The Butler's Daughter (10 page)

Juliana tugged on his hand as if to pull him down the path. Hunter finally snapped out of his state. “Not so fast. I believe that tradition demands you be carried over the threshold.” With one quick, effortless movement he lifted her into his arms.

She squealed, then laughed as he pulled her soft, enticing body snugly to his chest. Hunter steeled himself against the erotic sweetness of her curves and the silken feel of her legs hooked over his arm. A wry smile creased his lips as Juliana wrapped one arm around his neck.

Purgatory, plain and simple.

He'd deposit her in his bedroom and sneak into his study. The servants would never know.

He started down the path. “This is quite an amazing feat you've wrought. The violets are a nice touch.”

“I thought you'd like them. Very woodsy. In the language of flowers, they stand for faithfulness.”

He pondered the potential significance of that revelation. “What do the white roses stand for?”

“Girlhood and an innocent heart.”

He paused midstep. “And I'm trampling them? How intimidating.”

“You, intimidated? I don't believe it.” Juliana laughed again.

Hunter, despite the tension and the confusion cording through his muscles, found himself enjoying the sound of her laughter. In fact, enjoying the intimate feel of her in his arms and the faerie-glow of the lights in the trees that reminded him of the dance of lightning bugs on a warm summer's evening. For the first time, he wondered if Juliana would be happy on FairIsle. Would she hate the isolation of his island home or grow to love the beauty of it as he did? He hugged her to him more tightly and continued down the hallway. “Believe it, Cinderella. I don't want to trample you.”

Her elegant jaw jutted up and her eyes darkened dangerously as she tilted her head back to look squarely up at him.

“I'm neither innocent, nor a girl. I'm a grown woman,” she said, sounding piqued. “I know full well what I'm getting into. You can put me down now. Valentina and Marquise are in the kitchen with Cort. No one is looking.”

Hunter shook his head. “Not until I carry you over the threshold.” In fact, he was battling a not unwelcome desire to brush his lips along her hairline and whisper in her sexy
little ear that he was completely aware she was a grown woman.

A beautiful, enticing woman.

Just what did she have waiting for him in his bedroom?

Juliana settled back in his arms and Hunter couldn't tell whether she was pleased or annoyed. But he could feel a new tension stiffening her body.

The sound of trickling water and the raucous caw of a crow reached his ears before he crossed the threshold, but it in no way prepared him for the sight which met his eyes. Juliana had turned his bedroom into something out of a dream. Trees ringed the walls creating a clearing, in the middle of which was a white silk tent covering his bed. Burning candles had been artistically placed among a pile of logs to resemble a campfire. And the water fountain positioned beside the tent, he presumed, was a babbling brook. A picnic of delicacies—including champagne on ice—was laid out on a table draped with a red-checkered cloth. And when he listened carefully, he could hear the sounds of a forest—the soft sighing of wind in the trees and the twittering of birds.

A smug smile played at Juliana's lips. “This is my idea of camping.”

Hunter was speechless. She'd recreated their fictitious first meeting in the Black Forest! But all he could picture was her lying naked in his bed with all that white silk billowing around her, waiting for him. He set her down more abruptly than he'd intended, reminding himself brusquely that he had work to do. Stacks of information to read. A killer to find.

Ross would haunt him until the end of his days if he touched Juliana. Hurt her in any way. Her father would probably kill him.

He drew a deep ragged breath and flexed his fingers to
release some of the tension strung taut in his body. He needed a drink. Something strong enough to knock some sense into him.

He gestured at the room, searching for words and finding himself at a total loss. She'd done a spectacular job of making their wedding day convincing and romantic. Anyone would think they were madly in love.

He darted an anxious glance at Juliana, who stood hands clasped in front of her and was obediently awaiting some sign from him. But there was a hint of amusement lurking in her rich mahogany eyes. In his years as The Guardian he'd dealt with stalkers, kidnappers, extortionists and cold-blooded killers, and none of them had brought the high level of fear to his heart that his new wife suddenly had with this honeymoon surprise.

He'd never been in love. Love was a two-sided coin that brought bliss and pain and Hunter would just as soon not have either.

But he was acutely aware that his marriage to Juliana necessitated making some changes to his schedule and his habits. This was only the first of many awkward moments he and Juliana would encounter as man and wife and the way he handled the enforced intimacy of their wedding day would set the standard for dealing with other such moments.

“You…I can see I'm going to have to educate you about camping. But it will do.” He extended his hand to her and felt his pulse leap like a fireball into his palm, anticipating her touch. “Would you do me the honor of sharing this picnic feast? I have work to do, but it can wait until after we've eaten.”

She placed her fingers lightly on his palm and a shudder of need coursed up Hunter's arm like a salmon battling its way upstream.

“It would be my pleasure.” A frown crinkled her brow. “Is there something I can do to help you with the investigation? Notes I can take or papers I can file?” She flushed delicately. “Marquise and Valentina will expect us to be occupied for hours. You haven't mentioned whether you've heard anything more from Investigator Bradshaw since our meeting with him yesterday.”

Hunter held out a chair for her, his mind more fixated on the hem of her dress creeping up her silken thigh than her question. She bent down, placing her ivory satin purse on the floor and granting him a glimpse of round, firm breasts.

Sweat moistened his brow. Hunter worked his tie loose with a tug of his finger, then removed his jacket before he sat down. But he didn't feel any more comfortable.

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the damn bottle of champagne. “Bradshaw's added Sable Holden and Phillip Ballard to his suspect list,” he struggled to say in a reasonable tone. As he worked the cork out of the bottle, he told her that the takeover of Sable Holden's chain of office supply stores had taken place six months prior to Ross and Lexi's wedding and that Ballard's communications equipment company succumbed to Ross three months before Cort's birth.

Juliana leaned forward across the table, holding out her champagne flute. “So what you're saying is that theoretically Sable could have orchestrated both Riana's abduction and the bombing. But not Ballard.”

Hunter filled her glass, watching the champagne bubbles jettison up to the surface much like the emotions he was trying to contain. “No, Ballard couldn't have done both. He wasn't in the picture when Riana was abducted. But he may have hoped that the circumstances of Riana's abduction would muddy the police investigation into the bombing
and throw the police off track. He's a brilliant man. Went to MIT. His company's success is primarily due to his leadership, which is why Ross probably wanted him and the company.”

He filled his own glass. “But Sable Holden and Phillip Ballard aren't the only suspects. I've been digging into the backgrounds of the senior executives in Ross's corporation. I didn't find much on Paulo Tardioli, the general counsel. But Kendrick Dwyer's had health problems the last two years. I spoke to Ross's personal secretary yesterday afternoon. She told me Ross had expressed concern about Dwyer's health and was thinking about making some changes, but she didn't know what types of changes. But she did say that Ross had had a number of tense private meetings with David Younge lately.”

“Well, David's the controller. Maybe Ross was thinking he would be the logical choice to step up and replace Kendrick Dwyer as the senior vice president and chief financial officer,” Juliana suggested.

“And maybe not. Maybe Ross was preparing Younge for the possibility that he was going to offer the job to someone else—like Paulo Tardioli or Simon Findlay. Tardioli's a lawyer. He has guts like Ross did.”

Hunter raised his glass to Juliana and felt his heart knot as her eyes became dark guarded pools. Those eyes were a trap that would ensnare him if he wasn't careful. “To Ross and Lexi. May their love for one another guide us in raising their son.”

A tear rolled silently down Juliana's smooth cheek. He reached across the table and gripped her hand, which bore his ring, as his own emotions threatened to swamp him with guilt and grief.

Juliana smiled at him through her tears and raised her glass. “To Ross and Lexi.”

And Hunter came undone. For four days he'd been stoically dealing with horror and anger, determined to help the police find Ross and Lexi's killer. Determined to protect their son at all costs. Trying so damn hard not to think about how much he would miss Ross.

He'd loved him like a brother. They'd kidded each other, swapped tales of their business and personal conquests, and he'd used every tactic he could think of to help Ross hold it together after Riana's abduction. A sob hit him so deep in the chest it felt as if he'd cracked a rib. Champagne spilled over the rim of his glass as he set it on the table with a thump.

Tomorrow he would bury his best friend.

Juliana saw Hunter's face contort with pain and heard the harsh agonized sob break from him as his fingers tightened almost unbearably over her hand. Without thinking or realizing how it happened she was kneeling beside him, holding him. Her face was pressed into the hard fortress of his chest as another sob shook his powerful body. A hot flow of tears broke in Juliana's throat. “Oh, Hunter.”

Her fingers threaded through his short hair as she sought to offer him comfort, stroking his head and shoulders. Murmuring words of reassurance.

And then she felt it. A kiss, warm and firm, pressed on the crown of her head.

Then another one on her temple.

A frisson of alarm worked from her heart to her soul as Hunter's fingers sought her throat, his thumbs tipping her chin back, forcing her to look up at him.

She searched his face for some sign of apology or explanation, but saw only the stark pain in his eyes and the wet traces of his tears on the tight planes of his face. Hunter Sinclair was an extraordinary man. But who comforted The Guardian when he needed it?

She couldn't stand the thought of him bearing his pain alone.

Her mouth went dry as dust as Hunter's azure gaze locked on her lips. A trail of blistering heat unfurled down to her stomach. Slowly, deliberately, as if he were debating the decision every fraction of an inch, his mouth descended toward hers. His nose touched hers and stilled; Juliana felt the moisture of his tears lubricating his skin.

Her heart crumbled, compassion for his emotional struggle rising in her, overwhelming and unstoppable.

His warm breath bathed her cheek. Her nipples peaked to aching points against the bodice of her dress. The muscles of his shoulders were iron-hard beneath the fabric of his fine cotton shirt. Every cell in her body craved his kiss as she stared helplessly into his eyes, but she couldn't bring herself to break the protocols that had been drummed into her since childhood.

Although she now shared Hunter's name, she was still essentially Cort's nanny. They both knew that.

She couldn't overstep her place, but she couldn't turn away, either. Not when he was looking at her as if he were on the road to hell and she was his only salvation. If it was comfort he wanted…

His eyes shuttered closed and his mouth touched hers in the most poignant kiss ever imaginable. Damp with the salt of his tears and raw and powerful as a breaking wave.

Juliana heard a
beep-beep, beep-beep
that was surely her heartbeat rapping sharply against her chest—until she realized it was her cell phone.

Hunter reared back abruptly as if released from a spell.

Juliana whirled around to find her purse, disappointment and embarrassment staining her cheeks. “That might be my father.”

What on earth had she been thinking to allow Hunter to kiss her?

She'd been thinking that he was as emotionally upset as she was. That she loved him and he'd needed someone to turn to as much as she did.

“Hello?”

The voice of her father's doctor cut through the chaotic thoughts tumbling in her brain. “I'm afraid I have some bad news. Your father's suffered a stroke. He's slipped into a coma.”

Juliana dropped the phone as the searing pain of rejection drove a wedge into her heart. She'd already known how devoted her father was to the Collingwoods, especially Ross, who he'd treated as a son.

Without Ross, her father had lost his will to live.

She took one faltering step toward Hunter and fainted.

For years Hunter had suspected that the Sinclair family was cursed when it came to marriage, and now he was convinced of it. His bride had collapsed on their wedding day. Ross would have appreciated the irony of it, were it not Juliana who'd collapsed.

Hunter rubbed his tired eyes, the scents of the evergreens and roses filling his lungs as he kept a watchful eye on Juliana. She lay sleeping in his bed, still in her wedding dress, resembling for all the world a slumbering princess waiting for true love's kiss to awaken her.

Unfortunately he didn't think awakening her with a kiss was going to solve any of their problems.

She'd been sleeping for fourteen hours straight. She was exhausted. He'd noticed she hadn't eaten much in the last few days, but then, neither had he. The call from the hospital about her father's stroke had been the last straw. Hunter had spoken to the doctor and learned there was little the doctors could do but wait and see. Goodhew had slipped into a coma. The CT scan had confirmed an early stroke, but the regular clot-buster medication, which would normally be administered to thin his blood, couldn't be used because of his recent surgery. He could likely bleed to death from such a blood thinner. The doctors had re
inserted the endotracheal tube because he wasn't breathing well on his own.

After agonizing over what the doctor had said, Hunter had phoned up Del Lanham, the commander of his elite security force. They'd assessed the risks and hammered out the security arrangements for a visit to the hospital later today.

Del thought he was crazy and advised against it. They had their hands full making sure Juliana would be safe at the funeral and the reception. Why expose her to another risk? But Hunter was adamant. Juliana needed to see her father as soon as possible.

Hunter set aside the reports of the phone calls coming in to the 1-800 hotline that he'd been skimming and leaned back in the leather chair for another catnap. It was 4:00 a.m. He'd napped earlier from 10:00 p.m. until 2:00 a.m., when he'd gotten up to give Cort a bottle and change his diaper. He could rest for a couple more hours before he woke Juliana so they could prepare for the funeral. He needed to brief her on the security arrangements. He wanted her to be strong today. Have her wits about her. The killer could make another move.

 

J
ULIANA FELT A NIGGLE
of panic like the tapping of a finger on a windowpane when she saw the crowds and the TV cameras outside St. Patrick's Cathedral. A gray sky draped the city as if sharing in the dismal mood of the day. The two operatives seated on either side of her in the hired car should have made her feel safer—Hunter had handpicked them for this detail—but they were no substitute for her husband's reassuring presence. She wanted Hunter beside her, watching over her as he'd watched over her last night while she'd slept.

She'd never forget how she'd woken this morning, feel
ing disoriented by the white canopy above her head and a soreness in her lower back. She'd desperately needed to pee. At first she'd thought she might still be dreaming or she'd been injured and was in a hospital. But as she'd attempted to push herself up, she'd noticed Hunter dozing in a chair he'd drawn up beside the bed. His jaw slack and covered with stubble. His dark lashes rested against hollows that suggested he'd been up most of the night. Suddenly, the phone call from the doctor had slipped painfully into her mind.

She'd sagged back down into the bed like a twig that had just been broken, remembering her father's stroke. Though she told herself she was a mature adult and that her father loved her, she couldn't push away the irrational thought that her father was withdrawing from her again—choosing Ross, who'd been like a son to him, over her. Juliana couldn't explain it, but knowing that Hunter had stayed with her, had watched over her during the night made the heartbreaking fear that her father might not recover more bearable.

She wouldn't be alone.

She sighed and glanced down at her bare fingers as the car pulled up at the curb outside the cathedral. She'd removed her wedding band and engagement ring and given them to Hunter for safekeeping before leaving for the funeral. Odd how yesterday she'd felt like a fraud when she'd put the engagement ring on her finger. Now she felt vulnerable without it.

With her bodyguards—whom she'd be introducing as her father's cousin Francis and his wife, Gina—flanking her, Juliana was escorted into the cathedral to the private section reserved for family and close friends of the family. Organ music from Mozart's
Requiem
soared poignantly up into the arched ceiling of the cathedral.

Juliana's heart wrenched when she saw the twin coffins placed side by side, surrounded by a heart-shaped garden of white roses, lilies and freesia. Sprays of roses rested on the polished cherry wood of the coffins. Dainty pink roses for Lexi. Bloodred roses for Ross. Juliana's throat clotted. She felt certain her father would have approved.

Lexi's sister, Annette York, looking wan and brave in a black suit with a dignified short black veil attached to her hat, was braced between Gord Nevins, the Collingwoods' robust household manager and Stacey Kerr, Lexi's personal secretary. Leggy, with shoulder-length tawny hair, Stacey looked striking in a black-and-white suit and pearls. Juliana assumed the two men in the modest black suits beside Gord and Stacey were the plainclothes state troopers assigned to protect Annette.

As soon as Annette noticed Juliana's arrival she broke free of her guard and hurried forward, her arms outstretched. Juliana hugged the petite woman hard, tears unleashing. She could sense desperation in the clinging strength of her grip. Poor Annette! This must be so difficult for her!

“I'm so sorry,” she whispered in Annette's ear. “I wish I could have been with you these last few days.”

Annette squeezed Juliana's shoulders almost painfully. “I
need
to talk to you.”

“Not here, not now,” Juliana warned, afraid Annette might mention Cort in public. “Later at the house—in private.”

Annette's grip eased. “All right. At the house.” She stepped back and Juliana felt a twitch of alarm. The glazed look in the petite woman's green eyes reminded her of a spooked horse. “Will you sit with me during the ceremony? Lexi was so fond of you. She considered you a friend.” Her voice cracked. “And I want us to be friends,
or I don't think I'm going to be able to get through this. At least my parents aren't alive. This would have killed them.”

Juliana silently agreed as she slipped an arm around Annette's waist. Like everyone who entered Lexi's sphere, Lexi's parents had doted on their eldest daughter. “I'm here for you,” she promised fervently.

While she'd never felt the immediate warmth and closeness to Annette that she'd felt for Lexi—Annette had always been prickish and prone to mood swings—she realized the situation warranted that she establish closer permanent ties with her. She
was
Cort's aunt.

Annette asked after her father and Juliana felt her body cramp when she told Annette about her father's stroke.

“I'm so sorry,” Annette murmured.

They were interrupted by the en masse arrival of the senior officers of the Collingwood Corporation and the board of directors. Juliana steeled her spine at the mob of black suits and the power the individuals wearing them represented, her heart palpitating at the possibility that Lexi and Ross's killer might be among them. Would any of them pay her undue interest?

Grateful for the bodyguards hovering close by, she remained steadfastly at Annette's side, observing the expressions and the behavior of the officers and the board members as they stepped forward, one by one, to offer their condolences.

Kendrick Dwyer was first. After telling Annette she could depend on him for anything, he told Juliana that he hoped her father would make a speedy recovery and the company would, of course, pick up the costs of his care.

Simon Findlay made apologies to Annette for his fiancée's inability to accompany him this morning and gave Juliana a polite nod before turning away.

Annette whispered to Juliana out of the side of her mouth that the cathedral wasn't spacious enough to hold Findlay's fiancée's breasts. Juliana contained her shock at the inappropriate remark, but then realized Annette was only letting off steam. Lexi's sister was an intelligent woman, and she'd no doubt already figured out there was a good chance that someone in this church had killed her brother-in-law and her sister. Juliana shared Annette's anger.

Paulo Tardioli offered Annette his condolences, then gave Juliana a glance that expressed such frank sexual interest that she felt tarnished. David Younge and his wife Sarah, who'd been totally supportive of Ross and Lexi after Riana's abduction, hugged Juliana and asked if her father was still in the hospital. They'd sent a basket containing books on tape and a selection of his favorite teas to the house.

“Please let us know if there's anything we can do to help,” Sarah offered, tears glimmering in her eyes.

Juliana thanked them for their kindness. She'd always liked Sarah.

Wearing dark, narrow sunglasses and a ponytail, Phillip Ballard stood out—a veritable maverick in the sea of corporate suits. His suit had neither a lapel, nor a tie. A black leather lace secured his ponytail. He and his very pregnant wife didn't give Juliana a second glance, but she didn't sense any animosity from the couple, either.

But Sable Holden… Well, the instant Sable held out her hand to Annette and said she hoped Ross and Lexi would rest in peace, Juliana experienced an unbridled urge to wipe the smug twitch off the woman's lips. In her thirties, Sable had the lacquered finish of a woman who worked too hard to look good. Her body was too sculpted, her clothes were too pretentious—as if she were a widow in mourning. Her hair was coated with too much hair spray and her makeup
was overdone. The brunette would have been much more appealing with a fresh-scrubbed face and more conservative clothes.

Annette smirked at Sable. “I'm sure they'll be as madly in love with each other in heaven as they were on earth. I guess you'll have to lust after someone else's husband now.”

Sable gave Annette a subzero smile. “You never were half the lady your sister was. But I'm sure you know that.” Rattling her jewels, Sable stormed off, her high heels clicking sharply.

Annette trembled with suppressed rage. “What a bitch.”

“I can have her removed from the church if you like,” Juliana offered. “That's what the gentlemen behind us are for.”

“What? And give Sable a story for the tabloids? Not on your life!”

Several more people arrived. Friends and co-workers of Lexi's from the hospital where she'd worked before she married Ross. Friends of Lexi's parents. And a lanky young man with a raggedly trimmed brown beard and owlish hazel eyes in an ill-fitting gray tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows.

“Darren, what are you doing here?” Annette stammered, color infusing her face as the young man crushed her to him.

“I came to pay my respects. See if you needed anything—a shoulder to cry on? I've missed you.”

Annette's features hardened. “Darren, I told you, it's over.”

“But I—” Darren broke off and looked at Juliana as if he'd just noticed she was there. “We need to talk.”

The conversation was beginning to sound too personal for Juliana's ears. She wondered if Darren might be a for
mer boyfriend or possibly Annette's ex-fiancé. Juliana excused herself and told Annette she'd return in a moment.

Off in a shadowed corner near the confessional she spotted Kendrick Dwyer having a private conversation with Stacey Kerr. Stacey looked upset, her eyes dark in her pale face. What were they talking about?

Visions of Hunter's conspiracy theory filling her mind, Juliana skirted around the pews toward them, hoping to catch a nibble of their conversation. Her bodyguards followed at a discreet distance.

Gord Nevins, however, intercepted her plans. Juliana stepped right into the stocky household manager's bone-jarring embrace. The strain of the last few days showed in the deep white lines scoring his mouth and the puffiness around his eyes. Juliana introduced her bodyguards as her father's cousin and his wife. “I brought them for support.” Then, drawing Gord aside, Juliana gently broke the news of her father's stroke. Gord and her father had worked together in harmony for years and respected one another. “He's in a coma, and I'm afraid they don't know if and when he'll come out of it.”

Gord's pale eyes glistened. “I'll keep him in my prayers. Your father is strong-willed. Can I see him? Sit with him? It might do him good to have a visit from an old friend. I'll tell him how the staff and the house have gone to hell without him. That ought to rouse him.”

She shook her head, tears bathing her cheeks. Her heart felt like a heavy stone in her breast. She hated this. Hated suspecting people whom she'd trusted for years. “I wish you could, but the police are taking extra security precautions. No visitors.”

“You're coming back to the house after the interment, then?”

“Yes, for a little while.”

Gord patted her arm and kissed her on the cheek. “Good. This is a time for us to be together. I'm being signaled by the funeral director. The service is about to start. We'll talk more at the house.”

She glanced toward the corner where she'd seen Stacey and Kendrick Dwyer, but they were gone. Needing a tissue to wipe her face, she flipped open the small black leather purse she'd borrowed from Hunter's sister's closet for today. It was just big enough to hold her cell phone, some tissues and a lipstick. Juliana dried her tears. People were taking their seats and Annette was motioning for her to join her in the front pew.

Juliana gathered her courage for the strength to make it through the ceremony and the interment and wished once more that Hunter were here with her.