Chapter 22 The Spies #2
“The dowager countess, his mother, kicked up quite a fuss.”
“And no one ever found him?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Not hide nor hair. Nothing. He vanished. One day there, one day gone and never heard from again.”
His tone had changed, taken an edge, when he queried, “How was he inappropriate with the ladies?”
“The articles and entries paint him as a bit of a cad, he was single, however reading between the lines of such things being reported in 1946, it could be a lot worse than that.”
“Then I hope someone got sick of his fuckwittery and put an end to him.”
“Now who’s bloodthirsty?” I teased as something caught the corner of my eye.
I looked out the windows.
Then I blinked and stared out the windows.
Prue, in a dove-gray tunic-length top that looked like two squares stitched together with openings for armholes, and matching gray leggings with equally matching gray flats on her feet with pointed toes that curled up, making her look like she was wearing tiny boats on her tiny feet, was lurking behind a shrub.
She was also wearing her octopus beanie.
How Atlas Talyn didn’t recognize his third child had strong artistic tendencies was beyond me.
What a moron.
But I couldn’t think on that.
Because she was furtively glancing around the shrub at something.
“What?” Battle called.
I didn’t know what, so I couldn’t answer him.
Carefully extricating my feet from under Bartholomew’s jowls, I stood, and my movement must have shared I was in the studio, because Prue looked my way.
She then started waving, not in a hello way, in a get-out-of-the-way way. Since I had no idea what way I was supposed to get out the way of, I didn’t move. And after a spell of her gesticulating wildly, she raced across the grass.
I got up and went to the door.
I opened it just as she came crashing in.
And that would be crashing.
And the crashing would be into me.
“Get down!” she said urgently and in a hushed voice.
But she didn’t give me the chance to get down.
She yanked me down to my knees.
I hit the floor hard, and that was probably one of the reasons Battle did an ab curl to sit up and growled, “The fuck?”
Bartholomew bumped his head on the desk when he lifted it to see what was going on.
The straight edges of Prue’s hair fanned out when she snapped her head to Battle then pointed at him. “Don’t move!”
“What’s going on?” he demanded.
But, as per usual with Battle giving everything he could to someone he loved, big brother didn’t move.
Prue dragged me to the side window.
I glanced in confusion at Battle.
I returned to her when I felt movement and saw her popping up so only her beanie and eyes were over the bottom edge of the window frame, then down, and up again, and down, then up.
I inched up to look over the edge of the window and gasped.
Christian was out there, crouched by a bush, stabbing some kind of long stick into the soil beside it.
Chassie was out there too, wearing a lavish sundress that was pink and had deeper pink flowers on it, was mega flowy and had lots of ruffles. She’d paired this with a wide-brimmed, straw hat with a corresponding pink ribbon tied in a big bow at the back.
Her hair was floofy under the hat, and Floofy was lounging bedside her as she did some pruning.
At this point, Christian moved with his sticks, acting like she wasn’t there, five feet away from him.
He crouched by another bush and dug the stick in.
Chassie shifted so he was in her eyeline.
Or she was in his.
I moved from the window and landed on my ass, whispering, “Oh my God.”
Prue landed on her ass beside me. “I know!”
“I don’t, so what the fuck is going on?” Battle demanded.
“Shh!” Prue waved at him.
I eyed Battle.
Oh shit.
“She’s on the prowl!” Prue said animatedly to me.
She so was.
“Who’s on the prowl?” Battle asked.
“Shh!” Prue repeated.
I could tell Battle was getting pissed.
I could also tell he was done with this because he was making moves to get up.
I knew no way could Battle witness Chassie trying to mend the damage she caused by pretending Christian didn’t exist, only for Christian to make his move to prove he did, and her racing away from him, so he was leaving her alone, without Battle…doing something.
I didn’t know what.
I just knew he couldn’t do whatever it was because that was the message Chassie had been sending.
She wasn’t sending it now.
However, she wasn’t being overt in the new message she was sending.
Ugh.
Shit.
“Don’t move,” Prue ordered. “They can’t suspect we’re in here.”
Battle stopped moving, but clipped, “Who?”
Prue ignored him and told me, “She used to garden in old jeans and sweaters and beat-up wellies. She only started wearing dresses since Christian’s been around.”
Oh shit!
That made Battle move.
So I crawled on all fours quickly across the room, knowing I looked like an imbecile, but this was too important for him to engage.
I got to him, looked up at him to see him staring down at me like he thought I needed medication and a straitjacket.
I grabbed his hand and tried to pull him down.
He didn’t budge.
“Just sit, Battle, please,” I begged.
He glowered at me.
“Please?” I repeated.
Slowly he sat.
“That’s what the ‘yes’ meant at Ravenna’s,” Prue called quietly.
Mm-hmm.
That was what the yes was about.
Either did he like her, or should she make a play, but something like that was what she asked the cards.
And the cards said yes.
“Allow me to guess,” Battle began sarcastically, “whatever you wouldn’t tell me about Christian is happening out there right now with my baby sister.”
I bit my lip.
“Is he bothering her?” Battle asked.
“I would say…no,” I answered. “If there’s any bothering happening, Chassie’s bothering him. But she’s actually not.”
“You’re telling me…” He couldn’t bring himself to say it.
He was so cute.
I turned to Prue. “Really? About the sundresses?”
“I don’t think she knew what she was doing.” Prue smiled a radiant smile. “I think she knows what she’s doing now.”
“For fuck’s sake,” Battle growled, making another move.
But I pushed between his legs and grabbed onto his shoulders to hold him down.
“You know she’s healing,” I said quickly. “I know you’ve noticed it.”
This didn’t appear to make him any happier.
“Honey, you told me she’s had boyfriends before,” I pointed out.
Still not happy.
“Do you not like Christian?”
“He’s a solid bloke. Very intelligent. Serious,” he said like someone was waterboarding him.
“Tall. Blond. Fit. Good looking,” I added.
He scowled.
“Baby,” I put a hand on his chest under his throat, “this is very, very good. Chassie wanting to feel pretty. Chassie wanting a man to notice she’s pretty. Chassie wanting a man to notice her at all.”
His lips thinned, he still didn’t say anything, but I knew I was getting to him.
“I love this for her. And you should too,” I advised.
And it might be time to invite Christian to dinner.
“Under her brother’s nose?” he asked.
My eyes got huge.
“Your Grace, you announced you wanted to fuck me right in front of her,” I reminded him, and kept doing it, “In fact, in front of everybody.”
He got quiet again.
“And I came to breakfast with a love bite,” I went on. “And let us not forget, there were flowers on our breakfast tray, and those were all Chassie. What’s good for the gander…” I let that trail.
“I mean, seriously, Battie,” Prue chimed in, “we’re all going to be in this house, filling it with babies eventually. And we all know too well you know how that comes about.”
I looked to her, happy she used the word “we’re” and hoping she’d eventually go on the prowl.
I wondered what her guy would be like.
Doing this, I watched her pop her head up to look out the window again before she took to her boat-shoed feet.
“They’re out of sight. I can still see them, but they’re closer to the house than the studio now,” she announced.
“Stop stalking them,” Battle ordered.
“But, Battie—” she tried.
“Let it play out however it plays out,” Battle continued being bossy, though I knew that particular tidbit cost him.
Prue heaved a sigh.
I got off the floor, sat beside Battle and changed the subject.
“Hey, thanks for letting me read your book,” I said to Prue.
Prue stopped looking annoyed at her older brother and got fidgety.
“It’s fantastic,” I went on.
She stopped being fidgety and stared at me.
“You think?” she asked.
“No. I know,” I told her. “The story is great. I’m totally into it. It pulled me in immediately. But the illustrations are life, Prue. So gorgeous. Have you approached a publisher?”
“I—”
“You should get an agent. They’ll be better able to negotiate a deal for you.”
Battle’s pissed vibe was now gone, and as I spoke, he stroked my back.
“Do you really think I should…try to find…uh, somebody?” she asked hesitantly.
“I think you’ll have a bidding war. Your work is better than Lore Olympus, and I fucking love those volumes.”
“Better than Lore Olympus?” she breathed.
Oh yeah.
I knew she loved those books too.
I probably should have gotten a hint she was into graphic stories with how much she loved that one.
“It’s a different genre, so not easy to compare, but yes. Your work is really that great. I can get my agent to get in touch with you. I don’t know if she does graphic novels, but she’d know who to refer you to.”
“I didn’t give my book to you so you’d—”
“I know, Prue,” I cut her off. “I also know I never approach my agent unless I believe in what I’m going to pitch her.
I believe in your work. If you want to share it, I think publishers would fall all over themselves for the opportunity.
” I smiled at her. “And I kinda love you, therefore I wouldn’t blow sunshine, get your hopes up.
If I didn’t have total confidence in what I was saying, I wouldn’t say it. ”
“Oh, Vivi!” she cried, raced across the space, and threw herself at me.
I stood so we could hug more easily.
I’d had a lot of great hugs in my life.
But this one ranked close to the top.