WindSwept Narrows: #20 Fleur & Liliana

by Diroll-Nichols, Karen

  Fleur Delacort

  Liliana Charles

  WindSwept Narrows

  Book Twenty-Two

  Karen A. Nichols

  Copyright 2011 by Karen A. Nichols

  Smashwords Edition

  Published by Karen Nichols. Copyright, Karen Nichols. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author.

  This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Chapter One

  Dorian Fields made it through the tenth lap as the sun was setting. He came to a slow stop, stretching and watching the long strands of pinks, blues and gold as it filled the far western sky over the snow covered mountains of the Cascades. He was slightly over six foot, with longish blonde hair that touched the collar of his sweatshirt and stuck with sweat to the moisture along his throat. He was bent a little forward, catching his breath when he stopped moving. He swore he heard it and listened again more intently.

  A soft, low sound. Like a small animal, he thought, glancing around at the cluster of trees and shrubs. His gaze skittered over the thick greenery at the same time the small, low, “Shhhh!” came from somewhere inside. His head went up at another, less than affable noise coming along the inside of the track.

  “Hey, pal, you seen a woman out here?” The man’s voice was loud, abrasive and entitled. His jacket was open over a shirt that seemed to shimmer as he moved. His hand went to the height of his chin when he came to a stop. “’Bout this tall…dark hair…”

  “Haven’t seen anyone,” Dorian answered flatly, deciding something about the man was annoying him.

  “Damn bitch…I’ll track her down,” he said to himself, striding off toward the resort.

  Dorian straightened a little more, his hands against his sides as he stepped carefully toward the edge of the running track. He waited until the back of the man vanished into the settling evening light.

  He held his palm out without hesitating, his breath caught and stuck when she slowly rose from the crouch. He watched the smaller palm extend and slip her fingers into his before stepping into the last lights of day.

  He recognized her clothing from earlier in the arcade. He recognized the short, pixie haircut in creamy milk chocolate. But mostly he recognized the large, dark eyes that seemed to trap him as they blinked out at him from beneath a fringe of thick, black lashes that took up most of the heart shaped face.

  “He’s gone. It’s alright now,” Dorian started to smile until he caught the deep red at the side of her face. His hand went up automatically, stopping mid-air when she jerked away, full lips pulled into a pout. “I’m sorry. He struck you.”

  “He is very angry,” was the soft answer, her voice low and flowing with a sweet French inflection. “I do not believe in fighting, but I wish I could. I wish I knew how,” she corrected with a little nod. “Thank you. For not telling him the truth.”

  “I’m sorry he frightened you,” Dorian started walking toward the gym entrance, relieved she moved with him.

  “Frightened…” She repeated softly, sadly. “Yes. Yes, he has frightened me. And made me angry. But I think more at myself.”

  “Have you reported him to security?” He sighed, her silence the answer offered without words. “He’s not a husband or boyfriend…”

  “Most certainly not!” Dark eyes flamed with anger. “I have neither and that would not justify his abominable behavior!”

  “Of course not,” he held the door open for her, the warmth of the corridor welcoming in the falling heat of daytime. “What happened?” He paused next to a large bench and faced her. “I’m sorry,” he palm was up. “Dorian Fields.”

  “Fleur Delacort,” she responded, her palm in his and smile relaxed. She moved to the bench and sat down, her head shaking.

  Dorian leaned against the wall across from her, watching. She had a small pack on her shoulders and shrugged out of it, pulling it to her lap and resting against the wall behind her.

  “Why is he looking for you? Why did he hurt you?”

  “I saw you,” she said softly, frowning slightly and staring at him. “You were in the arcade talking to Mason and Nate while we were…oh…” she swallowed and cleared her throat. She felt the heat in her cheeks, her lower lip pulled between her teeth and eyes staring at the running shoes a few feet away.

  “You were having a good time with your friends. I had hoped for an introduction but they vanished and when I went looking for you,” he shrugged. “You’d gone.”

  “We were going to get all dressed up fancy tonight because Mason was out of town,” she confided with a grin, forgetting her embarrassment. “But he returned early. Lacie missed him a great deal.”

  “Who is the guy frightening you, Fleur?” He asked insistently.

  “I don’t know his name,” she said quietly. “Two days ago…” She paused, thinking. “Yes, Wednesday. I was working, I am an assistant chef and he asked to speak to Mia, the head chef, but she was busy so I went to see if there was a problem.”

  Dorian saw a chill flow through her. It looked like her body had shrunk against the wall a little more.

  “He wanted to compliment us on what we had prepared for him. I was in the process of thanking him when…when he…I was wearing a skirt beneath my tunic and he put his hand beneath my skirt!” She whispered in stunned memory. She pulled her feet to the bench and wrapped her arms around them. “I slapped him. Stepped back and swung wide and…”

  “A chef, huh?” Dorian looked at the small hands.

  “I told him his behavior was unacceptable. I thanked him for his compliment and turned on my heel and left him sitting there,” she raised her eyes from the floor. “He laughed, Dorian. He laughed as if…as if it was all well and good. I went to my cousin and told her what happened and she called security but he was gone when they arrived. And he paid cash so we had no idea who he was.”

  “Your cousin?”

  “Mia Santori Tanner. She’s the owner of the restaurants,” her gaze shifted to the floor again as she slipped into her memory. “Two hours later, a huge bouquet of flowers were delivered with a card that…that said he was sorry for upsetting me and he would like me to have dinner with him. That’s when I learned his name was Thomas Benton and he was registered in the hotel. I sent a note informing him that I would not be having dinner with him and I returned his flowers.”

  Dorian dropped to his heels to meet her eyes. “And security?”

  “They spoke with him. Cassidy is very strict with…about the staff being harassed…and molested.”

  “But he hasn’t stopped.”

  “No. No, he has not stopped. It is very subtle. Very careful. Rarely when there are others present,” she said quietly. “I take the shuttle home. I don’t
drive. I was so afraid he would follow me. I slept in Mia’s office last night. I went home with Lacie and brought my clothes back for this evening. I…he is in the card tournament, that is why he’s here. For the next two weeks! Earlier when I saw him…I thought…I thought of Sophie and Lacie and other friends and I told him I was married! I thought it would…”

  “You thought he would display some morals,” he saw the instant agreement in her eyes.

  “He said he didn’t mind sharing,” she whispered raggedly. “I cannot hide for two weeks, Dorian! I am so tired.”

  He tipped his wrist up. “Interested in a plan?”

  “A plan?”

  “I’m also scheduled to play in the tournament, Fleur. Where are your evening clothes?” Dorian stood up and extended his palm, interest and humor in the gaze she leveled upon him even as her hand slid into his.

  “Mia’s office.”

  “Long dress?”

  “Yes.”

  He tucked her palm around his arm, walking them slowly toward the double glass doors to the well-lit but mostly empty gym.

  “Let me get my gym bag. Then we’ll go to the kitchen and get your clothes. I give you my word that I will be a gentleman at all times,” he was caught in the wide eyes, blinking, her head tipped to the side.

  “You do not have malice in your eyes, Dorian,” she said simply. “This man…he is younger, barely twenty-five, I believe. His manners are…crude…arrogantly entitled. There is something…” She couldn’t stop the shudder. “It makes me wish I had learned to fight instead of cook.”

  Dorian laughed at the soft face pulled into a fierce glare. His grin was crooked but he shook his head. “I wish I could say fighting isn’t the answer, unfortunately, reason doesn’t work with all individuals. I’ll be right out, Fleur.”

  “I shall wait here,” she said with a nod, sinking to the bench and tucking her feet beneath her. Fleur leaned her head against the wall. She knew she was tired. But she didn’t feel afraid with him. Maybe it was because he knew the partners of her friends. They were good, honorable men who truly loved her friends. And he had very pretty blue eyes, she thought with a little sigh. “What are you planning, Dorian?”

  He took her palm and walked with her to the underground, allowing her to lead them.

  “Perhaps Thomas Benton needs a man to explain the rules to him, Fleur,” Dorian met the eyes studying him as they traveled on the moving walkway beneath the massive resort.

  “I told him I was married,” she said, her mouth opening and closing. “Oh.”

  “There’s always a social time before the games begin,” he looked at his wrist as they entered the bustling kitchen, associates in white tunics waving and watching them as they crossed to the large office near the end. She used a key from her little pack and went to the closet. Dorian took the bag with a smile, hitching it on his shoulder and waiting while she locked up.

  “You are here for the games?” She asked as they left the kitchen and entered the massive lobby of the resort.

  “The games are an event after the fact,” he said without thinking. “I start working in a week for Mason Wells.”

  “You will be living here?” Fleur wasn’t sure how it had become natural to walk holding his hand as they crossed the foyer to the bank of elevators.

  “I will be searching for an apartment. I can stay in one of the resort units until I find a place that works,” he said easily, pressing three in the elevator and deciding her smile would be a bright spot in any winter day.

  “What is your job? Do you enjoy it?”

  “Very much. I’ll be on a team of engineers for the docks and piers. The stability of the ground and then the buildings their allotting out will have to be constantly monitored and adjusted,” he watched the curiosity, interest in her eyes. He decided if he was going to drown and take on a new position, losing himself in those bottomless pools wouldn’t be a bad way to go at all. “Technology has made amazing jumps for areas where the threat of quakes lies beneath the surface. Not to mention the tides and general water because of the rains,” he used his key card and tapped the light switch, sending brightness into the suite. “There’s a bathroom over here,” he carried her bag to the second bathroom beside the small kitchen area. “I’ll go use the one next to the bedroom. Twenty minutes?” He watched her nod and disappeared into the large bathroom before going off after his own shower.

  Dorian wasn’t sure where his head was when he stepped back into the main room of the suite. Comfortable black shoes came to an abrupt stop, his hands freezing as he worked the black bow tie into shape.

  Her skin was a soft olive color, dark hair barely damp from her shower and shoulders bare. The dress she wore hugged and skimmed along the long, slender form, falling to a soft rustle of midnight just at her ankles. He could see delicate straps wrapped around her ankles as she walked to the patio, unaware of him on the other side of the room. Sleeves were attached just beneath her arms and began just over the caps of her shoulders, falling in a slim line to the backs of her palms. He caught a slight glimmer of stones, two in each ear when she turned to face him. He remained frozen in place when she smiled and crossed the room to him, long legs bared in the slit that rose from the floor to just above her knees on one side.

  “My grandfather can never knot these properly,” she said in sympathy, her hands up and replacing his when they fell to his sides. “You are most handsome in your tux, Dorian. Do you enjoy playing cards?”

  “It’s a hobby from time to time. I enjoy winning and watching people,” he cleared his throat and worked to find his voice. He wasn’t sure if it was the accent, the dark eyes or the whole exotic package standing before him that suddenly made him feel like a gauche teenager.

  “Dorian, I appreciate that you want to help me with this but I do not want you to be hurt,” Fleur met the blue eyes surrounded by pale lashes, the layered strands of dark blond drying and feathered from a side part. She took a step back, trying to clear her mind of the masculine scents attacking her senses.

  “I’m not concerned about being hurt. Security is very strict at these events,” he quickly checked his pockets, slid his key card to an inside slot and held his arm out to her. “Shall we? I also know how to fight,” he said when she nodded and stepped out the door ahead of him, her hand firm on his arm as they moved to the elevator. “But I prefer more devious methods of dealing with people like Benton.”

  “I realize that violence to his violence is wrong,” she began slowly, holding up her other hand when she saw his mouth open and a frown on his face. “I do not wish to cause violence but it is annoying that…it is annoying to be afraid.”

  “I think you’re beautiful when you’re angry,” he said softly as the doors to the elevator opened to the main floor, his intention to make her smile and even blush a little successful.

  “That is a very old line,” she responded softly.

  “It’s that smile and those eyes. Beautiful,” he repeated, walking slowly and casually among the variety of players in the large well laid out casino.

  “Thank you,” she felt the heat in her face even as her attention was caught on the people just beyond the large, separated room. People stood on the double doored entrance and a very thick, gold velvet rope kept people from passing without permission from the man at the doors.

  “Dorian and Fleur Fields,” Dorian held out the embossed invitation that he pulled from an inside jacket pocket.

  They waited while his name was found on a list, a two placed next to his name and the man nodded, stepping to the side to allow them to go inside.

  “Will you play against him, Dorian?” Fleur asked, taking in the very large room with monitors set up around small tables, comfortable sofas and chairs. A spread of all types of food was set up against the wall behind them, another bar and table set up with beverages.

  “As people are eliminated,” he answered vaguely, not mentioning that it was his firm intent to have more than one confrontation with Tho
mas Benton. “Let’s find a comfortable place where you can watch.

  “I have never been to a tournament before,” Fleur had both hands wrapped around his forearm as they walked among people. She vaguely heard him greet people. “Grandfather used to visit casinos in Monaco on holiday. It all seemed so very…”

  Dorian listened to her mumbling to herself and leaned next to her ear. “I have to warn you in advance, Fleur. I can’t speak a word of French.” He met the bright red tinted lips that offered a tiny smile.

  “Separate. I was searching for the right word for the feeling,” she said, looking up the few inches to his face. “It felt separate. As if they were not aware there were other people in the world.”

  “Never been to Monaco. I’m a very casual player. I’ve discovered that a lot of people whose career is mathematics based seem drawn to blackjack,” he shrugged. “Others play because they’re drawn to the hopes of instant riches. How about this? You can watch on the screen and I’ll find you here during the breaks.”

  “Food,” she whispered, turning and moving between people toward the right end. “I am starving. Do you have time before the game begins?”

  “I have time,” he assured her, following behind as she filled a plate and reached for a large goblet of water to take back to the small table next to the window. She had a clear view of a large monitor as well as the door leading into the tournament. She didn’t flinch or jerk back when his palm moved beneath her chin. “You’re worried.”

  “I am, at the moment, many things, Dorian. Yes, worried is one of them,” she lifted one of the sliced of bread topped with cheeses and fresh tomatoes. “I’ve been a female all of my life,” dark eyes flew to his face when the laughter burst free from him, deep and low. Her palm waved dismissingly and she scowled at him. “You know what I am saying. I am thirty-three years old. I have worked in many venues and yet to come across someone like Thomas Benton who refuses to hear what I say and yes, he frightens me. And now I have drawn you into things, so there is one more thing to be worried about.”