Chayton (21 page)

Chayton's soothing strokes over her hair and shoulder reminded Kate of what else she might stand to lose. How to broach the subject was beyond Kate at the moment, so she accepted his gentle caresses and tried to push back the pain. Besides mental anguish, her body ached in ways it never had, her muscles screaming protest at being used in the simple act of sitting forward.

“I'll help you figure it all out. Why don't you come stay at my house while the police conduct their investigation in New York?” Chayton said.

“All right.” Kate wouldn't turn down the offer. She didn't know whether he was being the polite gentleman she knew him to be, or whether he too wanted of her what she wanted of him. It was all very awkward, with many things left unspoken.

Now wasn't the time to discuss it. Maybe later.

Once her tears dried and the shaking stopped, she accepted Chayton's help to lean back in the bed. The room spun in dizzying circles, and she couldn't seem to keep her eyelids open.

“Why don't you rest? I'll be here until it's time to take you home.”

Kate stared blearily up at Chayton's face. Such a handsome face. Eyes full of concern, lips pressed tight as if there was more he wanted to say, but couldn't. The mention of home sent a spike of longing through Kate. Longing to be back at the Montana mansion, far from scenes of murder and mayhem. Closer to where she'd said I Do.

“You won't leave?” she whispered.

“No. Sleep, Kate. I'll be here, don't worry.”

As she let sleep claim her, Kate worried anyway.

Kate stood in the foyer of Chayton's house, struck by a sense of nostalgia. Even though her time here had been short, the memories attached to certain rooms overwhelmed her. How different things were the last time she'd slept under this roof. Then, she'd been full of wide-eyed wonder, about to embark on a risky venture of becoming an almost-stranger's wife. The sense of awe and wonderment had faded, replaced by wistfulness and longing.

“You okay?” Chayton asked, sticking his face into her line of vision.

Kate shook herself out of her reverie and smiled. “I'm fine. Just remembering.”

“The good or the bad?” he asked, tightening his elbow against her fingers.

Kate, hand tucked up under his elbow for support, gave his arm a light squeeze. “Both,” she said honestly. She couldn't remember the good
without
the bad. Without remembering her massive blunder in the bedroom upstairs,
his
bedroom, where they'd nearly consummated their fake marriage.

Thinking of bedrooms brought Kate to the question that had hounded her for two days: would he take her to the bedroom designated as 'hers', or would he take her to his, keeping up the ruse of a happily married couple? Was there any reason to keep the ruse up any longer, now that Anton was dead?

A few staff members strolled by, nodding politely with quiet greetings.

“Welcome home, Missus Black,” one petite maid said.

Missus Black. A pang lanced through Kate's insides, a pang that had nothing to do with the left over ache from the accident.

She was Missus Black—and she wasn't.

“Thank you. I'm glad to be back.” That, at least, was the truth.

“Come on. I know you're probably sore from all the travel.” Chayton led her on, passing through the foyer to the stairs. At the bottom one, he bent to carefully pick her up, carrying her bridegroom style to the second floor.

Kate could have navigated the steps one by one, slowly but surely. She didn't protest at all when he swept her into his arms, however, allowing him to take her where he would.

Which turned out to be her former room, not his.

Kate struggled to hide her disappointment.

What did you expect? That you would pick up where you left off in Hawaii, before you left him in the middle of the night for Anton?
Kate chided herself and thanked Chayton when he set her down in one of two overstuffed chairs. She noticed a few changes in the delicate, feminine room: bottles of perfume and lotion sat in a silver tray atop the dresser, next to another tray of brushes, a kit of make-up and other girly necessities. A slip of peach satin peeked out the top of a dresser drawer, giving hints that more items lurked in there with it. Chayton had stocked the drawers, probably the bathroom, and certainly the closet.

Always thinking, always one step ahead.

“This is becoming a habit, isn't it,” Kate said, referring to the new things. Not that he'd likely know what she meant.

“A pleasant habit,” he said, as if he knew exactly what she was thinking.

Kate met his eyes. “I appreciate it.”

“You're welcome. If there's anything else you need, just ask. We tried to cover everything.”

“I'll let you know. Tomorrow, I think, I need to start contacting my managers and my other employees to see where everything stands. Which means I'll need a new phone, if you can help with that.” Kate had faith that her managers could handle things, but she needed to at least get in touch with them to make sure everything was still running smoothly.

“Give me the information—your old number—and I'll make the necessary arrangements.” Chayton pushed a hand into the pocket of his ash gray slacks. Coupled with a teal button down, hair caught at his nape with a plain black band, he looked the epitome of a businessman.

Kate stole a few moments to appreciate the lean, strong image Chayton presented. He seemed so capable, so self-assured. Confident.

Kate wished she felt half as confident as he looked. “All right.”

“You can use the house phone until then for any calls. We've been able to hold the media at bay so far, but you'll probably need to release a statement through your people so you don't get hounded.”

“I'll see to it first thing in the morning.” The media was the last thing Kate wanted to deal with. She'd refused to even turn the television on in the hospital and hadn't looked at a newspaper at all.

“You sure you're okay?” he asked.

Kate met his eyes. “Yes, why do you ask?”

“Because you have this look of disappointment about you.”

Kate had forgotten how intuitive Chayton could be. She glanced around the bedroom, unable to bring herself to admit she wanted to be in his room, not hers. She gave him a truthful answer regardless.

“I'm disappointed that Anton won't ever be made to pay for his crimes.”

“You don't think death is payment enough?”

“Honestly? No. Anton deserved to have the book thrown at him. He deserved to wallow in prison—which he would have
hated—
for taking so many other people's lives. He deserved to suffer a little. He died almost instantly, so there was no suffering at all. Not only are people I loved dead, their families now have to go on in a world where their mother, father, brother, son or daughter will never come home again. No, death was far, far too good for Anton.” Kate surprised herself with her quiet vehemence. Tears pricked the back of her eyes, tears she refused to give in to. She met Chayton's gaze, a gaze full of sympathy and understanding.

“He paid the ultimate price for his desperation.” Chayton paused, then said, “I would have appreciated fifteen minutes alone with him.”

“So you don't think he would have suffered more if he'd been made to languish in prison the rest of his life?”

“I think, with his connections, he might have found a way to eventually try to get back at you. Even with him behind bars, you would have been looking over your shoulder the rest of your life, which is no way to live.”

Kate flinched. She hadn't thought about that. Anton
did
have a lot of connections. “That's impossible, isn't it? Those are stories for television. That doesn't really
happen in real life.”

Chayton just stared at her.

Kate shifted in the chair, uncomfortable at the thought. Especially now, with a baby on the way.

“With all that time to stew and think—and get angrier, and angrier—I wouldn't have put it past him. What a way to wile away his time, attempting to orchestrate more mayhem behind bars. He wouldn't have gotten what he wanted in the end, but it might have given him something to look forward to.”

Kate scoffed. Yet she could see the truth in it. “He should have just taken the money and been happy with that. But no.”

Chayton frowned. “What money?”

Kate glanced down at her lap. They hadn't discussed the time in Hawaii in depth. Not yet. In a quiet voice, she said, “I left the beach house that night to make Anton an offer. I thought—foolishly I realize now—that if I gave him two million dollars, that it would 'buy him off', essentially. I was afraid of what he would do, and I wanted him off our back. So I went to tell him he could have his money if he would just leave us alone.”

“He didn't want the money?”

“No. He wanted my entire inheritance and he wanted you dead, apparently. He laughed off the two million as if I'd offered him a handful of pennies. Didn't even hesitate.” Kate met Chayton's eyes. His expression was closed off, unreadable. She couldn't tell what he was thinking. They stared at each other for a long minute.

“I wish you would have thought harder about that before going off by yourself,” he finally said in a quiet voice.

“I know. It wasn't the best idea. I just wanted it to be over, and I really thought two million dollars would be more than enough. I thought he would be happy to have it
right then,
instead of having to wait. I thought I had the upper hand.” Kate hated admitting she'd made such a grievous error in judgement over Anton's reaction. It was what it was, however, and she couldn't take it back now.

“It probably would have been enough for most men. Anton was cut from a different cloth. One of those people whose ambitions far exceeded what was wise or achievable.”

“You almost died. If I'd had any idea he was waiting for an opening, I wouldn't have ever left.” Kate rubbed her forehead, careful of a bruise above her eyebrow.

“He meant to take a shot at some point. Even if he had doubts about the marriage's legitimacy, he had it in for me just in case. Better, I guess, that you weren't there with me when it happened.”

“If you had gone with me, he probably would have done the same thing,” Kate said.

“If I'd gone with you, he wouldn't have ever left Hawaii with you in tow.” There was a steely quality to Chayton's reply that left no doubt he meant what he said.

“Maybe not. Maybe he would have tried something even more desperate.” She paused, then said, “By the way, I've wondered what kind of connections
you
have as well. You're always where you need to be and your friends—they seem to be as adept at protection as you.”

Chayton tipped a look toward the ceiling, then met her gaze again. “All I'm going to say about that is...we like to be in the know. And we don't like to sit around doing nothing but tending typical business or spend all our time in board meetings. We like to be active and involved.”

Kate considered all of the things that had happened up to this point. Although Chayton wore a no nonsense expression, and indicated by his tone that he didn't want to go into depth about it, she wasn't satisfied with that answer. “So you put yourselves in dangerous situations, like with the trafficking ring you mentioned back in the beginning. How do you even find out about those kinds of things?”

Chayton said nothing for several minutes. “Like I said. We like to be in the know.”

Kate scoffed. “Chayton, I deserve a better answer than that.”

“That's all the answer you're going to get.”

She leaned back in the chair, a little surprised that he refused to give up any more information. Then again—what right
did
she have to demand answers of him? For all she knew, he planned to ship her home the second it was all right to do so. He'd said nothing of working things out, or even wanting to. It mattered to Kate that he put himself in dangerous situations, though, and she couldn't ignore the tension building in her shoulders. It wasn't just that she was pregnant with his child, and that she thought he shouldn't do that for the baby's sake, but she didn't want to see anything bad happen. He was a good man, with a big heart, and the thought of him injured—or worse—upset her more than she wanted to admit. Without telling him
about the baby, he couldn't make the decision for himself whether or not to give up these extracurricular jaunts.

What would she do if he insisted on doing them
anyway
?

“What's on your mind, Kate?” he asked, interrupting her thoughts.

“The things you're not saying. The things you
won't
say. It just makes me wonder, that's all.” She didn't press him for more information right then.

“Don't worry about it. I'm still around, aren't I?” He smiled, a thin curve at the corners of his mouth. “I'll let you get some rest. When you're feeling up to it, when everything else gets worked out with the authorities, we'll see about taking you home.”

. . .

Chayton walked away from Kate's room, rolling his chin left and right to ease the tightness in his neck and shoulders. One hand lifted to rub at the muscles while he stalked the hallways to his suite. The look on Kate's face when he'd mentioned taking her home played over and over in his mind.

She'd looked surprised. Almost stricken. Maybe disappointed. He wasn't sure if it was any of those or all of them combined.

Pouring himself a drink from the sidebar, he lifted the glass to his mouth and went to the window. The potent liquor burned going down and gave his senses a jolt. He was doing far more drinking lately than was his preference.

Staring out at the expansive scenery of his lands, Chayton considered his options. Taking Kate, who had said nothing about their marriage or their situation, back home seemed to be the right choice. Although relieved to know she had gone to Anton to offer him money in an effort to keep
him
safe, it didn't automatically fix things. There was a giant, awkward gap between them that he wasn't sure how to bridge.