The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield (65 page)

“Why don’t we all sit down and eat dinner and take this conversation somewhere else later?” I murmured to the two men, gripping Brandon’s arm with enough pressure that he would hopefully take the hint. 

When they both refused to back down, I practically wedged myself between them, hissing softly through clenched teeth, “You can pummel each other later like pigs in the mud and I’ll referee but right now, you’re both going to sit down like civilized people and eat the damned dinner.”

“Everything alright there, Char?” Martin spoke up, his voice soft but firm with a wealth of unspoken meaning behind it.

Brandon and Francis broke their death stare and glanced at the dining table where everyone sat watching us. Even Mattie was gazing at us with wide blue eyes behind his glasses.

I beamed at them. “Oh, yes. All’s good. These two are just... catching up, Brandon-and-Francis edition.”

I practically shoved Brandon into a seat, quickly taking the spot next to him, as Francis rounded the table and sat on the opposite side, a good two plate settings away.

Good. The last thing these two need is more conversation over dinner.

The meal was delicious and full of lively chatter from Martin and the younger Maxfield siblings. 

Jake was not-so-covertly casting longing stares at Tessa who couldn’t fight a blush to save her life whenever she caught him looking.

I knew Anna noticed but pretended not to but I wasn’t certain about Martin.

He was still on a restricted diet but seemed to enjoy himself and the food since most of us made sure to include enough dishes that met his dietary requirements. He listened and advised Brandon when his son talked about the pulp mill issue in Virginia and its most recent updates.

Francis, to my everlasting relief, didn’t throw in any provoking, double-meaning comments into the conversation, but from the corner of my eye, I could see him studying Brandon intently.

When the main meal was done and we finally gorged ourselves with the sans rival I made for dessert, we moved back to the living room to have some tea and coffee while Mattie played a little for us.

I’d gone to the kitchen to help slice the leftover sans rival into portions and put them in disposable containers for those who wanted some to take home with them. I was just heading back when I passed by the den which also served as a home library.

A heated argument was clearly ensuing behind the closed door and one of the rising male voices was my husband’s.

The others were still in the living room which was down the long hall from the kitchen and with Mattie playing the piano (one of the few in the house), they probably haven’t heard anything yet.

I pressed my ear to the door to see if I could make anything out clearly but their words were muffled by the wooden barrier.

Door number one: Brandon beating Francis into a bloody pulp. Door number two: Francis decorating Brandon's face with bruises. Door number three: Maybe they're both just sitting there, yelling each other’s ears off.

Unable to stand back and listen helplessly, I pushed the door open. 

The two cousins were practically nose to nose with each other, their faces and ears red with quickly fraying tempers, their fists curled and primed for some good old punch-trading.

They both paused and swung their gazes toward me.

I held my hands up. "You're both looking daggers at me right now. If looks could kill, I'd be ground beef in the second it takes you to blink."

Francis gave me a baleful look. "Call off your hound, Brand."

I glared at him. "What is it with you and dogs? One might think you have some weird, kinky fetish or something."

Francis only looked more murderous and Brandon grabbed me by the elbow and tucked me to his side. 

"Leave her out of this," he told Francis. "She has nothing to do with this. She doesn't even know."

I turned my withering stare to my husband. "Now, there's an understatement."

Brandon glanced at me with pleading eyes. "Charlotte, please."

"I'm going to go now before the two of you make me vomit my dinner," Francis said crudely. He paused and leveled Brandon a narrowed look. "This is your last warning, Brand. The next time, I won't ask nicely anymore."

My husband stiffened as he returned Francis's menacing gaze. "And as I've said, it's not my decision to make."

Francis's mouth twisted into a sneer. "You say that but we both know what talent you have in making people think that the choice is all theirs when you're really the one moving the pawn pieces around the board."

I glanced at Brandon, catching the fury flickering in the depths of his fiery hazel eyes. "The decisions I've made, I've made for the sake of those I'm trying to care for and protect."

"Your good intentions be damned, Brand," Francis scoffed. "You'll give me what I want or I take you down. Your secret for mine. I can destroy you in your father's eyes as easily as you can do it to me."

With that, Francis turned around and strode out of the room.

The room fell amazingly quiet after that, with nothing more than the sound of our short breaths.

Then Brandon sighed out loud, almost literally deflating as he dropped to one of the big, comfortable arm chairs scattered around the room, and closed his eyes.

I stood in front of him, my hands planted on my hips. 

He looked so exhausted, so distressed, that a part of me wanted to wrap him up in my arms and hold him close until everything was right in the world again but I had to put my foot down this time.

Do you know what happens to those who carry a cross too big and heavy for them? They topple over and get crushed under it. Even with nice, broad shoulders like Brandon’s.

“It’s time to spill, Brand,” I finally said. “Francis knows about the contract. He didn’t even try to be subtle about it when he spoke to me tonight. What do you have on him that’s tempting him to use what he has on us?”

Brandon opened his eyes and looked up at me. “I have the same thing he has on me—a secret.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, all the little voices that had been niggling me in the back of my head coming out to the forefront. “Just one secret? I’m thinking there’s two—Nicole and Zach, to be specific.”

“Did you tell him about them?” Brandon asked with a frown. “Because you promised—”

“No, I didn’t,” I snapped. “I endured his pity instead when he realized you kept me in the dark, like some accomplice you’re about to double-cross.”

Brandon’s face turned bleak as he straightened off the back of the chair and pressed his forehead against my stomach, his arms circling my hips. My arms instinctively went up around his shoulders, my hands gliding through his thick, wavy hair.

Dammit.

Putting my foot down was a lot harder to do when Brandon was breaking my heart with his tenderness.

“You’re the last person I would sell out, Charlotte,” he murmured against the wispy material of my dress. “I’d let my soul burn in hell for eternity first before I ever let you near the fire.”

I ached for the man I loved, the man I married, the man who was all too willing to suffer everything alone if it meant freeing me from another moment of distress.

“And you know I’m stubborn enough to tell the devil to go to hell then reach in and drag you out, even if I’m burned clean to the bone,” I told him softly, lowering my head to press a kiss on his hair.

He rumbled out a laugh, lifting his head halfway up that I could see the laughter sparkling in his bright hazel eyes.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if you cursed the devil to his own den,” he said, his arms tightening around me. “Because you’re stubborn and loyal and unrelenting like that.”

“I know!” I agreed impishly. “Which is why I don’t understand why you left me out like you did. I could’ve been so much help. I’m cunning and devious and clever and tough-skinned and bull-headed and—”

“Charlotte.”

“—and fearless and artfully witty and—”

“Charlotte.”

I paused. “Yeah?”

Brandon grinned at me before pulling me down to his lap so we were practically eye-level. “I know you’re all of those things,” he said gently, cupping the side of my face. “But you’ve lived most of your life with too many worries—from where the food’s going to come next, to whether you’re going to find yourself tossed out in the streets when the bank takes away your house. You’re only nineteen—”

“Almost twenty!” I chirped in brightly.

“Almost twenty, then,” Brandon acquiesced, smiling indulgently. “My point is, I wanted to shelter you. I’m older and more experienced than you are. As your husband, it’s my duty to protect you and make you happy.”

Oh, Brandon. Sometimes, you’re too noble. 

I rested my arms around his shoulders and touched my forehead against his. “As your wife, my duty isn’t to be put on a pedestal. My duty is to be your partner in everything—good or bad—to share your load, hold your hand, care for you when you’re weary, cheer you on when you lose hope. And I’m good at this, Brand. You’re going to have to let me out of my glass jar and let me do what I need to do. I’ll protect you.”

Laughter crinkled the corners of Brandon’s eyes. “I’m six-foot-three and about two-hundred pounds of muscle and you want to protect me?”

I rolled my eyes. “Yeah! I can fight them and I can fight with you.”

He chuckled, his hands settling on my waist. “But you're so small.”

“So? Think of us as David and Goliath—but on the same side.”

Brandon threw his head back laughing and I grinned, pleased to see his face clear of his current worries. 

His arms tightened around me as he pulled me in for a kiss, his smile touching my lips. “You’re adorable, you know that?”

“I’ve heard it once or twice,” I said cheekily, giggling when he suddenly rose from the seat, with his arms hooked around my waist and under my knees. “Brand! What are you doing?”

“Bringing you into the ring to fight,” he said as he walked out of the library and down the hall to where his family was still gathered by the living room.

They just gave us amused glances when they saw us.

“Should we even ask?” Jake teased with a grin. 

“If you have to, then you don’t have much of an imagination,” Brandon answered, smiling rakishly. “It was nice to see all of you but as advised by my father, whose wisdom I always strive to emulate, I’m going to take my wife home now and express to her just how much I missed her these last couple of days.”

“We didn’t need the visuals, you know?” Anna said, wrinkling her nose.

Tessa laughed. “I think as long as we’re around these two, there’s no helping the visuals.”

“Get out of here, you two,” Martin said with an indulgent smile. “I’ll see you around, kids.”

“Are you going off to make me a nephew? Or a niece?” Mattie piped up eagerly. “I don’t really mind either one as long as they like music.”

Brandon and I glanced at each other and laughed. 

“Um, no. No nephews and nieces yet, buddy,” Brandon told his little brother just as Tessa handed me my purse. “But as any musician would agree, practice makes perfect.”

“Brand, he’s ten!” I reprimanded my husband, my face flushing with embarrassment, as the other adults chuckled. 

“Right,” Brandon said with no hint of remorse as he turned us toward the door. “Goodnight, everybody!”

As soon as we were out the front door, Brandon walked down the steps to his sports car parked by the driveway.

“Where’s Freddy?” I asked after he deposited me in the passenger seat.

“I sent him home,” he answered as he got in and started the car. “Poor guy’s tired from running around all day with me. I sent him home as soon as we arrived at the airport.”

“As if you’re in better shape,” I retorted. “Why don’t you let me drive?”

He glanced at me in amusement. “As if you could.”

“I got my learner’s today,” I told him proudly as he got us out into traffic. “I just have to figure out when to do the road test. I’m going to be a year older soon. I thought about becoming a more independent adult.”

“You don’t think you’re independent enough?” he asked. “You have money. You own your own house. You’re a co-chairperson in one of the biggest charity societies in the city, if not the country.”

I bit my lip in thought. “Sure, but I don’t have money of my own. I didn't really pay for the house myself. I don’t have a real job. I haven’t even gone to college.”

I hated sounding like I was complaining because I was living the life of a queen as Brandon’s wife. I was basked in luxury like it was second skin. But all the trappings mostly came with my marital status. At the end of the day, they didn’t quite give me any real sense of self-accomplishment.

“Last night, I sat and listened to people as they talked about their classes or their professors or a paper they were doing,” I said, hoping Brandon would somehow understand. “It all sounded so fascinating but it was something I couldn’t quite relate to. Here I was, this hotshot society wife everyone envied, sitting there and listening to all of them, without anyone knowing that for a moment, I envied them for their experiences.”