To Love a Stranger

by Adrianne Byrd

  “What’s it to you?” Shaw questioned his date.

  “Nothing,” the woman answered. “I’m surprised is all.”

  “Nothing happened,” Madeline lied.

  Suddenly, Russell’s smooth baritone floated into the room. “I thought something happened,” he said.

  Everyone whipped around and made a collective gasp at the polished GQ ghost of Russell Stone. He stepped through the archway, eyes locked on Madeline.

  Everyone, except his wife, crowded around him in approval of his transformation.

  Everything about him was exactly the same…except for the eyes. Still a rich sable, but the soul within was damaged. For the first time Madeline wondered what the past six years has been like for him. To be lost. To not know who you were.

  Russell smiled.

  Madeline smiled back.

  Madeline assessed in his low-cropped hair, his creamy milk-chocolate skin, his broad, but lean physique and finally came to terms with the truth—Russell Stone was back. Brick-by-brick, the walls of her defenses crumpled to the ground. And in that moment, Madeline realized she’d never been more scared in her life.

  Chapter 9

  A chivalrous Russell pulled out his wife’s chair at the dinner table and then smiled at her in a way that made her skin tingle.

  “You look lovely this evening,” he said quietly by her ear. The sound of his deep voice sent a tingle to each of the nerve endings along her spine.

  “You clean up pretty good yourself.” Madeline managed to say.

  “I was trying to impress you,” he said with an adorable crooked grin.

  “Mission accomplished.” She couldn’t bring herself to admit she missed the scruffy beard and mustache.

  Russell winked and then walked to the other side of the table.

  Caught blushing like a silly teenager with her first crush, Cecelia leaned toward her and spoke with a note of awe. “I stand corrected. It is him.”

  No, Madeline thought. This was a better version of Russell.

  Everyone took their seats, leaving the chair directly across from Madeline free for Russell.

  Christopher chuckled and the sound melted the smile off of Madeline’s face. When she made a cursory glance around the table, all eyes were on her.

  Cecelia leaned over again. “What’s wrong with you?”

  “Nothing,” the whispered lie slipped from her lips. “I was just being…friendly.”

  The night’s menu consisted of Russell’s favorite Italian foods—fried calamari as an appetizer, chicken scarpariello for the main course and crème brûlée for dessert.

  Madeline suspected the meal was Christopher’s attempt to jar some nugget of memory loose in Russell’s head, but Russell just gave the meal a perfunctory compliment and returned to gazing at her.

  “So when do we get to hear your side of things?” Cecelia asked, her boredom of the idle chatter echoed in her voice. “You don’t remember who you are, but what do you remember? There had to be a story before this Bozo—” she indicated Shaw “—popped up and told you who you were. What were you doing?”

  “Mother!” Madeline was mortified.

  “What? It’s a perfectly good question,” Cecelia replied.

  True, Madeline thought. It was way past time for a more in-depth explanation of Russell’s story, but she couldn’t halt this newfound protectiveness. “Can’t it at least wait until after dinner?”

  “It’s okay,” Russell interrupted the budding argument. “I don’t mind answering. I don’t have anything to hide.”

  The table fell silent as all eyes fell on him.

  Glancing around, Russell cleared his throat. “Actually, Mrs—?”

  Eyes shifted around the table.

  “Currently, Ms. Howard. I’ve had a couple of marriages since the last time I saw you, but if you are whom you claim to be then I’m also your mother-in-law,” Cecelia said.

  “Ah,” Russell said. “I assumed sister-in-law given the striking resemblance.”

  To everyone’s surprise, Cecelia’s face blushed a deep burgundy from the compliment. She flashed Russell a genuine smile.

  Smug, now that the tables had turned, Madeline leaned toward her mother and asked, “What in the world is wrong with you?”

  Cecelia’s smile evaporated. “Please do go on with your story…Russell.”

  Russell set aside his napkin and retold the same story Shaw related the night before.

  Denitra took the spotlight with a broad smile. “I was the one who saw the article first. It ran with a grainy black-and-white photo. Despite the beard and the moustache, I knew there was something familiar about the shape of his face,” she said.

  Cecelia gave the young woman a withering smile. “Very good, dear. You can read.”

  “Then she brought the article to me,” Shaw interrupted. “And I went and checked it out.”

  Denitra’s hands flew to her hips as she glared at her partner. “We went and checked it out,” she said.

  “Well,” Christopher leapt in before the argument escalated. “We’re grateful to both of you,” he said.

  The detective and the tramp clammed up and forced smiles on their faces for their host.

  “It’s certainly an intriguing story,” Cecelia said. “It’s just too bad about the amnesia part. It leaves a lot of questions unanswered.”

  Madeline’s gaze dropped to her half-eaten meal.

  “You know the answers to more questions than I do,” Russell said. “There’s nothing I can do about the past, Ms. Howard. All I can do is ask for forgiveness and move on.”

  Madeline didn’t look up, but she felt the weight of his stare. Could she ever forgive him or forget about their past? She wrestled with the question while playing with her food. By the time everyone excused themselves from the table, she was no closer to an answer.

  Christopher pounded a hand against his brother’s back. “What do you say we share a smoke in my study? I just so happen to have a new box of cigars we can share over a nice glass of Brandy.”

  Russell frowned. “I don’t smoke.” He thought for a second and then added, “Do I?”

  Everyone shared an awkward chuckle, even Madeline couldn’t help but join them. “Another one of your disgusting habits.” She regretted the words the moment they flew out of her mouth. “Sorry,” she added after a glance at his wounded expression.

  “Don’t be.” He turned to Christopher. “Perhaps another time? I hoped Madeline would join me for a walk outside?”

  Again, all eyes shifted in her direction. “Well, I, uh—”

  “Would it help if I said ‘please’?”

  His eyes implored her and more bricks tumbled from her wall of defense. “Sure. Let me just go up and get my jacket.” When Madeline left the dining room, Cecelia followed fast on her heel.

  “What exactly is your plan?”

  “Plan?” She rushed up the stairs, hoping to shake her mother. Of course, she had no such luck.

  “Don’t play games with me. What are you going to do now that your husband has returned from the dead?”

  “There’s nothing to do. I’ll have to return the life-insurance money and give up my stake in Stone Cold Records and the fashion line.”

  “Oh, is that all?” Cecelia asked, matching Madeline’s tone of nonchalance. “Are you going to divorce him? What about the prenuptial agreement?”

  Madeline rolled her eyes as she breezed into the guestroom. “I don’t have a firm plan, Mother. I just know I don’t want to do anything that may jeopardize House of Madeline. The way things are going, the only way to finance the project is with Russell’s money. If I was dealing with the old Russell—”

  “You wouldn’t have a snowball’s chance in hell,” her mother conceded, and smiled as Madeline slid into her fur coat. “Sounds like a firm plan. I keep telling you we’re so much alike.”

  Madeline froze.

  Cecelia sobered. “What?”

  “Nothing,” Madeline lied, and then marched out
of the room.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to send someone to act as a bodyguard for you?” Christopher joked while they waited for Madeline. “Your wife has been known to have one heck of a right hook.”

  “That much I know.” Russell rubbed his jaw. “I’m still feeling the one from last night.”

  Christopher nodded, opened his mouth but then quickly closed it.

  “What is it?”

  “Huh?”

  “There’s something you want to tell me,” Russell said, observing him. “Tell me.”

  Christopher glanced toward the empty staircase and then back at his brother. “It’s about you and Madeline. I, uh, don’t know exactly how to tell you this but, uh…” another glance at the staircase “…before your…accident. Things between you two weren’t all that good.”

  “Yeah. I gathered that was the reason for the right hook last night. That and my…the lady, Ms. Crowne, I crashed with.”

  “That’s just it,” Christopher said solemnly. “It wasn’t just one lady.”

  Russell frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…you were known to be quite the ladies’ man.” He cleared his throat. “We actually have that in common.” While Christopher paused to let his words sink in, Madeline appeared at the top of the staircase.

  “There were more?” Russell asked.

  “We can talk about it later,” Christopher promised and then beamed up at Madeline. “That was quick!”

  Madeline took one look at Russell’s slack jaw and asked, “You can talk about what later?”

  “Everything,” Christopher supplied. “The business, family, you name it.”

  Suspicious, her gaze swung between the brothers. Russell looked stricken and had yet to meet her eyes. “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Y-yes,” he croaked, and then cleared his throat. “Are you ready?” He reached for the front door. “I’m depending on you to be the guide.”

  “It’s pretty hard to get lost,” she said, crossing the threshold and into the cold night. She tugged her collar around her ears and burrowed a portion of her face into the warm Chinchilla. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea. It’s freezing out here.”

  Russell closed the door behind them and surprised her by wrapping an arm around her waist. “I can keep you warm, if you like?”

  Madeline’s knees buckled as thin white clouds of her frozen breath puffed out in front of her. By some miracle, she found the strength to ease out of his embrace. “I can manage.”

  An awkward smile wobbled onto Russell’s face. “Sorry. I-I…forgive me.” He offered his arm. “How about that walk?”

  Drawing a deep breath, she slid her arm through his and then led him down the stone porch.

  Instantly reminded of their brief courtship, Madeline piled a few more bricks back onto her wall of defense and prepared for anything. Instead, while they walked around the perimeter and entered the Stones’ winter garden, Russell remained silent.

  Stealing a sideway glance, the man at her side appeared lost in his thoughts as he measured his steps, staring at the ground. Grateful for the opportunity to watch and study him more freely, Madeline failed to find anything amiss in his profile.

  “Do I pass inspection?” Russell asked, suddenly.

  She jerked her gaze away in embarrassment.

  Russell laughed. “It’s all right. I’m getting used to being stared at.”

  Madeline looked at him again. “It’s just that it’s all so…unbelievable. A miracle, really.”

  “It’s not a good one for you, I take it?”

  Should she lie?

  “I have to tell you,” he said. “I’m not as confident or as certain as everyone else about this whole thing.” His gaze returned to the ground. “I feel like a fraud in these clothes.”

  Madeline continued to silently stumble her emotional labyrinth continued and she chose to remain quiet.

  “I want to remember.” He turned toward the house. “Heck, who wouldn’t want to remember a place like this?”

  “Actually, you didn’t live here,” she said, forgetting her decision to not talk. “Our house is a few minutes north of here.”

  He turned toward her, his face washed in silver moonlight. Madeline’s heart skipped more than a few heartbeats.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Well,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to pull her gaze away. “It’s a little bigger than Christopher’s place.”

  “Bigger?” He frowned. “How much room do we need?”

  She blinked, once again thrown off guard. “Uh, actually, you and Christopher have always had this sort of competition. You know, houses, cars—”

  “Mistresses?”

  The rest of Madeline’s words died on her tongue.

  Russell attempted to smile, but it hung awkwardly on his lips. “Christopher said I stole you from him. Was it because of a burning attraction between us…”

  “Or a strategic chess move?” she asked for him.

  He nodded.

  “Only you can answer that question,” she admitted and feared his next question, but it came anyway.

  “What was it for you?”

  A calculation for the best lucrative marriage edged by a small spark of physical attraction. “It was combination of things.”

  He nodded but his gaze seared straight through her. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

  “You just did.”

  He finally flashed a genuine smile, however, it didn’t stay long. He seemed to struggle with his next question. “Madeline, did you marry me for the money?”

  Chapter 10

  “What did you tell him?” Lysandra asked, eyes as wide as silver dollars. “C’mon, you’ve left me hanging for two days. You’re killing me. Just tell me!”

  Madeline marched across her office to her door and glanced around to make sure no one had overheard her excited cousin. A few curious eyes drifted her way, but the staff had been eyeballing her all morning. Everyone was dying to question her about Russell’s miraculous return. Let them stew. She closed the door and turned to her cousin. “Keep your voice down.”

  “Well?” Lysandra persisted. “Don’t give me the story in piecemeal. Spit it out.”

  Madeline crossed her arms, still feeling Friday night’s cold chill. “I told him the truth. What else could I do?”

  Lysandra dropped into one of the room’s empty leather chairs. “You could’ve lied,” she offered weakly. “Have you forgotten what’s at stake here?”

  Madeline hands exploded up into the air. “How can I with you, Mother and my conscience driving me up the wall every five minutes?”

  “Then why in the hell did you tell him the truth?”

  “Why lie?” She returned to her cluttered desk, unsure of which pile of sketches, swatches or financial spreadsheets to dive into first. “I married for security and Russell married a trophy wife to produce a couple of kids to carry on the Stone family name. The old Russell understood these things. If I was ever confused, his endless parade of girlfriends quickly put me in my place. You know. You were there.”

  “And the new Russell?”

  He looked crestfallen, Madeline thought, but said, “It doesn’t matter.”

  “But the line—”

  “Will be fine,” Madeline snapped. “You know there’s still a chance we’re dealing with an impostor and in that case we’re just spinning our wheels for nothing,” Madeline said to her cousin.

  “Do you still believe there’s a chance he’s an imposter?”

  No.

  “I’m saying that we have ten months before we launch and I’d rather concentrate on that right now. I’ll deal with everything then. When the blood test results come in. My biggest headache right now is how to explain all of this to the children. It’s bad enough I kept them out of school today, but I will have to give them some kind of explanation.”

  Lysandra opened her mouth to argue, but Madeline had perfected her mother’s highbrow st
are and her cousin exhaled a long breath and then heaved herself out of the chair. “Fine.” She strolled to the door. “I just hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “Close the door behind you,” Madeline ordered. Once alone, she slumped back in her chair and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling.

  Do I know what I’m doing?

  Russell couldn’t keep Madeline out of his mind—not that he was trying that hard. He found everything about her fascinating. She had beauty, brains and, above all else, honesty. When he’d ask whether she married him for money, he fully expected her to be outraged by the question. Then after a brief pause, he wanted her to deny it. But when she calmly told him “yes,” he could only respect her.

  A knock on his bedroom door jarred him from his thoughts and his shoulders slumped at the prospect of Christopher probing his already taxed brain to force memories into his consciousness that simply eluded him.

  “Who is it?” he inquired, crossing to the door.

  “Laurell,” a woman whispered.

  Who? He opened the door and then had to rush backward when the woman’s tall willowy frame bolted inside, kicked the door closed with the back of her heel and wrapped her arms around him.

  “Oh, baby. I can’t believe you’ve really returned to me.”

  Before Russell could speak, the strange woman blanketed his face with kisses.

  “I was off for the holidays, but when the kitchen staff told me about your return, I cried with joy.” She kissed him again and began to pull at his clothes.

  “Whoa. Whoa.” He grabbed at her arms. “There’s has to be some kind of mistake.” He tried to push her away, but instead found himself tumbling backward onto the bed.

  A devilish grin seized the young woman’s face and she dove on top of him. “Don’t fight me. It can be just like it used to be. Well, I am married now, but what Henry doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

  What? “Look, lady. There’s been some kind of mistake. I’m not who you think I am. I mean, I am…but I’m not.”

  She stopped, stared at him and then burst out laughing. “Come on. You’re not gonna pull that amnesia bit with me, are you?”