Trust Me (65 page)

“Then
maybe his threat against her was for his own safety. He was afraid of what you would do; just like the other boys, if they even knew how you felt about her. They were frightened of your reaction. You need to talk to Andrew; you need to confront him on this and find out why he did what he did.”

“You’re
amazing,” he smiled, pulling her into his arms. “You could talk a jumper off the roof; do you know that?”

“You
just need to step back and look at the whole picture, without the emotion.”

“Like
you did with Cathy?” he asked gently. “You may have been angry with me for opening your eyes, but you finally stepped back and saw what I was telling you was the truth."

“I
guess I’ve always known how she treated me; I just didn’t want to see it or acknowledge it. She is my sister and I wanted things to be calm. That’s why I think you need to talk to Andrew. You need to get the feelings of the past straight, so you can bury them and move forward.”

“You
should have been a shrink,” he teased, kissing her forehead.

“What
about the house? Are you still going to buy it?” Creighton frowned.

“I
really did want it. I still think it’s the best place to raise a family.”

“How
did the local boys, and girls for that matter, treat you after Miriam’s father attacked you?” Sandra asked, watching the frown slowly creep across his face again.

“When
I went back to school, everyone asked how I was, but that was about it. During my recovery, I had a lot of them stop by and bring me homework, talk, visit, that sort of thing. Some of the other boys and their fathers came by and helped my dad with the chores, since Andrew and Derek had to go back to school. I guess, all in all, they didn’t really treat me any differently; maybe a little more sympathetic. The girls especially would bring me biscuits, or sweeties. I got a boxful of get-well cards and flowers.”

“See?
They didn’t hold anything against you or think anything bad about you. They realized that it could have been any one of them in your place and a weaker boy would not have survived that kind of torture. Creighton, the community banded together to help your father. You had their respect; there is no other way to explain it. I know from living in a small town, if a person isn’t liked in the community the people don’t go out of their way to help them.”

“Every
time I think there isn’t a chance in hell I could love you more; you do something that makes me realize how wrong I was.” Creighton held her close to his chest, kissing her face, her ear and finally her lips. Sandra sighed into him, her lips parting under his insistent demand, battling with his tongue eagerly. At least he was no longer angry.

“What
about the house?” she asked again a few breathless moments later.

“I’ll
have my solicitor e-mail me the papers. It’s ours if you want it.”

“Ours?”
she asked, frowning as he looked down at her.

“Yes.
You are still going to marry me, aren’t you? Or did Miriam’s confession turn you off the idea?” Sandra smiled as she looked at the childish expression on the man’s face, shy and apprehensive at once.

“I
guess I just didn’t think of it as being our house,” she said softly.

“Are
you having second thoughts?” he asked his tone sincere. “You don’t have to sign the papers if you don’t want to. I know everything is going kind of fast so we can sit on the offer for a few days. Hell, he’s sat on mine for a year.”

“I
would never have taken you as a vindictive sort of man.”

“I’m
not; I’m just very good at negotiations. It is part of what I do for a living.”

“It
would be nice to have a home to move into once we’re married,” she said. Creighton took the phone out of his pocket and dialed a number, kissing the tip of her nose as he waited for the recipient to answer.

“It’s
Ashford,” he said softly, looking into Sandra’s eyes. “Tell the old man the only way I’ll agree to the offer is if we close in twenty-four hours, otherwise there’s no deal. I want those papers e-mailed to me; I'll go over them and we’ll send them back when we get to Lyon.” He clicked the phone off and returned it to his pocket, wrapping his arms around her slender waist again.

“Congratulations
Miss Dennis,” he said with a smile. “You have taken the first step to becoming a homeowner.”

“So
long as you’re there to share it with me; I'll be glad to move in.”

“I
will never be further away from you than I am right now,” he promised, kissing her lips tenderly; promising her the world with the touch of his mouth.

“We’re
having a boy!” Aryana exclaimed when Creighton opened the door to the hotel, instantly becoming the recipient of a bone-crushing embrace.

“Congratulations,”
he said returning her hug very briefly then carefully removed her arms. Daniel looked very proud and little sick as his hand reached out and shook Creighton’s hand.

“Thank
you,” he said with a wide smile. Creighton turned to see the young brunette hugging tightly to Sandra’s neck and shook his head.

“This
calls for a celebration,” Creighton said, retrieving the bottle of
Dom Perignon
from the bar. “You get juice,” he teased Aryana as he passed out the glasses, handing her a crystal goblet of orange juice. The girl frowned at him, but accepted the drink and raised it to clink with the others.

“We
have reservations in Lyon, so we’ll eat supper there, but we need to get moving,” Creighton said a little while later as they all reclined on the sofa.

“Lyon?”
Aryana squealed. “We were married in Lyon, remember?” She cooed to her husband, wrapping her arm around his and laid her head against his shoulder.

“How
could I forget?” he said softly. “It was the best day of my life; next to today.”

“I’ll
get the bags,” Creighton told Sandra, rolling his eyes at the young couple, then stood and walked into the adjoining bedroom.

“So,
you’ll be getting married in Lyon too?” Aryana asked Sandra who stood and gathered the glasses together, taking them into the kitchen.

“We
haven’t decided where we’re getting married yet?” Sandra said, glancing to Creighton as he returned from the bedroom, his arms loaded down with luggage.

“I
heard the report on the televisore,” Aryana said.

“Well,
they got most of the report correct,” Creighton smiled, setting the bags by the door. “But like typical gossips, they didn’t do their research. We need to get out of here if we’re going to keep our reservations.” Sandra walked to him and slipped her hand in his.

“Creighton
hates to be late for anything,” she said with a warm smile. “He’s my British coo-coo clock.”

“Eloping
sounds better every time we discuss it,” Creighton said a little while later as they drove to their hotel in Lyon. Aryana quickly fell asleep once they began driving, leaving Daniel to watch the DVD player in the back seat through the set of earphones. Creighton traded in the Mercedes for an Acura MDX SUV, earlier that day. The car was beautiful and had all the bells and whistles; seat warmers, GPS, cruise control, DVD player, air conditioning, satellite radio, rearview camera, iPod dock, heated seats, sunroof and electronic parking. It did everything except serve you champagne and caviar.

“I
don’t want relish the idea of planning something that takes weeks or even months. Kristine’s mother planned hers and Derek’s wedding; totally ignoring my mum’s suggestions as well as Kristine’s. It was a bloody disaster. They had a big church wedding that started nearly two hours late; the flower girl was so little she got scared and cried all the way down the aisle; the ring bearer dropped the rings twice and the air conditioning went out, so the place was stifling. The reception was held outside at a golf course and it rained the night before; the ground was soggy and wet and everyone was getting stuck in the mud, the tables sank into the grass and two actually tipped over. It was horrible. I’m surprised, they stayed married after that.”

“Are
they happy?”

“Yes,
very much so, Kristine is nothing like her mother; she’s friendly and happy and laughs a lot. That’s the kind of marriage I want.”

“Do
they ever argue?”

“Yes,
a lot, but they always manage to work out their differences. I can’t imagine living with a person the rest of your life and not disagreeing or arguing at least once. It would be insane.”

“As
much as I would love to elope, I don’t think it’s possible, at least not in England; besides, don’t you want your family to be a part of our wedding?”

“Of
course, but I haven’t ruled out the possibility. I’ve asked Michelle to check on how we can get a license and see how long it takes.”

“Let
me guess; money speaks? You’re a true enigma and as irritating as you are, I can’t imagine my life without you; perverted stalker that you are.”

“A
true romantic,” he teased.

“I
have been thinking about what you said, about my starting to write. I like the idea a lot. I already have some stories, they just need to be refined and edited; but I’d like to see if I could get them published.”

“I
think it’s a great idea. When the house is finished, I want an office set up so I won’t have to travel to London every day. I’ll be happy to share it with you, or we can make one of your own; a place where you can write in private.”

“I
wrote those stories on the sofa in front of the television, or at my grandparents’ kitchen table. I don’t know if I could write them at a desk.” Creighton chuckled at the idea of her sitting in her pajamas, writing in the kitchen. “Speaking of the house, have you heard anything from your lawyer?” Creighton took the phone from his pocket and handed it to her.

“Check
the messages for me. I hate using the phone while I’m driving.” Sandra looked at the phone and noticed for the first time that he used a sleek black iPhone. She had only ever used her simple Motorola phone; no thrills or frills and long overdue for upgrading. She glanced toward Creighton who stared at her from the corner of his eye.

“What’s
the matter?” he asked.

“How
do you use it?” she asked looking at the screen.

“Just
touch it; it’s a touch screen like your iPod, easy to use.” Sandra did as he told her and watched the backlit pop on, revealing a photo of the two of them in front of the Joan of Arc statue from when they visited Orleans. She smiled, looking at the photo of them holding each other and smiling happily.

“There
are icons, just like your iPod. The one that says NHT is for my assistant and my company, the one that says York is a list of my family’s numbers and the one that says VM is for the voicemail. The one on the bottom that has the little letter is the e-mail, just touch it and it will pull up my private account.” Sandra did as told and found a very quick connection as several pages scrolled quickly in front of her.

“Find
an e-mail from Horace, Baker and Marshall; it will be from my solicitor.” Sandra scrolled through them, pausing momentarily at one subject line that that read
Kansas USA
, before moving onward to find the one he indicated. She opened the e-mail and saw a note with an attachment.

“It’s
here,” she said quietly.

“What
does it say?”

“Mr.
Ashford, Bachmeier has agreed to your demands and has signed over the property. I have enclosed the contract and will have it processed as soon as it’s signed. Once the papers are filed the money will be transferred to Bachmeier and the property will be yours. Everything should be completed and recorded by the end of business Tuesday. Any questions please let me know. Steve.”

“We’ll
print them out and sign them when we get to the hotel. I’ll fax them back and come this time tomorrow, we’ll be homeowners.”

“How
long do you think it will take to get it fixed up, so we can move in?”

“It
shouldn’t take more than a few weeks, especially if we can get started this week. Call Michelle for me and tell her to contact my designer and the contractor. We need to get moving as soon as possible.” Sandra stared at him, as though he had two heads; her eyes wide and her mouth open. “Go ahead. Just press the icon that says NHT and find Michelle’s number.”

“Does
she know about us?” Creighton smiled as he glanced to her.

“Yes
she does; I called her this morning and had her contact the company’s publicity department to prepare a statement for the press.” Sandra drew a deep breath and pressed the icon on his phone, finding the number and waiting with baited breath as the phone on the other end rang.