by Mary Birk
Stirling’s voice was gentle. “We were at a school full of boys. Boys delight in tormenting each other, and the subject of a bloke’s mother is always a way to deal a deathstar blow. The older boys explained it to us in excruciating detail.”
She tried to swallow, but the burning lump in her throat ached too badly. Her voice came out in a whisper. “No one told me.”
“Because it doesn’t matter. Your parents love you and the Earl has always been your father, Darby. He dotes on you. You have to know that.”
She bit her lip, thinking that pity could look like doting. “Do you know who my real father is?”
He shook his head. “No, but I’d say your real father is the Earl—the man who raised you. I was adopted, you know. My real parents were the people who raised me. I really believe that.”
“Don’t you ever wonder who your birth parents are?”
“Not seriously.”
“Why didn’t anyone tell me? I feel so stupid. Like everything I believed about my life was a lie.” The words hurt like broken glass against her throat.
“I’m the wrong person to ask. Talk to your parents, Darby.”
She nodded, but it would be a frigging freezing day in hell before she went back to Dunbaryn.
“Does everyone know? Am I the only one that didn’t know?”
Stirling took his time before answering. “I’m not sure. I know, but I’m one of Terrence’s closest friends. We were pretty young when your parents separated, so I’m not really sure what people knew or suspected.”
Darby blinked hard, let out a breath. “Don’t tell Terrence I know.”
“You need to tell him.”
“I will. Eventually.” She pasted on a social smile. “Let’s talk about something else. Work. Terrence said you’re helping out on the investigation. Did he tell you Von Zandt has Anne renovating his gardens?”
“Aye.”
“He thinks Von Zandt deliberately set it up so that Anne is there to get leverage on Terrence. Of course, instead of being furious at her, as he should be, he’s worried about her.” Darby felt an odd comfort in letting her enmity against Anne momentarily replace the pulsing ache that came when she thought about her family’s betrayal.
“As any sensible man would be. Too much of a coincidence.”
“You think she’s in danger?” Darby was skeptical.
“Von Zandt never does anything without a reason. If he has something in mind that involves Anne, in some way it would be something directed against Terrence.”
Darby considered, then said, “So you don’t think he could have legitimately chosen her firm for this job?”
“I’m not saying that. I’m saying, knowing who she is should have been a good reason for Von Zandt not to hire her. That he did so anyway means he has something in mind, even if it’s just goading your brother.”
“I have my doubts as well, but my reasoning had more to do with why anyone would hire such a worthless bit of fluff for anything.”
“I’ve not seen anything to indicate she’s not as talented as your brother seems to think she is.”
“The talents she has that interest him aren’t in garden design.”
He shook his head. “You’re a heartless lass.”
She clenched her jaw. “I know Terrence. Not that he hasn’t had women in his life before, but he is that pigheaded that once he decided she was the one he’d been waiting for, he just won’t let go, no matter how ridiculous a choice she’s turned out to be.”
“I think you’re underestimating her, Darby girl. I’ve not had much interaction with her, but when I did, I had the impression she’d do anything for him.”
Darby pressed her fork against her mouth, thinking. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe she would.”
And maybe Darby wasn’t a real Reid, maybe she didn’t have a real title, maybe she didn’t have a real family, but she’d show them all that she was as good as, if not better than, their precious heir.
And she’d get rid of Anne at the same time.
Chapter 47
THEY’D TAKEN their time that morning, gone to Easter Mass at a small church just outside town that Reid liked because the Mass was in Latin, which he found peaceful. The church required head coverings for women, so he’d brought along a delicate lace mantilla he’d bought for Anne. He liked the way she looked in it. She’d been a little surprised, but he didn’t think she minded.
Afterwards, they stopped at a restaurant in the countryside not far from Anne’s hotel. At Reid’s request, they’d been seated at a table in the back, near a fireplace that held a warm, crackling fire. He smiled, looking across the table at his wife. Anne was wearing a long soft blue sweater dress that made him want to put his arms around her and hold her on his lap.
But of course, he didn’t. Instead they ordered their luncheon: cream of morel soup, rack of lamb crusted in bleu cheese and pistachios, baby asparagus and new potatoes, to be followed by a chocolate soufflé. In deference to Anne’s condition, instead of the wine the meal deserved, Reid ordered sparkling water.
After the waiter left, Anne whispered, “This is like our first date. Remember? You talked the waitress into giving us that table in the back by the fireplace even though it was reserved for someone else.” Her face glowed, and Reid didn’t think it was just from the flickering firelight.
“I didn’t want anyone or anything to distract you from me. From my courting you.”
“Courting? Not just trying to get me into bed?” Her smile showed the dimples he loved.
“No, definitely courting. We were going to bed—we both knew that from the first moment we saw each other. But courting meant my intentions were serious. And I wanted you to know they were.”
“I guess so, since we were married in two weeks.” She smiled, leaned over and put her arms around him. “I hardly made it through dinner that night, I wanted you so much.”
“And I you.”
“I love you.”
“And I you,” he repeated. Unwrapping her arms ever so slightly, he took a package from his pocket. The silver paper covering the box was sealed with a sparkling white ribbon. “Happy anniversary.”
Anne slid her arms around him again, kissing him.
He laughed. “Take your present, lassie.”
She did as he asked. “Can I open it now?”
“Please do.”
He watched as she unfastened the ribbon and paper and opened the box. She lifted the intricate jeweled hair combs out of the box, her eyes widening as she felt their weight. Precious jewels winked from around paths of creamy pearls, set on a base of a bronze so dark it looked almost black.
“They’re beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. How do you always know the perfect thing for me?”
He touched her hair, letting it ripple through his fingers. “It’s you that’s beautiful. I thought they would suit you—and your lovely hair. Try them on for me.”
“Thank you. I love them.” She kissed him. “I’ll put them in and show you, but first, I have something for you, too. May I have the car keys? I hid your present in the back.”
He watched as she ran out to the car and then returned, holding a large elaborately wrapped box. He noticed other diners watching them with that same reaction most people had when they saw Anne, especially when she was all but bubbling over with happiness. He hoped no one recognized them, but they had lost so much of their privacy in the past few months that he knew the odds of this moment staying private were not great. She was just too pretty not to stand out.
Nonetheless, he wouldn’t have spoiled her pleasure for anything. He unwrapped the package, revealing an ornate chess set with carved replicas of predator birds serving as the chess pieces.
“Anne, this is spectacular. Where did you find it?”
She let out a sigh of relief. “Do you really like it? I got it from an antique store in Germany. I didn’t go there, of course, but I ordered it from there. You are so hard to buy for. But I thought, with you raising falco
ns and owls, that this was perfect. It can go in your study in the new house.”
He leaned over and kissed her. Privacy be damned. “I love it. My father will be so jealous. Will you play with me sometime?”
She shook her head. “You’re too good. But your father said when I was here the next time that he’d teach me. If I get the chance, if I’m here,” She paused. This, then, was the code they were using for if everything turned out and he was her child’s father. “If I’m here, I think I’ll take him up on that and then practice until I’m good enough to at least hold my own before I play chess with you.”
“I can teach you, lassie.”
She pressed her lips together, narrowing her eyes. “You’d have to promise to be nice.”
He laughed, delighted with her. “Nice chess? Perhaps it’s not your game, my love. Chess is a simulation of war.”
She frowned. “It is?”
“Yes, but I’ll promise to play nice if you’ll play with me.”
Her face was skeptical. “We’ll see.”
He smiled at her. “Please? I don’t want my father to have all your attention.”
She laughed. “No one but you will ever have all my attention.”
“Promise?”
She pointed to her wedding ring. “I promised, and I promise. I’m yours and you’re mine. Now let me go to the ladies’ room and fix the combs in my hair so you can see.”
“Aye, that would be grand.” He watched her as she moved away and wished the day would never end. Then he picked up her mobile phone and quickly installed the tracking device he’d gotten from Stirling. Triangulating her mobile’s signal would probably work if her phone was powered on, but the tracking device would allow him to fix on her location even if the phone was turned off or disabled, or the battery was removed.
Later, he left her at her hotel and drove back to the city, first making sure that the man from Stirling’s security firm was discreetly in place to watch over her without her knowing she was being watched over. He didn’t want to worry her any more than necessary, but he needed to know she was safe.
They agreed that on Friday he would come for her and bring her back to quietly spend next weekend with him. He would set it up so that she could meet with the designer on Saturday and give the next set of authorizations for the house furnishings. Perhaps they would start to make plans for the gardens. With it being spring, this was the time for it, and he was certain she would know exactly what she wanted done. He hoped there would be a lot of brilliant color and soft shades of green that would encircle their quiet haven and keep the world away.
He’d ordered a backyard grill, and thought that he’d try it out for her on the weekend. Steaks or chicken, or fish, for that matter, if that was what she fancied. He made a note to order patio furniture to be delivered before then. It wouldn’t do to have her forever eating picnic-style until the house was furnished. And he’d prod the designer to get the selections for Anne to choose from for the kitchen table and chairs. Meanwhile, he’d get some of those patio gas heaters to keep her warm when they sat outside.
Whatever happened later, for now they were together.
Chapter 48
DETECTIVE INSPECTOR MARK LAWRENCE looked over his shoulder as he passed through the entryway of his apartment building. He ran up the stairs, wrinkling his nose in distaste at the obnoxiously industrial smell of the cleaning product the landlady used on the floors. He’d been half afraid Reid would have someone following him, although he didn’t really think the arsehole suspected him. He’d been hampered all week, however pleasantly, by having Darby teaming with him. He’d had a few moments of concern that she’d want them to work all day today, and he wouldn’t be able to get away to do what he needed to do. But in the end, her la-di-da connections showed and she had announced she had plans for Easter and couldn’t meet with him until nighttime.
Fucking Easter. He’d shaken off Shelley’s invitation to go to her family’s house by telling her he had to work all day and night. Bad luck that the woman he had to cozy up to in order to keep his pipeline to inside information at the upper echelons of CID, had to be not only uglier than mortal sin, but the worst tempered woman he’d ever met.
His ex-wife and children were spending the holiday at his parents’ home. He’d been invited, but he’d be damned if he would show up and let Lottie tear after him in front of his own family. Her explanation of wanting to make sure the children spent time with both of them for Easter was a load of bitch swill. She certainly wouldn’t have agreed to spend the day with him and the children alone. She wanted that buffer of his family so there would be no chance of him making any kind of move on her, or maybe she thought he’d hit her. As if that had happened more than the once. Well, bugger her. He didn’t need the bitch making him look bad in front of his own family.
So instead, he’d spent the day at his friend Billy’s house. Billy’s wife was all right—she’d cooked a killer dinner, then left the men to talk and drink while she and the other women took care of the kids. That, topped off with sex, which he planned to get later tonight, was his idea of a perfect holiday.
He turned the key to his flat and went inside. He took a mental inventory of his liquor cabinet, satisfying himself that he could meet any reasonable request. Having drinks together would be a nice touch and perhaps make the bitter blackmail pill go down easier.
It rankled him that Darby hadn’t invited him to go with her. Family friends, she’d said. Too good for the likes of him, she must have thought. Well, he had made his own plans, hadn’t he? And later tonight, he’d be tumbling the snooty Lady Darby into bed. Why else would she want to meet with him so late on a holiday? Title or not, all women were about the same when they were naked and ready for a man to mount them. And Darby Reid looked like she knew both how to be ridden and to ride.
Right now, though, he had other business to take care of. Delicate business. Delicate, and lucrative. Not as lucrative as his association with Walter Von Zandt, but a little bit of icing on the cake, certainly. Icing that would allow him to wine and dine a woman like Lady Darby Reid in the manner in which she was accustomed, without having to touch what he’d already salted away. She was probably tired of the pasty-faced men she usually had panting after her. She’d be thankful to have a real man show her how a woman should be taken care of.
He’d use what he got from today’s meet to pay for the damage to Billy’s car and to take the high and mighty Lady Darby for a first class weekend break. Maybe they’d go to Ayr for the Coral Scottish Grand National next weekend. Champers and strawberries, if that was what she liked.
And if there was enough left over, he’d make sure young Parson’s family was compensated for what happened to their son. It didn’t need to be a lot. It wasn’t as if the boy had a wife and kids. Besides, it had been Parson’s own fault; the lad just wouldn’t do as he was told. The idiot had had visions of Reid picking him to be on his team and just wouldn’t pull his surveillance on Ramsey. Paid or not, he’d insisted on staying on the job until the morning shift took over. So Lawrence had no choice but to borrow Billy’s car and go out to where Parsons was watching Ramsey’s house. He’d planned to tell the young cop that he’d take over the watch himself, and send him on his way home to mum.
Then Parsons had stepped into the road just as he drove up, and Lawrence had acted instinctively. After he’d dragged the body into the brush, he’d waited for Ramsey’s Mercedes to leave, and followed it without his lights on. He’d pulled in behind a stand of trees near the railroad tracks and waited. Then he’d sat in breathless silence while the drama played out. He’d suspected Von Zandt had ordered the hit, but the man had denied it so vehemently that Lawrence believed him. Which meant the whole situation was a perfect set-up for blackmail.
Lawrence looked around to make sure he had the stage set for the meeting. He kept his flat tidy and he’d set it up as he imagined a bachelor’s flat should look. Black leather, and plenty of stainless steel topped off with
an enormous big screen telly. He’d not be ashamed to entertain Darby here. He took a deep breath, imagining her prancing around his flat naked, then her handcuffed to the bed, begging for him.
God, it was going to be a fucking fantastic Easter. He just needed to get this meeting over with first. Then he’d take Lady Darby on an Easter egg hunt she’d not soon forget.
The knock on the front door woke him from his imaginings. He assumed a nonchalant air and went to let his guest in. Playing the gracious host, he poured generous portions of whiskey. Whiskey was a good drink for business negotiations, providing both courage and relaxation. Not surprisingly, as they pinned down the terms of their mutual cooperation, his guest seemed to relax.
The second knock at the door took Lawrence by surprise. He hadn’t been expecting another visitor. But when Lawrence looked through the Judas hole, he relaxed. This was no one either one of them needed to worry about. As he let the newest visitor in, he felt someone behind him, and too late, sensed danger. He saw the flash of something go over his head and then—quickly—the tightening of something hard and thin around his neck. Wire? He tried to fight, but first he needed to breathe. Gasping, he tried to raise his hands to tear away the awful thing choking him, cutting into his neck, but his hands were jerked away. He barely registered the clicking of handcuffs before he lost consciousness.
Chapter 49
DARBY WAS ANNOYED. No—more like royally pissed. She had expected Lawrence to be waiting for her call. She’d told him she would be busy for part of the day, but they’d agreed to meet later that night, Easter or not.
He was such a pain, thinking he was charming her when she could barely tolerate him. But Terrence had assigned her the job of keeping an eye on the arsehole, and she wasn’t going to shirk her duties, no matter how she felt about her brother. And she was entitled to some time off, time to meet with friends and enjoy a part of the holiday. When she’d found out that John Stirling was going to be at the MacTavishes’ party, her mind had been made up. Of course, she hadn’t planned on confiding in Stirling; that had all just spilled out. Mortifying. She’d meant to seduce him, but now that would have to wait for another time.
