Happy Valentines Day all…: love is in the air hint hint :evil grin
I was definitely on a roll today...can you believe that three chaps in one day! omg...
Thanks for the reviews….I guess I have a lot of questions to answer...hopefully this chapter will do that for me….I'm on a roll here only one more left excluding this one and I plan to get it out ASAP…with that said here is it is…
Chapter 9
Serena sat on the dock under a starry sky. Dangling her legs over the side, she tried to bolster her mood by inhaling the tangy sea breeze. Ten minutes ago the darkened sky had erupted into a display of fireworks off in the direction of Georgetown. She'd watched the effervescent golden bursts fill the tropical night, wondering what was going on. But her emotions were in such turmoil, she couldn't work up enough enthusiasm to go back to the house to ask.
Another golden ribbon snaked high into the sky, erupting into an expanding ball of sparkling streamers that trailed down the inky canvas, gradually disintegrating into nothingness.
Nothingness. The word stuck in her mind like a painful hook. This was Friday; the week was nearly over. The vote would be tomorrow, and after that her time with Darien would be at an end. She would have nothing left of him but her memories. How ironic. A week ago she hated him, but today she was in love with him, rooting for him to maintain control of his company.
She thought of Seiya Braxton. Over the past few days she'd reevaluated her opinion of him. He was far from stupid. Under that male model exterior, he was devious and self-serving. She'd overheard him reverse himself more than once while talking to different board members, telling each what they wanted to hear. What a snake! Unfortunately, from bits of conversation she'd caught in passing, he had solid support among the more fretful members of Darien's family. Nevertheless, she had a sense that Darien was running ahead.
Darien's one flaw, if you could call it that, was the he wasn't willing to exaggerate the truth or wheedle the way Seiya did. He didn't tell one cousin one thing and then turn around and say the exact opposite to another just to get votes. She was even beginning to doubt that he and Ann had done anything lewd in his office that night she'd seen them there. Serena found herself having the absurd notion that the woman had tried to bribe him, and had been rejected. Or was that just wishful thinking? She was so confused. Most especially, she was confused about why Darien hadn't told her about the audit. Surely there was news by now.
"There you are."
She turned at the sound of Darien's voice. He was nearby and she was surprised she'd been so deep in thought that she'd missed his approach. She smiled, her pulse racing.
"So you came out to enjoy the kickoff of Pirates Week?" he asked.
"Oh, that's right." She recalled now. "I'd forgotten. Don't we have to go to some sort of party tonight?"
He sat down beside her, swinging his legs over the side of the dock. The ocean splashed and roiled against the pilings, offering a sultry rhythm in the night's stillness. "A costume party. I thought you'd be changing." He indicated the latest torrent of golden glitter that lit up the night. "The fireworks display kicks off the week's festivities."
"Jean mentioned it this afternoon. I—I guess my mind wasn't really on it." Serena felt sadness engulf her. The last thing she wanted to do was attend another party and pretend to be a lovesick newlywed. She'd never spent so much time in her life going to so many gala parties and feeling so guilty about it.
It wasn't only the ongoing lie that upset her. The suspense about the audit was driving her crazy. Beyond that, she was going out of her mind waiting to her from Mikou's doctor.
She'd thought she'd explode if she didn't get some answers to something—and right now. While Darien scanned the sky, she examined his set face, his flexing jaw, his fixed eyes, and sensed he was uncomfortable with childhood memories of Pirates Week. She wanted to comfort him, to let him know that people could be caring, loving. Not all families deserted and bullied the ones they were supposed to protect and love.
Unable to hold back any longer, she touched his hand, craving closeness, wanting him to know he could trust her with his secrets.
"Darien," she whispered, "I—I know about what you're doing for Grandpa, and I think it's wonderful."
He turned to face her. "What?"
She smiled. "The audit. I know about the audit."
His eyes went wide for a split second, then narrowed. "How the hell did you find out?"
His sharp tone made her wince. But, naturally, a man as private as Darien would react that way—at first. "I—I admit, I eavesdropped on the phone the night you told your lawyer to look into Mikou's firing." She swallowed around the constriction that had formed around her throat. "It was noble of you to do that for Grandpa. The only reason I didn't mention it then was because I thought you'd want the pleasure of telling me yourself." She stopped, shrugged. "But you never did." When he said nothing, a tremor rushed through her, a premonition of sorts. "Why—why didn't you tell me, Darien?"
He gritted out a curse, turning away. His eyes were trained on the flashing fireworks, yet she had a feeling he wasn't aware of them and whatever he was seeing was very, very dark. In the tense stillness, the ocean made shushing sounds to the gossiping tradewinds, as though even the elements were awaiting his answer. "Why do you think I didn't tell you?" he finally muttered.
Shifting to come up on her knees, she said, "Because you didn't want to get our hopes up until you found something conclusive." She touched his hand again. It had curled into a fist. Hoping her first inclination was right, that this new dread blossoming inside her was a figment of her overwrought nerves, she ventured, "You do plan to clear Grandpa's name. That is it, isn't it?"
He closed his eyes. The bright flashes of the fireworks made a stark tableau of his rigid profile. "No, Ms. Tsukino, that's not it." Serena stared, frozen with fear as his nostrils flared.
He lifted his eyes to heaven and laughed aloud. The sound was so forsaken in the quiet it set the island birds aflutter in the trees. "You have a remarkably naïve way of looking at the world," he admonished.
"What are you saying?" Her mind numbed with shock, she was unwilling to accept the awful likelihood that Darien's motives were less heroic than she'd thought. "Do you mean to say you'd cover it up if you found out Grandpa was innocent—just to keep control of your company?"
He glanced her way, his brow dipping. "I was born and bred to run Shields Automotive Corporation," he said, a lethal coldness in his tone. "The livelihood of thousands of people rests on my shoulders. I'll do what I have to do to keep everything I've built from being destroyed." He got to his feet, asking tersely, "Would you like a hand up? The dance, remember?"
Dismayed, she gaped at him. How could he be so unfeeling? Nausea rose in her throat and she felt lightheaded. "And I thought Seiya Braxton was a snake!" she cried, lurching to her feet. "He'd have to take snake lessons from you to be as low and slimy as you!" When she swayed unsteadily, he reached for her, but she avoided his help. "Don't touch me! And for your information, I wouldn't go anywhere with you—except to applaud your hanging!"
"If it will make any difference," he said grimly, shoving his hands into his slacks pockets, "I have work to do in my office. You'll be farther away from me if you go."
Trembling, she glared at him, trying to turn her love into loathing, but she knew her unspoken pain was alive and glowing in his eyes. Good Lord! How could she have fallen in love with this man? How could she have been so foolish and trusting? Afraid she would fall to her knees if she didn't get somewhere to sit down, she whirled away. "Fine," she cried. "I'll go. But if you show your face, I'm leaving!"
The rope that bound Serena's wrists itched. Now she understood why the tattered, eighteenth-century gown she wore was called the Captive Lady costume. When she'd joined the board members and their spouses in the house, ready to attend the costume ball, Jean had apologized that she'd forgotten to include the piece of hemp required to bind her wrists. Then she'd proceeded to tie Serena's hands together.
She wanted to scratch, but knew she'd spill her guava punch. Looking down at her bound hands, awkwardly clutching the cup, she shook her head. Only Aunt Jeannie could have come up with such an outlandish costume. Jean had giggled, and insisted, "Naturally, you wouldn't want to dance without your darling Darien at the party." Serena was dying inside, yearning to scream that she never wanted to see the man again, let alone dance with him! Still, since she didn't have any desire to dance with anyone else, either, she'd merely forced a smile and nodded.
Now here she was, standing in the grand ballroom of a real castle, surrounded by swarthy pirates, serving wenches and all manner of birds and amphibians. The whole situation seemed surreal—all these wild, other-worldly characters milling, flirting, chortling, and swilling down tubs of rum punch.
Her heart constricted with sadness. Under other circumstances this would have been a-once-in-a-lifetime thrill. As it was, she wanted badly to be far, far away from here, from Darien, and—though it was an impossibility—to be able to forget the man she could have loved a lifetime.
Stifling a sneeze, she was reminded of the other piece of the costume Jean had neglected to include with the dress—the powdered wig she now wore. Jeannie had insisted that powdered hair was all the rage in the seventeen hundreds. Serena wrinkled her nose to ward off another sneeze. Powdering one's hair may have been what was fashionable three hundred years ago, but as far as she was concerned, all the custom accomplished was to make her nose tickle.
She glanced over the ballroom, looking for her grandfather and Jean, having lost track of them in the undulating crowd. In her search she spotted Seiya Braxton, the biggest devil she'd ever seen. He'd asked her to dance a couple of times, but she'd demurred, reminding him of her tied hands. He's seemed inordinately interested in whether Darien was coming tonight. She couldn't imagine his reason for asking, but continued to insist that he would be there if he could. Behind her bogus smile, she was praying that would not happen. She didn't know if she could keep up the painful charade much longer.
She grew uneasy when she realized Seiya was still lurking a short distance away. He was chatting with Ann, who looked quite in character as a buxom serving wench. Uncomfortable with the view, she swung her glance away to inspect the room. Crystal chandeliers threw sparkling light across the beige moiré-covered walls and made the gilt trim glow. With the bank of paneled doors thrown open at both ends of the long room, the chandeliers tinkled as a blossom-scented breeze wafted over the two-hundred-odd guests.
A steel band, its members clad in flowered shirts and baggy trousers, was setting up, their break over. Serena tried to enjoy the music, but her thoughts had been too fragmented to distinguish between calypso, reggae and soca, though the leader announced each change in musical style for the benefit of the tourists among the throng.
She sighed, feeling drained. Placing her cup on the lavishly spread buffet table, she decided she'd search the garden area for her grandfather and Jean, make her excuses and leave. Even knowing she'd have to brave Darien's unwelcome company on the yacht, she couldn't stand perpetrating their fraud for one more second.
Turning, she saw a red-and-green papier-mâché Pirate Parrot wearing a gray tricornered hat. She recognized the plump arms that fluttered out from beneath its stiff wings. Familiar green eyes were visible through the breathing hole in the bird's neck. "How are you, my dear?" the bird called over the general commotion. "You look pensive."
Serena smile without humor. "I guess I'm a little tired, Aunt Jeannie."
Jean laughed. "I know you're trouble." She patted Serena's roped wrists. "You're missing Darien. It's simply a shame he works so much. To be frank, I was hoping his marriage to you would make him less driven. I suppose those years and years of Damon's influence will take time to change. Don't fret, my child. I know he loves you."
Serena swallowed uneasily. "Uh—where's Grandpa?"
"In the little turtle's room," Jeannie giggled. "Doesn't he make the cutest sea turtle you've ever seen?"
Serena's smile was real this time, and she nodded. "If you don't mind, I think I'll go back to the yacht. You and Grandpa have a wonderful time. Just don't overdo."
"Never fear, my dear. I'm sure we—oh—" She waved in the direction behind Serena's head. "There's my little sea turtle now. Yooo-hooo, Mikou!" She was already waddling away, without a second thought to their conversation. Serena shook her head. But could she really fault Jeannie for being totally focused on the man she loved? Serena had lost track of a lot of conversations during the past week, her thoughts had been so totally on Darien.
Ice spread through her stomach at the reminder of how hopelessly foolish she'd been. Anxious to escape, she turned toward the ballroom's distant entryway. The carved rosewood doors had been thrown wide to aid in circulation. Lifting her skirts as well as she could with her hands tied, she had taken only a few steps when a towering man swathed in a swirling black cloak stepped into the entrance.
The rakish buccaneer wore a black tricorne pulled low over his brow. A golden hoop hung from his left ear, and a black patch swathed one eye, giving him an ominous aura. His broad chest was glazed in blue-black silk, and his shirt was open to reveal a heavy gold chain; from it hung a hammered coin.
The lower half of his anatomy was sheathed in snug breaches that hid nothing of his masculine attributes. Self-consciously Serena dropped her gaze to his square-cut boots. Highly polished, they rose up to hug his mighty calves before folding back at his knees in a wide cuff.
She shivered, feeling disoriented, as though she'd suddenly stepped into a dark passage of history. Somehow the bindings at her wrists made an ironic kind of sense now. She could well imagine this physically magnificent man leaping aboard some hapless sea vessel and plundering and ravishing to his heart's content.
Casting off the idiotic notion, she lifted her skirts, again intent on leaving. But when the frowning pirate glanced in her direction, she couldn't move. She just stood there, her skirts gathered up, as his one hooded eye wandered leisurely from the top of her bewigged head to her bare feet. The brooding expression on his face softened, but only slightly. Lips, wide and well formed, lifted at one corner in a way that was cynical yet compelling.
Serena's heart pounded ferociously as the cloaked pirate began to wend his way through the throng in her direction. No, it couldn't be, she cried mentally. Darien couldn't believe she'd melt into his arms tonight! Paralyzed as she was, she could only watch as he approached. When he drew close, her gaze shot to his one dark-fringed eye, which was narrowed speculatively.
"What are you doing here?" she demanded.
"Would milady care to dance?" he asked, ignoring her accusation and holding out a hand. Though she was highly affronted, the masculine grace of his move drew her perusal. Beneath the froth of dark ruffles grazing his knuckles, she stared at his long fingers, craving their sensual touch. Hating herself of having any desire for a man who had not heart, she jerked her bound hands.
"I wouldn't dance with you even if I could!"
A melancholy smile trailed across his lips and he startled her by dipping low, drawing a dagger from his boot. The weapon flashed evilly, evoking from her a fearful intake of breath. With amazing adroitness, he severed the cord that bound her, then deposited the dagger out of sight. "You are free, milady," he remarked softly.
She didn't even have time to react before he turned and walked away from her. Just like that? Why that upset her, she had no idea. Certainly it was better this way. Certainly! Then why was she moving toward him? What did she think she was going to do? "Darien!" she called.
He stopped, turned, and inquiring expression on his face. "Yes?"
She shuffled to a halt, a flush creeping up her cheeks. "Uh—I—" Her mind was spinning. She couldn't just stand there! What was she going to say! Don't go! I love you! Why can't you be the honorable man I thought you were? Not if she had any sense left at all. "I wish it were that easy," she finally blurted out after a couple of false starts. Tearing the remaining rope from her wrists, she cried, "Being free of you!" She flinched at the sob that had escaped with her words.
A look of weary sadness flashed across his features. He reached toward her, but she stumbled away. His features closing, he muttered, "I wish it were, too."
His voice had been strangely hoarse, as though he actually regretted what he had to do to save his company. Her heart took note, but she fought her upsurge of tenderness. "I hope Seiya Braxton beats you tomorrow!" she snapped back, knowing it was the most blatant lie she'd told in all her blatant lying. Lifting her skirts, she whirled away, heading for the exit, hoping she could reach the cover of darkness before her tears began to spill.
"May I have your attention, please?" someone said, and Serena slid to a halt. She twisted around, sensing trouble. The voice was unmistakably the deep, reverberating of Seiya Braxton. He'd interrupted the band and was standing on the elevated platform. Peering at Darien, she noticed that he, too, had turned, and was scowling in Seiya's direction.
The grotesque devil was holding his plastic fork beneath one hand and was grinning broadly at the confused crowd. "I know most of you folks don't know me. I'm Seiya Braxton, a guest here on your beautiful island, and my host is Darien Shields." There was a murmur in the gathering. It was clear that the locals knew of the Shields home, even if they'd never met the owner. Seiya indicated Darien. "There he is. And a fine host he is, too."
Most of the partygoers turned toward the handsome pirate towering over the throng, but Serena continued to stare at Seiya, trepidation slithering along her spine. What in the world was the man doing? She clasped her hands together, wishing he'd get to the point.
"I've been Darien's guest for a week now," he went on, his irritating voice bouncing off every wall. "And for a week now, we've been treated to the added company of his new bride, Serena."
To her horror, Seiya indicated where she was standing. Flushing, she lowered her eyes as several hundred strangers turned to inspect her. She hoped she didn't visibly quake under all the perplexed scrutiny.
She was sure the partygoers were as bewildered by Seiya's surprise speech as she. Please, Seiya, her mind railed. Get on with it. If you're going to make one of your syrupy-sly "Notice how thoughtful and therefore worthy of the presidency I am" speeches, get it over! This was embarrassing.
"Well, I've known Darien all my life, and I'm fond of him." Serena bit her lip. What a consummate liar the man was. "Yet, in all the years I've known him, I never realized what a jokester he could be. I thought his other guests would enjoy knowing what a trick he's played on us this week. You see, Darien is not really married at all. It's all been a boyish prank. I know I'm having a good laugh about it, and thought all his friends should be in on the escapade."
Serena's head snapped up. There was a low-pitched buzzing among the members of the audience. Clearly, Darien's board members weren't taking this news in stride. Seiya's method of divulging the lie had been almost criminally deceitful, announcing it at a huge party, pretending it were a lark when in reality he was purposefully ruining Darien's life in a most cruel and public was way. The bastard!
Her gaze shot to Darien. He was staring at her, his teeth clenched, his eyes communicating hard fury. It had struck her then. Darien thought she'd told Seiya about their conspiracy—to get even!
She stood rooted there, transfixed as he stalked to her, his blue gaze slashing like talons. "Congratulations," he growled. "You got your revenge with theatrical flair."
She opened her mouth to protest, to defend herself, but he cut her off. "If you think your grandfather's situation will be any better under Seiya, Ms. Tsukino, you're more naïve than even I gave you credit for." He glowered at her for another second, then turned away to deal with the board members converging on him. Serena watched helplessly as he strode away, the image of a man walking into a den of hungry lions, unarmed, yet with his head held high.
Several of the board members' wives were glaring at her, but none approached. She detected condescension and disdain in their attitude and felt deep shame. She knew what they were thinking. But anything she said to try to repair her reputation would fall on deaf ears. Besides, her reputation was the least of her troubles right now.
The band began to play again, something light and lilting, but as far as Serena was concerned it might as well be a death dirge.
Death dirge.
Her heart clenched in panic. Grandpa! Where was he? How had he taken the ghastly tidings? She checked over the room. Unable to see him anywhere, she prayed he'd been outside in the garden, that he hadn't heard the announcement. Rushing toward the open doors at one end of the ballroom, she prayed she'd find him out there with Jean, so she could explain it to him, help him understand.
"Serena! Serena!"
She spun at the sound of Jean's stricken voice, terror shoving her heart to her throat.
It's Mikou," Jeannie cried, struggling out of her stiff costume. Once free of it, she ignored her twisted and bunched sweatsuit, waving frantically. "He's collapsed!"
i didnt even expect that to happen...but it seemed to fit...o well...one more to go...tell me what you think...as a matter of fact tell me what you think should happen, im open to ideas...if i get a good one i may even change what i have inmind and credit the source of course...lol...lata:Kaci
