A SEAL's Struggle

by Cora Seton

  “Where are you staying?” Win asked in surprise.

  “In Walker’s tiny house. I wasn’t going to sleep in the bunkhouse after what Walker did.”

  “We’d better get back to our chores,” Riley said. She and Nora kept going, leaving the two of them alone with the camera crew.

  “Have you really given up on him?” Win asked tentatively as she followed Avery past the bunkhouse toward the cluster of little houses built into the side of the hill nearby.

  “I don’t know.” Avery shrugged. “Honestly. I just don’t know. I loved him so much for so long. I was so patient—and he believed the worst of me without even questioning where his information was coming from. Meanwhile, he’s been waiting on some other woman. He still is. He hasn’t explained who she is, or what she means to him, or what he’ll do if she holds him to whatever promise they made each other.”

  “Or his grandmother made for him,” Win corrected her as they reached Walker’s house and Avery opened the door. “I’ve watched all the episodes several times,” she explained when Avery turned to her questioningly. “In one of them Walker’s grandmother says he’s promised to someone else. Not that he promised himself to someone else.”

  Avery just shook her head, ushering Win inside. “Does it really make a difference in the end?”

  “Maybe. Don’t give up until you know for sure.” Win took in the half-finished interior. Avery must have really wanted out of the bunkhouse to set up camp here, but at least it was private, and they were both used to sleeping on the floor, after all. Win wasn’t looking forward to that. Her first trimester had gone smoothly after only a few days of morning sickness, which she’d been able to cover up as stress-induced when the housekeeper caught her throwing up one morning. Since then her belly had grown, and now the baby was big enough that sleeping was sometimes uncomfortable. She liked to prop herself up with pillows. Would she be able to find enough to do that here?

  Avery was silent a moment. “Well, I don’t think you should give up, either, so I guess we’re even.” She fished something out of her pocket. “He’s giving me gifts.”

  “Angus?”

  Avery made a face. “You know darn well I’m talking about Walker.”

  “What kind of gifts?”

  There was a knock on the door, and when Avery opened it, Boone stood outside, a thin pallet, pillow and sleeping bag in his hands. “Here you go.” He handed them to Avery. “Look, Win. About that backup bride. I’m sorry—”

  Avery slammed the door in his face. “Where were we?” she asked Win without skipping a beat. She crossed to the living room and dumped the bedding on the floor.

  Win nearly laughed. Nearly. She couldn’t quite pull it off even if she heard chuckles behind her from the camera crew who’d followed them inside. “Gifts.”

  “Oh, right. Yesterday it was rabbit fur mittens. Today it was a rock.” She fished it out of her pocket.

  “A rock?”

  “It’s a pretty rock,” Avery admitted, holding it up.

  It was. “Looks like agate,” Win said. “What did he say when he gave it to you?”

  “Walker? Give me a break, you think he actually said something?” She pocketed the rock again, unrolled the mat, arranged the sleeping bag on top of it, scooped up the pillow, plumped it a little and added it to the makeshift bed. “The world could end before you got a peep out of him.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I told him it was cold and hard, like his heart.”

  “He’s trying,” Win pointed out.

  “Not nearly enough,” Avery said firmly. She straightened. “So, you and Angus.”

  “Me and Angus,” Win repeated. “God, it’s going to be hell watching him date someone else.” She didn’t even want to think about it, especially after how he’d reacted when she’d told him about her parents’ threat to disown her. He thought all she cared about was money, and that wasn’t true.

  “I’ll be the one doing that next, I suppose. Watching Walker with someone else,” Avery said.

  “Maybe. Maybe not,” Win said. “Not if he’s showering you with gifts.”

  “He’s showering me with rocks,” Avery retorted. “Rest a bit,” she added. “It’ll be lunchtime soon enough.” She returned to the kitchen, got herself a glass of water and poured one for Win as well, then climbed the ladder to the loft sleeping area, where Win figured she’d stored most of her things.

  Win appreciated the chance to catch her breath, but as she nudged the sleeping mat nearer to the windows, her phone buzzed. Win looked at it, even though she knew she wouldn’t answer. Her mother.

  Nope. She had nothing to say to Vienna.

  There was another knock on the door.

  “Go away, Boone,” Avery called out from her loft, but when the door opened, Renata walked in.

  Win smiled to see her dressed in a Regency gown like the other women at Base Camp. The director used to favor highly tailored clothing in the current fashion. Everyone had been terrified of her probing questions when she first arrived, but Win had gathered from watching the show that over the last few months she’d transformed. Now that she had married Greg, it looked like she’d gone all in on joining the community.

  “Congratulations,” Win told her. “I can’t wait to see footage of your wedding on the next episode. You shouldn’t be working; you got married last night!”

  “No one gets a honeymoon around here,” Renata said dryly. “You gave us terrific footage for the end of this week’s episode, though, with your dramatic return.”

  “I aim to please.”

  Avery popped her head over the edge of the loft. “Hi, Renata—what’s it like to be an old married woman?”

  “It’s pretty damn nice when you’re married to Greg.” Renata’s features softened with her smile. “Can’t believe we really did it.”

  “Congratulations again.”

  Renata turned back to Win. “You’re right; I’m not really working yet, and you’ve been in the hospital, so we’ll take it easy on you for the moment, but you know you’re going to get a lot of scrutiny during the next forty days, right?”

  “Can’t you focus on that backup bride?” Win moved to get Renata a drink. There was nowhere to sit, so they both remained standing.

  “Oh, we will for sure,” Renata said. “But we’re going to focus on you, too. Which means you’ll want to let all your skeletons out of the closet before we shake them out.”

  “Skeletons? That sounds intriguing,” Avery said from her high perch.

  Win stilled. What did Renata mean by that? How much did she know? Was she talking about the way her mother had lied about her illness? Or was she talking about the past?

  Win hated the past.

  “Got it,” she said to Renata.

  “Good. See you at lunch.” Renata left and closed the door behind her.

  “Do you really have skeletons?” Avery asked.

  “My father is running for reelection,” Win conceded, unwilling to admit to anything else while being filmed. “And he’s got his eye on the governor’s mansion.”

  “Ooh, politics. That’s always good for controversy.”

  “You’ve got that right.”

  Chapter Six

  ‡

  “We need to switch places,” Angus said to Walker when he found him in the barn. Boone had brought him home to shower and change before they left again to meet his backup bride at a restaurant in town. That gave him just enough time to try to get out of it altogether. “Win just came back, and now I’m supposed to hover around this Leslie person? No way!”

  “Angus—what are you up to? You’re supposed to be getting ready!” Boone hurried into the barn. Angus ignored him.

  “Walker? Come on, man.”

  “Can’t,” Walker said. “Not until April thirteenth.” He was bent over a saddle, giving it a good polish. Angus would have liked to have this conversation face to face.

  “The day after my wedding? That’s convenient,”
he growled.

  “What’s happening on April thirteenth?” Boone demanded.

  Walker shrugged. “Family stuff.”

  Angus gave a long-suffering sigh. “That is such baloney. You’ve been milking your family obligation to marry some woman since the beginning of the show. You’ve kept Avery on tenterhooks all this time, and now you’re messing with me. I can’t squire around some strange woman right now. What if Win leaves again?”

  “If you think she might leave, maybe it’s better to get it over with,” Boone countered. “If we’re going to win this, she has to stay.”

  “I don’t know what she might do!” Angus hadn’t meant to let that out, but his mind was all over the place. She was here, which was good, but she’d hidden his baby from him, which was really bad. She’d gone to California to help her mother, which he could understand, but she’d decided without consulting him that the best thing was for him to marry someone else—and now she was back again, without much of an explanation for what had changed her mind.

  “Well, you drew the short straw fair and square,” Boone said firmly, “which means you marry next. Walker has nothing to do with it.”

  Walker half turned and shrugged. “It’ll be my turn soon enough. Won’t be easy for me, either.”

  Angus didn’t buy that at all. “You’ve planned this all along, haven’t you? To be last. Why?” If he hadn’t spent months living in close quarters with the man, he might not have caught the split-second of consternation in Walker’s eyes, but Angus had, and he did. “I’m right! You did plan it!”

  “How could he plan it? I’m the one who did the straws—most of the time.” Boone’s brows furrowed.

  He was seeing it, too. At least once, Walker had been the one who’d held the straws. Had he manipulated the game somehow?

  Why?

  “April thirteenth,” Walker said again, more forcibly this time. “It’ll be settled.”

  “It better be,” Angus told him. “Don’t make me go through all this crap for nothing.”

  Win stuck close to Avery when they went to the bunkhouse to have lunch. Other people stopped by to say hello, but everyone’s greetings were reserved. They were all waiting to see what she did, Win supposed. Waiting to see if she stayed—or took off again.

  Walker sat some distance away through the meal, his gaze on Avery. Avery ignored him. When she and Win finished eating and got up to take their dishes to the kitchen, Avery swore under her breath. “Here we go again.”

  “What?” But Win realized what she meant when she saw Walker coming toward them, a tall, carved stick in his hand.

  “You think he’s going to try to beat some sense into me?”

  Win didn’t get to answer that before Walker reached them. “For you,” he said stoically and handed her the gift.

  “A walking stick?” Avery took it and made a show of examining it. The thing was quite lovely, Win saw. A work of art the way it was carved. Avery was angry, though. “Do you think being without you has aged me?” Her voice rose, and everyone turned to look.

  A muscle in Walker’s jaw jumped, but he didn’t answer, just held Avery’s gaze until hers dropped and she colored. “Fine, I’ll take it. Win, you want to help me with the animals, or will you work in the greenhouses?”

  “The greenhouses,” Win told her. “I’ll be fine,” she added when Avery hesitated. “Really.”

  “Okay. Find me if you need me.” Avery crossed the room to the door, disappearing through it a moment later.

  Walker watched her go.

  Win’s impatience got the best of her. “She doesn’t want gifts,” she said to him. “She wants you to talk to her.” She left, too, grabbing her jacket before heading outside, although she barely needed it.

  Her phone rang, and she pulled it out and took the call before she realized that was probably a mistake.

  “What?” she said.

  “Win? Where are you? Are you okay?” Her mother’s frantic voice filled her ear, leaving Win to wonder for a moment if she’d been wrong—if Vienna really was ill and missed her—

  No. She wasn’t wrong. She’d seen the photo.

  Win considered hanging up. Decided she’d better have this out.

  “I’m fine, now that I’m away from you. I can’t believe you lied about having cancer. I can’t believe you set up that whole thing to try to stop me from marrying Angus.”

  There was a long pause. When Vienna spoke again, her tone was matter of fact.

  “Well, you couldn’t have loved him very much. You got on the next plane when I gave you an ultimatum.”

  Stunned that her mother didn’t even try to deny her charges, Win searched for an answer. “You are out of your mind. You pretended to be sick for six months!”

  “It’s not my fault your farmer never drew the damn short straw,” her mother retorted. “I thought it would be a month or two. Now I’ve wasted half a year!”

  Win couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  “I can see what’s going to happen even if you can’t,” Vienna kept going. “You know your presence on that show is complicating things for your father. You’re choosing that bunch of know-nothings over us. You’re refusing to help us even though we’ve always helped you when you needed it. Well, I’ll tell you something. Someday you’ll need us, and we won’t be there for you.”

  “That’s the most manipulative thing you’ve said yet,” Win exclaimed. “I never threatened to withdraw my love or my support if you didn’t follow my orders.”

  “This isn’t an order. This is me trying to save your ass. That man isn’t right for you. He won’t be there when you need him. You wait and see—I guarantee he’ll let you down sooner or later. You know I’d never do that.”

  “Why do I have to choose between you?” Win couldn’t comprehend the conversation they were having. Her mother should be begging her forgiveness. Instead she was acting like Win was the one who’d lost her mind.

  “Because Angus’s goals and our goals are completely opposed to each other.”

  “You mean his goal of saving the world?” How had she not seen who her mother was before she came to Base Camp? All Vienna cared about was power.

  “The world can take care of itself,” Vienna snapped. “Someday you’ll learn that the hard way.”

  “I need to go. I’ve got work to do here.”

  “Here? Where’s here?”

  Win laughed. Was she for real? “Where do you think? Base Camp.”

  “You went back there?” Win could almost see her pacing.

  “This is where I belong.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  Vienna hung up. Win breathed a sigh of relief and turned toward the greenhouses. Time to get to work, she figured. Time to prove she meant to stay.

  “Here’s your table, sir.”

  Angus nodded to the cheerful waitress and took a seat at an intimate table for two near the rear of DelMonacos, a steak house where he was to have his first meeting with Leslie. Byron had been put in charge of filming the encounter. He was the youngest member of the crew, but he’d matured a lot since he’d come to Base Camp, and it seemed that Renata had come to trust his judgment. As he worked to set up his equipment, Angus ordered a beer and tried to get his thoughts in order. The last thing he wanted was to meet with another woman when he couldn’t budge his thoughts from Win.

  Around him, other patrons of the restaurant cast curious glances at him and the cameras, but soon they turned back to their meals. The Base Camp cast and crew were regulars at town affairs, and most people had gotten used to them. Still, their surreptitious looks unnerved him. One older woman some three tables away sharing a meal with a younger tawny-haired man was ogling him with unabashed interest.

  “… Angus McBride,” he thought he heard her say.

  This meal was going to be downright awkward.

  “Angus?”

  A chipper voice interrupted his thoughts, and Angus stood up, towering over a petite blonde he reco
gnized from the photograph Boone had shown him.

  “Leslie?”

  “That’s me.” She smiled, noticed Byron with his camera, and her smile broadened. She waved at him. “Hi!”

  “You’re not supposed to talk to me,” Byron told her, but he was grinning at her enthusiasm.

  “Sorry!”

  “Don’t worry about it.”

  “How about you take a seat?” Angus’s trepidation grew. This was all he needed; someone else as dauntingly cheery as Byron was. The cameraman had chattered the whole drive into town until Angus told him to put a lid on it. Normally he wouldn’t have minded, but after everything that had happened during the last twenty-four hours, he was on edge.

  “Thank you.” Leslie sat down across from him. Folded her hands and said, “All of us backup brides were happy that you conceded to our requests.”

  Requests? More like demands, from the way Boone had told the story.

  “Why don’t you tell me all about yourself so we can get acquainted,” Leslie went on. She still seemed far younger to him that her stated twenty-six years. She was fresh-faced, with the kind of country innocence you used to see in Hollywood musicals. He wondered if she was for real or if it was some kind of act.

  “I was born in Scotland,” he began.

  “Where in Scotland? Do you have siblings? Did you live in a little village or a bigger town? I love your accent. Did you grow up farming? Do they have farms there?”

  Angus blinked. Waited to see if she was done. She waved him on, but as he opened his mouth to speak, her gaze slid sideways to Byron and his camera.

  “Don’t look this way,” Byron admonished her.

  “Sorry!” She grinned at him. Grinned at Angus. “So?”

  He’d lost track of all her questions. “I was born in Scotland,” he repeated. “On a farm. Near the west coast.”

  “How long did you live there? Are there ranches like Westfield there? Do you guys have a president or a parliamentary system, and how does Great Britain work? Are you three countries with one government? Or three countries with three governments but one main government, or—”