“A gentleman?” Eve replied with a smirk. I shrugged and descended the stairs.
“You couldn’t have said anything prior to me climbing the stairs, Brooks?” I teased. Brooks stood there, emotionless. “Or not.”
“Who did you invite?” Eve asked, excitement in her voice.
“I didn’t invite anyone.” I headed for the door, placing my ear against it.
“Does the other voice sound familiar to you?” Eve whispered.
“Can’t hear through this thick door,” I mumbled.
“One way to find out.”
I placed my hand on the knob and pushed the door open. Locating Papa immediately, I saw him behind his desk holding a glass of brandy, and his apprehensive eyes locked with mine. A man sat casually in front of him, slim build, sandy blond hair, and tattered clothes. He had his leg propped on one of his knees while he slouched in the chair.
“Papa,” I coaxed, walking deeper into the room. Judging by the look in Papa’s eyes, something wasn’t right, and my defenses went up. Papa’s mouth opened slightly, but he closed it when the stranger stood, towering over me. He turned to walk in my direction, and I clenched my fists. My guard was certainly up, and I blamed it all on that night at the orphanage.
The man stepped closer. He looked tired, displaying a few days’ growth of beard beneath a pointed nose. My gaze travelled up, noticing lake blue eyes and that’s when I saw it—a pale scar hovered over his left eyebrow.
I stilled. I remembered that scar. I was the one who had caused that familiar mark, over a decade ago. It was impossible. There was no way he could be here. He wouldn’t just show up, unannounced or without warning.
Yes, he would.
I forced myself to not daze off into memories. The man, who now stood only feet away from me, smiled, and my eyes narrowed.
“George?” I choked out in a low voice.
George
Chapter 2
My name was all she could muster. I’d never rendered Ava Barlow speechless in my life. And, at one point in time, she had been in my whole history. The blonde next to her stepped closer, offering silent comfort. Ava wore a familiar expression on her face: furrowed eyebrows, wrinkled nose, and a glare that could possibly shoot daggers—she was pissed. I was a ghost from her past, coming back to haunt her, and I knew I wouldn’t be walking into a happy welcoming.
Ava was all grown up, no longer the scrawny little girl who got my ass into trouble constantly. I grinned; she had sprouted into a lovely young woman. I searched for the freckles that she used to have an abundance of and found only a few scattered upon her nose. Her clenching fists halted my appraisal.
“What are you doing here?” she gritted out.
“I came to see you,” I answered.
“Did you?” she sneered, her cheeks turning pink and her nostrils flaring. I braced myself for the fury of her temper.
“Of course I did,” I quipped gingerly.
“Ava, darling…” Lord Barlow said behind me, his voice soft. I’d heard that tone many times before.
“Papa, would you and Eve give us just a few moments? This won’t take long, I promise,” she replied, her eyes never leaving mine.
“Now Ava,” Lord Barlow cautioned. “Remember he is a guest, an old friend.”
“Oh, I remember, Papa.”
Lord Barlow opened his mouth, but Ava’s petite friend crossed the room and took his arm, escorting him out. When the door closed, silent tension filled the air. I felt as though my breathing was blaring through the room. She stood as still as a statue, scrutinizing me under her intense gaze.
Ava slowly crossed her arms. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“You know exactly why I’m here.”
“Actually, I don’t,” she replied. “Why are you here, George?”
“Why don’t we sit down, and I can—”
“I want you out,” Ava snapped.
“Calm down,” I replied, holding my hands up in silent defense. “No need to rattle your temper.”
“Apparently, I need to rattle your hearing because I said get out,” she fumed.
I blew out a heavy sigh. “I knew you wouldn’t make this easy for me. You never made things easy.”
Ava pursed her lips. “Oh, like you made it easy for you when you broke our engagement without warning. No note saying, ‘Oh, by the way, I was trying to keep you safe, Ava, dear.’ Then I don’t see you for years, George. Were you bored one day, and said to yourself, ‘Oh, I think it would be a good time to go visit my friend Ava.’ Just leave.”
“First of all, it was a fake engagement—”
“I know what it was!” Ava shouted. “I don’t need a reminder, George. Trust me, I was able to think about it every day, for four years, at an orphanage.”
“I’m aware of where you were,” I said calmly, shifting to one side. One of us needed to keep our temper in check. And I sure as hell didn’t need the reminder either.
“But here you are, seven years later, stating you came here to ‘see me’? I’ve been home for three years, George. No note, no messenger, not even a damn falcon with a letter delivering any word from you. Nothing. So, what’s so damn important that you needed to make the four-day trip to ‘see me’?”
Guilt consumed me, as it had for years. I’d cut Ava off, writing the hardest letter of my life. The separation had killed me, but at least I knew it wouldn't get her murdered. I took a step forward, but she countered with a step back.
“You are still in danger,” I informed her.
“Then have your brilliant father announce a new heir to the throne. I have no need or want for it,” she spat out.
I took a deep breath. “He won’t do that. I’ve tried, many times.”
My father was a stubborn man. His mind always on the crown, and I understood that he needed to keep the best interest of the country at heart. But enlisting Ava to such danger pissed me off.
“What’s your big plan then? Send me back to the orphanage?” she asked sarcastically.
I covered my mouth to hide a smirk; she was still a smartass. “Absolutely not,” I objected. “That didn’t work last time. Nor did it tamper down your temper.” I cringed, dropping my hand.
Shouldn’t have said that.
“No,” she agreed, pausing for a moment. “It just made things worse. So, your plan backfired.”
“A lot of our plan seemed to backfire, didn’t it?”
She didn’t answer. Not only did I have to live with the mind-numbing regret of not being able to be there for her, but I was also busy keeping my ass from being murdered. In reality, keeping her away was in her best interest. It was a sacrifice that needed to be made, and I’d deal with it somehow.
“What’s wrong, George?” Ava whispered, her posture easing.
I gestured toward the sofa. “Sit down, please.” I paused. “I want to—need to—talk to you, about everything.” She didn’t hesitate to take a seat. Sitting down beside Ava, I turned to face her, my back aching from riding for the last several days.
“Three weeks ago,” I began, “I was attacked by one of my personal guards. It was another assassination attempt.” Ava’s face drained of color, and she clasped her hands together. I noticed her body stiffen, and I clenched my fists to keep from touching her. Instead, I said, “I’m okay.”
She glanced up at me. “Why didn’t you write me and tell me?”
I paused for a moment, rubbing the back of my neck. “For a week, the doctors claimed I wouldn’t make it. I had been stabbed in the chest, close to my heart, with no hope of waking up. But since I’m a stubborn bastard, I fought through, and here I am, trying to save my best friend’s life.”
Ava covered her mouth and closed her eyes tightly. Without thinking, I clasped her forearm, bringing my hand down to hers. She squeezed firmly. “Why didn’t someone let me know?” she asked, anger lacing her tone. “I should have known.”
“A message would have indicated we were still linked.”
“But you could’ve died,” Ava growled, her voice breaking.
“Ava, please, don’t cry. I’m all right.”
Head drooping, she shook it. “How many?”
“How many what?”
She looked back up at me, tears brimming her eyes. “How many times has someone tried to take your life?”