She couldn’t sit in the ladies’ room much longer or Nathan would wonder what was wrong. She forced herself to stand up even though her knees felt wobbly. As she searched for her courage, Nathan’s words echoed through her mind. She’d given him things he hadn’t gotten from anyone else. The knowledge sent a surge of reinforcing strength up her backbone.
She smoothed the exquisite blue lace of her dress down over her hips. No stupid male bet was going to keep her from having her Cinderella moment. She would admire all the beautiful clothes, enjoy every bite of gourmet food, and tuck away memories of her conversations with all the famous people. Taking one last look in the mirror, Chloe walked out of the ladies’ room and into the glittering crowd.
Although it was well after midnight, Nathan leaned on the railing of the terrace, gazing across the Hudson. The big river reflected the lights from both shores while a few sparkling stars managed to compete with the million-kilowatt glow. A sharp, chilly breeze flattened his shirt against his chest, making him shudder.
He stared into the night, knowing Chloe was there across the river, tucked into her bed. Would she dream of him, or would the distance he felt widening between them tonight send her dreams in another direction?
He gripped the cold metal of the railing as he frowned. Something had happened during the evening to make her pull away from him. All during dinner, he’d caught her slanting looks at him. And they weren’t the kinds of glances that said she was thinking about sex in the Rolls. Although when they finally got away from the damned party, she had responded to his touch with an almost desperate abandon that had surprised him. She’d seemed to be channeling some pent-up emotion into making love. He just couldn’t figure out what that emotion was.
Miller and Archer had stuck to their promises, carrying on perfectly normal conversations with Chloe. She’d held her own with them, even though on the way to the dinner she’d confessed to being nervous. An odd sense of pride swelled inside him. His Chloe didn’t let anyone intimidate her.
Including him.
She still hadn’t invited him to dinner with her grandmother. He respected her love and concern for Grandmillie, but it was putting a roadblock in their relationship. There had to be a way to get around it.
His smile faded as a realization hit him: Chloe didn’t want to get around it. She showed no signs of frustration at having to snatch a few hours here and there with him. He was the one who kept badgering her for more time together.
Straightening away from the railing, Nathan paced back and forth across the tiled floor, reliving every minute of the last two weeks with Chloe. He examined each encounter, allocating words and actions into imaginary columns marked “she cares” or “she doesn’t.”
He stopped as something twisted in his chest. The final tally was inconclusive.
Pivoting on his heel, he walked back inside. There was one thing he could do to tip the scales in his favor.
Nathan walked down the hallway, trying to remember where the family sword was stored. Chloe wanted him to bring it to the wedding as a peace offering to his father. The irony of that was not lost on him.
He paced through the downstairs rooms, looking for the wooden case that held the antique artifact. Most of these rooms were used for business and charitable entertaining, so he didn’t spend much time scanning the decor. The living room, dining room, and media room were a bust. He knew it wasn’t in his office or den. That left the library, a room he’d expended some thought on setting up but then rarely occupied. As he entered, the aroma of leather and paper made him inhale in appreciation. He’d become so tied to his electronics that he’d forgotten the delights of physical books. He scanned the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, enjoying the glint of gold leaf on bindings.
And there it was, sitting in its own niche on the shelves—a simple mahogany box, long and flat with two polished brass hasps secured with matching padlocks.
The sight of it churned up a storm of emotions. His earliest memories included that wooden container. It had been kept in the family china cabinet in every house they lived in. His father would open the cabinet’s glass doors and lift out the box, placing it reverently on the dining room table. When Nathan was a little boy, he’d stood on a chair as his father unlocked the small padlocks and opened the hinged lid to reveal the sword and scabbard nestled in the custom-made compartments lined with blue-black velvet. He had learned the simplest version of the sword’s story as soon as he was old enough to understand the words. As he grew older, his father added more and more detail until Nathan could repeat the sword’s entire history.