Belle was in the middle of taking a sip of her drink. She sputtered, barely stopping herself from spewing the liquid onto the floor. Which would have been a shame. The whiskey was excellent. Swallowing, she sighed as it slid smoothly down her throat."
"Theo has turned out to be more toad than Prince Charming," Belle laughed.
"You think it's funny?" From Ashe's snide tone and narrowed gray eyes, it was obvious Ashe did not.
"I stuck myself in a farcical situation." Belle touched her chin with her left hand, subtly wiggling her ring finger, making the diamond flash under the artificial light. "If I didn't laugh, you would find me in a corner, that one over there, crying my eyes out."
"Want a suggestion?"
Looking around to see who might be listening, Belle lowered her voice. "If it involves dumping the ring, then no. You know I've already dumped Theo."
"Not to my satisfaction." Ashe's eyes stayed on Belle's face, never slipping to the gaudy piece of jewelry. She knew he hated it—almost as much as she did. Doing them both a favor, he changed the subject. "Would you like to dance?"
"Really?" Most of the men she knew had to be half drunk before they would even consider getting out on a dance floor.
"It's the only way I can publicly hold you in my arms." Ashe motioned for Belle to proceed him.
The dining area had been cleared of the antique table and chairs. The sideboard which had been in the family for generations was now in the library behind a locked door. Empty, the room made a perfectly acceptable dance floor. Several couples were taking advantage of the trio of musicians set up on the patio. Because of their proximity—and with the aid of speakers—the music drifted pleasantly through the house.
Belle smiled when she saw Georgia and her husband swaying together to a romantic song with a nice slow tempo. The look Ashe's sister sent her wasn't exactly cool, but it wasn't as warm as Belle expected.
"Did I do something to offend Georgia?"
Ashe shook his head, drawing Belle into his arms. "She's worried that my interest in you is too… interested."
Thinking through yesterday afternoon's visit, Belle couldn't think of anything she and Ashe had done that would draw unwanted attention. "I thought we were perfectly circumspect."
"According to my sister, I couldn't take my eyes off you." Ashe's hand settled at the base of her spine, guiding Belle with ease, pulling her a little closer. "She was right. Though I did my best to deflect her accusations."
The sound of Ashe's voice, the feel of his body swaying against hers. It was a heady combination. Belle closed her eyes and simply let herself enjoy.
"Accusations?" The urge to rest her cheek on Ashe's shoulder almost got the better of Belle. Remembering where they were, she kept her head held high. "What does Georgia think we're doing?"
"Nothing close to the truth," Ashe teased, his laugh low and intimate. "And it is me, not we that she has a problem with. I assured her that I do not seduce engaged women."
There was so much Belle could have said. Though she hadn't admitted it to Ashe, she needed to be honest with herself. She had been the seducer. For all his experience—and her lack of it—Belle was the one who came on to him that night in Los Angeles. She knew what she was doing. At the time, she was an officially engaged woman—a fact she kept from Ashe. There was no way around it. A perfect storm of nostalgia, opportunity, and desire had converged. Belle grabbed the moment. Given the chance, she would do it again—with no regrets. Not now. Not ever.
The music changed to something more up tempo. As the couples around them moved accordingly, Belle threw caution to the wind. She didn't protest when Ashe drew her closer, their bodies gently moving to their own beat. She was past caring. She didn't owe Theo—or anybody else—special consideration. With a contented sigh, she smiled. If people wanted to talk, let them.
"I meant to ask. How did things go with your father?"
Because Belle's hand rested on Ashe's chest, she felt more than heard his deep sigh. The smile that lifted his lips and warmed his eyes was impossible to miss.
"Beyond anything I let myself hope for."
They danced, Belle losing track of the change in songs or how many dancers came and went. She was too busy listening to Ashe. He told her everything from the moment he entered the Mathison building. His encounter with his young fans made her laugh. The reunion with his father brought tears to her eyes.
"Dad blew me away." There was a touch of wonder in Ashe's voice. "It makes me angry with myself for not trying to reconnect sooner."
"I truly believe that most things happen in their own time." Belle squeezed Ashe's hand. "Your father wasn't ready. Neither were you. If you had pushed too soon. A year ago or two, it might have ended disastrously, making today impossible. This was the perfect time."
Ashe didn't kiss her temple, but the warmth of his breath brushed Belle's skin, sending a pleasant tingle through her body.
"Thank you, Belle. That was perfectly put. Would you mind repeating it to my father?"
Surprised—and flattered—Belle hesitated. She barely knew the man. For whatever reason, the Richards and Mathison families didn't socialize. It would be strange saying something so personal to a man she hadn't spoken to more than a handful of times.
"I think it would be better coming from you," she told Ashe. "However, if you want to tell him it came from me that would be fine."
"I'll do that."
They settled into a contented silence. How long they would have stayed on the dance floor—in each other's arms—Belle couldn't say. Before they could find out, there was a tap on Ashe's shoulder.
"Sorry to interrupt." Georgia's tone—and expression—said the opposite. "Didn't you have a special gift you wanted to give Dad before we bring in the cake?"
"It was your idea. I agreed—reluctantly. But thanks for the reminder."
"No problem," Georgia said with a tight smile. "I wasn't sure you were aware of how much time had passed. Or how much attention you had garnered."
Ashe exchanged telling looks with his sister. The message that passed between them wasn't difficult for Belle to read. Georgia was asking Ashe what he was doing. Ashe answered with a definitive mind your own business.
"I'm used to people looking at me." Ashe's tone was cool, his gaze direct. "I rarely notice anymore."
"But Belle isn't."
"Belle is—"
"Right here." Belle refused to let Ashe and Georgia talk as if she wasn't in the room. "I understand what you're saying, Georgia. I think it's time I caught up with my fiancé."
"You don't have to go, Belle."
"You're right." Belle's eyes met Ashe's, aware that Georgia hung on every word. "I don't have to do anything. I make my own decisions."
"And?" Ashe knew the answer. The words she spoke were for Georgia's benefit. Belle humored him since it seemed important.
"I made my choice some time ago. Meeting you again simply cemented what I already knew."
"What does that mean?"
Belle heard Georgia's question as she started toward the exit. Neither she nor Ashe could see the upward curve of her lips when he answered.
"Hell if I know."
Leave it to Ashe to make Belle laugh—whether or not that was his intention. She was still chuckling to herself when she spotted Theo across the room. With him was a dark-haired man several inches shorter with a slight build. Their voices didn't carry, but it was obvious from their faces and the gestures Theo made with his hands that the conversation was heated—enough to draw the attention of several party-goers.
Belle didn't need psychic powers to figure out the identity of Theo's companion. It had to be Blaine. Part of her wanted to keep walking. It would have been easier to pretend she didn't see what the others in the room couldn't ignore. When Theo's raised voice reached her, Belle sighed, changing directions.
"There you are." Belle smiled brightly, making certain she could be heard by more than Theo a
nd Blaine. She took her fiancé's arm in what she hoped came across as an affectionate gesture. "Are you enjoying the party?"
Blaine blinked when he realized the question was directed at him. The animosity in his eyes made Belle wonder if he was going to answer. Theo—smart enough to understand Belle's purpose—spoke through gritted teeth.
"Answer, you idiot. And smile. This isn't a funeral."
"Not yet," Blaine muttered, then seeing the way Theo stiffened, gave in. His smile wasn't the least bit genuine, but it was there, his lips barely moving as he spoke, his voice laced with a distinctive Southern twang. "The champagne is first rate."
"My father always says, the secret to a good party is the quality—and quantity—of the alcohol."
Theo laughed, nodding his head. Blaine's eyes narrowed, fixed on his lover.
"I see your mother and father trying to get our attention." It was a lie. She didn't know where Theo's parents were. However, it was the best exit line she could think of.
"Right." Theo seemed relieved. "It was nice seeing you again, Blaine."
"Don't you dare leave with that woman," Blaine hissed under his breath.
When had she become, that woman, Belle wondered. For all intents and purposes, she was out of the picture. An illusion of a fiancé. If Theo was dragging his feet where Blaine was concerned, it had nothing to do with her.
Without another word, Theo walked away, Belle at his side. He tried to steer them toward the open bar. Belle propelled in the opposite direction. From the fumes wafting off him, the last thing Theo needed was another drink. Taking his hand, she pulled him through the open French doors into the cool night air. She didn't stop until they were in a deserted part of the garden, away from prying eyes.
"Thank you, Belle." Closing his eyes, Theo took a deep breath. When he started to sway, he quickly took a seat on a nearby wrought-iron bench. "Blaine isn't normally—"
"I don't care, Theo."
Frowning, Theo shook his head. "You didn't let me finish. Blaine—"
"Listen to me." Belle took a seat next to Theo. Grabbing his shoulders, she gave him a firm shake. "I don't care because this is the end. The end of our fake engagement, the end of us. Period."
"No, that's not right. There's more than a week left in our agreement."
When he whined, Belle wanted to do more than shake Theo. She moved her hands to her side before she slapped him—hard. "Face the facts. I spent most of the evening in the arms of another man. You spent it with your boyfriend. That says it all. First thing in the morning, I'm telling my parents that there will be no wedding."
"Belle—Wait. You were with another man? Who?"
"It doesn't matter." Theo never seemed to grasp the main point. "The fact that there is a man—for either of us—tells the whole story. Two weeks or two years, you were never going to willingly go to your parents. It might not feel like it, but I'm doing you a favor."
"A favor?" Theo's mouth thinned. "More like a kick in the nuts."
"The day I said yes to your marriage proposal, we were friends. At the moment, I don't know what to call us." Belle tilted her head until Theo looked her in the eye. "Do me a favor, walk away with grace while there is still a bit of affection left."
"You can take your affection and shove it up your ass." Theo lurched to his feet. "My world is nothing but rubble as far as the eye can see. And you're the reason. Hurricane Belle."
Belle scoffed. "If that's the rationale you need to make yourself feel better, go for it."
"Fuck you."
Theo staggered into the garden, trampling on a bed of hydrangeas. Watching him go, Belle felt more sympathy for the flowers than for her absolutely, positively, no doubt about it, ex-fiancé.
Taking a minute before returning to the party, Belle looked at her hand. Well, crap. She forgot to give Theo back the ring. Since he hadn't consulted her before making the purchase, it was more his taste than hers. Big might be better, but if the day ever came when the man she loved put a ring on her finger, she wanted something less gaudy. Something with character.
Slipping the ring off her finger, Belle dropped it into her purse. Another engagement? What was wrong with her? It was the last thing that should cross her mind. However, she was human. Belle knew one thing for certain. This time, it would be for love. She knew the man she wanted. She knew her heart was his for the asking. The question was, would he ever care that much about her? If he didn't, it was hard for Belle to imagine loving somebody else. It seemed her feelings—once fixed—were true blue.
Damn Ashe Mathison. It started as a crush with all the intensity only a teenage girl could harbor. Next came lust. It was mutual and easy. Though not so easily satisfied. Somehow—when she wasn't paying attention—love crept in. It seemed she was back where she started. Her crush had lingered for years—too many years—unrequited. Would the love she felt for Ashe suffer the same fate?
Shaking off her inner turmoil, Belle entered the house. Stopping, Belle noticed a buzz of energy in the room. Around her, the guests huddled in groups, speaking in excited whispers.
Before Belle could ask what was happening, Georgia stepped to the middle of the room carrying a microphone.
"I want to thank all of you for joining my family to help us celebrate a very important day. My father's birthday." There was a polite round of applause. This was what had the crowd buzzing? Belle didn't think so. "As many of you know, my brother Ashe is with us for the first time in quite a while."
There it was, Belle thought, grinning when a woman who had to be twice Ashe's age giggled. Not that she was alone. All around, sophisticated society matrons morphed into zealous fangirls. She couldn't wait to see what they did next. Faint from the thrill of it all? Scream Ashe's name? Belle waited with baited breath. After her encounter with Theo, she deserved some entertainment.
"We planned a surprise, but it seems most of you already know about it."
"Ashe Mathison is going to sing." The excited whisper came from behind Belle. "Can you believe it? My sister will die of envy when I tell her."
The woman sounded like she looked forward to her sibling's demise. Belle shook her head. Charming.
"As a special present for our father's sixtieth birthday, my brother has agreed to sing a song he wrote." Georgia beamed with pride as Ashe came into view. In one hand, he carried a well-worn acoustic guitar. In the other, a chair. "Ladies. Gentleman. And especially, Dad. I give you Ashe Mathison."
Kissing Georgia's cheek, he acknowledged the wildly enthusiastic round of applause with a wave. Ashe set down the chair, taking a seat in front of an empty microphone stand.
"Whoops." Laughing, Georgie hurried to replace the microphone she still had in her hand. "Sorry."
"Dad?" Ashe strummed a few chords, checking that the guitar was tuned.
"Right here, son." Randall Mathison called out. Belle could see him standing to the side, only a few feet from Ashe.
"This song was featured on The Ryder Hart Band's second album." Ashe looked at his father, smiling. "I wish Ryder were here to do it justice, but you're stuck with me."
"I wouldn't have it any other way."
"He has to say that," Ashe told the crowd. "We're related."
It wasn't a great joke, but it garnered the expected round of laughs. They quickly died down when Ashe began to play. From the first note, he had them in the palm of his hand. If he had chosen to play Mary Had a Little Lamb, nobody would have complained.
A love song. Not from a man to a woman, but a son to his father. Simple. Eloquent. Emotional. As it came to a close, there were tears on more than one set of cheeks—including Randall Mathison's. Ashe didn't go to his father. He simply held his gaze and nodded.
Belle took a tissue from her purse, dabbing at her eyes. She watched as Ashe made a quick exit. Smart, Belle thought. Another minute and he would have been surrounded. After that, who knew when he would get away?
"Excuse me. Ms. Richards?"
&n
bsp; Belle turned. The young man wore a black vest and white shirt, identifying him as one of the serving staff.
"Yes?"
"I was asked to give you this."
He handed Belle a piece of paper, leaving before she could ask who it was from. Puzzled, she opened the note.
Meet me at the gazebo in ten minutes. I'm in the mood for a little necking. You won't be able to miss me. I'll be the one with the guitar.
Laughing, Belle tucked the note into her purse. With all the attention still focused on the front of the room, she easily slipped outside without notice. She started down a well-lit path, her mind on her rendezvous with Ashe. But before she could take more than a few steps, a hand covered her mouth. Another hand grabbed her arm, pulling her from the lit path into the shadows, fingers digging into her flesh.
Belle struggled, briefly knocking away his hand. The second her mouth was free, she screamed as loudly as possible. The hand returned but not before hitting Belle on the side of the head. The blow was hard enough to rattle her teeth.
"If you scream again, I swear I'll kill you where you stand."
Belle sucked in her breath. Though she had only heard it once before, she immediately recognized the voice laced with a distinctive Southern twang.
"Move it, bitch." Keeping his hand over her mouth, Blaine dragged Belle across the lawn. "I tried to scare you off, but you were determined to keep your claws in Theo." His next words sent a chill down Belle's spine. "If he can't get rid of you, I will."
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BELLE'S MIND RACED. Theo's Blaine. Why would he care about getting her out of the way? As of tonight, their engagement was over for good. Even if Blaine hadn't heard, he must know about her agreement with Theo. Unless—
Theo hadn't told Blaine.
It was the only explanation. But she couldn't worry about that. Her pressing concern was how to stop Theo's boyfriend from taking her farther into the garden and away from help. Belle searched her memory for anything and everything that would help her get away. Her hands weren't tied. Fingernails could be a weapon. As could the spiked heels on her shoes.
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