“Just like his uncle,” Bryce sneered.
She could hear the tension in his voice. She didn’t have to look to know Bryce’s face was grim, his lips pulled into a thin line. Eryn knew only too well what lay beneath that look. He was battling for control. He had always been jealous throughout high school and college, making sure no boy, especially the extremely attractive ones, got near her.
She looked back at Troy. He grinned and raised his bottle in a salute.
She didn’t mind so much when Bryce not so gently pushed her ahead of him inside the house.
Chapter 6
The last of the sun’s rays reached across the waters, skimmed the top of the castle walls, and forced their way through the open window where Catherine sat atop silk pillows, tucked within the window seat.
She leaned against the wooden shutters with the circlet on her lap, and watched the jewels spark to life in the sun. The gems, their colors deep and brilliant, and the sun’s rays, still warm and strong, sought one another and touched in an intimate and seductive way. To Catherine, the duet between the gems and sun was an allegory for love, of belonging to one another. She flushed as thoughts of Jonathan crowded into her mind unbidden.
Turning her face to the setting sun, she tried to imagine what he would be doing at that moment. Would one of the ever-present women around him find her way into his arms this night? A sigh feathered away a tendril of hair that had loosened itself and fallen across her eyes. Oh, what difference did it make, she thought. Whatever it was that she felt, whatever it was that she saw in his eyes, mattered not. Their worlds are far apart - he a merchant on the seas and she the Lady of Elderidge. Their stations alone placed an insurmountable barrier between them. He would set sail two days hence and her life would continue as if their paths had never crossed. She would go on with her life, go on with Galen, and she would more likely than not forget about Jonathan altogether, as surely as he would forget about her.
She picked up the circlet and hesitated a moment before rising to put it away. Catherine yearned to wear it tonight, but was not prepared to answer the questions it would evoke, so she put the circlet carefully in its pouch and tucked it away on the bottom of her trunk. Taking out the black velvet bag that Galen had given her, Catherine emptied its contents into her hand. The brooch weighed heavy against her palm. The sapphire’s deep vibrant blue stared back at her, solid and brooding. It was worlds apart from the lightweight and colorful circlet from Jonathan. Catherine smiled wryly at the difference. How befitting that the two gifts should be such a contrast, for each man was as different as the gifts they gave. Night and day. Black and white. Galen was the moon. Jonathan carried the sun.
Deep inside her, something stirred, reaching for the light.
No! Her fisted hand pressed against her mouth. It would not be wise to encourage such feelings! She pushed that emerging self back into the shadows, and resolutely turned her mind from it. Slowly unclenching her hands, she saw the brooch had bitten into her palm, leaving a crescent line of scarlet, a stark reminder of to whom she belonged.
Resolutely she fastened the brooch on her bodice, smoothed her dress and took a deep breath. With one last look over her shoulder at the fading sunlight, she prepared herself for the evening ahead.
≈
Catherine stood at the entrance to the great hall and took in all that had been done. Large tapestries hung from the walls and fresh rushes had been strewn across the floor in preparation for the feast tonight. Two dozen places had been set on long tables that would soon be laden with beef, fish, wine, and ale. An intimate party, to be sure, reserved for Lord Oakley and his entourage.
Catherine grimaced at the thought of Lord Oakley, the neighboring landowner that reminded her of a leering rodent. Why her father chose to keep his company, she did not know. Perhaps their love of hawking was the thread that bound them. Catherine shuddered. She despised the man and his relentless advances, but as he was a guest in her home, she would be expected to endure his company tonight without complaint.
The guests had arrived sometime earlier, first being shown to their chambers to rest after their journey. To her relief, Lord Oakley had not yet come down. She relaxed a little as she watched the servants light the candles on the tables and stoke the fire, bringing it to its full force within the hearth.
“As always, you look radiant.”
A chill ran along the length of her body as the fetid breath of Lord Oakley blanketed her neck. She stepped sideways and turned to face her father’s guest, keeping a fair distance between them. His attempt to be charming made her skin crawl.
Close-cropped hair revealed the ugly scars of battle, scars he wore as trophies of his survival and power. His lopsided smile could not hide the coldness of his eyes, like a hunter surveying his prey.
Catherine made no effort to hide her disdain. “Lord Oakley, you humble us with your visit. To what do we owe this honor?” Her lips curled with the words.
Stepping closer, Lord Oakley reached out to stroke her cheek. His calloused fingers chafed her as he brushed them across her skin. Though the touch was meant to be gentle, she could feel a controlled violence vibrating underneath the surface. Catherine stiffened under his touch and backed a small step away.
He let his hand drop to his side. “Such beauty you possess, Catherine.” His small, dark eyes raked lewdly down her body as his tongue licked his thin, shiny lips. “In answer to your question, I am here at the invitation of your father.” Looking at the tables in the hall, he said, “As always, your hospitality is most welcome.” He stepped closer and took hold of her hand. “I wish to discuss a matter with you, Catherine, if we might have a moment alone this evening.”
“Catherine, I believe your presence is needed in the kitchen.” Galen’s broad shoulders, twice the size of Lord Oakley’s, filled the doorway. He drew himself up to his full height, his feet firmly planted, with arms folded, drawing his tunic tight across the muscles of his chest.
Lord Oakley’s slight build straightened at the dangerous tone of Galen’s voice.
Catherine wasted no time pushing past Lord Oakley, and with a grateful glance at Galen, left the hall.
“Again, your timing is impeccable, Sir Galen.” Lord Oakley turned slowly to meet his foe. Not nearly as tall as Galen, he stood with an arrogance that almost made up for his size.
“Your business here is with Lord Roberts, not Lady Catherine,” gritted Galen.
Surveying his competition, Lord Oakley chose his words carefully. “Catherine is a woman of free will. Unless she has pledged her heart to you…?” Taking pleasure in the tightening of Galen’s jaw, he continued. “So, Catherine has yet to make her choice, has she?” His words dripped malevolence. “Do you not realize, Sir Galen, that you cannot hold onto that which is not yours?”
Lord Oakley’s words had found their mark.
With dangerous calmness and his steel-colored eyes growing dark, Galen answered, the threat implicit. “You will tend to your business here and stay away from Lady Catherine.”
Sensing the danger, Lord Oakley shrugged. “If you will excuse me then, I shall see to my hawks before we dine.” He studied Galen, who stood unmoving before him, and smiled, his face contorting with a twisted grin. “Should the fair lady be seeking me…”
At Galen’s sudden advancement, Lord Oakley’s hands flew up in defense as he darted just beyond the other man’s reach and ran out of the hall.
Slowly, Galen let his breath out, unclenched his fists, and released the tightness of his muscles. The man was despicable. Lord Oakley preyed upon his victims’ weaknesses, and like a viper, he had struck at Galen’s very heart with his words.
Galen ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. It was all too true. Catherine has not yet pledged her love to him. He felt he knew her reasons, and thought that she just needed time. Time he was willing to give. For him, there was no other woman. Even as a young boy, he knew she would someday be his wife. He has spent his life protecting her, b
eing her strength and her companion. Yes, he would wait…a lifetime if he had to.
Chapter 7
The hot rays of the sun soaked into Eryn’s skin, melting away the effects of last night’s party...and what had happened afterwards. Bryce had made love to her last night and though he had been passionate, it had been far from fulfilling for her. His lovemaking had been over-laid with possessiveness, as if he was reclaiming his territory. And Eryn knew why. Troy had dared to challenge Bryce and she had been caught in the swirling vortex of testosterone. She knew, though, that it had more to do with Bryce’s damn pride than with her actions. He could never stand the thought of another man even thinking he had a chance with her, let alone show open interest, like Troy did. All six feet four inches of Bryce’s muscular frame was usually enough to put them off. But there was Troy, shorter by three or four inches, daring to taunt him.
“I didn’t get much sleep last night.” Brandi, who was lying in the lounge chair next to her, broke into her thoughts. “That Dylan is an animal!”
Eryn winced. Brandi was much too accommodating for her own good. “Busy taking care of his wounded heart, eh?”
“I wouldn’t talk, girlfriend. I saw you cozying up to that good-looking guy.”
Was everyone watching them last night? “Oh, pu-leeze,” Eryn grumbled. “I wasn’t getting cozy. We were just talking.”
“Uh-huh.” Brandi wasn’t buying it.
“Really,” Eryn said. “It was totally innocent.”
Brandi groaned. “It’s always been so easy for you. Men just flock to you and you dismiss them like it’s nothing. I, on the other hand, usually get the leftovers.”
“What are you talking about?” Eryn asked. “Dylan is a real catch.” She started counting on her fingers. “He’s good looking, single, and if you didn’t know, very wealthy.”
“Yeah, well, the jury is still out on him being a catch. Hey, who was that guy you were with, anyway?”
Before Eryn could answer, a shadow moved over her and instantly cooled her baking body. “Hey, who’s in my sun?” Shielding her eyes, she squinted up at Bryce.
He stood above her, his cool gaze sliding down the length of her body. If he had any lingering passionate thoughts from last night, his expression certainly didn’t show it.
“I’m going to play golf with a client. Need anything while I’m in town?”
She was disappointed, but what was she expecting? Roses the morning after? “No thanks.” She settled back on the chair. “I’ve got to head down that way later anyway. Got a call for a photo shoot today.”
“Really.” He challenged. “With who?”
Eryn frowned, peering at him through her lashes. It sounded like he didn’t believe her. “Troy. You know, Carl’s nephew,” she said matter-of-factly. “He wants some shots for his portfolio.”
The tension shooting off Bryce was palpable.
“Wow,” said Brandi. “Innocent, huh?”
Eryn shot her a look that had Brandi back-peddling. “Sorry.”
“You think that’s what he really wants?” Bryce gritted.
“Careful, Bryce, I might think you’re actually jealous,” Eryn dared to peek at him, hoping he was smiling, but his jaw only tightened. “Oh, come on! Is it so hard to believe that the man actually might want a good photographer? Isn’t that what these parties are all about? Networking?”
“She’s got a point there.” Brandi piped in.
Bryce ignored her as he continued to stare at Eryn. “At least tell me where you’ll be.”
She shielded her eyes and looked at him again. His eyes challenged her, serious and penetrating. His face was like a fortress. She couldn’t tell what was going on behind it, but the way he stood over her was protective and possessive. It was sexy and yet at the same time extremely annoying. Maybe he did care after all, she thought, but he had a hell of a way of showing it.
Eryn finally answered him. “I’m meeting him over by the tide pools at four o’clock.” She could almost hear the mental math playing out in his head, calculating how far along in his game he would be by the time four o’clock rolled around.
“Just be careful.” He stopped himself just as he was turning. “Oh yeah.” He tossed a small manila envelope onto her chair. “This came for you.”
“What is it?” Eryn picked up the envelope and shielded her eyes as she read the handwriting on the front.
Not bothering to answer, Bryce turned and walked away.
Eryn forgot the envelope for a moment as she watched him walk back to the house. She wanted to crawl into his head and poke around in there. What was it that kept him so far away from her? Last night his hands roamed her body as if making sure she was still all there, that his property was still intact, and when he drove himself into her, his eyes were closed, lost in his thoughts, a place she could never follow.
“That is one good looking man,” Brandi said under her breath.
Eryn shot her a sidelong stare.
“What?” Brandi shot back. “Well, it’s true! God, I remember in high school how every girl just flocked to him.” She closed her eyes and lay back. “They all had crushes on him, but you were the only one he would look at. Now here you are, married to him, with a house, career. Like a damn fairy tale.”
It was true. Almost. “Not quite like a fairy tale,” Eryn muttered.
“More trouble in paradise?”
Eryn thought about it for a moment. “I don’t know. It always seem like he’s blaming me for something. He kind of keeps his distance, but never completely pushes me away.” She sat up straighter in her chair and stared at the sun bouncing on the surface of the pool.
“Well, it can’t be that bad. I mean, look at all the shit he buys you. You gotta love that,” said Brandi.
“Maybe that’s part of the problem. He confuses all that stuff with affection.”
“Well, I’ll be more than happy to take some of it off your hands if you don’t appreciate it,” Brandi said, putting out her hand.
Eryn laughed and slapped her friend’s outstretched palm. “I might just do that.” She picked up the envelope again and recognized her brother’s rushed handwriting. She flipped it over, looking for a return address. “Typical,” she muttered.
“What’s typical?” Brandi tipped her face higher into the glaring sun.
Eryn carefully ripped open the top of the envelope, not sure what to expect. “Oh, James is never in one place long enough to bother telling me where he is.” She peered inside. “He usually sends legal papers for me to take care of for him.” She sighed. “I wish he would stop traveling long enough to visit once in awhile.”
She pulled out a wad of paper that apparently was supposed to pass for wrapping paper. Pulling back the edges, she uncovered a scribbled note on top of a stone pendant engraved with three spirals, hung on a thin, black cord. She studied the round, nickel-sized ornament, wondering what possessed her brother to send it to her. Even more surprising was that he had taken the time to write a note. “Eryn - Was in England this past month. Cornwall in particular. Found this. Thought you might like it. - James.”
“Now that’s a first.” He never acknowledged her birthday, let alone sends her gifts. “I wonder why he did that?”
“What?” Brandi asked.
“He actually sent me a souvenir.” She flipped over a small card attached to the string and read the description. “It says the symbol is a triskele, a triple spiral. It represents the sun, the afterlife, and reincarnation. The one continuous line represents continuous movement of the universe within eternity.” Eryn dangled the stone in front of her, her brow creased in thought. “I’ve seen this symbol before. I just can’t remember where.”
Eryn put the smooth stone in her palm and traced the lines of the interlocking spirals with her finger. “Hmm. From Cornwall of all places.” She liked the sound of that.
Cornwall, England. When she was young she wanted to be a princess and live in a castle, a big white fortress with looming towers
that brandished flags bearing her family’s colors. She imagined walking in the gardens, dreaming of her knight in shining armor, who would sweep her onto his horse and protect her with his shining sword. The memory made her smile. What little girl didn’t dream of her knight? She carefully wound the cord around the pendant and put it back in its envelope.
Placing the package beside her, she swung her legs over the side of the lounge chair. The water looked too good to pass up. Looking at Brandi out of the corner of her eye, she got up quickly and jumped into the pool, hooting as she folded her legs into a perfect cannonball, splashing Brandi thoroughly. It felt good to cut loose, something she didn’t do too often.
The cool water slid past her skin, slowing her drift to the bottom, dropping her down into the hushed silence. The sun’s rays penetrated through the ceiling of the watery space, illuminating the floor of the pool with dancing lights. Crouching low, she pushed off the bottom to the surface.
Brandi was sitting up now, drying herself off, a scowl on her face.
Eryn laughed. “Aw, live a little. You’re like Bryce. Too serious.” She swam to the edge of the pool and climbed out, then grabbed a towel and patted her skin dry. “I’ve got to get my stuff together for the shoot.”
Brandi looked over at Eryn, scowl still set. “God, you’re so skinny.” She looked at her own waist. “I’m still working on these love handles here.” She pinched some skin between her fingers.
“You’re kidding, right?” Eryn asked incredulous. “If you lose any more weight, you’ll be a poster child for anorexia.”
Brandi dismissed Eryn’s reaction. “It’s the way of the world, girlfriend. Gotta do what it takes to get ahead.”
It was hard for Eryn not to worry about Brandi. She was like a sister to her. Over the years she had watched Brandi nearly break in her efforts to bend to the demands of the fickle Hollywood scene. She jumped from man to man, molding herself to be what they wanted, and when they tired of her, Eryn was there to pick up the pieces.
Again Page 5