Chapter 4 #3
The implications of what he’d just said were impossible to misinterpret.
He hadn’t been talking about biscuits, and they both knew it.
Furious that he kept catching her off guard, she stabbed at the food on her plate with undue force, scraping the tines of the fork across the china and earning her a cool I-taught-you-better-than-that look from Tilly.
The rest of the meal passed in relative silence, broken only by the coming and going of Tilly and Joshua as they carried food into the breakfast room for the family who would now be living off the fruit of Casey’s labors. It was Ryder who finally broke the silence.
“That does it for me,” he said. “I guess I’d better go earn my keep.” He winked at Casey, taking small delight in the fact that she didn’t welcome it, and tweaked her ear for the hell of it as he passed.
“Do you know where you’re going?” Casey asked, as he sauntered out of the room.
He paused, then turned, and once again, she was struck by the fact that his answer had nothing to do with the question she’d asked.
“No. But then it hasn’t really mattered for months now. Why should today be any different?”
When he disappeared, she was forced to accept the fact that not only had she married a stranger, but it would seem one with more secrets than he cared to tell.
She took a last gulp of her coffee and tossed down her napkin. If he had her troubles, he’d have something to complain about. She glanced at her watch. It was a quarter to nine. Past time for the boss to be at work. But, since she was the boss, she was going to finish her coffee.
Meanwhile, Ryder was making his way through the maze of rooms and getting a firsthand impression of the atmosphere in which Casey had grown up.
The mansion itself was grand—with three stories of granite blocks that came far too close to resembling a castle rather than a home.
The only thing Ryder felt was missing was a moat.
The snakes and crocodiles were already in place, but they walked on two legs, rather than four, and hid their sharp teeth behind fake smiles.
His footsteps echoed on the cold marble floors as he made his way toward the muted sound of voices coming from a room up the hallway and to the right. The breakfast room, he presumed.
As he entered the doorway, he paused, staring at the bright morning sun beaming in through spotless windows, through which an arbor of hot pink bougainvillea could be seen.
The crystal on the table was elegant. The china was a plain, classic white with a delicate gold rim, and the silverware gleamed with a high, polished gloss as the people in residence lifted it to their mouths.
Flowers were everywhere. Cut and in vases.
Growing from pots. In one-dimensional form, painted on canvas and framed, then hung at just the right level for the eye to see.
In spite of the heat of the day, Ryder shuddered.
Such elegance. Such cold, cold, elegance.
He thought of the woman who’d come storming into that bar with her long hair down and windblown, wearing that bit of a black dress, and tried to picture her being raised in a place like this.
For some reason, the little he knew of Casey didn’t jibe with these surroundings.
How could a woman with so much passion survive in a house with no joy—no life?
And Casey Ruban Justice had passion, of that he had no doubt. Most of the time she seemed to keep it channeled toward the business end of her world, but every so often her guard slipped, and had she known it, in those moments, Ryder saw more of her soul than she would have liked.
He settled his Stetson a little tighter on his head, as if bracing himself for a gale wind, and sauntered into the breakfast room as if he owned the place.
“Who wanted the ride?”
Three sets of equally startled expressions turned in his direction. Erica was still seething from his earlier put-down and chose to ignore him.
Miles stared, holding his cup of coffee suspended halfway between table and lips, trying to picture this clean-cut, larger-than-life cowboy as the same ragged derelict who’d come trailing in behind Casey yesterday morning.
Eudora gasped and set her cup down in its saucer with a sharp, unladylike clink.
“Why, it was me,” she said. “But I’m not quite ready.”
Ryder smiled. “I’ve got all day. Don’t hurry on my account.”
“For future reference, you need not come into the family area,” Miles drawled. “Simply wait out front.”
Ryder shifted his stance. It wasn’t much. Only an inch or so. But to Miles, it seemed to make the man that much taller. And it made Miles distinctly uncomfortable looking up at so much man.
“Look,” Ryder growled. “Let’s get one thing straight.
Like it or not, and I can’t say that I care much for it myself, for the time being, I am part of your family.
Therefore, do not expect me to scuttle around outside the back door like some damned stray dog looking for a handout. Do I make myself clear?”
Miles face turned a bloody shade of red. All he could do was splutter and look toward Erica, who was usually the more verbal of the pair, for support. Unaware that Ryder had already put her in her place, he was unprepared for his sister’s silence. He tried again.
“But Casey said…”
“Casey can say whatever she chooses,” Ryder said.
“However, you might want to remember that she’s my wife, not my boss.
And, you might also want to remember that while I mind my own business, I expect others to do the same.
” Then he touched the brim of his hat and winked at Eudora. “I’ll be outside when you’re ready.”
He walked out.
When he was halfway down the hall, the breakfast room seemed to erupt into a cacophony of sound. Three separate voices, all talking at once in various tones of disbelief. Unable to remember the last time he’d felt this alive, he grinned all the way out the door.