by S. K Munt
The tension in the house eventually flat-lined to the point where they could all make small talk without snapping at each other, dividing into various camps based on compatibility. Lachlan and Sahori spent a lot of time together, exchanging skills and talking with animation about a variety of things. They were more at ease than the rest of the mers, clearly loving the experience, especially Sahori who like Ivyanne, had been kept on a very tight leash. This was the first time she’d been allowed into the world unchaperoned and was milking it, trying new foods, staying up as late as she could and flirting with every willing recipient.
Camus and Garridan were making strategy plans for flushing Ardhi out and defeating him-disappearing into the surveillance room for hours at a time to talk tactics out of Ivyanne’s earshot, who still couldn’t handle hearing Ardhi’s powers (or rather how he’d used them) spoken of. Lincoln could see that they were enjoying themselves immensely despite their serious natures-and really what could entertain a man more than playing the role of hero/general? Spy/warrior? When Lincoln, Tristan and the other boys joined in on their conversations, voices became deeper, eyes shone and triggers were fingered with barely restrained glee. Lincoln would leave those discussions with a manly swagger that he’d later reflect upon and laugh about.
Price and Tristan hung out sporadically, but Tristan locked himself in their room a lot, typing away and making calls Lincoln was never close enough to hear, while Price seemed to spend an awful lot of time on the phone, texting someone and smiling a lot.
The recipient of those texts was revealed on Thursday, when Price broached the subject with Lincoln in his usual direct way-asking Lincoln if it was ‘acceptable’ if he ‘courted’ Adele.
Lincoln told him to go for it, though secretly he doubted Adele would. She was too much of a diva to be satisfied with someone so quiet and centered with no credit rating. But he encouraged Price to try, on the hope that if he succeeded, the Tristan Loveridge Fan Club numbers would deplete accordingly.
Saraya, who had been quiet all week, and especially reserved around Tristan, spent most of her time with Joyce and Pintang, usually watching Pintang cook while Joyce regaled them with three lifetime’s worth of anecdotes. She was a lovely older woman who admitted to coveting a daughter of her own, having only born Dalton herself. Because she had a background in nursing, like his own mother, Lincoln often caught himself drifting towards her to bask in the maternal glow.
Lincoln’s mother was on his mind a lot. Lincoln remembered the way she used to pump him for information about Ivyanne, as curious as he about her life, and fascinated by her beauty and the other ‘girlish’ qualities that Lincoln couldn’t provide. She’d often commented on Ivyanne’s understated attire, clearly daydreaming about pinning the girl down and attacking her with ribbons and sequins. But towards the end, she’d stopped asking about Ivyanne, obviously disappointed that official introductions were never made, and had started encouraging him to date other girls in school, while his father remained indifferent to the subject as a rule.
He wondered what his parents would think now, if they knew what was going on. Lincoln had sent his father away three days after Ardhi’s attack, wanting him removed from the possibility of another violent confrontation. Chase had called six times to check in, but hadn’t asked for any details, clearly at a loss to provide either advice or encouragement for a species he didn’t really understand. Lincoln was happy to keep it that way-he didn’t want to add to his father’s worries. Besides, what would he tell him?
Before he knew it, the weekend was upon them again and Lincoln knew that Ivyanne was desperate to get them out of her hair. It had been decided that on the weekends, the guard would be dismissed, the house would be locked down like a fortress, and Garridan would take Ivyanne and Saraya far out to the reef to live as real mer were intended to-hoping that indulging Ivyanne in forty-eight hours of swim time would prevent her going out the window again. Lincoln fretted about her being out from under his watch-but he trusted Garridan to pick somewhere safe. Besides, the resort needed him, and going along with the queen wasn’t an option anyway.
So arrangements were made and bags packed. Sahori, Lachlan and Price would accompany Lincoln to The Seaview, off duty officially, though he knew they would be on red alert the whole time. Camus and Joyce were taking their boat down to visit Dalton at the yacht club, Tristan was flying back to Sydney that afternoon to get some more work done, Pintang was going to see her parents and Garridan was squirreling Saraya and Ivyanne away to some remote island he wouldn’t disclose the name of to anyone but Camus.
‘This is incredible!’ Lincoln said early Friday morning when he had his first bite of Pintang’s banana french toast. There were so many complimentary flavors on his tongue at one time that he couldn’t even pick which stood out the most. ‘Where did you come up with the idea of cooking them in the skin?’
Pintang waved her hand. ‘Just something I picked up once.’
‘This really is good,’ Tristan agreed from his position by the rear kitchen door. He was on duty, but Pintang had made him breakfast as well, which was he was eating on his feet-and without the bacon of course. ‘I should have let you make me breakfast a long time ago.’
‘I believe I offered once,’ Pintang cracked.
Lincoln glanced at Tristan, and saw the other man smile. ‘Yeah well…. true.’
Lincoln immediately glanced over at Ivyanne, relieved to see that she didn’t flinch at Pintang’s flirtation with Tristan. Part of him had been terrified that she’d consider his suggestion to screw Tristan to get him out of her system. He’d meant it at the time, but he still sincerely hoped she didn’t actually need to follow through with it. She’d never actually responded-rendering him unconscious instead of continuing the row, making Lincoln feel uncertain about where the lines were drawn in the sand now. He supposed he had no choice but to deal with whatever happened as it happened and stop wasting valuable energy worrying about what yet hadn’t.
He had another mouthful of maple-syrup soaked toast before initiating contact with her. ‘Are you excited about going to the reef Ivyanne?’
She smiled at him. ‘What do you think?’ She chuckled lightly. ‘I’ve had my bag packed since Wednesday.’
‘What’s in the bag?’ Tristan asked.
‘A book.’ Ivyanne grinned. ‘And that’s it.’
‘No swimsuit? Ahh...to be a fly on a coconut tree…’
Even Lincoln laughed at that, once again, agreeing with his nemesis. To prevent the conversation going downhill, as Ivyanne’s eye-rolling hinted was possible, Lincoln turned his attention back to Pintang-waving a forkful of syrupy toast at her.
‘And just so you know, you’re welcome to come back with me Pintang…. Chef’s Lee’s days are numbered now that you’ve served me this. His job is yours anytime you want it.’
‘Oh no you don’t!’ Tristan put his empty plate down on the kitchen table and shouldered his rifle once more. ‘I’ve found a perfect location, right here in Airlie Beach for Pintang to make her culinary debut.’
Pintang stopped what she had been doing, gaping at Tristan. ‘Come again?’
‘You found her a restaurant?’ Ivyanne squeaked.
Tristan nodded, grinning. ‘It’s small and cosy, waterfront, and because it shares a plot with a hairdresser, the rent isn’t horrendous as some of the locations around here. I think you could turn a profit easily with it.’
Pintang made a face. ‘Though I appreciate your effort Tristan, ‘Not too horrendous’ rent is still more than I can afford at the moment!’
‘You don’t have to!’ Tristan was grinning. ‘You’ve got yourself a backer.’
Pintang’s oven-mitt ensconced hands went to her cheeks. ‘You want to back me?’
Tristan shrugged. ‘If that’s okay with you.’
Pintang squealed and raced around the bench, throwing her arms around Tristan. ‘Of course I do! Tristan, this is incredible! You’re such a sweetheart!’ She planted a big, wet
kiss on his cheek. ‘My own restaurant? For real?!’
Lincoln had to restrain a sigh as Tristan upstaged him once more. What was a job offer compared to a lease? He dared another look in Ivyanne’s direction and saw that her delicate jaw was clenched. There was no way she could resent Pintang’s gift, that wasn’t her style-so clearly it was the affection between the new partners that was bugging her. Lincoln swallowed and tried to look happy for Pintang, knowing he was a shit head for worrying about Tristan’s generosity making him look bad. He definitely had some evolving left to do! Besides, how could he resent what was about to bring Pintang and Tristan closer?
‘I think you’ve earned a break,’ Tristan said fondly, blushing from all of the attention. For once it seemed genuine and not a show put on for Ivyanne’s benefit. ‘And you’re an incredible cook. The sooner we get you out here, the better.’
Pintang looked awed. ‘Can you afford it?’
Tristan snorted. ‘Okay now let’s not start off this joint venture by offending me,’ he joked. ‘I’ve been running numbers all week and it’s more than feasible.’
‘That’s what you’ve been doing?’ Lincoln asked.
‘Yep.’ Tristan said. ‘And Sven’s on board too-we’ve been wanting to branch out into a different sort of investment for awhile but had no time to look around.’
‘But...didn’t you lose contracts when everyone thought you were dead?’ Ivyanne asked. ‘Sven mentioned that. Have they come back?’
‘Groveling.’ Tristan confirmed. ‘But we don’t need them anyway-Especially now that Absalom have offered me a job twice the size of the one I originally flew to Hawaii for.’
‘They did?’ Ivyanne asked, eyebrows shooting up. ‘Really this time?’
‘Yep! And I had a Skype conference with Mark Schorer just to be sure that it wasn’t another ploy.’ He grinned. ‘It’s amazing what surviving a plane crash can do for your career, isn’t it?’ He turned back to Pintang. ‘Anyway-I’ve already managed to finagle the keys out of the broker handling the place. We can go down and check it out as soon as my shift’s over.’
‘Oh my goodness!’ Pintang looked as though she might float away. ‘I love you, you know that?’
Lincoln felt like he was going to lose his breakfast.
‘When you say you’ve been offered a larger job with Absalom….’ Ivyanne began, her musical voice somewhat strained, ‘are you inferring that you’ve signed a contract in Anaheim?’
Tristan looked at her, some of the light fading from his eyes as his face rearranged itself into a more reserved expression. ‘Actually Ivyanne, this non-fabricated deal is for San Diego.’
‘San Diego California?’ Lincoln repeated.
‘You’re going to have to go back to the U. S.’ Ivyanne’s words were stated, not asked, and her complexion had lost it’s color.
Tristan nodded. ‘Three weeks and six days from now, I’m out of here.’
Lincoln computed what was going on-read between the lines unspoken. The time limit...Tristan’s renewed vigor….Ivyanne’s obvious distress.
‘How long will you be gone for?’ he asked, beating Ivyanne to the question she was clearly struggling to ask.
Tristan leaned against the door, but looked at Ivyanne when he responded: ‘Six weeks. Don’t worry-I’ve discussed it with Garridan. If we haven’t nabbed Ardhi by the time I leave, Sahako is going to fly in and replace me while I’m gone. I’m not happy about leaving, but I can’t continue to neglect the company either, not when it’s been offered this kind of opportunity. And it’s me Mark wants heading the project, not Sven. Trust me, I put out feelers.’ He paused. ‘Hopefully Ardhi will come after me again anyway.’
Lincoln didn’t know what to think. On one hand, he was overjoyed at the prospect of getting Tristan out of his hair for six weeks. But on the other... Ivyanne’s shaken demeanor spoke volumes about how unhappy she was at the prospect. Lincoln realized once again, how well Tristan was playing the game.
‘I don’t believe it,’ Ivyanne stammered. ‘Six weeks?’
‘You say that as though that will make a difference of some sort,’ Tristan said quietly. ‘Are you forgetting the conversation we had last Sunday?’
Ivyanne stood up, her chair scraping against the floor. ‘Are you?’ she demanded hotly. ‘You’ve given me a one month window-but you have to leave in a month. So if I choose you, I have less than that, don’t I? Two weeks? Three at most? I can hardly depart for a one year honeymoon without having the wedding first-’ her flashing eyes landing on Lincoln’s and her voice stopped as suddenly as his heart had.
‘I didn’t realize you would see it that way,’ Tristan said softly. ‘But yes, I guess you’re right. Unless we wed overseas.’
‘Well…. so long as you give me the name of the gift register so my wedding present ends up in the right place!’ Lincoln thundered, getting to his feet. He had never been so blind-sided before in his life.
‘Lincoln don’t!’ Ivyanne’s hand reached for his arm, but he flung it off violently. ‘I didn’t mean it like that!’
‘Then how did you mean it?’ Tristan demanded.
‘Both of you leave her alone!’ Lachlan’s voice silenced them as he strode into the room, his usually happy-go-lucky grin gone. ‘Maybe the girls are getting some sort of sick thrill out of watching Ivyanne batted around like a cat toy, but I am sure as hell over it. Lincoln, untwist your knickers! You can’t erupt every time she reminds you that yes, she has a choice to make. And Tristan-cool it. You should have known that announcing that would have caused a scene. How about you tell her in private next time?’
Lincoln turned on his heel and stalked off as his heart broke for the umpteenth time. Lachlan was right, but Lincoln had vowed to fight for his love, and he knew that if he stayed in the room, ‘fighting’ would translate to throwing actual punches. Or screaming. And Ivyanne would bear some of his wrath-couldn’t she try a little harder to spare his feelings?
‘Bit hard, when I don’t get a chance to talk to her in private.’ Tristan muttered from his position by the door.
‘Well then don’t broach it in front of Lincoln. You’re smart-act it!’
Lincoln had made it to the front door, and was aware of the sound of bare feet chasing after him. As he opened the door, Ivyanne’s hand encircled his wrist.
‘Link come on! Don’t leave angry! I can’t handle it!’
Lincoln whirled on her. ‘You can’t handle anything! You’re like a bull in a china shop when it comes to my feelings, but when it comes to yours, you become a china doll!’ he snapped. ‘I’m sick of having to bite my tongue so I don’t tell you I love you, or that I hate him-and I’m sick of having to stuff my hands in my pockets because they can’t reach for you or wring his neck! You’ve blamed a lot of your iffy behavior on withdrawals, well now I’m filing a claim!’ He shook his head as he glared down at her, removing her hand, which seared his flesh and stole his breath as much as it always did, despite his rage. ‘I’m horny and sad and pissed off and I deserve to be! I’m going up to my room to pack and then I’m going back to Seaview, where I’m wanted. Enjoy the reef, your highness, because if Tristan gets his way, it might be your last chance to see it for awhile!’
With that, Lincoln strode across the lawn separating the main house from the guest house, feeling steam coming out of his ears. For the first time, he had a genuine reason to be angry with Ivyanne, and he didn’t plan on letting her beautiful face work it out of him. For once she could be the one to sweat.
*
Ivyanne put down the pen and shook out her aching hand, cringing, before carefully folding the letter and slipping it into it’s envelope. ‘That’s fifteen,’ she said to Saraya. ‘Have you got that seal?’
Saraya, who was sitting on the other side of the polished mahogany desk, passed the seal and the still warm wax stick to Ivyanne. ‘I’d almost forgotten how to do this,’ she confessed. ‘How bad is that? Your mum and I developed an awful e-mailing habit over those last few mo
nths on Bracken, I’m afraid. It’s kind of nice to go back to the old way.’
‘So long as I soak my hand in a bucket of ice soon, yes.’ Ivyanne heated the wax, letting the deep burgundy stuff drip onto the back of letter until there was enough for the seal. She’d preoccupied herself with writing a personal letter to the head of each Marked family, informing them about the amendments to the old laws, to distract herself from thoughts of Tristan’s latest revelation and Lincoln’s outburst. In two hours, she’d been making her way to the reef, removed from all of the drama physically, if not mentally. She just had to hang on until then.
Ivyanne pressed the seal into the wax, held it there for a moment, then removed it. It left the perfect imprint of a crown, with a replica of Ivyanne’s tattoo in the middle-the Court family symbol. She smiled at her handiwork, then blew on the wax. ‘How old is this thing anyway?’
‘Beats me.’ Saraya wiped her hands on her short denim cut-offs. ‘I think it’s from Ivy’s reign…. maybe six hundred years old? Look how brittle the wood is.’
‘Find out for me,’ Ivyanne said, fingering the cracked handle. ‘When you can. I’d like to start cataloguing all of the old heirlooms, just to know for myself.’
‘Sure.’ Saraya took the envelope from Ivyanne’s hand, to address it. ‘By the way, you’ve got an e-mail from the real estate agent. You must have missed it.’
‘Oh?’ Ivyanne had almost completely forgotten about the sale of her house. The profits of which, would go to whoever caught Ardhi. She reached for the computer and went to her mothers inbox, clicking on the link and scanning the contents quickly. ‘No offer for three point five yet,’ Ivyanne said, stopping to loop her hair into a high bun on the crown of her head and securing it with a tie on the desk. ‘Seven people have put in bids-the closest is two point two.’
