The Butler's Daughter (6 page)

Although it was only going to be a quick civil ceremony, Juliana was determined to make it special enough to satisfy any prying minds. She was a wedding planner. She could pull this off! It was all in the details. Not the least of which was Hunter.

Amid the other emotions teeming in her heart was the keen disappointment that she would never have children of her own. Leastwise, not with Hunter. He'd made it so plain that her face burned just thinking about it. She'd have to content herself with being Cort's stand-in mother. And who knew, maybe Riana would one day be found, safe and sound, giving Cort a sibling? Though, if Hunter was right and Riana's abduction was linked with her parents' murders, it was unlikely the infant was alive.

Juliana experienced a chill as the limo pulled up outside Tiffany & Co. She'd picked out a Valentino dress for the ceremony, but she and Hunter still needed rings. Then she could focus on making their wedding night an event to remember—even though she knew it would be an experience she'd just as soon forget.

 

A
WEDDING NIGHT
was all about fantasy, Juliana thought ruefully as Hunter joined her at dinner later that evening, his fingers brushing the loose tendrils of hair adorning her neck after she'd pulled her hair into a chignon.

Her heart skipped like a stone over her ribs and plopped into the pit of her belly. She hadn't seen him in hours and she was conscious of everything about him: the fatigue biting hollows into his lean cheeks, the texture of his gray wool blazer, his smoothly shaven jaw, the spicy scent of his aftershave and the faint dampness of his hair as if he'd recently showered.

His eyes glinted in warning as he slanted his mouth over hers in a welcoming kiss. Her fingers pressed against the lapel of his jacket in a futile effort to hold him and his invasive kiss at bay, but the warm coaxing pressure of his lips trampled her resistance, luring her into a dizzying vortex of contrasting sensations: hard muscle against soft flesh. Racing heartbeats and slow dizzying pulses. Dark bottomless kisses and blinding points of light that left her breathless and light-headed when he finally pulled away.

She blinked, trying to get her bearings. Planning a wedding night to reflect Hunter's strong, compelling personality would take more daring than she'd first imagined.

The dark pinpoints of his pupils were narrowed on her, cool and assessing as if estimating the cost of the sleek cobalt dress and the diamond stud earrings she was wearing. “Miss me?” he said with dry amusement.

Juliana felt a furious blush erupt over her skin. The confidence she'd felt when she'd dressed for dinner crumbled tremulously beneath his gaze. The dress and the shoes and the earrings she had thought so perfect earlier, now made her feel as desirable and as invisible as a chambermaid.

She lowered her gaze and gestured toward the table she'd made certain was perfectly set with flowers and candlelight.
“I would think that's obvious. I asked Valentina to hold dinner until your arrival. But you look tired. Would you prefer a tray in your room?” She smiled at him uncertainly. “It would be more private. And Cort's out like a light—for the night, I hope.”

One of Hunter's eyebrows darted up. Juliana tried not to jump out of her skin when he slid a hand around her waist to the small of her back. “Are you propositioning me?”

She wet her dry lips, her heartbeat rattling in her chest like a door improperly latched. “Consider it a suggestion.” And she could ask the questions about the bombing that she'd hungered to ask all afternoon, rather than playing out this farce of being head over heels in love with Hunter.

Hunter's nerves were pulled taut as cables as he took in the color infusing his bride-to-be's flawless skin. Nothing had prepared him for the sight of Juliana standing near the table in the dining room, the candlelight glowing off her translucent skin and winking like stars off the midnight-blue fabric that clung to her delicate curves. At the end of this horrible day, his breath had stuck in his lungs hot and heavy as smoke from a smoldering fire at the vulnerability and the quiet determination shining in her eyes.

He'd kissed her, wanting to blot it all out, prove to himself that this wasn't real, that the last twenty-four hours had been a nightmare and the fantasy would end when he kissed Juliana. Cinderella's coach would turn back into a pumpkin.

Only it didn't end. It became more real. Her skin tempted him, gliding beneath his fingers like the satiny embrace of the St. Lawrence on a misty morning. Her mouth pleasured him, a cove of delights shyly given up for his exploration. And her eyes compelled him to resist this madness.

He wasn't sure which would be worse, playing out this farce in front of the servants or being alone with his reluc
tant Cinderella in his bedroom. But he needed food. And they needed to talk.

“Marquise,” he said over his shoulder, inhaling the scent of her skin. She smelled different than she had that morning. More sophisticated than apple blossoms. He presumed she'd bought a new perfume to go with the new clothes and the diamond earrings. The clothes and the earrings met with his approval. The perfume did not. “Set up a table in my room. Juliana and I will be dining alone tonight.”

His fingers remained possessively on her lower back as he guided her toward his room. He'd had a meeting with Tom McGuire, Ross's lawyer, before he'd come back to the apartment, and he was still mulling over the list of monetary gifts Ross had bequeathed in his will, particularly the size of the gift to Juliana's father. True, Goodhew had been a faithful family retainer for many years. But two million dollars was a considerable sum of money by any standards.

His mouth settled into a grim line. God help Juliana and her father if either one of them was even remotely involved in Ross's and Lexi's murders.

 

“W
ELL, WHAT DID YOU
find out?”

Hunter warred between suspicion and amusement at Juliana's unaccustomed directness.

He dabbed at his mouth with the linen napkin. “According to the state police, the bomb was some kind of high explosive. It had been concealed in a small chest in the master bedroom. The bomb was set off by a pager. They're attempting to piece together the pager so they can trace it.”

“Do the police have any idea how the explosives were put there?”

“Not that they're revealing. They're interviewing the
owners of the property and anyone who visited the house within the last few days, hoping to come up with a lead. How is your father? Has he come around from the surgery? He may be able to answer some questions.”

Anxiety flickered in Juliana's brown eyes. “I've been checking with the hospital every hour for updates. He's still groggy from the surgery. The ICU nurse said he's in a lot of pain and they've heavily medicated him. I'm hoping tomorrow he might be stronger. The nurse told me the police had come to the hospital this afternoon to ask questions, but they were turned away. Your security guards are still there.”

Hunter cut himself another piece of roast beef, almost too tired to wield the knife and fork. “Did you call the estate?”

“Yes. Things were in an uproar. It took several calls to get through. I spoke to Lexi's secretary, Stacey. She said the police were there asking questions.”

“Did she happen to mention they were sweeping for bugs?”

Juliana winced. “No. That topic didn't come up. Did they find any?”

“Apparently not. If the house had been bugged, someone's removed the evidence.”

“You mean someone on the staff, don't you?”

Her defensiveness was charming. Hunter deigned not to point out to her that no listening devices would have been necessary if she or her father was involved in the murders. Or that both she and her father had escaped the bomb.

He'd feel a lot better once the police checked with the doctor who'd diagnosed Cort's ear infection. Hunter had gotten the doctor's name from the bottle of antibiotics in the refrigerator. Juliana wasn't taking one step out of this apartment with Cort until he knew she was everything Ross
had purported her to be. “Your father was seriously injured in the explosion, I would think you'd want the person responsible held accountable.”

“I do. But my father used to tell me that if you treat servants fairly, they'll reward you with loyalty. Ross might have been the cutthroat of Wall Street, but he was a generous employer. My father weeded out employees whose work ethics weren't in sync with domestic service.”

“Everyone has a price.”

“It may be true for some people, but not everyone. Do you have a price, Hunter? Is that what the work you do as The Guardian is all about—the right price for the job?”

“Prices aren't always about money. The payoff can be about pride, revenge, retribution, thrills.”

“What's your payoff?”

“All of the above?”

“Liar.”

Hunter eased back against the leather club chair, mildly irritated that she looked so pleased with herself. What was it about women that made them so certain they could guess what a man was thinking? That she knew why he dedicated so much of his life to being The Guardian? “Tell me, did you agree to care for Cort purely out of loyalty?”

Juliana remained as composed as a marble bust in the candlelight. “That was the main reason. I truly didn't think Lexi could bear to be parted from her baby for long. And Ross offered enough incentive that I knew I'd have the capital to open my own wedding planning firm when the job ended.” Her expression grew somber. “And here I am ending my wedding planning career by planning my own wedding. Ironic, isn't it?”

“It's not too late to change your mind.”

Her warm mahogany eyes settled unwavering on him.
“No, Cort needs a mother. And some promises are meant to be honored for a lifetime.”

It was probably his deep fatigue, but Hunter felt something stir within him like a stone rolled aside to reveal cold, bare earth to the sunlight. Was she implying she would also honor her marriage vows to him for a lifetime?

“If it makes you feel any better, Ross's offices are being swept tonight for listening devices. I met with the senior management of the Collingwood Corporation today after I paid my respects to Annette.”

“How is Annette?”

“Distraught. And frustrated that she can't see Cort.”

“Can't say as I blame her,” Juliana said softly. “This must be such a terrible shock to her, especially after losing both her parents so recently. Her mother died of a heart attack just after the one year anniversary of Riana's abduction. The doctors said it was probably stress related. Annette's father died about six weeks later in a car accident. He went through a stop sign and hit a garbage truck.”

Hunter nodded, remembering how Ross had been so worried about Lexi that he'd come to FairIsle. Hunter had taken one look at Ross and poured him a drink. Ross had told Hunter that Lexi was growing increasingly fragile. She wasn't eating. He'd insisted on taking her to a doctor and they'd discovered she was pregnant again. Instead of being happy, she was terrified something would happen to this baby, too. Goodhew had suggested an outrageous scheme to hide her pregnancy from the world and protect the baby's existence and Ross had wanted Hunter's opinion. Who could have guessed it would lead to the present situation?

“Annette gave me an earful on the senior management of the Collingwood Corporation,” Hunter said neutrally. “I was hoping you could supplement her comments.”

“My father would really be the one to ask. He had Ross's confidence. But I'll do my best.”

Hunter poured himself another glass of red wine and sketched out the information Annette had told him. Juliana confirmed that Ross had trusted Kendrick Dwyer, the CFO of the corporation, implicitly. She'd never heard her father suggest anything otherwise.

“My father called Paulo Tardioli a shark. He predicted that Tardioli would eventually find a way to oust Ross's favor with Simon Findlay. But Simon knew Ross didn't want a human resources manager who questioned his decisions. David Younge and his wife, Sarah, were very supportive of Ross and Lexi after Rianna's kidnapping. Especially Sarah. She dropped by or called every day and helped organize the poster campaign.” Juliana paused, her slender fingers toying with the stem of her wineglass. Hunter noticed that the third finger of her left hand was bare. He'd check with Marquise to ensure that she'd picked out a suitable engagement ring.

He found his mind drifting, imagining that hand resting on his own, bound to his by duty and loyalty. Would she feel isolated and trapped on FairIsle? Exhaustion tugged at his spirit and he felt his eyelids droop, but he wanted to finish the conversation. He struggled to keep his mind alert, away from distracting thoughts of Juliana.

Each of the officers had provided him with alibis of their whereabouts on Thursday and Friday as he'd requested. But it would take time for his operatives to verify the accounts. They'd each also given him a short and interesting list of suspects. After what Annette had told him about Sable Holden and Phillip Ballard, whose positions on the board of directors were a condition of the takeovers of their respective companies, it was not surprising they garnered top spots on two of the four lists.

Ballard's name didn't ring a bell with Juliana, but she straightened thoughtfully when she heard Sable's name. “Oh yes, I remember her from the wedding. She was the snippy woman who rudely eyed Lexi's pregnant tummy when she passed through the receiving line and asked if Ross was the father of her baby. Lexi called her the ‘thorn in Ross's side.' Ross hadn't wanted Sable included in the guest list for the wedding, but Lexi thought it would be insulting if she was the only member of the board of directors who wasn't invited.”

Hunter spoke his thoughts out loud. “I wonder how insulted Sable was by the takeover deal. If she felt Ross had screwed her over, she might have resorted to kidnapping and murder. I'll look into it. And I'll check out the deal with Ballard's company, too.” He stifled a yawn.