by Dani Wade
Just as she turned back to face the others, Nolen appeared at the end of the hallway. The old butler’s eyes carried more than their share of worry as he approached, but he didn’t say anything. He probably knew every detail of what had transpired in James Blackstone’s suite this afternoon. Somehow, he and Marie always knew.
From behind her, Canton’s voice rang clear. “It’s early still. We can go down to the probate judge’s office now and get the paperwork started. You can be married within a week.”
Nolen frowned back at the lawyer, his glower making her feel cared for, protected. It was a rare occurrence for her—she was used to being the protector—making it that much more appreciated. Her heart swelled, aching with love and worry of her own. She slowly shook her head as she turned to face the men. “I need to think. Some time to think.” She struggled to clear her clouded thoughts. “And I need to check on Lily.”
“She’s fine with Nicole,” Nolen said, extending his elbow so she could take his arm. Old-fashioned to the core. Her muscles relaxed; her smile appeared. He smiled back. “But we’ll stop by if it will ease your mind.”
Resigning herself to his help because she knew it would soothe his concern, she slipped her hand into the crook of his arm. They crossed the landing to the other suite of rooms on the second floor. With a deep breath, Christina paused to look back over her shoulder. “Aiden, will you come see Lily?”
He watched her from several feet away, hooded lids at half-mast, hiding the only thing that would showcase his emotions. “Later,” he said, short and definitely not sweet. But his still features didn’t tell her whether he simply couldn’t face his mother or simply didn’t care. He turned to Canton. “I’m not going anywhere until I’ve looked over those papers and talked to my own lawyer.”
With a short nod, Canton moved to the stairs and started down. Aiden followed, his stiff back forcefully cutting off any approach.
Nolen harrumphed in disapproval, but Christina ignored him. Maybe she was imagining the loneliness in that brief look from Aiden, but he seemed cloaked in an aura of solitude. With a quiet knock, Nolen let them into Lily’s suite, leaving the mystery of Aiden behind her.
Here, filtered sunlight illuminated lavender-flowered wallpaper and a slightly darker carpet, the soft decor far removed from the oppressive majesty of the opposite suite. The tranquility soothed Christina’s shaky nerves. They passed through a sitting room with the television turned low to the sleeping area beyond.
Nicole, the housekeeper’s grandniece, sat in the overstuffed chair by the adjustable bed James had specially ordered. She looked up from the thick nursing textbook in her lap.
“Come to check on her?” Nicole asked.
Christina nodded. “How’s she doing?”
“Oh, the storm did neither of us any good, but after I did her exercises, she settled right down.” Nicole flashed a toothy smile, bright against her tanned skin. “Her vitals are normal, so she’s resting fine now. Still a little spooky, though, seeing her respond like that.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised at the stories nurses have about comatose patients. It’s a very interesting area of study.” Christina should know; she’d studied every case history, textbook explanation and word-of-mouth example she’d been able to get her hands on. The stroke damage had healed; still, Lily had not come back to them.
“You’re gonna make a wonderful nurse someday, Nicole,” Nolen said, beaming as if she were his own grandchild.
“Yes, you are,” Christina agreed. She’d encouraged Nicole from the moment the girl had come around asking questions about Christina’s duties. Now the young woman was a nursing student at the university forty minutes away and helped Christina with Lily on certain nights and weekends.
Christina went through the motions of checking Lily’s pulse while Nicole and Nolen quietly discussed some problems she’d had with her car this week.
Christina laid her hand on Lily’s forehead, noting the normal temperature, and scanned the monitors beeping nearby through habit. But there, the professionalism ended. She leaned closer to Lily’s ear.
“He’s home, Lily.” She sighed. “He doesn’t like it, but for now, he’s here. I’ll bring him to see you soon.”
There was no indication that Lily had heard, just the beeps of the monitors. Lily’s thin, pale features never moved; her eyes never opened. But Christina had to believe she was happy to know her son was back under Blackstone Manor’s roof. She wouldn’t be happy about her father’s machinations, though. To force two people to marry... Christina shivered as she remembered the feel of Aiden’s intense gaze penetrating the thin veneer with which she protected her emotions.
The housekeeper’s arrival drew her from her thoughts. “So what’s this I hear about a wedding?” Marie asked, marching in, still dressed in the apron printed with the words “I make this kitchen hotter” the sixty-five-year-old wore whenever she knew James wouldn’t catch her.
Christina wanted to groan. How had the news spread through the house so fast? Sometimes she thought the staff had the place bugged.
“It’s more of a business agreement than a wedding,” Christina said, a slight wave of dizziness rushing over her at the thought. “If there is a wedding...” She wasn’t entirely sure Aiden would go through with it, once that hot streak of defiance cooled. Could she, if it gave her the legal right to protect Lily?
But she couldn’t share a bed with him. Surely, they could get around that part....
“It’s unnatural, is what it is,” Nolen interjected. “Two strangers entering into something as sacred as marriage.”
“And those words of wisdom brought to you by a lifelong bachelor.” Marie grinned. “Besides, they aren’t strangers. They’ve known each other since they were kids.”
There were flutters of panic in Christina’s chest as she remembered that last face-to-face meeting with a seventeen-year-old Aiden. She’d mooned over him from afar every time she came to visit Blackstone Manor. Sometimes the hope of seeing him had drawn her just as much as Lily’s company, but that day had taught her well how little he felt for her. Whenever she’d come near him, he’d demonstrated the same unpleasant endurance as her parents, who also looked at her as a pest that they wished would disappear. He’d called her invader many times over the years she’d hung around, aching for a bit of Lily’s attention. Yes, that was definitely how he’d seen her time here at Blackstone Manor. After that final rejection, she’d stayed as far away from Aiden Blackstone as possible.
Nolen wasn’t letting this go. “It is unnatural, I’m tellin’ you. This isn’t a good thing. James is manipulating them, and Aiden, his own grandson, into marrying for his own damnable purposes.”
“And what purposes would those be?” Marie asked, her hands going to her hips.
Christina’s mouth was already open, but Nolen spoke first. “Building some god-awful legacy. As if he hasn’t introduced enough unpleasantness into this world. He threatened his own daughter if they didn’t do what he wanted.”
“Oh, I bet that’s all talk.” Marie looked sideways at Christina with a worried frown pulling all her wrinkles in a southern direction. “Is this true? Is he forcing you into something you don’t want?”
This was getting way out of hand—and way more personal than Christina wanted. “No. I volunteered. And nothing has been decided yet.” But I will take care of Lily—and all of you.
Marie went on, her frown softening a little. “Maybe our Christina is exactly what Aiden needs right now. These things happen for a reason, I do believe.”
Christina’s heart melted with Marie’s sugar-scented hug, but she doubted anything she did would soften the hardened heart of the Blackstone heir.
“You never know what might happen in a year,” Marie said with a sly smile. “Besides, family takes care of their own. She’ll be fine here with us.”
This conversation was almost unbelievable. If Christina hadn’t been in James’s room, she wouldn’t have believed the situation herself.
Christina’s mind echoed with Marie’s words. A year was a short time in some ways, a long time in others. Would she come out on the other side whole? Or with a broken heart to go with her divorce decree?
As long as Lily and the rest of her family were safe and cared for, it would be worth it for Christina. Marie was right. These people were her family, as close as she’d come to having one since her parents had divorced when she was eight. Who was she kidding? Her family had never been real.
As a child, Christina’s sole purpose in life had been as a pawn in her mother’s strategy to extort more and more money from her father. That’s where Christina had learned what two-faced meant—her mother all lovey-dovey when Dad showed up, abandoning her at her society friends’ houses when she was no longer useful. A hard lesson, but Christina had learned it well.
She’d promised herself when she’d turned eighteen that she’d never go back to that kind of situation; never again have no value outside of what she could do for another.
So was she truly willing to become James Blackstone’s pawn?
* * *
“When are you heading back? That Zabinski woman is killing me.”
He didn’t want to think about Ellen Zabinski right now. He had enough problems on his hands. After a solid twenty-four hours of thinking, Aiden knew what he had to do. He still didn’t want to, but this choice was inevitable.
“I’m not.”
The dead silence would have been amusing if Aiden wasn’t in such a bind. His assistant Trisha’s silence was as rare as some of the art he imported. While he waited for her to recover, he paced across his bedroom to gaze out the back window. He compared the view of the lush country yard, the gentle sway of the grass and tree branches in the breeze, with the constant motion of the city. The very sereneness made him want to fall asleep. Not in a good way. Why would he consider uprooting his busy life, even if it was only for a few months?
A myriad of reasons not to do this rambled through his mind—work, taking a stand against his grandfather’s high-handedness, a lack of interest in the mill and a whole host of other things. Then his gaze fell on the chestnut-haired beauty strolling across the lawn to talk to the gardener. Christina smiled, stealing his breath. Her stride was sure, and those hips... As she spoke, her hands gestured with elegant grace to illustrate her words.
He should be worried about his mom—not her nurse. But as Christina looked up into the fifty-year-old weeping willow in the backyard, exposing the vulnerable skin of her throat, Aiden’s mouth watered.
When Trisha finally spoke again, her words were slow and measured. “What’s going on?”
“Let’s just say, I will be stuck cleaning up family business for a while.”
She wasn’t buying that. “How long can it take to get the ball rolling on the estate? He had a will, right? Why would that require you to be on-site?”
“Yes, he had a will, but that’s not really helpful since he isn’t dead.”
A single bout of silence from Trisha was a surprise. Twice in one conversation—a miracle. But she came back with her usual snarky humor.
“So are you trying to talk me into moving to the wilds of South Carolina? Marty wouldn’t care much for that.”
Just the thought of Italian-born-and-bred Antonio Martinelli in Black Hills was enough to brighten Aiden’s day. “No, as amusing as that would be, I was thinking more along the lines of giving you an assistant and a raise.”
Make that three spells of silence, although the pause was much shorter this time. “Don’t tease me, Aiden.”
“I’m not kidding,” he said, feeling as if he should raise his hand in a scout-style salute. “You’ve worked hard, sharpened your own sales skills. I’m gonna need help to pull this off. We can do a lot by conference call and video chats, and I’ll make a trip up there when necessary. But the majority of first contact and sales will fall on you.”
Aiden ignored the surge of misery at the thought of being away from his business for long. But he wouldn’t be out of contact. And he would not lose the gem it had cost him years of his life to build.
“It’s only temporary,” he assured his assistant and himself. “Just until I can get legal custody of Mother.” But watching until Christina disappeared from sight, Aiden knew his motives weren’t nearly that noble.
Turning away, he gave Trisha a brief rundown of his grandfather’s demands.
“Whoa,” she said. “And I thought Italian-American grandparents were demanding. That’s crazy. Why would you go through with that?”
“At least a wife will give me a weapon against Ellen,” he said, making light of his current struggle. Shivers erupted just thinking about the barracuda with whom he’d mildly enjoyed his customary night, only to have her decide once wasn’t enough. She’d spent the last month making his life miserable. “How often has she called the office?” Aiden had blocked her from his cell phone.
“Oh, every afternoon like clockwork. She doesn’t believe that you aren’t here. I’m just waiting for her to show up in person and force me to pull out my pepper spray.”
There was way too much glee in his assistant’s voice. “Don’t get arrested.”
“I won’t...if she behaves herself—”
Doubtful. But Trisha handled most situations with tact—even if she talked tough. “Do whatever you have to do. Maybe me being out of town for several months will help. In the meantime, you can forward client calls to my cell.”
They talked a few more logistics, and Aiden promised to be in touch daily. Balancing two businesses in two different states would not be a walk in the park, but he was determined to hold on to whatever he could in New York.
His grandfather might take his freedom, but he would not destroy everything Aiden had worked so hard to build.
Three
Aiden’s uncharacteristic urge to curse like a sailor was starting to irritate him. As he snatched one of the cookies Marie had left cooling on the kitchen counter, he contemplated the grim facts. His lawyer hadn’t found a way around the legal knots James had tied. There wasn’t evidence to have him declared mentally unstable. He was, but then he’d always been. If jackassery could be considered a mental condition. And any legal proceedings to steal guardianship of his mother would take too long. Aiden wasn’t willing to chance his mother’s health and well-being. He owed her too much.
So his bad mood was justified, but when he found himself stomping up the narrow back staircase from the kitchen, the taste of chocolate chip cookie lingering on his tongue, he knew it was time to get himself under control. After all, he wasn’t a schoolboy or angst-ridden teen. He was a man capable of engineering million-dollar art deals. He could handle one obstinate grandfather and a soon-to-be bride—but only with a cool head.
As a distraction, his mind drifted to other days blessed with warm cookies, spent playing hide-and-seek or sword-wielding pirates on these dark stairs. The perfect atmosphere for little-boy secrets and make-believe. He and his brothers had also used them to disappear when their grandfather came looking for them. He’d often been on a terror about something or other. They’d sneak down and out the kitchen door for a quick escape.
Aiden stretched his mouth into a grim smile as he rounded a particularly tight bend. Escape was something he’d always excelled at. Except with Ellen Zabinski.
He didn’t hear the footsteps until too late. He’d barely looked up before colliding with someone coming down the stairs. A soft someone who emitted a little squeal as she stumbled. Certain they’d fall, Aiden surged forward to keep from losing his balance. Christina tried to pull back, but her momentum worked against her. Hands flailed, finding purchase on his shoulders. Her front crushed to his. Their weig
ht pressed dead against each other, stabilizing as two became one.
Everything froze for Aiden, as if his very cells locked down. He managed one strangled breath, filled with the fresh scent of her hair, before his body sprang to life. Her soft curves and sexy smell urged him to pull her closer, so much so that his fingers tightened against the rounded curves of her denim-covered hips. The soft flesh gave beneath his grip.
He’d been without a woman for far too long. That had to be why he was so off balance. His strict adherence to his “no attachments” rule had led to a lifetime of brief encounters. His last choice had been a wrong one, a woman who wasn’t happy when he walked out the door the next morning. It had soured him on any woman since.
Darkness permeated the staircase, heightening the illusion of intimacy. His and Christina’s accelerated breaths were the only sound between them. They were so close, he felt the slight tremor that raced over her echo throughout his entire body. It took more minutes than Aiden cared to admit for his mind to kick into gear.
“Dreamed up more ways to invade my territory, Christina?”
He felt her stiffen against his palms, tension replacing that delicious softness. Just as he’d intended.
Before he could regret anything, she retreated, stabilizing herself with a hand against the wall. “Aiden,” she said, prim disapproval not hiding a hint of breathlessness, “I’m sorry for not seeing you.”
I’m not.
“And for the record, I’m not invading anything. So I’d thank you to never call me by that stupid nickname.”
It was a sign of his own childhood needs that he’d resented the attention she’d received here at Blackstone Manor when they were kids, enough to tease her with his invader tag. There had been times he’d felt as if she had invaded their chaotic life, garnering what little positive attention there was to go around. How he’d resented that. To the point that, one hot summer afternoon, he’d spoken harsh words he’d always regret.
