That fateful year, two days before Christmas, his mother developed a migraine headache and took to her bed. She died in her sleep on Christmas Eve. A brain tumor, they later discovered.
He punched Redial.
“That was quick.”
“My mother died of a brain tumor. Is Thom’s condition hereditary?”
“Haven’t got a clue. You’ll have to ask him. Are you worried for yourself?”
“Fricking hell, no. It’s the good who die young. I’ll live to a ripe old age.”
“You’re wallowing, Terry. Stop. You’re not the evil twin. There’s only one person to blame for your situation, and we both know who that is.”
“And I’m the untarnished one in all this? No, Geoff, that won’t cut it. I’m as much to blame as my sick stepmother. We’ve had this argument one too many times. Later.”
Terry clicked the mouse and clamped his lips together, fighting the urge to bellow and howl at God, at fate, at himself. He thought of all the letters he’d started over the years during drunken bouts of self-pitying melancholy. Abject, apologetic missives to his twin that never saw a postmark.
Thomas could die.
And they’d spent more than a decade apart. Wasted years. He slapped the hard wooden desk, caught the sharp edge of it, and welcomed the pain. Once, he and Thomas had been so close, they could sit in silence in the same room for hours, and when one spoke, the other knew exactly what he would say. He wanted that intimacy back, wanted Thomas’s forgiveness, wanted to shed the self-loathing he’d worn for so long.
What if Thom died?
He clamped his eyelids shut, but moisture pooled out the corners anyway. Not going to happen, not if he had any say. His jaw working, Terry stabbed a brass letter opener into a fat Post-it pad, splitting it down the middle. For long moments, he stared at the yellow vulgarity, gathering self-control. He clicked the Call icon on the screen.
“Can you forward the surgeon’s contact data?”
“Already in your in-box. What are you going to do?”
“Have him checked out. If Thom’ll let me.”
“I ran him through our system. He’s clean, no security risks, no bad habits. Excellent reputation. I also sent you all the research I did after I met with Thom.”
“Thanks. I owe you one. Out of curiosity, where is my dear stepmother?”
“Tooling around the Far East. Last I heard she was in Singapore shopping.”
“That bitch will outlive us all. Put a watch on her, Geoff. I don’t want her showing up and disturbing Thom at a crucial time. Too bad we can’t arrange a fatal accident.”
“Don’t be an ass and don’t do anything rash. There’s a lot of room for a lifetime of regret with this situation.”
“Too right.” Terry clicked off and ran the autoerase function, wiping out any trace of either call.
Glancing at the LCD monitor, he noticed the time on the PC clock. Dinnertime. Tonight’s meal had been prepared by Monaco’s Hotel de Paris’s Grill Room restaurant and Austen, the bosun, had arranged for a buffet-style presentation. Terry heaved a hefty sigh, slid out of the chair, and headed toward the main deck.
From the din of voices coming from above, dinner would be under the moon and stars. Sure enough, two adjacent tables bordering the ship’s stern showcased knives, forks, and pale porcelain. A cloudless sky punctuated by slivers of winking stars and an eternal midnight Mediterranean formed the backdrop for lemon-edged china, glistening sterling cutlery, and sparkling crystal filled with a rich burgundy wine.
His gaze gravitated to Su-Lin seated at the farthest table, and Austen at her side. Terry choked back a vicious curse when he realized only one seat stood empty. Wonderful. Three hours seated between Emma Lockheed and his sodding father, with Su-Lin a table away. Life couldn’t get worse.
He hated being proved wrong.
“Punctual as always, Terrence. We’ve been waiting for over ten minutes for your vaunted presence.”
At least Father kept his voice low.
Gritting his teeth, Terry sat, whipped a white napkin onto his lap, and said, “Sorry I’m late. Dig in. Don’t wait for me. Looks great. ”
“Tight ship you run, Terrence. Not even a toast to welcome all aboard? Perhaps, as I hold the reins for the next few weeks, I should do the honors.”
Another muttered aside, but it did the trick, Terry seethed. He knew that tone of voice. It heralded a scathing set-down. “You should know Geoff and I will sue your backside if anything untoward happens on your watch.”
“And you should know Carol-Ann’s filed for divorce.”
He couldn’t begin to think of a reply to that bald statement.
“I don’t give a fricking damn. It’s not as if the two of you ever had a real marriage.”
“I haven’t a clue as to why your brother has decided to forgive you.”
“The truth wins out. What do you want from me, Father?”
“Persuade your brother to do his duty.”
“What makes you think Thomas would listen to me? After all these years?”
“He’s throwing away three hundred years of heritage.”
“Because he won’t marry and sire a son?”
“That and because he won’t refute the rumors my wife is spreading.”
Terry’s glance flicked to Thomas. “What rumors?”
“You know exactly what I’m referring to.”
“Do I? Why don’t you have this conversation with Thomas?”
“I’ve tried.” His father’s lip curled at one corner. “Neither he nor you ever faced up to your actions. We’re all going to have to pay the price now.”
“You won’t even consider that Carol-Ann’s lying?”
“We both know she’s telling the truth on all counts. What I’m concerned about is proof. Does she have any?”
“Of what Father? My perversions, yours, or Thom’s?”
The Earl of Arran snorted, flicked his napkin, and scrunched it into a ball to the left of his plate, an unheard-of breach of earl etiquette. Shoving his chair back, he inclined his head. “Good evening.”
Terry’s gaze followed the rigid line of his father’s retreating back. Nigel Thomas Jefferson Patrick Gore never backed down, never walked away from a fight. He hadn’t assumed his bitch of a wife had proof, but had actually asked if she did. What had happened to his father’s dogmatic certainty?
He poured another a glass of red wine and took a deep swallow, swirling the liquor in his mouth and tasting the woodsy oak cask, which had housed the fine cabernet. Emma Lockheed’s throaty voice bristled into his somber thoughts.
“Jennifer had been living in a run-down house. Half the lights didn’t work. No modern appliances, not even a television. The girl had never even been on a plane.” Su-Lin’s aunt flicked a finger displaying a three-carat square diamond. “She doesn’t even know how to use a cell phone, said she didn’t need one.”
Curbing the temptation to prove her wrong and take her down a peg, Terry loaded his fork with cubed portions of the food on his plate.
“What happened to her parents?” Thomas asked.
“Her father died when Jennifer was nine or ten.”
“And her mother?”
Fine lines of exhaustion bracketed Thomas’s mouth, and his complexion appeared sallow in the soft, flickering candlelight. Terry glanced at his twin’s plate; he’d taken maybe three or four bites of the orange-glazed Cornish hen and pushed wild rice, broccoli, and carrots around the porcelain dish.
“She died a couple of months ago. That’s when we found out about Jennifer. Her mother’s lawyer contacted us.”
Even using both hands to guide his tumbler to his mouth, his twin couldn’t hide the glass’s shaky ascent. Terry stifled a wince.
“Jimmy and I are enjoying spoiling Jennifer, but as you can see, she has a lot to learn.”
Before Terry could utter a word, his twin jumped to Su-Lin’s defense.
“Her table manners are perfect,” Thomas said. “She’s lovely, poised, and charming. I fail to see what she needs to learn.”
“Isn’t it obvious? The girl has no fashion sense, she hasn’t a clue how to relate to the male gender, and her conversation is sorely lacking.”
Listening to the discussion between Emma Lockheed and his twin, Terry gained insight into the woman destined to be his new lover. He shot a glance at Su-Lin and his trapezius muscle knotted. The opposite table’s composition had altered, and not for the better.
When had Harrison changed seats? Lips compressed, he scowled when Harrison twirled a lock of Su-Lin’s inky hair around a forefinger.
She laid one almond hand on Harry’s bare forearm and laughed. A saucy little smile Terry thought she reserved for him, and only him. Catching his eye, she waved, verdant eyes twinkling and sparkling, and she spun around to face Harry fully.
They were flirting.
Jealousy battled sheer rage, his nails bit into dry palms, Terry’s lips curled into a sneer, and he stood, intent on violence.
At the same exact instant, Austen announced, “Ladies, gentlemen, dessert is served below deck in the entertainment area. I’ll lead the way.”
The bosun weaved as he stood and braced on the deck rail after stumbling into Su-Lin’s chair. Frick, how much had Austen consumed? Prone to recklessness at the best of times, Austen’d been known to play Russian roulette when skunk drunk, and he seemed intent on attaining that stage sooner rather than later.
“Terry, I’ll walk with you, shall I?”
Every instinct went on alert, and every neck hair rose, trapping a shiver down his spine. He recognized a mother-hen tone when he heard one. “Of course, I’ll be happy to escort you there, Emma.”
“My niece has led a very sheltered life.”
The entry-level hook; he stifled a groan. The woman had one of those smiley bland faces, but underneath that deceptive exterior a barracuda lurked, biding her time.
“I overheard your conversation with my twin,” he countered.
“Jennifer’s never dated, and she’s very fragile mentally. Her mother suffered a number of nervous breakdowns, and Jennifer seems to have inherited Annika Taylor’s severe mood swings. And this conviction she qualified for the US gymnastic team,” Emma Lockheed said, and she shook her head. “It wouldn’t take much to shatter her grip on reality.”
No one bullied Terrence O’Connor, and his civilized veneer had thinned tonight to spring-ice-cracking point. “Su-Lin’s over twenty-one, Emma. She’s an adult woman capable of making her own decisions.”
“Jennifer,” Emma snapped, emphasizing the English name, “is fragile and too innocent for her own good. James and I would be very remiss if we didn’t guard her carefully. Quite frankly, you don’t precisely have a pristine reputation where innocent girls are concerned. And I did hear rumors while we were traveling about a woman passenger on your yacht falling overboard and drowning.”
Fricking hell. He knuckled his right temple, which thudded with each heavy footstep, and said through gritted teeth, “That incident was ruled an accident. I was cleared of all charges.”
“Harrumph!” Emma Lockheed sniffed. “It’s entirely scandalous for you to put her in the room next to yours. I insist you move Jennifer to a cabin closer to ours.”
“The cabin
Su-Lin
is in currently is the second largest on the
Glory
and the most opulent. The only other empty cabin was designed with children in mind. There are two single beds that can be converted into a bunk bed. It’s not suitable for your niece.”
From the stiff line of Emma’s lips, his answer didn’t make her day. Tough titties; if she expected him to give up three weeks of paradise without a battle, she’d soon learn different.
Neither Harrison nor Su-Lin had made it to the entertainment area, and they’d left first. Terry seethed for the ten minutes it took to make his excuses and hustle down to his cabin. Impatient, and suspicions on DEFCON alert, he ate up the distance to the connecting door and edged it open.
Empty.
He found Su-Lin on the top deck with Thomas and Harry.
Cross-legged, five red-diamond-patterned playing cards in one hand, she looked alive, vivacious, bursting with vitality. He aged decades while looking at her. Emma was right on all counts; he didn’t deserve such champagne innocence.
“Terrence,” she said. “Harry and Thomas are teaching me Texas Hold ’Em. I used to hear everyone talking about it in high school. Now I understand why everyone was obsessed with it. It’s fun.”
Guilt torpedoed all his earlier plans, and he refused to meet her gaze. “Harry, you sober enough to take Su-Lin to her cabin?”
When the first mate nodded, he continued, “First Engineer’s on watch tonight. Thomas, can you spare me an hour?”
Hope blazed in Thomas’s eyes, the exact steel shade of his own, and he slowly rose to his feet.
“Absolutely. I’ll walk with you.” Thomas Jefferson Patrick Gore, heir to the Earl of Arran, spoke the words in a soft baritone. Yet their significance hung suspended in the cooling night breeze, hovering like an anchor about to plunge to port in ambiguous harbor.
Su-Lin noticed the stifled wince as Thomas rose, the way his complexion paled, and the brief seconds he paused before taking the first deliberate step forward. Terry adjusted his pace to match Thomas’s and they walked off the deck together.
Twins. She wondered if Terrence knew of Thomas’s illness, if they sensed each other’s thoughts or needed words to communicate.
“Come back to me,” Harry said. “You like him, sugar?”
“They’re both nice, and so are you. Thomas seems gentler, less angry.”
“But Terry is the one you want.”
She shifted to the right on the bench to make room for him.
Harry hooked a chair with one booted foot and shuffled it so they could both prop their feet on its seat. Su-Lin didn’t object when he settled his arm around her shoulders, as the temperature had dropped and she needed the added warmth.
“Do you believe in fate?”
“Nah, I believe in making your own fate.”
“What about your dad’s will? How can you forge your fate with those conditions hanging over your head?” she asked.
Catching a faint whiff of lemon and leather, she glanced at his pointed cowboy boots, the tan hide darker on the outside. Su-Lin dipped her chin, and sure enough, the scent grew stronger. Working shoes, she decided, noticing a black strip held a tarnished silver buckle across the front, and the image of him on a horse wearing rawhide and a Stetson caused her lips to curl.
“You can buy anything in this age, including a temporary virgin who’ll marry me for a predetermined period.”
Su-Lin shook her head.
“Aw, sugar, it’s not such a bad deal. A win-win situation.” He gave her a one-sided grin and a thumbs-up. “Money and sex.”
“It doesn’t look that way to me. It seems like bad karma. The
Tao Te Ching
, the book of life, teaches that every act is both good and evil, part of the natural balance of the universe. Where is the good in your plan?”
“Sugar, you’re talking to a Texan. We don’t do that harmony stuff.”
One by one the bright lights of the upper deck winked off, and the stars in the midnight sky sparkled and twinkled brighter, as if someone had turned the dimmer switch off. The absence of the electrical background buzzing amplified the soft swishing of the Mediterranean lapping at the
Glory’s
hull.
“Okay, look at it from a different perspective. You hate your stepmother and you’ll do anything to prevent her from getting your money. Is that right?”
“Bull’s-eye. So what’s your advice? Forgive and forget? Let that bitch get Daddy’s money?”
“No.” She shook her head and thought, for someone so sophisticated, he seemed naive. A gentle gust washed away the last hint of their dinner, and the tang of brine mingled with the faint whiff of Harrison’s Armani aftershave.
“Spit it out, Su-Lin, I’m listening.”
“You have so much hate, so much that is negative, and it’s not balanced by love anywhere in your life. Who loves you, Harry? Who do you love?”
The moon dipped behind a cloud, and she couldn’t read his expression.
“You know how to crack a man raw,” he drawled. “I think Jack Daniels and I are going to keep each other company tonight, sugar. I’m guessing there’s no way you’ll be agreeing to my proposal.”
“Uh-uh. Marriage is too important to treat flippantly,” she said, shaking her head. “But I’ll help you find someone you’d like.” She chewed on her lower lip and then uttered her request. “I wonder, Harrison -- would you kiss me?” So many expressions crossed his face within the space of those few words that Su-Lin couldn’t keep track of them.
“Sugar, you have no idea what my heart’s doing right now, or my son-of-a-gun fortunate prick.” That one-sided grin appeared again, and it blossomed into a Red Riding Hood’s wolf’s smile as desire darkened his eyes to molasses. “First, tell me why.”
“I like you. You’re very nice and kind, but my heart doesn’t race at the sight of you,” she replied. “You’re very handsome, and the way you say sugar gives me the shivers, but you don’t make me all tingly.”
“You mean the way Terry makes you feel?” He outlined the corner of her mouth with a forefinger.
“Yes. Do kisses all taste the same?” Su-Lin puzzled through her reactions aloud. “Is it the kissing or the person? What do you think?”
“I think you’re more dangerous than any of us realizes. But I’m not about to pass up the chance to taste you. Here,” he said, his voice gruff and enticing, and he settled her sideways across his thighs and scooted against the deck rail. “Comfy?”
“I know you won’t hurt me.”
Su-Lin closed her eyes at the first brush of his lips against hers, a soft, gentle skirmish, unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world. Harry’s mouth parted and he sipped at her, and the tenderness of his touch stirred a bittersweet ache in her chest. He deepened the kiss, caressing her tongue with long, slow strokes, and she sighed.
Easing their lips apart, he leaned against her forehead and asked, his hot breath smelling of chocolate and wine, “How was that, sugar?”
“Nice,” Su-Lin replied. She touched their lips together. “Not like Terrence at all.”
“Bloody fricking hell and damnation,” Terrence roared.
Su-Lin shot to her feet, and an inferno flamed across her cheeks, her arms, her neck, making her a touch light-headed.
“I like your kisses better,” she blurted.
“As my sodding traitor of a friend would say, well, whoopee do.” The feral quality of each carefully enunciated word had Su-Lin flinching. She hugged her arms.
Standing in front of Terry, she met his gaze and stumbled back a step at the fury and the contempt blazing from thundercloud irises.
“You’re angry,” she muttered. “But why? You have had many women. You said so yourself. It was an experiment, that’s all.”
“Harry, get out of here.”
She couldn’t hear but for the pounding in her eardrums and the pulsing of the blood at her temples. Su-Lin knew from the flare of his nostrils, the bulging veins on his crossed forearms, and his wide-legged stance, Terrence’s control balanced on the point of a spinning top about to collapse.
“I think maybe we should all sit down,” she countered, and her glance flicked behind him to where Thomas stood, shaking his head.
“Sodding get out of here, Harrison. And you, you’re no fricking innocent, Su-Lin Taylor. I turn my back for a couple of hours and he’s deep throating you? And I’ve been so fricking careful to take it easy with you. Gloves are off, little aphrodisiac.”
With those words, his shoulder contacted with her midriff, and he had her in a fireman’s hold, one arm clamped around her thighs. Hanging over his back, nose connecting midspine, his musky aroma distracted her, and she inhaled. The curve of his glutes had her mouth watering, and the memory of those rigid cheeks in profile sent a series of hot flashes from crown to little toes.
Su-Lin wondered if Terrence had forgotten her gymnastic abilities, but she sighed and decided to go with the flow. Best not to resist until he’d calmed down.
“What the hell are you doing, Ter? Don’t…don’t do this. You’ll regret it.” Thomas stalked forward until he blocked their path.
“She’s a fricking slut, Thom. Women betray. That’s it in a nutshell. One hole’s just as good as another. I’ll toss her out when I’m done.”
“Now that was offensive, and your gold chain’s scraping my right thigh,” Su-Lin complained and wriggled in his hold so she could clasp his belt and catch his attention.
Grunting, Terry glared at her, but he adjusted his grip and slipped one hand under the cotton lapel, easing the metal away.
“Thank you, much better. Um, except now the medal’s tickling that sensitive spot on the top of my thigh.”
“Jaysus. Are we going to stand here all night finding the correct position?”
Pleased since his tone sounded more baffled than angry, she replied, “Since that happens to be either standing on the floor, or in your bed, probably.”
Harry sniggered and tried to disguise the sound with a strangled cough.
Su-Lin raised her head and touched a finger to her lips.
Clamping both hands over his mouth, Harry slid down the smooth bench until his boots met the rail.
But Terry’s bunched shoulder muscles relaxed when he inhaled and then blew out a breath. By that point, Su-Lin had noticed the appealing view and the options available. Timing it perfectly, she hung limply, let her hand drift, cupped his bottom cheeks, and squeezed.
“Jaysus,” he yelped, and both feet left the ground.
His hold on the slippery silk of her jumpsuit slipped, and he bent forward and let gravity and his hands guide her to the ground.
Winded, and a little dizzy, she concentrated on his medal and her blurry vision cleared.
At no time at all had Terry’s touch been anything but gentle. When she stood on the deck, his hands bracketed her waist, and one forefinger stroked the curve of her hip. Su-Lin realized he wasn’t even aware of the caress. She covered the stroking digit with her hand.
“I am sorry. Most women have practiced kissing by my age. I thought kissing was accepted as a casual act. It was pleasant, but it didn’t shatter every thought in my head, and I was aware of everything. When you touch me, even this small stroking, all I’m aware of is you. And I didn’t even want to see Harry’s penis. Actually, I’d prefer not to.” She scrunched her nose.
“Sugar,” Harry choked out as he doubled over. In exquisite slow motion, he slid off the bench, and the ornate silver buckles on his cowboy boots rattled on contact with the deck.
“Are you okay?”
When Harry didn’t answer but seemed to be racked by coughs, Su-Lin patted his back. “Say something. Should we call a doctor? I think he’s having trouble breathing.”
Thomas broke into a protracted snort-chortle combo, which developed into loud guffaws, and he collapsed onto the bench Harry had once occupied.
The Texan managed to unbend and his face glistened with streaky tears. “Kiddo,” he croaked.
“Sod it, you two. Shut the frick up. In case you didn’t realize it, Harry, you’ve just met the first woman in the world who has no interest in your prick,” Terrence grumped, but his mouth twisted, and he shook his head.
“I don’t think what I said was funny. And I didn’t mean to insult you, Harry. Really, it was quite pleasant, and I’m sure you have a wondrous weapon, but it cannot compare to Terry’s.”
“On my mama’s grave, if any of you repeat that last line, you’re Texas roadkill.”
“Wondrous weapon?” Thomas croaked, and dissolved into sniggers.
“Not another word. Either of you.” He glared at the two males.
Reaching over, Terry cupped her jaw. “What am I to do with you, Su-Lin, darlin’?”
“So, kissing is not acceptable. What is?”
“Nada, not while we’re together.” He hooked a thumb at his chest. “I’m the only one for you, and you’re the only one for me.”
“Okay, I’ll agree to that,” she said, waving a finger in his general direction. “But I want to go on record. It’s simply not fair. You’ve had years and years of experience, and I have none. Still, I can make up for my lack later on.”
“Later on?” he growled. “Listen good, Su-Lin. I am a possessive man, at least where you’re concerned. It is not kosher to talk about my successor while you’re with me. Got that?”
“I’ve watched the entire first season of
Sex and the City
since Aunt Emma bought the DVD three weeks ago.” She frowned when Terry’s jaw dropped open. “Since I missed out on that stuff in high school, it seemed a good way to catch up.”
“Jaysus!” Thomas erupted, and he slapped his thighs repeatedly while swiping at his eyes and howling -- there was no other word for it -- howling with laughter.
Su-Lin decided to ignore both him and Harry, who pounded the deck with one fist and gasped for breath between hearty chortles.
“There is one thing the three of us should discuss,” Su-Lin replied. “I value your opinion, Thomas, so you may stay and help us find a solution, if you can stop laughing, that is.”
Thomas levered off the bench and managed to stand. He shook his head, stifled all mirth by clamping his twitching lips together, bowed from the waist, and said, “I’m honored.”
“Darlin’, is this liable to be a long discussion?”
“Perhaps.”
“Harry, grab us a bottle of scotch, will you?” Terry suggested.
“I’ve never had scotch,” she said, brightening. “I’ve seen it on Mr. Toad in the Hole’s bar. I did sniff it once, when he wasn’t looking. It was quite pleasant.”
“Darlin’.” Terrence twined their fingers together, sat on the bench, and pulled her onto his lap. “If you ever refer to me as pleasant, I’ll know you’ve moved on.”
“What’s the problem, Su-Lin?” Thomas asked, and he settled into one of the scooped lounge chairs, one leg crossed over the other.
“Harry’s evil stepmama inherits his daddy’s fortune if he doesn’t marry before he turns thirty, which happens in eight weeks.”
Terry whistled. “I thought you had that settled. What happened?”
At the bar, in the process of organizing a tray with their drinks, Harry glanced over his shoulder and quipped, “Bitch produced a will with a later date. Yeah, and it’s been verified.”
“Tough break, boyo. She sure has it in for you.”
“Harry has to have a virgin for a bride, and there has to be proof of consummation. He asked me to marry him. Ouch, that hurts.” She plucked at the hand tightening around her waist.
“You are not marrying anyone.”
“Don’t be silly, Terrence. My path is to marry and have at least two children, and to teach gymnastics. But it’s not my fate we have to settle, it’s Harry’s. We have to help him.”
“Your father must have had aristocratic leanings,” Thomas mused.
“Nah, Thom. My mama died after she and Daddy had a jealous spat, and on her deathbed, she pronounced me a bastard. The old coot had me tested before she was buried. Either she lied, or I got lucky. Daddy wanted a pure line. My firstborn has to be tested before he can inherit.” Harry deposited the tray on the table and asked, “Anyone not want a shot?”