Chapter 3
The conversation with his dad and uncle had left him feeling curious.
Someone was occupying the cottage along the shoreline.
The last time someone had taken that cottage had been a year ago, a writer looking for some creativity.
His uncle had gotten involved with the woman.
The romance had lasted for as long as she was in town.
Kenneth also recalled the woman had expected more from the relationship. It had taken some doing from his uncle to get through to her that it was over.
Now someone else was there. Had been there for a week it seemed. The rumors had already started. She looked like a model and paid in cash. Birchwood was a very small town, and nothing was private.
With that in mind, he decided to see for himself what all the fuss was about. After all, the cottages belonged to the company, and it was his right to check out the occupants.
He had arrived home from the club, restless and edgy, something that was not usually his style.
Taking one of the jeeps, he made his way there, stopping at the edge of the dirt road and making the rest of the way on foot.
It was a lovely area. In fact, most of Birchwood was lovely, as close to paradise as one could get.
He had been all over the world and realized that he would always come back here.
This place was home to him. The quiet serenity, the feel of intimacy. It did not matter that anything he did was closely scrutinized. He was used to people being interested in his activities.
He had grown up here, and it meant little or nothing to him. He did not have anything to hide in the first place. And his relationships were always out of town. Unlike his dad and uncle, he preferred to keep that aspect of his life private.
And he had come bearing gifts. A smile touched his face as he hefted the basket from the backseat of the vehicle and tested its weight. Lincoln had packed everything except the kitchen sink into the basket, he thought ruefully.
Their chef, affectionately called Link, was more than an employee. The man had been with the family since before Kenneth was born and ran the household, including the occupants. The manor was entirely his domain. He was considered family and could get away with practically anything.
Lifting the basket, he closed the door and scanned the area. There was smoke coming from the chimney, which meant the woman was at home. He had gotten all the relevant information and a detailed description of Lydia Wallace. And had no idea why he was so hell bent on meeting her.
Perhaps it was boredom. He had been out of the country for almost two weeks now, nailing down a business deal. And had ended a very pleasant relationship and was asking himself why.
Merva had plainly said they could go back to his room, taking one for the road, but he had declined. Now he was wondering if he was all kinds of fool.
No one was answering his knock. After knocking for a few minutes, he tried the door. It was unlocked of course. There were no locked doors in Birchwood.
The crime rate was low, making the precinct little more than a decoration in town. Pushing the door open, he wandered through the narrow hallway into the living room, where there was a cozy fire burning inside the hearth.
Turning around, he went into the kitchen and thankfully placed the heavy basket on the table nestled beneath the window.
He just happened to glance outside and saw her sitting on the deck overlooking the water.
The sun was just going down, a fiery blaze disappearing beneath the horizon and casting its orange light on the woman sitting on the deck with her knees drawn up to her chin.
He could only see her from behind and what he saw had his interest piqued.
Straightening, he had a brief look around the kitchen, before making his way out.
Wrapping his jacket around himself firmly to ward off the sudden chill permeating the air, he bypassed the deck and made his way along the rocky incline that led to the area facing the water.
He did not want to frighten her and made as much noise as he could to alert her to his approach.
He saw when she stiffened, head lifting as he skirted the front.
"Hi." Keeping his smile neutral, it took all of his will not to show the surprise and shock spearing through his heart as he got his first look at her face. Skin as dark as ebony and just as flawlessly beautiful was his first impression.
The short cut of her hair highlighted the shape of an unusual face. Eyes the color of mahogany stared at him coolly, the irritation at being invaded apparent. "I stopped at the cottage, and you were not there."
"So, you decided to search until you found me. What do you want?"
Her voice was another surprise. Husky with a definitely sexy edge to it and very cultured. Obviously, a very highly educated woman. "To officially welcome you to Birchwood." He made the last few steps towards the deck and held out a hand. "I am Kenneth Tierney."
The only thing he received for his trouble was an arching of her tapered brows as she made no move to take his hand. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"
Feeling like a gauche fool, he dropped his hand and shoved them into the pockets of his denims. No woman had ever made him feel like such a country bumpkin before and he had to tamp down the resentment.
"I brought you a present and left it on the table in the kitchen.
" He saw the anger kindling even before he finished the sentence.
"You went inside? Who the hell gave you that right?
What? You own the damn town, so you're free to invade another person's privacy?
" She had never been so angry in her life.
"Where I come from, that's called breaking and entering.
But I suppose in this tiny town in the middle of nowhere, everyone just comes and goes as they damn well please and stepping into another's place of residence is just any old thing to do. Next time, wait until you're invited."
He felt like a fool and because he was not used to being dressed down like a schoolboy caught with his hand in the cookie jar, it angered him.
Not to mention that she was looking at him as if he was something she scraped off the bottom of her shoe.
He was just being neighborly and in a town like Birchwood it was the custom to reach out to someone from out of town.
The woman was behaving as if she had been caught with her clothes off. And after he had struggled with a basket filled with goodies for her!
"Listen," his green eyes darkened as his mouth tightened. "I do not appreciate you talking to me as if I entered your place and robbed you blind. All I offered you was the original Birchwood welcome by taking you a gift. You don't have to be such a bitch about the entire thing."
For a minute there was a humming silence, broken only by the lapping of water and the cries of several birds in the nearby trees as they glared at each other.
Aria had the grace to feel ashamed at her outburst. He had caught her by surprise while she was sitting here feeling sorry for herself.
She was usually politely courteous and what she had just said was beneath her.
But he had no right going inside the cottage without her permission. That was unacceptable.
"I'm not going to apologize." She murmured, lifting her pointed chin.
Kenneth felt the anger draining as he continued to stare at her. At the first look at her face, he had felt it. That sharp jolt of recognition that took his breath away. And he knew.
It might sound stupid to someone else, but he knew without a doubt that he had found her. He had found the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
It was unsettling. And one of the reasons was because he knew deep down that this woman was not going to be easy to convince. He saw the trace of tears on her cheeks and the sadness beneath the anger.
"I don't expect you will." He responded easily.
It was a struggle to appear normal, when his insides were churning like a restless sea.
"How about we start over. I'm Kenneth Tierney and would like to welcome you to our fair city.
We might be a tiny town in the middle of nowhere, but we happen to be kind to strangers, especially ones who are paying. "
She refused to be drawn in by his charms, and she noticed he had lots of it.
She knew men like him of course. She had been with men like him and knew better.
With that in mind, she gave him a cool look before rising.
"Thanks for the welcome. I'm assuming you know your way back.
" She turned to look around. "How did you get here? I did not hear the sound of a vehicle."
"I parked at the end of the street."
Her eyes were suspicious as she turned her gaze on him. "So, you could sneak up on me?"
Biting off a sigh, he climbed the steps and joined her. "Why would I want to do such a thing?" he asked mildly.
"I don't know the practices of men who live in small towns."
He merely gave her a glance that had her feeling small.
"Are you usually this biased?"
"I'm not." Giving him a searing look, she started walking. "I'm not inviting you in."
"I want to see the look on your face when you see what I brought you. And I also want the pleasure of hearing you apologize."
"You're going to be waiting a very long time." They had reached the cottage by then. Striding up the steps, she pushed the door open. When she did not object to him following, he blew out a breath of relief. It did not surprise him that he was reluctant to leave.
She went straight to the kitchen and stood there looking at the enormous basket.
"Go on," he invited. "It's not going to bite."
Turning to give him a searing look, she approached the table and flipped the covers open. He caught the look of surprise before she managed to close it off.
"This is a lot."
"Our chef and ruler of our household decided to pack what he thought you would need."