Page 57 of Judgment Day

Moody bastard.

I ignored his sarcasm. “It’s easier than forging passports for the girls we find here and worrying about getting them across the border.”

“Since when do you give a fuck about legalities?” He swallowed something, probably a sip of beer from the sound of it. “And what about the girls we find here, in the U.S.?”

“You can keep the house there. Just find someone else to run it.”

“Ohhhhh.” A door closed in the background. “So, this is about Lyric?”

Not his business.

“I also need you to tell Anniston that if she wants her father to walk her down the aisle, you’re going to need to speed up this wedding.”

“Someone’s feeling needy. Should I start making a list?”

“You have three weeks. Then your fiancée will be an orphan,” I said, then ended the call.

Three weeks was plenty of time for a woman who ran an entire country to pull a wedding together.

THIRTY THREE

A lotof our country was highly modernized. And a lot of it was not. We were a paradox between contemporary and traditional. My home, this estate, remained unchanged. The manor was surrounded by gardens. It was spring, so the cherry blossoms were in bloom, along with everything else. The manor sat at the top of a hill. At the bottom, a forest spread far and wide. Beyond that were mountains and glens, rivers and lochs. I owned one hundred twenty acres of paradise. Why wouldn’t I build a refuge here?

A few hundred yards behind the house was where we kept the horses.

It was early morning, and Ciaran was already at the stables with a pony named Honey, sweeping over her body with a dandy brush. Since the day I’d introduced him to them, that was where he stayed.

I stood with my hands in the pockets of my dark gray casual pants. The long-sleeved white shirt I wore was pushed up my forearms. The scent of rain blew in off the hilltops.

Isla was there, watching Ciaran just like I was. “He’s a lot like you, you know,” she said. “I mean, from what I’ve seen.” Her strawberry-blonde hair was pulled into its typical braid that hung over her shoulder. Sometimes I wondered about her past. What kind of life had she had that would be worth giving up to play nanny to a child she had no ties to? On paper, she was clean, but ghosts didn’t always show up on paper. “He’s strong. Quiet. He listens more than he speaks, but when he does speak, he commands the room with nothing more than the sound of his voice.”

We both watched Ciaran as he held one hand on the pony’s neck and the other sweeping dirt and hair from her breast and belly. His movements were graceful and confident. His lips moved, letting us know he was speaking to her, but he was too far away for us to hear.

“My father was the same way.”

She turned her head, craning her neck to look up at me. “Mrs. McTavish told me about your parents. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. The only children who deserve apologies for their parents are those who had bad ones. Mine were the best.” My attention slid to her momentarily before going back to my son.

“She’s his mother, isn’t she?” She was still watching me. I felt the contemplation in her stare. “The queen.”

Conversation was an art I’d mastered. Most people painted their emotions in their expressions. Their faces gave away more than their words ever did. I only showed people what I wanted them to see, only said what I wanted them to hear.

“I always sensed there was more to her visits than moral obligation.” She was pressing. I didn’t budge. “She loves him,” she added, as if that would make me give her an answer I wasn’t going to give. “It was nice of you to let her come visit this morning.” A brief pause. “Regardless of the history between you.”

Ice filled my veins. I jerked my head to Isla. “Here? Sadie was here?”This morning.My plane landed at seven. Mrs. McTavish didn’t mention it when I’d called to check on things. It was a two-hour drive from the airport, which meant she’d just left when I got home. The men in charge of tracking her were officially fucking fired, which was letting them off easy. If she had done anything to my son, they’d have been dead.

Isla’s eyes met mine, and I watched her struggle with what to say next. Her lips parted, then snapped shut. Her face paled. She cleared her throat. “Yes, sir. She didn’t stay long. Mrs. McTavish was with them the whole time.”

Anger rushed through my blood with the promise of violence. Whatever game Sadie was playing, she knew better than to bring it here, to my fucking home. My fists clenched inside my pockets. “If you’ll excuse me,” I said, then marched up the hill and back inside the house.

Mrs. McTavish was in the kitchen, polishing silverware with a towel before putting it away.

“Why didn’t you tell me Sadie was here?” There was a grit and fury in my voice that I’d never used with her before.

She carefully set the towel and the silverware on the counter as she turned to face me. “I was going to, but you’ve been so preoccupied with the boy since you got home. I didn’t want to spoil it.”

I closed the distance between us in three long strides. “I don’t want her anywhere near him. She isn’t allowed anywhere near this house. Is that understood?” I had no idea what game Sadie was playing, but she had to know if she ever did try to take him from me, there was nowhere she could hide that I wouldn’t find her.

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