Page 27 of Unwanted Vows

“Nobody,” he whines. “I’m an old, broken man with six months to live. My friends are fleeing the sinking ship like the rats they are. I’ve got to rely on scum like Jase Wintergreen to get anything done.”

“So you admit he’s scum. Yet you tried to force Rylie, sweet, scattered little Rylie, to marry him.” Dr. Lane has his anger in hand, but it bleeds through every word.

“Scum, shmum,” the man on the screen waves his hand. “I’m dying, Andrew. I need an heir. You were supposed to marry Catriona. Now she’s hitched to that . . .”

“Don’t say that word,” Dr. Lane pounces before the epithet can slide out of the old man’s mouth. “Leland is a fine man and a loyal friend.”

“Sure he is,” the talking head on the computer screen says. “He knows you have money.”

Dr. Lane pinches the bridge of his nose. “Grandfather, Leland doesn’t need my money. He has money of his own. His wife is a princess.”

“She should have been your wife,” the old man snaps.

“We would not have suited at all,” I snap back. “She and Leland do very well together. As for heirs, they have healthy twins.”

“Girls,” the old man snorted. “Worthless girls. How can you run an empire . . .”

“Don’t let Catriona hear you say that,” Dr. Lane says wryly. “She’ll make you into breakfast sausages.”

“I doubt that,” the old man says. Then he changes his tactics. “You have a son,” he wheedles. “You can inherit my kingdom, especially if you marry and get a legitimate heir. You know you want to. Think of all the people you could help with my money.”

“Think of all the people you’ve hurt gaining that money,” Dr. Lane returns. “Think of how much better this could have gone if you’d made friends with Madeline instead of scaring her to the other side of the continent. I don’t know what kind of game you are playing, Grandfather. But I think you are drilling holes in your own canoe.”

“What do you know about anything?” the old man says scornfully. “I’ve seen two generations grow up, and none of them worth spit. You don’t know how it’s done.”

“Why don’t you come out here and tell me, Grandfather? But leave your goons at home. I’m not impressed by them, and I don’t appreciate how you threatened Madeline.”

“All right, I will come,” the old man says. “I can be there by afternoon. When I arrive, you can check me over and you’ll see that I’m not lying.”

“You know it is not ethical for a doctor to administer to his family,” Dr. Lane protests.

“Then get someone else to do it! I’m telling you, I need an heir. If you play your cards right, you could be him.” The old man tries to smile, but the expression twists into a grimace, and the pasty face starts to purple. “Jake, my pills,” he calls out.

A serving man runs in with a small tray. He shakes out one pill onto a spoon. Grandfather Aims takes it, opens his mouth, and places it under his tongue. When his color returns to normal, the old man says, “I’ll see you in four hours. I’ll have papers, and you need to be ready to sign them. Otherwise, I’ll drum up whatever evidence I can find to take control of that boy.”

The screen went to a post-call utility survey. My blood runs cold with terror.

I realize that Catriona is standing beside me. “Why don’t the two of you get handfasted and move in together?”

“Get what?” I ask.

“Handfasted,” Catriona repeats. “You know, promised to each other, and then you live together for a year and a day to see if you like each other well enough to marry.”

“It’s like being engaged to be married,” Dr. Lane says absently, staring at the blank screen. “Only a little more permanently, and better recognized by the community.”

“Are you joking?” I ask.

He turns to face me. “No, it is a serious proposition. If we are engaged to be married, and living in the same household, it will be much easier to protect you both.”

“Will we need to sleep together?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “Only if you want to. You and Paul can each have your own room. There’s a four-bedroom house for rent not far from the clinic. We could have this whole thing set up before Aims Corps private jet touches down at LAX.”

“Why should I trust you?” I ask. “You’ve been back in my life less than a week. Last time I saw you, you turned my world upside down and left me to cope alone. How do I know you won’t split, and take off with my kid?”

“All you have is my word, in front of these witnesses.” He gestures to the growing crowd at the kitchen door. “I swear that my intentions are entirely honorable. My intent is to protect our son, Paul, from my grandfather, Rodri Andrew Aims, who just happens to be Paul’s great-grandfather.” He pauses, breathing hard as if he has just run a race.

“How do I know you won’t take Paul and run away with him?” I repeat.

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