Lancelot's Lady

by Cherish D'Angelo

  Frustrated, he waddled toward a speedboat at the end. It had one of those flowery names. Misty's Dream.

  He approached it with a sense of doomed failure. At the rate he was striking out, it would take him weeks to check every marina. But he didn't have weeks. The longer he searched for Rhianna, the more chances he was taking that he'd be found out. Duke could report his credit card missing. Or his passport.

  Only one person was onboard Misty's Dream, a black man in his twenties with tight cornrows in his hair. He was hunched over the outboard, a toolbox at his feet.

  "Excuse me," Winston called out. "I'm hoping you can help me."

  "What do you need?"

  "I'm looking for someone. A young woman."

  "What's her name?"

  "Rhianna McLeod."

  The man glanced up, frowning. "I took her out to Angelina's Isle a few weeks ago."

  Winston couldn't believe his luck. He gave the man a huge smile and held out his hand. "Charles Duke."

  "Roland Saunders."

  "Well, Mr. Saunders, I'd like to acquire your ferry services."

  Saunders raised a brow. "Misty's dream isn't a passenger ferry. I told your friend the same thing. It's for supplies only."

  "Well, perhaps you can make another exception." Winston slid a wad of bills from his shorts pocket. "Let's say two hundred dollars."

  Saunders sighed. "Make it three and you have a deal."

  Winston paid the man. "You won't call over there, will you? If Rhianna knows I'm on my way, she'll know something is wrong. I'd prefer to tell her myself. Face to face."

  Saunders shrugged. "Can't call anyway. Tyler's radio is broken."

  "Tyler?"

  "The owner of the island."

  Winston hid a frown. He hadn't thought of possible complications. Of course someone else would be on the blasted island. He'd have to be that much more charming. And convincing.

  "I can take you over tomorrow morning," Saunders told him. "There's a storm coming in tonight."

  Winston looked up at the sky. Fluffy white clouds dotted the horizon and the sun gleamed. "Looks pretty calm to me."

  "Trust me," Saunders said with a grin. "You'll want to be inside tonight."

  "I'm waiting for a―" Winston caught himself, "a phone call from home anyway. Tomorrow is fine. What time?"

  "I'll be fueled and ready to go by nine, Mr. Duke."

  That would work perfectly. By morning, Winston would have his Glock.

  "See you tomorrow at nine then." He took a few steps, then swiveled on one foot. "I can trust you not to run off with my money and leave me in the lurch, can't I?"

  Saunders scowled. "Yeah, you can trust me. I'll be here. Just don't be late."

  Delighted with his success at locating Rhianna, Winston trudged up the wooden ramp. At the top, he paused to catch his breath and wipe his brow. A small smirk teased the corners of his mouth.

  I'm coming, Rhianna, my love.

  Chapter 25

  That night, a storm struck the Bahamas, and Rhianna saw nature in all her fury. Though familiar with the hurricanes that besieged Florida on a regular basis, she'd never felt as vulnerable as she did now. Angelina's Isle wasn't that big and there was no way to reach the mainland in the event of an emergency.

  Just before the storm let loose, Jonathan had secured all the exterior shutters and placed a number of flashlights on the living room coffee table.

  "In case the generator shuts down," he'd explained.

  "Does it always shut down in a storm?" Rhianna asked him now, shivering at the thought.

  He shook his head. "No, but we can never be too prepared. If the generator shuts down, I won't be able to go outside to fix it. You never know what kind of debris the wind will kick up."

  Misty thought the storm was fun. She'd already selected her flashlight and waved it around the living room, even though the lights were still on.

  "Don't waste the batteries, Misty," Jonathan signed.

  Rhianna smiled.

  "What?" he asked.

  "You're getting better with ASL. Faster."

  "I have a great teacher," he said, grinning.

  Me too, she wanted to say.

  She sat down on the sofa and watched Misty and Jonathan roast marshmallows in the fireplace. For a fleeting moment, she envisioned living at Lancelot's Landing permanently. She and Misty would play games during the day, and she and Jonathan would play more adult games during the night.

  What on earth am I thinking?

  Jonathan strode toward her with a well roasted marshmallow on a metal skewer.

  "No thanks," she said.

  Ignoring her, Jonathan peeled the treat from the skewer. "Just one bite."

  She chuckled. "One bite will send me into a sugar high."

  He dangled the marshmallow in front of her until she took a timid bite.

  "Not bad," she said.

  "Not bad?" Jonathan's brow arched. "I'm the king of marshmallows. Just ask Misty."

  He gazed into her eyes and popped the remaining piece in his mouth. That small, intimate act made Rhianna's pulse quicken.

  "Misty's quite taken with you," he said.

  "What about you?" she blurted. "I mean, do you still mind that I'm here?" Her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

  Jonathan sat beside her. "What do you think? It hasn't been that bad having you as my castaway. You seem to have a good effect on Misty. She's learned more in a few weeks with you than with her other teachers." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Rhianna."

  "Misty is a bright child."

  She couldn't take her eyes from Jonathan's face. She loved him. There was no escaping that.

  I've never been so happy in my life.

  But listening to the storm churning outside, she had a terrible sinking feeling. Something was coming. She didn't know how she knew it, but she did. Something was going to happen, and when it did, her hopes and dreams were going to come crashing down around her.

  Outside, the wind screamed through the trees.

  While Jonathan went upstairs to tuck Misty into bed for an afternoon nap, Rhianna stayed behind and cleaned the kitchen. Her mind churned with thoughts of how to approach Jonathan about her feelings, and when he returned to the living room, she was waiting for him.

  "Misty passed out three pages into Sleeping Beauty," he said. "Want a drink?"

  "Sure."

  He poured two glasses of wine. Handing her a glass, his eyes met hers. "Is something wrong?"

  She took a deep breath. "I'm just wondering what we're going to do after."

  "After what?"

  She swallowed hard. "When it's time for me to go back to Miami."

  "Maybe you shouldn't go back," he said.

  She experienced a brief thrill before reality set in.

  "I have a job," she said. "My employer needs me."

  Jonathan's expression darkened. "Just what does he need from you? You've never really told me much about what you do, or about your employer."

  "I'm a palliative care nurse. My patients trust me not to talk about them."

  "So your employer is your patient."

  She nodded.

  Jonathan sank into the armchair across the floor. "Must be tough dealing with death like that."

  She shrugged. "It's all part of life."

  "Still, it must get depressing."

  "Sometimes," she admitted. "My employer is a very caring, generous man. I'll hate it when he's gone. He's been like a father to me."

  She thought of JT waiting for her return. He probably thought she was lounging on the beach, applying sunscreen and drinking margaritas.

  If JT only knew.

  "You know," she said, "the one thing my employer has taught me is that family is everything. Maybe it's time for you to reconnect with yours."

  "The time's not right," Jonathan said quickly.

  She sighed. "If you wait too long, it might be too late."

  "It's already too late."

  She wa
nted to argue with him, but the scowl on his face made her reconsider. "I'm tired." She gulped down the last bit of wine. "I think I'll have a nap too."

  Jonathan said nothing.

  In her room, she stripped down to her bra and panties and climbed into bed. But she couldn't get Jonathan's words out of her head.

  "It's already too late."

  If it was too late for Jonathan and his father, was it too late for her too?

  Will I ever have my own family to love?

  The dynamics of family were complicated. Blood wasn't always thicker than water. Being born into a family didn't guarantee love. One only had to read a newspaper for proof of that. However, love could be found elsewhere, in surrogate parents.

  Rhianna had found that with her aunt and uncle before they'd been killed. And then with JT and Higginson.

  She glanced at the photo by her bed.

  Maybe she could do something to help JT. He had said he was estranged from his son. When she got back to Miami, she would search for this missing son. They'd both need closure before JT passed on. And even if she was unsuccessful at tracking the son down, it would give her something to do to take her mind off Jonathan, Misty and Angelina's Isle.

  Jonathan implied that I shouldn't go.

  She gave her head a shake. It had been a suggestion. That was all. He hadn't professed undying love to her. Hell, he hadn't mentioned any feelings for her, outside of enjoying her body.

  I haven't told him how I feel either.

  She couldn't now. It was too much of a risk.

  The wind wailed and the shutters rattled as Rhianna slid beneath the soft sheets. She closed her eyes, unable to shake that edgy feeling that something was about to happen. Something that would change everything.

  ~ * ~

  Jonathan checked the back door, then the front. He was restless and he was sure he knew why. Rhianna's comment about contacting his father had bothered him. She made it seem so simple, so easy. Just pick up a phone and call the old man and everything will be forgiven.

  But it couldn't possibly be that easy, his mind argued.

  It had been too long. His father had probably moved, maybe even remarried.

  Now that would really burn.

  Yet Jonathan couldn't deny a spark of curiosity. Or the need to resolve the past. Perhaps he should go back to Miami.

  Maybe I'll go back with Rhianna.

  "I don't want her to leave," he muttered to the shadows.

  He hadn't spent much time analyzing his feelings, but he knew that the thought of Rhianna leaving bothered him. What about Misty? Where would he find a teacher that his daughter liked?

  "You like her too," he whispered.

  Rhianna was so different from Sirena. She really cared about others. He could tell she loved Misty.

  But how did she feel about him?

  He released a huff. "She probably can't wait to get home and tell all her girlfriends about her summer romance."

  He glanced at the stairs. Rhianna was sleeping up there, and all he could think of was joining her. But not to sleep.

  Jonathan paced the living room floor.

  He wanted Rhianna. He needed her. If she left him, he'd feel an emptiness that wouldn't be easily filled. Everything in his body and mind urged him to tell her how he felt. Trust her with his heart. He wanted to wake up every morning with her and go to sleep at night with Rhianna in his arms. He wanted the happily ever after, like in Misty's fairy tales.

  Suddenly, he froze. "I'm in love with Rhianna."

  As soon as the words were spoken aloud, he knew it was true. He loved her and he never wanted to let her go.

  With lightness in his heart, he raced upstairs. Pausing in front of Rhianna's bedroom door, he took a deep breath. Then he quietly pushed open the door and stepped inside.

  Rhianna was buried beneath blankets and fast asleep. He moved to her side, then hesitated. Should he wake her? Should he tell her how he felt?

  A framed photograph on the nightstand caught his eye.

  What in God's name is she doing with this?

  Rhianna turned her head, her eyes opening slowly. When she saw him, she gasped in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

  Hot anger surged through him. "Is this a joke? Did he send you here to bring me back?"

  Rhianna blinked and struggled to sit up. "What are you talking about?"

  "This!" He shoved the photo into her hands.

  "It's a photo of my employer."

  "Your employer? Like hell it is! This is a photo of my father."

  ~ * ~

  Rhianna could barely breathe. "What did you say?"

  "You heard me," Jonathan snapped. "This is my father. Jacob Tyler Lance."

  "But you said your name was―"

  "Jonathan Tyler Lance."

  She shook her head, confused. "I thought your last name was Tyler. You never once mentioned Lance."

  "Because," he said tightly, "I was doing my best to get far away from it. Being a Lance comes with responsibilities. And apparently I was nothing but a huge disappointment. Or so I was reminded years ago."

  "JT is your father?"

  He glared at her. "Unfortunately."

  She grabbed her robe from the end of the bed, wrapped it around her and sat down on the bed. "I had no idea."

  "Sure you didn't."

  She caught his gaze and frowned. "What are you insinuating?"

  He let out a bitter laugh. "I'm not insinuating anything. I know the truth now. How you came to be accidentally stranded on my island. How you happen to know sign language when I needed a teacher for Misty. Jesus! I bought it all."

  "Wait a minute," she said, trying to remain calm. "I was stranded here accidentally."

  Jonathan acted as though he hadn't heard her.

  "The bastard sent you here to spy on me. Didn't he? He wants to know if by turning down his millions I'm able to support myself and my daughter. He wants to rub my failed marriage in my face because he predicted it." He shook his head. "I can't believe this. Does he want me back now to take over his empire?"

  "Your father is dying, Jonathan." She timidly reached out, but he snatched his arm away.

  "Don't touch me! You're nothing but a liar, Ms McLeod. I don't know how I could've been so foolish to think I had feelings for you. To think that maybe we had a future together. I thought you were―" His voice cracked. "You're no different than Sirena. You both go where the money is and to hell with anyone else." He spun on one heel and left the room, the door slamming behind him.

  Rhianna's eyes burned with unshed tears.

  What just happened here?

  She thought back to the day JT had given her the plane ticket for her dream holiday. There had been one moment when something had passed between JT and Higginson. Now she knew it had been the glimmer of conspiracy. No matter what Jonathan thought, she couldn't believe that JT wanted anything other than to be reunited with his son. She'd seen the haunted look in JT's eyes when he talked about his estranged son. He wanted resolution and forgiveness―from a son who was incapable of forgiving.

  "I finally fall in love and now I've lost him."

  "I don't know how I could've been so foolish to think I had feelings for you," Jonathan had told her.

  She could almost feel her heart ripping into shreds. Soon there'd be nothing left of it.

  "JT?" she cried, clenching the photo. "What have you done?"

  Unable to look at JT's smiling face any longer, she opened the nightstand drawer and shoved the photo inside. That's when she caught sight of the Lady in the Mist print. Her tired eyes found the signature and it suddenly became very clear. She knew exactly who had painted it―and the other eight or so paintings JT had purchased over the years.

  "Jesus," she hissed. "How can I be so dense?"

  JT had been buying up Jonathan's paintings, spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on them. Did he do it because of guilt? Or was he trying to support his son the only way he knew how?

  Does Jonathan kn
ow?

  She doubted it. An art gallery handled all his sales. He probably never gave it a second thought, since the money was funneled through the gallery. She'd hazard a guess that he would never knowingly take money from his father, even if it was payment for a painting. He'd feel like he was being bought off. That it was charity. And Jonathan was far too proud to accept that.

  What do I do now?

  She slumped on the bed, feeling drained of energy and emotion. JT must have sent her here with hopes that she'd figure it out and bring his absent son back. And his granddaughter.

  JT, why didn't you just pick up the damned phone?

  The answer was clear. Pride. Both Lance men had too much of it.

  She understood why JT wanted closure before he died. It was common with people who knew they were dying to reach out to lost family or friends, to attempt to fix wrongs or mend broken hearts.

  But why had he dragged her into this mess?

  There were two things she knew without a shadow of doubt. JT had set them up, and Jonathan would never believe she hadn't knowingly deceived him.

  As the winds raged outside, she crawled into bed without removing her robe. Maybe she could sleep this nightmare away. Maybe she'd wake up the next morning and discover it had all been a bad dream.

  Maybe hell will freeze over and take me with it.

  Sleep took her in its tenuous grasp and played with her pained heart in ways that only nightmares can. Between fleeting, troubled visions of loneliness and uncertainty, Rhianna slept.

  Chapter 26

  When Winston awoke the following morning, he went down to the lobby in search of breakfast. The hotel restaurant was small and empty except for one other table, and the waitress was slower than a sloth, which annoyed him to no end. That and the fact that she'd placed him beside a couple with a screaming baby when there was an entire room filled with empty chairs.

  Lazy bitch doesn't want to walk too far, he guessed.

  The baby's screams filled the small room.

  Winston glared at the parents, but they were oblivious. The mother tried to give her child a bottle, but it was swatted from her hand by a tiny curled fist.