by Day Leclaire
Instead, she retreated into fantasy.
Eight
Something was wrong.
Jack couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but at some point between the amazing passion they’d shared and the strident glare of morning light, Nikki had changed. She sat beside him, staring out of the front windshield of his Aston Martin, her hands wrapped tightly around a metallic sequined clutch, which hid her engagement ring from view. The electric-blue sequins matched those on her dress, a light smattering that started at her hip and dusted her silk dress like brilliant stars against a pale blue sky.
“What’s wrong?” he asked quietly.
“What?” Startled from her reverie, she forced out a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “Oh, nothing. I guess I’m still half asleep.”
He considered letting it go at that, then decided to press a little harder. “Seriously. What’s wrong?”
The silence stretched for endless minutes. “This isn’t a good time, Jack,” she finally said in a low voice. “We’re on our way to Matt’s wedding. Why don’t we talk afterward?”
“Talk. That means there is something wrong.”
She released her breath in a long sigh. “Will Alan be at the wedding?”
More than anything he wanted to pull the car over and demand she tell him what the bloody hell was going on. He stewed for a full mile. “Yes, I’m sure Alan will be here, if only to reassure himself that we no longer suspect him. Considering your current attitude, we have every chance of success since he’ll assume you’ve begun to suspect me of my father’s death, instead of him.” He paused. “Have you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” She spoke with such vehemence he had no choice but to believe her. “You could no more kill Reginald than I could.”
“Okay. Good. Fine.”
“What about Angela? Will she attend?”
It was a deliberate change of subject and Jack reluctantly went along with it. “Yes, just like she attended Kara and Eli’s wedding, though I suspect it’s the last place she wanted to be. It’s not easy playing the ‘other woman.’”
“No, I’m sure it isn’t. It takes a lot of grit—a characteristic she passed onto her eldest son, if not her youngest.”
Jack wanted to turn the conversation back to whatever had upset Nikki, but they’d arrived at the Colonel Samuel Beauchamp House, the use of Lily’s home her gift to the bridal couple. The irony of the venue didn’t escape him any more than it did Nikki. They’d met here. He’d stood on the balcony off the master bedroom salon when she’d entered the garden that night and bid a cool thousand for the pleasure of a dinner date with him…and the added bonus of a single wish. Then she’d disappeared into the darkness with him in pursuit. He’d caught up with her near the carriage house not far from where today’s nuptials would take place. The instant they’d touched, they’d fallen headlong into passion. And when they’d exchanged their first kiss, there within the intimate embrace of a dark winter night, that passion had exploded out of control.
Nothing had changed since then. If anything, it had grown more intense, built to a level Jack knew he’d never share with another woman…had no interest in sharing with another woman.
“You never made your wish,” he mentioned.
Nikki spared him a short, bleak look. “I’m saving it. I have a feeling I’m going to need it before much longer.”
Seriously. What the hell was going on? He fought back a surge of impatience, battling against instincts that demanded he force the issue, regardless of time or place. He clung to his few remaining scraps of patience. “That sounds ominous,” he limited himself to saying, downright impressed with his calm, easygoing tone.
“Not ominous, just true.”
They exited the car and Jack reached for Nikki’s hand. That’s when he saw it—or rather, didn’t see it. The ring finger of her left hand was bare. He froze and every last ounce of patience vanished in a surge of raw fury. Calm evaporated. As for easygoing… Screw easygoing. He’d never been easygoing in his life. Why start now?
“Where is it?” The words escaped low and harsh, far harsher than he’d intended.
She flinched. “I didn’t think it wise to wear it today.”
There was only one explanation for her newfound wisdom. She came from Charleston elite. He was a bastard, not to mention a murder suspect. “You’re ashamed of our engagement.” He threw the statement at her like a gauntlet.
“No! I…I’m just not sure there’s going to be an engagement. At least, not yet. Not until we have a serious talk.” She faced him, her eyes dark and shadowed with pain. “Jack, all this has caught me by surprise.”
He held up her bare hand. “Yeah, all this has caught me by surprise, too.” No matter what she claimed, she wouldn’t be hedging over their engagement unless she distrusted him on some level. Was it the murder…or merely who and what he was? “What’s going on, Nikki?”
She tugged free of his grasp. “Please not here. Not now.”
He planted his size fourteens in the sweeping driveway and refused to budge. “Oh, hell, yes, sweetheart. Right here. Right now.”
Her mouth set in a stubborn line. “Do you realize in the four months I’ve known you that you’ve never once said you love me?”
“Let me count the number of times you’ve said those words.” He held up his hands as though to count. “Huh. Unless my addition’s off, it’s the same number of times I’ve told you.”
She spared a swift look toward the house, taking in the stream of guests, some of whom had paused to watch their argument. Her breath escaped in a painful sigh. “Jack, I’ve been in love with you almost from the moment we met,” she confessed in a low voice.
“Then why have you never said so?”
“Probably for the same reason you haven’t. We’ve both been hurt. I told you about Craig. About how he used me. It makes it very difficult for me to say the words. I can also understand, based on your parents’ affair, that you might have a rather unfortunate view of love, as well.”
“Unfortunate view. An interesting way of putting it.”
“But when you proposed… Why didn’t you tell me you loved me then?”
“We got a little distracted.”
A brief, reminiscent smile came and went. “That’s true.”
Jack dropped his hands to Nikki’s shoulders. “Sweetheart, I love you. I wouldn’t ask you to marry me if I didn’t.” His declaration provoked tears. He gently thumbed the moisture from her cheeks. “Don’t. Not when I just told you I love you.”
“I have a confession to make,” she said in a low voice. “And when I make it you won’t love me anymore.”
He stiffened, uncertain how to respond to that. He’d been aware, ever since Charles McDonough came to his beach house, that she was keeping something from him. Now he’d find out what. “Nikki,” he began in concern.
“Trouble in paradise?” Alan’s question came as an unwelcome interruption. He approached, his expression settling into lines of deep concern. “I did warn you about my brother, Nikki.” He managed to hit the perfect blend of sorrow and indignation. “Jack’s not a safe man to be around. I can escort you out of here, if you’d like. He won’t stop us with everyone watching.”
“Not now, Alan,” Jack bit out.
His brother ignored him and held out his hand to Nikki. “I’m here for you, my dear.”
She took a swift, instinctive step backward. “Not a chance in hell,” she told him.
Alan’s hand dropped stiffly to his side and embarrassment reddened his cheeks at the slight. He glanced around, fury replacing his embarrassment when he realized how much attention they’d attracted. Without a word, he spun on his heel and walked away.
“Oh, God, I shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered. “We were trying to allay his suspicions and all I’ve done is make them worse. I just couldn’t help it. When he reached for me all I could see was the hand of a murderer.”
Jack sighed. “Don’t worry about
it. You weren’t going anywhere with him. I wouldn’t have let you. So even if you hadn’t rejected him, I would have reacted, and more forcefully than you. I also doubt that anything we could have said or done today would have eased his suspicions. It was ridiculous of me to think we could. Just as nothing I did during our childhood was sufficient to create a fraternal bond between us.”
“Not even saving his life?”
“That only made it worse, especially when I didn’t cooperate and die.”
Nikki flinched. “Don’t say that.”
“You do realize that if I hadn’t saved him that day, Reginald would still be alive.”
She turned on him, hands planted on her hips, eyes flashing like the sapphire in the engagement ring she wasn’t wearing. “Except that the guilt of standing by and doing nothing would have eaten you alive. You wouldn’t be the man you are today if you’d allowed your brother to die. That’s not who you are, Jack.”
Did she have any idea how much her vehement defense meant to him? She couldn’t possibly realize how those three simple sentences of support cut straight through to his marrow, gutting him. So few people in his life had shown such keen understanding of who he was at the very core. In part it was because he kept himself aloof from others, distancing his emotions and barricading all vulnerabilities from possible attack or harm.
He’d learned the importance of that at school, when he’d been subjected to various slights and slurs once his illegitimacy came to light—and Alan made certain it came to light on a regular basis. Girls had been warned away from him, as though he carried something they might catch. Boys sneered at his bastard status. Like tended to gravitate to like and there were damn few kids like him. Though the taint had followed him to college, the facts surrounding his birth weren’t as relevant, anymore, until gradually it hadn’t mattered at all. At least, it wasn’t relevant to what he’d accomplished with his life. But those early years had left an indelible mark.
“Nikki…” He wanted to explain it to her, explain how those experiences made him sensitive to slights—such as her refusing to wear his engagement ring in front of Charleston’s elite. But the faint strains of music issuing from the back of the mansion warned they were out of time. Regret swept through him and he forced himself to set it aside. He cupped her elbow, urging her toward the spacious patio and garden. “Come on. Let’s do our duty and then get the hell out of here.”
He paused to give his mother a kiss before taking a seat behind her and Alan, who sat at attention, refusing to look at them. Not that Jack objected. He’d had more than enough of his brother for one day.
The ceremony was lovely, or so everyone claimed. Since he was no expert, he wasn’t in a position to debate the issue. In his opinion his three Kincaid sisters, who acted as Susannah’s attendants, looked beautiful in their halter top dresses. The bride was downright stunning, her slender figure showcased in a strapless gown. It molded to her hips before flowing outward in a long, sweeping train. Matt appeared poleaxed by her, a suitable expression for a man about to be married.
The opening chords of the processional drifted across the gathering and three-year-old Flynn walked his mother up the aisle. Someone had slicked his dark hair down but hadn’t quite managed to keep the bow tie of his little tux from being knocked askew. But most moving of all was seeing him beam from ear to ear, his adoring gaze shifting from his father to his mother. And when the couple eventually exchanged their vows—ones they’d written themselves—the emotional words stirred tears in a good portion of those assembled.
The ceremony didn’t take long, fortunate since the cooling breeze flagged just enough for a subtle wave of humidity to seep through. “I assume we have to stick around for a while?” Jack asked in an undertone, hoping against hope that Nikki would insist they leave right away.
She instantly dashed those hopes. “For at least an hour.”
“Hell.”
His mother joined them. Behind her, Jack caught a glimpse of Alan’s retreating back. “Would you mind if I stay at the beach house tonight?” she asked, her face pale and drawn.
“Problem?”
She shrugged. “Alan’s in one of his moods. We could probably both use a break from each other’s company. I’m not due back to work until Monday, so I thought we could spend a little time together.” She offered Nikki a smile, a genuine one, Jack was relieved to note. “The three of us, of course.”
“I’d enjoy that,” Nikki replied with an equally genuine smile.
“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want, Mom,” he assured her. “We’re going to cut out in about an hour. I’ll track you down when it’s time.”
“Thanks. I guess I better go be sociable.” She spared a glance toward the cluster of Kincaids and sighed. “Even if it kills me.”
Over the next hour, Jack kept a discreet eye on his watch, counting down the minutes until they could leave. He popped a small round puffball of some sort in his mouth before glancing at his watch yet again. Ten more minutes. Ten more minutes and they’d be out of here. He could handle another ten.
Maybe.
He also kept an eye on Alan, who’d shed his affable facade and revealed a hint of a more familiar petulance. It didn’t bode well for the future since that petulance often led to his lashing out, without considering the consequences. Jack debated whether or not to talk to him in an attempt to smooth over troubled waters before they grew any more turbulent. Before he could, Nikki touched his arm.
“Jack, look.”
She drew his attention to Elizabeth who sat at a table with Cutter, the two chatting with her three daughters. Harold Parsons, the family attorney, approached. He took his time greeting each in turn, no doubt showing the kindness and courtly charm he reserved for the Kincaids, versus the more irascible attitude Jack had experienced. After a few minutes of chitchat, he held out a familiar looking envelope, The Kincaid Group’s distinctive logo decorating one corner. It was identical to the letter Jack had received at the reading of the will—the one his father had left to him and which he had yet to open. While Jack’s sealed letter was heavily creased and careworn from frequent handling, a coffee ring stain marring its surface, Elizabeth’s appeared pristine.
“He’s apologizing,” Nikki murmured.
“Son of a bitch, he had it all along.”
Elizabeth said something that appeared to be a question, her head tilting to one side. In response, Harold gestured in Jack’s direction. Almost as one, the four women swiveled to look at him, open shock on the faces of his three sisters, an expression of intense gratitude on Elizabeth’s. She excused herself and disappeared in the direction of the carriage house, no doubt to read her letter in private.
Jack frowned. “I wonder what it says? I hope it’s something nice. If Dad was as cruel to her in the letter as he was the night he died—”
“Reginald wouldn’t do that,” Nikki insisted.
Elizabeth reappeared a few minutes later. The girls fluttered around her in a flurry of questions and concern. She spoke at some length before excusing herself and heading in their direction, her eyes fixed on Jack.
“Oh, man.” He waited, grim-faced, prepared to take whatever Elizabeth planned to dish out.
To his shock, she dished out a tight hug and a lingering kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” she told him, her voice choked with tears.
Over her shoulder Jack caught a glimpse of Alan who stared at the embrace in stunned disbelief—disbelief that rapidly transitioned to outrage. He’d been so pleased by his own welcome into the Kincaid fold, quick to rub his open-ended Sunday dinner invitation in Jack’s face. Alan had been even more pleased by the Kincaids open dislike of Jack and took every opportunity to mention it. No doubt this mending of the familial breech both shook and infuriated him.
Elizabeth started speaking and he transferred his attention to her, sliding the problem of his half brother to the back burner. “You have no idea how much this means to me. The fact that you’re the one who i
nsisted there had to be a letter…” She shook her head. “Oh, Jack. I was so certain Reginald had deliberately slighted me. Instead, he accepted full responsibility for his actions. He said just what you told me, that he’d been fortunate enough to love two women in his life and that he’d never meant to hurt me the way he had.”
“I’m glad I could help.” It was the only thing he could think to say. Apparently, it was the right thing.
She smiled. “You’re very much like him, you know. Only you have a sense of integrity and honor that he sometimes lacked.” She caught his hand in hers and gave it a tug. “Come over and join us. Get to know your sisters.”
“They’re not… I’d rather—” He shot Nikki a glance that clearly said “get me the hell out of this.” Instead of getting him the hell out, she threw him to the wolf in sheep’s clothing.
“Go on, Jack,” Nikki encouraged. “It’s long overdue.”
“Yes, I insist.” A thread of wolfish steel underscored Elizabeth’s words.
Left without any other choice, he followed in her wake. He snagged Nikki’s arm when she hung back. “If I’m going down, you’re going down with me,” he informed her in a bitter undertone.
Laurel, Kara and Lily stood in a row, oldest to youngest, and looked like lovely flowers in their bridesmaid dresses. Though they’d all met before, Elizabeth introduced each in turn. Laurel was the image of her mother, with auburn hair and flashing green eyes, her coloring enhanced by her buttercup-yellow dress. Kara, the shortest of the three, wore an emerald-green that brought out a hint of bronze in her brown hair and blended nicely with her eyes. Someone had mentioned that she ran Prestige Events and had organized Matt and Susannah’s wedding as her gift to them. Finally he turned his attention to Lily, a more vivacious version of her oldest sister with golden-red hair that curled down her back. She was clearly the outgoing one of the group as well as being in the final stages of pregnancy. A children’s book illustrator, he vaguely recalled. Her dress matched her blue eyes and cascaded over her baby bulge.