Secrets Gone South (Crimson Romance)

by Pace, Alicia Hunter

  “I don’t know.” He smiled at her. “I can’t quite picture Lanie with a napkin on her head.”

  The light faded from her eyes. “I might take you up on that nap, if you don’t mind.”

  And she put her head back and closed her eyes without waiting for an answer.

  He sighed and shook his head. He’d meant well but he’d blundered. Arabelle had meant that Emma was like Carrie but Will, like everyone except Arabelle, thought of Lanie as the child’s mother.

  Maybe he was destined to make her sad, even when he didn’t mean to.

  • • •

  Right before she awoke, Arabelle dreamed she was on a roller coaster.

  “Sorry,” Will said as he navigated down the bumpy road. “We’re almost there.” He didn’t sound all that sure. Then he added, “I think.”

  She rubbed her eyes and looked around. Nothing but trees, a barely paved road, and gray, low hanging clouds. A glace at the dashboard told her it was after four o’clock.

  “You’re not taking me out to the wilds to kill me are you?” It was just something to say but a little fear went through her. Worse things had happened to better people.

  “Not the plan,” he said under his breath. “At least not today.” He was in deep concentration but not on what she had said. He was a man who was about to have to admit he was lost; they never liked that, would seldom own up to it.

  “Are we lost?” she asked just to test him.

  “Almost without a doubt,” he said pleasantly.

  “Didn’t you put the address in the GPS?” she asked.

  “Yes but we lost the satellite signal a while back.”

  “That’s never happened to me before.”

  “You probably haven’t been this far off the beaten path. But I have the directions hand written by none other than Senator Sanders Avery.” He waved a piece of paper in the air.

  “Should we turn back?”

  “Maybe.” He drove around a sharp curve. “I’m going to give it a few more miles. Then I’m going to Nashville and find us a Courtyard Marriott. Not too fancy but they have Wi-Fi. Plus, there’s free breakfast with those bagels and all. Can’t go wrong there.”

  Wi-Fi for a wedding night—just what every bride dreamed of. She wondered what he’d say if she asked if he planned to surf the web or surf her tonight. Not that she would ask. She had not worked through what her reaction would be.

  “Oh, wait!” Will said. “We might be on the right track after all.”

  Up ahead there was a fence with an open gate.

  “What does the sign say?” she asked.

  “Hmm. White Pines. Yep. That’s where we’re going. Well, no free newspaper for us.”

  “You don’t know that. They might give us one.”

  “What sort of place is this?” she asked. “No idea. Didn’t your mother tell you?”

  “Maybe. But she said so much. I assume it’s a plantation or maybe a Victorian house. Probably a plantation house way out here.”

  “Finally! A sign with some directions.” He made a right turn. “A couple of those would have been helpful earlier.”

  “I think I see it.” And she did. There was a sign that said, “Office. Check in here.”

  But it couldn’t be. This was no plantation house, or Victorian house either. It was more humble farmhouse than anything else. Or maybe cottage was a more accurate description. Though neat and cheerful, with red trim, shutters, and window boxes, there was no way the little house could have more than two bedrooms. Usually B&B owners lived there too.

  Will looked at her out of the corner of his eye. She could tell he was gauging her response.

  “Maybe we get the whole house,” she said. “Though even at that, it doesn’t seem my mother’s style at all. Or maybe there’s a guesthouse, though I don’t see another structure.”

  “Fancy is the last thing I need but this is not what I would have picked out for you.”

  That took her aback. That was the kindest he’d said to her in private since the big reveal. “It’s fine,” she said. After all, it hadn’t been a real wedding, wouldn’t be a real wedding night. Would it?

  “It’s not too late,” he said. “I say we get the hell out of here and go to Nashville. Get a good meal. I can even probably do a little better than a Courtyard Marriott.”

  And then he took her hand and squeezed it. Her stomach turned over, just like it had that night so long ago when Avery was conceived. He had touched her because he had wanted to. There was no one around to impress and she certainly hadn’t been expecting it.

  “Even better,” she said. “Let’s go home. We’d be there by eight o’clock. We can go get Avery. We can say we got lost and gave up.”

  Will frowned. He looked disappointed but tempted too. He hadn’t liked leaving their son any more than she had.

  Their son. That’s the first time she had let that phrase enter her mind. Will nodded and reached to put the car in reverse when the door of the cottage opened and out flew a petite woman who was about their age. She wore jeans, a down vest, hiking boots, and a bright smile. She ran up to the car clapping her hands as she went.

  So it was too late—too late for home, Nashville, and free breakfast bagels. Or maybe not too late for the bagels. This was a B&B, after all. There might be bagels.

  Will rolled his window down.

  “Oh, good! You’re here! Congratulations to you! I’m Kitty Riddle. The Senator and Mrs. Avery have already taken care of everything so you don’t even need to come in to do the paperwork. You can’t get your SUV down in the woods, of course, but you can park over there.” She pointed to a covered parking pad. “I’ll bring the golf cart around and take you and your luggage down. My husband has already been down to build a fire for you.”

  And she was off. Woods? Golf cart? Fire? None of that added up to anything good.

  “Will, I cannot camp! I hate camping. Did you know about this? It’s too cold. I don’t care if there is a campfire.”

  He looked as perplexed as she felt but he moved the car to the appointed spot.

  “Don’t do that! Let’s go. Like we talked about.”

  “No, let’s see what this is about. It’s probably a cabin of some kind. I promise you, if we get down there and there’s a tent set up, it’s the Marriott for us.”

  She was about to remind him that she didn’t want the Marriott, that she wanted home and her baby and her bed—maybe even with him in it, since he was being nice, and since that kiss. Not that she would have said that last part.

  Then Kitty sped up in her golf cart.

  “Stay put where it’s warm until I get the luggage squared away.”

  “Wait!” She grabbed his arm. “Let’s at least ask some questions.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders. “Arabelle, please. Let’s just go with it for now. I promise that you are not going to stay in some cold little hellhole. After we see where she’s taking us, if you don’t like it, we’ll go into Nashville.”

  “What about home?”

  He gave her a soulful look. “It might not be best if we went home eight hours after getting married.”

  She wondered if he meant best for the two of them or best for the façade they were putting forth. And was there any best for them?

  She looked up. Was that … ? No, it couldn’t be.

  “Will, it’s snowing!” Tennessee got more snow than Alabama. “We might get snowed in.” She loved snow, normally, but not when there was a chance it would keep her from her child.

  “We are not getting snowed in. I listened to the weather report. There’re going to be flurries tonight but it’s not going to get below freezing.”

  And then he smiled at her, smiled in that old way, like he used to smile at her and still smiled at everyone else. And this smile was all hers, not anyone else’s. It had to be. No one else could see them. Maybe this was going to get easier. Maybe they would make love tonight. Even if he was just being nice because he wanted to have sex, that w
as better than the open hostility.

  And besides, the sex would be terrific. No doubting that.

  “All right,” she agreed. It was easy to trust him because he was just so incredibly … capable.

  So a few minutes later she found herself seated beside Kitty in the golf cart, while Will hung on to the back like a pirate in a crow’s nest. There was room for him to sit but maybe that wasn’t manly enough.

  “Gorgeous woods!” He seemed energized by the whole thing.

  “We love it here,” Kitty said. “I don’t know what we’re going to do in a couple of years when Crescent needs to start school. I might homeschool her for at least a while. Or I might just make the hour drive and stay in town while she’s in school. Maybe volunteer at the school or get a part time job. One thing’s for sure, we aren’t moving. Not an option.”

  “I heard that,” Will said.

  “Here we are!” Kitty pulled up beside a sturdy staircase attached to a tree. Puzzling.

  But not to Will; he wasn’t puzzled. “Holy habitat.” And then he laughed like he’d just won a free trip on the merry-go-round.

  Kitty killed the motor and jumped out. “Like it?” she asked proudly.

  Arabelle rose and let her eyes follow the stairs up and up and up. Then it looked like they turned and went up some more.

  Will stepped behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. “Arabelle! Do you see? It’s a tree house!”

  She shook her head. She couldn’t see anything but stairs and limbs. He tilted her head and lifted her chin.

  “Look right through there. See?” And she did. But more than that, she felt how he leaned into her and his cheek was almost next to hers.

  Kitty laughed. “You didn’t know you were going to stay in a tree house?”

  “No,” Will said. “Arabelle’s parents surprised us and there just hasn’t been much time to ask questions.”

  “Shall we?” Kitty grabbed Arabelle’s cosmetic bag and Will’s laptop case. “I’ll let you in and then I’ll call Chase to come bring the rest of the luggage. He’s building fires in the other houses.”

  “No need. I’ve got it.” He swung Arabelle’s leather cabin bag over his shoulder and picked up his own small duffle.

  It looked like she was spending the night in a tree house. Maybe. Will had promised she wouldn’t have to if it was cold and nasty. Well, he hadn’t said anything about nasty but that was a given.

  “Let me take something, Kitty,” she said.

  “No! You’re the bride and I’m balanced.”

  So up they trudged.

  “I’ve read about these tree house resorts,” Will said. “But I had no idea this was here. Why don’t I know about this?”

  “We’ve been here two years and, frankly, we have not advertised. We only have five tree houses and word of mouth keeps them booked. We have plans for three more by summer and, if all goes well, four more after that. I imagine we’ll put out the word then.”

  “There are fireplaces, obviously. Are they plumbed?” Will asked.

  Plumbed? She hadn’t even thought of that. She stopped abruptly. If the answer was no, she was heading right back down.

  “Yes,” Kitty said. “Fully. Now, they don’t have glamour baths but I think you’ll find the facilities to your liking.”

  “Are you okay, Arabelle?” Will looked over his shoulder to where she had stopped. Snow was falling in his dark hair.

  “Uh, yes.” She started to ascend again. “Just lost my footing for a second.”

  “Probably stepped on a pine cone,” Kitty said. “Chase would have swept the steps when he came over but they are forever falling. Ah, here we are!”

  Arabelle had to admit it was charming. The house, complete with a little balcony, sat high in the top of the trees, as if suspended by magic. In fact, with its gabled roof and shiny little shuttered windows, it looked like the kind of place where magic might happen. Maybe it would. Maybe this would be the place where she and Will could find some magic and start putting together a real life for Avery—and maybe for themselves. Was that too much to hope for?

  “Welcome to Bride’s Perch.” Kitty opened the door and stepped aside to admit them.

  It was only one room, but it was utterly charming and totally romantic in a rustic sort of way, with exposed beams, colorful braided rugs, and a soft blue upholstered love seat in front of the small stone fireplace. Of course, all this was dominated by a queen size square poster bed piled high with patchwork quilts and pillows. It was after all, the Bridal Perch.

  “This is wonderful,” Arabelle said. “How did my parents manage this on such short notice?”

  Kitty laughed. “We worked it out.”

  Of course. People always worked things out for Senator Avery.

  Kitty began moving around the room, pointing out chilled champagne, coffee and hot chocolate fixings, a cheese and fruit assortment in the small refrigerator, and the tiny but serviceable bathroom.

  “And look at this,” she said proudly. She pushed a button and a large ceiling shade folded back to expose a skylight above the bed. “You’ll feel like you really are sleeping in the trees. You might get lucky and see some stars if the clouds move out.”

  “Wow.” Will whispered the word with such awe that both women turned to look at him. One look told Arabelle that, if such a feminine word could be applied to such a masculine man, he was enchanted. He ran his hand over the wall reverently and touched the stone mantelpiece. “You have others?” he asked. “Are there bigger ones? For a family?”

  He wanted to bring Avery here—probably without her.

  Kitty nodded. “We do. Mocking Bird’s Nest has two rooms, one with bunk beds. And Rock-a-Bye Baby is one room with an alcove and a crib that converts to a toddler bed.”

  He nodded, clearly already making plans.

  Finally, Kitty gave them breakfast menus and promised to bring their dinner back at seven—veal scaloppini for Arabelle and vegetarian lasagna for Will.

  “Just fill in what you’d like for breakfast and when you want it. We’ll pick up your order when we bring your dinner.”

  When Kitty had gone, Will threw another log on the fire, though it didn’t need it. Then, just it case the flames might not threaten to escape the confines of firebox, he poked at it. She sank down on the sofa. “Too bad we don’t have marshmallows.”

  “Really?” His head shot up. “I’ll bet Kitty has some. I’ll catch her.”

  He was already halfway out the door.

  “No, Will. Don’t. I was making a joke. I don’t want marshmallows.” He was willing to chase Kitty down for something that didn’t matter. That was nice but she couldn’t let him go out in the cold.

  “Oh.” He looked disappointed. Had he really wanted to do something to please her so much? Or did he want to escape?

  She would give him an out. “So unless you want some … ”

  “No. I don’t eat marshmallows.”

  “No?”

  “They’re made of gelatin and gelatin is made of—well, you don’t want to know. Never mind.” He walked around, inspecting corners and rattling the windows. “Hmm. Solid.” She couldn’t tell if he was talking to her or himself. He ran his hand down the post of the bed. Maybe he was thinking about taking her there. “Mass produced but not bad. Pretty good, in fact. Considering.” So not thinking about her at all. Just being a furniture snob. He opened the bedside table drawer but quickly lost interest in the construction of the piece. “Hey!” He pulled out a brochure. “It’s a map of the grounds.”

  He looked it over and walked over to the window. “Hey, Arabelle. Do you want to go for a walk before it gets dark?”

  “No, thank you.” Unlike him, she was not dressed for a trek through the woods. In her cashmere sweater, good wool pants, and Ferragamo flats, she was dressed for ascending a flight of carpeted stairs in an upscale B&B and going out to dinner.

  He looked back at the brochure—wistfully.

  “You want to look at the
rest of the tree houses, don’t you?” she asked, trying not to be offended that he was more interested in tree houses than in consummating their marriage. What had she expected?

  “I do.” He nodded gravely. “I really, really do. Wouldn’t you like to see them?”

  “Whether I would or wouldn’t isn’t a factor. I’m not dressed for it. More than that, my shoes are thin soled.”

  “You didn’t bring boots?” He apparently could not imagine a world where sturdy hiking boots were not mandatory.

  “I don’t have boots. At least not like you’re thinking of.”

  “Okay.” He walked around some more and looked out the other window.

  “Why don’t you go?” she asked.

  “Really? You don’t mind?”

  In fact, she did mind. No matter what the circumstances, no matter that this was a mess of her own making, she was a bride and she wanted to be treated like one.

  “I don’t mind at all,” she said. “I’ll be fine right here.” Because, really, where else could she be?

  After he closed the door behind him, she reached for her phone. Wouldn’t hurt to check in.

  Her mother answered on the first ring. “Arabelle! What are you doing calling on your wedding night?” Gail laughed. “Maybe I should have had that little talk with you.” So now, that she was married, they were going to allude to sex, were they?

  She wasn’t playing. “It’s not night yet. I wanted to check on Avery.”

  “He’s fine. Happy as can be. So are you there yet?”

  “Yes. Safe and sound.” Then she remembered that her mother would be looking for a reaction. “It’s lovely. Thank you so much for arranging it.” “Isn’t it wonderful? Your father and I saw it on a little jaunt sponsored by the Southeast Tourism Society. We were trying to think of something really special and we thought that Will would adore it.”

  Well, of course. She should have seen right away that the tree house had been chosen for Will—the paragon who had married their single daughter and took her child as his own, who would abstain from liquor, drive a big truck, and fight off werewolves with a pitchfork if necessary.

  Perhaps they could get his picture on a postage stamp.