by Mary Birk
“Yes, and our anniversary.”
He smiled. “I wasn’t sure you would remember, with all that was going on.”
“A woman remembers her wedding anniversary.” She kissed him. “I have something for you.”
“And I for you. How shall we celebrate?”
“You think we should celebrate?”
“Yes.” Whatever happened, she would be his only wife, and this might be the last wedding anniversary he’d have to celebrate. He wanted it to be something he could remember. “Would you like to go to dinner, my love?”
She nodded. “Let’s not go any place where we’ll need to worry about having our picture taken or running into people you know. This is complicated enough.”
“I know a place. Let me take care of it and surprise you.”
“Okay.” She took his hand and raised it to her lips. “So, are you feeling . . . intense again, by any chance?”
“What did you have in mind exactly?”
“Well,” She smiled wickedly. “I was thinking the stairs.”
He laughed and took her hand. “Front stairs or back?”
“Front and you chase me–then I catch you.”
“Oh, God, you’re such a lovely girl.”
* * * * *
Later, lying on the floor of the empty lounge with a blanket covering them, they watched the shadows of the sun going down through the windows. Reid smoothed his hand over his wife’s bare skin, thinking about how precious she was to him. Only with her had he ever been able to be so playful, but just now he needed them to be deadly serious.
“Anne, I need to talk to you about the Lynstrade Garden project and about Walter Von Zandt—and I need you to tell me how it came about that he came to Jonas about the job.”
“Why?” Then, before he could answer, she leaned over and let her mouth start the caressing that he knew would sidetrack their conversation if he let her continue. He gently pulled her head back and she looked surprised.
“I can still listen.”
“But I can’t talk, my love.” Where did a girl like this come from? She seemed to have an endless, effortless supply of passion.
She smiled, shrugged, and lay back. “Okay, talk then.”
“This has to stay confidential.” He knew he shouldn’t be telling her anything, but there was no other way for him to explain why she couldn’t take this job. Simple dislike for the man not only wouldn’t be enough to sway her and might make her think he was doing what he’d done before: telling her how to run her own career.
“Okay.”
“Walter Von Zandt is the target of the investigation I’m running right now.”
“Walter?”
“Yes.” He hated her using the man’s first name, hated that Von Zandt had intentionally wormed his way into their lives.
Her expression changed. Suddenly she was no longer his soft, pliant playmate. He saw the stubborn look in her face that had kept her in the States while he was in Scotland. He sighed. Here we go again.
He took her face in his hands. “I would like you to turn the job down.”
She pulled away from him. “What are you talking about? We’ve accepted it already.”
He opened his palms in a placating gesture. “Anne, surely there are other gardens that need work in Scotland.”
She shook her head. “Not ones like this. Jonas and I know this designer’s work better than anyone else. It’s an important project and, if it goes well, it will help me get more jobs like this here in Scotland.”
He ran his hand through his hair, trying to think of way to make her understand.
“My love, I think he maneuvered things to have you on this project because of your connection with me.”
She stared at him. “You’re wrong. His wife told me she was the one who chose us.”
“I’m sure he told his wife to say that.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that he knows about the investigation, and he may feel having you working for him will affect the zeal in which I pursue that investigation with regard to him.”
Her jaw set. This was not going well.
“If so, he’s wrong. It shouldn’t affect anything you do. Besides, I don’t think you’re right. Why can’t Jonas and I being chosen for the job be just what it seems like? That we’re the best choice for it?”
Reid knew with what was going on between them, he didn’t have the right to interfere with her career, but he wanted her safe.
He kissed the seashell curve of her ear. “I’m not saying you two aren’t the best for the job, I’m sure you are. I’m just saying he probably thinks having you working for him would give him an edge over me.”
“I can’t believe that. We’re renovating the gardens. Gardens—plants, dirt, things like that. I don’t see how that would interfere with you investigating for whatever financial crimes you suspect him of committing.”
“It’s too dangerous, Anne.”
“Dangerous, how? We’re talking about financial crimes, aren’t we?”
“He deals with dangerous people. I can’t really tell you more than that. Just trust me.”
“Then you should trust me. I just don’t see what possible advantage he could get from having me work on his garden. It isn’t like any money he pays the firm can compromise you. I don’t get any money directly and we’re doing real work. Besides no one would be crazy enough to think any money I make would be enough to have an effect on you.” She lifted her face to him, her voice teasing. “In case no one’s ever told you, you’re rich, Terrence. Rich with a capital R.”
He closed his eyes, praying for patience. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Anne.”
“And I don’t think it would be fair to Jonas to turn down the job because of your investigation. He doesn’t have any involvement in that. I don’t even know how I could explain it to him. How am I going to get other jobs in Scotland if I turn down jobs as good as this one that’s right here near you?”
“I’m not saying you have to turn down every job. Just this one.”
“I need to be able to work. My work is just as important to me as yours is to you.”
“I have no problem with that. Just with this job. Can’t Jonas find someone else to work on it with him?”
“If I tell him to do that, how likely do you think it is he’ll ask me again? It’s not like Walter is going to shoot me or something. And he’d be stupid to think that he can get to you by being nice to me.” She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him down to her. “Terrence, I want this job.”
Reid sighed and kissed her. They had so little time left together; he didn’t want to take the risk of losing her again by pitting himself against her work. Besides, a naked woman could be very persuasive. “All right, but you’ll be careful, lassie? He’s not a nice man, no matter how much charm he turns on when he talks to you. Promise me you’ll be careful.” He knew this was a terrible mistake, but he didn’t know what else to do.
“I will.” Her legs coiled around his own.
“Remember what I’ve told you. Have as little to do with him as possible. And keep others around you when you’re near him. Don’t be alone with him.”
“I won’t. I promise I’ll be careful. But it’s a job, a good job. And it’s close to you. I need to be close to you as long as I can. I’m so scared, Terrence.” She ran a finger along his face. “Scared we’ll lose each other again.”
He moved against her and felt himself becoming aroused again, but as he kissed her hair, she gave a little yawn. He suppressed a smile.
Pregnant women, he remembered from his sister Pippa, need naps. Even passionate pregnant women. He smoothed her hair as he held her. “You’re tired. Let’s get back to the flat and you can sleep a bit.”
She yawned again. “I guess I could use a short nap. Then we can watch a movie or something. Eat popcorn. Do normal married stuff.”
“Sounds good.” He patted her bottom. “Let’s get dressed, lassie.”
Chapter 45
HARRY PICKED UP his mobile, checking the screen to see who was calling him so late on a Saturday night.
“Guv?”
“Harry, I need to talk to you and it needs to be confidential.” Reid’s voice was low, as if he didn’t want someone nearby to overhear.
“Of course.”
“It’s partly personal, partly to do with our operation.”
“No worries, go on.” There was a pause and then the Superintendent cleared his throat. Something must be wrong, Harry thought. His boss was never tentative like this.
“My wife—through the firm she works for—has taken a job renovating the gardens at Lynstrade Manor.”
There was another pause. Harry let the quiet sit between them, not knowing where this was going. The last time his boss had mentioned his wife was two years ago when he’d come back from the States and matter-of-factly announced that he’d just gotten married and that he’d be out for two weeks on his honeymoon.
Finally, Reid spoke again. “Lynstrade Manor, it turns out, is owned by Walter Von Zandt.”
“I see.” But Harry didn’t see. Was the woman daft? “Does she know who he is?”
“I’ve just told her, but she’s already contracted to do the job. I’m afraid one of the reasons he hired her firm was because of her connection to me.”
Harry searched around in his mind for the proper response. He could tell from Reid’s voice that he was worried about his wife. She must really be a handful. As far as Harry could tell, she’d virtually disappeared from the guv’s life after the honeymoon, then reappeared in that mess in California, involved with another man and a murder. Now this. He decided to respond to the worry and not provide any commentary.
“You’ll be arranging for some kind of protection for her, guv?”
He heard Reid’s sigh of relief at his reaction. “Aye. One of Stirling’s companies is a private security firm. I’ll call him and get something set up.”
“You can’t just ask her not to go there?” Harry tried to be delicate in his inquiry.
“I tried, but the contract’s been signed, and I couldn’t give her enough details to impress that upon her. She did promise to keep her distance from him. She doesn’t understand what an evil bastard he is.” He seemed at a loss to explain his wife’s attitude, but Harry could tell that Reid was desperate to keep his wife safe. “It’s hard to explain, Harry. She’s from California.”
“Oh, that explains it, sir. California.” Harry spoke in a way meant to convey that he was not passing judgment on the other man’s wife. “We’ll just have to watch out for her, then.”
“Thank you. I can’t have anything happen to her.” His boss’s voice was quiet. “And I need this to be kept confidential. I’d rather not share this with the rest of the team or the brass unless it becomes necessary. I’ll let Darby know, but other than that, let’s keep it to ourselves.”
“Aye, guv. I understand.” Up until now, Harry thought, Reid’s career had seemed bulletproof, but letting his wife get cozy with his chief suspect wasn’t likely to be well received.
When his boss hung up, Harry shook his head, trying to fathom how a man who was so strong in everything else could let a woman twist his life around the way this one was doing. By now the Superintendent should have kenned that the woman was bad news, even if she was as kick-your-cock-up hot as she looked in the tabloids. He leaned down to kiss the woman in his own bed. He liked Inez just fine, but if she left, he’d like someone else just as well. He hoped he never found anyone who made him feel the way the Superintendent felt about his wife.
EASTER SUNDAY, APRIL 12
Chapter 46
DARBY CARRIED her plate along the deliciously elaborate buffet line at the MacTavishes’ elegant Glasgow townhome.
“A pity Terrence wasn’t able to join us.” John Stirling helped himself to juicy slices of the carved leg of lamb. “I had dinner with him Wednesday and tried to talk him into coming. He said work is too busy.”
“He’s busy, all right, but he’s not working. At least not today.”
Stirling raised his eyebrows. “Oh?” He smiled that tanned blond god smile that melted women’s knickers. “Then he’d be with Anne, I’d guess.”
“Yes.” Darby tried to tone down the sourness in her voice.
“I was hoping that was the case. He could have brought her with him. But he must have wanted to keep her all to himself.”
She made a face. She wouldn’t break her promise about not telling that Anne was pregnant. But that didn’t mean she had to pretend to like the woman. “I still don’t know what he sees in her—other than the obvious. He’s an absolute fool about her.”
“You’re a bit of a jealous baby sister.”
“I don’t like the way she treats him.” And Darby didn’t like what this was going to look like to her bosses. Helping Interpol take over an operation they should rightly be running in the first place was one thing, but she’d enjoyed the way people looked at her with respect when they’d found out Terrence Reid was her brother. Having her brother look like a complete fool wasn’t going to do anything for her stock at work.
“He’s well able to take care of himself. If he’s with her, I’d say he doesn’t think she’s as much at fault as you seem to think she is.” He grinned. “Besides, there aren’t many men who wouldn’t want her.”
“Because she’s pretty? Please.” Darby rolled her eyes.
He gave a half laugh. “More like film-star gorgeous.”
“You should know,” she said, her tone dry. Stirling’s name was always being linked to some beautiful celebrity or another.
“What can I say? I love women. All kinds of women.”
She cut her eyes at him. “Anne?”
“God, no. She’s my best friend’s wife.” Stirling paused, eyeing a colorful dish of red cabbage, then passed it by. “I wouldn’t touch her if she were the last woman on earth. Even when they’re fighting and apart, he worships her. And now, thank the gods, she’s back here, and apparently, they’re together. That should make him easier to live with.”
“Don’t be too thankful. I don’t think things are going too well between them.”
He turned his head to look at her and frowned. “No? I’d hoped with her finally here, they’d be good. That’s all he’s wanted.”
“The sooner that whole thing ends, the better, in my opinion.”
“Your father likes her.”
Did Stirling know that the Earl wasn’t really her father? Her face burned in mortification at the thought.
“He did before, but I don’t think the Earl’s thrilled with her now that she’s flaunted her lover all over the tabloids. She’s a slag.”
Stirling touched his finger to Darby’s lips. “Shh. Don’t say that. Your brother’s not likely to want to hear sentiments like that about Anne—even when he’s mad at her. My stock reply to him is ‘she’s an angel from heaven’ or variations of that, no matter what he says. So far, I’m still alive, so I’d recommend the same approach to you.” He dropped his finger from her mouth, then took a serving fork and lifted a piece of glazed ham to Darby’s plate.
She pulled her plate away. “No ham. I can’t just act like it’s okay with me if he has a wife that’s going to ruin his life.”
Stirling shrugged, and put the ham on his own plate. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Fish?”
She nodded, and he placed a lovely square of cod in what looked to be a buttery-sage sauce on her plate. Then reading her expression, he gave her another piece. That was one of the things that was so lovely about John Stirling. He really paid attention.
His golden head dipped down to look at the salads, then he whispered. “Salads are fillers. I’m skipping them.”
She shook her head indulgently, then put a spoonful on her plate from each one of the salads on offer.
Stirling made a face. “That’s a mistake. You need to leave room for the good stuff.” He grabbed a roll, gestur
ed toward her. “Like these. Want one?” She shook her head. He put the roll on his own plate. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I like to live dangerously.”
Stirling indicated a sofa situated at the far side of the room, away from the thick of the party crowd. “Shall we sit there? Or do you want to eat and mingle?”
“No, that’s good.” Once they were settled, she took a deep breath, deciding to plunge in. Maybe he knew who her real father was. “John, I didn’t go home for Easter, not just because I’m working, but I don’t really feel like I fit in there anymore.”
“I imagine it’s always that way when you’ve grown up, having to develop a new relationship with your parents, you know, adult to adult.” He scooped up a bit of potato cheese soufflé with his spoon, smiling with flicker of sadness rarely seen on his happy face. “Not such a bad problem to have, Darby.”
She’d almost forgotten. John Stirling’s parents had died in an automobile crash when he was a teenager; he probably wished he had parents to not fit in with when he went home. But she needed to know what he knew about her. She slid a glance to him. “I just meant, with the Earl not really being my father, and all. It’s not really my home.”
Stirling studied her while he took a drink of wine. She couldn’t read what he was thinking, but he didn’t look surprised.
She went on, “I don’t think they know that I know.”
Stirling speared a piece of asparagus, folded it into his mouth.
“You know, don’t you?” She wouldn’t drop her eyes from his face. She needed to know if he knew, if everyone knew.
He nodded.
“How long have you known?”
“I was at school with Terrence when it happened.”
“So he told you?”
“Not him, actually.”
“What do you mean?”
“Long story. Why don’t you ask your brother? Or better yet, your mother?”
“Tell me, John. I had to find out from the bloke doing the deep background vetting on me for my promotion. I can’t believe no one ever told me.” Tears stung her eyes. Not here. She wouldn’t cry here, not in front of John Stirling, not in the house of Terrence’s bloody friends.
