Guardian Girl (The Chronicles of Staffordshire) (29 page)

“Yes, John. I know precisely who this is. This radiant woman is Señorita Lenore De La Fuente, one of Harvard’s finest and - I suspect - your new ‘secret weapon'.” The mogul delicately grasped the elbow-gloved hand of the statuesque attorney. Holding Lenore’s eyes throughout, Rory bowed and kissed the back of her hand.

Lenore’s tanned cheeks brightened. Her stoic, guarded nature slipped. She felt warmth flow up from her hand, through her arm, across her chest, and onward throughout her body. Her toes tingled, an experience always saved for the Wild Child’s embrace. Lenore strained to maintain a façade of indifference as her heart melted under Rory’s thawing touch.

“You are not mistaken, Mr. St. Cloud. And… And it is my distinct pleasure to finally meet you, sir. I have heard many wonderful things about your agency and your charitable work!”

Lenore bowed slightly, maintaining regal posture in her form-fitting gown. Once again upright, she held Rory’s gaze. She did not offer her,
“I do this because it is what is expected of me,”
smile. Rather, it was a warming entreat, springing from a vulnerable and inviting place tucked safely behind her left breast.

The host watched light dance in his young associate’s eyes. Rory did not return Lenore’s smitten admiration, but Sizemore knew a proper match when he saw one. “Well, then,” said the senior partner, “I take it my work for the evening must be done! If you two don’t mind, I think I see Tommy Crispin over there working the wine tasting. I'd better get a handle on him before he consumes all the samples!”

Sizemore strolled away, peeking over his shoulder, watching each young executive wordlessly measure the other’s intent.

Lenore surrendered to the spirit of an infatuated schoolgirl, doing her best not to gawk at the chiseled Rugby regular. Turning back to the window, Rory lightly touched Lenore’s elbow, inviting her to join him as he marveled at the city’s beauty.

Every touch, no matter how insignificant, deepened Lenore’s affliction. Resistance was futile. Her thoughts drifted to seaside embraces and leisurely strolls through Central Park. With a man. With a man she only just met.

“Wild” Who?

They stood side-by-side in silence. Lenore tried to gaze out the window, but found herself glancing out of the corner of her eye at the side of Rory’s face. Even for the self-absorbed half of the Paulson sisters, there was no mistaking the drear of a shattered heart. Rory broke their wordless detente.

“This is a stunning city, isn’t it Señorita?”

“Please, Mr. St. Cloud… Call me Lenore.”

Rory smiled. “Then I must insist, Lenore, that you call me Rory.”

“Then… Rory… I completely agree. This is indeed a stunning city!”

They returned their gaze to the twinkling, concrete canyon.

Romantic scene or not, Lenore could not squelch her nosy instincts. “Rory, may I ask you a personal question?”

“Yes, Lenore. Please do.”

“You seem preoccupied. This party is full of interesting, beautiful people mingling and laughing, yet here you stand, perhaps the star attraction for every woman in the room, spending your time alone in thought, gazing out at the city. Is something bothering you?”

Rory sighed. “I’m sorry, Lenore. I didn’t mean to be a wet blanket. I suppose you are quite used to men chatting you up endlessly, aren’t you?”

She nodded. “My former career unfortunately precedes me. I am afraid my appearance works both for and against me. It opens every door and gains me entrance to events such as this, but it also makes me a target for sadly boorish behavior on occasion.”

A pause. A hesitation. A risk of familiarity floating in the wind. Lenore embraced the risk. “But I am not concerned for myself, Rory. I am concerned for you. It disturbs me to see you so consumed by what must be deeply troubling thoughts.”

“The irony of this evening is not lost on me, Lenore. Here I am with the most accomplished, most provocative woman in the room, yet my mind is elsewhere. I would not take offense if you chose to spend time with someone a little more loosened by the wine.”

The “irony” Lenore embraced was the way Rory delivered the mother of all compliments while breaching the morose depths of a prematurely gray heart. Lenore reached out her hand and slipped it through the crook in Rory’s arm, gently pulling herself to the side of her unexpected chaperone.

“Rory, what is on your heart is far more important to me than this event. I would rather stand in silence for hours with a person whose heart is burdened than to mingle for five minutes with people whose tongues are loosened by wine.”

Lenore lifted the shroud from Rory’s spirits. His heart felt lighter with Lenore at his side. He permitted himself a flattered smile.

“Would you care to talk to me about whatever it is that is bothering you Mr. St. Cloud? I mean… Rory.”

“Lenore, as long as you keep calling me Rory, I will gladly share my deepest secrets with you.”

Lenore experienced a vivid premonition. A colorful panorama flashed before her eyes, of a storybook landscape with hundreds of wedding guests seated along a stair stepped, sloping hillside. Dressed in a vivid white, strapless Shalamar wedding gown, Lenore paced down a white-carpeted aisle to a large, stone altar. A 20-piece orchestra swelled. Before her, Lena awaited Lenore’s arrival at the altar, standing in her appointed place, glowing and resplendent as Lenore’s maid of honor in a baby blue, off-the-shoulder, bridesmaid gown.

Rory, the tuxedoed groom in tails, smiled at her approach.

The image evaporated. Lenore shivered.

Lena sheltered and nurtured Lenore’s needy, evil soul for seven years. The Wild Child endured seduction upon seduction as Lenore selfishly supped on her roommate’s heart. Lenore wanted nobody but Lena throughout.

And yet… Lenore’s spirit soared next to Rory. She felt an immediate sense of permanence and belonging as she looked into his forlorn eyes. Rory unwittingly elbowed Lena to the side.

Lenore slogged through her turmoil, eager to erase Rory’s pain. “Rory… Please… Tell me what is on your mind.”

Rory fell into Lenore’s eyes. He misted. “Lenore… I don’t know why I’m here! I
shouldn’t
be here! I can’t believe I'm burdening you like this. You don’t even know me. I’m stealing your evening and dumping my problems on your shoulders. This is completely improper. I can’t do this to you.”

Rory attempted to pull away. Lenore pulled herself closer to his side, no longer caring about the appearance of her advance or the rumors it would fuel in gossip pages the next day.

“Rory… Before you worry about what you should or should not do, may I ask you one question?”

“Yes…?”

“Do you… Do you believe… In
fate
?”

Rory nodded and smiled. He felt it. He sensed what was happening. His heart was coming under new management. “Yes, Lenore. I suppose I do. Why do you ask?”

Lenore agonized, feeling unshakable attraction for the man with the tortured heart, yet not wishing to appear too forward. She chose, as she always did, to embrace instinct over intellect.

“I believe… I believe I was meant to be here for you, Rory. Do you feel it? Please tell me you feel it.”

Lenore held her breath, anticipating certain humiliation. Time passed in excruciating silence as Rory slaked his emptiness on Lenore’s mystical amber-brown eyes. He pulled Lenore closer.

“Yes, Lenore, I think I do feel what you feel. Don’t ask me to describe it, but yes… I think fate had something to do with us meeting at exactly this place and time.”

Lenore exhaled. “Then Rory, before you presume to choose what is a burden to me, why not share it? Let me be the judge of whether it is too great a burden to bear. I am a big girl. I promise, if you ask too much of me, I will throw off my shoes and race for the door.”

Lenore grinned hopefully at Rory, giving him permission to laugh at the image of the former runway model speeding away from the handsome, eligible billionaire. “Tell me, Rory. Please. No matter what it is. I am prepared.”

Rory released a slow, cleansing breath and spoke in a whisper. “Someone... Someone very dear to me… Has just passed away.”

Lenore clapped her free hand to her mouth, fighting tears. “Oh my God! Rory! I am so sorry! No wonder you seemed so sad when we met! Who? What happened?”

Rory turned again to the window, knowing that to stay with Lenore’s miring eyes would nudge him over the edge. “It was a woman I once loved. Once… Many years ago... I believed I would marry her.”

Lenore shook her head, struggling to put her dirt-mining instincts into a safely locked place. “Oh Rory… I… I am so sorry! I… I do not know what to say!”

A practical thought struck Lenore. Lena! It worked once with Lena! After Lenore promised Lena she would leave the tub, the Wild Child let loose.

“Rory… I want you to know something… I once told someone I love very much, someone who carried a burden I could not lift, that I would stay right by her side for as long as it took to help her find the peace she sought. I know you and I do not know each other… And I know you have no reason to trust me when I say this… But I am prepared to stay by your side for as long as it takes to help you feel peace. Will you please let me help you?”

Tears welled in Rory’s eyes. “Lenore, I can’t do this to you. I hear you and… I so appreciate what you’re saying, but I… I can’t do this to you. It feels too sudden. Too selfish.”

Lenore turned Rory to face her. She risked a too-familiar move, cradling Rory’s face in her palms and offering reassurance. “Rory St. Cloud… I am not leaving you like this, do you hear me? I am not leaving you until I know I have helped you face this… This tragedy. Do not shut me out because you fear inconveniencing me or do not know me. Beneath this façade I am nothing but a confused little girl playing dress up. I am no more prepared to deal with this than you are, Rory. But I believe fate brought me to you to share your pain. Let me help, Rory.
Please!”

Rory put his hands on either side of Lenore’s shoulders, gently running them up and down her sensuous, bare arms. She continued her gloved caress of his face. He closed his eyes and bowed his head.

“What was her name, Rory? Start there. Just tell me her name.”

Rory could no longer hold back his tears. He removed his hands from Lenore’s shoulders, took out a handkerchief, and blotted his eyes. “Lenore… Before we do this, is there somewhere else we might go? I really don’t want the rest of the party to see me like this.”

Rummaging through her options, Lenore chose a note of humor to flavor a richly practical solution. “Well… I do not think this is an appropriate time to say, ‘Your place or mine,’ but my apartment is only blocks from here. My roommate is home tonight, so it might be a safe place to go if a little extra company will help.”

“Oh, Lenore… I don’t want to burden
two
of you!”

“Rory, please trust me. Once you meet my roommate, you will not consider it a burden at all. Neither will she. My roommate is the most wonderfully loving and sensitive woman on the planet. We share everything in life. Every happiness… Every sorrow... Everything.”

“You mean she’s even more sensitive than
you
?”

“Oh, Rory… She
gives
me my sensitivity!” Lenore laughed.

“Are you certain, Lenore? Are you really prepared for this?”

Lenore placed her palm on Rory’s cheek, lightly stroking it as if they had been lovers for a lifetime twice over. “I assure you, Rory… I know
exactly
what I am doing.”

Lenore pulled her hand away, took her clutch from under her arm, and snapped it open, rummaging for her checkbook. “Come with me, Rory! I will write John a check and that ought to make our early exit a little more palatable. $10,000 should be sufficient.”

Rory gently pushed the checkbook back into the clutch. “Lenore… Don’t worry about the check. I’ll take care of John. The fact that he brought you to me tonight is well worth it for me to make his event a rousing success.”

“Well… Why don’t we
both
give him a check? That would be less of a burden on you, would it not?”

Rory laughed. “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

“I know you own a successful advertising agency. Why?”

“Oh Lenore…” Rory smiled and shook his head. “We have a lot to talk about on the way to your apartment.” Rory patted Lenore’s shoulder. “Wait here a moment. I’ll be right back.”

Rory left Lenore standing by the window and headed across the room toward John Sizemore, winding his way past woman after woman, all beautiful, all eager to divert his attention. He pursued his mission doggedly, nodding and smiling toward those calling his name while staying focused on reaching the host with as little distraction as possible.

From her post by the window, the budding jury consultant observed their conversation and body language. The tall advertising executive rested his hand on the shorter attorney’s shoulder and leaned into his ear. He spoke for several moments, whispering to the senior partner. Sizemore’s eyes widened, looking upward at the brand-maker, his mouth agape. Rory reached into his jacket and withdrew his checkbook.