by Joanna Shupe
“I always do.”
Preston kissed her cheek, as well. “I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll be the one shouting himself hoarse in the crowd.”
Their friends left, then Harrison reached for his wife and pulled her onto his lap. He tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. “How was practice this morning?”
“Exhausting, but Vallie said he’ll ease up in the days before we leave.”
“You’re going to win.”
“I hope so.” She rested her cheek against his shoulder. “If I weren’t so tired I’d suggest going upstairs and celebrating your victory.”
“Good idea. Let’s celebrate with a nap.”
She chuckled. “You are extremely transparent. That means getting undressed, which will lead to other strenuous activity.”
“Perhaps . . . or perhaps it means merely resting together.” He rose out of the chair, keeping her cradled in his arms. “Let’s go and find out.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Maddie smothered a yawn as she stepped out onto the back lawn. Her husband had kept her up late last night as they celebrated his victory over the Archers. When she left their bed thirty minutes ago, he was still sprawled on his stomach, snoring softly. She added sometimes snores to the list of things she’d discovered about him since they married.
She would’ve loved to sleep in as well, but practice awaited. Valentine, her coach, was probably already here, setting up for their session. After the tournament, however, she swore she wouldn’t rise before noon for an entire month.
Approaching the court, she was surprised to see Vallie holding a shovel. He was scooping something off the court, which he then threw into the brush several yards away. It had looked like a large gray animal of some kind.
“What was that?” she asked when she arrived.
Vallie put the shovel down and dusted off his hands. “An opossum. Another animal must have killed it and left the carcass on the court. I asked the gardeners for a shovel so I might spare you the grisly details.”
“Thank you. Was it awful?”
“Let’s just say that I am glad I possess a hardy stomach. Now, how do you feel this morning?” He clapped his hands together. “Ready to take me on in a match?”
This was new. Normally, he ordered her to repeat the same drills over and over. “No instruction today?”
“We’ll talk about where to improve after. I thought playing a full match would help build up your endurance. Then we’ll ease up from here on out.”
She grinned, anticipation making her bounce on her toes. “I won’t go easy on you and your sore knee.”
He laughed. “The knee’s feeling pretty good this week. I think we can keep up with you.”
“We’ll just have to see, I suppose.” She went to find her favorite racket, then strolled onto the court. They stretched and took the time to properly warm up before starting the match.
She played well, but Vallie showed no mercy. Maddie ended up losing, but just barely. Though she was competitive, she preferred playing against tough opponents. They made her better. It was one of the reasons she liked playing with Harrison growing up, because he never coddled her or eased up because she was a girl.
Her coach wiped his face with a cloth. “The backhand continues to be your weakness. Your hips are not rotating enough into the movement. Any decent opponent will take advantage of it.”
Maddie sighed and quickly drank a glass of lemonade. “We’ve been working on it since April. Before that, probably. I don’t know what else to do.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Vallie said. When she started to argue, he held up a hand. “I know you strive for perfection, which is good, but you have to be patient. Conversely, your short game is much improved and most male players couldn’t return your forehand winner. Does that make you feel better?”
“A little.”
“Good. It also helps that I know your weaknesses and look to exploit them as much as possible. A real opponent won’t do that to you.”
That made sense. “Then I am glad I won’t be facing you in Philadelphia.”
Vallie shifted, then winced as he wobbled. Maddie grabbed his arm to steady him. “You should come inside and rest your knee. I can fetch ice from the kitchens.”
“No, but thank you. When I get home I’ll have my valet rub it with that liniment Bill uses,” he said, referring to his friend, “Roaring” Bill Kennedy, a pitcher for the Bridegrooms. “As you know, it works wonders on aches and pains.”
“At least come through the house instead of going all the way around. It’s shorter.”
Vallie agreed, and they slowly walked up the terrace steps and into the back of the house. She sent a footman to hail a hack and they continued through the corridor toward the entryway. Resting on a table near the front door was a huge arrangement of deep crimson, nearly black, roses.
“Has someone died?” Vallie asked.
“Not that I know of.”
Farley materialized from the shadows. “Those were just delivered for you, madam. There is a card there on the table.”
“That arrangement is ominous, to say the least,” Vallie said.
Maddie walked to the table and picked up the card.
BEST OF LUCK IN YOUR UPCOMING TOURNAMENT.
Best of luck? But these were . . . dark and morose. Not the sort of thing that accompanied a message of well wishes. And there was no signature. Who would send these?
None of this made sense.
She tapped the card with her fingers. “Perhaps the flower shop made a mistake. We should throw them out.”
“No, you need to show them to your husband,” Vallie said.
“Who happens to be right here.”
Maddie spun to see Harrison coming down the stairs. He wore a light gray suit and a black vest, his dark hair oiled and swept back. The style highlighted his midnight-blue eyes, which were currently locked on the flower arrangement. When he reached the table, he looked to Maddie. “Was there a card?”
She held it out, and watched his expression turn thunderous as he read the words. Then, in an instant, his face cleared. “I’ll speak to the flower shop about it. This has to be a mistake,” he announced, and put the card in his coat pocket.
“That’s what I assumed,” she said. “No doubt the flowers were supposed to be a brighter color.” It still didn’t answer who they were from. Was someone trying to make it appear as if she’d been unfaithful to Harrison?
“Farley, have these disposed of.” Harrison motioned to the flowers. Then he struck out his hand toward Vallie and the two men shook. “Livingston, always a pleasure. If you’ll both excuse me, I must travel downtown for a meeting.”
Without another word, Harrison was out the door and into a waiting carriage. “Sir,” Farley said to Vallie. “A carriage is here for you, as well.”
“Thank you. Maddie, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, bright and early. Get some rest.”
“You too, Vallie. Stay off that knee.”
When her coach left, she stood there, staring at the flowers, wondering. Farley closed the front door, then motioned to a footman to carry the arrangement belowstairs. “There, madam. It’s as if it never happened.”
“Have you ever seen an arrangement like it, Farley?”
“No, madam. I definitely have not. Couldn’t have been easy, finding flowers that dark.”
Maddie agreed. A bouquet such as that couldn’t have been easy to procure . . . or cheap. So why had it been sent with such a cheerful note?
It took Harrison just two stops to locate his brother.
The Archer home on Fifth Avenue was empty, so Harrison had hurried to the Archer Industries offices downtown. He had Preston in tow, since his friend had pulled up to the Websters’ house just as Harrison set to depart. The arrival was fortuitous, as no one intimidated others better than Preston.
During the ride south, Harrison’s blood boiled with the need to choke his brother, to shake Thomas until he understood that Maddie was t
o be left alone. How dare his family try and rattle her?
Finally, they arrived at the seventh floor where the executive offices were located. The staff watched Harrison’s progress with wide, curious eyes as he marched the long space toward the president’s office. Preston followed, remaining silent, also angry over the flower delivery.
Though the door to the president’s office was closed, Harrison didn’t stop his approach. The secretary chased after him, saying that Mr. Archer was in an important meeting and could not be disturbed, but Harrison didn’t even slow down. He threw open the door, flinging it against the wall, and stepped inside.
His brother shot to his feet. “What on earth are you doing here?”
Harrison left Preston to deal with the secretary while he advanced on his brother. “Get out,” he snapped at the stranger sitting in the armchair, gaping at him like a carp.
Within seconds, the man scurried from the office, leaving the three of them alone.
Thomas had nowhere to go, so Harrison caught him easily, grabbing his brother’s throat and slamming his back against the wall. It suddenly became clear how much Harrison had grown in the last three years, because he now had several inches and at least twenty pounds over his brother. “You goddamn bastard,” Harrison growled in Thomas’s face, thumping his brother’s head into the wall again. “I told you to leave my wife alone.”
Thomas had the nerve to lift his chin. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Liar. You are trying to intimidate her, distract her right before the tournament, just as you threatened.”
“I’ve done nothing of the sort.”
Harrison squeezed, pressing on the sides of his brother’s throat. “You took me for a fool, Thomas. When I said I would bury you if you harmed Maddie, you didn’t believe me and tried it, anyway. Now I get to make good on my promise.”
Abruptly, he released his brother and stepped back, taking several deep breaths to get a grip on his chaotic emotions. He slipped into the abandoned armchair and smoothed his trousers. “Please sit,” he told his brother, gesturing to the chair behind the desk.
Thomas’s gaze grew wary, but he adjusted his clothing and sat down. “This is family business. Why is he here?” He jerked his chin toward Preston, who stood glowering near the door, his arms folded across his chest.
“He’s here to make sure I don’t kill you.”
Preston gave a toothy smile that had caused men to piss themselves in the past. Harrison had witnessed it firsthand.
“This is ridiculous,” Thomas said. “I haven’t done anything wrong.”
Harrison continued, ignoring his brother’s denial. “Here’s what is going to happen. I am selling the Fifth Avenue house, as is my right considering I now hold the deed. I expect you to vacate before the end of the week.”
Thomas gasped. “You cannot do that—”
“Furthermore, I have called for an emergency board meeting in”—he checked his pocket watch—“one hour, during which the board will pass a no-confidence vote in you as president and install me as the new president.”
The color drained from his brother’s face. “Harrison, don’t do this. It’s not fair to me or my family. Where will we live? Think of my wife, my children. Mother. That is our home.”
“You should have thought of that before you sent those flowers to my wife.”
“Let us have the Newport house, then,” Thomas said. “It is the least you can do.”
“The least I can do?” Harrison’s lip curled. “I don’t owe you a damn thing. What about all those times when we were boys and you caused trouble, only to blame it on me? Was that the least you could do, Thomas?”
His brother’s throat worked as he swallowed. “That’s not true.”
“We both know it is. You found it easier if father’s wrath was aimed at me, not you. It was easier for you to be the perfect brother and leave me as the evil one. So do not presume to tell me what I should do. I owe you nothing.”
“We will take you to court, if necessary.”
“Please do.” Harrison steepled his fingers, giving Thomas a smug smile. “Because I would love to tell everyone about how our dear father used to abuse the female staff . . . and how you knew and did nothing about it. What do you think the papers would say about that?”
Thomas shook his head. “I would deny it and you would look like a petty second son.”
So Thomas had known. Christ, the dark, twisted history of this family. Harrison wanted nothing more to do with them. Rising, he straightened his cuffs. “See you in an hour, brother.” Turning, he started for the door.
“Harrison, listen,” Thomas called from behind him. “I am begging you. Not for myself, but for my family. My wife and children, who will have nowhere to go if you carry this out.”
Harrison stopped and glared over his shoulder at his brother. “You have your stock dividends. Your wife has relatives. Be resourceful, man. Or do what I did when I went to Paris: get a job.”
“You’re a bastard, Harrison,” Thomas spat hastily. “You are just as devious and hard-hearted as our father. We’re from the same stock, you and I. So do not presume to act like you’re better than me.”
“Wrong. I am nothing like the rest of you.” He gestured to the interior of the office. “I’d pack up, were I you. Once I take over today, I’ll have you arrested if you step a foot inside this building again.”
Preston opened the door and the two of them walked out. Harrison nodded at Thomas’s secretary. “Mr. Archer has a board meeting in an hour. See that he’s all packed up by then, if you please.” The secretary said nothing, merely stared up at him with wide eyes.
When Harrison and Preston were alone in the elevator, Preston said, “I’ve never seen your brother so scared.” He chuckled. “‘Get a job.’ I thought his head was going to pop off when you said that.”
Harrison was not yet in a laughing mood. His muscles were clenched tight, rage coursing through his system. The thought of anyone hurting Maddie or distracting her before this tournament made him want to tear down the city, brick by brick. No matter what else happened, he could not let the Archers destroy her chances of winning in Philadelphia. He’d never forgive himself if something happened.
Looking at Preston, he said, “I want the names of the men you mentioned, the ones who guard for hire.”
Preston sobered. “You think she’s in that much danger?”
“I won’t risk it. He has nothing to lose now. It makes him dangerous.”
“It certainly can’t hurt, as long as Maddie agrees to being shadowed.”
Harrison frowned. “I don’t want her to know. I convinced her the flowers were a mistake this morning. The tournament is too close and she shouldn’t be worried about her safety. She needs to focus on winning.”
The elevator opened onto the bottom floor and they started for the exit. “Harrison, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. After everything you’ve hidden from her, are you sure you want to do this?”
His temples throbbing, Harrison contemplated Preston’s words. Not telling her might make her angry later, but there was a good chance she’d never know. And informing her of a threat might prevent her from performing well at the tournament.
No, he wouldn’t tell her. He would keep her safe throughout the tournament, then reassess the need for security. More than likely, it wouldn’t be necessary.
“Just give me the names. I’ll hire them to stay out of her sight until after the tournament is over.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
A knock sounded on Maddie’s bedroom door. She’d just finished packing for her journey to Philadelphia tonight and her body buzzed with anticipation and nerves. She’d likely spend the rest of the afternoon prowling around the house and avoiding thoughts of tennis.
It was not an easy thing, considering this was the most important tournament to which she’d ever been invited. Every top female player would be there, all vying for the championship.
; Dragging in a deep breath, she called, “Come in.”
Her husband appeared, a giant box in his arms. “Hello, wife. Have you finished packing?”
“Yes, just now. What’s that?”
“A gift. To bring you luck, I hope.” He placed the box on the bed and kissed her cheek. “Go on. Open it up.”
Lips curving into a small smile, she reached for the card affixed to the top of the box. The logo of her favorite sporting goods company was embossed on the front. Harrison’s handwriting filled the back.
My Dearest Maddie,
Win or lose, I couldn’t be prouder of you.
See you in Philadelphia.
All my love,
Harrison
The sentiment sent warmth cascading through her body, a rush of longing and affection that only Harrison could elicit in her. He hadn’t spoken of love, however, not until now. Did he love her? The past few nights had been utter bliss, and she wished he was coming with her to Philadelphia tonight instead of waiting a few days.
Shaking off her musings, she tugged at the strings on the box and opened it. Inside was a new lawn tennis racket, four balls and a pair of white tennis shoes. Like her existing shoes, these were completely flat with a rubber sole.
“I wasn’t sure what you needed, so I bought a bit of everything,” her husband said.
Turning, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pressed up against him, soaking in his strength and fortitude. “Thank you, Harrison. This was very sweet of you.”
He kissed her softly, a gentle but thorough meeting of their mouths, almost as if he were trying to reassure her or imprint her lips with his. She needed the distraction, the mind-numbing desire that swamped her every time he pulled her close. The kiss settled and relaxed her, and she felt herself leaning heavily against him after a few minutes.
When they pulled apart, he stared down at her, his expression soft. “There. Between that kiss and waking up with you this morning, that should hold me over until I see you in a few days.”
