The Perfect Bride (12 page)

She was still considering the question when she reached the stairs. Preoccupied, she placed one hand on the railing.

It had barely made contact when she felt a sudden rush of motion behind her.

She didn’t get a chance to process it, to turn toward the sound.

A split second later something crashed into her back and sent her flying forward.

A startled scream—short,
shrill—tore from her mouth before her throat suddenly seized up in panic, in terror, cutting off the sound. She was launched in midair, and for an endless moment she could see the stairs stretching out below her, the bottom impossibly far away.

And then she was hurtling, plunging, tumbling downward. There wasn’t even time to throw her hands out to try to soften her landing. Before she could
raise her arms, the stairs were rushing up to meet her. She crashed hard on her right side, pain bursting in her shoulder and arm. Another scream pressed against her throat. It was cut off by the force of another blow as she continued to roll, her legs flying over her head and banging against the stairs. Explosions of pain erupted in her back, her hip, her arms and legs as she plunged down the
stairs, different parts of her body striking the hard stone and sharp edges over and over again.

Finally, blessedly, she tumbled over one last time, crashing onto her back on the landing, every inch of her body screaming in pain.

She lay there unmoving, trying to pull in a breath, to deal with the pain, to process what had just happened.

Pushed,
she recognized faintly. Someone had
pushed her down the stairs.

That was what the feeling of force against her back had been. There’d been no cry of warning, no sound of shock after the impact, nothing to indicate this had been an accident.

No. It had been deliberate. Someone had purposely shoved her down the stairs.

Staring blindly above her, she saw something enter her range of vision. Something at the top of the
stairs.

Blinking rapidly, she tried to focus on the object, to see what it was.

It was a person, she registered, her heart pounding harder. The person who’d pushed her?

The figure gradually took form, the face becoming clearer, revealing—

Meredith,
Jillian realized. The breath caught in her throat, surprise and confusion and wariness churning inside her.

Meredith stood
at the top of the stairs. She made no sound, made no move to come down. She simply stood there, staring down at her.

Jillian peered closer, willing her eyes to focus, desperately trying to read the woman’s face.

But no matter how hard Jillian tried, she couldn’t read Meredith’s expression, couldn’t tell if she was peering down at her with shock that she’d fallen—or disappointment that
it hadn’t been so much worse....

Chapter Eleven

“Oh, my God.”

Her attention fixed on the woman at the top of the stairs, Jillian heard the voice as though from a great distance. She vaguely recognized it as a man’s, ragged with shock and concern.

And then Adam was there, leaning over her, cutting Meredith off from view.

“Jillian, are you all right?”

Still dazed, she had to force her mind to
focus on the question. Was she all right? “I—I’m not sure. I think so.”

“What happened?”

Someone pushed me down the stairs.

Jillian swallowed hard, trying to think of what to say, not sure how much she should reveal, especially when the person she suspected was—

“She must have fallen down the stairs.”

Meredith,
Jillian registered, her gut tightening with fresh suspicion.
It was Meredith who answered, her voice rapidly coming closer. Jillian heard footsteps approaching quickly on the stairs.

Meredith, who’d been standing there, looking down at her.

Meredith, who’d pushed her?

“Did you see it happen?” Adam asked his sister without looking at her.

“No. I just heard the noise, and when I got to the top of the stairs, I saw her at the bottom.”

Jillian couldn’t see the woman with Adam in front of her. She wished she could, wished she had a chance to try to read her expression up close. It was impossible to tell anything from her voice. Meredith sounded believably horrified.

Grimacing, Adam nodded tightly and refocused on Jillian. “How do you feel? Are you in pain? Do you need me to call a doctor?”

The words drew her focus
back to him. And in spite of the terror that had gripped her only moments earlier and the suspicion still racing through her mind, she felt heat rush through her at the open concern in his voice. His dark eyes, his chiseled features, usually so cold and remote, were softened with worry. For her.

It was the nicest he’d ever sounded when speaking to her, she realized with a flicker of amusement.
If this was what it took, maybe she should have gotten shoved down the stairs long ago.

As she watched, the concern on his face deepened, and he went pale. “Meredith, call 911. I think she might have a concussion....”

Jillian flinched, and she realized she hadn’t answered him, had simply been staring helplessly into his eyes. No wonder he thought she had a concussion.

“No, really,
it’s not that bad.” She started to push herself up on her elbows. “I’m pretty sure nothing’s broken.” She flexed her legs and feet tentatively to test the statement. There was definite soreness, but no real pain to indicate any serious damage.

“Still, we should be careful. Let’s get you back to your room and we’ll see how bad it is.”

Before she could protest, he swept her into his arms
in one smooth motion as though she weighed nothing at all. She fell against his chest, the wall of his torso hard and solid as stone against her body. The arms around her were strong yet gentle, holding her close with the lightest of touches. She drew in a breath at the sudden surprise of his nearness, only to pull in the scent of him so deeply it seemed to fill all her senses. She almost felt
light-headed from it.

Rising to his feet, he turned and began to quickly climb the stairs. She knew she should protest, tell him this wasn’t necessary, that she was capable of walking. Instead, she found her head falling back against his shoulder instinctively, fitting as naturally as if it belonged there. Her eyes drifted shut almost automatically, as the feeling of being in his arms, surrounded
by him, sank in. The past few days had been so hard. Having to keep on her guard, having to tell so many lies and not being able to trust anyone. For the first time since she’d arrived here, it was possible to forget all of that, if only for a moment. Who she was. Who he was. She sank into the feeling of being held against him, the safety in his arms. At that moment, nothing else existed
in the world.

He suddenly slowed, and she knew before she opened her eyes that they’d arrived at her bedroom. He leaned forward and opened the door with one hand, the movement so careful she was barely jostled.

Moments later, he was lowering her onto the mattress. Once she was sitting upright, propped up against the pillows, he eased his arms out from under her.

To her surprise,
he didn’t move away immediately. Instead, he slid onto the edge of the bed and sat facing her. He peered at her closely, clearly looking for any signs of injury. “Are you sure you’re all right? I think I’d feel better if we at least had you checked out by a doctor.”

She gave her head a vigorous shake. “Really, I’m fine. A little sore, but thankfully no worse than that.” Given some of the
twinges she was feeling, she wouldn’t be surprised if she had some bruises the next day. She figured she was better off not mentioning that. She didn’t want him to use any injuries as an excuse to make her leave, and she wasn’t going anywhere. Not without answers, especially after this.

“Can I at least get you something?” another voice asked.

Meredith stood near the door, her body rigid
with tension.

Jillian studied her carefully. It was the first chance she’d had to do it since her fall, since she’d spotted the woman looking down at her, her expression unreadable.

Meredith clasped her hands in front of herself, gripping them so tightly her knuckles were white. Jillian wouldn’t have been surprised if she started wringing them. Was it the woman’s usual nervousness, or
something more? Jillian simply couldn’t tell, and she choked back a frustrated groan.

“Maybe some pain relievers?” Meredith suggested when Jillian didn’t say anything.

Jillian did have some in her bag and wouldn’t have minded taking a few at the moment, but wasn’t about to admit it. “I’m fine,” she said again.

“How about some tea?” Meredith murmured.

Jillian almost told her
it wasn’t necessary, but she suddenly wasn’t sure how comfortable she was around the woman, either, not with so many questions whispering through her mind. “That would be nice.”

“I’ll have Rosie send some up.” With a tight nod, Meredith turned and hurried from the room.

If Adam noticed anything strange about Meredith’s behavior, he didn’t show it. He turned his attention back to Jillian.
“Are you sure I can’t talk you into seeing that doctor?”

“I’m sure,” she said firmly. “It’s really not that bad.”

She braced herself for his response, not expecting him to let her off the hook that easily.

He still managed to surprise her. He reached out and gently took her arm, lifting it from her lap and pulling it toward him.

His hands were warm against her skin, his fingers
long and lean. He turned her arm over lightly, looking closely at her skin as though examining it for any signs of cuts or bruises. “How does that feel?” he murmured.

“Fine,” she said, her voice sounding breathless to her ears.

He suddenly stopped, as though finally realizing how intimately he was touching her, and raised his head to meet her eyes.

Still he didn’t let her go, his
hold on her wrist gentle but unmistakable.

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

Finally, slowly, he lowered her arm to the bed. It didn’t matter. She still undeniably felt his touch on her skin. “You gave us a real scare there,” he said.

“Sorry about that.”

“So what happened? Did you trip on the carpet? Were you not paying attention to where you were walking? Damn it, you have to be
careful—”

She cut him off. “I didn’t fall. I was pushed.”

Adam didn’t respond at first, simply staring at her in disbelief. “What are you talking about?”

“Before I went down the stairs, I felt hands on my back, felt someone shove me hard. I was pushed.”

“That’s absurd. Why would someone do that?”

“I don’t know. You’d have to ask them.”

“All right,” he said, his tone
an annoying mix of patient and patronizing. “Did you see anyone?”

Jillian hesitated for a second, unsure whether she wanted to admit what she’d seen or deal with the conflict that would inevitably arise. At the same time, she was curious what his reaction would be.

Pushing her misgivings away, she plowed forward. “After I fell, when I looked up I did see someone standing at the top of
the stairs.”

“Who?”

“Meredith.”

He went completely still, his expression going blank. “What exactly are you suggesting?”

“I don’t know exactly,” she hedged, reading his face as closely as possible for any hint of what he was thinking. But his eyes remained as guarded as ever, his features revealing nothing. “Only that I know I was pushed, and Meredith was at the top of the
stairs.”

“You’re saying you think Meredith pushed you,” he said, his voice thick with accusation.

“Why would she do that?” she asked carefully, turning his question back on him.

“She wouldn’t,” he shot back. “If she had, she certainly wouldn’t have stood there watching you fall.”

She might if she wanted to make sure I didn’t get up again,
Jillian thought, biting her tongue
to keep from saying it aloud.

“She clearly heard you scream and came to see what happened,” he continued.

“I guess that makes sense,” Jillian said softly, not sure what to believe. It was possible. But was it the truth?

Adam obviously didn’t miss the halfheartedness of her agreement. His face darkening, he abruptly pushed away from her, rising to his feet. He stood glaring down
at her, his expression rigid with controlled anger. “If you really believe someone pushed you down the stairs, then I’m sure you’ll be wanting to leave as soon as possible. No reason to stay where someone means you harm, or to bring your wedding guests to such a place.”

“Is that what you want?”

“I told you, what I want is for Meredith not to be hurt, and you seem determined to do just
that.”

“I’m only telling you what happened.”

“Really? Because it sounds like you’re making an accusation. If that’s the case, I’m not interested. You can say anything you want about me, but don’t ever say a word about my sister.”

She stared at him, torn between admiration of his loyalty to his family and suspicion of what it meant. Meredith was an adult. Why was he so protective
of her? What was he hiding?

She was still contemplating the question an instant later when he turned on his heel and strode toward the door.

Another figure was standing there, she immediately noticed. Ed filled the doorway, holding a tray in his hands, his usual smile nowhere in sight. His eyes shifted between her and Adam. She wondered how much he’d heard.

Seemingly recognizing
his boss’s anger, he shuffled to the side just inside the door, allowing Adam to brush by him without a word.

“Is that for me?” Jillian asked.

“Meredith said to bring you tea, and Rosie thought you could use some food. Sounded like you might not be eating enough, getting dizzy and all.”

Jillian fought the urge to frown. Is that what everyone was thinking—she’d simply fallen? She
supposed it made sense if you didn’t know any better, which she did.

She managed to muster a smile. “That’s very kind of her. Thank you for bringing it.”

She expected him to move forward and bring the tray to her. Instead, he continued standing there, eyeing her with an expression she couldn’t quite read.

“Is something wrong?” she asked.

“Shouldn’t talk bad about a man’s sister,”
he said. “Family means everything.”

“Of course it does,” Jillian agreed cautiously. “Do you have a sister?”

He hesitated briefly. “I used to.”

The admission seemed to spur some reaction inside him, because he suddenly dropped his eyes and started forward. Without looking at her, he moved to the bedside table and carefully set the tray on top of it, then turned and walked from the
room.

Strange,
Jillian thought, as she had so many times since she’d arrived at Sutton Hall. She half wondered where Ed’s sister was now, only to dismiss the idea a moment later with a shake of her head.

Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she rose to her feet, ignoring the twinges of pain in her legs as she made her way to the door. It wasn’t Ed’s sister she was interested in.
It was Adam’s. And it was long past time she got some answers.

* * *

J
ILLIAN
FOUND
M
EREDITH
in the dining room, sitting on one side of the massive table. She made for a lonely figure, dwarfed by the size of both the table and the room around her. She might as well have been the only person in the world.

She acted like it, too, not looking up when Jillian entered, her attention fixed
on whatever she was writing on the paper in front of her. The pencil in her hand scratched across the paper in furious strokes, the noise the only sound in the room.

Jillian opened her mouth to announce her presence, only to ease it shut again. Curious what the woman was focused on so intently, Jillian moved closer, keeping her footsteps quiet on the floor’s thin rugs.

She finally came
close enough to see that Meredith wasn’t writing. She was drawing. The half-formed image continued to develop before Jillian’s eyes, as Meredith’s pencil slid over the page, filling in details, shading in nuance.

It was a bride and groom, dancing together in the middle of a ballroom Jillian recognized as the one upstairs. In a few deft strokes, Meredith had managed to depict the space so
that it was easily identifiable, though the room in the drawing was decorated for a party, not empty like the one upstairs. The couple was holding each other tightly, positioned so that only the bride’s face was visible. Beaming, she tilted her head back, her eyes closed, her mouth open as though she was laughing. Jillian could almost feel it herself, feel the joy shining from the bride’s face in
the way Meredith had drawn it.

“Is this what you wanted to show me in the ballroom?”

Meredith started, her head shooting up. At the same time, her pencil slipped, scrawling a jagged line across the page. Jillian instantly felt a pang of regret at the sight of that dark, errant line marring the image. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.”