“She’s like his bloody daughter,” said Pinch, putting his head in his hands.
“I’ll take care of it.” I stood and squeezed his shoulder before leaving in search of Z.
“Whittaker,” said Z when I walked in. “Surprised to see you here.”
“Likewise,” I answered, even though we had two entirely different reasons. “I need a favor.”
Z had looked up, but with my request, he leaned back in his chair and steepled his hands. “What do you need?”
“I need to reach Darrow. Wellie’s quite ill, and I fear if she doesn’t come home now, she might regret not doing so.”
“I see,” he said, moving his steepled fingers closer to his mouth. “Have you asked her to come before now?”
“I’m quite certain Shiver would have done so.”
The man raised a brow. “Okay. I’ll assist.”
“Thanks, Z,” I said, turning to leave the office.
“Where are you going?”
“Heading to the abbey. Have a pleasant Thanksgiving,” I said. “I suppose you do celebrate it, given you were married to an American.”
Z held out a piece of paper.
“What’s this?” I asked, walking back to the desk to take it from him.
“Where you can reach Darrow.”
I hesitated, but before I could speak, Z did.
“I’ll not do it for you, Whittaker. You want her home, call her yourself. If I hear you passed this off to Mrs. Udele, I’ll never grant you another favor for as long as I live.”
“Bugger me,” I grumbled once I was far enough from Z’s office that he wouldn’t hear me. This was hardly something I could hand off to Pinch either.
I folded the paper and stuffed it in my pocket.
“Any luck?” Pinch asked when I walked back in.
“I had a chat with Z.”
“Thanks, Wild,” said Pinch. “You ready?”
“Just a few loose ends to tie up. I’ll meet you at the pub.”
Pinch waved behind him as he walked out.
After spending ten minutes staring at my desk phone, I picked it up and dialed the number scrawled on the paper. It rang several times, and just as I was about to hang up, I heard her voice.
“Thank you for calling King-Alexander Ranch. If you’re trying to reach Quint, please call the office phone.” I listened as Wren’s sweet voice rattled off another number. “Otherwise, leave a message, and we’ll call you back.”
I took a deep breath and placed the phone back in its cradle. This wasn’t the kind of message one left on voicemail. I’d try again once we reached the estate. In the meantime, I prayed that when I did, anyone but Wren would answer.
I’d taken to staying at the abbey, telling Shiver and Orina that if I did, I could spend more time with my niece and nephew. However, after two straight hours of endless crying by the unhappy Lilliya along with Kazmir’s ruckus, I begged off to Dorchester House, saying I had phone calls to make and I’d be back later.
In truth, I only had one call to make, and I dreaded it. Seven here meant it was either eleven or noon in the States, or was it earlier? How early had it been when I called before?
I pulled out my mobile and checked the zone for Dallas. It was in the center of Texas; it should be the same time there as wherever Wren and Darrow were.
I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw there was only a six-hour difference, which meant it had been ten when I called earlier. A very respectable hour.
Pulling the crumpled paper out of my pocket, I punched the number into the phone.
For the second time, I got the recording. I listened through to the end anyway, just to hear Wren’s voice.
I walked through the house I’d only been in a handful of times since I’d returned from Cumbria in January. Pouring a brandy, I went into the study, lit a fire, and sat in the same chair I had the night I’d tucked Wren into bed upstairs.
I fucking missed her, as Pinch so often mumbled about Darrow. Hearing her voice hadn’t made it better or worse. The pain I felt was at a constant level of torturous.
I counted every hour that passed, until finally, at midnight, I decided to try once more tonight.
It rang twice.
“King-Alexander Ranch,” the voice on the other end said.
“Hello, Wren? This is Wilder.”
26
Wren
“Hello? Is anyone there?” I heard Wilder say.
“Um, yes. Sorry. Hello, Wilder.”
“Wren.”
The way he said my name, I wanted to reach through the phone and touch him. Not just touch him, kiss him, and so much more.
“How are you?” he asked.
“I’m okay. You?”
“I’ve had three of Wellie’s brandies, so if you’re really asking, I’m apt to tell you the truth.”
“I’m asking.”
I heard his sharp intake of breath, followed by a long release of the same, and then something else. Was that a fire crackling in the background?
“Where are you?”
“Dorchester House, which is odd because I never come here anymore.”
“Why not?”
I heard more of the crackling fire and what sounded like him taking a sip.
“Wilder?”
“Because you’re here. Everywhere I look.”
My eyes filled with tears. I had to end this conversation before I began to sob. “Why did you call?”
“Right,” he said, clearing his throat. “It’s about Wellie.”
“What’s wrong?” I gasped.
“He isn’t well.”
“I’m sorry,” I said a second time, wishing Darrow was home so I could hand the phone off to her, but she wasn’t. She and Quint were out for dinner.
“I’m calling to ask Darrow if she could please come home. I fear if she doesn’t, she won’t make it in time.”
Tears rolled down my cheeks.
“Are you there?”
I nodded, knowing he couldn’t see, but I was unable to get the words out to answer.
“Wren, if you are still there, I want you to know… Bugger me—” I heard the phone rustling. “I want you to know…”
The call ended, but I clung to the phone’s receiver anyway while tears slid down my cheeks. Soon I was doubled over, crying harder than I had in months.
That’s the way Quint and Darrow found me when they came in only minutes later.
“Wren, what’s happened?” asked Darrow, racing over to me with Quint on her heels.
“Is it Z?” he asked.
I shook my head. How could I explain to Darrow that I was crying this hard over a man I’d never met? I couldn’t, because I wasn’t. I was crying over Wilder.
“Please, Wren. Tell us,” said my brother.
“It was Wilder,” I said between sobs.
Darrow covered her mouth. “What’s happened?”
“It’s Wellie.”
“Oh, God, no. Not Wellie.” Darrow broke down and cried as hard as I was while my poor brother tried to comfort us both.
I managed to curb my tears first. “I’m so sorry to worry you this way, Darrow. He’s ill, and Wilder has asked that you please come home as soon as possible.”
Quint put his arm around Darrow’s shoulders, and she rested her head on his chest. Feeling as though I was interrupting an intimate moment between them, I went to my bedroom, closed the door, and cried myself to sleep.
When I came out of the bedroom the next morning, puffy-eyed and hoping to avoid human contact, my brother was sitting at the kitchen table, waiting for me.
“I booked the tickets,” he said when I walked over to pour a cup of coffee.
“Thank you for doing that, Quint. I’m sure Darrow appreciates your help and support very much.”
“Your flight leaves in three hours.”
“Her flight.”
Quint stood. “No, your flight, Wren. Darrow is in no condition to fly to London alone, and you know I can’t go w
ith her; we’re about to head into the thick of fall calving season.”
“I can’t go!” I gasped.
“Are you telling me you’re going to stay here and handle the calves?”
I shook my head.
“I didn’t think so. That means you’re going because there isn’t any way I’m going to let her go alone, and there’s no one else.”
I thought through what my brother was saying. I could do this. I’d get Darrow to London, have Z meet us at the airport and take her to Whittaker Abbey, while I caught the next flight back to the States.
“You’re right. I’ll do it.”
The goodbye between Quint and Darrow was as awkward as I imagined Wilder found it when she was with Axel. It hadn’t occurred to me earlier, but thank heavens my brother wasn’t traveling with Darrow. It was Axel’s father who was ill, and that would be incredibly unfair to him.
For the fourth time in the last three hours, I called every number I had for Z, leaving messages at each while trying to avoid Darrow overhearing.
“This is Wren again,” I said. “I need you to meet us at Heathrow tomorrow morning. No, wait. It isn’t tomorrow; it’s the following morning. Disregard my other messages. Anyway, Z, I need you to meet us at eight…” What day was it? “Um, Friday morning. I beg you, Z. If that isn’t right, figure it out. We’re boarding now. Oh, and if you haven’t gotten the other messages, I’m traveling with Darrow Whittaker, and she needs you to take her out to the abbey as quickly as possible.”
“Who was that?” Darrow asked when I joined her at the gate. “Was that Wilder?”
“No, sweetheart. I was calling Z.”
“Why?”
“He’s going to meet us at the airport.”
“Why?” she asked again.
I put my hand on the small of Darrow’s back, navigating her toward the flight attendant who was asking for all first-class passengers to board.
“He’s going to give us a lift to the abbey,” I lied. It wasn’t a big lie. He would be delivering Darrow.
“But Wilder’s picking us up. I spoke to him just after Quint purchased the tickets.”
“Okay, then. Wilder is picking us up,” I agreed, pushing Darrow toward the plane and praying my plan would still work.
It was a prayer I said several times over the course of the next ten hours while Darrow slept. I wondered if she’d taken something. I wished I would have. It was too late now though; we’d be arriving in under two hours.
“Great news,” the pilot said minutes later. “We’ll be landing forty-five minutes early. That’s seven forty-five London time.”
Like me, most of the first-class cabin murmured sounds of appreciation. It was a lucky break, given it was unlikely Wilder would arrive at the earlier time, but Z definitely would. He was a stickler about flight times. He always had been. He’d check, and he’d be there to meet us, and Wilder wouldn’t.
“Wake up, sweetie,” I said to Darrow, rubbing her arm. “We’re getting ready to land.”
She sat straight up and looked at her watch. “Already? Did I really sleep the entire flight?”
“You did,” I answered, envying her. It was okay, though. Soon I’d be on my way back to the States, and this time I’d be the one to take something that would put me to sleep.
As the pilot taxied the plane to the gate, I not only prayed, I crossed my fingers, and if I’d been able to in my boots, I would’ve crossed my toes too.
I got Darrow situated, off the plane, and almost through customs when I saw Axel waiting on the other side of the glass. I breathed a sigh of relief as much as sorrow that it was his face I saw rather than Wilder’s, but it was what I’d wanted.
Now all I had to do was get Darrow to him, get over to the ticket counter, pick up my boarding pass for my return flight, and then get back through customs and security before it left. I checked her watch. Thanks to our early arrival, I had almost three hours. I should be on the other plane in plenty of time.
Given my credentials, both of us were through customs in record time. I stood back as Darrow ran into Axel’s arms, thankful my brother wasn’t here to see their reunion. I checked my watch again. It was probably too soon for me to turn and run, so to speak, but soon I’d let Darrow know my plans and be on my way.
“Excuse me,” I heard a voice say from behind me.
I quickly apologized and took a step to the left, out of the man’s way.
“Hello, Wren,” said another man I bumped into and whose arms were grasping both of mine, holding me upright. “It’s nice to see you.”
“Wilder?”
27
Wilder
“Come with me,” I said, taking Wren by the hand. I knew I sounded abrupt, but I had so much to say, and I didn’t want to do it in front of an audience.
“Wait,” she said, trying to free herself from my grasp.
By then we were far enough away from the crowd of people trying to get past customs that I stopped. I didn’t let go of her hand, though. Instead, I turned and faced her, gazing into the most beautiful eyes I’d ever seen on the most beautiful face with the most beautiful smile. Although she wasn’t smiling at the moment.
I cupped her face with my palm and wiped away the tear that ran down her cheek.
“Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?”
Wren’s gaze met mine, but she didn’t speak; she only shook her head. She looked away as more tears ran down her cheeks. I put my arm around her shoulders and pulled her close.
“I wish you’d talk to me.”
“What is there to say?” she murmured.
I leaned back, cupping her cheek with my palm again. “There’s so much.”
“My flight…I need to go,” she said, shaking her head.
“What do you mean?”
“I’m flying back to the States.”
“But you just got here.”
“I have no reason to stay.”
I felt the air leave my lungs. Had I really meant so little to her? If that were the case, why had she confided so much in me?
“When is your flight?”
“Eleven.”
I looked at my watch. I had a little over two hours to convince her not to leave, at least not so soon. I looked around; while we weren’t in the midst of a throng of people any longer, where we were, certainly wasn’t private.
“Let’s please find somewhere we can talk.”
“Wilder…”
“I’m begging, Wren.”
She took several deep breaths while our eyes held. “Okay,” she finally answered, her voice barely above a whisper.
There was a security office on the next concourse over. Perhaps I could finagle a way for us to talk there. With my arm still around her shoulders, I led her away from the customs area. I saw Pinch waiting with Darrow nearby and shook my head, hoping neither would approach. I didn’t want to share Wren with anyone right now. I had so little time to make my case.
Thankfully, Pinch nodded, leading Darrow in the opposite direction.
When we reached the office, I knocked and then showed the officer who opened the door my credentials.
“Can I help you, sir?” the woman asked with wide eyes.
“May I make use of this room for a few minutes?”
“Of course,” she said, scurrying past us. Thankfully there was no one else inside.
“Would you like to sit down?” I asked, closing the office door.
“I’ve been sitting for several hours.”
“Understood.”
Now that I had her alone, my mind raced with where to begin. “It’s nice to see you.”
“Thank you.” She looked everywhere but at me.
“There are so many things I want to say to you, but I don’t know where to begin,” I confessed.
“Didn’t you say it all when you called?”
I watched as her eyes filled with tears and she turned away. I got up and walked around her so I could see her face. I held her still
when she tried to turn away a second time.
“I don’t feel as though I had time to say anything.”
“Why are you doing this?”
I sat on the edge of the desk behind me, put my hands on her waist, and pulled her close to me. “What is it you think I’m doing?”
“Why are you insisting we talk? When you called…”
We were going around in circles. I had no idea what she was referring to, and it didn’t appear she was going to tell me.
“I may have had a brandy or two, but I remember our conversation, Wren. Of this much, I’m absolutely certain—the very last thing I said before you ended our call was that I miss you so much I can’t breathe. Is that what has you so upset? If it is, I can’t help it nor will I apologize for saying it. That’s how I feel.”
“You ended our call, and you didn’t say you missed me.”
“I don’t want to argue with you. Please tell me what I can say or do that will allow us to move past this.”
Wren folded her arms and raised her chin. “What about when you said you stay away from Whittaker Abbey because everywhere you looked you saw me?”
“Yes. What of it?”
She tried to wiggle out of my grasp, but I wouldn’t relent.
“Yes, Wren, everywhere I look I see you. Even places you never were, because I imagine taking you there. And the places where we were…that’s harder.” I reached up with one hand and smoothed the wrinkle in her brow. “God, I wish you’d tell me what you’re thinking.”
“I thought you meant…”
I stood, still keeping one arm firmly around her. “You thought I meant stay away because I didn’t want to be reminded of you? It’s true, but not in the way you’re thinking. It was too painful, Wren.”
“But you didn’t…”
“Didn’t what?”
She shook her head, trying again to look away. As soon as I thought we were getting somewhere, she’d pull back, and it was making me angry. I’d just confessed how much I’d missed her, but she didn’t say she felt the same.
The Lord and the Spy Page 14
