The First Cut (Terrence Reid Mystery Series Book 2)

by Mary Birk

  Intense fury burned through him at the sight of the man touching her, even as Anne adroitly turned so that the hand was dropped. Her dress revealed an enticing glimpse of cleavage. Why couldn’t she wear something more businesslike? Something like a suit and a high-necked blouse? He’d never been a jealous man, but finding out about the pregnancy seemed to have unearthed these strong, primordial feelings in him.

  He watched her, torturing himself. He knew he’d had too much to drink, especially considering he had eaten nothing all day. He could tell himself he’d fasted today because it was Good Friday, but actually, he’d hardly eaten anything since he’d last seen her. She, on the other hand, had been out to dinner in a sexy dress with other men. There was no sign now of the distraught and tearful wife he’d last seen in his flat.

  He rose and crossed to her. Surprise flickered across her face, and then pleasure, but he could tell that she recognized his mood. Poised nonetheless, she introduced him around. He knew Jonas, greeted him. When the last man, the one who had had his hand on Anne, turned and faced him, recognition hit Reid like a solid punch in the gut.

  Walter Von Zandt.

  The man bared his teeth in a cold, feral smile. Reid registered something familiar in the man’s expression, familiar because he’d seen it in his own face many times lately: Von Zandt was jealous of Anne. Blast the woman. She had a way of causing that reaction in men without even realizing what she was doing. She should wear a bag over her head—or over her whole damned body.

  Anne, seemingly oblivious, smiled at the other men as she made her excuses to leave them. “Thank you for dinner, Jonas. If you gentlemen would excuse us, please, I’ve not seen my husband for several days. He’s been too busy to get away.”

  “By all means . . .” Jonas began, but was interrupted by Von Zandt’s unctuous voice.

  “Lord Reid—or should I say Superintendent Reid?”

  Reid acknowledged the man with a nod. “I’m assuming you own Lynstrade Manor?”

  “I do.” Von Zandt looked unconvincingly sheepish. “Rather, it’s owned by one of my companies.”

  Anne eyes went from Von Zandt to Reid, her confusion obvious. “You two know each other?”

  “In a manner of speaking.” Von Zandt glanced at Reid, but his attention remained on Anne. “We’ve greatly enjoyed having Anne with us at Lynstrade Manor these past few days.”

  “I’m sure you have.” Reid bit each word out as if it were its own sentence.

  “You know, I assume, that Jonas and your delightful wife have agreed to do the restoration of our gardens.”

  “Then you have the best there is.” Reid, gripping Anne’s arm tightly, smiled the briefest of smiles. “But I have missed her delightful company myself, and so, we’ll say good night.”

  “Please allow me to buy you a drink. I’d enjoy talking to both of you some more.”

  Reid remembered the man’s remark from the last time they’d met about having dinner with their wives sometime. Von Zandt must have known then that Anne would be working on his gardens. Reid’s anger escalated to where he wanted to hit Von Zandt, but Anne took Reid’s free hand in hers and looked up at him. Her face was melting into that sensual softness he loved, but, he wondered, had it begun when she saw him, or when Von Zandt was touching her arm?

  Anne squeezed Reid’s hand. “I’m so sorry, Walter. We really need to excuse ourselves. It’s been a long week apart for us.” She didn’t even seem to notice the other man’s eyes fixed intently on her.

  Von Zandt turned to Reid, anger almost spitting out of his eyes. “We’ll see each other again soon, Superintendent.”

  “I’m sure we will.” Reid kept his voice neutral, but clutched Anne’s hand.

  “Good to see you again, Terrence.” Jonas nodded at Anne. “Have a good weekend, Anne. We’ll start work early Monday morning.”

  “I’ll be there.” She turned and whispered in Reid’s ear as he led her away from the others. “I’m so happy to see you. I’ve been praying you’d call—but you coming is so much better.”

  Reid, not responding, guided his wife to the lift. He felt his control leave him and rage take its place, but he forced himself to wait. When they entered the lift, he finally spoke, his voice hard and clipped. “Are you really happy? I rather felt as if I were interrupting a party, Anne. You looked as if you were holding court.” The lift doors shut behind them and he punched in the floor number. “That bastard Von Zandt looked as if he wanted to eat you up.”

  “Terrence, don’t be silly. It wasn’t a party, it was a business dinner. Jonas needed to take them to dinner—it’s Walter’s garden, and the other two men work for him. Jonas asked me along as I’m on the project, but I wouldn’t have gone if I’d known you were coming.” She smiled at him and rose up on her toes to kiss him. “I’m so glad you came. I’ve been so worried.”

  Jealousy surged through him riding on a wave of whiskey. “Why does Jonas have you come to a business dinner wearing something like this?” He crowded her against the back of the lift and slipped his hand down the front of her dress, cupping one of her breasts.

  She looked up at him with surprise, although she didn’t push him away and did nothing to stop his hands. In fact, she yielded entirely to him, as was her way, but unfortunately, he thought, only in sex.

  “You’ve had quite a bit to drink, sweetheart, haven’t you?” She nuzzled against him, her voice soft. “Terrence, I don’t think we should do this here. Someone else might get on the elevator. Let’s wait till we get to the room, okay?”

  “I had a long wait while you were letting those men look at you in this dress.” He put his mouth on her neck, kissing her savagely. “You shouldn’t have worn a dress like this on a business dinner. This is not a business dress and you’re my wife.” He eased the skirt of her dress up past her bare legs, pushed aside the edges of her panties and found her.

  “Yes, I am.” Her arms went around his neck. She relaxed her legs and let his fingers enter her, her head tilting back as her eyes closed. Her voice came out in those lovely husky tones it took on when she was aroused, and she moved into his hand. “Shouldn’t we wait until we get to the room? Someone else might get on.” Her voice was breathless and he heard her desire.

  He didn’t answer her, but keeping one hand between her legs, unzipped her dress.

  Dislodging her arms from around his neck, he took the top of her dress in his free hand and pulled it down to her waist. “There.”

  She half-heartedly tried to pull the dress back up, but he pinned her arms back with one hand, kissing her, and still moving his other hand inside her. She made a sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, her head leaning back against the lift’s mirrored wall. His fingers worked quickly—he wanted to make her come right there, and he could tell it was near. It never took much with Anne; she was always so ready. He wanted to, needed to, hear her climax.

  Suddenly the lift doors opened. Anne, startled out of her immersion in what he’d been doing to her, quickly pulled her arms free.

  “Come on, my room is this way. Hurry, I’m so close.” She grabbed the top of her dress and tried to slide her arms back into the straps. He reached for it and ripped it apart at the bodice.

  “This is not a business dress, Anne. Not a business dress at all.”

  Her breath came out in labored efforts. “Let’s just get into the room.” She slid the plastic key card in the lock and opened the door.

  He came in after her and closed the door. He pulled her around to him, grabbed the dress on each side and continued to rip it until the tearing stopped at the hem. Satisfied, he nodded, then stepped back and studied her. “There, now. You’re not wearing this dress anymore.”

  She looked down at the remnants of her dress, a slight smile playing on her lips. “No, I guess not.”

  “You’re mine. My wife.”

  “Yes, I’m yours. Just yours. Come to me, hurry.” She held out her arms, but he stayed where he was.

  “Not yet.”
He motioned to her. “Take off the rest of your clothes.”

  She unfastened the black lace bra and let it drop, then slid off the matching panties. She stood there in nothing but her high heels. He stared at her, awed as he always was with her perfection.

  He exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Christ, you’re beautiful. So bloody beautiful. And you’re pregnant.” He shook his head. “God, I need a drink.”

  “I don’t think so—you’ve had enough of those. Finish what you started before I go crazy.” She walked over to him, then pressed herself against him.

  He kissed her, backing her over to the bed. Letting his pent-up need loose, he buried himself in her, feeling reassurance in her soft surrender.

  “I love you, lassie. God, I love you so much.”

  She clung to him as he drove himself into her, again and again. He heard a cry of surrender as he came, but didn’t know if it was hers or his.

  SATURDAY, APRIL 11

  Chapter 43

  REID’S HEAD HURT when he woke up. He had been drunk, more drunk than he’d been in years, but not drunk enough not to remember stripping and groping Anne in the lift. He groaned, then sat up in bed. Anne was sitting at the little hotel table, placidly drinking something from a cup and studying her design notebook. Every once in a while, she made notations, her bottom lip caught tightly in her teeth in concentration.

  He looked around the room. The offending black dress was stuffed in the small hotel rubbish bin, and a room service tray was sitting on the desk holding a pot of coffee, a smaller pot he assumed was her herbal tea, two glasses of juice, and two covered dishes.

  She smiled at him mischievously. “How are you feeling?”

  “Don’t ask.” He ran his hand through his hair. “My head is killing me.” His eyes focused on her again. She wore a short white nightie that showed the cleavage he had objected to in her dress last night, as well as acres of tanned leg.

  “God, Anne, you look so pretty.”

  She crossed over to the bed, kissed him and handed him two aspirin and a glass of water. “This might help.” She went back to the desk, retrieved her cup, then came back and sat next to him on the bed cross-legged, watching him.

  “Oh, girl, I’m sorry for how I acted. I was a total arse—drunk and crazy.”

  She tilted her head to the side and her golden hair shifted over her shoulders. “You were a bit drunk and definitely intense, but I enjoyed it quite a bit, as you may or may not remember.” She took a drink of her tea, smiling. “I hope you remember. Perhaps when your head is better, and you’ve had some coffee and breakfast, I could do something to refresh your memory.”

  He just looked at her, trying to figure out this woman who’d totally turned his life upside down, over and over again.

  She traced her fingers around his face. “You’d had a shock and you probably needed to get drunk. We definitely needed to make love—and we need to make love again.”

  He nodded. “Aye.”

  “But this time, let’s keep everything inside the room—although that whole elevator thing was wildly exciting. Don’t let’s chance it again, though. I’d hate to end up in some tabloid in my underwear—or worse.”

  He swallowed the tablets she’d given him. “I still can’t believe I did that. I’ve never lost control like that, and I can’t remember the last time I was so drunk. Please tell me I didn’t appear as drunk as I felt in front of Jonas and Von Zandt and the rest of your people.”

  “You were professional and elegant, as usual, at least until we got into the elevator.”

  “Thank Christ for that.”

  “Yes. Then you were . . .” She stopped and shook her head. “I can’t even think about it until you’re ready to make love to me again.”

  He knew immediately that she was aroused, which left him feeling gratified, but still a bit puzzled, and then, aroused himself. He gestured to the rubbish bin. “I ruined your dress.”

  “Totally. I guess you’ll have to buy me a new one. And an ugly business dinner dress, too. But it was definitely worth it.” She gave him a provocative slant-eyed grin. Her hand brushed between his legs over the sheet that covered him and he felt his cock instantly jump towards her under the sheet.

  She glanced down and smiled. “Want coffee?”

  He nodded, watched her uncross her long legs, get off of the bed, and walk over to the room service tray. She poured his coffee and brought it back to him, a luminous smile on her face. “I’m so glad you’re here, that you came to me.”

  He shook his head and took the coffee. “I don’t know how we’re to do this, Anne. I’ve still got no answers. I just couldn’t stay away. I love you so bloody much.” He put the cup down on the table next to the bed.

  “Let’s not think about it right now.” She sat back down beside him on the bed. Leaning over him, she hovered her lips over his and whispered, “As soon as your head can take it, let’s pretend we’re in the elevator again.”

  “Oh, girl.” He laughed and pulled her down to him. “My head’s just been outvoted by the rest of my body.”

  Chapter 44

  ON THE WAY back to Glasgow, Reid and Anne stopped at a chapel and attended Mass in honor of Holy Saturday. Then they picnicked on cold chicken and salad sitting on the floor of the lounge of the house on Aytoun Lane. Drop cloths to protect things from the painters covered almost every available surface. Both of their wine glasses held sparkling water instead of wine.

  “The walls look great. It looks like the painters finished?”

  He watched as her eyes traveled around the room, taking in the details. “Yes. Priscilla seems to have taken to heart my instruction that the job was a rush.”

  “Hmm. Do you pay more for rush jobs?”

  “Probably.”

  Anne sipped her water. “I thought you’d probably have cancelled the work.”

  He took her hand. “That was the last thing on my mind. I’ve been imagining you here since I bought it. It’s part of my dream for us, for our life.”

  “It’s a lovely house. And it will be even lovelier when everything’s finished.”

  “Are you warm enough? I’ve turned up the heat just in case you end up wearing less clothing than you have on now. Perhaps after we finish eating.”

  “Perhaps.” She ran her fingers along his back. “It’s perfect in here, but it is cold outside. When does it get warm? You know, for the spring—and summer?”

  “The weather’s not too bad just now, lassie, do you think? We’ve had quite a bit of sunshine.”

  She looked at him skeptically. “It’s cold, Terrence. Are you saying this is normal?”

  “Aye, for this time of year.”

  “Now, maybe, but in the summer?” She asked hopefully.

  He laughed. “In the summer, sometimes we hit a little above what you’d know as seventy degrees. Fahrenheit, I’m talking, as you’re used to that. Sometimes we’ll even hit the eighties.”

  Anne’s face showed her astonishment. “That’s summer?”

  “That’s a very warm day in summer, girl.”

  “But what about at the beach? Scotland has lots of beaches, doesn’t it?”

  “Aye. But that’s summer there, too.”

  “People surf here, though. I read that.”

  “Yes, but in wetsuits, lassie. Not in a bikini like you’re used to doing.”

  She stared at him. “So never warm, not really? How did I not know that by now?”

  “You’ve not been here much, and not in summer. We’re considerably farther north than California.”

  “San Francisco’s not all that warm.”

  “Warmer than here.”

  “I guess so.” She didn’t sound happy about it.

  “If you’re living here,” He knew she would understand his meaning, and she nodded showing that she did. “If you are here, lassie, I’ll take you on holidays to warm places—I promise—as much as we can get away. And you can drive me crazy wearing your litt
le bikinis. Like on our honeymoon.”

  She leaned over to put her arms around him. “At least there’s lots of rain. That’s good for gardens, at least.”

  Reid reached out and idly picked up Anne’s mobile phone, his casualness belying the jealousy that ate at him. “May I look?”

  She raised her eyebrows, but nodded. “Go ahead. I don’t have anything to hide.”

  He went to the call log and scrolled down. Between the calls that were clearly business and his own calls, were several calls from Andrew Grainger. He flipped the screen toward her.

  “Grainger seems to be calling you often.”

  “He’s just checking to make sure I’m okay.”

  “He’s in love with you.”

  “Maybe, but I love you.”

  He put down the phone and took Anne’s face in his hands. “The baby could be mine, couldn’t it?” More than anything in the world, he wanted the child in Anne’s body to be his.

  “Yes, of course.”

  He got quiet. “My first son will be heir to Dunbaryn, and will be earl after me. If the child’s not mine . . .”

  “I know.” Her eyes began to fill.

  “If the child’s Grainger’s, you can’t let it grow up in my house with that scandal hanging over its head. And you won’t—can’t—leave the child with him and stay with me. I couldn’t ask that of you.”

  Tears started to fall down her cheeks. “I couldn’t leave the baby. But I love you. I don’t think I can live without you.”

  “You’ll be fine, girl. You’ll be fine. I’m not so sure about myself, but we’ll not worry about that yet. Not just yet. For now, you’re here with me.”

  She leaned over and they held each other tightly. He lifted his hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

  “Terrence, I’m so sorry about all this.”

  “It wasn’t just you. I’m to blame, as well.” He tried to sound casual. “We’ll do what we can.” He brushed her hair back. “Tomorrow is Easter, you know.”