Lancelot's Lady

by Cherish D'Angelo

  "You probably took bets too," Jonathan grumbled.

  The older man gave him an innocent look. "Now, Tyler, don't be so cynical." He paused, taking a long swig of brandy. "You can't deny you have feelings for Rhianna."

  Jonathan didn't reply.

  "I think she has some pretty strong feelings for you," Marvin said. "And they have nothing to do with JT sending her here."

  "But how do I know that? How can I know for sure that she didn't come here to spy on me and report back to the old man?"

  "Did you flat out ask her, then actually wait for an answer?"

  Jonathan stared at him. "I, uh…"

  "Yeah, that's what I thought." Marvin let out a sigh. "Listen, Tyler, you're like a son to me. If you want Rhianna, you have to fight for her."

  "I tried that with Sirena and I lost."

  "That one wasn't worth fighting for. She had her own agenda."

  Jonathan sighed. "Why did everyone see her for what she was except me?"

  "Love is blind. And deaf and stupid."

  Jonathan clinked his glass against Marvin's. "You said it."

  There was a long silence before either of them spoke.

  Finally, Jonathan said, "So, are you going to tell me?"

  Marvin's mouth curved into a smile. "I lost the bet. I thought it would take you longer to fall for Rhianna. I owe the Missus two weeks of laundry duty and cooking."

  "I didn't fall for―" Jonathan grinned. "Okay, fine. I've fallen for Rhianna McLeod."

  Now he just had to figure out how to get back up.

  ~ * ~

  Rhianna stood on the balcony, a shawl draped over her shoulders. The morning air was chilly, an aftereffect of the previous night's storm.

  For a moment, her life flashed before her. Her childhood with her aunt and uncle. The foster homes she'd lived in. The abuse at the hands of Peter Waverley. The lonely years she'd spent in search of a family.

  She gripped the railing. "All I want is someone to love. Someone who'll love me back in return. Is that too much to ask for?"

  Didn't she deserve to be happy?

  Rhianna thought back to the conversation with Jonathan. He was angry at her mother, and rightly so it seemed. She'd realized something when they were discussing the possibility of JT's affair with her mother. The first day she'd met JT Lance, he had slipped in and out of a fog. He'd called her Anna. The name hadn't struck a chord with her until today.

  When Aunt Madeleine had told her about her parents', the older woman had referred to them as Susanna and Robert, but Aunt Madeleine had also mentioned that Rhianna's father had called his wife by another name―a name he'd called her when they were high school sweethearts. Anna.

  "Anna!" JT had said to Rhianna that first day. "You came back!"

  Rhianna had forgotten about that. Until today.

  She slumped against the railing. "Oh my God. Jonathan is right. My mother knew JT."

  The question was, how well?

  It certainly put everything into perspective. JT's search for her and offer of a job. His confusion over Rhianna's identity. The stunning resemblance she shared with the Lady in the Mist, the painting Jonathan had been inspired to create…

  Rhianna gasped. "He painted her as a siren, a temptress, because of my mother."

  The Lady in the Mist was her mother.

  Everyone had told Rhianna how much she resembled the woman in the painting.

  "Jonathan sees it too," she whispered.

  That's why he now viewed her as a temptress, as someone who had deceived him.

  She groaned softly. "I finally have a chance at love and fate rips it away."

  There was only one thing she could do now. Leave Angelina's Isle.

  But where would she go? She couldn't return to Lance Manor. There was no way she could live there now that she knew the truth about JT and her mother, especially since JT would be a constant reminder of Jonathan.

  I don't know if it's the truth though, she thought. Maybe there's another explanation, one that isn't so…destructive.

  She sighed. "No, running away won't solve anything."

  She had to face JT Lance and find out once and for all what kind of relationship he and her mother had shared. If it was as Jonathan says, she would leave and never look back. But if there was even a remote chance at a plausible explanation, she owed it to JT to listen.

  She shivered at the thought of an emotional confrontation, but it was time to put everything on the line.

  What did she have to lose?

  Everything.

  Chapter 28

  The speedboat skipped along the water and Winston watched the passing scenery like a hawk. There were few watercrafts in the area. That meant fewer witnesses.

  He caught Saunders' eye and smiled. "Almost there?"

  "Yeah. Another fifteen minutes. The dock is on the western side."

  Saunders was steering the boat in the direction of a smaller island with a mildly hilly but lush landscape. The man had been quite accommodating. Winston now knew exactly how to operate the boat. The private airstrip with the waiting plane was a few miles west of Nassau. It would be easy to locate by following the coastline.

  "I take it you want me to bring you and Miss McLeod back to Nassau," Saunders said over his shoulder.

  "That's the plan," Winston lied. Bet you had no idea this would be a one-way trip for you.

  Getting rid of Saunders was the only way he could guarantee his plan's success.

  "Is the house on the beach?" he asked.

  Saunders shook his head. "It's not far in, but you won't be able to see it."

  Winston smirked. "Us showing up will be a surprise then."

  Saunders gave him a worried look. "Gotta warn you. Tyler doesn't like surprises. He's a very private person."

  "Good thing I'm only here for Rhianna then."

  Saunders left Winston to his thoughts and focused on steering the boat closer to the shore. As they passed around a spit of land, a wooden dock appeared.

  "Five more minutes," Saunders announced. "I'll wait for you here."

  "That's fine."

  Minutes later, Saunders inched the boat closer to the dock. He agilely jumped out and secured the rope.

  "Head into the bushes," he said, pointing to the tree line, "right over there and keep walking. There's no path, but if you head southeast you should be okay."

  Winston eyed him suspiciously. "You sure you're not dumping me on some deserted island?"

  Saunders laughed. "No worries. This isn't Gilligan's Island. Just keep walking and you'll see the house about forty yards in."

  Winston grabbed the man's hand and grunted as he stepped from the boat to the dock. What he didn't figure on was Saunders' keen interest in him, or the fact that the guy would see the Glock when Winston's jacket shifted.

  "Are you a cop?" Saunders asked.

  "Not exactly."

  "You won't need a gun around these parts."

  "You're probably right, but one can't be too careful."

  The young man gave an uneasy laugh. Then he shrugged and began unloading the boxes.

  "Thanks for getting me here in one piece, Saunders."

  "No problem, Mr Duke."

  "Here's a little bonus."

  When Saunders turned, Winston smacked him hard with the gun. The man grunted once, then dropped to the dock, unconscious. With a satisfied smile, Winston grabbed him by the ankles and dragged him down the dock. He had to stop every now and then to catch his breath. Saunders' head plunked down the steps, making a dull thud, then left an indent in the sand as Winston pulled him toward the bushes.

  But now Winston had a bit of a dilemma. Saunders could wake up any time and put a pesky dent in his plans. Yet Winston couldn't shoot the guy. The house was too close.

  After a moment's hesitation, he leaned down and whacked Saunders in the head again. "If you know what's good for you," he muttered, "you'll stay down."

  A small pool of blood gathered near the man's head.

/>   Winston studied the Glock and noticed a smudge of blood on the barrel. He wiped it off with a leaf.

  Covering Saunders' body with loose brush, he returned to the beach and headed in the direction his tour guide had pointed out. The dense foliage made him nervous and he took timid steps, checking the ground and trees for snakes. He flicked his hand over his suit, brushing away spider webs he was sure covered him.

  Get a grip, Win. Keep calm, cool and collected.

  Finally, a two-storey house came into view. There were some outbuildings on the property in the back. He guessed one of them housed the caretakers. That left Tyler and his daughter.

  And Rhianna.

  He could barely contain his excitement. His plan was brilliant. Take what he wanted from the lovely woman, then give her back to Lance for a healthy payment. It would be his retirement fund.

  He walked around the side of the house. No one was in the backyard.

  A movement above him caught his eye.

  When Winston glanced up, the very air was sucked from his lungs.

  There she is!

  Rhianna McLeod stood on an upper floor balcony, the wind fluttering the long strands of brilliant red hair. She gazed up at the sky, unaware that she was being watched. Her expression was filled with sadness.

  I can make you happy, Winston promised.

  He moved quickly to the door. Taking a deep breath, he painted on a friendly smile. Then he knocked and waited.

  A few minutes ticked by and he knocked again.

  When the door finally opened, his smile faltered. He'd expected Rhianna, not the tall, well built, angry looking man before him.

  "What the hell is this?" the man thundered. "How the hell did you get on my island? And what are you doing here?"

  Something about the man's voice and appearance seemed familiar to Winston. He knew this man from somewhere, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

  "You must be Tyler," he said, reinforcing his smile. "I need to speak with Ms. McLeod."

  Tyler's gaze narrowed. "Really? What business would you have with her?"

  "I'm Charles Duke, an attorney for her employer Mr. JT Lance. He sent me to collect her." For effect, he added, "The poor fellow's had a relapse."

  Uncertainty flickered over Tyler's face. "Come in."

  Winston stepped inside and set his briefcase on the floor. When his host glanced at him, he raised an impatient brow. "Today would be nice."

  "Ms. McLeod is lying down," Tyler said. "I'll get her." He took a few steps, then spun on his heel. "How did you get here, Mr. Duke?"

  Winston improvised. "I met one of your acquaintances. Roland Saunders."

  "Is he waiting at the dock?"

  "No, he was unable to join me. He rented me the boat."

  Tyler seemed surprised, and for a moment Winston was worried he'd gone too far.

  "Guess everyone's scrambling to make a buck these days," Tyler said with a sigh.

  Winston was about to answer when he glanced over the man's shoulder and caught sight of beauty in motion. She moved down the stairs as if drifting on fluid or air. He stared at her. His prey. His Goddess.

  My bride.

  "What's going on?" Rhianna asked.

  "This is JT's attorney," Tyler replied.

  Rhianna froze. "Did something happen to him?"

  Winston shook his head, his smile disappearing. "Ms. McLeod, I'm Charles Duke. Your employer's attorney. I regret to inform you that JT has had a relapse. He's asked me to bring you back."

  His bride-to-be responded by promptly passing out.

  Chapter 29

  Rhianna opened her eyes and found two worried faces watching her.

  She blinked. "What happened?"

  "You fainted," Jonathan replied.

  Behind him stood the stranger, Charles Duke. The heavyset man had small, beady eyes, presently trained on Rhianna with the precision of a marine sharpshooter. His bulbous nose was honeycombed with enlarged pores, suggesting a man who imbibed in too much alcohol, and the smile he gave her was thin-lipped and stiff.

  Not the friendliest looking man she'd ever seen.

  He's a lawyer, she recalled. For JT.

  She struggled to sit up, but Jonathan gently restrained her. "Just stay there for a minute, Rhianna. You've had a shock." His voice faded. "We both have."

  "Do you know Mr. Lance too?" Charles asked. He seemed surprised.

  "You could say that, Mr. Duke."

  Rhianna took a deep breath. "Let me up. I have to start packing."

  The thought that JT had relapsed spurred her into action. No matter what he might have done in the past, she knew now that she had to stay with him. JT had done so much for her. At the very least, she owed him a chance to explain his connection to her mother. Hopefully it was one that everyone could live with.

  "Wait a minute," Jonathan said, turning to the older man. "I'm not going to let you whisk her away without some kind of confirmation."

  "Let's call Mr. Lance then, shall we? He'll confirm why I'm here."

  Rhianna shook her head. "There's no phone here."

  Charles wiped his damp forehead. "I can show you the letter he sent me."

  "That'll be fine," Jonathan said.

  Rhianna let out a huff. "Jesus, Jonathan. He's JT's lawyer, for crying out loud."

  "No worries, Ms. McLeod," Charles assured her. "I have the letter with me."

  She watched the man as he lumbered to the door and retrieved a leather briefcase. He popped it open on the coffee table in front of them.

  "Here we go."

  Charles passed a single sheet of paper to Rhianna. She recognized the Lance letterhead immediately. The letter itself was a request for the lawyer to find Rhianna and bring her home. It was typewritten and bore JT's signature.

  "I'll pack right away," she said, moving to the stairs.

  As she headed up to her room, something made her look over her shoulder. Charles was staring at her, a peculiar expression on his face. One that suggested he knew something she didn't.

  She gasped. Is JT already dead? Is that what he's not telling me?

  With a shake of her head, she forced the thought from her mind and continued upstairs. In her bedroom, she quickly packed and tried not to think about the fact that she was leaving Jonathan, Misty and Angelina's Isle for good.

  "Focus on JT," she berated herself. "He needs you."

  She thought of Charles Duke. There was something off about the man, but she couldn't put her finger on what. She knew one thing though. She didn't like him. There was a coldness that emanated from him.

  Don't be so ungrateful, she thought. He's taking you home. To JT.

  Would she uncover the truth about her mother before death came to claim him? She sure hoped so.

  Lugging her suitcase downstairs, she was surprised to find the lawyer still standing in the living room. Jonathan had even offered the man a martini.

  "I'm ready," she said with a nod to Charles.

  "Very well then. I've booked a flight back to Miami. It leaves in…" Charles glanced at his watch, spilling his drink on his jacket in the process. "Damn it! I'm so clumsy sometimes." His face puckered and reddened.

  "I hope it doesn't ruin your suit," Rhianna said, handing him some paper towel.

  Charles snorted. "It's only alcohol."

  "How much time until your flight leaves?" Jonathan cut in.

  "Just over two hours," Charles replied.

  "That doesn't give you much time. Or me."

  "Why do you need time?" Rhianna asked, surprised.

  "I was hoping to go back with you."

  "That won't be possible," Charles cut in. "The flight is booked solid. I was lucky to get the last two seats and only because I claimed a medical emergency." He rubbed his two chins. "You could take the next flight, Mr. Tyler. I believe it leaves about four hours after ours."

  Jonathan frowned. "I guess that's what I'll have to do then."

  "Excuse me for a moment," Rhianna said to Charles. Turning
to Jonathan, she said, "Can I speak to you?"

  "Sure."

  She pulled him into the kitchen. "Why are you being so rude?"

  "I'm not. I just don't like some stranger showing up on my island."

  "Oh right. Like me." She scowled. "JT asked him to bring me back, so I'm going."

  "Then go back with me. On the later flight."

  "What's gotten into you? Not that long ago you didn't want anything more to do with me, and now you want to take a trip home together?"

  "I wouldn't exactly call it home."

  "Well, I would," she snapped. "And I do."

  Jonathan grabbed her arm. "Listen to me. Something about this Duke guy doesn't feel right."

  "What?"

  "I don't know. Maybe JT's worse than he's saying. I just don't want to see you get hurt."

  "Why would you care if I get hurt? You've hurt me plenty lately."

  "Rhianna…" He shook his head. "Look, I'm sorry about going off on you like that. I was in shock. First my father sends you here. Then I find out about him and your mother―"

  "Stop right there. We don't know what happened between them."

  "You're right." He released her arm and his palm stroked the side of her face. "And now it doesn't even seem to matter. All I can think of is that I don't want you to leave."

  She couldn't breathe.

  "I care about you," he continued. "A lot."

  She glared at him. "You're unbelievable. I guess it's true. Guys always want what they can't have. Now that I'm leaving, you decide you care about me."

  Jonathan muttered a curse. "Why does everything have to be so difficult between us?"

  "I don't know." She paused, collecting her thoughts and wishing that he'd told her how he felt earlier. "Do me a big favor, Jonathan. In fact, do yourself a favor. Go back to Miami and make things right with your father. For his sake, yours and Misty's." She turned and walked away. "I'll go back with Mr. Duke and tend to JT."

  "I'll be on the next plane," Jonathan called after her. "Make sure you send Roland back with the boat. Tell him it's an emergency."

  Tears welled in Rhianna's eyes. "Goodbye, Jonathan."

  "We need to hurry," Charles called out.

  Rhianna glanced upstairs. There wasn't even time to say goodbye to Misty.

  "Yes, of course," she said.