To Win Her Smile

by Mackenzie Crowne

  Her laugh was little more than a cough. “You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

  He shot her a quick glance and quirked a wry brow.

  Irritation flashed in her eyes. “Very well. The problem isn’t financial. Well, not really.” Her sigh blew through the vehicle, and she shook her head. “My father’s will included an old stipulation granting a large sum of money to his only sister, Claire. She passed a decade ago. Consequently, with his death, the bequest fell to Claire’s heir, my cousin, Abigail.”

  He turned his head at the flat tone of her voice. “The cousin you said you’ve never been close to?”

  She snorted. “Never been close is an understatement. She’s a rather nasty woman. A snotty elitist who has absolutely no concern for the feelings of anyone she considers her inferior. Which is just about everyone.” Her shoulders jerked in a shrug. “Anyway, either by fate or design, I’m not sure which, Da included a three-year grace period to disburse the funds owed her. If he hadn’t, I would have been forced to sell the estate long ago. The money is due to Abigail no later than December thirty-first of this year.”

  “How much?” He met her gaze in a sidelong glance.

  Her lips flattened with distaste. “Five-hundred-thousand pounds.”

  “Fuck. Me.”

  She actually smiled. “I know, right?” She dropped her head to the rest and turned to look out the windshield. “I’ve managed to put some funds aside in the last three years and, thanks to you and the Marauders, I’ll have more than enough to pay Abigail off once the projects are complete.”

  His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. Such an easy fix and yet, she would never ask. “I’ll have the balance transferred to your account as soon as we arrive at the manor.”

  She snapped her head around to squint at him. “No, you will not.”

  “Jesus, Piper. It’s your money.”

  “Until I’ve completed the job, no, it isn’t.”

  Damn stubborn woman. What difference did a week or two make? He frowned and she reached over the console to squeeze his forearm.

  “I appreciate the sentiment, but the money isn’t the problem.” She returned her hand to her lap. “Because I didn’t want to worry the others needlessly, Moira, Tilly, and Angus aren’t aware of the deadline. Not telling them was a mistake on my part. Apparently, Abigail has become impatient. She showed up at the manor yesterday and made some threats based on a situation they aren’t aware of. I’m here to put their minds at ease and set the record straight.”

  She said nothing more, and he was content to allow the silence to reign, for the moment. They were on her turf now, and would be for the next forty-eight hours. She’d handle the manor affairs as she saw fit, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t watch and listen. She may not like it, but if there was a way he could help, he would. In the meantime, he hoped witnessing her in her natural environment would provide the key to smashing through her self-erected barriers once and for all.

  Twenty minutes later, she directed him off the highway and onto a country road. Several miles had passed before she shifted forward in her seat. She pointed at an opening in the stone fence running along the roadway to their left.

  “This is it.” Her breathy announcement was a mix of nerves and pride.

  Wyatt slowed the Land Rover and turned through the open metal gate. On one of the thick pillars was an aged iron plaque, engraved simply Delaney Manor - 1618. The walls of Piper’s beloved home could be seen through the foliage at the end of the long drive. At least thirty mature maple trees lined the gravel driveway like sentinels on watch. The earthy scent of fall drifted to his nostrils as they passed the acres of leaf strewn lawn between them and their destination. A white wooden fence followed the line of the drive off to the left. On the right, beyond a small stone wall, a pond glimmered in the early morning sunlight.

  “There are no guests in residence at the moment, and none scheduled until the weekend. We are quite sensitive to the concept of privacy here at Delaney Manor. You’ll be able to wander the estate freely without the worry of being recognized.” She spoke without glancing his way and he shook his head.

  He wasn’t the one concerned with recognition, but he understood. She still saw their relationship as temporary. He meant to change her mind on that. In time, she would need to come to grips with his celebrity and his family name but, for now, he’d play duck and hide if it made her happy.

  He shot her a grin. “You sound like a tour guide.”

  Her smile came easily for the first time in what seemed like days. “Sorry. Habit. A good portion of my responsibilities here at the manor are that of a tour guide. One with a title.”

  She turned to glance forward as they rounded a bend and the house came into view. Wyatt blew an appreciative whistle. Christ. The place belonged on a postcard.

  A fountain sat at the center of a large parking area the width of the house. Rounding the fountain, he eased the vehicle to a stop. Elaborately carved pillars and a detailed archway framed the double wooden doors at ground level. Above the impressive entry, an intricate façade rose to the roof line above the third story.

  The house was enormous. Seven tall chimneys rose from several steeply pitched rooflines. At least two dozen windows faced the three story structure, in a pale yellow stone faded with age. To the left, clinging vine covered an archway leading to a courtyard and a second wing not much smaller than the main section of the home.

  “Bloody hell. Angus, are you kidding me!” Piper was out the door and hurrying beyond a wide opening in a row of high hedges before Wyatt had even shifted into park.

  He left the bags in the back to follow her. The murmur of her voice grew louder as he walked around the graveled drive to an unattached, four-bay garage. The doors were open and several of the slots held vehicles. An elderly man Wyatt assumed to be Angus clung to the rungs of a tall ladder, rubbing the glass of a second floor window with a handful of newspaper.

  Piper frowned up at him with her fisted hands on her hips. “What happened to the boy from town that Moira hired?”

  The old guy didn’t bother looking at her. He stretched out far enough even Wyatt winced.

  “Young Frasier Cameron, you mean? He’s a good lad. Works hard. But ‘Tis a school day, don’tcha know.” Angus scrubbed a spot on the glass before straightening. The ladder shifted beneath his weight.

  She whimpered. “And this couldn’t wait until he was done for the day?” She pressed a hand to her chest. “Please, Angus, come down before you slip and break your neck.”

  He twisted his head to glare at her from above. “I’m doin’ me, job, lass. A job I’ve been after since long before you were a twinkle in yer Da’s eye. I won’t be slippin’.” He shifted his gaze to Wyatt. “Who is this, then? The American footballer Moira’s been croonin’ over?”

  Piper slapped a hand over her eyes before glancing back at Wyatt. Her eyes held a plea and her hand flopped to her side. He stepped forward as she returned her gaze to Angus on the ladder.

  “Yes, this is Wyatt Hunter. And if you’ll come down from there, I can introduce you proper.”

  Angus turned his scowl on Wyatt. “Women.” He jerked his head in Piper’s direction. “I changed this one’s nappies, yet now that she’s grown, she thinks I’m too feeble to do the job she pays me to do.”

  “That’s not true,” she grumbled.

  “Ha!” The old man started down the rungs.

  Her shoulders dropped in relief. “I would just prefer you keep your feet on the ground while doing the job I’m paying you to do.”

  “Is that so?” Angus reached the ground and turned to her with a squint. “Then you’ll be tellin’ me where you’ve hidden me chainsaw, lass. There be a branch danglin’ over the nature path beyond the pond. We can’t have it fallin’ and conkin’ a guest on the head, now, can we?”

  She chewed her
bottom lip.

  Angus shot his eyes heavenward. “It’s a bloody branch, lass. I’m not plannin’ to trim the whole of the woods. A swipe or two, and the job is done.”

  She surprised Wyatt by laughing and stepping into Angus’s arms. “I’ve missed you, cousin.” After pressing a kiss to his cheek, she pulled her head back to grin at his huff of dismissal.

  “Ach, now. You’ll not be gettin’ by me with a kiss and a grin. There’s work to be done around the place, and someone has to do it.” He shifted his gaze to Wyatt. “You’re a strappin’ young lad. You can help.”

  “Angus, Wyatt is a guest.” Piper stepped clear of the old man’s arms.

  “I’m happy to help.” Wyatt rubbed his hands together and winked at her. “I haven’t had the chance to fire up a chainsaw in years.”

  Her jaw dropped open, but a grin transformed Angus’s face. “There’s a lad.”

  Wyatt smiled. “If you’ll give me a few minutes, sir. I’d like to see to it our bags are settled inside first.”

  Angus nodded and turned back to the ladder.

  Piper grabbed her cousin’s arm. “If you promise to leave the ladder work for Frasier, I’ll cough up the location of your power tools.”

  He grinned, obviously pleased with himself for winning her capitulation. “Sure, and I could do that.”

  She dropped her hand to her side with a sigh. “Check in the boot of the Woodie.”

  He jerked his gaze to a pre-war era wood-paneled station wagon parked inside the garage, then back. The grin slid from his face, replaced with impressed disbelief.

  “Ach, ‘Tis a clever lass ye are, hidin’ me tools beneath me verra nose.”

  She laughed and batted her lashes. “I’ll send this strapping lad out to you in a few minutes once I’ve introduced him to the ladies.”

  Busy retrieving the chainsaw from the trunk of the car, Angus waved them on without looking their way. Wyatt shook his head and chuckled as she linked her arm with his and led him toward the front of the house.

  “I like him.”

  She grinned and tossed a glance over her shoulder. “So do I.” She squeezed his arm. “It was very sweet of you to offer to help him.”

  “Sweet, hell. I was serious about getting my hands on his chainsaw.”

  “Ha. Ha.” She rolled her eyes and he laughed.

  “It’s a guy thing. You wouldn’t understand.”

  Her smile softened before she looked away. “Regardless, I’m in your debt. Over the past six months, he’s suffered a few dizzy spells. He makes a stink about us hiding the more dangerous tools, but he understands why. He’ll be pacing the path waiting for you so he can go out and do manly maintenance again.”

  Wyatt paused at the back of the Land Rover and turned her in his arms. “My pleasure, duchess.” He pulled her close and took his time kissing her. The unevenness of her breathing pleased the shit out of him when he finally let her up for air. “I like having you in my debt. You can pay me back later tonight.”

  Her eyes, already a bit hazy, glittered with anticipation. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  She waited while he gathered their small carryon bags, then led him inside the house, pausing in the grand foyer. It was obvious, even to his untrained eye, whatever her father had spent on the renovations had been well worth the price tag. If the outside belonged on a postcard, the inside should’ve been featured in one of those fancy homes magazines.

  Glossy wooden floors met classic wainscoting, intricate crown molding, and exposed dark wood beams. Furnished in a mix of old and new, each room they passed throughout the quiet house was more inviting than the next. He had yet to meet Moira or Tilly, but Piper loved them both. No doubt they would turn out to be as welcoming as Angus, and he could see why she’d made a success of her B&B. The combination of his beautiful duchess, her charming staff, and the superior lodgings would tempt anyone staying at her manor to book a return visit before leaving.

  Passing beneath one of several archways, they left the long central hallway behind to enter the kitchen. Along with the ceilings, at least sixteen feet high and featuring exposed wooden rafters, the same warm stone from outside had been utilized to soften the look of the modern industrial appliances. Oversized windows let in plenty of natural light and the scent of baking bread made Wyatt’s mouth water.

  A sixty-something woman with salt and pepper curls clipped short wiped her hands on the apron wrapped around her plump waist, then opened the door of one of three ovens to check the contents. At the long granite island at the center of the room, a petite strawberry blonde leaned over a ledger, chewing on a pencil. She looked up, spotted Piper and him…and screamed.

  Chapter 21

  “I swear, luv, I don’t know how you held out against him as long as you did.”

  Piper peeked around the refrigerator door to roll her eyes at Moira. “Come away from the window. They’ll be back soon and he’ll catch you watching.”

  “As if he’s not used to women watching him.” A delicate snort flared Moira’s nostrils as she pivoted and returned to the island. “Besides, it’s not like I can make a bigger fool of myself than I already have.” She slid onto one of the stools and dropped her forehead to the granite surface with a groan.

  Piper grinned, understanding completely. How often had her legs gone weak just from the sight of him? “I wouldn’t worry about it, dearest. I’m sure you’re not the first woman to scream when he walked into the room.”

  Moira rolled her head to the side to leer. “You can be such a bitch.”

  Piper laughed and selected a water bottle from the bottom shelf. The embarrassed look on Wyatt’s face had been adorably sweet as Moira had followed up her scream by bolting from her stool to stare at him with her mouth gaping like a landed fish. Quite a feat, that. Piper couldn’t recall the last time Moira had been rendered speechless. Probably because it had never happened.

  But, sweeter yet, had been Wyatt’s reaction to Tilly. Or perhaps the correct term would be bittersweet. For all practical purposes, the manor’s housekeeper had raised Piper. While more than a little old school and forever conscious of appearances, Tilly wasn’t blind. The moment the introductions were complete, she’d volunteered to show Wyatt to his room on the second floor and admonished Piper to take her bag to her own room…on the third.

  Piper’s chest heaved on a heartfelt sigh. She’d still been humming with anticipation over the debt she’d promised to repay that evening. Yet, neither by word nor action, had Wyatt challenged Tilly’s rule by objecting to the sleeping arrangements. He had, however, met Piper’s gaze as he’d followed the older woman from the kitchen, and the wry laughter in his eyes had nudged her heart ever so much closer to the edge of a cliff she was hoping to avoid.

  “I really should hate you.”

  Piper blinked and mentally shook herself. Happy to ignore the manic thumping of her heart, she shut the refrigerator and turned to face her friend. “Whatever for?”

  Moira straightened on the stool. “For bringing him here and ruining me.”

  Piper broke the seal on her water with a droll smirk. “You insisted, remember? And just how did I ruin you?”

  Moira glanced out the window to where Wyatt had disappeared down the path into the woods with Angus nearly an hour ago, then back. “By dangling the perfect man in front of me when he’s clearly not available. I’ll never find a guy who matches up, no matter how hard I try.”

  Piper laughed and climbed onto the stool beside her.

  Grinning, Moira took hold of her hand. “I’m thrilled for you, luv. You deserve the best and it looks as if you’ve found him.”

  Piper smiled but, even to her, it felt forced. She squeezed Moira’s fingers. “Don’t jump ahead of yourself. There is no guarantee this thing between us will last past the next couple of weeks.”

  “You said he asked for the
time to see where things lead.” Confusion creased Moira’s brow.

  “Yes, and things could lead straight into a brick wall.”

  And that brick wall wasn’t something Piper wished to consider, not while she was having such a lovely time enjoying the moment. So far, she’d avoided that cliff, but she was definitely teetering on the edge. Like a moth to the flame, she couldn’t resist Wyatt, and hadn’t tried very hard. The day would come, however, when he’d be gone.

  The truth was, while she was a baroness, Wyatt was American royalty. Their lives were worlds apart. With each consecutive day, the reality of their existences simmered closer to the surface. Sooner or later, they would each have to go back to their own. She belonged here in the wilds of northern England, and the shining spotlight of championship sports and high power politics were his home.

  “Piper, you’re looking at this all wrong.”

  She sighed and bent her head to rub her cheek against Moira’s. “I love you, dearest, but I didn’t fly all this way to talk about Wyatt and me.” She turned her head as Tilly reappeared and attempted to clear the nerves from her throat. “I need to speak to you both about Abigail.”

  Tilly huffed and rounded the island to check the loaves of bread baking in the oven. “Claire Eaton was a lovely woman. Both she and your da would be horrified at the wretched brat that girl has become.”

  “I can’t believe she had the gall to show up here with her estate agent.” Moira’s lips flattened in a scowl. “What the he…heck,” she shot a wincing glance at her mother’s back, “could she be thinking, presuming to have any say over the manor? The nerve of the woman.”

  “She has the gall and the nerve because she believes I won’t have the funds in time.”

  Tilly straightened and slowly turned to face Piper. “In time for what, exactly?”

  Glancing between Tilly and Moira’s confused stares, Piper blew a guilty sigh. “I misled you all when I told you Da’s will required the disbursement of the funds due Abigail only when they became available. The truth is, I have until the end of December, and my cousin knows it.”