The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings Book 2) (18 page)

“I don’t have anything to give anyone.” Edward took her callused hand and put it on the center of his chest. “And I am cold.”

“I know. And I know lots else ’bout you. I’ve worked ’round animals all my life. I don’t expect any horse to be more or less than they are. And there’s no reason for people to be any different than they are, either.”

It
was the strangest thing. Ever since he had been kidnapped out of that hotel in South America, he had been tight all over his body. First out of terror. Later, from the pain as the torture and starvation had ground him down. And then, after the rescue, his body hadn’t functioned well on so many levels—and there had also come the fight to keep his mind from cannibalizing itself.

But now, in this quiet darkness, he felt a vital loosening.

“I can feel you staring at me,” he said softly.

“That’s because I am. And it’s okay. Like I said, you don’t owe me a thing. I don’t expect nothin’ from you.”

For some reason, he thought of Moe Brown’s son, Joey. Handsome, strapping kid, just her age. Great around the horses, as good natured as they came, and no dummy.

She needed to be spending her nighttime hours with somebody like that.

“So why are you doing this?” he murmured.

“That’s my decision, ain’t it. My choice that I don’t need to explain to nobody, includin’ you.”

Her calm, forthright declaration, coupled with the conception that he was accepted just exactly as he was … furthered the strange and miraculous uncoiling in him.

And the longer he lay next to Shelby, the more his body eased. Or perhaps it was his soul. But then Shelby was the only person who didn’t compare him to who he had been. She didn’t have any past with him to mourn. She wasn’t looking for him to triumph over his tragedy, to rejoin the BBC, to helm his family.

He was a horse recovering from an injury, out to pasture, exposed to the elements … that she was prepared to feed and care for. Probably because that was the only thing she knew to do when confronted with suffering.

The exhale he released took years off of him. In fact, he had been unaware of the weight he was carrying inside his heart. Or the resentment he had against everybody that had been in his old life. In fact … the truth was, he hated them all, hated every one of them who stared at him with pitying
eyes and shock and sadness. He wanted to scream at them that he hadn’t volunteered for what had happened to him, or what he looked like, or where he had ended up—and that his tragedy was none of their fucking business.

They thought it was upsetting laying their eyes on him? Screw that. He’d had to live through and with it all.

And yes, he even resented Sutton even though she was no more at fault than any of the rest of them.

Shelby, though … Shelby was free of all that. She was clean compared to their contamination. She was fresh air in a garbage dump. She was a vista in what was otherwise a cell with no windows.

Edward groaned as he pushed himself onto his shoulder and kissed her back. And beneath his lips, her mouth was as open and honest as she was. He hardened instantly.

But instead of getting under her sweatshirt and into her jeans, he pulled back and tucked her against him.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?”

He just shook his head. And then he closed his eyes.

For the first time in what felt like forever, he drifted off to sleep … stone-cold sober.

“M
arriage, huh.”

As Lizzie stood above Lane, she took his face in her hands and smiled so hard her cheeks hurt. God, he was so handsome, so shatteringly attractive, even with the bags under his eyes and his five-o’-clock—make that nine forty-five p.m.—shadow and his hair that was growing out shaggy from its trim.

“You’re asking me to marry you?” she heard herself say. And yes, she was a little breathless.

He nodded. “And can I just tell you? Your smile right now is one for the ages.”

“You
know”—she passed her hands through his hair—“I’m not one of those women who planned their wedding when they were five.”

“This is not a surprise.”

“I’m not even sure I want to wear a dress, and I’m not doing it in a church.”

“I’m an atheist, so that works.”

“And the smaller, the better. That last thing I’m interested in is some big society event.”

He swept his hands up and down the backs of her legs, kneading, stroking, turning her on. “Got it.”

“And your divorce—”

“It’s an annulment, really. And Samuel T. is taking care of all that.”

“Good—”

As Lane raised his hand like he was in school, she said, “Mmm?”

“Is that a yes?”

Bending down, she pressed her lips to his. “It absolutely is a yes.”

Next thing she knew, he took her onto the chaise lounge, his heavy, warm body rolling on top of hers, and then they were kissing deeply and laughing and kissing some more. And then she was naked and so was he.

She gasped his name as he entered her, and oh, God, he was good, penetrating her nice and deep, stretching her, dominating her. She’d never told him how much she liked the feel of him on her, how she craved the times when he took her wrists and held her down, how the sessions where he was greedy and a little rough turned her on.

But he knew.

Then again, Lane knew everything about her, and this proposal was perfect. Nothing showy, or fancy, and no, she didn’t want some big diamond from him, either. All she needed was him. All she wanted was the two of them together.

So they were starting this engagement off on the right foot as far as she was concerned.

Yes, Lane was surrounded by chaos. Yes, there was no way of knowing how any of this was going to shake out. And no, most women with half a
brain wouldn’t sign on for someone with his background—not even the gold diggers, now.

But love had a funny way of giving you faith in the one who loved you back. And nothing was guaranteed in life, neither riches nor health. At the end of the day, you just had to let yourself go … and the best place to land was in the arms of a good man.

As pleasure rocketed through her, Lizzie called out his name and felt his head drop into her neck as he cursed and jerked deep inside of her. So beautiful. So perfect. Especially as he hugged her close afterward.

“God, I love you,” he said in her ear. “You’re the only thing that makes sense right now.”

“I’m not scared,” she whispered. “You and I are going to figure this out. Somehow. And we’re going to be okay. That’s all that matters to me.”

Inching back, his blue eyes were the stuff of romance novels, reverent, sincere, full of love. “I’m going to get you a ring.”

“I don’t want one.” She stroked his hair again, flattening it where she had messed it up. “I don’t like anything on my hands or my wrists. Not with my job.”

“So a diamond watch is out?”

“Definitely—”

His phone rang in his pocket and he shook his head. “I don’t care who that is. I’m not—”

“You should probably—”

He settled the issue by kissing her, his body starting to move again. And Lizzie went along with it. There were so many worse things in life than making love with your new fiancé on a warm Kentucky night.

The problems would be waiting for them when they were finished. This little slice of heaven? Was only for the two of them.

A party no one else was invited to.

B
y
the time the crème caramel was cleared, Sutton was ready to scream. It wasn’t the conversation. Governor Dagney Boone and Thomas Georgetow, the president of the University of Charlemont, were great company, two of the most powerful men in the state bantering back and forth like the old friends they were. The other people around the table were also wonderful: Georgetow’s wife, Beryline, was as Southern and lovely as a sweet tea on a hot afternoon, and the Reverend and Mrs. Nyce, the leaders of the largest Baptist community in the state, were as solid as granite and as uplifting as a sunbeam.

Under any other circumstances, she would have enjoyed the evening. Sure, there was an underlying purpose to it, but they were all good people, and the family chef had outdone himself.

Edward, however, had managed to ruin it for her. If that man stayed up nights trying to get under her skin, he couldn’t do a better job.

Dagney was
not
interested in her. That was crazy.

“So …” The governor eased back in the Queen Anne style chair to Sutton’s right. “I think we should all thank Miss Smythe for her hospitality.”

As
coffee cups were raised, Sutton shook her head. “It’s been my pleasure.”

“No, it’s been ours.”

The governor smiled at her, and God help her, all she could hear was Edward’s voice in her head. And that led to other things, other memories. Especially of the last time she had gone to see him when they had—

Stop it, she told herself.

“We missed your father tonight,” the governor said.

“Yes, how is he?” the Reverend Nyce asked.

Sutton took a deep breath. “Well, actually, you all will hear the details tomorrow, but he’s stepping down. And I am replacing him as CEO.”

There was a momentary lull, and then Dagney said, “Congratulations and condolences at the same time.”

“Thank you.” She inclined her head. “It’s a complicated time personally, but professionally, I know exactly what I’m doing.”

“The Sutton Distillery Corporation could not be in better hands.” The governor smiled and toasted her with his decaf. “And I look forward to presenting you with some of our new tax code proposals. You’re one of the biggest employers in the state.”

It was strange, but she could feel the shift toward her, the people at the table, even the governor, regarding her with a different focus. She’d sensed it first at the finance committee meeting this morning, and then when she’d interacted with senior management throughout the day. Positional power, it was called—and with the torch changing hands, the respect her father had been paid was now hers by virtue of her promotion.

“And this is why I asked you all here,” she said.

“I would have come happily for the dessert,” the Reverend Nyce said as he gestured to his clean plate. “That was evidence of the good Lord, as far as I’m concerned.”

“Amen,” Georgetow interjected. “I would ask for seconds—”

“But I would tell his doctor,” Beryline finished for him.

“She is my conscience.”

Sutton waited for the laughter to die down, and then she found herself fighting back tears. Clearing her throat, she composed herself.

“My
father means the world to me.” She looked up to the portrait of him that hung on the wall on the opposite end of the room. “And I would like to recognize his contributions to this state and the community of Charlemont in some significant ways. After much thought, I would like to endow a chair at the University of Charlemont in economics in his name. I have a check for five million dollars to that end, and I am prepared to gift that amount tonight.”

There was a gasp from the president—and with good reason. She knew damn well gifts that big didn’t come in every day to the university, and certainly not without considerable plying and cultivation on their part. Yet here she was, tossing it into his lap. After his favorite dessert.

Georgetow sat back in his chair. “I am … I had no idea—thank you. The university thanks you for this, and it will be an honor to have his name further associated with the school.”

There would also be a similar endowment set up at Kentucky University, not that she was going to bring that up at this dinner: She and her family were KU fans when it came to basketball—something that, again, wasn’t spoken about around Georgetow.

Sutton looked at the Reverend Nyce. “My father is not a religious man, but he respects you unlike any other man of God in the state. I would therefore like to endow a scholarship fund for African-American students in his name to be administered by you. It will cover the tuition and books of any Kentucky state school.” She jokingly put her hand up to Georgetow. “And yes, even Kentucky University. We need more skilled workers in the Commonwealth who are committed to establishing and keeping their careers here. Further, my father has long had a commitment to the underserved, particularly in the West End. This will help.”

The Reverend Nyce reached over and took her hand. “The sons and daughters of the five-oh-two thank you and your family for this generosity. And I’ll make sure this opportunity is shepherded well in your father’s name.”

She squeezed his palm. “I know you will.”

“Steer them our way first,” Georgetow joked. “You and your good wife are both alumni, after all.”

The
reverend lifted his coffee cup. “That goes without saying. I bleed red first and foremost.”

“Boys, boys, you’re in mixed company here.” Sutton pointed to herself and then turned to the governor. “And finally, I would like to make a gift to the state in my father’s name.”

Dagney smiled. “I will accept anything—”

“I purchased thirty thousand acres in eastern Kentucky this afternoon.” The governor stiffened in his chair. “You … you were the one.”