier.
His familial connections to England’s queen made him a much sought-after guest wherever he was staying, though his ties to several criminal elements made him a force to be wary of.
The fact that he was involved with Journey was something Tehya knew she would be losing sleep over.
“Journey.” He moved to the seating area, bent and kissed the younger girl’s cheek warmly. “I was wondering where you disappeared to.”
“I met Miss Johnson in the ladies’ room,” Journey lied smoothly. “We were discussing dresses.”
His expression was bland, neither believing nor disbelieving as he flicked a careless look toward Tehya.
“Your father’s looking for you as well,” he stated. “And I’m ready to claim that dance you owe me.” His tone didn’t encourage a refusal.
Tehya’s gaze narrowed on the couple as Journey rose to her feet with a small sigh of resignation. “Perhaps we’ll have a chance to discuss clothing designs later.” The unconscious wariness that descended over her worried Tehya now. “Good evening, Miss Johnson.”
“Miss Taite,” Tehya murmured as the couple moved off.
Grant’s hand settled at Journey’s lower back in a gesture of possessiveness and control that had immediately set off warning bells in Tehya’s mind.
He was too dark, too dangerous, and much too experienced for the demure child Journey still was in so many ways.
As she stood, Jordan moved beside her, his progress from the bar and the group of men he had been talking to made with deceptive laziness. He had been waiting for the other two to walk away.
“Interesting,” he murmured. “I personally would have chosen someone much lighter natured for my daughter if I were her father.”
Tehya turned and stared back at him in confusion. “Meaning?”
“Rumor is circulating tonight that her father and Mr. Grant have come to an agreement concerning various interests in exchange for Craig’s approval and subsequent agreement to force Journey into marrying him. An arranged marriage, I believe it was once called.” His icy gaze held hers. “What are his chances of forcing her into it?”
Tehya sighed heavily. “Excellent. Journey hasn’t developed the strength to fight against her father yet. Hell, he still controls damned near every aspect of her life that he’s aware of, to the point that she’s hiding the fact that she’s working.”
Tehya made a mental note to meet with Journey soon and discuss this. If her cousin wanted out of that marriage, if she wanted a way to disappear from such a cold-blooded family, then Tehya would help her.
“Genetics are a bitch,” Jordan said, his tone low. “It’s hard to imagine you’re from the same gene pool.”
“No kidding.” She could only shake her head at the thought of the arrogance and superiority that had oozed from Stephen and Craig Taite’s pores. How different they were from what she had imagined. There was none of the warm humor that Journey possessed, none of the charm she seemed to use unconsciously. It was even harder to imagine her mother was related.
“I’ll make sure I find out what Journey herself wants,” she told him, her gaze glittering with suppressed anger. “I won’t let her be forced into anything so important as marriage.”
There was his Tehya. Jordan felt a spurt of pride at the pure determination and protectiveness rising inside her.
“We’ll see,” he agreed. “I believe my business has been conducted for the evening, though. I would like to claim a dance from my very beautiful lover before other things get in the way.”
“Expect things to get in the way,” she informed him as she laid her hand in the crook of his arm once again and allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, where other couples were now moving in synch with the slow, seductive music the band had slipped into.
“Of cours
e,” he agreed with her.
“Have our watchers taken the bait yet?” she asked as she placed her head against his shoulder, his head bent to her.
“They haven’t moved.” His tone hardened. “But I hadn’t expected them to during the party. They’ve made no phone calls though, which I didn’t expect. I was hoping for a number to trace.”
“They’ve been careful all these years not to tip their hand, Jordan.” Weariness and a sense of impending doom was beginning to grow inside her once again. “They’re not going to slip up that easily.”
“I didn’t say it would be easy, now, did I?” he pointed out with an edge of amusement.
A smile tugged at her lips. “True,” she agreed, “you never promised it would be easy.”
His fingers tucked beneath her chin and lifted her head, his gaze staring down into hers. “They have to go through me to hurt you, baby. Me and the entire fucking team,” he swore.
Him and the entire team. He took care of those he considered his own. His agents, their wives, their children if needed. He claimed his shoulders were broad.
The fact was, she was still just a part of the team. It was nothing special. It was nothing romantic nor was it something he would allow them to have forever.
She had now though, she reminded herself. She had a chance to make some memories, a chance to gather his warmth, his passion to her and hold it for the cold, dark days ahead.
As he held her chin up, his head lowered to brush her lips with his. The latent hunger in the action sent heat surging through her body and hunger knotting her womb with such fierce heat it felt blistering.
God, she loved him. So much that she would walk through fire, a hail of bullets, or face her family simply because he felt it was for the best.
As his head rose, her hand lifted, her fingers touching his clean-shaven jaw. She didn’t care who watched, she didn’t care the conclusions they drew. She had to tell him, it was burning in her heart and in her soul, that need to whisper the hunger she knew would never ease.
Whatever happened, whatever the growing panic building inside her meant, she didn’t want to leave this world without him knowing.…