Comes the Night (Entangled Suspense) (8 page)

Chapter Thirteen

She ran along the path to the lake, laughing, her hair flowing behind her. If he ran just a little faster, he could catch her. The crisp winter air exaggerated the sound of their footsteps. Her curls sparkled with tiny snowflakes that fell faster and faster, until he lost sight of her in the swirl of white. “No!” he cried. “Wait for me.”

Thomas jerked awake and fought to slow the rapid beat of his heart. He sat up in bed, running one hand roughly along his jaw. Who was the woman in his dreams? Ace’s mother? He shook his head and forced himself to focus. He could handle only one nightmare at a time.

I have a fiancée.
Those four words kept repeating in his mind. And they didn’t bring with them the sense of rightness he’d felt when he found out he had a son.

He pulled on a pair of sweats and headed for the nursery, where he stood next to the crib, and rubbed his finger absently along the rail. His thoughts drifted again to the kiss. Not the one from his fiancée, but the one he’d shared with the nanny.

As if in response to his thoughts, the connecting door opened behind him.

…

The sun had yet to chase the night away when Lizzie rose from her restless sleep. A night spent burrowed under the covers with her precious picture had brought small comfort. Grabbing her robe, she hurried to check on Daniel.

Surprised to see Zach standing at the crib, she ran a nervous hand over her hair, which was in a ponytail, but not a bun. How gorgeous he was in the early morning, hair still tousled from sleep, dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt with bare feet.
Her husband
.

Unsmiling, they stared at each other until finally he broke the silence. “Hey.”

She was certain he looked at her and found her wanting compared to his supposed fiancée, with her perfect hair, designer clothes, and hourglass figure.

When she said nothing, he tried again. “About yesterday, I’m sorry. I–I would never—if I’d known I had a fiancée I never would have—”

Irrationally angry that he was apologizing, and nervous that they might be overheard, Lizzie interrupted harshly, “It’s fine.” What was wrong with her? She’d been so busy ogling him that she’d forgotten to mentally prepare herself for conversation.

“No, Maggie, please, we need to talk about it. I’m not the kind of man who takes advantage of employees—at least I don’t think I…”

He looked away and she softened as she watched him struggle with the possibility that maybe he had been the kind of man who took advantage of women in his employ.

“You’re not that type of man.” When he looked at her uncertainly, she attempted to smile. “Look, let’s just not talk about it.”

“But we need to talk about it.”

He stepped toward her. When she tried to turn away, he reached out to grab her upper arms. “What happened between us, it was—ouch!”

Just before she pulled away from him, she’d brought her bare heel down hard on his toes.

“What—”

“You need to do something about that table,” she blurted. “I’ve hit my shin on it before.” She wasn’t sure if the room was just audio recorded or being videotaped, but she hoped they were near enough the small table that it would appear Zach had hit his shin.

Placing her hands on his chest, she pushed him farther away, pinching him hard as her eyes told him to shut the hell up. “Look, you tried to kiss me. I understand. I’m the only woman you’ve really been around since you woke up…and we spend time together with Ace. Just keep your hands to yourself in the future.”

“What the…” He paused, apparently registering the panic in her eyes, and drew back, curiosity slowly giving way to a shuttered gaze. “I see.”

“Okay.” What exactly did he see? That she was crazy or…

“Yesterday meant nothing. I have Desiree and you…you have
my father
.” The mask of indifference he wore with others snapped into place, but not before she saw that he was hurt.

“Your father?” Before she could stop herself, the words spewed out. “That miserable, controlling old man?”

He tapped his fingers rapidly against his leg, paused, and then he reached for her again. The outer door opened, startling them both. His
fiancée
breezed in.

“Thomas, darling, and Mindy.” Desiree managed to convey measured displeasure, ending on a note of censure as she addressed Lizzie.

Mindy, huh?
Well, at least Zach hadn’t had a dog named Mindy. She’d be damned if she’d insist this fraudulent fiancée call her Maggie. She had much bigger things to worry about than a childish power play.

“I don’t really think it appropriate for you to be in here in your night attire.” Desiree perused Lizzie with disdain. “I
suggest
you change immediately.”

Lizzie’s eyes narrowed. Desiree turned to stroke her manicured fingernails along Zach’s arm.

With a glance at his impassive face, Lizzie turned to leave. Before the door shut behind her, she heard the sound of a not-so-platonic kiss, followed by a chipper, “How’s Mommy’s little Pooh Bear this morning?”

Daniel began to cry as his new
mommy
woke him. The sound penetrated the connecting door.
She changed quickly. With her hair pulled back in a bun and serviceable servant attire neatly in place, she entered the nursery without knocking. Neither Zach nor Desiree noticed her entry, engrossed as they were in conversation. She frowned as they laughed, chatting away in…French?

Zach looked up and she thought that perhaps the laughter didn’t quite reach his eyes.

…

What the hell was going on?

Thomas was careful to keep his confusion hidden as he conversed with Desiree. He felt as though he’d been thrust back into that hospital bed, a stranger in a world that made no sense. The emotional grounding he’d found in this nursery faded as his private world was invaded by Desiree…and the shadow of his father.

He was certain his father was the reason he’d just been stepped on and pinched. He just didn’t know why.

Laughing absently at something witty his fiancée said, he watched as Maggie reentered the room. Seeing that his attention had wandered, Desiree turned toward her. “Oh, Mindy, that’s much better. See to it that you’re in uniform before you enter the nursery in the future.”

He noticed the fire in Maggie’s eyes and looked forward to her response; however, he was disappointed and then concerned when the fire faded, replaced with fear that flickered so briefly he might have imagined it.

“Maggie.” He enunciated.

“What, dear?” Desiree’s immaculately groomed brows raised in question, framing her bright blue eyes—her tastefully made-up bright blue eyes. He glanced at the clock: 6:00 a.m.

“Her name is Maggie. She’s not a servant you can order around.” He looked at Maggie, who observed him closely. “Ace is your primary concern, your
only
concern. There’s no need for you to be fully dressed before you enter this room to care for him. The robe is fine.”

Running his hand along his jaw, he looked back at Desiree. “Maggie is a member of Ace’s family and I expect everyone in this household to treat her with respect.”

Tears appeared in Desiree’s bright eyes. “I’m sorry, Thomas. How was I supposed to know? Your father said that I was to take charge of Ace’s care. He said you needed my help. I just…I…” She sobbed delicately. “I didn’t want her to take advantage of you.” She leaned into his chest and he awkwardly patted her back, raising his eyes to the ceiling in a bid for patience before settling his gaze on Maggie again.

The little minx was laughing at him. Here he was defending her and she thought he was funny. Oh, her face was solemn, but her eyes sparkled. His brow furrowed as he realized it wasn’t a nice sparkle at all. A light flush graced her cheeks as he stared at her.

Desiree pulled out of his embrace, oblivious to the moment of understanding she’d interrupted. “Well, I’m glad we settled that. Maggie, my apologies. As you are to be treated like a member of the family, perhaps you’d care to join us for dinner tonight.”

Thomas watched in fascination as Maggie returned Desiree’s insincere smile with a false one of her own. “I appreciate the invitation, but Ace needs me. Right now, I think the little guy is hungry, so if you’ll excuse me…”

Before the battle of wills between the women could intensify, he placed a hand on Desiree’s back and guided her toward the door. “You never get a break, Maggie. We’ll get one of the maids to sit with Ace while you join us for dinner.”

This would be a perfect opportunity to observe her interacting with his father.

…

Daniel finished nursing and drifted to sleep, grasping his mother’s finger. Lizzie felt the stress drain from her body. One perfect moment in an otherwise perfectly horrible day. First Alistair had barged into the nursery and accused her of carousing in the woods with Zach and canceled her evening video of Sam. Then, he’d claimed Thomas was enamored of his fiancée. Enamored, ha! Desiree wasn’t even remotely Zach’s type. Before he left, the bastard had promised not to punish Sam for her mother’s
unfortunate behavior
, but he’d informed her that next time he might not be so generous.

Her fear for her daughter overwhelmed her. She, who wore her emotions for all to see, who had never been able to let something go if it bothered her, forced herself to compartmentalize, to manage the terror, at least for the moment. Zach would be amazed at her self-control. If he ever remembered her.

Once her fear was contained, the arrival of another unwelcome visitor saved her from wallowing in her remaining emotion—despair. Desiree intruded twice to visit her “sweet Pooh Bear” and Lizzie retreated to the chair on the far side of the room when she was there. No way was she leaving Daniel alone with that imposter! Ironically, while she was sure the visits were intended to demoralize her, they merely strengthened her resolve—resolve that needed boosting after her emotionally draining encounter with Alistair. She was Elizabeth Louise Weston, fighter, survivor! No one was going to get the best of her family.

Her need to be good and her need to fight warred within her.

At six o’clock there was a knock on the nursery door. Lizzie answered it and found a young woman standing there holding a bag from what appeared to be an exclusive boutique.

“Ms. Smith.” The woman held the bag out. “Mr. Forrester asked me to deliver this to you.”

Thanking her, Lizzie carried the bag into the nursery, shutting the door behind her. Inside was a large box.
Which Mr. Forrester?
She opened the box with trepidation, relaxing when she recognized Zach’s handwriting on a small envelope. With trembling hands she opened the flap and removed the small card.

I thought you might need something to wear to dinner. It’s unbearably formal.

Thomas.

Her hands shook as she unwrapped the tissue paper and withdrew a beautiful deep ruby wraparound dress in just her size.

Chapter Fourteen

Lizzie stood in front of the bathroom mirror. She ran her hands along her sides and over her hips, enjoying the silky feel of the expensive material. The dress was beautiful. The bag also contained a delicate black bra and panties, and an elegant pair of black patent heels. Tasteful with a suggestion of sexy.

Examining the pitiful array of cosmetics spread out on the counter, she wished Zach had remembered makeup when he made his shopping list. She’d only been carrying blush, mascara, and lip gloss in her purse when she was taken.

With a sigh, she applied her makeup and stopped to examine the results—there wasn’t anything she could do about the dark circles under her eyes, but she looked presentable. Now if only she could do something about her hair.

She was certain Alistair would extract a price if she wore it down, and she was stuck with the dull color. How far could she push without harming Sam? She replaced the bun with a simple twist, adding a touch of elegance to an otherwise utilitarian hairstyle.

Tucking an errant lock securely into place, she nodded to herself. She was armed and ready for battle.

…

Thomas despised formal dinners with his father. Adding Desiree to the mix hadn’t helped.

Although she claimed not to be fond of his father, Thomas sensed a rapport between them, the occasional shared glance that made him uncomfortable. He entered the dining room and paused; they were certainly pulling out all of the stops tonight. The amount of flatware and stemware was intimidating. Apparently he wasn’t the only person who’d be uncomfortable tonight. It appeared that someone was determined to keep Maggie in her place.

The discreet click of heels echoed in the corridor.

“Thomas, darling.” Desiree entered the room, resplendent in an ice-blue dress that emphasized the color of her eyes while the deep neckline emphasized her lovely assets. She was desirable while managing to convey a subtle “hands off” message.

Not really your type.

He forced a small smile as she walked toward him with runway precision, reaching up to kiss him and run her tongue suggestively along the seam of his lips. “It’s been too long, Thomas. Maybe tonight…” She let the words hang between them as she turned to survey the table. “Ah, perfect.”

“Perfect, indeed, Desiree,” Alistair said as he crossed the room to bestow a courtly kiss on her hand. “It is such a pleasure to have a woman of your impeccable taste presiding over the table.”

As Alistair and Desiree discussed the intricate dinner plans, Thomas walked to the side bar to pour a glass of scotch, already tired of their inane banter. Man, what he would give for a hamburger with all the trimmings right now! He was quietly observing his father and Desiree when he sensed a presence. His eyes were drawn to the doorway.

Maggie.

The dark red dress was perfect for her, complementing her slight form, from the close-fitting bodice to the wraparound skirt that flared gracefully at her hips before falling in gentle folds just above her knees. He had been very particular about the color when he spoke with the gardener, whose wife knew the shop owner on a nearby island, and he was pleased with how the color emphasized her gypsy eyes.

Her hairstyle should have been unattractive, pulled so severely back from her face, but instead it gave her an ethereal quality, as though she might be too fragile for this world. He ran his palm along his jaw. She was incredible.

He became aware that conversation on the other side of the room had stopped and tore his eyes from Maggie to observe his father and Desiree. Desiree’s eyes narrowed in disapproval, her lips pursing as though she’d swallowed something sour. Although he supposed it was rather bad of him, he found her response amusing.

His father’s response, however, amused him not at all. Alistair stared at Maggie with an appreciation wholly inappropriate for a man his age to show a young woman. The sight both angered and concerned Thomas.

“Mindy, oh, forgive me,
Maggie,
how”—Desiree paused delicately—“how charming you look.” The temperature in the room seemed to drop a few degrees. “Where in the world did you find that adorable
frock
?”

With a tentative look at Alistair, Maggie inhaled before replying. “It was delivered to my room earlier today…”

“I had it delivered it to her.” Thomas smiled at his father and fiancée. “After all, we couldn’t have her join us for dinner wearing her work clothes.” Seeing the stunned looks on their faces, he added a little shudder to emphasize their shared revulsion for the hideous nanny uniform. Only Maggie appeared to find him amusing. He might actually enjoy this formal dinner after all.

Desiree walked deliberately over to pat his cheek. “How terribly thoughtful of you, dear. However did you find the time in your busy schedule?”

By now ice practically dripped from her words. He decided he’d better dial down his enthusiasm.

“I asked one of the staff to have something delivered.” No one needed to know about his growing friendship with the gardener. “You know I…” He looked over her head at Maggie and stopped when he found Maggie’s attention focused on Alistair. Alistair was smiling at her, raising his glass in a silent toast. All earlier traces of her amusement had disappeared.

“You what, dear?”

Forcing his attention back to Desiree, he favored her with a smile. If he intended to get answers out of this dinner, he needed to lighten the mood. “I…oh, nothing. How about a drink?”

As he prepared everyone’s drinks, Alistair approached Maggie. “Maggie, my dear, what an absolutely stunning surprise you are. You are indeed lovely.”

Thomas gripped the ice tongs so hard that the cold metal bit into his skin as he watched his father grasp Maggie’s arm and lean close to kiss her.

It was only a kiss on the cheek, but it was more than a peck, lingering too long for propriety, marking her, it seemed, as property.

…

Lizzie fought the bile that rose in her throat, her eyes shooting daggers at Alistair’s satisfied smirk when he pulled back from her. Placing her hand on his forearm and covering it with his palm, he led her to the table and seated her with exaggerated gallantry.

When she looked up, her eyes collided with Zach’s. It calmed her to see that Alistair’s actions disturbed him as well. As he handed her a glass of sparkling cider, she smiled. “Thank you…for the drink and for the dress.”

Eyes softening, he inclined his head. “You’re very welcome.”

Dinner was served. Although she tried not to be intimidated, she realized Zach had never told her how formal, how refined—how upper class—his upbringing had been. He maneuvered through the complicated place setting without a second thought. Lizzie was certainly no stranger to fine food and good manners, but this blue-blood high society was foreign to her. From the multitude of dinnerware to the fancy foods with foreign names to the pithy discussion of rich-man topics and constant name-dropping, she was clearly and intentionally outclassed.

As the conversation shifted to French and Zach joined in effortlessly, she was again confronted with evidence that he belonged here—and the small hope she stubbornly held that Alistair was not his father diminished further. From the physical resemblance to the thoughtless grace with which he fit into this sophisticated world, it appeared Zach was in fact a Forrester.

Lost in her thoughts, she startled when a sautéed mushroom landed on her plate, smack in the middle of her wild rice. Looking up, she saw Zach seemingly engrossed in the conversation, a look of exaggerated innocence on his face.

Thankful for this small, foolish gesture that somehow said she mattered, her spirits revived. With a small twitch of her lips, she speared the mushroom and ate it.

The conversation faltered as Zach’s eyes sliced her way. Directing his attention back to Desiree, he spoke in English. “You’ll have to excuse me, but I’m afraid my French is a bit rusty.”

“Now, Thomas, don’t be ridiculous, your French is absolutely flawless.” Desiree wrinkled her brow. “Anyway, I’m afraid we’ve been neglecting our guest. So, Maggie, tell us about yourself.”

Lizzie glanced at Alistair, who merely raised an eyebrow.

To hell with him. If he wanted to play a game of cat and mouse, she was ready to play. She smiled at Desiree, inviting her to begin.

“Well, you are, pardon me for being indelicate, nursing my soon-to-be son. How does a woman choose this type of work? What in the world motivates a woman to…well…” Desiree’s voice trailed off as though she were too refined to describe the duties of a wet nurse.

Lizzie kept her gaze steady. “Love. Love is what motivates me. And an overwhelming desire to keep that beautiful boy safe.”

Stealing a quick glance at Zach, she thought he was moved by her words, but Desiree’s laugh was derisive.

“
Safe?
Really, Ms. Smith, the boy is surrounded by security. I hardly think he needs you to keep him safe.”

“There is much more to Ace’s safety that just his physical well-being, Desiree,” Zach interjected.

“Of course, Thomas, I didn’t mean…”

“Now, Desiree, there’s no need to apologize. Your point is perfectly valid.” Alistair assumed control of the conversation. “And Maggie, I must say, that self-satisfied look is a bit unbecoming for a woman who was unable to keep her own children safe.”

She felt the color drain from her face. She hadn’t expected Alistair to blindside her about her children in front of everyone.

“Yes, Maggie.” Alistair nodded sagely. “Why don’t you tell Thomas and Desiree how you lost your husband and your two children through your own poor judgment and lack of foresight.”

She sat, speechless. Surely he didn’t intend for her to tell the truth. She glanced at Zach and found his eyes steady on her face.

“Well, Maggie?” Alistair prodded. “And, of course, your judgment would never have been an issue if that man you married, that weakling Zach Weston, had protected his family. Instead, because of his negligence you lost them all in a terrible tragedy.”

Her lips trembled as a powerful combination of hatred and fear threatened to burst forth with the truth. “How dare you?” Her voice quivered. “How dare you insult a man who—”

“Maggie, Maggie. Now, you know I don’t mean to hurt your feelings”—his soothing voice raised the hairs at the back of her neck—“but I do tire of your foolish defense of that despicable man. He failed you. As a result you lost both your children.”

Lizzie removed her napkin from her lap and threw it on the table.

Not quite concealing her satisfaction, Desiree said, “Well, my goodness, this is certainly titillating dinner conversation, Alistair, but perhaps it is best saved for another time and place.” She gestured to Lizzie. “And perhaps you would be more comfortable finishing dinner in your room.”

“There’s no need for you to leave.” Zach stood abruptly. “Why don’t I refresh everyone’s drinks?”

“For heaven’s sake.” Desiree placed a well-groomed hand on his arm, her engagement ring sparkling in the chandelier’s light. “We have servants who can refill drinks.”

“I’d rather do it myself.”

Lizzie slipped her napkin back into her lap and waited, jaw clenched, for the next act in Alistair’s drama.

…

Thomas stepped to the sidebar. Intent on watching Maggie without appearing to, he hadn’t noticed at first when the discussion switched to French. Another in a series of attempts to shut her out. What had bothered him even more was that she didn’t seem to notice, lost in her own world of despair as she moved her food around her plate.

He missed the vibrant woman who’d first stepped into the dining room, a determined set to her shoulders. A warrior prepared to do battle with the rich and conceited. So he waited until his father and Desiree were engrossed in yet another worthless topic and launched a small mushroom at her plate. When she’d pierced it with her fork and eaten it, oh man, it was the sexiest thing he’d seen in, well, memory.

But now he was no longer worried or amused. He was confused. And angry. Everyone here was keeping secrets from him. It was bad enough that he’d followed Maggie to his father’s rooms, but now it was also clear that Alistair knew a great deal about her past—and her pain—and was apparently willing to use it against her.

He’d seen the guilt on her face when his father accused her of failing to keep her children safe. Children!
She’d lost not one, but two children?

And where was this unreasonable jealousy coming from? He’d been sitting here, uncomfortable with his father’s attraction to Maggie, telling himself it was because Alistair was too old for her, that a dark undercurrent shadowed his treatment of her. But now he feared that his jealousy was rooted in something much more elemental, because from the moment she’d passionately defended him, he’d despised the man who failed her.

Zach
.