She smiled and, tapping her fingertips to her lips, she blew him a kiss before guiding the vehicle down the drive. There wasn’t a soul to be seen as she turned onto the road in the direction of Glasgow. Less than five minutes into her drive, she eyed the narrow lane veering off toward the coast. Biting her lip, she continued straight ahead and told herself the memory of standing on her cliffs with Wyatt had nothing to do with her reluctance to return there, even to say good-bye. The plain truth was, a nostalgic side trip to bid farewell to her special place would only make the task ahead of her more difficult.
She arrived in Glasgow an hour prior to her first appointment. With the famous Buchanan Quarter just around the corner, she killed some time window shopping, but still arrived at Broderick Faulkner’s swanky offices thirty minutes before expected. Whether he was simply efficient, or afraid she’d change her mind if left to wait, Broderick cleared his office of the half dozen employees he’d been meeting with to devote his time to Piper and their business.
Her hand shook as she scrawled her signature over the papers that would shrink Delaney Manor’s land mass by close to a third but, all in all, she’d made the best deal she could under the circumstances. The previous Baronesses might haunt her for turning over a large chunk of the estate for Broderick’s exclusive golf resort, but she’d had little choice. With less than three months to the deadline, she was forty thousand pounds short with no viable prospects for closing the gap. To save the whole, she’d been forced to sacrifice a piece.
The fact that Broderick’s piece included her beloved cliffs was just another bruise on her already battered heart.
The successful land-developer had pulled some strings with his banking friends. Before the ink was dry on the contract, Piper’s bank balance had swelled more than ten times over. She’d never have another financial worry in her life, and Tilly, Moira, and Angus would be free to run the B&B as they saw fit without worries over the bottom line. There was one other small silver lining in this whole twisted nightmare. Abigail would never see the healthy commission Faulkner had promised her in return for her so-called assistance in convincing Piper to accept his deal.
Twenty minutes later, satisfaction tempered the crushing sadness in Piper’s heart as she stood in Abigail’s living room.
Her cousin looked up from the half million-pound cashier’s check, eyes wide with disbelief. “Where did you get the funds?”
“Actually, I have you to thank for the source.” A surge of satisfaction rushed through Piper’s veins. “Broderick Faulkner said to say thank you, by the way. He’d basically given up on the idea of convincing me to sell. Thanks to your little power play last week, he and I concluded the deal on our own and he saved that hefty commission you had demanded.”
Abigail’s jaw dropped open, but she quickly covered her surprise with a scornful laugh. “Oh, how the mighty do fall. So much for your precious legacy.”
Piper started to turn, but her cousin wasn’t finished.
“But I suppose you had little choice.” She sniggered. “It’s not as if your wealthy boyfriend was about to cough up the cash you owed me. Especially with him dealing with the craziness over your lovely photo of his retarded niece.”
Piper would have been sickened by her cousin’s vicious and blatantly bigoted comment if she weren’t struggling to breathe. “How did you know I took the photograph?”
Up came Abigail’s chin. “Don’t be dense, Cousin. The signature on the bottom of the photo was obviously yours.”
Piper curled her fingers into fists as her suspicions were confirmed. She nodded, when what she wanted to do was slap the sneering smile from her cousin’s face.
“You’re right. The signature was mine, but the photo the Bugle ran was blown up, cutting it out. Only someone who had access to the original would know the signature had been there.”
The sneer slid from Abigail’s face, replaced with her laughter. “Well, aren’t you the clever little sleuth. You really shouldn’t leave your laptop lying around where just anyone might come along and learn your secrets.”
The breath clogged in Piper’s throat as she remembered leaving her laptop in the den to escort Broderick to the foyer. Abigail hadn’t the time to snoop through the many files it contained, but she wouldn’t have had to. From what Piper recalled, the photo had been right there on the screen when she’d closed the laptop. A cell phone was all her cousin would have needed to capture the telling image.
Bloody hell. Thanks to Abigail’s lack of respect for anyone’s privacy, combined with her vicious nature, Piper’s world had been ripped apart. Her heart had been broken, and she’d given up a part of her soul when she’d signed over the cliffs. Even worse was the horror and heartache Wyatt and Megan were no doubt going through. He was right. There were bigots in the world like Abigail who would look at Mandy and find her wanting for no other reason than their high opinion of themselves.
“I don’t understand you, Abigail.” Piper glanced around the open floor plan of the flat located in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in Glasgow. “You’ve been given everything. Looks, brains, wealth, but it’s like you’re not happy unless you’re making someone else miserable with your schemes.”
“What would you know about it, Baroness? You walk around with your nose in the air, believing you’re better than everyone else.” Flags of angry color stood out on her cheekbones, growing brighter with every word. A deep breath seemed to drag her back from the edge of hysteria but, when she smiled, there was no humor involved. “But you don’t seem to be able to hold on to a man, do you? A simple whisper in the right ear and Wyatt Hunter dropped you faster than one of his footballs.”
A chill ratcheted down Piper’s spine at the hatred in her cousin’s voice. “If you were angry with me, why involve an innocent little girl who’s never hurt a soul? Why not announce to the world the Gold-Digging Baroness had snagged herself another athlete?”
“You think I wouldn’t have if I’d had the time to scroll through your laptop to find a photo of you and your cold American jock? There’s no money in hearsay, Cousin. The rags only pay for proof.”
Disgusted by her cousin’s bald greed and heartsick over the fallout, Piper shook her head. “Enjoy your inheritance, Cousin. You may, however, want to set aside a few thousand pounds to hire yourself a bodyguard. It’s only a matter of time before Richard Hunter’s political machine learns the name of the Bugle’s source.”
The color leached from Abigail’s face, and the first genuine smile in days tugged at Piper’s lips. “Oh, and Angus sends his regards.”
* * * *
Wyatt called the snap and rolled back from the line to survey the field. It had been said of him, by both fan and detractor alike, that his greatest asset as a QB was his situational awareness. Like a gift from nature, that awareness could be sharpened with determination and focus, but it wasn’t something a player could be taught. One either had it or he didn’t.
For Wyatt, the gift manifested itself as a subtle recalculation of time. Things simply seemed to slow whenever the ball was snapped, allowing him the opportunity to discern the patterns playing out in front of him and choose the most advantageous option available. So far today, the slowing had increased to a sluggish crawl. A couple of times, he’d been tempted to stroll through the slow motion slideshow going on around him and walk into the end zone. After six days of nothing more than an hour or two of fitful sleep per night, the ability to maintain his concentration on such a level was as welcome as it was surprising.
Thirty yards downfield, Tuck lifted his hand, signaling Wyatt on the breakdown by Buffalo’s rookie safety. The world snapped back into real time as Wyatt released the ball in a spiraling bullet. He pumped his fist as six more points appeared on the board, and accepted the celebratory congratulations of his teammates and the coaching staff as he trotted from the field.
He shed his helmet and dropped to
the bench as the kicking team took the field. Today was living proof the superstitious crap he’d followed for years was nothing more than fucking bullshit. There had been no pre-game visits to his lucky charm’s office or last-minute phone calls to her cell. Or, as had been the case more recently, no scouring the sideline for a deceitful redhead with a fine ass.
He and the boys had taken the field and blown out Buffalo all on their own.
“Where’s Piper? I haven’t seen her all day.”
The hair on his arms stood on end. Shit. Had he conjured her name with his thoughts? He shot Kip an annoyed glance. “She’s done.”
Surprise lifted the young man’s brows. “What do you mean, she’s done?”
“I mean, she won’t be back. Your bodyguard skills are no longer needed.” Wyatt shifted his gaze back to the field. “You’re blocking my view, kid.”
Kip danced to his right. “This week or ever?”
“Ever.” Wyatt ignored the dull throb of his heart.
“But she’s this year’s lucky charm.”
Wyatt grunted. “Not anymore.”
“Why not?”
“Christ, Kip. Will you get the fuck out of my way?” Wyatt leaned to his left to follow the action on the field, but the move was purely for show. Out of the corner of his eye, he witnessed the flash of embarrassed hurt on Kip’s face before he wandered down the line in search of safer ground.
Lashing out with his foot, Wyatt kicked the edge of the empty bench beside him. It crashed over, causing several milling members of the offense to scramble clear of harm. Sam Fitzpatrick looked up from his tablet to send Wyatt a questioning glance, but said nothing. Tuck wasn’t as circumspect. He slid onto the bench at Wyatt’s side.
“Damn, Wyatt. Did you forget to apply your hemorrhoid cream?”
“Not funny, Tuck.” Wyatt kept his eyes on the field.
“Have you called her?”
“Jesus.” Wyatt squeezed the bridge of his nose. V had asked the same question yesterday and now Tuck. Which was exactly the reason a man shouldn’t bring a woman to meet his friends. Inevitably, they got involved and, when the relationship exploded after the woman turned out to be a lying bitch with a financial agenda, they felt entitled to a say in the matter.
“CC’s worried. She hasn’t been able to reach her.”
Wyatt snorted. “You can tell CC not to stress it. Piper’s a big girl. Trust me, she knows exactly what she’s doing and how to take care of herself.”
Tuck dropped his elbows to his knees and nodded briskly as Buffalo’s quarterback went down beneath a vicious sack. He smiled at the defensive line’s chest bumping celebration. “CC says there is no way Piper sold you out. I don’t know the lady all that well, but I’m having a hard time believing it, too.”
Wyatt slowly turned his head. He met Tuck’s gaze, and swore beneath his breath. “Neither you, nor your wife, are privy to the details or dynamics of what went down between me and the…lady. Because I consider you a friend, I won’t tell you to stay the fuck out of my business, but I will ask that you do us both a favor and steer clear of the subject of Piper Darrow.”
Tuck nodded and rose to his feet. The usual humor in his eyes was nowhere to be seen. “No problem, my friend, but for this. You’ve got more natural talent for sizing up a person’s character and getting it right than just about anyone I know. Yet, like the rest of us, you didn’t pick up a single negative vibe from her. Not until that rag in London somehow got involved. The same rag that dragged her through the mud three years ago, in case you hadn’t noticed.”
He cocked his head, and the intensity in his eyes deepened. “Can you really see the proper Baroness of Delaney playing footsie with the same people who staked out her estate and made her life miserable?”
Unease tightened Wyatt’s shoulders. Considering CC’s friendship with Piper, of course Tuck would know her history. A history she could have fabricated to cover her true agenda. Christ, what other explanation could there be? She’d fucking stood in front of him with understanding in her eyes and promised the knowledge of Mandy’s true parentage would not come from her, but she’d also admitted the photograph was hers. If she hadn’t given it to the fuckers at the Bugle, how had they gotten their hands on it?
His scowl must have broadcast his train of thought, because Tuck shook his head.
“If Piper really is a gold-digging bitch who fucked you on the off chance of discovering your father’s secrets so she could sell them to the highest bidder, she missed her calling. She belongs in Hollywood.”
Several hours later, the questions Tuck had triggered multiplied exponentially thanks to a two-day old e-mail from Wyatt’s accountant. Slumped on the couch in his loft, he stared blindly at the highlight reel playing on the big screen.
Even if everything else Piper had ever told him was complete bullshit, her debt to Abigail was legit. With his own eyes, he’d witnessed Angus Graham’s furious reaction to learning about the looming deadline, and Jennings had inadvertently verified her honesty on the subject by producing her financials this past Friday morning.
If the balances listed were correct, and Jennings wouldn’t have presented Wyatt with a copy if he wasn’t absolutely sure of the validity of his illegal snooping, Piper was still forty thousand pounds short of telling her cousin to go fuck off.
Christ. She’d had her reputation dragged through the mud and set aside her photography, a career she clearly enjoyed, to save Delaney Manor. He’d seen first-hand what the estate meant to her. More than a roof over the heads of those she loved, the buildings and grounds skimming the rocky coast near the Scottish border were her heart, her legacy, just as she’d claimed.
So, why the hell would she deny his transfer of the remaining funds?
He kept coming back to the same question. Why would a woman willing to sell out a special needs kid reject payment for a job she’d actually done when she clearly needed the money?
Sitting forward, he snatched his cell from the coffee table and punched in a number. Before the first ring had ended, the call was answered simply, “Yes.”
“This contact at the Bugle. Did he specifically name Baroness Delaney as the source of the photo?”
A hesitation, then, “Since the photo was digitally stamped with her signature, he didn’t need to.” Another pause. “Why? Do you have information we don’t?”
Wyatt ignored the uncertainty compressing his chest like a steel band. For nearly a week, that moment when she’d realized he didn’t believe her and her wounded eyes had turned away from him had haunted him like a specter. If he was letting wishful thinking fog his judgment where she was concerned, he would only extend the painful longing he’d refused to recognize. But if he’d let his fear for Mandy blind him to the truth of Piper’s innocence…
His chest expanded on a ragged breath. “No information. Just doubt. Whatever it costs. Get me a name.”
Chapter 24
“At least tell me where ye are, lass.”
Piper rested her elbows on the small bistro table and propped her chin in her hand. Her lazy gaze followed a woman in a floppy hat below her balcony. The wide brim kept the sun from the woman’s face and head, and was wrapped in a bright red ribbon that dangled down her back. The bold tail swished to and fro as she strolled along Bourbon Street.
Though nowhere near as busy as it had been last evening, the pedestrian walkway was far from empty as the visitors to the city care forgot enjoyed the chilly, mid-December morning. Rounding a corner, the woman and her hat disappeared.
Piper sighed. “What difference would telling you where I am make when I’ll be moving on in an hour?”
“I’m simply wantin’ to relieve Tilly’s mind. She’s been in a state since ye left the manor…without sayin’ good-bye, I might add.”
Piper welcomed the soft glow of pleasure warming her chest. She hadn’t had muc
h to smile about in the two and a half months since she’d walked out of Wyatt’s loft condo, and the return of her humor felt good. “For years you’ve been complaining about Tilly’s bossy state of mind. Now you want to relieve it?”
“Ach, ’tis disrespectful and stubborn ye are.”
She imagined his eyes narrowing the way they did whenever he voiced a complaint. “You know I love you, Cousin.”
A dismissive huff. “Charmin’ me won’t do the trick, lass. I’m worried about ye, too.”
Guilt stabbed at her, and she softened her voice. “I know you are, but there’s no need. I’m fine. Really, I am, and if I come to feel that’s no longer the case, you’ll be the first person I ring. I promise. But I need some time, Angus.”
She eyed the historic architecture of Bourbon Street reflected through her water glass and rose to collect her camera from inside the hotel room.
“Ye’ve had nothin’ but time. Nearly three months. If ye were home where ye belong, the people who love ye wouldn’t be concerned with whether or not yer carin’ for yerself proper.”
She returned to the balcony with camera in hand. “I am caring for myself, but I’m not ready to come home. Not yet. A woman deserves to lick her wounds in private, and I’m just now learning to breathe again. I’m not coming back until there is no longer a reason for all of you to hover.” She dipped her knees and studied the play of light on her water glass from different angles. “Give Tilly my love, and tell Moira I’ll call her in a few days.”
“Lass...”
Piper thumbed the screen, disconnecting the call, then let her eyelids slide closed. Couldn’t her friends see she was handling the situation the best way she knew how? Working again gave her focus while the constant travel kept her busy. Busy enough in those first few weeks that she didn’t dwell on the ache piercing her heart every time she recalled the look of condemnation on Wyatt’s face. And busy enough to give her a viable outlet later as the ache slowly slid into anger.
To Win Her Smile Page 24