Chapter 27 The Ring
THE RING
I swam out of sleep to see the day was bright and the cats had had breakfast, because they were all in bed with me, snoozing.
I could also see my hot duke striding toward the bed with hair wet from a shower, in jeans and a button-down.
I pushed up to an elbow. “Hey.”
He said nothing until he sat on the side of the bed and curled a hand around the side of my neck.
Then he said, “Hey.”
I looked to the smart screen and saw it was twelve after ten.
“Holy crap, it’s late,” I said, pushing up further, then wincing as I tweaked my knee.
“Still,” Battle ordered and took my wrist.
He carefully peeled back the bandage a tad and peered at my wounds.
“That doesn’t seem too bad,” he murmured, pressing the bandage back down.
“The hands aren’t. Just gouges and some scrapes. But I did a number on my knee.”
He looked that way even if he couldn’t see anything through the duvet.
“It’s fine,” I assured. “Just a deep cut. Not so deep it needs stitches, though. Patsy pushed it together with some plasters and bandaged it. It just aches a little, and since it’s on the bend, it gets irritated easily. I tweaked it pushing up.”
Battle, being Battle, didn’t take my word for it and shoved the covers down (seriously pissing off Gingerface, I really needed to work on his habit of blithely disturbing the animals) so he could peer under the bandage at my knee.
“Fuck, that looks bad,” he murmured.
“It’s okay. I’m okay. But I need a toothbrush and then I need caffeine.”
He pulled the covers back over me. “I’ll have some coffee sent up.”
“No, I need more to make sure Prue and Chassie are okay.”
“Prue is in the breakfast room. Because of the late night, Cook adjusted the schedule and set out a brunch.”
I started to get out of bed. “All right. Let me do my biz and we can head down.”
“Darling.” I stopped moving and looked at him. “They are dear to us, but we still pay them, and we pay them well, to serve.”
He was just so sweet.
“I need to move,” I replied. “I feel achy and still revved. I don’t think I can lie in bed, baby.”
At that, it was Battle who pulled me from under the duvet.
“I’ll meet you down there,” he said.
I gave him a peck on the lips, nabbed the lounge pants I took off to go to sleep last night, hit the bathroom, did my thing, including taking off the bandages on my hands (they really weren’t that bad, and I didn’t want to have to deal with them whilst using cutlery).
I put my pants back on and walked (okay, kind of limped) out.
The cats were still snoozing on the bed.
Last night, they’d tried to warn me too, my lovely furry babies.
I’d ask Patsy if we had any tuna.
On that thought, I headed down to the breakfast room.
I’d hoped Chassie would also be there by the time I made it there, but it was only Battle and Prue.
The minute I walked in, Battle started pouring me coffee.
He also started issuing commands.
“Sit. I’ll get your plate.”
I did as told, reached for my coffee cup and smiled at Prue. “How are you doing?”
“I think I slept for about an hour,” she told me something I could guess, considering her tired eyes and the messy edge to her fringe, which was always razor sharp.
Man, Chelsea was such a bitch.
“How are you?” she asked.
“Knee aches. Otherwise,” I showed her my scraped palms. She winced. “They look worse than they are.”
My filled plate clattered in front of me.
“Where are your bandages?” Battle demanded.
I looked up at him. “Honey, again, I’m fine. They need air. After brunch, I’ll clean them in the shower again, put on more Germolene and ask you to wrap them. But only so the antibiotic ointment can get to work without me rubbing it off. They don’t need the drama of being wrapped all the time.”
His lips thinned, he sat down, but he said nothing.
I looked down at my plate to see beans, mushrooms, sausage, hashbrowns, toast and a fried egg.
Perfect.
I grabbed my cutlery.
Battle got up and went to the window.
He peered out and came back, sitting again and saying, “Tempie and Hamish are here.”
I was hoping one day I’d know the house sounds so well, I’d be like the rest of the Talyns.
But I didn’t dwell on that thought because I had more important things on my mind.
“What? Why?” I asked after swallowing a forkful of mushroom-topped hashbrowns soaked in beans. “They aren’t due back until tonight. At least Tempie isn’t. Hamish wasn’t coming until the weekend.”
Battle studied me like I had a screw loose.
It was Prue who spoke.
“Vivi, you were attacked last night.”
“I wasn’t attacked,” I said to her. “I was chased in the rain.”
Prue looked to Battle.
I looked to Battle.
The homicidal expression had returned.
Mental note: do not refer to my midnight trauma with Battle in earshot.
I’d managed to stuff another bite in my gob before there was a commotion at the door, and then Bartholomew was loping in, ears and jowls flying, drool sailing, skidding to his rump between Battle and me.
“Hullo, my handsome boy,” I cooed as I pet his head.
“Don’t pet the dog with your injured hands,” Mr. Overprotective ordered.
“Battle,” I snapped. “For the last time, I’m fine!”
“I see Midnight Mayhem hasn’t broken your spirit,” Tempie drawled as she sashayed in with Hamish. “Brava, dearest.”
“You didn’t have to drive all the way to The Downs. As you just heard, I’m fine,” I told them.
“Man and dog can’t be separated for long,” she replied, sitting and reaching to the coffeepot (Hamish went straight to the sideboard). “Regardless, I had the most delicious phone call early this morning and I had to share about it in person.”
My gaze darted to Battle, worried myself, but more worried he would be that Rebecca might have also phoned her daughter.
“She’s right,” Hamish said from the sideboard. “Tempie’s side of it was so hilarious, I wished I could hear the whole thing.”
“Hilarious?” Battle asked.
Tempie took a sip of her coffee and put the cup back in its saucer. “Newton Renfrew.”
Battle stretched his neck ever-so-slowly to the side, and I didn’t think that was a good thing.
“Is that Chelsea’s father?” I asked hesitantly.
“One in the same,” she answered as Hamish put a scone in front of her and sat behind his own very full plate.
“Why the fuck is he calling you?” Battle demanded.
“Well, he didn’t share. But one would suppose he did it because he knew, if he attempted to speak to you, you’d tell him, he and his daughter could go fuck themselves.”
“I’d maybe have more words,” Battle said scarily. “But the message is spot on.”
“I had several words myself,” she stated while slathering butter on a bite of her scone, then going for the pot of jam. “And as you could probably guess, Mr. Renfrew is quite keen to keep his daughter’s name out of the papers and her face out of a courtroom.”
“I don’t give a fuck what he wants,” Battle replied.
“Yes, however, since he’ll be giving a million pounds to Vivi as an apology for his daughter’s erratic behavior, as well as another million pounds to the Talyn family, which we will in turn donate to the RSPCA,”—she looked to me—“I picked that charity, dearest, since you’re an animal person.
” She returned to Battle. “Along with a written apology from Chelsea to Vivi, his assurances that she will be spending the next year…at least…in their flat in Sydney, and his solemn vow none of us will ever hear from her again, I thought you’d reconsider. ”
I was so stuck on the first part, I forgot about shoving more of the full English on my plate into my mouth.
“He’s giving me a million pounds?”
She turned pensive. “Should I have demanded two?”
“You did!” I cried, beginning to freak. “The donation.”
“Of course. I mean three,” she amended.
I collapsed back in my chair.
Tempie delicately bit into her scone, chewed, swallowed and remarked, “I did not promise discretion. He knows we won’t go to the papers.
He also knows I will tell every fucking person who has the ability of hearing, and I will learn goddamned sign language to share it with anyone who doesn’t, what a daft nutter his fucking daughter is. ”
At this speech, Hamish had lost interest in his food and was gazing at his woman with open adoration.
“You, of course, can decline his offer. I only brokered it,” she concluded.
“He can—” Battle started heatedly.
“We’re taking it,” I said.
He snapped his head toward me.
“Somehow, honey,” I began, “no matter how totally gorgeous all of you are, how rich, how interesting and how titled, you’ve managed the miracle of pretty much keeping yourselves out of the limelight.
But if you let that light in, you know it will never let up.
Don’t let her do that to you. Even if it means she won’t be publicly scorned, I’ll bet Tempie has some pull in your circles, and she’ll be shunned. That’ll hurt worse. I guarantee it.”
“And she’ll be in Australia, Battie,” Prue chimed in. “Far away from you and Vivi.”
“I’ll add that Newton did not hide he’s done with her shenanigans,” Tempie said. “I do believe he used the term ‘very short leash.’”
She grinned malevolently.
I so understood Hamish.
I simply adored this woman.
Prue clapped. “And Vivi and the animals each get a million pounds!”
“What am I going to do with a million pounds?” I asked.
Again, Battle looked at me like I’d gone ’round the bend.
Tempie had an answer for me. “Obviously, that means shopping trip to Paris, and perhaps Milan. Equally obviously, I’m going with.”
Hmm.
I’d never had anything designer that wasn’t pre-loved.
No, strike that.
Both my wedding outfits had been found by Tempie, and as such, they’d both been designer.
Fortunately, there wasn’t a quota on that.
“I’ve never been to Milan,” I said. “After I finish my book, we can go there, and Paris, and then I’ll go home for however long I have to go home before I can get another visa to come back and stay for a spell.
” I missed the shift of the vibe of the room and started talking to myself.
“I need to make a note to look into the rules about that.”
“Go home?” Battle asked.
I turned to him.
And…
Whoops!
“Honey—”
“Go home?” he repeated.
“My visa is only good for”—I did a mental calculation—“less than four more months. I have to leave. I’ll figure out when I can come back and maybe you can come out and visit while I’m in The States.”
Bartholomew’s head shot up because, immediately when I was done talking, Battle pushed back his chair, got up and strode out.
I stared at the door.
Then I looked between Prue, Tempie and Hamish, mumbling, “Okay, I probably should have finessed that better.”
Prue and Hamish kept their silence.
Tempie said, “Dear.”
Eep!
I started to get up. “I’ll go talk to him.”
“Think you should give him a bit, lass,” Hamish advised.
I sat back down and bit my lip.
His bright blue eyes shifted to Tempie, making his point eloquently, and then he said, “Just a bit. Aye?”
I nodded but said, “It isn’t like I told him I was going to go home forever. I said I’d come back.”
“Do you want to go home?” Prue asked quietly.
“No. Yes,” I answered. “No, not without Battle. But yes, for a visit. I want him to meet my grandparents. And just see where I lived before I came here. But I don’t have a choice. I don’t have leave to remain here.”
“The law can be rather inconvenient at times,” Tempie remarked in her cool tone that was meant to be soothing.
It usually worked.
Now it didn’t.
I pushed my food around on my plate, gave up, and went after my coffee.
When I was putting the cup back in the saucer, Battle returned.
And he was carrying two thin…
Drawers?
He balanced one on the other, shoved my plate aside, his, then he upended both drawers on the table.
Tinkering flashes of precious jewels scattered all over the surface in a manner both Prue and I had to act fast so none fell to the floor.
“Looks like someone has been to the vault,” Tempie murmured.
“Pick one,” Battle ordered after he set the now-empty drawers on the sideboard.
Tempie chuckled deeply.
I stared in shock at the plethora of rings all over the table.
I took too long doing this, because Battle sat beside me, grabbed a random ring, then grabbed my left wrist.
Carefully, he put it on my ring finger.
Oh my God.
It didn’t go over my knuckle (which was good, it was a huge ruby in a not-very-attractive setting).
“Not that one,” he murmured.
Tossing it aside like it was plastic, not gold and a big-ass ruby, he grabbed another one at random.
This was a round sapphire surrounded by diamonds.
He slipped it on my finger.
It was too loose.
“Not that one either,” he said, sliding it off and nabbing yet another.
“Battle,” I whispered.
The massive emerald-cut emerald fit snug over my knuckle, but it went and then fit perfectly at the base.
He caught my eyes. “That one?”
My heart was beating like a mad thing.
“Are you asking me to marry you?” I whispered.
“Yes, and no,” he said curtly. “Yes, we shall be getting married. Yes, I will eventually ask for your hand in a far more romantic manner. Yes, when we apply for a fiancée visa from the Home Office, we will share we’re engaged.
No, between you and me, my sisters, Hamish and Bartie, this is a place keeper until you and I are ready for the real thing.
And that means, until I can phone my jeweler and set her to finding the ring you’ll wear to your grave, which in turn means we’ll be official sometime next week. ”
I stared at him even though he was wavy through the tears in my eyes.
“So, darling, will that one do?” he asked a lot more gently.
“I—”
“Vivi!” Prue cried urgently.
I turned to her.
“The ring,” she said.
“What?”
“Ravenna!” she nearly yelled. “The ring! Choose the ring wisely.”
Holy crap.
The ring.
I looked down at the scattering of expensive jewelry (seriously, they could cull this lot too, and even Noble and Fury’s children would have a still-healthy Fund).
“What’s this?” Battle asked.
“I do hate when I’m wrong about something, and with that woman, it seems I’m wrong,” Tempie said.
But I saw it on the table.
Like when Indiana Jones picked the proper Holy Grail, there it was amidst all the decadence, wealth and splendor.
A little white-gold engagement ring, art deco style, stacked, with a small round diamond embedded in a radiating stamp of art deco square, two tiny diamonds set on each side.
I reached to the ring and felt it for the first time since the first day I was there.
A bolt charging through me.
Oh God.
I handed it to Battle. “This one.”
He didn’t look fond of my choice, but he took off the emerald and slid that ring on my finger.
It fit perfectly.
I nearly burst into tears.
I didn’t, though not due to any iron will over my emotions.
But because, right at the moment Battle settled that ring at the base of my finger, we all heard Chassie scream.