Stacey struggled to get her wrist away from him. “Let me go…”
“Word got ’round, darling, despite your parents’ best efforts. While you had already started dating me, you were fucking the gallery owner.” He’d bent her arm behind her back at such an awkward angle, she couldn’t move without injuring herself. She’d always known he had a temper, but she’d never seen it directed at her. “Accepting my proposal was just a way to stop the scandal after someone said they saw you inside a client’s house…”
“Stop it…you’re hurting me.”
“Jace.” Justin spoke quietly from the doorway. “Let her go. You’re not doing yourself or her any good.”
Her husband’s eyes lifted to stare at the man behind her. Never had Stacey imagined she would be grateful for Justin’s intrusion. Jace’s hold relaxed. She twisted free and moved several feet away from him, hands shaking so badly she could barely wipe the tears from beneath her eyes. Justin was there in front of her, a handkerchief in his hand. When she tried to take it from him, her hand trembled so much, he closed his fingers around hers.
“Let me,” he murmured. Stacey stared into his green irises as he blotted the tears from her face and tucked the handkerchief back in his pocket. “Let me see your wrist.”
He had it in his grasp before she could tell him no, and it hurt too much to pull away. “I’m fine.”
He looked back into her eyes. “You need ice on this. Get some ice in a bag, Jace. Do it now. You could use some cooling off too.” He glared at her husband. A moment later, she heard his footsteps as he left the room. “He loves you a lot, you know. You hurt him.”
“Nothing happened,” Stacey whispered. “And he hurt me.”
Justin shook his head, touching his fingers to her cheek. Stacey barely repressed the urge to pull away. “You should have told us yesterday you’d gone sailing with Hatch. The whole scene just now could have been prevented.”
Stacey eased her hand from his and stepped back. So now it was her fault? And what was with the us? What stake did Justin even have in this?
Jace returned, looking contrite, an ice bag and a towel in his hand. “I’m so sorry, darling,” he murmured as he handed it over. “There’s no excuse other than being worried about you with someone like Mason Hatch. I guess I don’t realize my own strength.”
She took the offered items from him and even murmured an acceptance of his apology, but in the back of her mind was the niggling thought there was no sincerity behind his words. He simply sounded like he’d rehearsed lines in a play. “If you two will excuse me, I’m going to go upstairs and lie down while I ice this.” She left the room and started up the steps, but realized halfway she’d forgotten her purse and briefcase. Slipping back down, she gathered them and turned to go back upstairs, pausing when she heard Justin speak.
“Jace, don’t be a fool. You’ll ruin everything you’re trying to do.”
“I don’t want her fucking other men.”
“Would it really be such a big deal?” Stacey nearly gasped when she heard Justin’s callous remark.
“Yes,” Jason bit out. “My family expects suitable grandchildren, not some bastards sired by a man who doesn’t even know who his parents are.”
“Then you’d better make sure you smooth things over, so you’ll have the opportunity to get her pregnant.”
Stacey had heard enough. She ran silently upstairs and into her sitting room to drop her purse and briefcase. So far there hadn’t been any opportunity to get her pregnant because she had yet to go off the pill, a fact she hadn’t yet told Jace. Acting on instinct, she opened her purse and transferred her birth control pills to her briefcase–something she had always kept locked so it wouldn’t open inadvertently and spill paint and color samples everywhere. As she snapped it shut again and spun the combination, she felt sick. Was this what her marriage had become? Had it reached the point where she was half-afraid of her husband and hiding birth control pills from him so she could continue to take them?
She stared at her reddened wrist as she put the ice back on it. No matter what she might have hoped, there were already major problems with her home life and her relationship with her husband. For an instant, she recalled her day on the bay with Mason. He hadn’t sniped at her, hadn’t belittled her abilities. He’d encouraged her, praised her and made her feel like she could do whatever she wanted.
Stacey slumped in a chair, resting her wrist on her leg. As she stared at the ice pack, her eyes clouded over. Was avoiding a scandal, trying to protect her family and Mason, worth this? She blinked the tears away and took a deep breath. Mason had built a thriving business that depended on word-of-mouth, as did hers. Barrett Newspapers could survive almost anything, behemoth that it was, but Phillip might be another matter. He was building a law practice, had political ambitions. There was so much more at stake than a few incriminating pictures and her reputation.
So how in the hell could she hide the bruise?
Chapter 5
Mason didn’t see Stacey until the middle of the week, and then only because he heard his assistant talking to a work-study student in the outer office.
“Something’s going on with her. She was showing a client some stoneware in the back gallery when a delivery guy came in and let the door slam. She jumped so much she would have dropped the plate she was holding if the client hadn’t caught it.”
His assistant’s tone was disbelieving. “Stacey Winchester? The ice-maiden?”
Mason closed the document he had open on his laptop and set his hands flat on his desk.
“Yes,” the young woman interning with them confirmed. “She was shaking so much she had to excuse herself. I followed her to the restroom because I thought she might be ill.” The girl’s voice lowered, but Mason could still hear her. “She was wiping her face with a paper towel, and on her wrist, she had this terrible bruise…”
He didn’t wait any longer. Mason slipped out the other door to his office, the one leading right out onto the landing overlooking the lobby below. Stacey stood there with the congresswoman’s assistant. As she concluded her business and shook hands, Mason stepped to the railing. “Mrs. Winchester?”
Stacey looked at him, her face pale and faint shadows below her eyes. “I was ready to leave. I have an appointment with another client.”
“Five minutes. That’s all I need. Stay there. We can talk in the fine art room.” He began moving even before he finished speaking because she looked like she was preparing to bolt. As he reached her side, he put a hand to the small of her back and half-guided, half-pushed her toward the room, shutting the door behind them unceremoniously.
“Mason,” she protested. “What the hell are you doing? I need to leave.”
“Show me your wrist.”
She eased one hand away from him. “I don’t have to…”
“Show me your wrist, damn it!”
She made a face as if she didn’t have time for his antics, but he saw the fine tremor in her hand as she held the wrist in such a way it was still half hidden. “I tripped on board my boat Sunday and hit it. It’s nothing.”
He grasped her coat sleeve and pulled back the material. “Try a different lie, Stacey. That bruise encircles your whole wrist. It didn’t come from a fall.”
She snatched it away from him, and when she failed, glared him right in the eye. Tilting her chin she said, “Where it came from is none of your business. You’re neither my husband nor my lover, so you have no right. Now, please, let me go.”
Mason felt his blood boil, but seeing the purple marks on her delicate skin, he swallowed his temper. Chances were she’d already been frightened enough. After releasing her wrist, he jammed his hands in his pockets. “I apologize. You’re right. It’s not my place, but Stacey, if you need help…”
“I don’t,” she bit out. “Excuse me. I’m going to be late.” She brushed past him, dressed in a classically tailored suit, not a hair out of place–every inch the society lady she was, except f
or the bruise on her wrist.
Mason stared after her, his eyes lingering on the entry even after she was gone. He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket. It was tempting to call Lucy, who he knew would answer when she saw it was him, but he hadn’t yet become so desperate he would interrupt a woman on her honeymoon, even if he had the feeling the groom would forgive him since it concerned his sister. No, during his years on the street, Mason had made friends in all sorts of unusual places.
“Detective Jones, please.” Mason didn’t have to wait long before the line was answered.
“Jones.”
“It’s Mason. I need some help.”
“Anything you want. I owe you.”
“You quit owing me a long time ago, but I can use a favor.” He went on to describe what was going on. “Look, I need someone extremely discreet. These are some high-powered families we’re talking about, and nothing needs to get out unless Stacey wants it to.”
“Call John Smith.”
“Right. Next you’re going to tell me Smith is the guy’s real name.”
“It is. I’ll text you his number when we’re done. If anyone can find out what you need to know, he can.”
“Thanks, dude.”
“Like I said. I owe you.”
Now all he would have to do was sit back and be patient, but patience had never been one of his strong suits. He would find a way to get her out, make her see what was happening. To get his mind off Stacey, Mason jogged back to his office and poured himself into his work. He had a couple of artists he was courting, and he was taking a look at more paintings than he had in the past. Although he would still keep his bread and butter in three-dimensional art, he had a lot of clients in the market for paintings to help decorate. It only made sense to be able to supply them himself instead of outsourcing to other galleries.
* * * *
Jason had been going overboard trying to make up. When she arrived home, another florist’s box awaited her on the side table in the front hall. Stacey looked at it with near trepidation. She wasn’t ready to simply forget what had happened even if he and Justin were treating her like a queen. Justin had taken her to lunch, then Jace had called late in the afternoon to see if she would be amenable to a quiet dinner, just the two of them.
She agreed. For one thing, it must mean Justin was going to make himself scarce. Maybe if it was only her and Jace, they could really talk, really work some things out. She stepped into the kitchen to see the cook and the housekeeper putting the finishing touches on dinner.
“Don’t you do a thing, Mrs. Winchester,” the housekeeper scolded. “Relax and get ready for dinner. We’ll have it ready to serve once Mr. Winchester gets here and we’ll leave you to it.”
Stacey was tempted to ask the housekeeper to stay, but not wanting to be alone with her husband would seem strange. Besides, she knew the woman had a husband of her own she no doubt wanted to get home to, so Stacey stayed silent, simply smiling vaguely before she carried her briefcase and purse upstairs. Before she stepped into the shower, she swallowed her birth control pill and carefully placed the container back in her briefcase. This was something she’d have to confess to Jace. Soon, just maybe not tonight.
She’d finished her shower and changed when she heard a knock on the door. Jace had brought her a glass of wine as he came upstairs, kissing her lightly on the forehead as he handed it to her.
“You know,” she murmured, “I should cut out the alcohol if we’re trying to get pregnant.”
He touched her cheek. “You don’t drink much, Stacey, and it helps us both relax.”
She smoothed a hand over her still-sleek hair. “Jace, I have a favor to ask.”
“What’s that?”
“When…I mean if…we make love tonight, could you…could we do it facing each other?”
He looked uncomfortable. In fact, she would swear he looked pale. “You don’t like our lovemaking?”
Oh God, she hadn’t meant it as a slight to his prowess as a lover, and she certainly didn’t want to make him mad. She smiled at him. “Never mind… I’m being silly.”
He smiled and held out his hand. “Come. Let’s eat.”
Jace kept her wine glass filled throughout dinner, then afterward handed her a glass of sherry before sipping on his brandy.
“This was lovely, Jace,” she murmured as they headed upstairs. “You know I don’t mind Justin staying with us, but it is nice to have some private time.”
He led her into their bedroom. “I have an idea how we can use our private time.”
To be fair, he attempted to keep things face to face, even spending more time than usual caressing her, but at the last moment, he turned her and entered her from behind. Stacey didn’t protest. She’d had enough wine, she was feeling a bit too relaxed. Once he’d finished and pulled out, she simply stretched out and fell asleep. Sometime in the middle of the night, he woke her, again pulling her bottom to him. She started to turn her head, but he held her in place with one hand while he thrust deeply into her, his movements almost angry as he pushed toward orgasm.
“Jace?”
“Shh, darling,” his voice came from somewhere above her. “Go back to sleep.” She felt the bed shift and realized he must have risen. She should say something to him. He’d never taken her twice in one night before, not even on their wedding night, but the thought was lost as she slipped back into sleep.
The next morning, she found bruises on her hips. Stacey touched the small bluish marks, wondering if she should say something to him about being a bit gentler. He was sitting at the breakfast table with Justin when she came downstairs.
“Oh, darling,” Jace said with a smile. “I’m glad I caught you before you left. I thought with this weekend being your birthday we could go to the beach house, spend the weekend there and celebrate.”
“That sounds marvelous, Jace.” She turned and smiled at Justin. “I spoke with your contractor yesterday. They should finish by the end of this week. Did you want me to go ahead and hire a painting crew to do the colors we discussed?”
“Yes. I see no reason to hold off.”
She smiled, feeling more confident discussing her area of expertise. “Who knows, maybe we can get you moved in before fall.”
* * * *
Justin waited until the door shut behind Stacey before he spoke. “Don’t ask me to do it again, Jace. It’s not right. I told you I would do anything to help you, but I have to draw the line at what happened last night.”
“It would be so much simpler.”
“For whom? For Stacey? Jesus, Jace. That was rape! I won’t do it again. Is it supposed to be simpler for me? I have no interest in sex with a woman. I’m out of the closet back home. I want you to come with me. I want us to have a relationship. And if you think it’s simpler for you, you’re fooling yourself. If you insist on living this lie, I will agree to help, but only under certain conditions.”
Justin looked almost frightened as he asked. “And what are those?”
“She must be aware of your fertility issues and agree to have me as a sperm donor.”
“Okay. I can live with that.”
“And she needs to know about us.”
“Justin, let’s not rush into this.”
“We’ve been lovers for more than ten years. There is no rush.”
Jace’s hand shook slightly as he sipped from his coffee cup then set it aside. “We’ll take her to dinner Thursday evening. I’ll talk to her after.”
It wasn’t as soon as Justin would like, but it would do. He crossed to Jace’s side of the table and bent to give him a hug. “Come upstairs, Jace. We have time before we have to leave.”
Jace nodded, getting gracefully to his feet. Justin’s heart ached. Jason Winchester wasn’t an easy man to love, so hemmed in by his upbringing and his nearly paranoiac fear of admitting to the world he was gay. Nevertheless, Justin did love him. Somehow, he’d convince him to leave this behind, to come out to the ranch. Justin had his own pa
rcel of it and an older brother already busy creating little Worthington heirs, so the pressure to be anything other than who he was had never been an issue.
What he wouldn’t do was a repeat of last night. He burned with guilt even thinking about it. Stacey was a beautiful woman, and she deserved to be happy, but it would never be with Jace, if only he could make Jace see.
* * * *
Mason couldn’t help it. In a complete reversal from before, he was now trying to see Stacey every chance he could, and what he was seeing, he didn’t like. Already slender, she had lost weight she couldn’t afford to lose. Every now and then, he would catch an expression of weariness on her face when a client wasn’t looking at her, as if she weren’t sleeping well at night. Something was definitely different. Stacey loved her work, and as long as he’d known her she always brought an overabundance of energy to everything she did.
Thursday afternoon, his assistant poked her head in the door. “Mason, there’s a Mr. John Smith to see you.” Her tone clearly showed she didn’t quite believe the name. Big surprise, neither had he.
Mason stood. “Great. Show him in.”
The detective was as nondescript as his name. Not an ugly man by any means. In fact, he was handsome in an understated kind of way, but definitely not a man who would stand out in a crowd. Mason supposed that was exactly the quality a client would want in a good detective. He held out his hand, and Smith took it with a firm grasp.
“Mr. Hatch. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Call me Mason,” he responded and gestured to a chair. Rather than going back around his desk, he sat in the chair across from Smith. “I take it you have something to report since you’ve gone out of your way to see me personally.”
Smith nodded. “Yes, but I have a couple of questions I was hoping you might be able to help me with.”
“All right. I’ll try.”
“First let me tell you what I’ve discovered so far. You asked me to find out more on Justin Worthington. I can tell you, his family connections are legitimate. His parents have large land and cattle operations both in the western United States and Australia. He has an older brother whose primary responsibility is running the ranch out west. Worthington was indeed out of the country during the time of the Winchesters’ engagement and wedding. He has only recently returned. Right now, he’s working here in the capital, part of a cattlemen’s lobbying group.”
Broken Heart Page 6