by C. D. Samuda
Leaning over to him, she spoke in a low tone, but loud enough for Charles to hear. “Honey, you don’t need to hold my hand. I’m not going anywhere.”
Braeden look down into her eyes. “I know sweetheart. I just love the feel of your soft hands in mine.”
Charles flushed and cleared his throat, looking quite uncomfortable at the very tame display of affection between them. It was apparent that Braeden noticed it too because the next thing she knew, he was trailing a finger along her cheek. His touch tingled her skin.
“I just love the silkiness of your skin,” he murmured.
Although she knew he was doing this to make Charles uncomfortable, her heart skipped a few beats. She flushed and looked away.
“Stop it,” she softly scolded. “You’re embarrassing me.”
“What’s there to be embarrassed about, it is true.”
He then leaned down and brushed his lips to her cheeks. Shade gasped, her eye widening as they flew to his. She could see the amusement dancing in his eyes. Not only was he messing with Charles, he was also messing with her. He was not going to get away with it.
With her blood singing through her veins, Shade reached up her free hand and placed it on his cheek. Looking deeply into his eyes she said, “That’s why I love you so much.”
Before he could respond, she reach up on her toes and pressed her lips to his. She felt him stiffen, but she did not pull back. His hand released hers and she took the opportunity to cup his face and pressed into him, their lips still sealed. What she didn’t expect was the scorching when their lips touched.
It was Charles’s cough and the elevator doors opening that pulled them apart. Braeden gave her a deadly look and she shot a few darts his way. Charles was the first to leave the elevator and approached a waiting black Lincoln.
Braeden took her elbow to propel her along, his grip a little too tight for her taste. He opened the door and ushered her in, then slipped in beside her, placing an arm around her shoulders. Annoyed at his overacting, she elbowed him. He held her tighter as Charles completed putting the bags in the trunk and got behind the wheel.
Occasionally Charles would glance through the rare view mirror, but Braeden never missed a beat. He leaned his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. She would have shrugged him off if she didn’t catch Charles eyeing them.
The ride was much the same for the next few hours. Braeden was fast asleep on her shoulder while Charles concentrated on the road. She didn’t know when, but she must have also dozed off because she awoke to find her head locked with her husband’s like two love birds.
“We are here, Master Braeden,” Charles announced as he pulled to a stop in front of a large white monument.
Two large columns opened up to the portico which led to the equally humungous double front doors, brass knocker and all. The gardens were vast with several bird feeds set between beds of roses and other flowering plants. Charles quickly retrieved the bags and opened the door.
Braeden slipped out first, then reached his hand out to her. She ignored it and stepped out of the car. She’d had too much of closeness to him and now she needed her space. Charles had gone through the door any, so there was no need to pretend. They entered the foyer, which led into an enormous drawing room, lavishly decorated for the eighteenth century.
The antique furniture were pristine, with colorful cushions and throw overs. A gigantic painting of a man hung over the mantle. His piercing hazel eyes were as though they saw right through her. If it hadn’t been for a slight sideburn, Shade would have sworn it was Braeden. She figure he must her the infamous grandfather who she was yet to meet.
Charles returned stood like a century for a minute before interrupting her perusal. “Shall I show Master Braeden and the Misssus to your suite?”
“Lead the way,” Braeden replied, taking her elbow yet again.
They went up two flights of spiraling staircases, and down a long wide passage. Charles stopped and opened the fourth door on the right, pushed and waved his hand.
“Thank you Charles.”
“Lunch will be served at one o’clock sharp, Sire. Please freshen up and take some rest.”
The butler-chauffeur allowed them inside the room, stepped out and pulled up the door behind him. Shade looked around and noticed that this was a suite with a small drawing room and one bedroom.
“Where’s my room?”
“This is our room,” Braeden declared.
“I’m not sharing a bed with you,” Shade said.
“That’s not an option,” he replied, his tone decisive. “Charles is my grandfather’s watch dog, he may turn up in the middle of the night for some reason and if he finds out that we aren’t a real couple…,” his voice trailed off.
“You’re doing this to impress your grandfather?” she asked, her eyes narrow. “Is he dying or something and wants to see you married before he dies?”
“Something like that.”
“Why a fake marriage?” she further questioned. “Why didn’t you marry someone you love?”
“Love?” he snickered. “Love is just a stamp people put on their weaknesses to make themselves feel better.”
“What? That doesn’t make sense.”
“It doesn’t have to make sense,” he replied. “I don’t believe in that nonsense people label as love.”
Chapter 14
Lunch was a lonely affair. The dining room table could seat about three dozen and only her and Braeden was present for lunch. It was at lunch that Shade knew there were other members of staff. A female in black and white uniform and white scarf over her hair served their food – a four course meal.
They ate in silence as neither of them had the mind to talk to each other. Shade was wondering how to handle the sleeping situation and she figured Braeden was thinking the same. Neither of them wanted to share the same room, let alone sleep on the same bed.
This pretending to be a happy couple was fast getting on her he nerves. The idea of spending the next two days like this was not something she was looking forward to. She quickly ate her lunch and asked to be excused from the table.
“Not yet,” Braeden replied. “We’ll meet my grandfather in a few minutes.”
“If you don’t mind, I need to use the lady’s room.”
“Oh,” he muttered. “Be back here in a few minutes.”
“I wouldn’t dream of being late.”
Using the bathroom was just an excuse to get away from him. Shade was curious about this entire arrangement. Braeden didn’t seem happy that he had come to visit his grandfather. Therefore she wondered about this arrangement with him. Something didn’t feel right. She left the bathroom and entered the bedroom when Braeden came in.
“You ready?”
“I thought I was supposed to meet you downstairs.”
“We are meeting him in his suite,” he said. “It’s down the hall.”
“You don’t look so happy about it.”
“I don’t see that as your concern,” he returned. “Just do as you’re supposed to.”
“Yes boss.”
When she moved to pass him he took her hand. “Loving couple, remember?”
“Do we have to touch to show that?”
“We’re supposed to be newlyweds, what do you think?”
Someone knocked the door at the moment. Braeden pulled her close, wrapping his arm around her waist before answering. When Charles opened the door, she was pressed up against him, his face looking as though he was annoyed with Charles.
“Pardon my interruption Sire,” Charles beamed. “Your grandfather will meet you now.”
“Let’s go sweetheart,” he murmured against her cheek.
Shade bristled, trying to resist the urge to knee his groin. But Charles was still standing there, therefore she placed a hand on his chest and smiled up at him.
“Honey, you have to let me go first.”
“Ha,” he laughed. “You’re right. I just love the feel of you in my arms.”<
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Charles turned and went back through the door. Shade took the opportunity to step out of Braeden’s arms. But he took her hand and held it tightly. She tried to pull away but his grip was like a vice.
“Don’t you think this is a bit much?” she said through clenched teeth, only for his ears.
“No my dear, it’s never too much to show affection to my loving wife.”
All she could do now was snarl at him as Charles stopped in front of a set of double doors. They came to a halt behind the butler as he pushed open both doors and stepped aside for them to enter.
The suite was more like an open plan studio apartment with more of the antique furniture that she’d seen downstairs. The drawing room opened up to the bedroom, separated by furniture. From where she stood, Shade made out the four poster bed with dark red satin sheets and drapery. Talk about Dracula’s boudoir. Even the wallpaper was like something out of a haunted castle.
Her eyes wandered around the room, taking in the brown carpeting and the old paintings on the already excessively patterned wallpaper. Her eyes hurt just looking at the place. It was like stepping into a period movie and she was yet to meet the main character.
The sound of creaking came from one corner and she turned to see a man in a wheelchair coming their way. His piercing hazel eyes settled on her. He was the same man in the portrait she’d seen in the drawing room downstairs.
Without taking his eyes off her, he addressed his grandson. “Braeden, you hate me that much that you would marry a blackie?”
“My marriage has nothing to do with how I feel about you, grandfather.”
“I get it, you knocked up your maid and her brothers must have threatened you.”
Shade could hardly hold in her amusement at the open bigotry the man displayed. The stench of his hatred for her filled the room.
“Charles!” he shouted. “Charles.”
“I am here Sire.”
“Why didn’t you tell me his wife was a nigger?”
Charles blinked and bowed. “I didn’t think it mattered Sire.”
“You useless piece of shit!” the man bellowed. “Get out of my sight.”
Charles quickly retreated, but not before giving her an apologetic look. Richard, turned his wheelchair and faced his grandson. They glowered at each other.
“You’re trying to kill me aren’t you?” he finally said. “So you can get everything. I won’t let a nigger inherit my assets.”
“This was your idea, remember?” Braeden said easily. “You even had me sign to it. I made good on my promise to get married before your birthday. Tomorrow is your birthday.”
“I get it, she’s pregnant … right?”
Although her blood was boiling like a witch’s cauldron, Shade could not help but laugh. She hooked her hand through Braeden’s and leaned her head on his shoulder, placing her free hand on her tummy.
“Honey, you think we might have a little Harrington growing inside me. I mean, he’s going to be half black you know.”
Braeden’s eyes widened for a second before his face broke into a grin. “Maybe a little princess with your mellow skin tone and my eyes?”
“How could you do it?” Richard Harrington stormed. “How could you marry one of them?”
Braeden’s nostrils flared, his eyes blaze. “With all due respect grandfather…,” he started to move in the old man’s direction.
Shade moved first, interrupting Braeden. She leaned forward, resting both hands on the handles of the chair. Her voice was steady a calm. “Because when you go black, you never ever go back.”
His eyes seemed to bore into her for a long time before his burst into a fit of laughter. After a long time his laughter subsided and he wheeled the chair to a window.
“Yeah, I know what it like to screw one of you,” he said. “Bettina.”
The way he said the woman’s name was reminiscent of when one remembered an old love.
“Bettina,” he repeated. “She knew how to give it good.” He twisted the chair around again. “But did you see me marry her?”
Braeden opened his mouth to speak again, but Shade beat him to it once more. She followed the chair, standing beside the old man.
“Good enough to screw, but not good enough to marry?”
“She was the maid,” he said, raking his eyes over her. “I admit you’re a looker. But Harrington men marry their own kind.”
“Like stuck-up bigoted idiots?”
Richard’s eyes flicked to Braeden. “You’re going to stand there and let her talk to me like that?”
Braeden gave his grandfather a blank stare. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“I’m calling Marten and have him remove you from my will, today.”
“Go ahead. I’ll just contest it. I have the contract you made me sign.”
“You’d take me to court over my own assets?”
“You’re forgetting one thing grandfather,” Braeden replied. “These assets you so tightly grasp would have been long gone if it wasn’t for my father. You remember the man you betrayed, don’t you?”
“Why you dwelling on the past?”
“Because the past is what makes you who you are.”
“That’s why you hate me because your mother cheated on your father….?”
“With you!” Braeden shouted. “You went to bed with your own son’s wife, the mother of your grandchild.”
The old man waved his hand. “That’s a long time ago. Your father was working too much and she felt lonely. I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
“He was working to rebuild the company you almost destroyed and now you’re holding me hostage for my own inheritance.”
The tension in the room was so thick that Shade felt it suffocating her. She wished to do something to alleviate it. But it appeared that these two needed time to vent and sort their problems. She now understood why he married her. His grandfather basically forced him into something he probably wasn’t ready for.
Richard was not only a bigot, he was obviously a miser. A hateful one, to hold on to a company that he could no longer manage. From the conversation, Braeden was the only heir, but the old man threatened to give it all away if he didn’t marry before his birthday. Somehow, Shade realized that Richard thought Braeden would forfeit such an agreement knowing his aversion to commitment.
Braeden turned and marched to the door. Then, as though forgetting something, he marched back, grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the room. The tension did not ebb with the distance between the two. Charles was standing just outside the door and he bowed slightly as they passed.
They spent most of the afternoon locked in their room away from Richard Harrington. Braeden brooded most of the time, while Shade kept out of his way.
Chapter 15
His back was stiff and his head pounded. Every time he visited his grandfather he’d get tensed. Braeden knew Richard hated black people, to an extent, but he never expected him to be so open about it. And Bettina? Did he really screw the housekeeper?
But in all this, he was proud of the way Shade handled the old man. She did not cringe, or cry and somehow he knew she wouldn’t. A smile lifted the corner of his lips.
“Let’s go,” he said to her.
She’d been lounging on the sofa in their suite watching him without saying anything. She raised her head as he spoke and he beckoned to her to follow.
“I’m not ready to face your grandfather,” she said. “I don’t want to be charged with assault.”
“I have a better idea to get back at him.”
“What?” she asked, cocking her head to one side.
He smiled. “You’ll see.”
He led her down the stairs and through a side door leading unto a patio. From there, they had a clear view of the swimming pool and the pool house. Being on the brick walk that surrounded the pool brought back memories. As he approached the pool house, his chest tightened as a bitter taste settled on his tongue.
It was this pool hou
se as a small boy that he saw his mother and grandfather together. The memory was like yesterday. He was looking for his grandfather who had promised to help him with his school project and had gone looking for him in his bedroom. When he didn’t find him there, he’d gone to the window to see if he was in the garden.
Just as he looked through his grandfather’s window, he say them slip into the pool house. Happy that had found his grandfather, her sprinted down the stairs and ran all the way there. What he saw was his mother in the arms of his grandfather. Even as a young boy, Braeden knew that something was wrong. His mother should not be kissing his grandfather.
If didn’t stop there. He’d seen them afterwards. He’d even seen his mother leaving his grandfather’s bedroom late at night while his father was on business trips or at the office. Richard said it happened once. Braeden knew that was a lie.
It would be unfair to place all the blame on his grandfather because his mother just upped left without as much as a goodbye. She left her only child behind, and never once came back.
Braeden shrugged off the past as they entered the pool house. All the old furniture was still there. A daybed, a few arm chairs, the bar, the shower room and a closet with swim wear and clothes for guests should they need it. Approaching the closet, he pulled open the bamboo doors, then pulled out a two piece wine red bikini and a swim trunk.
Tossing the biking to Shade, he instructed, “Put this on.”
Shade caught the garment and turned it over in her hand. “I’m not getting naked to model for that crusty old man.”
“We’re going swimming,” he said. “He can see us from his bedroom window.”
“I’m not modeling for that crusty old man,” she repeated.
“Just put the damn thing on,” he snapped. “Unless you’re ashamed of your body.”
“Oh no you didn’t.”
“So you are afraid then.”
