Payton

by L. L. Muir

  The lad still looked dejected.

  “Well?”

  “Straight down the middle,” he said, with a smile growing slowly across his face.

  Fitz whooped and slapped the lad on the back. Then slapped Shawn’s raised hand as well.

  Rocky was standing at the end of the bleachers helping his wife down the steps.

  Fitz nodded in his direction. “I guess we showed him, aye?”

  Grace walked toward him with a worried frown. He gave her a slight shake of his head and she smiled.

  “Uh.” Jacob looked confused. “Just what did we show Uncle Rocky?”

  “That we wouldn’t give up, laddie. That even when we were faced with certain death, we fought our best.”

  “I think you’re getting real life mixed up with your battle stories again.” Grace slipped her arm around his waist in spite of the foul smell. Her fingers against his bare flesh sent a welcome shiver through him.

  “I tend to do that, do I not?”

  She grinned up into his face. “Aye, ye do.”

  Rocky frowned in their direction and Fitz couldn’t resist schooling the man while he still could.

  “Do ye see this?” he hollered and pointed at Grace.

  “What?” the older man answered.

  “How can I have lost when I have this?”

  Rocky shooed away the remark with the wave of his hand, rolled his eyes, and led his wife away.

  Fitz turned and gazed into the green depths of Grace’s eyes and wondered how her father could be such a fool. “I’m sorry, lass, but it is my considered opinion that Rocky Cunningham is blind in all ways.”

  She smiled a brave smile and cleared the hurt from her face. “Rocky Who?”

  His pride in her, at that moment, stole his breath away and he thought his chest might burst. But along with the satisfaction, that perhaps he’d aided the lass in some way, to help her see her family for the fools they were, he worried that his time with her would come to a close.

  Was that all that was needed? Would he suddenly feel himself lifted from the ground again?

  He searched the field for any sign of a wee witch in a long dark robe, but saw nothing of the kind. Only clusters of youngsters looked on, no doubt wondering why their grand events had been cut short just so a bunch of motley men could play at being young and fit again.

  “Come on, Fitzjames Payton, American Football player.” Grace nudged him with her shoulder under his arm. “Let’s go get cleaned up for tonight.”

  “Will ye change yer clothes as well?” He wasn’t interested in seeing the lass undress, he only thought the gown she wore was hardly flattering. But then again, it would hardly be flattering to one of those zombies they showed on the tellie. The color was that sad.

  “Oh, no.” She walked ahead of him and twirled about, trying to make the dress come to life, but failing. “I have to wear this to the reception. And if I take it off, you’d only be able to get it back on over my dead body.

  He chortled at her wrinkled nose, a nose that was slender and pert. A nose that shared nothing with the curled, nasty looks on the faces of her father, her aunt Mary, or her sister.

  A nose that made his heart do surprising feats in his chest.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Back at the Country Club, Grace stood in the deserted hallway off the rear of the ballroom and waited for her Highlander to join her. Since they weren’t allowed to dance, as per Queen Barbara, because Fitz’s kilt might fly up—stupid excuse—they saw it as a chance to hide for a while.

  Fitz, however, thought he needed another plate of refreshments first. So she snuck out first.

  She could easily see down the road a week or two and imagine herself sitting on the Oregon coast, relaxing in front of the waves, watching for dots on the horizon…and bawling her eyes out.

  First of all, she knew better than to fall for a guy who was from Texas. But she’d stopped thinking of Fitz as being a Texan. In fact, with that accent of his, she’d had a hard time believing he’d ever spent much time in the state at all. For all she knew, he could have just come from the airport and hadn’t had time to realize he’d touched down in Hell.

  Secondly, she knew better than to imagine herself having children with someone, no matter how green his eyes were. And then she’d gone so far as to imagine them standing in front of a priest—exchanging vows—and wondering if she was going to let her mother come to her wedding!

  Okay, so she’d screwed up. But that didn’t mean little replicas of herself and her sister were going to come chasing down the corridor at any minute. They wouldn’t hide under the long tablecloths, eavesdrop on Grandpa Rocky and Grandma Barbara, and take lessons on how to be cruel and uncaring of anyone in the world but themselves.

  It didn’t mean any of that would happen. It only meant that, once she got home, she’d need a little gas money to get to the beach and a few dozen boxes of tissues. That was all.

  But for now, it was too late to fight it. Too late to lie to herself and pretend she wasn’t head over heels for the guy she hadn’t even paid yet.

  That reminded her—she needed to look through her old emails and figure out how much she needed to get out of the ATM. If he stayed in her hotel room again, she’d still need to pay him first thing in the morning before she left for the airport. If his money and clothes had been found and delivered to the OMNI, he might want to head out as soon as the reception was over.

  She dug through her small purse and pulled out her phone.

  A large, warm form sidled up behind her and snaked its arms around her waist. Then his head lowered to her shoulder where he left an unhurried kiss that sent chills racing through every vein.

  “What do ye there?” A familiar low voice rumbled through her bones and she turned to face her own personal fantasy.

  She laughed and wiped a tiny spot of whipped cream from his cheek. “I’ve got to find the email from your agency again.”

  A cloud chased the smile from his face. “Dinna do that, lass. Let us not talk wages and such until the magic of this night has faded, aye? I have little time left, I should think. Far too little to waste.”

  Her heart sank, but she kept a brave face in spite of it. “Then I need to get to an ATM and get your money for you.” She looked at her phone again and powered it up.

  He plucked it from her hands and pushed it back into her purse. “No need, lass. What I’ve done, I’ve not done for money. I swear it.”

  She shook her head. “No way. You were subjected to…my family. There is no way you are walking out of here without at least enough money to cover the therapy you’ll need, right?” She chuckled like it was a joke and wished it wasn’t true. It was like she’d exposed him to a virus and knew he was going to have to go see a doctor as soon as the offices opened on Monday morning.

  He took both her hands and held them together between them. “Grace,” he swallowed nervously. “Sweet Grace—”

  “Grace!” Mary had found them in the corridor and gave them both a nasty scowl. “They’re waiting for you. They want to take a picture before they cut the cake.” She waved Grace to her.

  “I’ll be back,” the lass promised. “Don’t you go anywhere!”

  He nodded and waved his fingers. He only wished he could make that promise.

  Slowly, he followed along and entered the ballroom again where Barbara Cunningham had forbidden him to dance with her daughter in that get-up. And so they’d found a quiet place to talk instead, which he preferred in any case.

  They simply should have found a better hiding place.

  Now the entire wedding party posed for photographs for the fourth time that evening. The young women in those horrid dresses, the young men in fancy suits with ties that matched the horrid dresses. The patriarch in his precisely tailored suit with nothing ridiculous about it but the belly beneath, and the grand dame herself in a dress almost too fancy for a bride. The bride wore a simple gown of the same shade, but it looked little better than a shift
compared to her mother’s glittering guise.

  They posed. They moved and posed again. And all the while, Fitz studied them.

  Grace was far shorter than even the shortest bridesmaid, and Patience was the tallest of all. The bride also had been blessed—nay, cursed—with that curled nose. When she wasn’t paying strict attention to the photographer, it twisted out of habit and was nearly identical to that of Mary, Rocky’s sister. Rocky, of course, sported a larger, wider version of the same.

  But not Grace.

  He studied Barbara’s nose, then looked back to Grace, but was pleased to find the lass’s features bore no resemblance to her mother’s at all. He looked at Patience, then at Grace again. To Rocky, then to Grace again. Finally, he looked at Barbara once more and found her watching him. Her lips parted in what he supposed could have been a hiss, but he was too far away to hear it, and the crowd was none too quiet in their “celebration of free liquor,” as Grace had termed it.

  To Grace. To her mother. To Grace. To her mother. His attention whipped back and forth so many times that he was certain he’d unraveled the mystery.

  “Enough,” Barbara barked, and though the photographer immediately lowered his camera and the wedding party relaxed their poses, Fitz was fairly certain she’d meant the command for him alone.

  She held his attention and nodded toward the veranda. He was loathe to taint his memories of Grace on the balcony, but he followed the woman. After all, they had important things to discuss and she was obviously choosing her battleground. And though she may have fought many battles in her life, whole wars perhaps, he doubted she’d ever stood toe to toe with a genuine Highlander.

  She didn’t stand a chance.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Barbara Cunningham stood by the stone rail and waited for him to step outside. Then she walked to the end of the balustrade and around the corner. Fitz followed. After he turned the corner, he found there was another tier, level with the pool, covered with small sets of tables and chairs, backed up against the shrubbery where no one, looking down upon the pool, would see.

  I should have brought Grace here.

  The candles floating on the pool made her fancy coat shimmer—too cheery an effect for so sober a woman.

  She sat on the far side of a small table and avoided his gaze. “Sit down,” she said.

  He sat opposite her and looked over the chaos floating on the water. Different from the night before. Just how many gardens had been sacrificed for this celebration?

  “Name your price,” she said, as soon as he was settled.

  “My price?” He snorted. “And just why would ye wish to purchase me, Lady Cunningham?”

  She turned sharply, thinking he had mocked her. He made no apologies.

  Again, she looked away, seeing something more than just the pool and its decorations. “I know what you’re thinking, and I want you to go, now, before you share those suspicions with Grace.”

  “Convictions,” he corrected.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I know who you are. I know you’re not from Eugene. And I know she was lying about having a boyfriend. She hired you to play a role. You have nothing invested here. So name your price and go. Tonight.” Her eyes narrowed farther. “Now.”

  He folded his arms and raised a brow. “No haggling?”

  “No haggling. I told you to name your price. I’ll have a car take you wherever you wish to go, but only if you leave now and never speak to Grace again.”

  He shook his head and stood. “Ye’ve a twisted heart, madam. And Grace will be well rid of ye.”

  She bounded to her feet as well. “I don’t think you understand, Jim. You can name any price. Any price, and it’s yours. Tonight. In cash.”

  “Money means nothing to me—”

  “Money means nothing to a dog,” she snarled, needed no curling nose to show her nastiness. “Shall I have you put down like a dog?” She reached into the lapel of her fancy suitcoat and pulled out a mobile. “I should have thought of this in the beginning.”

  “Your money means nothing to me, either, mother. Are you going to have me put down too?” Grace stepped around him and faced the woman. He reached out for her, but she eluded him.

  Barbara sneered at Fitz. “You fool.”

  He shrugged. “I didna ken she’d followed me.”

  “Sure you did. That’s why you had to be so noble and refuse my offer, only because she was listening.”

  Grace braced her feet apart and shifted her weight back and forth. “Let’s hear it mother. What’s the offer. Maybe I’ll be interested, if he’s not.”

  “This doesn’t concern you,” the woman said and sat back in her chair. She brought her hand up to her chin and looked off in the distance, ignoring Grace outright.

  The lass grunted in disgust. “You would actually pay him not to see me anymore? I’m pretty sure it concerns me.”

  Barbara waved a hand, dismissing the lass’s accusations like they meant nothing at all.

  “What if we were in love?”

  “You’re not.” Still she wouldn’t look at her daughter.

  “You couldn’t know that for sure. I mean, look at him. What’s not to love? He’s the only man in Arlington, including my relatives, who cares if I’m happy. He’s the only person who cared when I had a panic attack and almost collapsed at your precious wedding supper. And you never even asked if I was okay.”

  She gave Fitz a long, sad look, then moved to stand between Barbara and whatever she saw in the distance, trying to force her attention.

  Grace pointed at him. “This is the kind of guy you wanted to pay off? To send away? Why? To keep me from hoping? Is that what you want? Because I lost all hope a long time ago, mother. Too bad you never noticed. You could have been pleased with yourself without it costing you a cent.” She wiped her face and dried her hands on her horrid, twisted gown. “Really, mother. What is wrong with you?”

  Grace finally turned away and seemed determined to leave alone, but he stepped in front of her. “Wait, lass. There is more ye need to know.”

  The bitter woman sucked air through her teeth, but in the end, just turned away again. Telling Grace was apparently up to him. So he did.

  “I understand now why yer siblings treat ye so meanly. They were taught to do so, following only what they’d seen. Yer parents are vipers, no question. But as far as I can gather, they might never treat a child with such distain…unless the child was never their own to begin with.”

  A gasp came from above, followed by hurrying feet and a few heartbeats later, the bride appeared with her father hobbling quickly to catch up. Young Rock trailed behind, eating as he came. After all, he had his father’s belly to duplicate and he seemed to have a slow start thus far.

  Once Rocky’s heavy breathing quieted, Fitz addressed the man. “Ye take such pride in the others when they’ve not a kind bone to their bodies. But perchance ye see much of yerselves in them, aye? And in dear, sweet Grace, ye see only that which is foreign.”

  He strode to Grace then and took her face in his hands. “I knew from the beginning ye needed a new family and a new clan. And though I cannot give ye mine, for my time here is nigh gone, I can at least do ye the favor of removing ye from the clan and family to whom ye dinna belong.”

  Patience finally stopped glowering at Grace and turned that look on her mother instead. “What is he talking about, Mother? Is he saying Daddy isn’t her real father?”

  Barbara Cunningham had only herself to blame. And her children wouldn’t allow her to retreat, to fight another day. Finally, realizing she was defeated, she stood, straightened her shimmering jacket, and lifted her nose in the air like some queen preparing for the guillotine.

  She sighed dramatically. “He’s saying that we’re not Grace’s real parents. And he’s right.” After the blow sent both her real children grasping for a seat, she went on to explain how humiliated she was when she gave birth to a stillborn baby boy. So rather than tell the world and suffer t
hrough the pity of everyone they knew, they quickly found a baby they could buy and none would be the wiser.

  Grace moved to stand before Fitz, her eyes bursting with barely contained hope. “I was never theirs?”

  “Ye were never theirs, lass.”

  “And you found this out how?”

  He smiled and touched his finger to the end of her nose. “This. It just doesn’t fit in the Cunningham mold.”

  She shook her head rapidly. “She told me it was just like her grandmother’s nose.”

  “She told an untruth.”

  Grace spun to face the woman who was no longer her mother. “Who are my real parents?”

  Barbara shrugged, distaste back on her face. “She insisted on seeing you a few times, to make sure you were being cared for. But eventually, it became too awkward and we put an end to it. You knew her as Melissa.”

  “I remember her.” Her voice pitched high. “I remember her! I used to see her outside the fence at the school. She said she was watching her daughter.” She rushed over to Barbara and clapped her hands on her shoulders, ignoring the attempt to shrug her off. “Is this really true? You’re not teasing me?”

  “Why on earth would I tease you? I’m humiliated here. You’ve destroyed me.”

  Grace removed her hands like the shining beads had been sticky and left some residue on her palms. “Destroyed you? Yeah, like throwing water on a witch. It’s you who have nearly destroyed me.” She turned toward Rocky. “You shouldn’t have done it, you know.”

  “Oh, honey, we realized that too late.” He looked thoroughly humiliated, but Fitz was saddened that the man made no move to comfort his wife. They were at opposite ends, watching their family come apart between them.

  “No,” Grace said. “You shouldn’t have done it—not because it was despicable, which it was—but because I think, if you’d have dealt with losing a child, you might have been better people.”

  She faced Fitz and he noticed she hadn’t lost that spark of hope. “I really don’t have to see these people again, do I?”