by K. R. Rowe
Usually the drive to the city took forever, it seemed, but now the miles passed much too quickly. He wanted to keep her sheltered and secure in his own private world, but the choice was never his. He glanced over and watched the kitten as it snuggled close to her chest. His eyes drew upward to a small pearl of moisture that ran down her neck and pooled in the hollow, at the base of her throat. Like a slow moving sloth, his gaze inched away. The image lingered, as he forced himself to refocus on the long, heated road ahead.
They pulled into the driveway and a familiar red Porsche sat crooked, blocking the front of the house.
"Ugh, there's Sebastian," Grace said. A sudden look of embarrassment reddened her cheeks but Alex smiled. Once inside, her parents greeted her with a careful embrace.
"Grace, I was so worried." Sebastian threw his arms around her in a tight hug. She flinched in pain and he released her with a quick step back. "I’m sorry darling," he said. He cupped her chin in his palm and pressed a soft slow kiss to her lips. He released her, turned to Alex, and smirked.
The mocking gray eyes met with angry blue, and the animosity hung between them, like a dripping wet sheet on a clothesline.
"So what do you have there?" Atticus said.
"A kitten, can I please keep him?"
"Of course you can." He eyed the kitten and scratched it behind the ears, "I probably should have let you have one a long time ago."
"Come along upstairs," Anne said, "and we'll get you into something that fits. Where did you get that shirt?"
"It belongs to Alex." Grace turned and smiled at him as she went up the stairs, and Sebastian did not miss a second of it.
"Alex, how can I ever repay you?" Atticus said. "I'm so glad she's home. I know she was safe with you, but the mountains can be dangerous."
"Yes sir, I've seen the danger many times."
Alex could feel Sebastian's glower freezing the skin from his back, and when he turned, his gaze was met with a glacial stare.
"When I was a young man," Atticus said, appearing oblivious to the tension between the two men in the room, "My best friend disappeared up there. He just vanished during a fishing trip. I looked for him for years, with no luck."
Alex cracked his knuckles and rested his hand on his pistol as an obvious threat while he continued to hold Sebastian's unwavering glare.
"But to this day," Atticus said, "I just don't understand how a military man, who had the ability to kill a man with his bare hands, could just disappear off the face of the earth," he said. "He was a big, tall fella too, like you, Alex."
"Yes sir …" Alex responded, not paying attention.
"I imagine you were taught the same thing, plus much more in the Marines."
"Taught what, sir?" Alex asked.
"How to kill a man with your bare hands," Atticus said.
"Yes I have—"
"You have?"
"I mean—yes, sir, that was the first thing they taught us." Alex still glowered at Sebastian, and the meaning in his words revealed a thinly veiled warning.
"Interesting," Sebastian said, "maybe with all of your alleged credentials, I may seek to employ you myself, once Grace and I are married." His expression was smug. "I'm sure your menial services won't make much of a dent in my wallet."
Deliberately provoked, Alex’s flaring nostrils gave away his intent, when he lunged for Sebastian’s throat. Atticus grabbed him by the arm, and Sebastian stumbled backwards over a table, in an attempt to get away from him.
"He’s a madman!" Sebastian yelled. He regained his footing, stood stiff and straight, and quickly readjusted his jacket.
Alex leaned toward him, but Atticus held tight. His voice was low and threatening. "A madman?" Alex asked. "Isn’t that like the pot calling the kettle black? Huh, Sebastian? I think you’d be wise to watch your back."
"Am I to take that as a threat?"
"You can take it any way you want."
A week later, Alex stood on the back landing against the house in the shade. A pellet of sweat formed on his temple and rolled slowly down his sideburn, and he wiped it away with a quick shrug of his shoulder. The hot city air was saturated and steaming with humidity, and he missed the cool breeze of the mountains. A light wind picked up and blew through his hair and he was glad that the helmets were history. On the crest of the breeze, he caught the sweet scent of vanilla. He did not see Grace but he felt her presence close by his side. His attempt to be serious failed and he was unable to stop the wide grin that crossed his face.
"I’m on duty," he said without looking her way. "What are you doing?" he asked, when he felt her hand at his side. A poke in the ribs was his answer. Like a startled cat, he jumped sideways away from her.
"You’re ticklish!" Grace said and laughed.
"Yes—I mean—No! I’m not."
"How about your knee?" She reached for him and he backed away.
"You’ll get me fired." He struggled to keep a straight face while he composed himself and resumed his position. He took a sidelong glance at her when he felt the heat from her body warm his, as she moved closer.
"My dad’s not here."
"He’s not?" he asked. "Where is he?"
"I don’t know, but Mom’s asleep, and Adam won’t be here until your shift is over."
He looked down at her. She stood close looking up at him with her hands clasped behind her back. She looked innocent and sweet as if she wanted something, but she couldn’t hide the hint of seduction in her eyes. He knew what she wanted.
"Oh, well, in that case …."
He leaned toward her, took her face in his hands and put his mouth to hers. A soft moaning sigh escaped from her lips as he hungrily held her against him. Heaving a low yearning groan, he whispered softly against her skin. "This risk wasn’t in my employment contract," he said as he put his lips to the hollow of her throat.
"What risk is that?"
"Being seduced by the boss’s daughter."
"Check the benefits section," she said.
He chuckled and backed her against the wall. "You drive me insane."
He slid one hand to the nape of her neck, and pressed his body close, as his mouth covered hers. Lifting her from the floor, he slid her onto a window ledge, and let his hand slide slowly up the length of her thigh. Her skin felt soft and hot beneath his fingertips, and she sucked in a breath and trembled.
She called his name softly against his lips, but fell silent, as he devoured her mouth with his. A low growl came from deep within, as he felt her hand slide upward beneath his shirt, and her legs wrap around his waist. Her fingers trailed lightly across his chest leaving smoldering welts of fire in their wake.
With his self-control fading, he slowly stepped back. "I’m still on duty," he rasped and kissed her on the forehead.
"I’m sorry." She slid off the ledge. "I shouldn’t be doing this to you anyway."
"Oh, believe me," he said and grinned. "I don’t mind at all."
"I mean … I’m still engaged."
"Oh—Sebastian," he said. His smile faded into a worried frown.
"I don’t want to marry him." Her brows furrowed as she studied the ground.
"Grace," he said, "there’s one thing that you can be certain of."
"What?"
"You’ll never have to marry him—unless you want to."
"But how can I get out of it?"
"If you turn nineteen," he said, "and you’re still being forced to marry him, I promise you this." He took her chin in his hand. "Just say the word, one word, and you and I will disappear together."
"You promise?"
"I swear on my life."
******
Chapter 14 Revenge
Two grown men stood uncomfortable and nervous like little boys in front of their father. His Cuban cigar hung half-chewed, slimy, and burning from his teeth. He paced like a caged jaguar and he was furious. Not only had they lost a valuable ransom, but now it was impossible to get back into Chattanooga. The military had the entire area secured. Usuall
y successful during their assignments, his sons had screwed up this time. Three of his best men were dead and another was in jail.
"I was mistaken when I thought you two could get the job done! Instead, you come crawling back like dogs empty-handed!" he said. "After all of the time, after all of the resources we invested there, your incompetence screwed it up!" he bellowed in French. It was well known that the English language left a bad taste on his tongue and he refused to speak it unless necessary. Without warning, he slapped André hard across the cheek.
His loud booming voice echoed across the large marble-floored room as he yelled, "Where is Lucien?"
"He's still in The South. He's doing more scouting, sir," Jacques said and cringed, waiting for the next slap.
"You see! He is the smart one!" Montcalm said. "He knows what has to be done! How can I ever trust you two to take over the business when you can’t even learn the basics?"
"Don't worry father," André said, his voice low and controlled. "We will go back and secure the girl alive, you will see, but if she dies this time," his lips drew into a sneer, "so be it."
Montcalm stopped and tilted his head, perplexed. "Why would you risk going back into a secure city for only one ransom attempt? You think it is worth it? Why?"
"Because, poor baby's pride is hurt!" Jacques’ belly jiggled as he burst into laughter.
"Shut up!" André barked but Jacques continued to chuckle.
"So, it’s revenge is it?" Montcalm asked. "Never let your temper cloud your judgment, son. I forbid you to go back to Chattanooga," he said. "For now André, I have plans for you here in Québec. Jacques, you will go elsewhere, and this time you will do it right!"
André stood without expression other than a single twitch in his cheek. Regardless of what his father said, he had already made his own plans. He smiled as he twisted Montcalm’s words in his head. My father is right, he thought, when I serve my revenge, the plate will be frozen.
******
Chapter 15 The Party
The invitation arrived just minutes before Lydia called. "Are you going?" she asked. "We might not get to see him again for a long time."
"There's no way in the world I would miss it," Grace said.
The military beckoned yet another young man and Joel Bradford answered the call. Joel was a pencil-thin kid, with hair that was so curly that it had no end, and eyes as dark as the night. In the span of one summer, his height shot up to nearly six feet, but the rest of his body had yet to catch up.
Grace arrived a few minutes late and Lydia was waiting. "Guess what!" Grace said.
"What?"
"Dad just told me, I don't have to marry Sebastian!"
"You're kidding! Why?"
"Well, I stood up to him," Grace said, "like you told me to, and since, well, you know … I was shot, and all that stuff happened, he’s kind of mushy, and teary-eyed all the time. Yesterday, I figured, I would ask again, and he said he would think about it."
"You should ask for a new car too." Lydia said and grinned.
Grace laughed. "Anyway, just a little while ago, he told me that he had some legal stuff to sort through, but now, I can see who I want! I'm so excited! It’s like … I have a future."
"I bet Alex will like that news!" Lydia said, and laughed at Grace when she blushed. "Look at you! I swear I think you're in love!"
Grace’s smile was shy and she looked away embarrassed.
"And how could you have kept him a secret?"
"Honestly, I didn’t know there was anything to tell."
"Here comes Joel," Lydia said.
"Don’t say anything about the engagement."
"I won’t."
Joel excused himself from his guests and made his way to their side when he saw them enter the room.
"We’re gonna miss you!" Lydia said and wrapped him in a tight bear hug.
"Ouch! Take it easy woman!"
"Take care of yourself and be safe," Grace said.
He held his arms wide with a huge smile, "You know you want it, baby."
She grinned at his obvious flirting and gave him a squeeze. He was always hilarious and had made her laugh almost every day since the fifth grade.
"Where's Matt?" Joel scanned the room.
"He told me he’d catch up with you tomorrow," Lydia said. "He’s out fishing with Alex. They’ll be back in the morning."
"I hope we can get some hunting in before I leave," Joel said.
"I’m sure you will. Oh, take a look at this," Lydia said. She pulled back her jacket to reveal a Lady Desert Eagle strapped to her side.
"That—is awesome!" Joel said, drooling over the technological genius of the weapon. "Can I hold it?" he asked reaching toward it, but Lydia smacked his hand.
"No!"
"Awww … come on! I just want to hold it!" He begged and reached for the gun again.
"No!" Lydia said. "Matt is the only one who can touch it!"
Not realizing the innuendo in their words, Lydia glanced around the room when she heard snickers and sibilant whispers from the other guests, as they looked her way.
Her grin was rotten to the core when she continued. "On second thought," she said, much louder than necessary, "since you're going away soon, maybe I will let you touch it. And we can go out back, sweetheart … and I’ll show you how to use it."
Her self-amused smile faded when she looked over Grace’s shoulder.
"Oh great!" Joel said. "Who invited him?" He looked repulsed when he peered across the room and saw Sebastian sauntering toward them.
"Shhh …." Grace warned Lydia. "Don't say anything, he doesn't know yet."
"Know what?" Joel asked.
"I’ll tell you later," Grace said.
Joel took hold of her arm and leaned close. "Grace," His playfulness vanished and his tone turned serious. "I don’t want you to go out alone with him anymore."
"Why?"
"I can’t say," Joel said. "Just trust me."
Earlier that evening, the Astor house was quiet. Only Atticus was home and Sebastian was relieved that the old battle-axe was gone. Without her, the old man was easy to manipulate. A shot of brandy and a sob story was all he needed to start the endless flow of mindless drivel. The difficulty would lie with sorting out the valuable information and ignoring the rest. It could be tedious at times, but now, he knew where Grace was.
For several weeks, his attempts to see Grace had failed, and his calls went unanswered. She dominated his thoughts, but with her, he would have to take care. There could be consequences. As an alternative, he wondered curiously, how much a husband could actually get away with.
He arrived at the party uninvited but he didn't care. He was sure no one would mind that he had crashed. After all, he thought, he was a popular guy, and everyone loved his company.
He found Grace immediately. His senses were heightened, and he could almost taste her scent from across the room. Excitement strung his nerves tight, and the edges of his vision blurred, blocking everyone from view but her. Running his tongue slowly across his teeth, his mouth tingled at the softness of her skin, and the memory of its taste. With a hollow dead stare, he made his way across the room as the guests polarized away from him. He looked right through them as he shoved his way past.
"Hello Grace," he said, "you’re difficult to get in touch with." He leaned close to her ear, drew in a deep forceful lungful of air, and closed his eyes. "Mmm … can we speak alone for a minute?" He feigned a charming smile, took hold of her elbow, and led her toward the door.
Alone outside, he pulled her to a dark, sparsely lit corner of the house. "I've missed you, my sweet bride." He softly trailed his finger down her cheek.
She shivered.
"Cold?" he asked. "Let me warm you up." He put his arms around her and pulled her roughly against him. With his face in her hair, he took another deep breath. He could smell her nervousness and the scent aroused him.
She gingerly untangled herself from his grip and asked, "What did you need
to talk about in private?"
He forced himself to step back and look down at her, "Would you like to go with me tomorrow on a picnic?" he said and smiled down at her. "It'll be a beautiful day." He struggled to maintain enthusiasm, but his uncaring eyes spoke the truth. Only one thing excited him.
He studied her as she considered his offer.
"Sure, what time?" she said.
"Noon?"
"Noon it is."
Smoky gold eyes smoldered from the shadows. They narrowed and disappeared into the darkness.
Alex was wiped out. He slowly hauled himself into the guardhouse and fell into a chair before he started his shift. Satisfied, he had caught his limit—seven nice trout. His thoughts turned to Grace, as always, and wondered where she was. When he entered the main house, it was quiet with the exception of Atticus watching television in the study.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Astor."
"Come on in here and take a load off, young man," Atticus said. "How was the fishing?"
"It was great. You really should come with me sometime." Alex stopped, took a seat and looked around, "Where is everyone?" he asked, guessing Grace was out with Lydia.
"Anne’s out shopping buying who knows what, and Grace went out with Sebastian."
"She’s alone with Sebastian?"
"She decided it’s time to tell him she’s breaking it off," Atticus said. "Poor sap."
"What? Breaking it off? What do you mean?"
"The engagement," Atticus said. "She didn’t want to marry him so I—"
"Where did they go?" He gripped the arms of his chair.
"Oh, they went out to the Battlefield—out by Wilder Tower," Atticus said
Alex jumped to his feet and his chair flipped to its back and clattered across the room.
"Mr. Astor, no!" he said. "The man’s a killer!"
"What?" Atticus’ blood drained from his face and turned his fleshy fat cheeks from a drunken mottled pink to a sick pasty gray.
"Oh God! You didn’t know!"
"No, I didn’t!"
"How long have they been gone?"
"About an hour."
"Call the police!" Alex yelled over his shoulder as he ran out the back door.
