Finding the courage to express her anger to her father had been freeing, had released nineteen years worth of confusion and pain. Even if her father hadn’t heard her, she’d put into words the outrage of a six-year-old who didn’t understand why her father wouldn’t hold her anymore when he read her a story. Or kiss her good-night.
She’d reached rock bottom in that regard. If her father recovered, and she prayed that he would, she was not going to spend one more moment chasing his affection. Nor was she going to spend the rest of her life being denied the physical comforts of her marriage.
Hunter deserved to be loved. To have the old hurts of his past healed.
Even at the risk of being banished from Cort’s life, she had to tell him clearly, unequivocally, that she planned to spend their marriage showing him in thousands of different ways that she loved him and flaying his attempts to dismiss her. It was the only way she’d ever find out if their marriage had a chance of becoming real.
A gust of wind rippled through the trees and stirred a clump of hollyhocks, the flowers ruffling like ladies’ party dresses at a ball. Lexi had waltzed into Ross’s heart and his home never doubting she was his equal. Juliana thought it was high time she asked her own prince to dance.
She hooked her arm back through Brook’s. “I love your brother and I have no intention of ever letting him go. Now, show me the guest cottages. Hunter is bringing a guest back with him today. He seems to be a bit behind schedule, though.”
They took a wide stone path that wound into a woods dense with pine and birch. “Yes, he warned me there would be extra security for a while, but of course, I don’t know why. I’m taking the boys to New York for the weekend to see their fathers. All the live-in staff but Lars are off for the weekend. They leave at three and return Monday morning at seven.”
As they rounded a bend in the path a charming stone cottage with a slate roof came into view. Twin decorative stained-glass windows shaped as scallops bordered the carved oak door. A pot of pink geraniums stood on the front steps.
“This one’s the Chelsea,” Brook said. “Windermere is farther down this path. The cottages are fully stocked and self-sufficient and the guests look after themselves. Hunter doesn’t even allow staff in to clean until after the guests have departed, but I understand the reasons for his caution. He’s protecting his clients as well as his identity.
“Many of the Clairmont’s guests are repeat customers who seek out our hotels because of the extraordinary level of security we can provide. A guest at the Clairmont doesn’t worry about the paparazzi or the crust of their breakfast toast being auctioned off on the Internet.”
“Then you won’t think I’m being paranoid if I ask you to show me where the cave is? Hunter gave me directions but I’d feel better if I knew exactly where it is.”
“You’re not being paranoid. You’re being smart. Hunter’s occupation isn’t without risk. But then, life is one risk after another. The trick to surviving is being knowledgeable and prepared. I’ll show you Windermere, then we’ll head over to Rocky Point. It’s on the other side of the island.”
“Good, and on the way, you can tell me about your ex-husbands. All three of them.”
Brook rolled her eyes. “That’s a short story. Mackensie’s father was the quintessential handsome, older man. I married him to escape my overbearing father only to discover that Howard didn’t respect my needs any more than my father did. The second husband loved me for my money—which Hunter wouldn’t let him have. And the third one, Parrish’s father, well, let’s just say I threw away the best thing that ever happened to me. With the help of a good therapist, I’m trying to move on with my life.”
“So, you’re still in love with him?”
“Yes.” One word and it was said with the confidence of a determined woman. Brook flushed becomingly. “But you don’t know Rand. There’s little chance he’ll ever forgive me for hurting him. Still, he did invite me to stay and have dinner with him on Friday when I drop off Parrish. That’s a first.”
“Only dinner?”
“Yes, only dinner! But it may give us a chance to talk.” A wistful smile touched her face. “I’m hoping he’s ready to listen.”
Juliana nodded knowingly. “Pack some lingerie just in case. A woman has to be prepared to take risks.”
AFTER DELIVERING NONNIE into the hands of the state police and conferring with Investigator Bradshaw about the Younges’ possible involvement in the murder, Hunter raced to the Collingwood estate with a security team and a state trooper.
Gord Nevins and Stacey Kerr appeared shaken by his predawn arrival. The papery texture of their skin and the dark shadows beneath their eyes showed the strain they were living under.
“Is Goodhew…?” The household manager’s question trailed off incomplete.
Hunter quickly reassured them that Goodhew was holding his own, but something had arisen in the investigation and the police felt it prudent Annette be moved to an undisclosed location.
Stacey glanced uncertainly at the state trooper and smoothed a hand over her hair. “Shall I wake her?”
“Not just yet. There were a couple of other matters we thought you could help us with. I understand that David and Sarah Younge sent a gift basket to Goodhew.”
“Yes,” Gord acknowledged. “We put it in his quarters, since we didn’t know where to send it. I thought I might bring one of the books on tape with me for the weekend visit.”
“Trooper Jones would like to examine the basket. We’d also like to know if you have a record of who delivered it?”
“I believe so. If Trooper Jones will follow me, please.”
Hunter turned to Ms. Kerr as the trooper and the household manager left the room. “We’d also like a list of the floral deliveries made to the house and the funeral. Did you keep a record of which deliveries came from which shop?”
“Certainly. Cards occasionally get switched and this way we can double-check if there’s any doubt before a thank-you card is sent out. The list is in my office. It’ll take a few minutes for the photocopier to warm up.”
“Make two copies while you’re at it.”
Hunter followed her through the house to the secretary’s office where a mountain of sympathy cards piled high on a table, waited to be filed into boxes lined up on two library tables.
“What’s this all about?” she asked as she switched on the photocopy machine.
“That’s confidential, I’m afraid.”
She flushed. “But the police are getting closer to finding out who did this?”
“Who do you think did it, Ms. Kerr? You knew the Collingwoods. Lexi probably spoke more openly to you than anyone else in the household.”
She blinked at him, her eyes suddenly guarded. “I don’t know. I can’t imagine anyone wanting to hurt them—Lexi especially. She was such a gracious lady.”
“Not even Kendrick Dwyer? I understand Ross was pushing him to retire.”
“Is that fact or speculation?”
Hunter folded his arms across his chest. “You tell me. You’re the one sleeping with him.”
She pressed her lips together and tapped a manicured fingernail on top of her desk. “How did you know?”
“Educated guess.”
“It was very brief. He’s sicker than he’s letting on. And no matter what you might think of me, I have no desire to be a rich widow.”
“What were you arguing about at the funeral?”
“He wanted to make sure I didn’t tell the police about our involvement. He thought it would jeopardize the company’s stability if it came out. He’s going to try to keep his illness from becoming public as long as possible, then he’s going to throw his support behind the person he felt Ross would have handpicked to succeed him.”
“And who would that be?”
Stacey selected a folder from her desk and moved to the photocopier. “David Younge.”
HUNTER SENT THE TROOPER back to Investigator Bradshaw with a copy of the floral delivery list and t
he gift basket, hoping that David or Sarah Younge’s fingerprints could be lifted off the contents and compared to the unidentified prints found on Juliana’s purse. Or, that the Younges had made a stupid mistake and ordered the flowers which had concealed the bomb from the same florist who’d prepared their sympathy arrangement for the Collingwoods’ funeral.
This could be the lead he’d been hoping for, though he still felt as if a piece of the puzzle was just beyond his grasp.
Annette’s gratification at being taken to see Cort was obvious. As soon as they’d stepped outside the house, Hunter had pulled her aside and informed her they were going to see Cort.
“It’s about time! Where is he? Who has him?”
“All your questions will be answered once we safely arrive at our destination,” he assured her. “For now, all you have to do is sit tight and act as if you’re going away for a few days.”
Annette hugged him. “I can do that.”
They stopped to refuel the chopper and to eat breakfast. Annette, her thoughts obviously far away, pushed her scrambled eggs around on her plate. Her eyes held a disturbing emptiness that made him want to reassure her that she would always have a place in Cort’s life. But now wasn’t the time.
As they returned to the chopper, Hunter took the seat on the bench beside her and patted her hand. “It won’t be long now.”
Her brief smile was taut with nerves. “It feels like I’ve been waiting forever.”
“WHY CAN’T I COME UP to the house now to see him?” Annette demanded when Hunter showed her to Windermere cottage and told her he’d be returning shortly with her nephew.
“Security reasons. With footage of the funeral all over the media, I don’t want to take the chance that one of the servants might recognize you. I know you’re anxious. Bear with me.”
Hunter felt his heart give pause as he came around the edge of the house and saw Juliana and Brook seated on the terrace, their heads close together, enjoying the late-morning sunshine and a cup of tea. Cort rocked in a baby swing, a colored block grasped in each tiny hand, while Parrish swiped at plastic golf balls on the lawn with a toy club. He heard Juliana laugh and a smile began deep inside him and pushed itself to the surface.
Juliana lifted her silver-blond head, the sun bathing her profile with a gilt halo. Hunter felt himself stumble into a void of confusion and desire when she turned her head and saw him, her face softening into a welcoming smile.
He ceased being able to function, his chest tightening with denial as she leaped to her feet and came to greet him. She was wearing jeans this morning and a cream cable-knit sweater.
“There you are, my prince!”
Surprise and wariness at her teasing tone spilled through him as she stroked his cheek then slipped her hand behind his neck and nudged his head down for a kiss. The determined glint in her eyes warned him something was different about her a split second before she kissed him. His hands tightened reflexively around her waist, pulling her lovely jeans-clad body against him as her tongue parted his lips in the sweetest of invasions.
He instantly forgot about Brook and Parrish as his right hand slid up her spine and twined in her loose hair. Slanting his mouth over hers, he countered her sweet invasion with one of his own, taking control of the kiss.
He’d been thinking about kissing her like this ever since he’d made love to her. Once ignited, desire long denied held him hostage until something hit him in the leg and brought him back to the edge of reason. He reluctantly tore his mouth from Juliana’s and looked down at one of Parrish’s golf balls.
Parrish was eyeing him intently, his hands on his bony hips. “Sorry. I said ‘fore’ like I was supposed to, didn’t I, Mommy?”
“You certainly did,” Brook said with a chuckle, “but I don’t think Hunter heard you. I think we need to excuse ourselves and leave these two newlyweds alone.”
“Aw, do I have to ’xcuse myself? I wanna play golf with Uncle Hunter.”
Hunter gave Juliana one last hard kiss on her mouth as if to remind himself where they left off and hunched down beside his nephew. “We’ll have to play another time. I’ve been working all night and I’ve got more work to do.”
Brook took her son’s hand. “Come on, kiddo. We need to pack your bag for your visit to Daddy’s tonight.”
Hunter ruffled his nephew’s hair. “Have fun at your dad’s. I’ll see you Sunday night.”
Juliana pushed back the feeling of shyness as Brook and Parrish walked away. She and Hunter had made love, there was no reason to be shy with him. Resting her head against his chest, she slipped her fingers inside his jacket to warm them. “I was getting worried. You were gone so long. Is everything okay? Is Annette with you?”
He laughed, the sound rumbling against her ear. “That’s a lot of questions.” His arm looped around her, his fingers lightly stroking her hair. She sighed contentedly. She hadn’t exactly told him she loved him and wanted to renegotiate the terms of their agreement, but this was a promising start.
“I’ve got a lot to tell you, but there’s someone in Windermere who’s waiting anxiously to see Cort. Let’s pick him up as if we’re going for a stroll. We can talk on the way over.”
Juliana extracted herself from the warmth of his embrace, her heart paining her as she took a closer look at him. Even with a day’s worth of stubble shadowing his jaw and weary lines bracketing his eyes and mouth, he was the sexiest man she’d ever seen.
Her pulse skipped in anticipation of spending a lifetime comforting him. Sharing his bed. Showing him in numerous ways that she loved him. She caressed his shoulder as he scooped Cort up out of the swing. “Are you making headway in the investigation?”
He swung around with Cort in his arms, his eyes steely with determination. “Yes, finally. We located Nonnie Wilson last night at a New Age retreat in Quebec. I know you don’t want to hear this, but she may be the mole in the Collingwood household.”
Juliana listened with growing skepticism to his account of his conversation with the Collingwoods’ cook. “Admittedly Nonnie’s eccentric and narcissistic, but she’s not exactly Mata Hari. So what if Simon Findlay, the Younges and Sable Holden approached her about catering a private function? That’s not so unusual. She’s an exceptional chef.”
Hunter’s left brow lifted to a cynical angle. “So why did she call the Younges right after I interviewed her?”
“Probably because she wants to work for them. Or she feels some sort of loyalty toward them and warned them you were asking questions about them. You know, just because your family butler betrayed your family doesn’t mean that someone on the Collingwoods’ staff betrayed Ross and Lexi.”
Every angle in Hunter’s face hardened. “Who told you that?”
“Your sister.”
His stride lengthened. “She talks too much.”
“She thought I should know.” Juliana touched his arm. Felt the tight bunch of muscles reacting to her touch. “I’m glad she told me. It explained a few things.”
He stopped abruptly and swiveled toward her. “What things?”
Cort’s eyes grew round as if he sensed the tension between them. “Ba-da?”
Juliana held her ground and calmly faced him. “Like why you wanted a marriage free of emotional and physical entanglements. And why you don’t trust me.”
“You think I don’t trust you?”
“You can hardly say the word without flinching. I saw it in your face in your bedroom Wednesday night. And in your office the next morning.”
“I don’t think this is the right time for this conversation,” he ground out.
“There’ll never be a right time for this conversation, Hunter. My father never let me talk about Michael because it was too painful for him. He never touched me, never hugged me after my brother died. I have been through too much with my father to suffer that kind of treatment from my husband. This may not have started out as a real marriage, but I promised to love and honor you and I’m giving you notice that
I intend to keep that promise.”
“You’re what?”
“You heard me. I love you! And not because of the zeroes in your bank account or that very handsome face of yours. I love you because you have everything and you know that none of that matters as much as protecting and caring for the people you love. So get used to the idea of me loving you.”
It was neither ladylike, nor romantic and it wasn’t quite how she’d planned to share her feelings, but the words had flown out of her mouth and Juliana couldn’t take them back. Wouldn’t take them back. Heart pounding, she turned and stomped down the path toward Windermere.
THUNDERSTRUCK, HUNTER STARED after her as Cort started to cry.
Had Juliana just told him she loved him?
Funny, he didn’t remember anything about Cinderella shouting at her Prince Charming.
But then, Hunter admitted to himself, he hadn’t been the least bit charming. He was not even calm. His knees, in fact, were unsteady. She’d poured her heart out to him and he’d stood there like a Neanderthal trying to make sense of a foreign language, wanting to rage that he’d never asked her to love him.
He didn’t want her to love him.
And furthermore, he absolutely did not want to be standing here watching her walk away from him with this sick feeling of dread in his stomach.
Should he go after her? His heels dug into the path.
And tell her—what?
That he needed her. Oh, God, he needed her! Making love to her the other night had been his salvation and his downfall.
She loved him.
Hunter let the enormity of that thought sink in beneath the din of the baby’s cries as Cort butted his head into his shoulder, seeking comfort. Hunter rubbed his little back. “It’s all right. Don’t cry. Mommy’s just a little upset.”
The thought that he was hurting Juliana sliced his heart into ribbons. She was so beautiful. So good. She’d given up so much for Cort. How could he deny her the affection she so rightly deserved—the affection he craved to give her?
He strode down the path after her, rounded a bend and found her seated on a bench, her back to him, looking out at the river.
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