Blazing Love: A Hot, Romantic Suspense Series, Book 2 (The Carlisle Sisters) (5 page)

“Tracy,” he said as he grasped her shoulders and pulled her up.  “It’s okay. I was just as into it as you were.  Even more so.  You do crazy things to me, babe.”

She swung her legs onto the ground and leaned her head against his shoulder.

“Ditto that,” she smiled wanly.  She looked around the courtyard.  “Where are we, anyway?”

“My rented villa,” he said.

“Nice.  I would like to see inside sometime,” she murmured.

“Well. what wrong with right now?”

She laughed.

“Not tonight.  I’m not going to put my resolve to the test again.  I’ve already failed once,” she chuckled.

He laughed with her.  Then he stood.

“Come on.  Let’s get you home,” he said softly.

He extended his hand and she took it.  They walked back to her villa with their arms around each other’s waists.  Tracy felt it had been a very good night.

*****

Madame Hélène Lemaire stood at the window of her small, rented cottage.  Since sunup she had been surveying the passersby, waiting for another chance to speak with the Carlisle girls.  As she kept a keen eye on the street, careful to avoid making eye contact with anyone for fear of being recognized or of drawing in a local gossip, she considered the words she would say when given the opportunity to address them once again.

With the help of a private investigator, she had tracked down Greyson in Texas and had learned all there was to know about both his personal and professional lives.  She knew that he was working with the Carlisle ladies after their inheritance of the resort.  She knew he was in a relationship with the youngest of the three. 

After further research on the sisters, she’d become well-versed in their backgrounds, as well.  Most importantly, she knew that Tracy was an artist and that, by luck, she would be showing her paintings at the Art de Magnifigance Exhibit.  Upon receiving this information, she immediately took advantage of the situation and secretly traveled to Saint-Tropez with hopes of encountering her; using an assumed name to secure the small cottage right next door to the villa in which the Carlisle girls would be staying while visiting.  It was there she lay in wait for her chance to relay a message to Greyson.

Of course she could have dispatched a messenger to America to visit Greyson in person.  She may have even called him on the phone to explain everything.  But the risk was too great.  Even the arrangements she’d made so far had to be made in complete secrecy for fear of leading someone right to Greyson; someone who meant to cause him harm.

Aside from the private investigator, only she and her ailing husband, Marceau, knew of Greyson’s whereabouts and true identity.  And now she could have a message carried to him without anyone ever knowing about it.  And by the time he learned the truth and followed her instructions, it would be too late for anyone to get in his way.

But, while she had hoped to reach Greyson through Tracy, that objective was proving to be more difficult than she’d expected.  If only Tracy and her sister had agreed to come in when she’d asked.  She could have explained everything.  But instead she had scared them off.

Even so, she could not give up.  They were her only chance at righting a terrible wrong and securing the future of the Lemaire family.  What a godsend that they were in Saint-Tropez.  The gods had answered her many prayers.  If only she could find a way of talking to them—and soon.  Time was running out and all might be lost forever.

Then, just as the sun began its final descent, she saw the Carlisle girls passing by her window once again.  She ran to the door, anxious for another chance at speaking with them.

“Mademoiselles!  One moment.  Please,” she begged.  “I would speak to you for only a few minutes.”

Tracy and Beth looked at her warily.

“I’m sorry, but we must be on our way,” Tracy said.

“I promise it will not take long.  But, please, I must speak to you.  It is extremely important,” Hélène pleaded.

Beth looked at Hélène closely.  She was an elderly woman, probably in her seventies.  Petite with a slender figure.  She wore her graying brunette hair in a huge bun atop her head with wisps escaping from under her cap.

She was an attractive woman.  Beth could imagine how lovely she must have been in her youth.  And in the light of day she did not appear as menacing as she had when they’d first met her in the dark.  The entreaty in her lovely blue eyes seemed sincere.

“What do you want to speak with us about?”  Beth asked.

“Greyson Merrick,” Hélène said.

“Grey?  What about him?  How do you know him?”  Beth demanded.

“If you would come in I will explain,” Hélène said urgently.

Beth looked at Tracy.  Tracy nodded agreement.

“Alright,” Beth said cautiously.

They went inside the cottage and Hélène closed and locked the door.  Then she drew the shades on both the windows and the door.  Tracy and Beth were alarmed.

“Why did you do that?  What’s going on?”  Tracy insisted.

“It is for your protection.  I have come here secretly but if there is any chance that I
have
been followed, I do not want you to be seen speaking with me,” Hélène said fearfully.  “Trust me.  For your safety’s sake.”

“Why should we trust you?  Who are you?”  Beth asked.

Hélène looked at them directly.

“I am Hélène Lemaire, Greyson Merrick’s grand-mère,” Hélène said.

“His grandmother?”  Beth asked.

“Yes.  And I have dire news that I must impart to him,” Hélène said.  “You must have him come to Saint-Tropez
immediately
.”

“And how do we know you are telling the truth about your identity?”  Tracy asked.

“You do not.  You must trust me,” Hélène said.

“Trust you?  We know nothing about you,” Beth exclaimed.

“Please.  I am who I say I am.  And when I’ve told you my story, you will know that I speak the truth,” Hélène said.  “Come.  Let us be comfortable.”

Hélène walked further into the room expecting them to follow.  Beth wasn’t sure why but she believed the woman.  Was she
really
Grey’s grandmother?  Or was she just some insane woman who had somehow overheard them speaking about him?

Whatever the case, their day of shopping had suddenly taken a left turn.  Beth looked guardedly at Tracy who shrugged and nodded.  They’d already come this far.  So, why not see what the woman had to say? 

They moved deeper into the dim room and Hélène motioned for them to sit on a beautiful red, silk-upholstered sofa while she settled into an exquisitely carved mahogany armchair directly across from them.

“Greyson’s real last name is Lemaire.  He is set to inherit a title and all that goes with it.  But there are others who feel the title belongs to them.  This places him in grave danger,” Hélène said grimly.  “As the rightful air, he must accept his entitlement before his grand-père takes his last breath.”

“And if he doesn’t?” Beth asked fearfully.

“Then he may take his last breath as well,” Hélène stated flatly

.

Chapter 4

T
racy stood on the balcony outside of the villa’s salon and stared out at the calm ocean.  It was Hélène had told them.  Yet, if they didn’t take it seriously, Grey could end up dead.

Beth had been near hysteria when they’d returned to the villa, insisting upon calling Grey to warn him of what was going on.  Thankfully, she had agreed to allow Tracy to discuss the situation with Blaze first, just in case someone was listening in on the line.  Because Beth was so anxious, Tracy had insisted that she take a sleeping pill and, despite her initial protestations, she was finally resting soundly.

Tracy had called Blaze immediately and was waiting for him to arrive.  She needed someone to help her figure the situation out and she knew that Blaze was the man for the job.  Aside from having the skills and knowledge to handle any situation, he was Grey’s closest friend and confidant.  He would know exactly where to begin.

What Hélène said had sounded ridiculous and very dated.  Where in Europe was the throne still relevant in the twenty-first century?  Were families of royal descent
really
still killing each other over it?  And, if so, who was it that wanted Grey dead?  The last question was one that Madame Lemaire could not answer despite truly believing that his life was in danger.

Tracy sighed as she rubbed the back of her neck.  Who would have thought that her trip to Saint-Tropez would have held this kind of intrigue and danger?  She glanced down into the courtyard and saw Blaze walking through the gate.

“Blaze!”  she called out.

He looked up and she waved.  He returned the gesture.

“Are you going to let me in?”  he smiled.

“Of course,” she responded then skirted back into the house.

She ran to open the door and threw herself into his arms.

“Thank God you’re here,” she breathed.

He held her tightly and kissed the top of her head.  He could feel the shudders rolling through her body.

“What’s wrong, babe?  You’re trembling,” he asked in concern.

She pulled back and led him into the salon.  They sat on the sofa and she faced him.  She told him about their encounters with Madame Hélène Lemaire.  He listened closely to what she said.

“What are we going to do?  Beth is a wreck and frankly I can’t blame her.  She’s frantic with worry.  It was all I could do to keep her from calling Grey right away and possibly getting him killed in the process.” Tracy exclaimed.

Blaze thought about the cryptic phone call that Grey had received.  Until now he hadn’t had any luck tracing the call and the woman had not called again.  Instead she’d sent a handwritten note; printed in block letters to limit the ability to trace it back to any one person.

The message had been left at Grey’s office door the night before.  And, while it had been threatening in nature, no clues were given as to the significance behind it.  It was obvious that whoever had written it was toying with him; causing him to worry and wonder.  Blaze told Tracy about the incidents.

“My God!  What is he going to do?  I had assumed that this person was here in France, but what if they are in America?  In Texas?  Just waiting to strike,” she asked fearfully.

“I think the best thing is to have him come to France.  I’m not sure but my gut tells me that his nemesis
is
here in France and we need to confront him or her on their territory,” Blaze replied.  “Where is this palatial estate that Grey is supposed to inherit?”

“In the eastern part of the country.  It’s called La fin de la Victoire in Franche Comté,” she said. 

“Victory’s End.  I’ve never heard of it,” he said.

“Hélène said it is the principal seat of a small village.  At one time, centuries ago, it was a huge, thriving town that was supported by the Lemaire family,” Tracy explained.  “But as time passed social progress was made and the old values and traditions have ceased.  The Lemaire family is no longer responsible for the economic welfare of the village residents.”

“Which is why the villagers have migrated to other parts of the country.  Without the support of the Lemaire family they had to go elsewhere to earn a living,” Blaze surmised.

“Yes.  Some stayed in the village but many left,” she said.

“Well, we need to go to Victory’s End as soon as possible and do a little snooping,” Blaze said.

“Hélène said that she would return home to be able to make our introductions to the household,” she said.  “And she warned that we must be careful because we will definitely not be welcome by some.”

“That’s not surprising.  Boy, this is becoming quite a gothic mystery; complete with suspense and peril.  I’ll go call Grey now,” Blaze said.

He got up and stepped out onto the balcony to make his call.  Tracy got up and went into the kitchen to make some tea.  She was startled when Jen pushed through the door of the villa, her arms full of shopping bags.

Tracy turned to face Jennifer.  She was not happy with the way Jennifer had been acting but she needed to put those feelings aside and tell her what had happened.

“I’ve been shopping,” Jen announced as she set her bags on the sofa.

“So I see,” Tracy returned dryly.

Jen came into the kitchen and removed a bottle of water from the fridge.

“I see that Blaze is here.  Has he been waiting for me long?”  Jen asked without looking at her sister.

Tracy bristled.

“He came to see me.  I asked him to come,” Tracy said sharply.

“Why would you do that without going through me first,” Jen spat.

“Because he’s
my
boyfriend not yours,” Tracy snapped.  “Have you lost your mind, Jen?”

“I have just as much right to pursue him as you do.  You have no claim on him,” Jen whispered fiercely.

“Who do you think he came all the way to France to see?  You weren’t here, I was!  If he wanted to develop a relationship with you he could have stayed in Texas,” Tracy retorted loudly.

She couldn’t believe she was even having to explain this to Jen.

“Keep your voice down,” Jen ordered.

“I will not.  Blaze needs to hear the ridiculous things you’re touting,” Tracy replied in raised tones.  “You’ve created this fantasy that has no basis in reality.  You need to get a grip, Jen, and snap out of it.  This is not who you are.”

“Why you self-righteous, judgmental bitch!” Jen cursed.  “Who are
you
to psychoanalyze me?  You don’t—”

“What’s going on?”  Beth said drowsily as she padded barefoot into the kitchen.  “What are you two arguing about?”  Beth cringed before the words had even left her lips.  She knew exactly what they were arguing about.

“I’m trying to talk some sense into Jen.  She’s particularly dense at the moment,” Tracy said harshly.

Jen fumed.

“Not nearly as delusional as you are,” Jen snarled.

Tracy pulled her blouse off of her shoulder.

“These are not a figment of my imagination,” Tracy snapped as she showed off the love bites on her neck and shoulder.  “Ask Blaze how they got there.”