Sin on the Run (20 page)

“They've been in the family for generations,” Lady Helen told her after noticing Rhonda staring at the cup she'd been handed.

“They're lovely. So dainty.”

“Yes, and if you break one, Grandmother will never forgive you.” Blake took an empty cup and began tossing it in the air.

His mother snatched it up. “Things would be much easier around here if you would stop antagonizing her.”

“Me? She starts it.”

“And must you finish it? She's set in her ways. Accept it and move on. I barely get to see you as it is. Do we have to have this constant bickering?”

He kissed his mother's cheek. “For you, I'll try.”

Would she and her mother have gotten along this well had she lived?

Someone's phone rang. After a few seconds, Rhonda realized it was coming from her purse. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“You forgot you had a mobile phone?” his mother said, looking at her like she was an odd duck.

She
would
be odd if she couldn't remember having a cellphone. But it had been so long since she'd been able to carry one, she actually had forgotten. “It's new,” she explained, glancing at the number. “The ringtone is different.” It was a long distance call from a number she didn't recognize.

“Do you need to reply?” Lady Helen asked.

“No, it's probably the phone company telling me I've arrived and to enjoy my long distance plan. Blake got one earlier.” As it was the middle of the night back home, no one she knew would be calling her. She slipped the phone into the outside pocket of her bag.

“Where are Father and Colin?”

“Your father,” she said, while pouring Blake a cup of tea, “has a meeting with Tom. Something about the visitor center. Tom is our groundskeeper. Several times a year we open the house to visitors,” Lady Helen explained to Rhonda. “Your brother is at the club. And Sarah,” whom Rhonda had noticed he hadn't asked about, “is in town lunching with a friend. Again. I worry that trying to conceive has taken a toll on their marriage.”

“So how are they?”

If she didn't believe Blake loved his brother, she'd have sworn she'd heard disdain in that question.

“They have their issues to deal with.”

She offered Rhonda a biscuit from an exquisite silver tray. Rhonda declined and understood from the way Lady Helen put it that Colin and his wife weren't getting along. “I'm sorry,” Rhonda offered. “I heard about the baby.”

“Thank you. It can't be easy. Losing one's child.”

The teacup rattled in the saucer in Rhonda's hands. She set it down before anyone noticed. A woman had lost her child and this family mourned that loss. And here she was, debating what to do with another one should she be forced to make a decision.

“They could always adopt,” Blake said.

But from the way he'd said it, Rhonda got the feeling the couple wasn't interested in adopting. It must have something to do with the will.

His mother, looking a little uncomfortable, glanced from Rhonda to Blake. Getting the hint, Rhonda stood, unable to stifle a yawn. “Excuse me. Jet lag. Why don't I go to my room?” she said. “You two catch up.”

“You haven't finished your tea,” Blake complained.

“I think your mother would like to speak to you in private,” she politely argued, plus a nap sounded good. She'd been so worried about him, she hadn't slept on the plane.

“There isn't anything she can't say around you.”

She had to ball her fists to keep from smacking him. Was he deliberately trying to screw up their deal? How was his mother supposed to believe there was nothing between them with comments like that?

“You have family matters to discuss. I'm not family.” She gave him a tight smile that let him know they would have their
own
matters to discuss, and he wasn't going to like those either.

“Blake, you're making Rhonda uncomfortable,” his mother scolded. “You don't mind if I call you Rhonda?”

She opened her mouth to ask what else would she call her when Blake cut her off.

“Rhonda and I are close friends. She knows about the will and how I feel about it. Whatever you and I are going to say here, I'll just tell her later.”

“Maybe so, but you're being rude. Excuse him, dear. Some things simply cannot be taught. Go and enjoy your rest.”

“I'll show Rhonda to her room.” Blake stood, his annoyance with his mother odd.

Why didn't he want to be alone with her? She wasn't his grandmother.

“I'll see you in a few minutes, Mother.”

Then he did something so stupid she believed it was intentional. He took her hand and walked her out.

Once alone, she yanked her hand free. “What do you think you're doing?” she hissed.

“Taking you to your room. This is a big house.”

“Okay, I get that, but we're supposed to be business acquaintances, friends at best. Friends who
don't
hold hands.” It
was
a big house, and as yelling never got her anywhere with Blake, she kept her voice low so as not to echo and be overheard.

“Oh shit. I forgot. I just . . . I just instinctively reached out.”

She wanted to believe him, and he'd been so uptight around his mother it was plausible, but something was off. “Fix this. She might wonder what's really up between us. And if everyone wants you to find a wife, she's going to be looking at me. Because the woman
always
wants to get married and have babies,” she said, wanting to punch him.

“Is that true?”

“
Not
this one.” She'd spent more than twenty-five years mothering someone. Did she want to do it again? Or would she end up resenting her kid? It wasn't fair to her, and it sure as hell wasn't fair to an innocent child.

Rhonda started up the stairs, got halfway and remembered she had no idea where she was going. She turned in a huff. “Where's the blue room?”

“Right, on the top landing. Follow the hall to the end and right again. Four doors on your left. Rhonda, please don't go away angry.”

“I'm not angry.” Although even to her own ears she sounded mad. She took a calming breath and started again. “Look, I feel bad about lying, but it's for the best and you've gone and messed it up. So now we'll have to lie more. I don't operate like that.”

He began climbing the stairs. “I know. I screwed up. I'll just tell her we've been friends for a while and . . . and that's it.” He met her on the landing. “I'm sorry,” he said, cupping her face with one hand. “Friends?”

“Seriously? Are you trying to make me madder? Anyone could come along and see this display of affection. Then where would we be?”

He dropped his hand. “You said you weren't mad. Do I need to add liar to the list?”

He wasn't funny. “No, but you can add murderer, once I push you down these stairs.”

“And there you go again, being mean.”

She bit back a smile. No way was she going to be nice to him. “I'm going to my room.
Don't
follow.” She booted up the remaining steps and turned left.

“Right,” Blake shouted.

She turned on her heel and went up the opposite staircase. She'd need a map if she was going to survive the week.

When she found her room, she understood why it was called the blue room. At twelve feet high and corniced in ornate flowers, elaborate moldings embellished the blue and white ceiling, and the walls were robin blue. Sheer lace hung from the bed's canopy, giving the room a feminine touch. If a girl wanted to feel like a princess, this room was it.

But she wasn't a princess. She was the girl who didn't belong with the handsome prince. And if she needed reminding that she didn't fit in his life,
this was it
. This place—his family—was everything she wasn't, everything she couldn't have. She ran her hand across the silky cream-colored damask on the bed, so exquisitely made she was leery of touching it.

This wasn't a pity party about the poor girl who resorted to stripping to earn money to keep her drunken daddy safe. This was about the girl who'd been forced to make the hard decisions that in the end would never make her good enough for Blake's family. She resolved to enjoy the time they had left, then say goodbye. Wanting to brush her teeth, she looked around the room, then remembered her purse was in the drawing room. If she ran downstairs, she might not be interrupting them.

She couldn't have been more wrong. Blake hadn't bothered closing the door and she could hear them arguing into the hallway. She told herself to get her ass upstairs. To give them privacy. This was none of her business, and yet, here she was outside the drawing room, listening.

“Your brother has mentioned adopting, but Sarah will have none of it. She keeps going to a specialist in France and the hormones she's been taking are driving the rest of us, your grandmother included, insane. I don't know what's gotten into her. Mother is worried she's heading down the same path as her father. The poor man. Thank goodness, these days we understand more about mental illness.”

Blake said nothing.

“All this effort is simply not worth it when they can love an unwanted babe.”

“I doubt Grandmother sees it that way.”

“You're right. And your father's attempt at contesting the will have failed. The money will go to charity unless one of you gives the title a legitimate heir, or an attempt at one. Father was very devious in his wording. The majority of the estate goes to the next Duke of Oakley, his great grandchild. If not, Historic Scotland and the charities will eventually get the bulk of his money. Should either you or Colin be the parents of said child, then you or Colin would be well compensated for your efforts. So, he is not controlling your life from the grave.”

“As I told you when it was read. You see, I was listening during those years at Oxford.”

“Yes. What a shame they didn't teach you manners.”

“Careful, Mother, or the next time we have dinner with the Queen I won't wear shoes.”

Rhonda nearly choked on her saliva. Dinner with the Queen?
The
Queen?

“As if I'd ever take you to the palace again. Her Majesty would admonish me for raising such a cad.”

“Seriously, Blake. This is no laughing matter.”

“You
do
understand why Sarah is against adopting?”

“The will, yes I know. But that's no reason to go to extremes.”

“After all these years, and you
still
don't know her,” he said, his tone resentful.

“She loves him,” his mother argued. “I know you don't believe it, but you haven't seen them together. She and I have talked and she regrets the way things ended, but she chose Colin over you. You need to forgive her.”

Blake dated Sarah? Why hadn't he told Rhonda? Unless he still had feelings for her. It sounded like she'd picked his brother over him. Wounded pride? Or something worse? Was that why he'd insisted Rhonda come? Why he'd grabbed Rhonda's hand and risked exposing them? He wanted Sarah to think Blake, too, had moved on?

“Is that what she told you? I don't like her because
she
jilted me?”

“I don't know, Blake. Is it? You refuse to talk to me about it. If there's another reason why the two of you broke off the engagement, won't you tell me?”

Rhonda was beginning to regret eavesdropping. The rock in the pit of her stomach told her she'd overheard too much.
Engaged!

“Because,” he said stiffly, “that was in the past. And it does no good to dredge it up.”

“Then let it stay in the past.” His mother's voice softened. “Forgive each other and move on.”

“I
have
moved on.”

“With Rhonda?”

Was that a note of derision she heard? Rhonda tensed. More importantly, was he going to screw this up? Because of course, the woman would want her son to be involved with someone from his own class. Someone who also had a title. Not her.

“Rhonda and I are friends. Good friends. A . . . dramatic event brought us together and it made us close. But that's it. She doesn't care for me. Just today she threatened to murder me.”

“No doubt with good reason,” Lady Helen said, surprising Rhonda.

She smiled. It would appear his mother knew him well.

“No doubt,” Blake agreed. “Why have you summoned me? What is it you expect me to do to help Colin?”

“Have a baby.”

R
honda clamped a hand over her mouth before she gave herself away. Looking upward, she shook her head. If this was God's way of getting back at her, it wasn't funny.

“There must be an heir. The title will disappear and our ancestral home will no longer belong to the family. And if not you, your grandmother will continue to pester Colin, putting a further strain on his marriage. If you have a child, the pressure is off him and you can provide for the upkeep of this house.”

Rhonda rubbed her flat belly. She could be carrying that heir. Her child could grow up not wanting for anything. Except a mother who wanted to be a mother. Loving parents trumped money.

“You know damn well Colin has his pride. He'd never allow me to do that. Would you risk his resigning the title?”

“Colin can be made to see reason,” she argued.

“He's worked too hard to be self-sufficient. He won't accept handouts. And if I inherit, he might make good on his threat. I know he doesn't see it that way. He thinks he'd be acting honorably but that honor could cost him the wife you so adamantly proclaim loves him.”

“She
wouldn't
do that. And the Dukes of Oakley hold a place in Scottish history. To throw all they accomplished away because
you
want no part of it is wrong. This is your legacy, that of your children and their children's legacy.”

She heard Blake groan and wished she could see the expression on his face. Was he giving in? Did he agree with his mother? Or was he becoming exasperated by her demands?

“Blake, Colin loves his wife. She is everything to him. If he loses her . . . it could destroy him.”

“Open your eyes, Mother. If Colin
doesn't
inherit, he will lose her. She's a cold-hearted, calculating bitch who only married Colin for the title and his wealth.”

His sister-in-law, his ex-fiancée, hadn't married Colin for love? She
was
a bitch.

“I see you
haven't
forgiven her.”

Not once in all the weeks they were together had Rhonda seen evidence that Blake was pining over another woman. He spoke fondly of his brother, so there was no bitterness there. Wouldn't he resent Colin if Blake still had feelings for Sarah? No, Blake disliked her because he believed she married Colin for the wrong reasons. He was pissed, not jealous.

He didn't give his mother's comment a reply. “Are you really asking me to find a wife and produce an heir? That would make you as ridiculous as Grandmother.”

“No.” She exhaled loudly. “It's not the same. But if you inherit the money, Oakley Manor will be secure. It will be your son's legacy. That would alleviate the stress on your brother.”

“I'm telling you, Sarah will leave Colin if he doesn't inherit.”

“She won't. I'm telling
you
she loves him. I just thought if you had a child, then the burden would be off them. You'd see that this house was maintained.”

She seemed confident in Sarah's love, but Blake's next words clearly said he didn't agree.

“Mother, and please don't take this the wrong way, I mean no disrespect, but take your head out of your arse. She's a gold-digging bitch who will break his heart. You want to help Colin? Find him a new wife.”

Rhonda left then, tiptoeing slowly into the hallway and returning to the foyer. She could understand a mother wanting to protect a son, a brother protecting a brother. But Colin was a big boy. What made her more curious was what she hadn't heard. Was this the reason Blake didn't do long term? He wanted to ensure Sarah didn't leave Colin? So why couldn't Colin protect himself? Also, if she'd had any thoughts about telling Blake she might be pregnant, they were gone.

* * *

Blake had told Rhonda dinner was never casual at Oakley Manor. What did “never casual” mean? Thinking she couldn't go wrong with the little black dress, she chose the one someone had packed. She slipped on the black pumps and added a simple pearl bracelet she'd found among other jewelry in a smaller bag inside the suitcase and headed downstairs, fingers crossed she wouldn't make a fool of herself.

Unsure as to which direction to head, her confusion must have shown, as a uniformed servant approached.

“The family is in the Great Room.”

“Ah, thank you. And where might that be? Back home I only have a mediocre room at best.”

“Yes, miss,” he said, turning to escort her down one of the halls.

As stony faced as he was, Rhonda swore she saw the corners of his mouth kick up. She guessed grandma didn't approve of joking with the help.

She entered the room and tried desperately not to look like a peon as she forced her mouth shut. This room predated the others she'd seen by at least two centuries. The elaborate hammer-beam ceiling had to be fifteenth century. An ornate medieval stone fireplace, large enough to hold a baseball team, heated the room. Rhonda felt sorry for whoever had to clean the three massive iron chandeliers hanging at least twenty feet in the air. The sheer size of the room was ridiculous. . . and awesome. This was “not casual”?

“There she is.” Lady Helen was the first to see her.

Blake stood and came toward her, her heartbeat kicking up a notch. The last time she'd seen him in a suit had been the tux for Maggie's wedding. She'd nearly forgotten how good he could look all decked out—nearly. Tonight he wore a blue Armani, with matching tie and silver blue shirt. If that didn't make a woman want to tear his clothes off, she was blind.

“You look lovely.” His politeness was a contradiction to the lecherous leer on his face. He truly was the cad his mother had accused him of being.

“Thanks, you too.”
An understatement
. “Nice room,” she whispered.

“One of many. Unfortunately, in the fifteenth century, size mattered.”

Rhonda refused to take the bait and gave him her best
you're not funny
glare.

Blake shrugged. “Have to amuse myself somehow. I'm sorry, but father left for London. You might not meet him on this trip. He's trying to find another way to contest the will.”

This
trip? She brushed it off as a slip of the tongue.

“What are you two whispering about?” his grandmother called out.

“Nothing of consequence,” Blake replied without turning to address her. “Come.” He held out his arm.

She took it, assuming this was acceptable behavior and not another attempt at screwing up their deal. “Wow, that was almost civil.”

“Blame my mother,” he replied, leading her into the massive room.

Seated on a chocolate-colored leather sofa were unmistakably Blake's twin and his stunning wife. The brothers resembled each other, but she was thankful she could tell them apart. Could the world handle two such beautiful men?

Colin was more handsome than beautiful. The men shared their mother's sparkling eyes, but she remembered Blake's hair as lighter. But who knew? Blake was quite adept with hair dye. His wife could have passed for Nicole Kidman's twin—after Tom Cruise. The actress had always been beautiful, but after the drama of her divorce, she'd become an iconic beauty, a woman who, like Sarah, seemed to have the world at her feet.

Blake introduced them. “This sod,” he indicated his brother “is my brother, Colin, the seventeenth Duke of Oakley. And beside him is his wife, the Duchess.”

If Sarah was offended by the flippant introduction, she didn't let on. Instead, she extended her hand, or rather four fingers. “We've never met any of Blake's
co-workers
. We certainly never thought to meet one so pretty.”

She appeared intrigued by Blake's coming home with a woman and genuine in her compliment. Who did she think she was kidding? Rhonda couldn't help but notice the pendant around Sarah's neck. At least three inches and encrusted with diamonds, it resembled the blade of a sword. But the sharp edges on the piece didn't come close to the woman's cutting blue eyes. Rhonda returned the fake smile. “Nice to meet you too, your Grace. That's a lovely pendant.” Sooner or later she was going to mess up the title thing, but for now, Rhonda thought she'd gotten it right.

“Thank you.” She brushed her fingers over it, oddly protective. “Colin surprised me last year for our anniversary,” she said, shifting her attention to Blake.

Someone could slice the tension between these two with a plastic knife.

Rhonda reached out and shook hands with Colin, who strangely remained seated. “Nice job,” she said, cringing, when she realized she'd let them distract her and she'd forgotten to add his title. That was going to start sounding really dumb soon. “Er, your Grace?” Did one curtsey to a seated person?

“Please call me Colin, and thank you. Sarah got me that.” He pointed to the ghastly mounted stag's head over the fireplace. “She's an excellent shot.”

Was it rude to gag? Rhonda forced herself to smile. “It's impressive.” Afraid the woman would see just how impressive Rhonda thought it was, she avoided eye contact with Sarah.

“And my wife is right,” Colin continued, giving his wife such a loving smile that any woman would be envious. “Blake never brings anyone home. It would be a shame to scare you off with all these formalities.”

She heard a snort from their grandmother, who was seated to Colin's left, in a gorgeous chair that Rhonda was certain was an original Chippendale.

“Actually, he's doing me a favor. I've always wanted to see Scotland.”

Colin nodded with genuine interest. She hadn't lied. She'd always wanted to travel.

But something didn't feel right. Sarah was easy. She saw Blake as a threat, ergo Rhonda could also be a threat. But Colin? Wasn't it bad manners not to stand when a woman came into a room? Back home, she might be lucky to get a wave from a guy just before he plunked his ass in a chair. But here, in this aristocratic family?

“Make sure he takes you to McDonough's Pub. It's a lot more fun than drafty castles.”

“Colin,” the dowager chastised, “the last thing this family needs is yet another incident at the hands of your brother.”

“She does realize I'm in the room?” Blake asked his mother who had remained standing by the fire. “She hasn't gone entirely bonkers, has she?”

“You can insult me all you want. 'Tis you who has embarrassed the family,” the old lady said in her defense.

“Mother, that was more than ten years ago,” said Lady Helen. “Can you not let it go?”

“Oh, I see.” Clearly she didn't. “I must let it go, but it's perfectly fine if he insults me?”

“No, it is not. Blake, hold your tongue,” Lady Helen chastised.

Blake didn't look happy about being reprimanded, but said nothing.

“Rhonda, can Giles get you something?” Lady Helen asked. “A glass of wine, perhaps?”

Giles, she assumed, was the uniformed dude with the gloved hands. How many servants did they have?

“Soda water, Giles, please, and a slice of lemon,” Blake answered for her.

She was going to smack him. No way in hell was he not doing this on purpose. Ordering her a drink wouldn't necessarily look like they were more than friends, but add it to the hand holding and telling his mother he'd told her everything, and no one would believe they were just friends. Blake did a good job of avoiding eye contact, proving her suspicions were not unfounded. Was he trying to make Sarah jealous?

The woman was the epitome of the kind of lady she'd expected Blake to date. Blond and beautiful, sophisticated and polished enough to have been born with a silver spoon jammed in her mouth. So why had they broken up? She doubted Colin had anything to do with it. Rhonda took the drink from Giles and caught Sarah giving her the stink eye. Was it possible the woman still had feelings for Blake?
Had
there been some kind of love triangle? The unanswered questions were driving her crazy.

Luckily, the pre-dinner conversation pretty much ignored her as the brothers played catch-up. Funny, she didn't see Colin as the weak man who wouldn't be able to handle his wife leaving him. He appeared as confident and capable as his twin. The dowager took no more potshots at Blake, but rather had turned her evil, assessing eyes to Rhonda, who did her best to look invisible.

“Dinner is served,” said yet another servant.

“Excellent, I'm famished.” Sarah, the first to rise, smoothed imaginary wrinkles from her expensive fit and flare peach evening dress, a color Rhonda wouldn't have expected someone with such pale skin to be able to pull off. But Sarah did. One more reason to hate her.

Rhonda remained seated as the others rose, all except Colin. And she began to suspect she understood the reason why Lady Helen was protective of her son. Could Colin not walk? Was that why Sarah leaving would destroy him? She waited and watched as he braced his hand on an arm of the sofa and pushed himself to his feet. She let out her breath. She'd been wrong. Then he took his first step and then another, the movement jerky, awkward. He couldn't bend his knees.

She stood, embarrassed to see Blake catch her staring at Colin's legs. He gave an almost imperceptible shrug, his smile apologetic. They met halfway.

“I'll tell you about it later,” he whispered, escorting her out to the dining room.

But it wasn't a dining room. It was a dining hall, big enough to host at least sixty. In the center was a cherry table, capable of seating thirty but set only for their group. On either side of the row of dishes were two tall candelabras lit up with six candles each. There was enough glam on the table to rival Vegas. She didn't want to guess at how old the plates were.