But even more concerning was what could happen if the reason for their grandfather’s secrecy turned out to be some scandal. Miranda disliked airing personal business in front of Laura Granger, but as Victoria had chosen to collude with the woman…
“Mother doesn’t need this sort of stress right now. Neither does Father. His opponents will be looking for anything they can find to crucify him with. Even some old mystery. If Mother wanted to talk to Aunt Suzanne, don’t you think she’d pick up the phone and call her?”
Laura shook her head, her hospitality-perfect expression fading behind a thoughtful look. “I don’t. I think our moms are behaving exactly like they’ve been expected to behave.”
“As who’s expecting them to behave?” Troy didn’t give Miranda a chance to ask as he leaned in close.
“The senator,” Laura said. “When he and my mom had it out all those years ago, he told her to choose between her family and my father. She made her choice, and he disowned her. They were very young and the situation was cut-and-dried. He expected my mom to stay away and Miranda and Tori’s mom not have any contact. That’s exactly what they’ve been doing.”
Victoria finally lifted her gaze from the monitor where their mother’s face stared back with that haunted expression. “I’m not convinced that’s what they want. Look at Mother, Miranda. If this is really what she wanted, would she hurt like this after so many years?”
“You’re not a mind-reader, Victoria. You can’t know that’s what’s happening here.”
“No, I can’t,” she agreed. “But I don’t need to be inside her head to know she’s lonely and sad. Isn’t it worth at least a shot? With you living across the country, and me moving to Las Vegas, wouldn’t you feel better knowing she has someone she cares about in her life again?”
Miranda wasn’t sure what surprised her more—her sister’s conviction or her insight into their mother’s situation. She’d honestly thought Victoria didn’t pay attention to what went on in their family. But looking at her sister now…well, she could see that Victoria cared.
Unfortunately caring didn’t mean her sister would act in a fashion that wouldn’t stir up talk about the family, and getting a Ford and a Granger together would stir up talk. “Do you think Grandfather will just smile and wish them well?”
“I don’t know what Grandfather will do. But I’m willing to bet if this family bands together, Mother and Aunt Suzanne won’t have to spend the rest of their lives pretending they don’t want to see each other to please a selfish old man.”
Her vehemence left Miranda momentarily speechless, giving Laura a chance to stand and circle the desk. “I don’t want to see your family in an awkward position. But I think Tori’s right about this. If we pull together, we can change things. We’ve all been acting how we were expected to act. You and I are living proof.”
Troy squeezed her hand and she knew he was gauging her reaction, but she wouldn’t give any of them a reaction.
Trying to bridge the rift between their families could only stir up trouble, and that’s not what she wanted for her mother right now. This craziness would only wind up ticking off their grandfather once and for all, getting Victoria disowned, and then her mother would have to contend with splitting her loyalties between her father and daughter. And Miranda would be clear across the country and not much help.
“What are you talking about, Laura?” she asked. “We’re proof of what?”
“I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching lately.” Laura sounded thoughtful. “When I think about our years at Westfalls, I realize I didn’t dislike you because of who you were. I honestly never made an effort to know you. But I hated being compared to you and always coming out on the short end.”
As much as Miranda hated to admit it, she could relate. Their families were as different as caviar and peanut butter, and being from the caviar side might have afforded her the benefits of wealth and privilege, but along with those benefits came some responsibilities. Public visibility and living up to the standards that generations before her had established were only two of them. Another was pleasing her grandfather.
She sensed Troy drinking this all in. Aside from an overview of family history, she’d never explained the details of her relationship with Laura Granger. As far as she was concerned, Laura was past history, but he couldn’t miss there was more water under this bridge than he knew.
“What is it you want from Miranda?” he asked.
“This is the first time we’re all together since Westfalls Academy,” Victoria said earnestly. “The first time Mother and Aunt Suzanne have been in the same room in years. Come the end of the week, Naughty Nuptials will be over. We’ll all go back to living our separate lives. We won’t get this chance again, and if there’s any way we can solve this problem, I think we should try. Since Miranda’s a part of the family, she should be involved.”
“What about talking to the senator?” he said. “Because Miranda’s right, you don’t want to raise any red flags with your investigation. Who knows what might crop up.”
Victoria gave a huff of exasperation. “I agree with you, bro-in-law, but do you honestly think he’ll tell us what we want to know when he hasn’t even told his daughters?”
In a normal family, Troy’s suggestion would have been a good one. In the Knight family, simple communication would have done the trick. But Miranda didn’t come from a normal family. Her grandfather was a very strong-willed, very stern man. In fact, she had a really hard time imagining any of them—for all their bravado—confronting him about secrets from his past.
Miranda met Troy’s gaze and squeezed his hand to let him know how much she appreciated his efforts to run interference with these two schemers.
“Why don’t we just talk to our respective mothers and encourage them to get together,” she suggested. “If they want to, they will. If not, no harm no foul. They’ll think we’ve all lost our minds, but no one will wind up in an awkward position. You’re right in one regard, Laura. I don’t really know you, but I assume you don’t want this town to start gossiping about your parents again.”
“Of course not,” she said. “But I do think we need to put the past behind us if we can.”
“You’re looking for a miracle.”
A slow, easy smile spread across her face. “It so happens that we specialize in miracles at Falling Inn Bed.”
“Forgive me, Laura, but you specialize in sex,” Miranda said, squelching her impatience. “You might pretty it up like you did in my suite, but I saw the dungeon Victoria’s staying in.”
Her sister laughed. “It was the rack. I told you.”
Miranda only stared at the two of them, uncomfortable with being the object of their amusement.
“Ladies, would you mind explaining how you plan to avoid raising red flags?” Troy asked.
Victoria launched into a breathless account of how they would delve into their grandparents’ lives, and if anyone got interested—which she was sure they wouldn’t—then they’d just pretend to be tracing their genealogy.
As Miranda listened to her sister and Laura, she agreed their plan might yield the answers they were looking for without inviting any interest from the press. But she wasn’t willing to take that chance. Not when they had no idea what they might find.
Before she had a chance to make her argument, though, Troy said, “I can help out with the records. It’s going to be tough to find out about the senator’s orders during his military career, but I’ve got some access. I should be able to get basic information.”
For a space of a heartbeat, Miranda could only stare up at her husband.
He was offering to help?
She recognized his determination to assist in this plan, despite her attempts to convince these two otherwise.
“This is a family situation, Miranda,” he said. “And I’m family. I don’t mind helping if it will get us some answers without cluing anyone in to what we’re doing.”
She still couldn’t
manage anything more than a stare, so he leaned close and whispered for her alone, “Damage control.”
“I knew there was a reason you were my favorite bro-in-law.” Victoria launched forward to kiss his cheek. “You’re hired. So what about you, big sis? Are you on board, too?”
All gazes turned to her, and it was then that she finally realized what was happening.
She was getting dragged into this madness whether she wanted to or not.
4
MIRANDA WILLED HERSELF to smile graciously as Laura suggested they meet in her suite later for dinner to officially begin their investigation.
“We’ll make my room headquarters and discuss how best to proceed,” she said.
“Good idea,” Victoria agreed. “You’ll like the Castaway Honeymoon Isle, Miranda. No perverted sex toys in there. It’s tasteful, like your suite.”
Right. Tasteful seemed sort of irrelevant when they were about to cross long-drawn lines with this scheme to bring the Fords and the Grangers together. All the nuances of the situation hadn’t hit her yet, but they would as soon as she had a chance to think about what they were about to do. At the moment, the whole situation just felt strange.
Even her husband felt like a stranger. He’d leaped feetfirst into this investigation even as she tried to dissuade her sister from investigating. He must have thought he was helping, but it wouldn’t be the first time he expected her to handle her family the way he would have handled his own.
But the Fords were nothing like the rambunctious Knights. The six Knight siblings always made holiday get-togethers feel like the inside of a hurricane tunnel. Her mother-in-law reveled in having family around and encouraged her children to have fun and make memories.
Miranda loved her in-laws, but she couldn’t deny the activity level sometimes overwhelmed her. Those times she sought out her father-in-law, an admiral, who always seemed like the calm in the middle of a storm.
She couldn’t deal with her family the same way she and Troy dealt with his, and most of the time, he understood that.
But how could she argue his point now?
Victoria plus Laura Granger equaled trouble and the situation required damage control. Like it or not. And yet…had Troy backed her up when it counted, she might have put a stop to this craziness.
After they said their goodbyes, she and Troy left the photojournalist’s room, but once inside the elevator, she brushed his hand from the control panel and depressed the lobby button.
“We’re not going back to our suite?” he asked.
“No, the spa.”
“Why?”
“Because I feel the need for a relaxing soak in the whirlpool. Or the sauna, if you prefer.” She needed to clear her head and make some sense of what had just happened.
Troy narrowed his gaze. “You’re angry.”
“I’m not angry.”
“No?” He arched a brow, a skeptical look that at any other time might have earned a smile from her. His striking green eyes contrasted sharply with his blond hair and tanned skin, making even a glance potent. “If you’re not angry, what are you?”
Miranda considered her answer as the elevator came to a stop and unloaded them in the Wedding Wing lobby, in full view of the Mireille Marceaux painting showcased in a display. “I’m amazed Laura managed the loan of this painting from Westfalls.”
He frowned.
“I’m not discussing your defection here in the lobby, Troy.” She wouldn’t discuss it at all until she’d had a chance to gather her thoughts.
“My defection?”
She ignored him and looked up at The Falling Woman. The stunning redhead and the surrounding forest gleamed in mist from the falls. The sheer veil she draped over her body poured over her like a waterfall, enhancing rather than covering the curves below. Miranda could make out a hint of blush-colored nipples, the triangle of glossy hair between her thighs.
“Laura told us her mother pulled some strings to arrange the loan,” Troy finally said. “Since her mother worked at your school, I don’t see what’s so amazing.”
“Laura’s shown considerable business savvy by using this painting to generate local interest in her grand opening.”
Troy led her across the lobby, staring up at the painting as if he couldn’t figure out what the fuss was all about. “Because of the mystery surrounding the artist?”
“Her mystery has become legend around here.”
A French painter from the middle of the last century, Mireille Marceaux had been known for her erotic oil paintings and sketches, although posthumously her landscapes had earned renown as well. After her unexpected death, she’d bequeathed the bulk of her estate to Westfalls Academy. The legend involved her mysterious connection to the academy and the Niagara Falls area.
“The Falling Woman is erotic art,” Miranda explained. “When my mother was in school, Westfalls administration wouldn’t acknowledge the existence of anything but the landscapes.”
“Understandable for the time. But I don’t think this painting is considered too risqué by today’s standards.”
“I suppose that’s what makes her erotic—she leaves room for the imagination. When I remember how the students speculated about her art when I was in school… We expected pornography, but there’s nothing pornographic about her.”
With her face partially obscured in shadow and mist, The Falling Woman looked ethereal, almost mysterious. Miranda hadn’t taken the time to look closely at her before, but after so recently examining the images of her mother and Aunt Suzanne, she noticed this woman’s thoughtful expression, as if she’d known people would look at her and wonder what she was thinking.
Miranda didn’t know if someone had modeled for the artist. Laura Granger would likely have that answer, if she wanted to ask the question. She didn’t.
“So what do you think the artist’s connection is?” Troy asked, tucking her closer against him, a natural move that sent a little tingle through her and went a long way to distract her from this portrait.
“I think Mireille Marceaux’s name became so famous that she hid out here to be far away from the press and her critics.”
“Laura mentioned during one of the receptions that people think a married man or an illegitimate child factored into the equation.”
Miranda shrugged. “No one knows what Mireille Marceaux looked like, so it could be, I suppose. But if a mysterious artist left loved ones behind, I think someone would have surfaced by now to document her story, or write a tell-all book.”
Troy glanced down at her with a searching expression. “That’s an entirely different spin from Victoria and Laura.”
“I’m not Victoria or Laura.” And she had an entirely different spin on what it was like to be caught in the public eye. Who could blame this artist for keeping her identity hidden. Smart woman.
“No, you’re you.” Troy gave a laugh and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. “Have I told you lately I’m glad you’re exactly who you are?”
“No, but I know you are anyway.”
That certainty was a feeling she needed to cherish, she reminded herself. The most wonderful man in the world loved her. She shouldn’t let a bunch of self-doubt about witchy wives and vanishing orgasms make her forget.
She just needed to focus on what was important right now—enjoying this precious time together with Troy.
“So what’ll it be?” she asked as they turned the corner leading to the spa. “The whirlpool or the sauna?”
“Sauna.”
“The sauna it is then. Hot, naked skin works for me.”
“Does it?” He slanted a questioning gaze down at her. “I didn’t think you’d trust me again so soon after this morning.”
“I always trust you, Lieutenant Commander. Before or after sex toys. Even cold ones. And after your dual-temperature torture device, it’s my turn to pick the sex game…” She let her declaration trail off suggestively, and Troy flashed her a wicked grin.
Their arrival i
n the spa precluded more conversation, but there was no missing Troy’s look of expectant male. Miranda smiled as they passed through the doors, feeling more in control than she had in too long. She wouldn’t sacrifice any more time with her husband. Not to worry about Victoria and Laura. Not to worry about the possibility of vanishing orgasms.
“Good afternoon,” a uniformed attendant greeted them, and they’d barely issued their request before being ushered to a private sauna and provided warm robes and towels.
She followed Troy’s gaze around the dimly lit changing room decorated in an art deco theme. Stylized lamps glowed against tiled walls that were lined with bright hooks to hang clothing. A chaise and chair made of some slick fabric would hold up well to humidity.
As Troy drew near, she couldn’t help wonder what he would think about her new game, knew she wouldn’t have to wait long to find out. Not when he eyed her with a smile playing around his mouth, a look that said, “I’ve got you right where I want you.”
This was a look she knew well, one that never failed to start her pulse racing. It was a look that chased away all other thoughts except for those of pleasuring and being pleasured by her husband.
“May I?” She trailed her fingers along his cheek and down his neck, a searching touch that heightened the promise of the moment. Especially when she caught a glimpse of the jumping pulse in his throat.
“I’m all yours.”
And the thought alone sent a sprinkling of sensation through her, heightened her excitement to begin her game. Slipping her finger into his collar, she caressed the pulse beat beneath his skin. The corners of his mouth kicked up in a smile as he shifted his gaze over her and appreciation flared in his eyes.
“I want you to know I will not be making love in this sauna, Lieutenant Commander.” She unbuttoned his collar then continued down, exposing his tanned chest beneath his shirt.
“Really?”
She could hear the curiosity in his voice, didn’t glance up. “Really. I’ve got a better idea.”
Pillow Chase Page 5
