“Don’t break a nail,” I sneer. Then, when I can tell her arms are stretched out and she’s dangling, I push her fingertips with mine until she drops.
This room, like every other, has an intercom. I punch in the emergency code and reach my head of security.
“There’s a woman on the lawn. She’s tall and wearing black and just went out a window in the lion room. Kindly escort her off the property, note her company and vehicle. I don’t want to see her here again.”
“Yes. Yes sir. I do apolo—”
“Don’t worry about it.”
I let go of the intercom button, my eyes clinging to the massive lion’s head mounted on the tall wall as I turn to go. Before I find Lucy, I stop off in my library and pour and down a tall glass of scotch.
TWENTY-SIX Lucy
I see Liam disappear behind a tall wood door. It looks thick and old and fortified, like many of the downstairs doors. When I reach it, I find it locked.
I look over my shoulder, my heart pounding in my ears. One of Liam’s classmates from high school is here, and he was telling me how he and Liam used to talk about me. How they wanted to meet me after watching the show. He offered me a glass of wine and when I didn’t want any, I saw his eyes go down to my stomach.
Ugh.
I’ve only been downstairs a little shy of an hour, but I’m exhausted. My stomach hurts a little, even though I’ve sneaked a few ginger snaps from my purse. I just want to go to sleep.
Maybe it was a mistake to agree to the party. It could be going on for many more hours. Maybe I can find a nice armchair and curl up there, and Liam won’t even mind. I wonder if he’s drunk. I wonder how hard he actually parties.
I knock three times, softly. I hear heavy footfall, then the door opens about a half foot and I see his wary face. His eyes soften once they meet mine.
“Lucy.”
“It’s me. I got tired, and I saw you come in here.”
The door opens a little more. “Come in.”
He gives me a small smile before returning to the massive, throne-like chair behind his desk. He gestures to an armchair set in front of it.
“Have a seat, Miss Rhodes.”
He sinks into his chair. “How can I help you?”
I drop into the arm chair. “I’ve lost my edge. I’m so sleepy.” I stifle a yawn.
“You want to go to bed? I’m kind of tired of this myself.” His face looks tight. He looks unhappy, I realize.
“Not having a good time?”
He rubs his forehead. “Just a lot to deal with.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “I don’t like having people here. Something always winds up missing, no matter how many plain-clothes guards are in the crowd. If there’s a pariah anywhere around, you’ll find them here.”
“I’m surprised you have parties here at all.”
“I don’t. It’s Heath.”
“Does he have the ability to do that?”
“I wouldn’t ever shoot the idea down.”
He still looks unhappy. I just want to kiss those pouty lips. I walk around the desk and run my hand over the chair. “This thing is huge.” I drop down into his lap and smell alcohol. I run my hand over the light beard on his cheeks. I feel his chest rise and fall with a deep breath. “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He shuts his eyes.
I kiss his chin. “Maybe we should run away together.”
“Want to spend the night on the boat?”
“I know how much work that is. Boats are a lot of work. Maybe we should pitch a tent somewhere. Do you have one?”
He laughs. “A tent?”
“Yeah. I’ve been living in Colorado, remember? Tents are something everybody has.”
His mouth curls slowly up. “You want to spend the night in a tent?”
“I do.”
“I’ve got a tent.”
“Do you?” I can’t help running my hand between his legs, where there is a definitely a tent.
“Mm.” His eyes shut.
“I want to see this tent. I want to go inside it and then see what’s inside this tent.” I fondle him, and Liam groans. “Christ, Lucy.”
When his eyes peek up at mine, I grin. “You like it.”
“Yeah.”
He sets me on my feet and stands up. “Let’s get going,” he smiles. He laughs, hands on my shoulders, looking down at his pants, which are very much still tented. “Tell me something terrible, Lucy.”
The first thing that comes to mind, I push aside. I glance around the room.
“There’s a moose head on your wall. A moose that was killed, his head was hollowed out and stuffed, and now his decaying head is on your wall.”
He laughs, turning to look at said head. “I guess that’s true.”
“Did you kill him? Are you the murderer, Liamie?” I slap his cheek lightly.
“Did you just call me Liamie?”
I shrug. “It works.”
His hand catches mine. “You’re a strange one, Lucy Rhodes.”
“I know.” I smile. He smiles back. I look down at him.
“Quit looking. That just makes it worse.”
“That moose probably had a wife, you know.” After a few more seconds, Liam laughs again and shakes his head, and we’re ready to go.
We pass a bunch of people on the route upstairs, and Liam is polite and friendly to all of them. He introduces me a time or two, and other times, people know who I am.
Upstairs, he uses the intercom to tell someone to get the camping stuff ready for us and put it in the Jeep. Then he calls the kitchen, asking for a basket of food and a case of bottled water, also to be put in the Jeep.
“Do you want to ride, though?” he says when he turns toward me. “I can have the Jeep driven.”
“Hmmmm. Horses at night could be fun.”
He calls back and relays that, then has the horses saddled.
I can’t help laughing.
“What?” he asks, thumping me.
“It’s a hard life, coordinating so many things.”
He ruffles my hair, and I screech. “I’m all pretty. Don’t mess me up!”
“I couldn’t mess you up if I tried.”
We kiss for a few long, hot moments, where my heart races and blood rushes through my body. I wrap my arms around him.
“God. I’m getting hooked on this.”
“Me too,” he says against my hair. He hugs me tightly. “Want to go get changed?”
“Yeah. Is it cold out?”
“Maybe a little. Wear a jacket, or I’ll get you one.”
I return to his room half an hour later, dressed in riding boots, suede riding pants, and a plum-colored wool Burberry cloak that seems perfect for a nighttime horseback ride.
He grins as soon as he sees me. He’s got on old-looking, faded jeans with a hole in one knee, hiking boots, and a thick, gray sweater.
He grabs his pack and mine, and I walk out of his room, starting down the stairs. He pulls me another way.
“We’ll take the stairs for the help. When I was little, we used to call them the ‘help me’ stairs, because they’re so steep.”
We go outside, where people are mingling on the lawn. We cut into the shadows, into a large garden, then veer through a grove, toward the stables.
“Why are they so far from the castle? Is it a form of fire protection?”
“It is.”
I watch him pack Pegasus, then we both get on and we are riding in the moonlight, over green, green grass, the smell of the sea in my nose, a gentle wind on my cheeks.
“This is amazing!”