Author: Tiffany Reisz

“On occasion. They’re fragile animals.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“Sons are fragile, as well.”

“I’ve noticed that, too.”

Nora stopped talking. She had a feeling saying another word would work against her cause. Instead of speaking, she merely braced herself for the inevitable.

“I don’t like you, Miss Sutherlin.” Mr. Railey looked her dead in the eyes as he said the words. Nora kept silent, neither questioning nor complimenting his taste in women. “But I don’t hate you.”

“I appreciate that, sir,” she said, and closed her mouth again.

“You did something last night I’d never seen before. That took nerves of steel and an iron will to get our Track Beauty back on her feet again. I’ve registered Bastinado’s name already. And I haven’t said a word to my wife about how close we came to losing her four-legged baby.”

“I’m glad everything turned out okay.” Nora clenched her jaw. This not saying everything she wanted to say was more painful than getting flogged. Would this be life at The Rails? Behaving herself? Not talking back? Not making waves or causing trouble? Perhaps it really was for the best that

Mr. Railey would trade doing this favor for her in exchange for her promise to leave Wesley once and for all.

“So am I, young lady.”

Mr. Railey said nothing more and Nora waited, biting her tongue.

He smiled, sighed and shook his head.

“‘Four things greater than all things are…women and horses and power and war.’”

Nora stared at him.

“That’s Rudyard Kipling,” Mr. Railey explained. “One of my favorite sayings. Women and horses and power and war…story of my life.”

Nora smiled. “Mine too these days. Apparently.”

“Did you need anything else?” Mr. Railey asked, tapping his desk with obvious impatience.

“No…that was it. Just…”

“Go on back to bed. It looks like you could use a few more hours sleep. I’ll make your phone call. But your friend better never step foot onto a race track ever again.”

“He won’t.”

“Good. Go on now. I’ve got work to do.”

Nora opened her mouth and closed it again just as quickly.

“Thank you, Mr. Railey.” She bobbed a curtsy for no reason she could explain, other than the moment seemed to demand it. Mr. Railey laughed as he shooed her from the room.

At the bottom of the stairs, Nora peeked into the drawing room. Wesley’s mother sat at a petite desk with a fountain pen and a stack of cards, white with red trim, in front of her. With Mrs. Railey engrossed in her writing, Nora took a moment to look at her. Lovely lady really, with eyes as big and brown as her son’s.

She glanced up and smiled at Nora.

“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Nora apologized before

Mrs. Railey could speak.

“You can interrupt the thank-you-note writing anytime you wish.”

Nora whistled at the stack of thank-you cards in front of Mrs. Railey. It looked like she’d written a hundred notes and still had another hundred to go.

“Writing that many thank-you notes is my definition of hell.”

“Mine, too,” Mrs. Railey admitted, capping her pen. “But we had two hundred people donating exorbitant sums to The Rails Foundation. Have to say ‘thank you.’”

“I’d tell them to keep the money.”

Mrs. Railey nodded. “I’ve wanted to a time or two. Have a seat if you like.”

“I won’t stay and bug you. This is just the first time your husband let me in the house.”

Mrs. Railey’s smile broadened. “My husband is as stubborn as a mule. He’s a good man. Only…difficult.”

“I’m well-versed in good, stubborn and difficult men.”

“Never considered my son to be difficult. He was, still is, the sweetest child you could ever hope to have. He gets that from me,” she said with a wink.

“I can see that. It’s the sweetness that makes him so difficult.”

With a sigh, Mrs. Railey sat back in her chair and gave Nora a long searching look. “You’re not planning on staying around these parts, are you?”

“I…” Nora shrugged. “I don’t really plan much.”

“I can see that about you. You look like a woman who never completely unpacks her suitcase.”

Nora opened her mouth to protest and then shut it again. Ruefully, she laughed her agreement.

“Someone called me a pirate once,” she said, not wanting to say Søren’s name to Wesley’s mother for some reason. “A born marauder destined for the high seas.”

“Even a pirate needs a safe harbor.”

“But is that harbor still safe when the pirates dock their ship?” Nora would have smiled as she asked the question but for the sudden lump in her throat.

The look Mrs. Railey gave Nora would have impressed even Søren. “I just don’t want to see my boy hurt again.”

“Then we’re in agreement there.”

“He loves you.”

“And I love him.”

“But?”

“Takes more than love for a ride off into the sunset together.”

“That’s true. It also takes hoses.”

Nora glanced out the window. Right on the east lawn she saw dozens of horses dotting a sea of green.

“I thought Wes was the brainiac in the family.”

“He also gets that from me.”

Nora nodded. “You have good genes. I’ll let you get back to your thank-you note slash prison sentence. I’ll get back to…”

“My son?” Mrs. Railey asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

“That guy.” Nora found her grin again. The pirate in her took hold of her tongue as she headed for the door. “He’s horny as hell in the mornings. He’ll notice if I’m not there.”

Mrs. Railey didn’t even bat an eyelash. She uncapped her pen again and picked up another blank note.

“He gets that from his father.”

All the way back to guesthouse, Nora tried to figure out what had happened. Mr. Railey had agreed to help Talel at her request…and he’d asked nothing in return. She would have bet her own life that he would have demanded she leave in exchange for his help. But he hadn’t. And he hadn’t threatened to, either. He’d said “yes” and sent her on her way.

She’d been almost counting on Mr. Railey trading her departure for saving Talel. And now that he hadn’t…

Nora started stripping out of her clothes the second she got into the guesthouse. She found Wesley only half-asleep in bed. Glancing at the clock, Nora couldn’t believe it was barely 8:00 a.m.

“Where were you?” he asked as she scooted in next to him. He pulled her close and she melted into him, her back to his chest.

“Just ran an errand. Go back to sleep. I’m about to.”

“Good idea,” he said, pushing his hips into hers. Nora laughed softly. Kid had been having sex for all of one week and he’d already turned into a typical horny-in-the-morning male. And she loved him for it.

And she loved him for everything else, too.

And she didn’t have to leave him.

And since she didn’t have to leave him, that meant eventually she’d have to answer Wesley’s question.

Would she stay with Wesley? Or would she leave him…again?

NORTH

The Past

The fear that at the time seemed irrational, the fear that had nearly kept Kingsley from stepping into the chapel, had proved itself justified beyond all belief. One month from the day Marie-Laure arrived at Saint Ignatius and glimpsed Søren for the first time, she and Kingsley returned to the chapel, hand in hand again. Midnight on December 21…the time chosen by Marie-Laure. His birthday, she’d said, smiling. And the longest night of the year, Kingsley had said, staring at his sister until she blushed. Blushed...his sister who had taken half of Paris to her bed had actually blushed.

“Can you think of a better choice for a wedding night?” she’d finally said, and Kingsley’s stomach had churned.

And now he waited in the narthex of the chapel. Checking his watch, he mourned the time—one minute until midnight.

She looked beautiful; he couldn’t deny that. More beautiful than he’d ever seen her. A blizzard had kept the entire school trapped in their valley. There had been no opportunity for shopping for wedding dresses. Instead, she’d taken one of her own dresses and some of the old lace altar cloths and sewn a train and a veil by hand. She wore no makeup, as she’d run out a week ago and could not go anywhere to procure more. Her naked face had never shone so brightly, nor had she ever looked so innocent. Innocent…almost virginal. Her hands twisted together. Nerves? His sister who had worn next to nothing to dance on a stage before tens of thousands during her two years in the Paris Ballet Company? She was nervous?

Kingsley took her hand in his and held it. Her fingers felt like ice against his skin.

“Are you scared?” he asked, trying to feign support, affection, while anger lurked under his calm exterior.

“Oui…so much.” She took a breath in and let it out. A white cloud surrounded her face like a halo. The chapel was nearly impossible to keep warm in the winter, but she’d insisted they be married in the church. Kingsley prayed for a short ceremony or they all would die of hypothermia before dawn.

“Then why are you marrying him?” He asked the question with more honest emotion in his voice than he’d meant to betray. But Marie-Laure, lost in her own thoughts and fears, seemed not to notice.

“I’ve never met anyone like him. I’ve never...I love him.” She turned her face to Kingsley’s and the intensity of her smile brought light and warmth to the cold, candlelit chapel.

“You’ve known him one month.”

“It doesn’t matter. I loved him the moment I saw him. And I told him that.”

“Did he say he loved you, too?” Kingsley asked, fearing the answer. Søren had never even said those words to him, although they escaped Kingsley’s lips every time Søren entered him. He’d said “I love you” almost as often as he’d said “I hate you” to Søren. It never mattered which one he said—love or hate—as they meant the same to Kingsley. They meant “I am yours no matter what.” But he knew Søren loved him. He never needed the words—only the bruises and the welts and the memories of their bodies joined in the deepest hours of the night, when even God had given up and gone to sleep. And Marie-Laure…with his own money Søren had brought Marie-Laure to Kingsley. That had been love. And for once, Kingsley wished Søren had loved him a little less.

She shook her head. “No. Not in so many words. But he said something better than ‘I love you.’ He said, ‘We can be married.’ He didn’t hesitate, not a moment. It was as if he’d been waiting for me to tell him I loved him so he could ask.”

“What do you mean—”

“Shh…” Marie-Laure raised a finger to her lips. A light appeared at the altar; a single candle had been lit. “It’s time.”

She held out her arm and Kingsley took it. And in utter silence but for Marie-Laure’s shallow breaths, Kingsley escorted his sister to where Søren waited next to Father Henry. Father Henry, as usual, wore a smile. So did Marie-Laure. But Søren and Kingsley didn’t smile as their eyes met. Kingsley looked for something in Søren’s eyes—an apology, a hint of explanation, a purpose or a plan…something to explain this madness. But he saw nothing in Søren’s eyes at all.

Marie-Laure’s smile only broadened as Father Henry began to speak. Kingsley heard his voice, but his mind could comprehend none of the words. Another silence descended and Kingsley realized that he’d just been asked a question.