Lies That Blind

by Diana Rose Wilson

  Christopher looked adorable in his confusion. When Juan murmured something into his ear, his jade gaze drifted across to Sophia and then to Frankie before a blush crawled into his dark skin. “Shit.”

  Juan rolled his eyes and leaned over Christopher to smile warmly at Frankie, saying seriously, “Have mercy and pity upon his soul, lady.”

  “Will you two shut up?” Vivianne scowled but her attention drifted to Sophia’s flowers with a gleam of something like jealousy in her dark eyes.

  “Oh, it is only a flower,” Sophia said, removing hers, before smiling at Frankie as she pinned it to her. “There.”

  Frankie was too shocked to resist and she felt Christopher lean closer, his thumb brushing the spot between her shoulders as he stole a look down at her. It sent a flame of pleasure along her skin and raced around her spine, sparking all the way into forbidden spots between her thighs.

  Dangerous.

  Chapter 4

  Reading of the Will

  The reading of the will was uncomfortable. This was all for the benefit of those gathered rather than legal necessity. Honestly, it felt more like a ritual. It was obvious several people who worked at the Pickled Salamander were expecting to be granted something. Land? Property? Money? Cars? Horses? Favors? Titles?

  Frankie got everything. To do with as she pleased. It was far too much.

  From the looks Oliver, Joey and Vivianne shot her, they did not agree with these arrangements. What did a city girl who had never visited know about the restaurant? The town? Anything?

  Frankie would have given it all up. None of it would bring Amy back. She was tempted to hand it all over to them. She didn’t want any of this.

  Intuition rumbled in the back of her head, This and more is yours by blood and birthright. You need only take it. It will not be traded or bartered.

  Right. Blood and birthright. Her palm itched furiously all the way up to the middle of her back.

  Christopher took her hand when she scratched on her mark and a soothing warmth spread through her, mellowing the ache rather than increasing it.

  The woman who moved in the front of the room carried a thick white fur over her arm and an elegant golden scepter in the other. She was both mature and eternally youthful. She stood regal and tall, her dark skin gleaming. Delphine Dutllet-LeRoux did not look old enough to be Barbara’s grandmother and certainly not a great-grandmother to Christopher.

  “Frankie Welton,” the woman called, her voice steely and strong. “You are the chosen agent of Amy Welton to be caretaker of her lands and estate. Come forward and accept your rightful place.”

  Doubt gnawed at Frankie. Was this her place? Or was she an impostor?

  Christopher, Juan and Sophia offered encouraging nods. Her legs felt leaden and she wasn’t sure if she could stand or not. She wasn’t expecting this sort of show.

  “It’s all right,” Christopher murmured, fingers squeezing hers.

  Vivianne, Oliver and Joey continued to glare.

  Frankie looked around. Every seat was taken and people stood along the walls to witness the spectacle. For the most part everyone seemed supportive, but she could feel the animosity running off those who did not approve. Like Tommy-Tom and his family.

  No wonder Ellen didn’t want anything to do with these people.

  Frankie stood and released Christopher’s hand to stride to the front of the room.

  Delphine’s brilliant emerald gaze gleamed as she held open the fur, and the moment Frankie was close enough, she swirled the soft white pelt around her shoulders with a flourish. “Welcome home, Frankie Welton. We greet you with open arms,” she said with reverence. “Do you promise to steward the land? Do you swear to protect and preserve it?”

  Frankie was too overwhelmed by the tingling sensation of the cedar-scented fur to focus on the words. It sounded like serious tree-hugger shit but she forced her voice to stay strong. “I do. Ah…I will.” She wasn’t quite sure if that was the right way to say it, but Intuition filled her with a happy thrum.

  “Who will pledge their alliance to Frankie Welton?”

  Christopher stood instantly, along with at least two dozen people before the rest of the room rose. A few remained seated and some who stood didn’t look pleased. She noted that Tommy and those around him all got to their feet.

  Frankie wanted to tell them to save their energy if they didn’t want to support her.

  Delphine seemed to hear her thoughts and she chuckled quietly. She passed the scepter to her with a glowing smile. “It is with delight that I present your faithful supporters. The bloodline continues unbroken.”

  Frankie wrapped her fingers around the warm metal and wood of the elaborate jeweled staff. She could read the stances and expressions of those who did not approve of Amy’s chosen agent. Great. Frankie wasn’t so sure she agreed with the choice either.

  You were born to do remarkable things, Intuition whispered with a calm she didn’t feel.

  “‘Welton honor, Welton responsibility, Welton choice.’ That is how the saying goes. So it will always be. Welcome, Frankie Welton.”

  Fists to chests like some crazy military salute, the people in the crowd stood before her. Frankie longed to spin the baton like a proper band leader. She felt ridiculous. Part of her kept waiting for the punch line.

  ‘Surprise, it’s all just a dream. We’re just kidding. Get the fuck out.’

  Delphine offered her a heavy envelope containing the real legal documents and swept her hand to indicate Frankie should retake her seat. With the fur around her shoulders and the scepter in hand, she returned to find Christopher still standing, beaming down at her.

  What in the world did they expect from her? Walking on water? Card tricks? Some wisdom she might have inherited the moment she had the fur draped over her shoulders?

  “What?” she asked as she sat, and he finally eased into the chair beside her.

  Juan leaned over with an amused smile. “He’s expecting you to tap him your champion.”

  “I don’t need any champion.”

  “It’s not an issue of need,” Vivianne said haughtily. “It is a special honor.” Unspoken, but clear in her tone, ‘Don’t you know anything?’

  “Yeah well, I’ll hold a joust and decide,” Frankie said darkly, twirling the scepter, enjoying the weight and balance in it. The movement did not please her future employees and she forced herself to lay the thing across her lap.

  Christopher smiled. “Fantastic. I’m very good on horseback.”

  “He is,” Sophia said, leaning into Vivianne, holding the taller woman’s hand.

  “And sword fighting?” Frankie asked.

  “I can hold my own,” Christopher answered seriously. “Mambo taught me.”

  “You are so full of shit,” she whispered under her breath. “I’d better see it firsthand. Like I said. Jousting.” Frankie turned and met his gaze, parts of her chest filling with heat. Dear God, there was a fierce determination in his expression.

  “Stop teasing him. You think this is a game? This is not a game. You act so flippant and disrespectful. Shame on you.” Vivianne pulled her hand away from Sophia’s and stood, moving with the others who were filing out of the room. Under her breath to Oliver she muttered, “What was Amy thinking?”

  “Don’t mind them,” Juan said and waved after Sophia, who hurried after the group. “Today didn’t go as they expected.”

  Christopher stretched out his long legs and watched Frankie. “And don’t worry about teasing me. I like it. Vivianne is strung too tight right now. When did she get so intense?” he asked Juan.

  “I think it started when Amy got sick.” Juan glanced at Frankie. “No offense, but none of them thought you’d come. You’ve been a bit of a unicorn if you don’t mind me saying. Frankie Welton: the myth. We saw pictures but weren’t sure you were real. Just give them some time to adjust. They’ll come around.”

  “Will be rough for them if they don’t,” Christopher said, looking troubled as he twi
sted in his seat to watch the direction the others were filing out.

  “Yeah? And what were you thinking with the flower and the getup?” Juan hissed. “You trying to piss off Viv?”

  “It was Sophia’s idea. She likes to play dress-up. I didn’t think there was any harm in it.” He glanced down at himself the mark of wine and smiled to Frankie with a tenderness that made her toes curl in her uncomfortable shoes.

  “Man, you have got to set some boundaries with that woman.” Juan drew himself up and saluted fist to chest for Frankie. “He’s a good guy. Just…thinks he has to protect everyone’s honor.”

  Frankie wasn’t quite sure what to think. She looked down at the items in her lap, feeling the soft comfort of the pelt around her shoulders. When Juan and Sean both made their departure, she turned to Christopher. “So, she’s not your girlfriend?” Did that make it better or worse? Certainly, more dangerous.

  Christopher laughed and said, “No. We were sweethearts in high school. We were going to get married right after graduation. Instead, it turned out she loves Vivianne,” he said quietly, like it was an old story he was barely part of.

  “Oh.” Frankie stared a moment. “And yet you wear her flowers and let her dress you?”

  “All right, Welton, it was only a tie and a flower. I buttoned up myself. Sophia needed support today. She’s like a sister to me. I didn’t think how it might look to you. I didn’t consider you wouldn’t realize I’ve been waiting for you.”

  “Me?” She blinked, her fingers wrapping tightly around the scepter in case she might need to use it to beat him off. “Me?” she asked again, meeting his eyes, reading only honest joy in his expression. “That’s creepy. You get that, right?”

  He shook his head and rolled one shoulder. “No. You see, Sophia broke the news to me on our wedding day. I went overseas to work at some restaurants in Scotland. I didn’t think I had a future here. Amy brought me home after my sister Kelly died.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  “I want you to understand. It’s not strange in the context of events. When I got back to the States I was feeling very sorry for myself. I…was an idiot. Amy showed me this picture of you. You were at a fight. I think you’d just won. You looked radiant. She told me to look at the picture and not to give up or feel sorry for myself. I have wanted to tell you how much that picture meant to me all these years. You got me through the worst days of my life. I want to repay the favor.”

  “As my champion? That’s really a thing?”

  “It certainly is.”

  “Without knowing the expectations, how do I know you’re the best fit? Is this a…platonic sort of arrangement? Who was Amy’s champion?”

  “Well, you need someone to look after your best interest. Not just watching your back, but there’s that. Someone you can come to for advice. For sanctuary. Guidance. It is an honor above and beyond anything sexual. Amy had Sebastian and Mambo.”

  “That’s good, because I’m off limits.” Her throat felt tight as she said it. She remembered how horrified Dave looked when she had tried to touch him or kiss him. She didn’t think she could stand seeing that expression on Christopher’s handsome face. ‘Dangerous,’ Dave had warned her. The uncomfortable sensation of touch.

  Except she wasn’t feeling that now. Christopher didn’t seem afraid or in pain. Yet. She wanted to see just how strong he was, imagining wrestling the big man roughly to the ground, bruising his mouth with hers.

  He must have noticed where her eyes rested on his mouth because his grin widened as though he could read her filthy fantasy.

  He didn’t comment on the sexual part. “I have good qualities to offer. I find missing shoes for one thing and I make the world’s best waffles.” His lashes swept down as he flashed dimples at her.

  “Modest, too.”

  “You haven’t tried them yet. You’ll see.” He was so relaxed and confident that she did have the sense he honestly had been waiting for her.

  That she had been waiting for him.

  The room was mostly empty now. Offering his hand, he stretched out his fingers, showing her his palm. Across the skin was a dark shadow. It crossed diagonal from his index finger to wrist and looked like a skeleton key.

  “My mark,” he said with cheerful lack of insecurity about the stain on his dark skin.

  She uncurled her gripped fist to show him her palm, accusingly.

  His smile widened and he tipped his head to one side. The steady gaze drifted from her thrust out palm in the stop poise back to her eyes.

  “A feather,” he decided.

  “A burn,” she corrected and he frowned, brows creasing.

  “Burn?” he asked, as though he didn’t understand what a burn was.

  “Yeah. I grabbed something hot when I was a baby.”

  “Who told you that?” he asked with a hint of accusation.

  “Ellen and Frank. They were there when I grabbed the pot.”

  He moistened his lips, confusion in his gaze. “Your parents? They said that?”

  “Yes. Ellen hated it. She had a doctor try to remove it. It hurt like hell and then… Hey, you okay?”

  He looked like he might get sick. He curled his fingers into a fist, pressing it against his chest and the wine stain she left on him.

  “It came back. Obviously.” She rolled her eyes. “I don’t recommend the process.”

  He choked out, “No. I should say not.” He lifted his hand and held it out again. “Put your hand here.”

  She lifted her shoulders and offered her hand. The warmth of his touch as his fingers closed around hers felt extraordinary. Not a handshake; an exchange.

  “Frankie Welton,” he said, turning her hand over to expose her palm, “I am very honored to meet you. This mark is a part of you. It belongs to you and makes you who you are. Never be ashamed of it. Don’t you see?” His gaze shifted from her eyes to the blemish and traced a finger along the center of the roughened skin as though he were showing her a rare treasure.

  Normally the orange flesh felt numb, but when touched it was like glass shards stabbing through her hand. She braced for the discomfort but under the strong pad of his finger, the touch was a warm caress of pleasure. Her eyelids grew heavy and she let out a sigh of unrestrained relief at his reverent touch.

  “No one here will ever hurt you like that.” His voice was almost a growl as he stilled his touch and cupped his hand over hers.

  Her eyes snapped open to find him watching her, his expression serious. She found it difficult to breathe under the intensity.

  “Do you understand?” he asked, holding her hands like he would something fragile.

  “I can take care of myself,” she answered.

  “Your ability isn’t in question. I am saying you’re safe now and among friends. We do not allow our friends to be tortured and disfigured here.”

  “Disfigured?” she asked in a low voice. “You’re saying I’m dis—”

  “That doctor tried to take away your mark. That’s…barbaric,” he said carefully and squeezed her hand to underscore his words. “Who sanctioned that?”

  “Ellen. Frank was gone by then. It’s ugly. I wanted the horrible mark gone.” Ellen’s words spilled out of her mouth.

  He uncurled his hand from hers, frowning as though she spoke a language he didn’t understand. Rather than argue, he leaned forward and whispered across her palm before she could close her fingers over the ugly stain.

  Her skin tingled from the spot into the center of her chest and spread out in golden webs in time with her heartbeat. She slumped under the rush of sensation, falling into him, and he caught her with the same ease he’d used to sweep her off her feet.

  He regarded her, apparently shocked for a moment. Then he coaxed her fingers closed, drawing them to his chest. “You should know more about it before cutting at it,” he whispered, shielding her closed fist with his hand.

  “How did you do that?” she asked when she felt her voice wouldn’t hum
iliate her by cracking.

  “It’s an old wives’ tale… You wouldn’t believe it,” he said, watching her expression.

  “Oh really? Try me.”

  He hesitated, jade eyes intense as though he didn’t trust her with this truth. “Tradition says,” he said formally. “That blood calls to blood, that’s family you see. Heart calls to heart, that’s…love.”

  “Love,” Frankie let the word wilt off her tongue. “You tickle someone’s palm and that’s love. Yeah, okay, buddy.”

  “You don’t have to believe it. I’m answering your question to the best of my ability, Lady,” he said with an edge but his touch remained gentle.

  “I bet you could do that to anyone,” Frankie argued, pulling her hand free. Ridiculous.

  “It hasn’t ever happened before,” he assured her with an absolute lack of artifice. She thought about her own blemish and the nails-on-chalk-board discomfort anytime someone touched it.

  A heartbeat later he held his hand out to her in silence.

  She glanced around the room as though she might get caught doing something dirty rather than just touching his hand. She had tossed out the challenge. She must follow through. The texture of his mark felt supple and warm under her touch. When she caressed along the surface, his body tightened with a start of apparent surprise. She experienced an echo of the pleasure through her fingertips. On impulse, she inclined her head closer and breathed against his skin.

  “Frankie,” he gasped in startled warning.

  She found herself supporting his substantial weight and smirked at his stunned expression. It only lasted a moment before he rebalanced himself and slid his arm around her, pulling her in tight. Then it was her turn to suck in the startled breath as she found herself nose to nose with him, full of his wild cedar scent, his hot breath against her cheek.

  He slipped his hand free and cupped her cheek, brushing his thumb along her chin as he held her gaze. He let out a breath and pressed his cheek to her hair. “Will you please let me escort you home?”