Page 34 of Second Time Around
“No, I needed to look respectable when I went begging for money.” He ran his hand over the back of his head where the ponytail once was. “Did you know that my father wouldn’t invest a penny in Ceres?” Will’s tone was bitter. “But he didn’t tell his friends not to invest, so I guess I should be grateful for that.” He turned to her. “I’ve never told anyone but Greg that. Didn’t want them to know that my own father had no confidence in me.”
Kyra turned her hand to twine her fingers with his. “He might have wanted you to be able to say you succeeded on your own. You showed everyone, including yourself, that you didn’t need his help.”
“You’re attributing far more paternal sensitivity to him than he has ever demonstrated.” But she could see the stubborn denial in the set of his jaw soften. “Maybe I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.” He stood and helped her up with their joined hands. “Back to the salt mines.”
Will swiped an app that hailed the water taxi. While they waited on deck, he pointed out the especially interesting boats. No more sharing of secrets from the past because he was putting the protective walls back up again. Kyra missed the raw, vulnerable Will.
As the skiff bounced over the waves toward them, Kyra interrupted the flow of smooth chitchat. “Your secrets are safe with me. I won’t betray them or you.”
He brushed the back of his fingers down her cheek. “That’s why I told you.”
Then their cheery skipper was maneuvering the skiff up to the ladder. Kyra had left her feet bare and managed not to rip any seams or fall into the harbor as she clambered into the small craft.
“Had a nice afternoon aboard theRoyal Wave?” the boy asked, as he eased the skiff away from the sailboat.
Kyra choked on a giggle when Will grinned and said, “It was very satisfying.”
She nudged his ankle, which made him grin more. Then the kid gunned the motor so that speaking became too difficult. But Will’s fingers were still interwoven with hers, which wrapped her in a haze of contentment.
All too soon, they were in the Jaguar, headed back to Arion Farm. The closer they got, the more frequently Will lifted a hand to rub at the back of his neck.
“Maybe we should just head for the helicopter,” Kyra said.
Will’s laugh held no mirth. “Don’t tempt me, Circe.”
“Hey, she turned men into pigs, although I think that was metaphorical. I would never do that to you. What a terrible waste it would be.”
He chuckled with actual amusement. “I see you are on the side of those who believe that men revealed their bestial side when in Circe’s company. She enslaved even the brave ones, the lions and wolves, with her sexuality.”
“As I remember, Odysseus, who was supposedly so determined to get home to Penelope, hung around with Circe for a year or so. She must have been amazing in the sack.”
“So you’re like Circe in that way, too.”
“A backhanded compliment if ever I heard one.” But a smug smile curled the corners of her mouth.
“And now we have arrived at the passage between Scylla and Charybdis,” Will murmured, steering the car through the gateposts that marked the entrance to his parents’ estate.
“Do you always revert to Greek mythology when you’re stressed?” Kyra asked, but she knew the answer. She had escaped into Charlotte Brontë and Jane Austen. Will went farther back into the past.
“The Greeks understood the bloody side of family dynamics.” Will swung the Jaguar around the circle in front of the house that now held only about a dozen parked cars.
Kyra snorted. “They did have a tendency to kill their immediate relatives ... when they weren’t sleeping with their mothers. Not that I’m implying anything like that about your family.”
“I’m relieved.” He put his arm around her waist and steered her up the wide stone steps and through the unlocked front door.
“Oh. My. God,” Kyra said on one long breath as they stepped into the entrance hall. Warm oak paneling covered the walls, and a huge pastel Oriental rug lay on the polished plank floor. Centered on it wasa circular leather-topped oak table bearing an enormous china vase of fresh flowers. Paintings of horses and gilt-framed mirrors hung on the panels, and a staircase of the same highly grained oak rose to a wide landing before it joined with a gallery that ran around three sides of the hallway. “It’s not Disney World. It’s a real, live castle.”
Will shrugged. “Birds in gilded cages.” Settling his arm more firmly around her waist, he turned them through a wide arch and into a room that stretched from the front to the back of the mansion. Kyra had a quick impression of more oak paneling, a fireplace, and a ceiling with intricate plaster designs. Then she confronted the daunting array of faces turned toward her, their owners scattered around the various chintz-covered chairs and sofas with glasses in their hands. The hum of conversation came to a sudden halt.
Kyra felt a shudder run through Will while his grip on her hardened into a vise. It was so similar to his earlier reaction to Petra’s voice that Kyra got a bad feeling.
“Will!” His mother floated up from the chair in which she sat. “So glad you could rejoin us. Let’s get you and Kyra drinks.”
The conversations began again, but Kyra caught people casting surreptitious glances at Will and her.
Betsy Chase beckoned them over to the built-in bar. “What can I offer you?”
“White wine would be great,” Kyra said, keeping it simple. What she really wanted was a double shot of vodka because the tension in the room was so thick she could cut it with the proverbial knife.Was Petra here?
