The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield (51 page)

The memory of Brandon’s words brought a brief smile to my face, knowing how that first meeting must’ve driven him crazy since Brandon liked his well-organized plans and sticking to them.

I would give up half of my newly-acquired fortune to know what went through Brandon’s head during our first meeting—to know what he chose not to say despite saying a whole boat-load of rude things that day.

So you see, Brandon hasn’t exactly been as clear-eyed and logical about you since the day you met. Chances are, things turned out the way they did because something made him abandon his original plan that first day your two worlds collided. You’ve both been stumbling forward together, steered by your feelings. Simone’s right in that regard.

It didn’t mean though that just because Brandon discarded his typical careful planning, I was setting him up to fail. 

I may not have been what anyone would prescribe him as the perfect society wife but then I wasn’t a society wife. 

I’m just simply Brandon’s wife.

“I don’t expect you to cheer me on, Simone, after hurting you as I did,” came Brandon’s slow, gentle reply. “But I will not give up Charlotte—not when she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Whoever has a quarrel with me can give it their best shot but they ought to know that if there’s anyone I’d protect fiercely, it’s my wife.”

My heart felt like a melting chocolate bar at Brandon’s words.

I stepped out from behind the bush to declare my presence and stand by Brandon’s side but just as I opened my mouth to speak, Simone opened hers too—except that it headed straight for my unsuspecting husband and landed smack on his frown.

Her arms had come around Brandon’s neck as he took a step back from her, his hands grasping her by the shoulders to wrench her away.

Well. Either she’s dying and requiring mouth-to-mouth resuscitation or she’s trying to find Brandon’s heart through his esophagus. 

Simone had put her full weight forward, her body almost on a near-perfect diagonal, that Brandon had to hold her by the shoulders to keep from dropping her to the ground—which, in my opinion, wasn’t a bad thing to do considering the circumstances.

They both sputtered out words at the same time.

“Brand, please... I—”

“I can’t do this with you, Simone—”

My heart clenched with the jealousy that streaked sharply through me and I reminded myself that I needed to tread carefully.

“If you need to keep your mouth busy all the time, I heard there’s a few different careers for that,” I said slowly and evenly, looking directly at Simone as she and Brandon sprung apart.

Okay, it was more like Brandon dropped her like hot potato as he took a step back while Simone, ever graceful, stumbled forward a little before catching her balance. 

Brandon was scowling (better not be at me) and Simone was watching me, wide-eyed and nervous.

I was sorely tempted to have it out with the woman.

I had sympathized with her because if it weren’t for me, Brandon would probably still be with her. I had gone the nice, civil route at first, because I didn’t want bloodshed where one wasn’t necessary, and I had no quarrel with her. 

Despite all the animosity I received from the Championettes, which was partly due to their loyalty to Layla who in turn, owed hers to Simone, I withheld my temper (as best as I could manage anyway) but this latest stunt was just going a little too far.

“Charlotte, it’s not what you think,” Brandon said slowly.

I smirked. “Oh, trust me, Brand. It’s exactly what I think.”

I turned my narrowed gaze back to Simone. “Like Brandon, I’m sorry that we hurt you by the things that have happened and our decisions that accompanied them. I’m sorry, but I’m not stupid or spineless to let you throw yourself like this at my husband.”

Simone’s eyes darkened with a storm of emotions as she pressed her lips together so tightly they temporarily disappeared from her face.

“I won’t stand for it, Simone,” I continued with perfect calm and poise. “The next time I see you inflicting yourself on my husband like that, I will happily extricate you bodily myself. Let me assure you that while I’m fun-sized, I can be quite ferocious if the occasion calls for it.”

I ignored the quick flash of a grin on Brandon’s face that I saw in the corner of my eye. Instead, I focused all my intimidation on the woman next to him who stonily stared back at me.

“I hope you realize that you deserve more than what you hope to find with Brandon,” I added, gently this time, knowing that there was much about what Brandon and I shared that could be envied. “Someday, you’ll meet a man who will love you with his whole heart and make you happy. When you do, you’ll understand why I’ll fight to the death anyone who dares to take him away from me.”

And with that, I turned around and strode away, barely noticing Brandon shout my name as I marched my way back to the party.

“Charlotte! Wait up!”

In the space of a few seconds, Brandon reached my side, jogging slightly to keep up with my rapid steps.

“Not right now, Brand,” I said shortly. “Give me a few minutes to rid my brain of the image of you and Simone kissing.”

“We weren’t kissing,” he replied. “She was kissing me.”

I rolled my eyes, never breaking my pace. “Oh, pardon me. I just need a few minutes to rid my brain of the image of yours and Simone’s mouth having physical contact. Is that technical enough for you?”

“Charlotte, don’t be angry,” he persisted, catching me by the elbow to halt my march. We were just at the edge of the main gardens, still mostly out of earshot from the guests. 

“I only sought her out to confront her about telling Francis but she claims she didn’t say anything to him—that he learned it on his own and has some kind of proof.”

“She also claimed that she wasn’t that desperate to try and sleep with you but I’m pretty sure that kissing has led to the act several million times during the course of human history,” I retorted. “So forgive me if I have some trouble believing any claim Simone’s made recently.”

Brandon sighed. “You don’t have to but I’ll be personally relieved if she’s telling the truth. I hate thinking she would betray me like that.”

A pang of jealousy hit me for the second time in the last ten minutes and this time, it had the impact of a giant gong.

“Of course, you do,” I bit out through gritted teeth. “Simone’s so wonderfully perfect, she can do no wrong.”

God! I hated sounding so petty about it but I couldn’t quell my prickling insecurities at the moment, despite knowing better.

The sight of them lip-locking must've caused a screw to temporarily come loose in my head.

Brandon frowned. “Charlotte, you know that’s not what I mean.”

“Really?” I snapped. “Because I can’t think of how else you meant it, Brand. Are you sure it’s not her you’re so infatuated with, you can’t think straight and realize that she’s perfectly capable of doing what’s necessary to get what she wants?”

Brandon's face was creased with frustration. “I’m sorry if what you saw upset you but you shouldn’t let it worry you, Charlotte. Nor should you fret over the possibility that Simone is out to tear us apart.”

My temper exploded, jealousy coloring the rational part of my brain a bright, hazy red. “Why wouldn’t she? She lost you—to me, of all people! If we discover she has an altar with pictures of me red-X’d on the head and a map with my grave plotted on it, I wouldn’t be surprised. Unless you consider that possibility, you’ll be caught off guard.”

“I know what you’re saying,” Brandon said with a weary sigh. “But I’ve known Simone for years. I’m inclined to believe her when she insists she didn’t out us to my cousin.”

My eyes narrowed. “Is it the years of friendship, Brand, or is it the many steamy nights you spent in bed with her, that inspire your trust?”

I almost bit my tongue off with that comment.

My temper was getting out of hand, my comments becoming sharper and more hurtful. 

While I often gave people the benefit of the doubt, I became wary once they’d burned me once or twice.

“You’re not usually this bitter about people,” Brandon remarked quietly, his jaw clenching.

"Of course not," I snapped. "It's the first time I've ever had something I can't survive losing. I'm scared shitless."

Brandon's eyes softened and his mouth relaxed, a ghost of a smile touching his lips. 

My heart ached, my arms itching to wrap around him.

This day was making a turn for the worse and I just wanted to press up against him and have him hold me. 

But with the certainty of where Brandon and I now stood in each other's lives came new doubts about when this seeming dream was going to snap back to reality.

So you're not used to good things happening to you. You're not used to being happy. Now that you are, you're having a hard time believing it. You can't stop dreading the eventual loss. You can't stop fearing you'll never be enough.

I swallowed hard, unable to stop the questions anyway. "Tell me something, Brand. Do you prefer Twinkies over a chocolate mousse cake?”

Brandon’s dark brows knitted together in confusion. “Um, not really.”

I snorted despite expecting no different answer. “Of course, not. You’d prefer the more sophisticated choice. Comfort food’s for the miserable."

A moment of silence passed before Brandon's hazel eyes pierced me with understanding. 

"Charlotte, stop comparing yourself to Twinkies," he said with an exasperated sigh. "You're not a dessert treat."

I ignored him, too carried away now to hold back until my point's been made. "Everyone loves Twinkies but they're not what you show off when company's coming."

He frowned. "If you're the one feeding the company, I say you get the choice on what to serve them."

I rolled my eyes. "You're not getting the point, Brand."

"What point?" he demanded, his voice rising. "That you think yourself too ordinary? It's the value you place in something that determines its worth to you. Twinkies may be perfectly ordinary but I'd value it over every other kind of dessert treat if it's what makes me the happiest. It's what it means to me that elevates it from everything else. You could serve me chocolate mousse cake all you like but if Twinkies is what my heart desires, then Twinkies is my choice."

I blinked, my mouth going round in surprise and utter speechlessness.

Then I looked away to avoid bursting into tears.

Well. Battle Dessert's been won. Now, if only you didn't feel like a total jerk.

"Baby, look at me," Brandon murmured, softly this time, as his arms came around me.

"I'm looking at you."

"You're looking at my shoulder."

I sniffed. "It's a very nice shoulder. I don't look at it often enough. It might feel deprived."

His laugh was low and husky, reminding me of the times when we would playfully make love. "I have another body part that's demanding attention but I want you to do more than stare at it so I'm not going to show it to you here."

My cheeks warmed and I smacked him on the arm, looking up to see amusement sparkling in his eyes as he grinned.

We burst out laughing.

"There's my girl," he said, brushing the back of his hand across my cheek. "I know you're usually fearless but I know that sometimes, you forget just how precious you are. I'll have to work harder to make sure you always remember."

I arched a brow at him, still smiling that my cheeks ached. "I'm not sure you really want my ego to swell up that big. After all, we barely have enough room for yours."

He laughed. "I'm not sure that's true anymore. I've been brought down several pegs, thanks to my ever-managing wife."

"Can't see that my work's done yet," I quipped, winking. "There's a few more pegs left."

He leaned in close that our noses rubbed together. "You can do whatever you please with me, wife, but right now, I'm the one who wants something from you."

"What?"

Mischief twinkled in his eyes as he took a step back and did a formal bow. "May I have this dance with you?"

I glanced around and saw that while there was a primly-dressed band playing some indistinct tea music (should there be, in fact, ever such a thing), there was no one dancing. 

"Um..." I started, glancing back at my husband. "I don't think it's that kind of party, babe."

He shrugged. "I really don't care. I’d dance with you anywhere.”

I wrinkled my nose, hesitating. “People are going to stare weirdly at us.”

He lifted his hand toward me. “It's not about any of them. It's all about us." 

The adventurous gleam in his gaze was sorely tempting that I could feel myself almost literally teetering over in an attempt not to give in. "They'll think you're silly. And crazy."

"I'm pretty sure those are synonymous to being in love, which I'd happily admit to being guilty of." He grabbed my hand and pulled me toward the space in front of the stage where the band was set up. 

"Brand, people are looking," I murmured, holding my smile in place even as my cheeks blazed at the guests who'd turned to us in puzzlement.