Love Entwined (8 page)

He glanced behind him as a car approached. Its headlights stretched his shadow across the parking garage floor. The car did not slow down as he walked across the garage.

Is the idiot late for a meeting?

He turned for a closer look at the driver but could not see anything through the dark tint of the Mercedes’ windows.

He picked up his pace toward the elevator up to the penthouse.

The car sped up and was coming straight at him.

“Bloody hell!” He lunged to the side, and fell against a parked car.

The Mercedes swerved toward him as he leaped onto the hood of the parked car. It smashed into the front end of the car that he crouched on and he was thrown over the side, onto the hood of a second car.

He hung onto the car’s hood just as the Mercedes rammed the crushed front end of the first car in an attempt to throw him to the ground.

He lost his hold on the hood and fell over the side, between the second car and a third. Scrambling to his feet, he jumped out from between the two cars.

The driver tried again, ramming into the first car once more, but Roman managed to clear the wreck.

“Come on, you bastard.” He stalked around the damaged cars toward his attacker.

With a cement column between him and the Mercedes, the driver could not make another go of it. The car sped away in a squeal of rubber.

Roman ran out into the lane but the Mercedes had already turned the corner on its way down toward the parking garage exit. He couldn’t see a plate number.

He retrieved his crushed briefcase from where he had been standing when the Mercedes came after him.

First, the warehouse fire in Germany, then the bullet in the dell, and now this. He had no known enemies other than his competitors. It was time to run a check on the Garamondes.

With his jacket torn and his elbow scraped raw where he’d landed on it, he took the elevator to the penthouse suite. He began what turned out to be a harrowing day with the authorities for him and the two unfortunate owners of the parked cars, both of which were totaled.

North Yorkshire, England – March 1988

“It is good you have come.”

Amelie turned at the soft French and squinted up at the woman. She was standing directly behind Amelie but the sun was just at the right angle to obscure her face. Auburn locks waved in the breeze.

She shaded her eyes with a hand, to no avail. “
Bonjour
. I am sorry, but I don’t know your name.” She waited, firming her lip in growing impatience in the silence. There was something that bothered her about this French maid, who did not act as a maid should.

She stood up clutching her sketch of Zeus with the stone bench between them. She still could not see the woman’s features clearly. The sun appeared even brighter than before so that she could not look directly at the woman. “Do you live here? With Roman?”

“This is my home.”

“I see.”

Bells tinkled on the breeze.

Amelie turned back toward the statue of Zeus. Below the gardens, near the River Wharfe, two white horses galloped.

“They are beautiful,” she whispered.

“It is almost time.”

“Time for what?” She could not take her eyes off the Arabians. She’d never seen anything so beautiful. Bells hung from their tassels as they sped by in fluid motion.

“They have been in your midst for some time, Amelie, waiting for the perfect opportunity.”

The horses jumped across an embankment in unison, never breaking their stride, so lovely…

“They know who you are. They remember.”

“Yes, they remember…” Amelie murmured. The sound of the horse’s hooves pounded through her…

“You will remember.” The woman’s French was so insistent it blocked out the sound of the horse’s hooves in her head.

She shook her head slowly. “I don’t. I can’t…”

“Your precious life depends on it,
ma chérie
. Remember, Amelie.”

A tray clattered onto the stone bench behind her, and she dropped her sketchpad.

“I didn’t mean to startle you, Miss Amelie,” Caroline said. “Tea.”

“Oh. It’s all right. Thank you.” She looked behind Caroline toward the row of hedges leading out of the garden maze. There was no one on the path.

“You’re as white as a sheet. Are you well?”

She picked up the sketchpad and set it down on the bench. “I’m fine. I just need to sit for a moment,” she said, looking down at the River Wharfe. She could not hear the bells anymore, and the Arabians were gone. “Caroline, did you see anyone on the path?”

“The landscaper. Is he disturbing you?”

She followed Caroline’s gaze up to a figure in the distance. The worker was trimming hedges. “No, not at all.”

“Another maid, perhaps?”

“Jilly is polishing silverware and if I know her it will take all day.” Caroline harrumphed. “Do you sketch everything, Miss Amelie?”

“Just about.” She took a deep breath, looked up at the statue of Zeus and back down to her sketchpad. She smudged the charcoal end of his jaw on the sketchpad with her finger.

Caroline peered over her shoulder. “What beautiful horses.”

Amelie stared down at the sketch. “Arabians,” she murmured. Just behind the statue of Zeus in the distance, their long manes flew on the sketchpad. They were drawn proud and beautiful, and not by her hand. Tinkling bells made her look toward the River Wharfe once again. She looked around for the woman who apparently refused to speak with anyone but her.

Caroline was looking at her strangely and shifted on her feet. “The Old Garden rose bushes closer to the house have the most beautiful Albas you have ever seen.”

“I like it here.” She followed Zeus’s gaze out over the River Wharfe. “Couldn’t find me?”

“Oh, it’s not that. I wouldn’t want you to get lost.”

She chuckled. “I’d have an easier time finding my way around out here than in the manor.”

“It’s just that this shooting makes me wonder if what happened six months ago was an accident.”

She glanced at Caroline. “What happened six months ago?”

“I shouldn’t have mentioned it.” Caroline started to walk away.

Oh, no you don’t.

“Caroline, wait.” She moved her charcoals off the stone bench. “I would really like some company.”

Caroline looked back up the stone path at the landscaper.

“It is either you or him. Won’t you stay for a while?” She gestured to the half dozen sweet rolls on the tray. “You can help me eat all of this.”

Caroline sat down and reached for a danish. “Maybe just a few minutes.” She took so long to swallow the bit of pastry in her mouth that Amelie feared she had lost her nerve and would defect.

Finally, Caroline spoke. “Master Cardiff doesn’t like gossip. He would be very angry with me if he found out I told you, Miss Amelie.”

“Told me what?”

“About the hunting accident.”

She put her teacup down. “Another hunting accident? Well, that’s not gossip. That’s a fact, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I suppose.”

Amelie picked up a scone. “You were saying?”

“It was Master Cardiff’s annual hunt. They come from miles around to attend. It’s a tradition. No one realized she was missing until after luncheon when her mount came back without her.”

“Who was missing?”

“Master Cardiff’s girlfriend. They found her under the bridge.” Caroline stopped to pick up a scone. Before she could get it to her mouth and start that incessant chewing again, Amelie held her arm.

“Was she all right?”

“Dead as they come. Shot in the head.”

She choked on her mouthful of scone. “What a terrible thing to happen. Where was Mr. Cardiff when this happened?”

“Hunting, I imagine. The police were already here by the time he returned to the manor. It was ruled a stray shot, an accident.”

She stared out at the River Wharfe. “Poor Roman. Was this…her home?”

“Here? With Master Cardiff? Oh, no,” Caroline chuckled, flicking a crumb off her black starched linen. “It was a bad time for all of us. Her parents went straight to the press, don’t you know.”

There was an excruciating moment of silence while Caroline sipped her tea.

Deciding Caroline had had enough sips, Amelie prompted her. “Why would they do that?”

“She’d been hoping for a marriage proposal. Imagine that.” Caroline grinned, shaking her head at the thought. “Master Cardiff is not the marrying kind. Her parents claimed she had come that weekend to change his mind. She’d told them she was in the family way.”

“When she could not change his mind, they think he…” Amelie could not finish. To say she had been thrown for a loop with Caroline’s story was an understatement. She did not know Roman well enough to pass judgment, but suppose the heir who was not the marrying kind had believed his girlfriend pregnant?

Caroline waved her hand in dismissal. “It is complete nonsense. Master Cardiff would have done right by her if she’d told him the truth.”

“The truth? Are you saying she was really pregnant?”

“The autopsy confirmed it. Master Cardiff was behind closed doors with the barristers for weeks after that. When it was over, he wanted to kill someone. But he could hardly blame all and sundry; at least a hundred people attended the hunting party that weekend.” Caroline reached for another scone.

North Yorkshire, England – March 1988

When Roman returned to North Yorkshire a few days later, he could not face Amelie. He sat fuming in his study. He had found his answers in London, but they had only presented more questions.

Sources confirmed Michel Garamonde, the owner of Bijou, and would-be arsonist and killer, had suffered a massive heart attack several weeks ago. The old man was comatose with round-the-clock medical attention at his compound in the Swiss Alps.

Perhaps his bedridden rival was blameless, but Garamonde’s son Emil had taken over operations. It seemed the son had also taken up his father’s promised vengeance for last year’s marketing debacle.

Roman knew of him. They passed through the same circles, managing to keep their distance from each other. Emil’s ego was second only to his father’s. Though Emil preferred gambling in Monte Carlo, he put in an appearance now and then with Bijou’s executive team in Paris. It was on one of those occasions that the Frenchman met and hired Amelie to work on the Artisan collection. She had come highly recommended and had already completed several small assignments for Bijou. At the time, she had not yet adopted her all work and no play policy. Amelie and Emil had been lovers six months ago.

She factored into the equation with his would-be assassin. He couldn’t ignore the fact that the incidents had started upon her arrival in England.

The thought of Amelie involved with that arrogant bastard was a major contribution to his mood. He should not care that she was in all likelihood a partner to these crimes, stealing the Cardiff designs and engineering his demise. She was just another resourceful beauty who had found a shortcut that would catapult her rising star all the way to the top.

He should be gratified she was under his roof where he could watch her. But all he felt was the urge to commit murder.

The background check confirmed the link to her ambitious beau. She had been seen on Emil’s arm at several industry functions. Her parents were exactly who she claimed they were. She had indeed graduated from the Sorbonne, though she had not mentioned it was with honors. Emil had handpicked his creative partner for this mission.

While he was angry with himself for wanting more time with Amelie before exposing her, he took great satisfaction in setting in motion his plans for Emil Garamonde. He spent the morning on a conference call with Dylan spelling out how to make the Garamondes remember whom they were dealing with. The German plant’s timetable was moved up to the end of the month. Re-opening the facility with the latest equipment would send all of Bijou’s customers his way.

But he would not stop there. He would also recruit Emil’s workers from various facilities with competitive wages the Frenchman could not match even if he stopped whoring and gambling away his inheritance. And that was only the beginning.

James and Lyle his groundskeeper came to the study door with the security advisor, Chief Bryant.

“Sir, we have a cabin broken into not a mile from the brook where the shooter made his attempt. They used one of your rifles,” Lyle said.

Roman turned to Chief Bryant. “Any fingerprints?”

Bryant shook his head. “None. Whoever it was knows your layout here. They disabled the cameras at the front gate and waited for the changing of the guards.”

“But they did not come in that way,” Lyle added. “There’s a track of fence down the road been cut near that wooded glen. Found a few deer wandering around on the road.”

That was where he had taken Amelie on a tour of the land. But she could not have known he would take her to the secluded valley. Maybe she had someone follow them.

Roman glanced at Lyle. “Ellsworth see anyone?”

“No sir, the intruder was long gone by the time he returned to post.”

Bryant handed him the report. “It is too early to tell about the London incident, but we are checking surveillance of the garage.”

“We’ll talk soon, Bryant,” Roman said.

When the security chief left, Roman turned to James. “How is Ms. Laurent?”

“Quiet as a mouse, sir. She spends her days in the drafting room. Caroline saw her at the pool a few nights.”

“She hasn’t wandered around yet?”

“I think she’s afraid of getting lost.” James grinned.

Roman flipped through Bryant’s report. “Yes, there is that.”

“I have kept security away from her as a precaution,” James said.

“Good. I don’t want her to feel like a prisoner. It is better that she move about unrestricted. I want to see what she does with her free time.”

“I’ll tell the London office that you won’t be in while things get sorted out,” James said.

“I can’t take off now, not with the launch of the new line. Why, I’m still not finished with the grunt work. There are contract revisions, new hires, tell them I will be in as planned next week.”