Her Faux Fiancé (4 page)

“Agreed.”

They pulled into her grandparents’ driveway. Through a blur of unshed tears, she noted the white siding needed a clean and the red trim had faded to a dingy pink. Her grandmother had always kept the house and garden immaculate, and Lara Thordarson had been famous for her white geranium arrangements. When Analise had first left Manitoba, she’d put a drop of geranium oil on her pillow every night to help her sleep.

Now a few dead lobelia and dried up pelargoniums hung out of forgotten baskets. The grass in front of the house was yellowing and knee-high. She’d dreamt of her homecoming so many times. This wasn’t what she’d seen in her mind. She blinked rapidly, not wanting Erik to see her cry.

The car bounced up the rutted drive, bottoming out on some of the larger potholes. Erik grimaced at a particularly nasty scraping sound.

“We should have brought the SUV,” Analise said past the lump in her throat.

“I’ll get it with one of my cousins and bring it to you.”

“Don’t bother. Granddad and I will collect it later.”

“It’s not a problem.”

“It is for me. Granddad and I will collect it later.”

Erik shot her a look, but she wouldn’t relent. She had the feeling he wasn’t used to people saying no to him, in business or personal matters. Well, he’d have to get used to it. Jean-Claude had called all the shots for the past four years. Analise was going to live her own life from now on.

Except she’d stupidly agreed to play the part of Erik’s loving fiancée for the next three weeks.

I guess the compulsion of doing everything to please others is going to be harder to break than I expected.

He pulled the car to a stop in front of the house, yet no one emerged from the dwelling. She dragged her weary body out of the car and climbed the three steps to the wraparound porch, not realizing that Erik had come to stand beside her until his arm went around her shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. Her heart pounded, and without his support she might have swayed. The doctor had warned her not to do too much too soon. Evidently, flying for eighteen hours and then driving for almost two counted as too much.

She walked around the porch to the kitchen entrance then stopped. Should she knock? Just go in? This had been her home for three years, but it wasn’t anymore. Before her knuckles could make contact with the peeling paint on the door, it opened. She blinked to adjust her eyes to the dim light inside the house. Her grandfather stood before her, his shirt missing a button, a brown stain on the collar. His clothes hung off him as though they’d been purchased three sizes too big.

Gunnar Thordarson was a large man. Analise had always imagined he was what Vikings had looked like. Now his shoulders stooped, his hand shook as he ran it over his messy beard, and his once lively blue eyes were murky, almost gray. Still, when he caught sight of her standing at the door, he opened his arms wide and swept her into a hug.

She choked back a sob against her grandfather’s chest. Thirteen years ago, when she’d been exiled to this corner of the world, thousands of kilometers from anywhere and anyone familiar, her grandfather had taken her in his arms and promised to be there for her. His love and her grandmother’s had gotten her through one of the worst periods of her life. Now she needed to be there for him.

“Welcome home, sweet.” Gunnar’s gruff voice still boomed in his chest.

Analise stepped back but kept hold of her grandfather’s hands. “It is
so good
to see you,
Afi
.” The Icelandic term for grandfather rolled off her tongue without a second thought.

“Hello, Mr. Thordarson,” Erik said. She had forgotten he was still there.

Her grandfather looked the younger man up and down, a frown creasing his brow until he seemed to recognize who it was. “Erik Sigurdson?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What are you doing here with my granddaughter?”

She smiled. Evidently, old habits were hard to break for everyone, and her grandfather had immediately slipped once more into a protector role.

Erik put his arm around her shoulder again and waited for her to look up at him. “Aren’t you going to tell your granddad, love?”

Love?
Erik really was taking this role of fiancé seriously. Her real fiancé had never even called her that.

“Tell me what?” Gunnar crossed his arms over his chest. He might have lost weight and shrunk some, but he could still appear intimidating.

She hesitated until Erik squeezed her shoulder. She’d made a deal; it was time to play her part. “We’re engaged,” she said, trying to inject a note of enthusiasm into her voice.

“You didn’t mention this on the phone,” her granddad accused.

“The phone line was terrible. I could hardly understand a word you were saying. And I thought it would be better to present Erik to you in person.” She swallowed on the lie.

“Well, if you’re happy, I’m happy. I take it you’ll be staying over at the Sigurdsons’, then?” Gunnar’s shoulders fell again, and the animation that had come over his features at seeing her disappeared.

“No, I’m staying here,” she said quickly. “I mean, as long as that’s okay with you,
Afi
.”

A smile lit up his face once more. “Of course it’s okay. This is your home.”

Analise turned back to Erik. “I’m exhausted,
chéri.
I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Erik nodded, but before she could turn away, he put a hand on her chin and tilted her face up for his kiss. His lips pressed a gentle caress against hers. It was stupid because she knew it was all just part of the act, but it made her feel special—something she hadn’t experienced in an awfully long time.

“Sleep well, my love. I’ll be by in the morning.” Erik saluted Gunnar; then, jumping from the porch, he climbed into the BMW, leaving a trail of dust as he drove down the long drive.

Mon Dieu, what have I got myself into now?

Erik turned up the music and tapped against the steering wheel in time with the country beat. If he’d planned it for years, today couldn’t have turned out any better. He was on the verge of crushing his enemy. And pretending to be Analise’s fiancé meant he got to kiss and hold her whenever he wanted. Which, face it, was no hardship. She was even more beautiful than he remembered.

He’d been infatuated with Analise from the first. She’d come to live with her grandparents following the death of her mother. Straight from Paris, the young French girl had seen the tiny town of Akureyri as the worst kind of exile. With her exoticism and beauty, she hadn’t been welcomed by the other local teenage girls. She’d also been tarred with the same brush that had painted her father as a bad lot when he’d seduced and got Gunnar’s teenage daughter pregnant. The fact that Analise was the innocent result of that bad behavior didn’t seem to matter to the town gossips.

His sister, Karen, who had always been on the outside of the popular cliques, had latched on to Analise, and the two had quickly become best friends. Erik had been away at university at the time and only met Analise after she’d been in Manitoba for several months. He could still remember the pain in those uniquely aqua-colored eyes and the vulnerability in her smile.

Over the summers he’d spent on his grandparents’ farm, he’d gotten to know her—her quick laugh, shy smile, and the way she’d look at him when she didn’t think he was watching. She’d been interesting to talk to, as well. Having lived in Europe, she had a different outlook than those he knew who had never been beyond the Manitoba borders. And she’d been so sweet to his family, helping out in the house when his mom or grandmother were ill, making birthday and anniversary cards for his grandparents as though they were her own. Laughing at his father’s awful jokes.

Yeah, they’d been good times. For God’s sake, he’d been excited just to get up in the morning, knowing he’d see her that day. And morning joy was nothing on the nights he’d spent dreaming about her in his bed.

When he’d come back to the farm for his sister’s graduation ceremonies, Analise had turned eighteen, and he’d been unable to resist her any longer. And to his immense relief, she seemed as into him as he was to her. The kisses they’d shared had lingered in his memory for years.

He’d intended to see her grandfather and ask permission to start dating his granddaughter. After the scandal surrounding her parents’ marriage, Erik wanted to ensure their relationship was aboveboard. Unfortunately, he had to go back to Winnipeg the following day for an interview, and by the time he’d returned, everything had changed.

But that girl was gone. The few smiles he’d seen from her today had been tinged with defiance. She was definitely tougher now. So why did he still want to take her in his arms and tell her everything would be all right? When he knew that, until he’d sorted out the past, nothing would be right.

For now, however, they were pretending to be engaged, and he was damn sure going to enjoy it.

He pulled into his grandparents’ drive to see his mother sitting on the porch swing, the now-empty glass of wine still in her hand. Okay, there was a tiny flaw in the day. Stopping the car, he took a deep breath and went to talk with her, hoping she wasn’t too drunk. He’d failed his sister; he couldn’t let his mother down as well. He didn’t blame his father for leaving, but it meant Erik was the only one left to pick up the pieces.

“How’s it going, Mom?”

She raised blurry eyes to his. “I’m sorry, Erik. I forgot about Analise’s mother. Now I’ve ruined everything.” A sob caught on a hiccup.

Erik sat next to her on the swing, moving the empty bottle of wine out of the way. “You haven’t ruined anything, Mom. You just need to back off a little. We’re newly engaged, that’s all, and we haven’t discussed wedding plans. We’re here for Gran and Gramps’ sixty-fifth. Let’s just concentrate on that for now. Okay?”

Because he wasn’t going to even fictitiously plan a wedding with a woman who ran the second things got tough.

Besides, he had other things to concentrate on while he was here. Like making sure the man responsible for Karen’s death paid the price.

Yes, he’d fix the past, enjoy the present, and then figure out what he wanted for his future.

• • •

Analise stepped down the narrow hall and walked back in time. She opened the door to her old room, automatically stopping the door before it creaked.

She might as well have been eighteen again. The room hadn’t changed. Posters of Arabian stallions and long-forgotten pop stars still adorned the walls. A hairbrush and curling iron sat on the dresser, waiting to be called to action. She noticed a small vase of daisies next to the bed. Her grandmother had always kept fresh flowers in every room, even in winter. There were none left alive in the garden.
Afi
must have made a special effort and bought some just for her.

“I hope it’s okay. I washed the sheets, but I’m not very good at making beds, so you might have to fix it.”

“It’s wonderful,
Afi
. Thank you,” she whispered. A lump was stuck in her throat.

“I’ll let you rest now. Then maybe we can get some dinner at Rosie’s when we go to pick up your vehicle.”

Her grandfather backed out of the room and closed the door behind him.

Analise sat on the bed, sinking into the soft mattress. A framed photo of her and Karen was propped up against the bedside lamp. She picked it up and ran the tip of her finger over her best friend’s face.

What would my life be like if Karen had lived? If I had stayed on in Akureyri? Worked with Afi in the stables?
Married Erik and had his babies?

A tear trickled down her face and landed on the glass covering the photo. She had to be more tired than she’d thought for the tears to fall so freely. Flipping the photo over, she released the clips at the back and removed the cardboard holding the glass and photo in the frame. Sandwiched between the backing and the photo was another, smaller picture. One she’d stolen from her best friend.

Erik looked so much younger, yet her heart rate still accelerated when she saw his face. He’d been her first love, the reason she hadn’t gone with Karen to the party that ultimately led to her death. Instead of celebrating with her fellow grads, she’d stayed at home and prepared for her first proper date with Erik. After he asked her granddad, they were going to drive into the city and, well, dinner and a movie weren’t the only things on the agenda.

Putting the photos away in the bedside table, she shut off the memories. Wishes wouldn’t change the past, or the future for that matter. She grabbed her handbag from where she’d slung it on the bed and searched inside for the vial of antibiotics. A swig of water from the bottle she’d bought at the airport helped two of the pills down.

She bit her bottom lip as she eased her jeans past the large bandage wrapped around her upper thigh. Thankfully, there was no sign of blood or oozing. Still, it hurt like heck. Wishing she’d also filled the prescription for painkillers, she lay back on the bed and covered herself with the homemade patchwork quilt, wrapping herself in her grandmother’s love.

• • •

The room was dark when Analise woke. A faint shaft of pink light came through the gap in the curtains. A glance at the clock revealed it to be five thirty in the morning. She’d slept for over twelve hours. The pain in her leg had lessened to a dull throb, and her stomach protested the lack of food.

Gingerly, she climbed out of bed and opened her duffel bag, instinctively stepping over the floorboards that squeaked.
Afi
must have brought her things in while she slept. Next to the bag sat her camera cases. She would have loved a shower but didn’t want to wake her grandfather at this early hour. Pulling on a pair of yoga pants and a t-shirt, she made her way to the kitchen, hoping to find a cup of coffee and a slice of the
vinnaterta
she’d bought yesterday.

The enticing aroma of fresh-brewed coffee filled the kitchen. Next to the pot sat the cup she’d always used as a teenager and a slice of cake covered in plastic wrap. Analise filled her cup, added a spoon of sugar, and leaned against the scratched and worn wood counter. A rhythmic
squeak
came from the porch. Opening the door, she found her grandfather sitting on one of the rockers, watching the sun rise over the neighbor’s wheat field. The soft, pink rays turned the still-green crop a dusty rose color.