Chandelier (Tarnished Crowns Trilogy Book 1)

by Annie Dyer

  Franklyn shakes his head. “He owes you more than just nights in your bed.”

  “I know. But I’m not sure what else I want.”

  There’s nothing more said. Franklyn picks up a brush and attacks my hair, even though it needs nothing more doing to it. This is his way of showing me he cares, that as much as he berates and chastises me, he’s here for me. Not his paycheck – I’m fully aware of how much he has in savings because he never spends and all his expenses are taken care of.

  “You look sophisticated.”

  He’s never called me that before.

  “Thank you.”

  “Be careful tonight.”

  I freeze. There have been too many warnings today. “What makes you say that?”

  “Something’s unsettled. Just watch your back.”

  The reception room is crowded when I arrive and I slip in relatively unnoticed. The psychiatrist from the ward is there, as are the doctors. They see me and wave, seemingly immersed in their conversations. The hospital’s other patrons are there, some members of our Scottish parliament and I’m reminded that I’m here because my father can’t be and Lennox is abroad. With Elise.

  The evening blurs. I talk to people I’ve never met and people I should remember meeting before, repeating the same pattern of language. How wonderful the hospital is, the vision of the specialists, the generosity of the donations for the auction that was being held after dinner.

  I see Isaac, talking with some of the other politicians and councilors. He’s here as William’s representative and I keep seeing him glance at me, at the exposed skin of my chest. I’ve no idea what to do. Where do I go with him besides nowhere?

  Dinner passes. I pick at my food, impatient for the evening to end. It’s the time of my cycle where my patience is thin and I range between mildly aggressive and needing a weather warning for storms. The guests sitting nearby attempt conversation and I do what I need to answer and be civil. Nice. I can play the part assigned to me.

  The tables are cleared and the auction begins. It isn’t a silent one, which is a shame. This encourages the men to enter bidding wars, as if rather than bragging publically about the size of their dicks, they show off the size of their wallets.

  A spa day, a helicopter flight, a weekend in Paris. All go for exorbitant prices which is good for the ward. A running total is displayed on a screen at the back of a makeshift stage, video footage of each lot being shown, the winner’s name once bidding has ended.

  I haven’t seen the inventory. Usually I’d look, choose something silly to spend a fortune on, give the press something to report. Tonight I was going in blind.

  “The next lot is a necklace donated from the estate of Miss Marian Wrigley. Made from twenty-four-carat gold, the necklace has three almost identical two-carat green emeralds, set into the gold…” The auctioneer continued, but I didn’t listen. I picked up the listings and saw the picture and the description, recognizing the piece from an afternoon I’d spent once at Sotherby’s in London, learning about jewels.

  Sitting back in my chair, I listen to the early bidding. Ten thousand, twenty. It starts to slow around fifty-five until a new bidder ups the ante. I turn around and see Isaac holding up his number. He’s intent on the room around him, watching for other bidders.

  I wait for the auctioneer to announce the second going before lifting my number, waiting to be noticed. There’s a slight gasp in the room; this is already the highest valued item and now the English Prime Minister’s advisor is battling against Scotland’s princess.

  This time Isaac lets my bid almost win, before stealing the limelight and we climb towards the hundred grand mark. I know that necklace is worth more; I know those emeralds and their story.

  For entertainment value, the auctioneer asks for a break before we conclude with the lot and the room laughs, glasses clink. People talk about the necklace. The story of me and Isaac.

  There’s a tap on my shoulder and I turn to see Franklyn, who usually hides away at these things, preferring to polish his collection of identical brogues.

  “Isaac Everleigh wishes to see you. He’s waiting in the bar.”

  I stand and Franklyn moves back my chair, ever the proper help. “How many shoes have you got through?”

  He just shakes his head.

  Isaac is holding a long drink; if I was a betting woman, I’d guess it was a dark and stormy.

  “I took the opportunity to get you a drink.” He holds up a second, identical, drink and sips from it. “Just want to prove it isn’t poisoned.”

  I take it from him and find I’m right. The rum is strong and spiced, my first drink of the evening.

  “I didn’t expect emeralds to be your thing. Thought you’d have been more about the tour of the distillery and the whisky.” We clink glasses, toasting our rivalry.

  “Will you let me win?”

  My jaw drops. “Why would I let you win?”

  “Please.”

  I don’t think it’s a word he says often.

  “Maybe. Why should I?”

  “It’s what I came here for.” He shakes his head, stopping me from asking more, asking for reasons.

  We’re called back into the room, glances from strangers heading towards both myself and Isaac. I’ve never given up on something I wanted in my life and I’m not sure I’m about to start now.

  The bidding resumes and we climb higher, the auctioneer making baby steps now with the amount. I don’t know Isaac’s background; neither did Lennox when I asked. I have no idea of his wealth, but I knew politicians and advisors did not make a huge sum from their day job.

  At a hundred and fifty thousand I turn and look at Isaac. His curly hair is still neatly styled and his expression gives me nothing. It’s the one word he mouths that makes me pause.

  Please.

  I cease bidding.

  Isaac wins. There’s a round of applause, the crowd entertained, and another lot begins, this for a bespoke suit from an acclaimed Scottish tailor. I bid and win, a gift for Lennox.

  I’m looking for Isaac afterwards to congratulate him when I catch sight of Ben. Wide shoulders that pull at his shirt and his suit jacket hung lazily over his arm. I didn’t know he was here in Edinburgh. His name hadn’t been on the itinerary as being on duty, although he was always working.

  We’re in the foyer to the hotel, two guards I recognize are at the doors, Ben is at the reception. I want to walk over to him, touch his arm, watch his face when he sees what I’m wearing, tell him about the emeralds and I’m about to, when a tall, model-proportioned woman walks up to him. She puts her hand on his back and presses down and then he envelopes her in an embrace that tells me this isn’t someone he’s met recently.

  The man on reception hands him a key card and he passes it to her and they’re talking and laughing.

  I hardly ever see him laugh in public.

  Ben grasps the back of her arm and guides her towards a corridor that leads to the suites. I follow, aware that I’ll be followed too. Ben will know what I’ve seen.

  I stop in a doorway when they pause. She uses the key card and he follows her into a room, his arm around her shoulder.

  I can’t breathe any more.

  My suite is four floors up and a key is needed for the lift. I’ve wrapped my arms around my body, needing to feel pressure, something other than feeling what I’ve just seen.

  We never said we’d be faithful to each other.

  We never said that we were doing anything other than fucking.

  He told me that we couldn’t be anything more.

  I punch the door to my suite when I arrive at it, and as if by magic, it opens and Franklyn is there. Luckily I’m a crap shot, else he’d have taken one in the face and I laugh hysterically.

  “Get yourself inside.” He closes the door behind me and I see Isaac standing there, his shirt sleeves rolled up, displaying forearms speckled with dark hair.

  “Blair…”

  I don’t think. I don’t thi
nk I can anymore.

  I just dash towards him, throw my arms around his shoulders and kiss him.

  Chapter Fourteen

  When I wake, my mother is there, folding clothes and tidying up. She’s never gotten used to having people wait on her and refuses to let people do something that she could. This seems to have included sending Franklyn out of the way.

  “When did you get here?”

  She sits next to me on the empty side of the bed.

  “Half an hour ago. Franklyn called me.”

  I roll my eyes.

  “Coffee?”

  “Just a time machine.”

  She laughs. “At least you weren’t drunk and don’t have a hangover.” Her eyeball tracks what I’m wearing. “Is that Ben’s T-shirt?”

  I nod. “A hangover would be great. Then I don’t have to remember anything.”

  “You kissed Isaac Everleigh. He kissed you back and then pulled away. Apologised. Then left.”

  “Franklyn told you the whole sorry tale.”

  “Blair, I’m not sure you did anything wrong. You kissed a very handsome man. If I was your age and single, I dare say I’d have done more than kissed, just not in front of Franklyn.” She passes me a bottle of water.

  “I thought…”

  “I don’t think you thought wrong. I saw how Isaac looked at you when we were on the island.”

  My mother loosens her hair, dark blonde curls falling down to her shoulders. She’s still pretty. Age has treated her well, although my father’s illness is draining her. All of us.

  “And I saw how Ben looked at you too.”

  I flip my head to her. “Don’t tell Lennox.”

  “Why would it bother Lennox?”

  “Because I know he has some notion about me courting William Goldsmith. Isaac warned me about him – Goldsmith.” I feel fear choke me. “And Lennox wouldn’t like the idea of me with the gardener’s son.”

  She smooths the sheets, the creases disappearing.

  “Blair, you choose who you want. You do what you want. Just like Lennox will. What upset you last night? I know that after Isaac left, you bawled your eyes out like a wee bairn.”

  I shake my head. This isn’t for sharing. “I think everything got to me. Just, here, the pace. Goldsmith…”

  She stands and heads to the window. “You know, my dear, sometimes going along with something, even if you know what the end result will be, is right. You can glean a certain amount of power from holding a different position.”

  “You think I should entertain William?”

  “I think you should let him come to that conclusion.” Her phone rings.

  She reaches for it rapidly and I know she’s worried it’s my father struggling, but instead she smiles when she sees the number.

  “Thank you, Rachel. I’ll be there soon.” She looks at me. “I’ve managed to get an appointment for my hair. Are you okay if I leave you?”

  “You mean you’re sneaking into your friend’s salon? Whatever would the press say?” Rachel was her best friend when they were six. She’s now a hairdresser in one of the less affluent areas of the city, and my mother would rather not go anywhere else for her cut and colour.

  “The press will never know. See you later, when you get home. Everything will be okay.” She leans over and presses a kiss to my forehead.

  I close my eyes and try to believe her.

  I head downstairs when I’ve showered and dressed, seeing red and purple and green wherever I look. My mother has taken away my tears and instead I’m left with rage and annoyance. I need answers, I need to know who was the woman that Ben touched. Did he fuck her like he’s fucked me? Does she know about me?

  I need his words. I never have his words.

  The door to his room is ajar when I get there which isn’t a problem. The hotel has been booked solely for our use, for us and the others who attended the function last night. It’s one way to keep me secure and I don’t think I’ve ever stayed somewhere where we haven’t been the sole occupants, unless I was with Micky and I wasn’t me.

  I head into the room where he brought her and see his clothes laid out on a bed that hasn’t been disturbed by sleep or sex. Everything is in its place, military tidy. Gel, comb, aftershave, cologne. Suit hung on the wardrobe door. Bag packed. Nothing of value or interest is anywhere to be seen because this is Ben and he knows how to do his job.

  And that bed hasn’t been slept in because the corners of the sheets aren’t straight enough. He hasn’t made this bed.

  My head fills with images of him fucking her anywhere but the bed, and I try to push them away, hating the thought. But there’s no smell of sex, no condom wrappers in the bin that does contain rubbish. Nothing to signify a female was here.

  Only my eyes and the image they’ve burned.

  When I leave the room I hear Ben’s voice. He’s standing next to Isaac in the corridor, his arms folded, and then he follows Isaac into what must be his room. I catch the door before it closes shut, a few millimetres of a gap and I listen.

  “I’ve warned her about Goldsmith.”

  “I don’t think she needs to be warned. She doesn’t like him anyway.” Ben’s voice sounds lazy.

  “I know. But he’s…” There’s a pause. “Got people other than me who can advise. And they’re keen for him to have a tie to Blair.”

  “Tie as in?”

  Silence again. I open the door further.

  “If Blair is involved with Goldsmith, it’ll give the English government further leverage over policy. They think she’ll have influence over her brother when he takes the crown.” Isaac’s voice is tired, as if parting with these words is draining his soul.

  I walk into the room. Isaac is standing near the window looking out, Ben is cleaning his handgun.

  “If you’re having a meeting about me you can at least offer me an invitation to join you.”

  Isaac glances over at me and I feel heat fill me up, remembering our kiss, my kiss, last night.

  Ben puts his gun down. Stares.

  It doesn’t matter if he had another girl in his room last night. It should, but I know I won’t be able to walk away from him. It’s been too long.

  “I have no desire to have anything to do with Goldsmith. And if you think he can manipulate me otherwise, you’re grossly underestimating me.” I keep my words quiet and low, even though fury is eating my insides.

  Neither of them say anything.

  They don’t look at each other.

  Or move.

  “Does my brother know of your concerns?”

  Now Ben looks at Isaac and I remember who he is. He’s over enemy lines. A potential spy.

  “Why are you here?” I turn my back to Ben and try to stop my head from spinning.

  Isaac carries on looking out of the window. “Don’t think for one minute, Blair, that you’re the centre of everything. Everyone has their agenda. Don’t forget that.” He turns around and I see the darkness of his stubble. He hasn’t shaved yet.

  “I don’t. But I don’t like being treated as a fool. Goldsmith’s already made an idiot of himself with me. I don’t trust him and I’m not interested in his politics.”

  Ben clips his gun back in his ankle holster. “You don’t have to trust him or be interested. His team see you as a bartering tool. And don’t be fooled; you only get to be prime minister by surrounding yourself with people who know what they’re doing.”

  “I know.”

  Ben nods. He looks mussed, his hair untidy. I wonder if that’s because the woman he was with ran her hands through it and a sharp pain jabs through my chest.

  “Lennox is going to want you to socialise with Goldsmith. He wants you to reel him in.”

  I think of my mother’s words, about controlling the situation by having the knowledge. I push away the memories of Ben in my bed like a pillow about to suffocate me.

  “Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.”

  Isaac shifts from the window. “I need to shower.�
�� He looks at me. “Blair, watch yourself.”

  Neither Ben nor I say anything as he heads into the bathroom. Thirty seconds later, when the sound of water spraying starts, we’re still silent.

  Isaac is naked in the room next to us. I’m staring at my lover, a man I’m not sure I really know. Both of them know more than they’ll tell me.

  “Who were you with last night?” I’m not a masochist. I don’t want to to torture myself with ideas and notions about who she was.

  “My sister.”

  I sit down on the bed.

  “Majken.”

  “Majken.” He repeats the name. “Just so you know, I’m not into screwing my sister.” He stands up, doesn’t look at me.

  Then he leaves.

  I’m still sitting there fifteen minutes later when Isaac comes out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist. If I look enough, I can see the outline of his cock through the material.

  “Ben’s gone?”

  I nod. “I’m sorry about last night.”

  He shrugs. He hasn’t shaved. The dark stubble is still there. “I’m not.”

  I get to my feet, the walls of the room starting to close in. Ben was with his sister.

  I kissed another man.

  “I shouldn’t have.”

  He doesn’t move to let me pass. Instead he catches my hand.

  “Because of Ben.”

  It isn’t a question. And if it were, he’d know the answer. He saw us fucking.

  Isaac pulls me closer, places my hand on his bare chest. He’s leaner than Ben, but his muscles are hard, defined. His skin is hot under my hand.

  His heart beats fast.

  I think it’s beating for me.

  “Because of Ben.”

  His nod is almost imperceptible. “Ben wouldn’t mind.”

  I pull my hand away, start to walk to the door.

  “You should tell him.”

  Chapter Fifteen