Riding the Thunder (40 page)

Locking the door so he couldn't yank it open, she reached into her purse for the pink napkin, then rolled
down the window. Seeing her do that, he came around to the driver's side.

“Cut the motor, Asha.”

“Here, Mr. Mershan.” She poked her arm out the window to hand him the napkin.

He looked confused, but finally took it. As he started to open it up, her foot punched the gas and the car lurched forward, leaving him standing flatfooted. Slowing to pull onto the lane, she glanced in the rearview mirror and watched him open the napkin that contained her Early Pregnancy Test with the pretty little plus sign.

He gaped for a minute, then his head snapped up.

“Buh bye, Mr. Mershan.” She laughed and floored the gas, leaving him to watch her speed away.

Jago glanced at his watch, then checked the departure time of the plane. Bloody hell, Asha was one-step ahead of him the whole way. At first, he assumed she'd finally return to The Windmill, if for nothing but to kick him out. However, Netta came to say Asha had called, and asked her to handle the restaurant while she was away, that she was going to England for a stay. The damn plane had taken off less than an hour before he reached the airport.

Exhaling his impatience, he punched the number to Falgannon, hoping to catch Des again. He wasn't pleased with their last conversation. Des still couldn't let go of the past, and it was slowly destroying him. Instead, Asha's sister picked up the phone. He almost hung upon her. Something about B.A. Montgomerie terrified him!

“Falgannon Castle,” came the voice that had a similar timbre as Asha's, but was touched with the charming hint of a Scottish burr.

“BarbaraAnne, this is Jago Mershan. I'm Desmond's—”

B.A. cut him off. “Mershan? I thought it was
Fitzgerald
. Yes, we spoke briefly before, you lying bastard.”

God, he loved these Montgomerie wenches! No politeness or British stiff upper lip, they came at you, wanting to cut off vital parts of your male anatomy. Must be their Pict blood. He thought of that little knife Asha kept and shuddered.

“I see you share Asha's opinion of me. I'm calling about Des. Look, I'm at the airport awaiting connections, but I need to speak with you.”

“Since you hurt my sister, I'm
so
in the mood to listen.”

He wished for an old-fashioned phone booth where he could sit down; wished Asha hadn't taken his cell phone. “Asha's capable of extracting her pound of flesh. I'll make it up to her if I have to crawl on my belly and beg. Right now, this is urgent. I'm calling about Des. I spoke with him last night. It upset me. Whatever happens, please keep him on the island. I'm worried about him. He loves you.”

“I know.”

“That's a relief.” For the first time since he saw Asha holding that letter, something had gone right. “I feared, like your precious sister, you'd pull a tizzy and try to punish Des until he comes around. My brother's erred . . . in many things. We
all
have. Right now, he's in trouble. Our mother died in November and Des hasn't adjusted. It wasn't an easy passing . . .”

Her tone was sad. “I figured that out a few days ago.”

An unwelcome intrusion, he heard his plane being called.

“Damn. They're paging my flight. I can't afford to miss it, and give your sister a head start. His whole life, he put Mother, Trevelyn and me ahead of what was best for him. He needs someone to put Desmond first. Can you, BarbaraAnne? Please remember above all, he loves you deeply—and don't let him off that island.”

He waited for her to answer him for a couple of seconds, but finally had to hang up, not hearing her reply.

When the door opened on the small cottage, Jago sucked in his breath. In the half-light of the February evening, he
thought for a heartbeat that he stared at Asha. Then after that breathless moment, he recognized the woman as Raven, her twin. He couldn't pinpoint the differences, at first glance; he just
felt
it wasn't Asha, on a deep level. Her face was faintly thinner, her hair darker. She blinked, confused, and then he understood—she was going through a similar puzzlement, thinking for an instant that he was Trev.

“Peculiar, eh?”

Eyes wary, she nodded. “I'm not sure the world really deserves two of you. One's bad enough”

“You can berate me later. I want to see Asha. Make sure she's all right.”

“Asha?” Her perplexity deepened.

“Yeah, your twin, looks a lot like you but has lighter hair and doesn't have that beauty mark on her lip that you do.”

“I know my sister quite well. I just don't understand why you would think she'd be here.” She looked him up and down. “I see differences between Trev and you, too.”

The way her mouth quirked up in a smug half-smile, set his teeth on edge. Jago reined in the irritation. “Asha's not here?”

She shook her head. “She's in Kentucky.”

“She left there, was coming home to you.”

“She's not here. Her home is in Kentucky now.”

He half believed her, but intuition said she'd lie without hesitation for her sister. Being a jerk, he pushed past her and entered the cozy thatched cottage. A bright orange tabby appeared and danced around his feet; bloody thing was nearly as fat as Clint. The creature chased after him as he went from room to room calling Asha's name.

Raven stood by the door, glaring haughtily at him as he returned. “Chester, leave the man alone. That's not Trev,” she told the cat, which paid no attention. “I think it best you leave, Mr. Mershan.”

Ignoring her, he dropped down on the oak bench in the hallway. “She's not here.”

“I told you she wasn't, but I guess being a lying Mershan
you expect everyone else to lie, too. Asha is in Kentucky. She rang to say she was coming, but an hour later, she called back to say she'd changed her mind and was returning to The Windmill.”

He stared at her, trying to decide if she was telling the truth. It could be a joke they'd cooked up, to send him back to Kentucky, only to find out she wasn't there and he'd have to turn around and come back to England again. A perverse punishment. Almost reading his mind, she shrugged, and crossed to a hall table where a phone sat. She picked it up and punched out a number with enough digits telling him it was overseas.

She smiled patronizingly, and then held the receiver to his ear. Asha's voice was clear across the connection.

“The Windmill. Hello? Anyone there?”

Jago took the phone from Raven's hand, punched disconnect and started to dial. He paused when he realized he wasn't sure whom to call. He looked at her. “I need Mershan's corporate helicopter and jet warmed up. That's Julian's department, but I guess he's still on Falgannon. Where is Trev?”

“Trev's right here.” His brother spoke from the shadow of the doorway.

Seeing his twin he laughed for the first time since Asha had found that bloody letter. “No wonder Raven saw ‘differences.'” His twin had a black eye and a bruise on his chin.

Yep, these Montgomerie women were warriors. He wondered if Trev had at least remembered rule number three in handling a Montgomerie female—to protect his b
reall
.

Asha hung up the phone. No one had spoken, but she had this strange feeling it was Jago. She was sorry she'd run from him. It wasn't her style. She was still unsure what she'd do when he returned, but outside of the fun of leaving him without his charge cards, phone and car keys, she hadn't accomplished anything other than giving herself a little space to think.

Colin was replacing worn tiles on the floor in front of the jukebox; the idiot box was playing The Yardbirds' “Heart Full of Soul.” He looked up, concern in his eyes.

“You feel okay, Asha?”

She picked up a pencil to add notes to Netta's orders. Her friend was learning fast and would soon take a lot of weight off her shoulders. With the baby coming, she would be a godsend. Netta was getting another promotion this payday—to manager. And pleased how Winnie was fitting in, maybe Asha would promote the young girl to hostess and hire another waitress or two.

Dropping the pencil, she picked up the glass of green tea and lemon. “Sure, I'm fine. Why do you ask?”

Colin shrugged. “You're drinking green tea instead of Pepsi, for one. And maybe the way you answered the phone; hope in your eyes—though mixed with a flash of fire.”

“I'm a little tired, restless. The winds make me edgy. They rattled the panes of the windows last night and kept me awake.”

“The baby making you sick yet?” He almost ducked after asking the question.

“You know, Colin, you're too damn smart,” Asha growled.

He smiled winningly. “Until you came along, no one noticed. It was ‘good old Oo-it—always great for a laugh.'”

“They were laughing with you, Colin. Everyone loves you.”

He replaced the cap on the putty cement. “Yeah, I know. Why I loved the nickname. But Oo-it isn't
all
of me. Sometimes, names are often roles we're forced to play. Think maybe that Jago was able to forget his troubles and just be Jago here? Hey, I'm not saying that lying to you was good, and taking the proxies put him in the doghouse, but a name is just some label we stick on people. You loved Clint a long time before we learned his name. And what the heck”—he chuckled and flashed a grin—“I'm an Oo-it. Names aren't as important as a person's actions. Did Jago tell you about the drive-in project? We're partners. He put
up the money, and he and I are going into the drive-in franchise business. People will have to call me Mr. Oo-it. Or how he gave Netta money to start a dress shop in Lexington? And that he's trying to line up a deal for Sam to market his gumbo recipe?”

She blinked, shocked, maybe slightly hurt. “No, he didn't. Of course, I shouldn't be surprised he forgot to mention these things. He didn't even tell me his
real
name.”

“He was playing faery godfather, and leaving it up to us to tell you. Netta's dragging her heels, scared—I'm not sure she'll do it. I was waiting for my first franchise sale. Sam held off seeing if the deal happened or not. We wanted something real to tell you, not just hopes. The main thing, Jago cared enough to see
us
. Whatever his name, he's a hell of a man, Asha. Don't lose him over a silly name.”

At dark the next day, a gale force gust of wind hit the side of the small diner, sending the huge plate glass windows rattling. It set Asha's teeth on edge. These sorts of windstorms hit Kentucky in November and again in March. The only time she didn't like the state's changeable and moody weather. The day had been rather warm, but now a rapidly moving cold front had blown in, dropping temperatures and sending 35 mph winds to gusts of 55 and higher. The old farmers in the area called it a nor'easter. The wind reminded a person they were human, and they and their feeble shelters could be blown down by a force unseen. Mother Nature humbled one.

When the lights flickered and threatened to go out, Asha paused from thumbing through the Crownline Boats catalogue and frowned. She loathed the winds when they howled like this, always dreading when the electricity went out, due to limbs breaking off and taking down the power lines.

“Maybe I should look at a generator catalogue instead of cabin cruisers,” she grumbled to herself.

Last night had been bad enough without Jago. The winds picked up before dawn. It made her glad Colin had finished putting in new storm windows on the bungalows; that cut down on the noise some. Weather aside, she'd been restless all night: tossing and turning, endless glances to the phone, waiting for Jago
Mershan
to call. She wondered where he was, what he was doing. Missed him.

“The man just doesn't understand proper groveling protocol,” she groused.

The lights flickered again. Both Colin and she glared up at them, as though it was possible to stop them from winking out by will alone. Putting down the putty knife, Colin closed the can of cement. With a worried sigh, he pushed it and the water bucket out of the pathway to the kitchen door.

“You know, Asha, talking to yourself could be a sign you're alone too much.”

She countered, “My mum always said it was a mark of a highly intelligent child.”

“You momma could've lived in England in a ‘hall' that had fifty bedrooms, with servants to wait on her hand and foot. What did she do? Lived on a rundown horse farm and ran The Windmill. I loved her, but she wasn't your average person—you know?” Colin teased.

“What's that line—in
Lawrence of Arabia
about Brits loving desolate places?”

“Yeah, well, Larry was a queer bird.” Colin stood up, wiping his hands on a rag.“Hey, I made a pun! Sorry, I'm not finishing this project tonight. I have a hot date, and I don't want to be late.” Even in the fluctuating light, his blush was clear.

Asha smiled. “Hot date? Who's the lucky lass?”

“Winnie.” He beamed.

She'd noticed Winnie taking an interest in Colin the past few months. He'd helped fix up her cabin into a wonderfully warm home. In turn, she began prodding him: first change, she'd taken him to Lexington to have his hair styled, eschewing Colin's monthly trip to Jake the Barber in Leesburg. Then she'd started helping him shop for clothes.

Gone were the ten-year-old, never-wear-out, hooded sweatshirts. Asha admitted the change was fantastic. Colin was very handsome. Winnie had found a diamond in the rough and was polishing him to a shine. Derek sneered and made comments about Winnie doing it just to make him jealous, but Asha thought the young woman had simply looked at Colin and seen all that potential waiting to be tapped. The two made a cute couple.