She's Just Right (A Fairy Tale Romance) (28 page)

Tristan and Sir Owen moved forward to get a better look at the girl. “She does not look Scottish,” said Sir Owen. “But you never know. As weedy as your cattle are, perhaps she’s hidden the beasts behind her back?”

Kellen’s men laughed. Royce’s did not.

The girl raised a hand to her forehead as if dizzy, and Kellen froze. He couldn’t believe it when he saw the ring she wore. It looked to be the Corbett emblem. But that was impossible.

Kellen was off his horse in an instant. He quickly covered the ground between them, grabbed her arm and lifted her hand. She hit him in the chest with her free hand, but he barely noticed as he studied the ring.

There could be no doubt. The Corbett coat-of-arms, a raven in flight, glinted bright and clear in the sun. Kellen would know it anywhere, having endured Corbett’s insulting missives of excuse in past months, the raven seal always seeming to mock him.

He quickly looked about but saw no other knights, near or in the distance, only Royce’s. Could Corbett’s men be hiding? He turned to Sir Owen. “Search the trees.”

Had Corbett simply dumped her here? Was he afraid to face Kellen? Did he truly fear Kellen’s wrath enough to leave his daughter to make her own way to the castle? To leave her vulnerable to attack? It was cowardly and insulting to them both. Kellen had always respected the man in the past, but no more.

Kellen studied the girl’s face. She was lovely, with blue eyes exotically tilted at the corners and fringed with lashes as dark and thick as any he’d seen before. At least her features were nothing like those of her sister. She was even more beautiful, but in a completely different way. “Come.”

“Where are we going?” Her eyes widened when he tugged a blanket off his horse and wrapped her completely in it, noting the cut at her chest and knee, as well as the way her finger was bleeding as if someone had tried to steal the ring from her.

His anger raised a notch. She’d obviously been abused. It was yet to be determined to what extent. He grabbed her up and lifted her onto his horse before hoisting himself behind her.

“Do you have a phone I could use?”

Ignoring her strange request, he wondered if Royce’s men had arrived b efore she could make her way to the castle? Had they taken her clothes? Defiled her? He could feel his skin heating at the thought.

He turned to Royce. “If my betrothed has been injured in any way by you, or your men, you will pray for death before I am done. I vow it.”

In the stunned silence that followed, Kellen turned his horse toward the castle. He ignored Royce’s stammered protests that he’d only just come upon the girl and took comfort in the realization that they had all been seated on horses, and only she had been upon the ground. With a rising sense of protectiveness and satisfaction, he pressed her stiff body closer to his own. He would guard and defend what was his. And she was his. Indeed, he held his future in his arms.

 

Professor Sam Pierson stared at himself in the full-length mirror, realized his mouth hung open and snapped it shut. He cursed.
Loudly
. The tuxedo didn’t fit. Not only didn’t it fit, it clung to his body like a wet T-shirt on a co-ed, revealing every pound, bulge and lump he’d acquired in the three years since he’d last worn the suit. Great.

Grinding his teeth, he turned away from the reflection to pound on the master bathroom door. “Emily!” She didn’t respond and he tried the knob. Locked, of course. He pounded again. “Emily, my tux doesn’t fit! I can’t go to the party looking like this!”

The hair dryer started blasting full force behind the closed door and with a scowl, he jerked away, his head pounding. This was
her
fault. If she’d thought to rent him a tuxedo he wouldn’t be in this mess. He glanced at the glowing red numbers on the bedside clock. Seven-thirty. Too late to rent one himself.

Walking to the closet he frowned and flipped through his clothes. Perhaps he should wear a suit? Only the New Year’s Eve party was formal, and he’d stand out if he wasn’t properly dressed.

Taking a deep breath he felt the seams of his slacks strain and he grimaced. If he couldn’t breathe, how was he supposed to socialize? Eat? He glanced into the full length mirror again and swore. Maybe they should just stay home? No. That wasn’t an option. This was his only chance to talk to Jeff in a social setting and he couldn’t afford to miss it. He
had
to be there tonight. He shot a glare at the closed door.
They
had to be there.

Straightening, he sucked in his gut and peered down at his stomach. Perhaps if he eliminated some clothing? He quickly peeled off his slacks and removed his boxers. A moment later he tugged the slacks back on, and
very carefully
zipped them. He pulled in his gut again. Better. If he didn’t eat or sit, he could probably make it through the evening.

Anyway, who would notice the tightness of his clothes in a crowded room? It would be fine. He released his breath in a rush. It would have to be.

He jerked his arm and looked at his watch. They needed to leave.
Now
. He pounded on the bathroom door again.
"Emily, we’re late!"

The door opened and he stepped aside, glaring as Emily moved into the bedroom. Ignoring him, she walked to the closet and withdrew a pair of spike-heeled black shoes.

The scent of her peach body lotion wafted through the air and he inhaled, eyes still trailing her. She’d pulled her blonde hair up into one of those fancy styles, somehow pinning it into place on top of her head, leaving curls to dance invitingly around her cheeks and throat. He continued to stare as she bent over, his gaze drawn to the back of one knee revealed by the slit in the dress. He swallowed.

Finally, shoes on, she straightened, and her blue eyes wandered over his outfit. He tensed. "Well?"

Her lips smiled the fake smile. "You look nice." Her voice was bright, superficial. The voice she used with strangers. She glanced down at her dress. "What do you think?"

She looked wonderful, as always. The calf-length black dress showed off her slender, curvaceous figure, the stark color making her blonde hair bright, and her eyes a brilliant blue.

Ignoring her question, he buttoned his jacket. "You don't think it looks too tight on me?"

She sighed, turned and started to rifle through her jewelry box. "Do you have anything else to wear?"

He glared at her back. "No.”

She crossed to the dressing table mirror without looking at him, arched her neck to one side and slid a hoop-earring into place. "Then it's fine, isn't it?"

Sam smiled through gritted teeth. "It'll have to be,
won’t it
." His jaw ached. If he had a normal wife who took an interest in anyone other than herself, maybe he'd have something decent to wear tonight.

Lucky for her he wasn't like his father. No yelling or...well, he was a wonderful husband and it was about time she realized it and tried being a decent wife in return.

Sam assessed her dress again, trying to ignore his reaction to the body inside.
She
had something nice to wear. "You're not wearing
that
are you?"

Pivoting, her eyes measured him. "Yes. I am." She turned back to the mirror and bent over the dresser to check her make-up. She ignored him.

His jaw clenched. "When you bend over like that it makes your butt look fat."

Her back stiffened and she slowly straightened and turned, her face reddening. She was angry. Incredible. Emily showing emotion.

Muscles tight, he studied her, anticipation thrumming through his body. Her fists were clenched, ready to take him apart. About time. Lifting his chin, Sam savored the eagerness coursing through him. They needed a good fight. He was angry too. She was so indifferent to him. Perhaps now he'd get some sort of reaction instead of the incessant
no-one-home
stare. They could relieve the tension, get their marriage back on track, and start being intimate again.

She inhaled, opened her mouth, then paused.

He tensed. Come on. Say it. Something.
Anything!

She blinked, her expression smoothed, and she relaxed. The bland mask slipped back into place and her eyebrows rose. "Then I'd better not bend over."

Fingers digging into one thigh, his temples pounding, Sam held her gaze. When she turned away, he let out a harsh breath.

Couldn’t he do
anything
to get a reaction out of her? Say anything? What did she want from him?

Abruptly he jerked away to put his wallet in his back pocket. When it wouldn’t fit into his tight slacks, he shoved it inside his jacket.

Fine. If that was how she wanted it he’d go along with her.

For now. They didn’t have time to fight anyway. But eventually they needed to have it out. He glanced at the bed they used for sleeping. He couldn’t go on like this for much longer. Something had to change.

He noticed the time on the bedside clock. Seven forty. They’d never make it on time. "Come on. We need to leave. I told you I wanted to be there by eight o'clock."

She picked up a long rectangular bottle from off the dresser. "Why the big hurry? I thought the party didn’t even start until eight."

He watched as she sprayed perfume on her neck and wrists. He breathed in deeply, smelling the light, enticing fragrance. She’d worn this scent ever since he’d known her, and for some reason, right now, it reminded him of better times. Of when she’d loved him. When she used to
tell
him she loved him.

He pushed the thought away. Everyone went through bad times in their marriage. At present, he needed to focus his energy on getting tenure at the University. Emily needed to feel secure. Then life would be better. He hesitated, slipped his fingers into his front pockets, then pulled them out again when he realized it made the tuxedo look worse.

Maybe she wouldn’t be so cold toward him if she understood what was at stake tonight. He cleared his throat. "I want a chance to talk to Jeff Johansen alone."

He watched her. No reaction. Couldn’t she at least face him when he spoke to her? If she understood what he was trying to do for her he sighed. "Emily, I didn’t tell you this, but two weeks ago I gave Jeff my new history text book to read. I’m hoping to get a chance to talk to him alone.”

He glanced up at her, but she still didn’t look at him. “I’m hoping he’ll put in a good word about me to the board members.” He shrugged. “Perhaps it’ll influence the board’s decision about my application for tenure.”

When she lifted her head to stare at him, he shrugged. “You know how standoffish Jeff is. I figured, possibly, if I asked him for a recommendation in a social setting instead of at the University...then maybe he'd say yes.” He shrugged again and cleared his throat. "Anyway, it's worth a shot.”

Face blank, she nodded, then moved to walk out of the room.

Mouth falling open, Sam watched her go. He spills his soul, tells her his plans and...nothing! “
Hello
!” Sam’s fists clenched. “Did you hear what I said? You
do
want to stay in Utah, don’t you? You
do
want to continue to live near your mother, don’t you?”

She stopped in the doorway to glance back at him. “Did you want to talk about something?”

He made a sound of disgust. “Never mind. I just thought you’d be a
bit
more excited about my getting tenure.”

“That would be very nice for you.”

Nice for
him?
He watched as she walked out of the bedroom and headed for Jared’s room. Closing his eyes, he gritted his teeth, then followed.

Didn't she care about anything anymore? This was their future he was discussing.
Emily
was the one who wanted to live in Salt Lake City forever, and
Emily
was the one who wanted to stay in this house, and
Emily
was the one with a mother in the same city. How about a little enthusiasm! He brushed a hand over his face. What he wouldn’t give for ten extra minutes and a cigarette.

Following her down the hall, he heard her talking softly to Jared. "Sweetheart, I know you don't need a baby-sitter, but we probably won't be home until one o'clock or so. I'll feel better knowing you aren’t alone in the house, all right?”

"But Mom, I'm almost twelve. It's so dumb. If my friends knew I had to have someone over to baby-sit--"

Sam stepped into the room. The kid had no right to complain. Not after what he’d done. "And whose fault is that young man? If you could act like a responsible person rather than a hooligan then you wouldn't need a babysitter, would you? After what happened, you're lucky a babysitter and forty hours of community service are all you have coming.”