by MJ Rodgers
Yes, Briana could see that, even feel that It was obvious that Rory cared for his sister. A lot
“You said a moment ago that it was probably just as well that I don’t remember being Natalie. Why?”
“Because then you’d be with that bastard,” Rory said, an angry vehemence snapping through his words.
“You’re talking about Sheldon Ayton?”
Rory grabbed his glass and downed the last of its contents. He slammed the tumbler down on the cabinet before taking a couple of steps in her direction.
“Nat, he only wants you because you were the one woman who had the good sense to refuse him! Don’t you see? He had to prove that he could have you. That’s why he went after you so hard.”
“Rory, you keep talking to me as though I remember him. I don’t”
“All right, I’ll tell you about him. He’s a controlling bastard, Nat. He’s had you followed from the day he met you. He’s spied on you, watched you through every move you’ve made.”
“He did that to Natalie?” Briana asked, appalled.
“He did that to you! You’re Natalie. Since you spurned him that day at the Derby, he’s done his damnedest to find out everything about you, so he could win you. He hired a slew of private investigators. He pretended that he had the same interests as you in order to give you the impression that you had a lot in common. You don’t really think Ayton loves piano instrumentals? Unusual architecture? Forests and wildflowers?”
“How do you know what he did, Rory?”
“Because I read the reports his detectives compiled on you. He learned everything about you before he pursued you. That’s why he just happened to be a customer in Mama’s New Orleans cafe the times you went there to help out.”
“How long have you known this about Ayton?”
“I suspected something was wrong with the guy all along. But I only learned of his spying on you at the wedding reception. I overheard Ayton telling the head of his detective agency that he was going to be keeping an eye on you himself from now on, so he wouldn’t need him anymore. When Ayton and the detective left, I let myself into the study and rifled Ayton’s desk. I found the thick file on you.”
“Did you tell Natalie?”
“First chance I got. You were on your way up the stairs to change out of your bridal clothes. You might have believed me if Ayton hadn’t come along. He assured you I was just talking crazy because I was drunk.”
“Were you drunk?”
Rory’s eyes took on an odd bleakness. “Yes.”
“Sheldon Ayton knew that you were trying to tell Natalie what he had done?”
“He probably would have hit me to keep me quiet if you hadn’t stepped between us. When you turned up missing later, I just figured you had understood enough of what I had told you about him to get away from the bastard before it was too late.”
“Did you see Natalie again that night?”
“I didn’t think there was any use. Mama found me passed out on the sofa in the parlor later, and told me about the old bag falling down the stairs and being flown to the emergency room. I only wished it had been Sheldon.”
“Rory, this isn’t the bourbon talking, is it? You’re certain that Sheldon had Natalie investigated and followed?”
“How do you think I knew where to find you tonight, Nat? I was in Ayton’s study when the fax came in from the detective agency. He called them in again when he realized you were missing. You’ve been under surveillance at the Institute of Dreams since the second he found you there.”
Briana felt a crawling sensation at the back of her neck. Spying on someone was so offensive. That it was done by a man professing to love a woman made it even worse.
“Nat, are you hearing what I’m telling you? Ayton has been told of your every move. He knows all about Sands taking you to that lawyer, and the petition for annulment being filed. And the restraining order.”
“Then he knows that I won’t be going back to him,” Briana said.
“Won’t be going back to him?” Rory repeated, his voice rising incredulously. “Nat, you still have no idea of the kind of man you married, do you? Sheldon Ayton isn’t going to rest until he has you back in his control.”
“How can he?” Briana asked.
“The second you return to Nevada, Ayton is waiting to have you served with a court order. You’re to be examined by a court psychiatrist and then forced into the care of some shrink he’s flying in from Glasgow.”
“He can’t do that, Rory. He has no rights as a husband. Are you forgetting the restraining order?”
“The restraining order is against him, not your mama.”
Briana felt a sudden apprehension stiffening her muscles. “How does Carlie fit into this?”
“Ayton persuaded her to sign the papers. She’s your next of kin. It’s legal. It was with her signature that Ayton got a judge to issue the court order.”
“Why would Carlie cooperate with Sheldon?”
“A mistaken act of love. She thinks you need help, and Ayton’s convinced her he’ll get it for you. No doubt Ayton’s already identified and paid the court-appointed psychiatrist who is to examine you. He’ll say exactly what Ayton wants him to.”
“Dr. Sands is my doctor,” Briana said confidently. “He won’t let Ayton get away with this.”
Rory flashed her a look that clearly rated her grasp of the situation at something below zero.
“Just how long do you think this Dr. Sands is going to be allowed to remain your doctor after Ayton’s detectives produce evidence that you’re been living with him in his apartment at this Institute of Dreams?”
“Rory, it hasn’t been like that. I’ve been in Dr. Sands’s guest room. There hasn’t been any impropriety—”
“There doesn’t have to have been! All it has to do is look that way.”
“But—”
“Nat, you will not only be immediately and forcibly removed from Dr Sands’s care, Sands’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get his license yanked and his institute closed.”
Briana tasted panic on her tongue as she started to pace about the room. “No,” she said, an ache of frustration in her voice. “All he’s been trying to do is help me. Ayton can’t do this to him.”
“Yes, he can. And make no mistake. He will.”
Briana dropped onto the edge of the bed, feeling suddenly like a leaf being blown in the wind of Rory’s blustery, scary predictions.
Rory came over to sit next to her. “I sorry, Nat,” he said on a long exhale. “I was wrong to listen to Mama. I wanted to tell you my suspicions about the kind of man Ayton was, but she wouldn’t let me.”
“Why wouldn’t she let you? If she loves Natalie, why would she have encouraged her to be with such a man?”
“She does love you, Natalie. Don’t ever doubt it. And she wants the best for you. That’s why she picked out a handsome, rich man for you. Only she’s blind to what the bastard is. She kept saying that love had changed Sheldon Ayton into something better than he was, and that I had no right to tell you anything against him without proof.”
Briana watched as Rory’s powerful hands balled into fists.
“But Mama is wrong,” he said. “Love doesn’t change a man. Love simply makes a man more of what he already was. Ayton doesn’t care how he gets you back, or even if you want to go back. All he cares about is that you are once again brought under his control.”
A shiver snaked through Briana at Rory’s words.
“If I were any kind of a brother, I would have killed him for you days ago!” Rory said, raising his fists.
Briana laid her hands on his fists and lowered them. “No, Rory. Not that way.”
His eyes went to her face, a light of hope flickering in their dark depths. “Nat, maybe it’s not too late. Ayton’s mama is still in that coma. He has to stay in Nevada to see to her. This could be our chance.”
“Our chance? For what?”
“To escape,” he said, eagerness catching at his wo
rds.
“We’ll go to Ireland. Both of our passports are up-to-date. There are some of my daddy’s kin there who will help hide us.”
“Rory—”
“They can keep Ayton from finding you. They should. They’ve been hiding dissidents from the British for centuries.”
He took her hands in his. “Come with me, Nat.”
Briana could tell from the look on Rory’s face that he had actually sold himself on the possibility of such a scenario working for them.
“Rory, I’m not running off to Ireland.”
“Then we’ll go anywhere you want. You can’t win against a man like Ayton, Nat. His money, his position—he’ll use it all to get you back. Come with me, while there’s still time. Let me do this for you, as you have done so much for me.”
Rory’s affection for Natalie was obviously sincere. Briana didn’t want to hurt him. She was trying to think of the right way to refuse his offer when the knock suddenly came at the door.
Rory instantly dropped her hands and jumped to his feet, his fists raised, his stance a fighter’s.
“Don’t open it, Nat,” he warned. “It’s Ayton He’s come to get you!”
Chapter Ten
Briana rose to rest a steadying hand on Rory’s arm, as she worked to keep herself calm. His fear was far too contagious.
“Take it easy,” she said. “I’ll see who it is.”
Briana walked over to look through the peephole. She felt her heart do a little leap of both relief and happiness when she saw Michael on the other side of the door.
“It’s Dr. Sands,” she told Rory as she opened the door.
Bnana introduced them when Michael stepped inside. At her urging, Rory gave Michael a cryptic rundown on Ayton’s spying on Natalie and the legal maneuvers he had planned to get her back when she returned to Nevada.
“I appreciate your telling us about this,” Michael said.
Rory was frowning as he took Michael’s offered hand. “Ayton is going to do his best to ruin you, Sands.”
Briana watched Michael’s easy smile. “He’s going to fail.”
Rory’s glance rested on Briana. “He’ll try to get her.”
“I won’t let him,” Michael assured.
It wasn’t just what Michael said, it was the way that he said it, that had Briana believing him. Whereas Rory was full of gloom and doom, Michael radiated confidence and competence. What a difference there was between the two men.
But then, Briana knew that, compared to Michael, all other men would be found wanting.
As soon as Rory left, Michael closed and locked the door behind him. “Rory Taureau is quite fond of you, Briana.”
“Correction—he’s quite fond of Natalie,” she said. “What do we do about Sheldon and his plans?”
“There’s no cause for worry,” Michael said as he gently rested his hand on her shoulder. “Ayton can’t do anything legally until you return to Nevada. By then, we’ll be ready for him.”
Briana looked at the strength in his stance, his frame, his face, the steady blue of his eyes. She was struck anew by the capable, confident way he faced everything. She felt her balance returning, as though his presence alone righted the world, making it a safe and sane place to be.
And yet, at the same time, she felt the warmth and nearness of him rocking her world as nothing and no one ever had.
His eyes rested briefly on her face before he dropped his hand from her shoulder and purposely turned toward the door. “I’ll be back in a minute,” he called over his shoulder.
Once again he’d turned away. The line was still firmly drawn between them. That line he would not cross. Not even if he wanted to.
Did he want to?
Don’t ask pointless questions. He’s never going to cross that line, no matter what. Get a grip. Show some sense. Forget your foolish heart. Listen to your head.
When Michael knocked softly on her door less than a minute later, Briana had her emotions firmly in hand again. She let him in, surprised to see that he was carrying a full grocery bag.
“We’re dining in, I assume?” Briana asked.
“On some of Vita Pitts’s homemade jambalaya. I just had it heated up in the hotel kitchen by a very accommodating chef, who supplied a couple of cups of coffee, as well.”
Michael drew out the steaming foam cups and set them on the table. He next pulled out a blackened earthenware pot that had obviously spent a lot of time on a stovetop. When he lifted the lid, a mouthwatering aroma filled the room.
“That smells great,” Briana said.
“I promise you, it’s marvelous. After one taste, I insisted on buying it from Vita.”
“Pot and all?”
“She assured me she has a dozen more. This is a better meal than we’d get at a restaurant. She even included some homemade corn bread in the deal.”
They sat at the small table. Michael filled their bowls, and between them they finished off the entire contents of the pot, along with the small loaf of corn bread.
Briana leaned back, sighing in appreciation. “It appears you and Vita Pitts got along quite well, for you to come away with that marvelous concoction.”
“Actually, I came away with a lot more.”
Michael placed the small tape recorder on the table and replayed his conversation with the housekeeper. As Briana listened to her talk about Natalie Newcastle, her confusion grew.
When the taped conversation had ended, Briana was shaking her head. “Rory talked about Natalie as being someone special. And Carlie also spoke of her lovingly. As did LouMay. Even Ginny and Gene Pettit had nice things to say about her. But the way Vita describes Natalie, she sounds absolutely awful. Were Rory and Carlie and Lou-May and the Pettits trying to be nice about her true character to spare my feelings?”
“I can’t speak for Rory, Carlie or Lou-May,” Michael said. “But I’ve known Ginny and Gene Pettit a lot of years. Had they not liked Natalie, they would have toned down their dislike in front of you. But they wouldn’t have outright lied and said the nice things they did about her.”
“Then I’m more confused than ever. How can Natalie be so different?”
“Perhaps because there are different Natalies.”
“I don’t follow you, Michael.”
“A person who has multiple personalities generally has more than two, Briana.”
“Are you saying that there’s both a nice Natalie and a nasty Natalie?”
“It’s a possibility.”
“Terrific,” Briana said, forcing a chuckle through her throat, trying to stave off the shock of imagining yet another personality inside her. “Now, I’m not just two people. I’m three! I suppose the good news is that this should qualify me to use the carpool lane on the freeway!”
Michael’s hand immediately covered hers. He always seemed to know when things were getting a little too wild for her to handle.
“I’m not saying there is a third personality inside you, Briana. I’m merely offering it as a possible explanation for the facts that we’ve uncovered so far.”
The gentleness of Michael’s voice and touch was both wonderfully soothing and wildly intoxicating. Briana had no energy left to fight her feelings for him. She was way past listening to that tiny voice of reason.
She was mad for Michael.
But she would be even madder to let him know it. Because if she did, she knew, she’d be opening herself up to the incomparable hurt of his rejection.
He had told her the rules when he became her doctor.
Even now, she could feel him withdrawing his hand, his warmth. Just as he always did. Just as he always would.
The weight of that knowledge descended full on her chest, sinking deep inside her and taking all her hopes with it
“You’re planning on our going to the gallery showing tonight in New Orleans, aren’t you?” Briana asked, trying to make her voice light, despite the heaviness of her heart.
“Yes. I’d like to see that painting.”
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“What are you hoping to learn from it, Michael?”
“I’m not sure I’ll know until I see it. If Vita Pitts can be believed, Natalie did love her father, despite his strictness with her. I think it odd that Natalie would have let her mother and brother throw out all his pictures.”
“Maybe her feelings for her father changed dramatically when Carlie explained to her that Markam had separated Natalie from her mother for all those years?”
“Why did it take a whole year for Natalie to listen to her mother about the circumstances before believing her? Does that seem likely to you?”
“Obviously it doesn’t seem likely to you,” Briana said. “So, what do you think happened?”
“I don’t know, Briana. The more we learn about Natalie, the less I understand her. Something isn’t right here. I feel it. But I’ll be damned if I know what it is “
THE NEW ORLEANS GALLERY of Jacques Brousseau was featuring the work of Louisiana artist Jon L Breen that night. The placard on the glass window said he was an artist known for his female nudes. The popularity of the work was evident from the size of the crowd—elbow to elbow—very few of whom had even availed themselves of the champagne and cheese.
But despite the compelling subject matter of the artist, when Michael walked in with Briana on his arm, he noticed the immediate shift of male eyes in their direction.
He didn’t blame them. A walking work of art like Bnana—even fully clothed—would always be more arresting than a nude painting hanging on a wall.
As always, Briana seemed totally oblivious to the stares she was receiving. Michael was once again reminded of how unconscious she was of her beauty. And how much more beautiful that made her.
He found Brousseau and asked about the portrait of Markam Newcastle. Brousseau led them to the back wall to which Jon L. Breen’s only painting that wasn’t a nude had been relegated.
“This portrait thing was just something he did on the side while he was building his skill and his name with his nudes,” Brousseau explained. “Still, his incredible talent is quite evident. He captures the soul with a few simple brush strokes. It’s a steal at two bills. We accept Visa, MasterCard and Discover. I’ll be up front if you need me.”
