Page 45 of All My Broken Dreams

“I thought it was because we were related in some way. I’m Harry’s sister and your uncle is Harry’s father. Doesn’t that make us cousins?”

Deacon reddened. “It might but not through blood.” He shoveled a forkful of stew into his mouth.

“Well, it’s hypocritical of him to warn you off when my uncle did the same thing to him and my mother. Look how that turned out. You’re not going to listen to him, I hope. I don’t care what you do for a living. You’re the only person I trust here.”

Deacon’s phone buzzed. He reached for it, reading the message.

“It’s him. He wants me to extend you an invitation to join him and his son for dinner at Dugald Croft tomorrow night.” He met her eyes. “What should I tell him?”

Robbie’s hair glowed gold in the firelight.

“Tell him I accept.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

They sent a car for her so she didn’t have to climb the wall like a thief in the night. It was clear, no snow but the stars were not visible in the night sky. City lights overpowered their delicate twinkle.

Deacon said they dress for dinner at the Croft so he went out and bought her a gown of dark blue velvet that hung in rich folds over her hips. Mrs. Cameron stopped in to give her a set of keys and did her hair in an upsweep, fastened with bobby pins.

She applied her makeup with care, not wanting to overdo it; she wasn’t sure about the blush so she went without.

Deacon wasn’t invited, he told her. He was to drive her there and take her home after the meal. She would be on her own. The other occupants in the mansion would not be present.

“It’s good, it’s good,” he kept telling her. “It’ll give you a chance to get to know them.”

“I don’t want to get to know them,” she’d retorted. “I want to find out where Harry is so I can go home. That’s the only reason I’m doing this.”

But it was her decision to accept the dinner invitation and now that she had to go through with it, her stomach was in knots. A wall enclosed the entire estate.

“There were fields at one time when the house was built. The wall was to keep out marauders and sheep,” Deacon explained. He tapped a code on the keypad and the iron gates swung open.

The drive was not long but thick forest obscured the gothic mansion until the last moment. Deacon drew up in front of a set of stone steps and stopped.

Lights shone from every window. It looked like a spooky wedding cake.

“This is it,” he said. “Are you ready?”

“I have no choice, do I?”

“If it gets to be too much for you, send me a message on your phone and I’ll find an excuse to interrupt.”

Relief flowed through her. “You’d do that for me?”

He gave her a smile but his eyes looked sad. “Sure. Now, stop worrying and try to enjoy yourself. At least, you’ll be getting a decent dinner that wasn’t cooked on a hot plate.”

Deacon opened the door for her and helped her out. The night was cold. Robbie was intensely grateful for the warmth of the dress and the long wool cloak Mrs. Cameron loaned her.

“You look beautiful,” he said. “They are going to fall in love with you, Robbie.”

She tilted her face to meet his eyes.

They didn’t sleep together last night and they wouldn’t tonight either. She knew without asking. Deacon wouldn’t talk about it, but she could feel the change in him. Aloof, businesslike, cold–he wasn’t the same open, gentle-natured man she met when she first arrived. She wondered if he even liked her anymore.

“I don’t need their love, Deacon. I need the truth.”

The front door swung open, spilling a swath of light onto the stairs.

The young blonde man she met the other night stepped out to greet them. His hair was like sculpted butter and he was dressed to perfection in a formal black dinner jacket, a blindingly white shirt and black tie.

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