sound of voices rose up from the direction of the dining room, Landry’s huskier tones mixed with the deeper baritone of her brother. Although Derek sensed the conversation was private from the muted undertones, he was in the middle of whatever was happening here, whether Landry liked it or not. With a resigned sigh, he headed for the entry to the long room, prepared to join in the melee.
“I don’t owe you an explanation, Carson.” Her direct words spilled into the hallway. “I said I’d go along with it and I am.”
“By stomping around here like the spoiled princess of the manor?”
“Oh come now, big brother. I’m simply living up to expectations. You know that as well as I do.”
Derek let out a short, discreet cough to announce his presence, and both turned as he walked into the room. Carson and Landry stood close, their similarities as siblings more than evident in their fair coloring.
But it was the matched battle stances that truly marked them as siblings, warriors down to their core.
Whatever he might have been, Reginald Adair had a reputation for being ruthless in going after what he wanted. Stubborn to a fault, he didn’t take no for an answer, nor did he back down. It was a trait his children had apparently inherited in spades.
“Am I interrupting something?”
“Would it matter if I said yes?” The quick words snapped at him with the force of a striking cobra. Despite their earlier kiss and his subsequent fumbling, he couldn’t quite shake the smile at the fierce expression that only served to heighten the sensuality of those bee-stung lips.
Derek shrugged. “Probably not.”
Her bright blue eyes narrowed and Derek saw the light of battle as clearly as if she’d hollered “Charge!”
“Well, then. Since you’re not leaving, perhaps you can explain to my brother why you felt the need to introduce yourself to Noah this morning, despite our explicit agreement that we’d manage this little deception together.”
“I thought we already worked that out.”
“Do I look like we worked it out?”
You look like a woman who’s been loved.
The thought gripped him so tightly he was amazed the words didn’t actually leak from his lips. Color still rode high on Landry’s cheeks, and the faint mark of his morning stubble edged her gorgeous lips in stubborn lines of pink like a brand.
His brand.
“Why don’t I get going and leave you two to figure this out?” Carson edged away from his sister, his gaze wary.
“Some ally you are. You’re a traitor to the cause.”
“Yep.” Carson smiled for the first time since Derek had entered the room, then added a wink for good measure. “See you later.”
Landry’s moue of disgust did nothing to hide the sultry sweep of her lips, and she turned on a very fine heel to refill her coffee mug.
“I didn’t talk to Noah on my own to go against your wishes. I thought I made that clear earlier.”
“You did.”
Something faint drifted across the gorgeous blue of her eyes. If he hadn’t been searching her face so hard, he’d likely have missed it. “You think I was wrong for taking the opportunity?”
“No.”
“Then why the attitude?”
Her gaze drifted around the opulent room before she settled her focus back on him. “Noah’s my cousin. My family. And he has no idea what we all suspect.”
Landry’s words stopped him and the momentary amusement he’d felt at her battle stance faded. He knew what it was to ruin someone’s life with the truth. Knew even better what it was to have that truth thrust upon you without warning.
Despite that knowledge—or perhaps in spite of it—he pressed his point. “Noah can’t know. Not yet.”
“Why not? If we ask him, he might be able to assuage our fears. Might be able to give us answers to our questions.”
Derek understood her deep desire to keep the truth at bay. Like a hovering specter that turned warm memories cold and settled fear deep in the bone, their suspicions would change the course of Noah Scott’s life if they were proven true.
“Or we’ll possibly create more questions. What if he tips his mother off before we have a chance to properly investigate and make our case?”
The mention of Noah’s mother, Emmaline, did the trick. Landry’s open, almost pleading gaze faded, replaced with stoic resolve. “You think she’s guilty?”
“I think we need to evaluate on our own before making suppositions or rushing to judgment.”
Her long, slender fingers fisted at her sides. “And you haven’t?”
“An investigation based on facts isn’t judgment. It’s what I do. What I know how to do. If you can’t accept that, then maybe my initial thought to work this alone was a better idea.”
“Threats, Derek?”
A retort rose up but he held it back, the urge to defend himself fading in memory of the clear hurt in her eyes when she leaped off her horse to confront him earlier.
She had been hurt. While he wouldn’t have done anything differently, even if given the chance, he wasn’t immune to the disappointment he’d seen in the set of her slim shoulders.
Landry Adair was used to being let down. He wasn’t sure how he knew that with such bone-deep certainty, but he did. And he’d be damned if he wanted to be yet another person who did the same.
“I don’t make threats. And I’m not apologizing again. But now that I’ve met Noah on my own terms, I have no interest in continuing to work this on my own.”
“Oh.” The admission was enough to knock the wind from her arguments, and Landry shot him a stoic gaze over her shoulder before picking up a delicate pot of creamer on the sideboard. The dollop she dropped in her cup barely colored the black coffee, and an image of a woman in fierce control of herself struck him with swift fists.
No muffin the day before over breakfast. A spot of cream that was so small as to be invisible. And a fierce battle of wills over her family that she was obviously desperate to win.
Perhaps he’d misjudged the woman who appeared to have everything.
From his vantage point, he was beginning to wonder if she had nothing.
* * *
Landry dropped her purse in the backseat of her SUV before she reached for the driver’s door. Derek had kept a low profile through the rest of the morning, simply asking her to be ready to take off at lunchtime.
She’d wanted to ask where they were going, but sheer stubborn pride had kept her mouth closed. As a result, she had no idea if the light sweater set and cream-colored slacks were appropriate for their outing or not.
Especially when Derek Winchester sauntered out of the house in another one of his T-shirts—black this time—and low-slung jeans. That same heavy throb from their morning in the alfalfa pasture gripped her stomach and she fought it back, slipping her dark sunglasses quickly over her eyes.
She wouldn’t let him see the irrepressible response of her body, which no doubt filled her gaze with ripe appreciation.
And she’d be damned if she worried she was overdressed for whatever outing the infuriating man had planned that he couldn’t bother to share with her.
Partners.
The word stuck bitterly in her throat as she climbed into the car.
They were no more