He winked at her.
“All of the women in our family, including Georgina, are proud AKAs,” Lenore said in lofty tones. “You would have benefited from becoming one as well.”
“I’m sure I would have,” Lexi murmured. She felt as if she were being evaluated and judged on some point system, her worth going up and down faster than fluctuating NASDAQ averages. She knew she’d just had major points deducted for not belonging to a sorority.
Across the table, Quentin’s mother gave her a gentle, reassuring smile.
“Well.” Lenore picked up her glass. “At least you had the good sense to attend Spelman.”
“Yes, I did.” Lexi grinned, wondering how many points she’d just gained back.
As the old woman delicately sipped her wine, Lexi picked up her fork and took a bite of the succulent tenderloin. She hoped she’d earned a reprieve from Lenore’s interrogation.
No such luck, she realized as the old woman’s probing gaze returned to her.
“I understand you were married before.”
Oh, shit, Lexi thought as heat suffused her face. She could feel her points plummeting into deficit territory, but she maintained her composure.
“Yes,” she said quietly, acutely aware that all eyes were on her. “I was married for two years.”
“Why did you get a divorce?”
“Mother,” Georgina, Edward and Olivia interjected sharply.
“What?” Lenore arched a brow. “I’m simply trying to get to know the girl better.”
“Is that what you’re doing?” Quentin said caustically.
Lexi reached under the table and put her hand on his thigh. His muscles were rigid and vibrating with tension, and his eyes glittered with menace in the soft light.
When their gazes met, she nodded to let him know it was okay. Then she steeled her spine and raised her chin to meet his grandmother’s imperious gaze. “I divorced Adam because we were incompatible.”
Fine wrinkles appeared between Lenore’s perfectly arched brows. “Incompatible?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Lexi said with a humorless smile. “We had different interpretations of our wedding vows—namely the part about ‘forsaking all others’ and being faithful.”
Comprehension filled Lenore’s eyes. “I see.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, Alexis,” Olivia offered sympathetically.
Lexi gave an elegant shrug. “Qui naît poule aime à caqueter,” she said, her French as fluid as the Seine. “A leopard can’t change its spots.”
Lenore blinked in surprise. “You speak French?”
“Oui.”
A glint of admiration sparked in the old woman’s eyes.
Before Lexi could celebrate the points she’d just gained, Lenore said crisply, “What about your parents? What do they do? Are they—”
“Enough.” Quentin’s voice cracked like a whip over the table, shocking everyone into silence.
Startled, his grandmother stared at him.
“You people made my mother feel like an outcast,” he snarled with barely suppressed fury. “I’ll be damned if I sit here and let you do the same to my wife.”
Lexi murmured, “Quentin—”
But he’d apparently had enough.
“I mean, what more do you want to hear?” he demanded, glaring at his grandmother. “What haven’t you already uncovered in your background search? Did you learn that she skipped two grades in elementary school? Or that she graduated with honors from Spelman and was named salutatorian? Did you find out that she mentors Spelman students? That she serves on the National Alumnae Association committee and received their Hall of Fame Award for the outstanding work she does for the college and the community? Did you learn that her debut cookbook, Vive la Soul, won the prestigious James Beard Award, and her second cookbook is doing so well it’s now in its sixth printing?”
The silence in the room was deafening.
Quentin looked at Lexi, rage radiating from his pores. “Did I miss anything?”
She swallowed hard and shook her head.
He returned his glare to Lenore. “I’m sure you learned all about my wife’s many noteworthy accomplishments. But instead of asking her about those things, you’d rather grill her about sororities and who she was married to and who her people are.”
Lenore lifted her chin, giving Quentin a censorious look. “I see you’re just as defiant and stubborn as your mother.”
“No, ma’am, I’m worse.” His narrow smile was chilling. “Much worse.”
The old woman stared in shock for a moment, then lifted a trembling hand to her throat and sent an uneasy glance around the stunned room. “If you can’t be civil—”
“You don’t deserve my civility.” Quentin’s cold gaze raked over the table before returning to his affronted grandmother. “Don’t mistake my presence here for acceptance of what happened in the past. I only came here this weekend as a courtesy to my mother. But the longer I sit here listening to you talk, the more I realize you’re probably never going to change. You are who you are. You believe what you believe. Many years ago, you and your husband decided that my father wasn’t good enough for your daughter. He didn’t have the right pedigree. He wasn’t your kind of people. But here’s the thing: Fraser Reddick’s ‘inferior’ blood runs through my veins. So if he wasn’t good enough for you, then neither am I.”
With that, Quentin tossed his napkin down on the table, then stood and stalked out of the dining room.
Lexi stared after him, her heart twisting with sadness and frustration. After a few moments, she turned to look at the shocked faces around the table.
Lifting her chin, she said evenly, “I just wanted to clarify something that Quentin shared. I didn’t skip two grades in school because I was a whiz kid or anything. Oh, I was smart enough, but I pushed myself extra hard because I was eager to grow up and leave home. You see, I didn’t come from a good home like this. I wasn’t born into such a fine, upstanding family. My father was a lying cheat, my mother was miserable and abusive, and the apartment I grew up in was probably the size of this fancy dining room. When I was a little girl, I prayed for my mama to win the lottery so we could move to a nicer place and start enjoying the finer things in life. I would have given anything to live in a grand house like this. But God didn’t see fit to answer those prayers. Turns out He had something much better in store for me, and that something was Quentin.” A smile softened her face. “That defiant, stubborn, wonderful man is all I could ever want or need. As long as we’ve got each other, nothing and no one else matters.”
With as much poise and dignity as she could muster, she pushed back her chair and rose from the table.
There were tears shining in Quentin’s mother’s eyes. Edward and Olivia looked downright proud.
The rest were staring at her, stunned speechless.
She dipped into a deep curtsy and smiled, all Southern belle charm. Then she turned on her heel and strode from the room with her head held high.
One of the servants directed her to the porch, where she found her husband standing with his hands thrust into his pockets and his long legs braced apart as he brooded under the moonlight. He didn’t turn as she came up quietly beside him.
“Well,” she murmured. “That was rather…interesting.”
Quentin didn’t say a word.
Undeterred, she joked, “One thing’s for sure. No one can ever say we don’t know how to make a memorable exit.”
He didn’t even crack a smile.
“Oh, come on, Red. That was kinda funny.”
He turned his head slowly to stare at her. “Do I look amused?”
“Not yet. But I’m just getting warmed up.”
When she saw a flicker of humor in his eyes, she grinned and tucked her hand through his arm. “Come on, let’s go for a walk.”
He surveyed the sprawling grounds of the estate, then cast a dubious glance at her stilettos and lifted a brow at her. “You sure that’s a good idea?”
“Not when you’re wearing five-inch high heels.”
“They’re four inches,” she corrected. “And I’ll be fine. Come on, sweetie. It’s such a beautiful night, so nice and balmy. Let’s enjoy it.”
When he acquiesced with a nod, she reached for his hand.
“Wait.” He slipped out of his suit jacket and gently draped it over her shoulders. It hung on her like a coat. She snuggled into its warmth, letting the heat that lingered from his body seep into her own as his clean scent enveloped her.
He took her hand, and together they set off down a cobbled path that meandered beneath a canopy of oaks dripping with Spanish moss.
“We’re leaving tomorrow,” Quentin said darkly. “I can’t stay here another day.”
“Yes, you can. You have to.”
“Says who?” he challenged.
Lexi sighed. “Come on, Quentin. We came here for your mother. She hasn’t seen her family in over forty years. It wouldn’t be fair to cut her visit short.”
Quentin scowled but didn’t argue.
She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it. “Thank you for having my back.”
“What’re you thanking me for?” he said gruffly. “Did you think I’d just sit there and let that woman talk to you crazy? She already knew the answers to the questions she was asking. All she was trying to do was humiliate you and put you in your place. She’s a goddamn snob, and I have no patience for her bullshit.”
“I hear you.” Lexi sighed and gazed around the grassy meadow blanketed with gently swaying oaks. “You have to admit. It is rather beautiful out here.”
Quentin grunted, conceding nothing.
“Can’t you just see Junior here during the summertime, climbing these big trees and frolicking with his cousins?”
“No,” Quentin said flatly.
Lexi could only laugh.
Holding hands, they left the cobbled path and started across the meadow, venturing further away from the house. The night was still and peaceful, and the clean woodsy smell of earth and trees perfumed the air.
“How far does Mama Wolf live from here?” Lexi wondered aloud.
“About twenty minutes.”
“Really? If there’s time, we should go visit her before we leave.”
Quentin smiled for the first time that evening. “We could do that. It’d be good to see her again.”
“Definitely.” Lexi paused. “Oh, wait. I just remembered that Mama Wolf attends your grandparents’ church, right? So we’ll see her on Sunday.”
Quentin frowned. “I didn’t realize we were going to church with the family.”
Lexi chuckled. “Of course we are. It’d be rude not to.” She looked up at the full moon, alternately veiled behind the fast-moving clouds and then sliding into view again. “You know what I find interesting?”
“What?”
“According to what you’ve always told me, your grandfather’s the one who disinherited your mother. But based on what we saw tonight, your grandmother seems more set in her ways than he does. If I didn’t know better, I would think she was the one who insisted on disowning your mom.”
“It doesn’t matter who made the decision,” Quentin growled. “They all fell in lockstep and shunned one of their own, so they’re all to blame. There were no innocent people at that table tonight.”
“Except the children,” Lexi pointed out. “They’re not responsible for the actions of grown adults who should know better. So I have no problem with Edward and Olivia’s kids, and I hope you don’t either.”
“I don’t,” Quentin grumbled.
“That’s good.” Lexi smiled, but then her tone turned thoughtful. “You know, your mother reminds me of Sterling Wolf. Most people wouldn’t have been able to forgive Celeste for what she did, cheating with another man and deserting her family. But Sterling forgave her. What’s more, he never badmouthed her to Michael and Marcus, and he played peacemaker every chance he got. Hell, he even lets Celeste and Grant stay at his house when they come for visits.”
“He’s a better man than me,” Quentin said darkly. “As far as I’m concerned, Grant is damn lucky he’s still breathing.”
“I know,” Lexi said with a wry grin. “You and Stan would have killed him a long time ago.”
“Hell, yeah.”
“That’s what I mean about your mother. I’m amazed at how calm and composed she was over dinner tonight. And the way she was strolling through the garden with her sister this afternoon was remarkable. I don’t know too many people who would be so gracious after getting disowned by their family. As much as I love Colby and Summer, I honestly don’t know if I’d be able to forgive them if they stopped speaking to me for decades. They’d have to do a whole lot of groveling before I’d even consider giving them a second chance. But your mom isn’t like that.” Lexi sighed. “Some people just have the capacity for forgiveness. It’s a gift.”
“Or a curse.” Quentin shook his head. “But you know what? I know my mom, and she’s no shrinking violet. Sooner or later she’s gonna snap and go off on these people. If I’m lucky enough to be around when it happens, I’m just gonna grab my popcorn, sit back and watch the carnage.”
Lexi laughed. “I hope she does go off on them. They certainly have it coming, and it’ll be therapeutic for her to unload all those pent-up feelings of anger and resentment. I speak from personal experience.”
“I know.” Quentin leaned down and kissed her temple.
They walked in silence for a few minutes, their joined hands swinging between them in a comfortable rhythm.
“Speaking of forgiveness,” Quentin said quietly, “do you think you could ever forgive your father?”
Lexi sighed. “I don’t know. I suppose anything’s possible.” She stared up at the moon, contemplating the question. “It’s funny. When I was growing up, I desperately wanted to have a relationship with my dad. I craved everything a father was supposed to provide—stability, protection, unconditional love and affection. I wanted my dad around to look out for us, to pay the bills and make my mother laugh, to take me and Colby and Summer to the park. I wanted him around to intimidate the boys I dated, to tell me how pretty I looked in my prom dress. I wanted him to be like my favorite TV dads—James Evans, Charles Ingalls and Ward Cleaver all rolled into one. But he wasn’t any of those things because he wasn’t around, and his absence left a huge void in my life.” She smiled softly. “And then I met Sterling, and he became the father I never had. The first time he told me to call him Dad, I cried.”
Quentin gave her a sideways smile. “I remember that day. It was the weekend you came with my family and Mike’s to celebrate Father’s Day at Tybee Island. Sterling had just beaten all the fellas at poker and you were congratulating him. He grinned, kissed you on the forehead and told you to call him Dad. And you started bawling like a baby.”
Lexi laughed at the memory. “I couldn’t help it. Sterling was so good to me. He was the answer to my prayers. And because of you and Michael, I’ve been blessed with other strong male role models—Stan, Theo, Grandpa Frank, Uncle Fletcher.” She sighed deeply. “The truth is, there’s nothing I need or want from Ray Austin. He’s such a nonfactor in my life, forgiving him isn’t even on my radar, if that makes any sense.”
“It does,” Quentin told her. “And I’m relieved you feel that way, Lex. Because, honestly, I’d probably kill your father if he ever came around again.”
She let out a soft laugh. “I know. He’d better stay away if he knows what’s good for him.”
They came to a stop beneath the broad branches of a large oak. Lexi leaned back against the tree trunk and looked up at Quentin as he stood over her, his powerful frame silhouetted against the moonlight.
Staring down into her eyes, he touched her jaw with caressing fingertips, then brushed her sensitive lips.
“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his deep voice sending shivers throug
h her. “So damn beautiful.”
She smiled. “So are you.”
As a gentle breeze rustled the branches above their heads, Quentin stepped closer to her, reaching under his suit jacket to put his hands around her waist. “I hope you know just how much it means to me to have you in my life,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “You’ve always been there for me, right by my side.”
She gazed into his eyes. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”
“Ah, sweetness…”
She caught his face between her hands, leaned up and brushed her lips over his in the softest of touches. His breath shivered over her mouth.
He slid his arms around her, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss. She trembled as his tongue traced the shape of her lips. When he slowly penetrated her mouth, sparks of pleasure shot through her and she moaned softly.
His tongue stroked hers as he leaned into her, pinning her between his body and the tree. Her pulse thundered when he hooked her leg around his waist and slipped his hand under her dress. He caressed the back of her thigh, sending a rush of blood to every part of her.
Breaking their heated kiss, she gave him a naughty smile and whispered breathlessly, “Let’s go back to the house. You’ve got some licking and tying up to do….”
18
They were still smiling the next morning when they sat down to breakfast with Quentin’s mother, grandparents and Edward, who informed them that the others would return that afternoon for lunch. Throughout the meal, the two lovebirds exchanged private glances and intimate smiles, remembering all the deliciously wicked things they’d done to each other late into the night. It made the family meal more tolerable.
Although no one spoke of what had happened at the dinner table last night, Quentin’s scathing remarks to his grandmother had clearly made an impact. Her demeanor was pleasant but reserved, and she confined her conversation to mundane observations about the weather, the opening of a new art exhibit and other goings-on around town. It was as though last night’s confrontation had never happened.
This I Promise You Page 20
