“Welcome to River Run, Mr. and Mrs. Adams. I’m pleased you were able to join the Leary party. It might be a few moments before your accommodations are prepared, so please won’t you accept a light lunch in the kitchen?”
“Aaah, Mr. Connor, I presume. I appreciate your quick acknowledgement to our request for a room. I’m house hunting in the area and when John and Linda invited me and the missus to join them, it was an opportunity I didn’t dare pass.”
Stone didn’t miss the covert glances Seamus kept directing at Emma. He focused inward, ignoring the chaotic swell of emotion, and centered himself in a void of nothingness. Because from emptiness came the ability to see the enemy, know the enemy, become the enemy.
Stone leaned forward and grasped the outstretched hand of the man currently headlining his soon-to-be-dead list.
***
Emma hustled in the babbling crowd of tourists. She remained distantly professional to everyone, answering questions, and directing them to their rooms. The Adams’ stayed with Stone while their suite was being prepared.
She felt raw, exposed and vulnerable.
The moment Adams’ pale blue eyes met her face, she’d known the future. The man’s thick Irish brogue sparked memories. He’d not spoken to her as if he knew. But no words were necessary…his presence made his point.
Her identity was no longer a secret.
Inhaling and straightening her shoulders, she walked into the kitchen. The familiar scent of fresh brewed coffee and home baked bread steadied her. Convincing herself the Adams’ were nothing more than another couple looking for an exciting vacation, she plastered a smile on her face. “What can I get for you folks?”
Stone glanced over and nodded.
“Emma, would you mind checking on the itinerary for tomorrow and confirming the times are all correct?”
She opened her mouth to inform Mr. Resort-know-it-all that she’d completed that task three days ago but quickly realized this would be a perfect opportunity to escape and avoid any further contact with Seamus Adams. Stone’s plan.
“Of course, Mr. Connor. I’ll do it right away.” She suppressed the urge to curtsy and make a face at Stone and quickly exited the kitchen.
By the time she reached the office, her hands were shaking uncontrollably. She dropped into the worn leather chair and inhaled sharply. Stone arrived before she’d been provided an opportunity to collect herself.
“You okay?”
“Yes,” she nodded. “No,” she recanted.
Stone kneeled in front of her chair and rubbed her arms. She sighed and tried to allow the comfort he offered to seep in. He stared into her eyes. “You did great.”
Emma bit back a whimper as Stone stood and sat on the edge of the desk. His touch helped, but she wasn’t about to ask him to hold her.
“I did some further cross checking and you’d be amazed at the horrible antics Seamus Adams has been participating in. It simply stuns me this man’s succeeded in politics. Then again, I’m also a sucker for good guys winning. It appears Seamus’ perfected the role of the devil-in-disguise.”
“I’m not surprised. Do you have a plan?”
He shook his head. “It’s in the works. But, I’ll tell you one thing, no one takes what’s mine. Too many lives have been lost that way.”
Stone turned and left the office. His words were confusing, his actions mystifying.
She didn’t know what to think, but despite all the fear and insecurities twining themselves around her heart, it skipped a little beat, leaping up toward a sunbeam of hope.
No one takes what’s mine.
***
Stone shut the door that separated the main part of River Run with Emma’s private quarters. The grandfather clock peeled twelve times, stroking in the witching hour. He’d finished his nightly security check, verifying all guests were accounted for and no strangers lurked within the gates of River Run.
Peering into the bedroom, he confirmed Emma slept.
She lay sprawled upon the top of her covers, still dressed in jeans and River Run shirt. A notepad lay open next to her outstretched arm. Somewhere in the back of his mind he wondered what she’d been doing, but the silky river of red hair caught his breath and held him captive.
If ever a fairy were to grace reality, she’d be Emma’s twin. Long lashes rested against her cheek, making Stone’s fingers itch. He longed to hold her, feel her heart beat wildly against his. But no matter what his inflamed senses demanded, he couldn’t relinquish control.
He’d not shirk his responsibilities, though. If it took his last gasp of air, he’d see Seamus Adams dead.
Stone stepped back from the bedroom and entered the office. Walking around the desk, he sat in the worn leather chair. Emma’s jasmine perfume wafted from the shadows. He closed his eyes and brought forth the memory of that night in his room. The tender kiss and burning desire quickly faded beneath his more memorable vile display of bitterness.
Stone picked up the phone and dialed a number he’d sworn never to use again.
Chapter Seven
Guns? Her mind couldn’t comprehend what she saw.
Emma stared at the array of weapons neatly arranged within the center of her bedroom, the dark gray and black metal a stark contrast against her cream flokati rug and cucumber walls.
“What’re you doing?”
“Preparing,” Stone said. He sat crossed legged next to the weapons. The ammunition lay on her bed as he cleaned and dissected the gun in his hand, his movements deft and precise. The clicking and snapping echoed ominously within the tight space.
“For what? An invasion of prairie dogs?”
Stone laid his current weapon aside and looked at her. He shook his head slowly, picked up a small handgun and held it out for her to take. “No. An invasion of leprechauns.”
“You can’t be serious? Seamus Adams isn’t going to risk his political career and kill me smack in the middle of my own home.” She ignored the proffered weapon and walked to her bed. Pushing the boxes of bullets out of her way, she sat and studied the man before her. “I’m not even certain he knows who I am.”
“He knows.” His focused expression punctuated the threat. “I’ve done some checking into Mr. Adams, and he doesn’t ever do anything without an ulterior motive. In case he chooses the stupid path, I want to be prepared.”
“Stone,” she said, trying to absorb everything. “This is crazy. He’s been here for almost a week and hasn’t made any move against me. If anything, the Adams seem more concerned with sightseeing and house hunting than the goings on of River Run.”
“You hate him here.” Turning back to the weapons, he checked the next chamber.
“It doesn’t mean I want to stoop to his level and kill him. What good would that do?”
Stone glanced up and tossed her an incredulous look. “Set you free.”
Emma didn’t know what to say. His eyes deepened in color, and she glimpsed an emotion he desperately tried to hide. She dropped to her knees and knelt beside him. Lifting her hand, Emma touched his shoulder. “Not this way. I don’t want to be set free this way.”
He stilled beneath her caress but didn’t push away. “Don’t you want revenge?”
“No.”
She stared into the depths of his eyes, a warmth replacing his normally impenetrable wall. He reached up and pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers grazing her skin. Holding her breath, Emma resisted the urge to lean closer. He’d never touched her like this before, with tenderness washing away the steel.
Last night surrounded by his presence, suffocated by his masculinity made walking on hot coals a preferable option. She hadn’t crawled beneath her covers in four nights afraid the intimacy would be too much to resist. Stone never said a word. They’d rested side by side, fully clothed, never touching.
She was exhausted both physically and emotionally. Breaking contact, Emma sat down and crossed her legs. Stone appeared relieved.
“Revenge,” Emma
said, “is not the answer.”
“Then what do you suggest?”
“I suggest we get our acts together and serve dinner. Tilly’s almost done in the kitchen and the hour’s getting late.”
“How can you forget what that man’s done to your family?” Stone demanded, rising to his feet. He reached down and yanked her up. She glared into his face.
“How dare you? I haven’t forgotten. But I’ve accepted those memories, placed them where they need to be. Otherwise, the only thing I’d ever remember would be the blood running down my mother’s throat. I’d never be able to think of her without thinking of death. And that’s not acceptable. She gave me a love of life I’m forever grateful for. Her smile and selflessness are things I need to remember, have to remember. Otherwise, what good was it all? I loved my mother and my father.” Emma felt tears prick her eyes and swallowed past the lump in her throat. “But I won’t live in their death.”
“Why? It’s not so bad.” Stone responded, his voice flat and unemotional.
“You don’t get it, do you? I watch you fight to forget. I feel you toss and turn and attempt to block out whatever nightmares your mind has conjured. But it’s useless. Until you accept your memories, both good and bad, despair will win every time. You can’t make your past go away. So deal with it.”
Stone didn’t move. “All this psychobabble isn’t going to change me, so you might as well stay away.”
Emma widened her eyes in shock then stepped forward smacking her hand against his chest. “Don’t you dare run. I’m sick and tired of your unemotional, vacant stares. Your refusal to step into the world and participate.”
“Participate? You’re a fine one to toss in accusations about participating. In case you haven’t noticed, Ms. O’Malley, there’s an entire life beyond the gates of River Run.”
Her breath caught, and she tried not to let his words affect her. “You know why I stay close to home.”
“Yeah, I know. Hiding is a great excuse for not living.”
“Screw you! My life is this resort, and I live it with a greater passion than most people.” Emma stepped back, putting distance between herself and Stone. The truth of what he said stung.
“Passion?” Stone responded, averting his face and rubbing a hand across his eyes. He was tired. She didn’t care.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He glanced back and pierced her with a steely gaze. “Emma, your main concern is to take care of everyone else. Being so focused on righting other people’s wrongs, how could you possibly know desire?”
Her heart pounded. She couldn’t believe his attack and how very wrong his judgments were. Granted, Emma’s natural caretaking habits might appear to drown out her own dreams, but they didn’t. Did they? “ You’re a fine one to talk. We’ve been trapped here for months and this is the first time you’ve ever touched me.”
“Isn’t that what you want? This indifferent relationship that remains professional at all times. Or would it be better if I yelled at you and told you how you twist my stomach into knots every time you look at me? No,” Stone shook his head. “I don’t think so. You wear your crown of indifference too well.”
“I…” Emma didn’t know how to respond. How’d they get so far off topic? “Killing Seamus Adams is wrong. I’m not a killer.”
“But I am.”
“No.” She said softly. “You’re not a killer.”
He smiled bitterly and headed for the door. “Oh, but you’re wrong, Ms. O’Malley, that’s exactly who I am.” Stone stopped before leaving and turned to look at her. “Can you care for a man buried in blood?”
“No…” Before she could finish her sentence, he’d left. “But I think I can love you,” she whispered to the empty room.
***
Damn, that woman drove him crazy. He swore again as he speared another mountain of dung. It hadn’t taken him long to discover the advantages of mucking stalls and cleaning the barn. No wonder Emma spent half her day out here. The animals never talked back. They listened in rapt attention and every once in a while bestowed you with unconditional love and affection.
“Porkey, your mistress has gone too far this time. She needs to mind her own business.”
The pig grunted and continued rooting around the stall.
“Can you believe I almost spilled my guts? Told her how I feel? What’s the matter with me?” His stomach churned. She’d seen right through him, right into his core, and he hadn’t liked it one bit.
Another stack of manure tossed into the wheelbarrow. At this rate, he’d be done with barn duties half an hour ahead of schedule. Stopping, Stone braced himself against the pitchfork. He looked at the pig. She’d halted her nosing about and actually sat gazing at him in interest.
“What?”
Porky snorted, green slime covering her snout.
“That’s just plain disgusting.” Stone stepped forward and wiped his sleeve against the offending gunk. “You’re much prettier without that stuff.”
He swore she smiled. Shaking his head, he tossed the pitch fork on top of the wheelbarrow and exited the stall. All there was left to do was add more hay, fill the grain buckets and bring the horses in for the night. Not enough chores to avoid Emma for the rest of the evening.
He didn’t want to face her. For the first time in over two years, Stone felt an inner pulse, felt a desire to breathe. She’d woken him from his self-imposed exodus. But for what purpose? Even if there could be a slight chance of her caring, he couldn’t look beyond her affection for his father.
It’d never work.
No. He’d stick to his game plan. Eliminate Seamus Adams, sell River Run, and get the hell outta Dodge.
Away from his father, away from Emma, away from the lure of life.
Dumping the contents of the wheelbarrow out back in the compost pile, Stone tried hard not to chuckle at the antics of Rhett and Scarlett. The pygmy goats were the silliest excuse for an animal he’d ever seen. Entertaining, but silly. He leaned against the paddock fence and whistled for the three retired Cutter horses Emma adopted.
This place resembled a zoo rather than a resort. He led the first horse into the barn and froze as a shadow stretched from the opposite end.
“Interesting choice of duties, Mr. Connor.” Stone immediately recognized the gravely voice.
“Mr. Adams, can I help you?” He pushed the horse between himself and the Irishman, swearing silently at his lack of weapons.
Opening the stall door, Stone released the Cutter. He turned and faced Seamus Adams. The man stood about five inches shorter than Stone and carried the paunch of a well-fed, pub-hopping father of three. Physically, he wasn’t a threat.
“You don’t like me much, do you?”
“I’m afraid I don’t really know you, Mr. Adams. However, if you feel we’ve been less than hospitable, I’ll speak with the staff.”
Seamus waved his hand and shook his head. “I thought I might take the opportunity to explain that although I’m a politician, I’m an honest man.”
“Your political views are no concern of mine.” Stone eyed Pocahontas. She crept from the back of the barn, her teeth barred, and a low growl rumbling in her massive chest. “However, it appears my pig’s got a different opinion. If you’ll excuse me while I put her away for the night.” He shuffled the round body down the barn and into her pen, placating her with soft words. Emma would skin him alive if anything happened to her best friend.
“Dangerous animal,” Adams said, stepping back out of the barn.
“No. But she’ll bite if you threaten her.” Stone followed the man outside and they walked together back to the house.
“I’m not here to threaten,” Seamus said.
“Well that’s a relief,” Stone said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. “Because I tend to bite as well.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
The two men entered River Run. Stone nodded to Seamus, then proceeded into Emma’s rooms. The aroma of baked
onions steeped in sherry indicated dinner was almost ready and hosting duties required.
He stepped into the bedroom. The urge to kick himself slammed into his gut, and he swore savagely. He’d left the guns laying everywhere. How could one woman rattle him enough to forget his responsibilities?
He noted that Emma had pushed the weapons aside and covered everything with a blanket. He swore again, grabbing his clothes from the inch of closet space he’d been allowed.
The bathroom light glowed beneath the door, and he leaned against the hall wall, waiting for Emma to finish. Thoughts of steamy air caressing her skin and streams of hot water flowing into places he longed to touch didn’t help in calming his temper.
She opened the door. His chest constricted, and he flinched at a longing impossible to deny.
***
Emma stepped into the hall, eyeing Stone warily. He looked furious.
“I didn’t use all the hot water,” she said.
“Thank you.” He wasn’t moving. She pulled the towel tighter around her body and scolded herself for not bringing a robe. A warm tingling spread slowly across her skin, and Emma knew it wasn’t an after effect of the scalding shower. Anger over the mess of guns and his disputatious attitude spurred her into leaving her room half-dressed.
“You’re welcome.” Scooting past him, Emma dove for the safety of her bedroom.
“Emma?”
She stopped, turning to face the keeper of her heart.
“Yes?”
“I didn’t mean what I said.” He fumbled with the wad of clothes clutched in his arms. “I don’t want you to stay away.”
Swallowing the lump in her throat, she nodded. Wincing, Emma wondered if he could hear her heart pounding. “I’m not indifferent.”
He didn’t say a word, but his eyes deepened and a slight smile touched his lips. After what felt like an eternity but probably only encompassed a few seconds, Stone stepped into the bathroom. Bathed in the yellow glow of the small fluorescent bulb, he cast one more soul searing gaze in her direction. “I’m not running.”
The Fifth Season Page 8