Secrets Gone South (Crimson Romance) (12 page)

It was only one room, but it was utterly charming and totally romantic in a rustic sort of way, with exposed beams, colorful braided rugs, and a soft blue upholstered love seat in front of the small stone fireplace. Of course, all this was dominated by a queen size square poster bed piled high with patchwork quilts and pillows. It was after all, the Bridal Perch.

“This is wonderful,” Arabelle said. “How did my parents manage this on such short notice?”

Kitty laughed. “We worked it out.”

Of course. People always worked things out for Senator Avery.

Kitty began moving around the room, pointing out chilled champagne, coffee and hot chocolate fixings, a cheese and fruit assortment in the small refrigerator, and the tiny but serviceable bathroom.

“And look at this,” she said proudly. She pushed a button and a large ceiling shade folded back to expose a skylight above the bed. “You’ll feel like you really are sleeping in the trees. You might get lucky and see some stars if the clouds move out.”

“Wow.” Will whispered the word with such awe that both women turned to look at him. One look told Arabelle that, if such a feminine word could be applied to such a masculine man, he was enchanted. He ran his hand over the wall reverently and touched the stone mantelpiece. “You have others?” he asked. “Are there bigger ones? For a family?”

He wanted to bring Avery here—probably without her.

Kitty nodded. “We do. Mocking Bird’s Nest has two rooms, one with bunk beds. And Rock-a-Bye Baby is one room with an alcove and a crib that converts to a toddler bed.”

He nodded, clearly already making plans.

Finally, Kitty gave them breakfast menus and promised to bring their dinner back at seven—veal scaloppini for Arabelle and vegetarian lasagna for Will.

“Just fill in what you’d like for breakfast and when you want it. We’ll pick up your order when we bring your dinner.”

When Kitty had gone, Will threw another log on the fire, though it didn’t need it. Then, just it case the flames might not threaten to escape the confines of firebox, he poked at it. She sank down on the sofa. “Too bad we don’t have marshmallows.”

“Really?” His head shot up. “I’ll bet Kitty has some. I’ll catch her.”

He was already halfway out the door.

“No, Will. Don’t. I was making a joke. I don’t want marshmallows.” He was willing to chase Kitty down for something that didn’t matter. That was nice but she couldn’t let him go out in the cold.

“Oh.” He looked disappointed. Had he really wanted to do something to please her so much? Or did he want to escape?

She would give him an out. “So unless you want some … ”

“No. I don’t eat marshmallows.”

“No?”

“They’re made of gelatin and gelatin is made of—well, you don’t want to know. Never mind.” He walked around, inspecting corners and rattling the windows. “Hmm. Solid.” She couldn’t tell if he was talking to her or himself. He ran his hand down the post of the bed. Maybe he was thinking about taking her there. “Mass produced but not bad. Pretty good, in fact. Considering.” So not thinking about her at all. Just being a furniture snob. He opened the bedside table drawer but quickly lost interest in the construction of the piece. “Hey!” He pulled out a brochure. “It’s a map of the grounds.”

He looked it over and walked over to the window. “Hey, Arabelle. Do you want to go for a walk before it gets dark?”

“No, thank you.” Unlike him, she was not dressed for a trek through the woods. In her cashmere sweater, good wool pants, and Ferragamo flats, she was dressed for ascending a flight of carpeted stairs in an upscale B&B and going out to dinner.

He looked back at the brochure—wistfully.

“You want to look at the rest of the tree houses, don’t you?” she asked, trying not to be offended that he was more interested in tree houses than in consummating their marriage. What had she expected?

“I do.” He nodded gravely. “I really, really do. Wouldn’t you like to see them?”

“Whether I would or wouldn’t isn’t a factor. I’m not dressed for it. More than that, my shoes are thin soled.”

“You didn’t bring boots?” He apparently could not imagine a world where sturdy hiking boots were not mandatory.

“I don’t have boots. At least not like you’re thinking of.”

“Okay.” He walked around some more and looked out the other window.

“Why don’t you go?” she asked.

“Really? You don’t mind?”

In fact, she did mind. No matter what the circumstances, no matter that this was a mess of her own making, she was a bride and she wanted to be treated like one.

“I don’t mind at all,” she said. “I’ll be fine right here.” Because, really, where else could she be?

After he closed the door behind him, she reached for her phone. Wouldn’t hurt to check in.

Her mother answered on the first ring. “Arabelle! What are you doing calling on your wedding night?” Gail laughed. “Maybe I should have had that little talk with you.” So now, that she was married, they were going to allude to sex, were they?

She wasn’t playing. “It’s not night yet. I wanted to check on Avery.”

“He’s fine. Happy as can be. So are you there yet?”

“Yes. Safe and sound.” Then she remembered that her mother would be looking for a reaction. “It’s lovely. Thank you so much for arranging it.” “Isn’t it wonderful? Your father and I saw it on a little jaunt sponsored by the Southeast Tourism Society. We were trying to think of something really special and we thought that Will would adore it.”

Well, of course. She should have seen right away that the tree house had been chosen for Will—the paragon who had married their single daughter and took her child as his own, who would abstain from liquor, drive a big truck, and fight off werewolves with a pitchfork if necessary.

Perhaps they could get his picture on a postage stamp.

“I can assure you he is thrilled with it.” She couldn’t help but wonder if anyone would ever again care what would please her. “Mother, will you let me speak to Avery?”

“Certainly. The men are building a fort with them in the living room. Avery!” she said. “Avery? Darling? Your mama wants to say hi.” It sounded like a whole kindergarten class was there. “Avery, come to Grandma. Mama wants to say hi.” More toddler squeals and child voices. No Avery. Finally, Gail said, “Arabelle, I’m sorry. He’s just too distracted. The Braggs are here so Beau and Lulu are in the mix. I could make him come with me but—”

“No, no. Don’t do that. Let him play. I’ll call later.”

“Arabelle. This is your wedding night. I raised you and Luke without incident. We’ve got this. Honey, start your new life with your sweet new husband tonight. You’ll see Avery tomorrow.”

Not talk to Avery tonight? Unthinkable! “But—”

“Arabelle, we are so proud of you. I don’t say it enough but I thought it all week. The last few years have been so hard for you. The measure of a woman is taken in hard times and believe me, you measure up. You have no idea.” Oh, she had an idea all right. It was everyone else who had the wrong measuring stick. “Now, go be with Will. I’ll call if the least little thing goes wrong. I promise.”

What if she said she couldn’t go be with Will because he was looking at tree houses? And that he didn’t really want to be with her?

What if? But she couldn’t. “Thank you, Mother. I love you. Tell Daddy.”

“I will. And we’ll see you tomorrow.”

And she hung up! Her mother hung up on her without saying goodbye!

It was getting hot in here, thanks to the fire that had not been quite fiery enough to meet Paul Bunyan’s standards. She got up and moved away from the flames—though there was nowhere else to sit except the bed. There wouldn’t be. Where else would inhabitants of a place named the Bride’s Perch want to be, apart from the bed or the loveseat, cuddled together?

She fanned herself. Damn that mile-high blazing inferno—though being swathed from head to toe in wool was no help. She should change but, besides nightclothes, she only had one clean outfit for the trip home—a cotton sweater and corduroy pants, which wouldn’t be much cooler.

That brought her back to the nightclothes. Might as well. It was almost dark and they weren’t going anywhere. When she’d packed she hadn’t known what was going to happen, hadn’t even known how she felt about it, so she had hidden the sexy nightgown Lucy had given her in the bottom of her bag—just in case. It was clear that
just in case
wasn’t going to happen but no matter. She had also packed one of the long flannel gowns that she had practically lived in during the late stages of her pregnancy in Switzerland. Something lighter would be preferable but at least it was cotton and one layer.

She unzipped the bag. Damn. She had brought the prettiest one—the blue with pin tucks and embroidered lace at the wrists and neck. Too bad she hadn’t brought the one with cartoon skiers. That’s what he deserved. She removed her clothes and slipped the gown over her bra and panties as quickly as she could so he wouldn’t catch her half dressed. Not that he would be back this soon anyway. He was probably climbing trees and knocking on doors. It wouldn’t be good enough for him to see the outside of the tree houses. She laid out her toiletries in the bathroom and neatly folded her clothes and put them in her bag.

Somewhat cooler, she had just settled back down on the loveseat with the latest copy of
American Family Physician
when she heard Will approach. And he was talking to someone. Dear Lord. Here she was in her nightgown and he was bringing company!

She was about to bolt for the bathroom when the door opened. Not company, after all. He was on the phone.

“Yeah?” he said gently. “You and Jiffy be good boys and mind Grandma and Grandpa and Aunt La—what?” He took the phone away from his ear for a second and gave it a puzzled look.

He was talking to Avery! Who had let him talk to Avery? Maybe he’d bought him a secret cell phone that only called Daddy. She jumped to her feet and held out her hand for the phone.

Will gave her a little wave and put the phone back to his ear. “Just threw the phone, huh? I guess he was through.” He laughed “Well, I should go, too. Thank you again for everything. It’s great here. Yes. Yes, sir. I’ll tell her.”

He smiled like everything in the universe was right. And wasn’t it? He had talked to Avery, when she hadn’t been allowed.

“You look cute.” Figured. He was the flannel type. “Your dad sends his love. Said to tell you that you looked beautiful today. Which you did.”

“Daddy called you? And you talked to Avery?”

“I called him to say thank you for everything and he put Avery on, though he didn’t last long. Not the phone type, I guess.” He poked the fire. “It’s cold out. Still snowing. I might make some coffee. Do you want some? Or hot chocolate?”

“Uh, no.”

“Oh, I brought you something.” He reached into his pocket and handed her a smooth white stone. “See?” He turned it in her palm. “It’s almost a heart.”

And it was—but only almost. If the top right part had been a little rounder, it would have been perfect.

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome.” He held her gaze for a second and put his hands together in a little clap. “You had a good idea, getting comfortable. I think I’ll do the same.”

He swung his duffel onto the bed and, with no modesty whatsoever, stripped down to his boxers right in front of her, talking all the while about the tree houses, how they were all different. He didn’t really know all the architectural styles, but one was Victorian and another looked like a castle. On and on, he went, pulling green plaid flannel sleep pants over his muscled legs until they sat low on his slim hips.

“I really need to get Brantley up here.” He paused bare-chested and she wondered if he was going to put on a shirt.

“Why?” she asked to distract herself from his broad shoulders and that tiny column of dark hair that trailed down his stomach into more interesting places.

“I can build a tree house. I can even design what I want—more or less. But I wouldn’t know how to structure it so it would be safe. I need him to draw the plans.”

“You’re going to build a tree house?” Why was she not surprised?

“Well, yeah!” he said like she had asked if he planned to breathe later tonight.

Finally, he pulled a t-shirt over his head and pushed his hair back. The shirt was tight and the short sleeves did little to conceal his powerful arms.

“I’m in no real hurry.” He dropped a pod in the coffee maker and put a pottery mug under the spigot. “It’ll be a while before Avery is big enough but wouldn’t it be great for when he’s older? I could maybe even put a catwalk from his window to the door.”

The horror of the image of Avery skipping gleefully fifty feet in the air was almost impossible to hide but she managed.

“I don’t think so,” she said. “He might fall. And I don’t like the thought of him having his very own little private den of iniquity.”

“Ah, where’s your sense of adventure?” He held up his mug. “Sure you don’t want one?” He shuffled through the basket of pods. “There’s tea. Cider. Chai—whatever that is.”

“Nothing for me, thank you.”

Then he came over, poked at the fire again, and settled down on the other end of the love seat like he belonged there. If ever there was a man high on his surroundings, it was this one. And his surroundings suited him. He stretched out and propped his long legs on the coffee table, crossing them at the ankles. He looked like an ad for an upscale outdoors catalog.

“You’ll change your mind about the tree house,” he said. “It’ll be big. We can all sleep out there.” Oh, yes. He’d be king of his castle suspended high in the sky, held there by limbs, luck, and magic. Avery would be the prince and she’d be the lady who gave out spinach and made dental appointments.

Will inclined his head toward her and smiled. “You’ll like it so much you won’t want to leave it. I’ll put you in a little doctor’s office and you can see patients there.”

“That’s a thought. Not a good one but a thought.”

He laughed like she’d made a real joke. She drew her legs up under her.

He sat up and put his mug on the table. “Look, Arabelle,” he said seriously and put his hand on her shoulder. “I know I’ve been a real bastard to you.”