HardWind (16 page)

had finally crossed over into that brutal realm.

“We’ll discuss that when you’re up to getting down on one knee and asking me

properly,” she said, easing out of his embrace. When he started to kneel, she shook her

head. “
And
when you have the proper jewel box containing the most expensive solitaire

you can afford.”

He frowned. “Do I gotta?” he asked, his tone that of a little boy being asked to do

something he did not want to.

“Yes, you gotta,” she said, and moved away from him to go to the window that

overlooked the vast backyard and pushing aside the drapes. She whistled. “I am

flabbergasted.”

There was a polite knock at the door and when Dáire opened it, he greeted a very

tall, thin man who came in carrying their overnight bags. “How’ve you been, Moss?”

The cadaverous-looking man in the black frockcoat inclined his head regally. “Quite

well, Mr. Connelly. I hope you have enjoyed good health.”

Star arched a dark brow but remained silent, smiling politely at the skinny butler.

“I’ve been good,” Dáire said, and handed a twenty-dollar bill to Moss.

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“Thank you, Mr. Connelly. Please enjoy your stay.” He bowed then left as quietly as

he’d entered.

“Connelly?” Star questioned.

“Grayson Connelly,” Dáire informed her.

“One of your aliases?”

“One of many,” Dáire answered.

“And who am I?”

“My mistress, of course,” he said with a wink. “Analiese McGovern.”

Star winced. “Analiese?” She shuddered. “What a perfectly horrid name! Couldn’t

you have come up with something more…”

“Mistressy?” he asked. “How ‘bout Cora May Belle Prevost?”

“Analiese is a very pretty name,” Star decided. She bit her lower lip. “Do we have

to dress for supper? If we do, I don’t have anything suitable to wear.”

“Miss Idelle doesn’t stand on formality. She’s as liable to come to the table wearing

a bathrobe over her swimsuit as not.”

“You’re sure?”

“Positive,” he told her. “What you’ve got on will be just fine, so if you’ve got to go

tinkle, do it so we can go eat. I’m starving and this headache ain’t getting no better.”

“Tinkle?” she repeated.

“Seemed like the best word in a stylish room like this,” he replied.

She went into the bathroom. “Do you need another pill?” she called out.

“I don’t think it will do any good, baby,” he replied. He was leaning with his head

against the cool surface of the four-poster’s spindle when she came out of the bathroom.

“Do you want me to take you to the ER?”

“Nah, I’ll be all right. Maybe if I get something in my stomach, I’ll feel better.”

“Or dredge it back up,” she warned.

“Let’s hope not.”

There were four couples around the beautifully laid dining table that could seat

twelve comfortably. The men were all over the age of sixty and looked quite

prosperous. The women accompanying them were young, beautiful and very well

endowed. Dáire introduced Star and himself as Grayson and Analiese Connelly as he

held his lady’s chair for her to sit down.

“Where all are ya’ll from, honey?” the youngest of the four women asked. She

couldn’t have been older than twenty.

“Albany,” Dáire replied, pronouncing the name the Southern way—all benny.

“My best friend lives there,” another of the lady’s said. “Do you know Madeline

Richie?”

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“Yes, ma’am, I do,” Dáire said. “I believe she owns Oak Haven Plantation, doesn’t

she?”

“Indeed she does!” the lady said, beaming. “Now, isn’t this a small world, Harold?”

“It is,” her escort—who had introduced himself as Harold Huntman—agreed.

“What do you do in Dougherty County, Mr. Connelly?”

“Please call me Grayson,” Dáire drawled. “I do as little as I can get away with, Mr.

Huntman. Analiese and I travel quite a bit.”

“Spending his daddy’s money,” Star said with a giggle.

Everyone laughed and Huntman gave her a speculative look. “I take it you two

aren’t burdened with a family of little Connellys.”

“Oh heavens, no!” Star said, batting her eyes at him. “Gray doesn’t want me to ruin

my figure.” She pronounced the word as fig gur.

Two servant girls began bringing in bowls of steaming vegetables, which they

placed on the table. Bossie carried in a huge platter of baked ham around which had

been ringed new potatoes that had been cooked in with the ham. Moss walked sedately

to the table with a large pitcher of sweetened ice tea, which he began pouring into tall

amber-colored goblets.

“I just love Bossie’s cooking,” Mr. Huntman’s companion declared. Her eyes were

locked on the ham.

“I’m waiting for the egg pie,” Star said in a hushed voice.

“Only one piece, Analiese,” Dáire reminded her.

“Oh let the little lady have all she wants, Connelly,” Harold Huntman said. He was

sweeping his gaze all over Star, and it was all Dáire could do not to reach across the

table and drag the overweight man across the platters of cornbread and shove

Huntman’s face into the steaming bowl of fried squash.

The conversation was quite stimulating, but all talk ended when Miss Idelle finally

joined them to say grace before the meal. The men rose—as Southern gentlemen are

trained to do—while Moss held the elderly woman’s chair for her.

“Welcome, my wonderful guests,” Miss Idelle said, her gaze falling on Dáire with

what Star knew was unadulterated lust. “It’s nice to have friends at my table. Let’s join

hands and thank the Lord for His wondrous blessings.”

* * * * *

Once more the rain was falling in thunderous sheets, nearly drowning out the soft

music playing in the parlor. With the exception of Dáire, the men were having an afterdinner drink of cognac while the women sat on the other side of the room talking about

the latest fashions and best-selling novels they’d read.

“And what do you do when you’re not with that handsome hunk of yours,

Analiese?” Miss Idelle asked, her sharp blue eyes locked onto Star.

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Already wise to what was going on, Star smiled sweetly. “I lounge around and

work on my tan,” she said.

Miss Idelle smiled. “Good for you, dear.” She turned to the young woman on her

right to speak to her.

Star caught Dáire watching her and nudged her chin toward the doorway. She was

tired and she could tell his headache was bothering him still. He nodded imperceptibly

then stood, wishing the other gentlemen a good evening.

“Before you two retire,” Miss Idelle said as Star got to her feet, “may I see you in

my office? I have a favor to ask, Grayson.”

“Yes, ma’am, of course,” Dáire responded. He walked over to Star, took her hand in

his and followed Miss Idelle out of the room and across the hall.

“Shut the door, sweetie,” Miss Idelle instructed as she took a seat on an overstuffed

settee in her luxuriously appointed office.

Daire closed the door then went over to sit in one of the two chairs facing the settee.

He motioned Star to the other.

“Do you have one of your blasted headaches, sweetie?” Miss Idelle inquired.

“I’m afraid so,” Daire answered.

“Such a shame. So, my gorgeous Irish warrior, what brings you to my lowly

establishment?” Miss Idelle inquired. Before he could speak, she turned the full power

of her sharp gaze on Star. “Did he tell you this was a bed and breakfast, dear?”

Star’s lips twitched. “Yes, ma’am, he did.”

“But you know differently,” Miss Idelle probed.

“I believe I do, yes, ma’am.”

Miss Idelle put her elbow on the settee arm and propped her carefully made-up

cheek on her hand. “And what—pray tell—do you think this place is, dear?”

“I’m not sure what you would call it, but I believe it is a genteel place for very

wealthy—and discreet men—to bring their mistresses for a little R&R,” Star replied.

“I like to call my establishment a coquetry,” Miss Idelle said. “Tell her what the

word means, Dáire.”

“Playful behavior intended to arouse sexual interest,” Dáire responded.

Star glanced at Dáire and arched a brow in query.

“Miss Idelle knows the true identity of every person who walks through her doors

or they aren’t allowed in,” Dáire told her.

“But I’m afraid I don’t know your real name, dear,” Miss Idelle said politely.

At Dáire’s nod, Star gave the elderly woman her real name.

“Oh my!” Miss Idelle said. “You own that fabulous restaurant in Panama City! I’ve

eaten there several times.” She smiled sweetly. “I knew I’d seen you somewhere

before.”

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“And who did Dáire bring here when he visited your lovely home, Miss Idelle?”

Star inquired.

Miss Idelle turned her attention to Dáire.

“I spent two weeks convalescing here,” Dáire explained. “After Moss found me

lying in an alley with a knife wound in my back.”

“Poor Moss was waiting for me while I was doing business in a rather seedy part of

Pensacola and had to relieve himself. He went into the alley to do so and that was

where he found this good-looking man. Knowing I would be inclined to help, he picked

Dáire up, put him in the limo and then came to fetch me. I brought Dáire back here,

called my personal—and very tactful physician—and we patched him up.”

Star turned to Dáire. “What were you doing in the alley?”

“Bleeding to death,” Miss Idelle answered for him. “I also insisted on sending him

to my favorite plastic surgeon to have that scar seen to.” She winked at Star. “Such

perfection as Dáire’s should not be marred, don’t you agree?”

“I got dumped in that alley,” Dáire explained. “An assignment that went just a bit

wrong.”

“Just a bit,” Star mumbled.

“He didn’t want anyone to know where he was and my place was the perfect

hideout,” Miss Idelle said with a sigh. She tilted her head to one side. “May I inquire

why you are here, now, my love?”

“Star and I have a daughter who needs a bone marrow transplant. I’m here to

provide that for her. I’ll be in the hospital a couple of days and she needs a place to stay.

I’ll be going to the hospital tomorrow morning to be tested and if everything’s okay, I

imagine they’ll do the donation within a day or two. I’d just as soon Star be somewhere

she won’t be bothered.”

“And away from those dastardly employers of yours,” Miss Idelle remarked.

“Precisely,” Dáire agreed.

“I am sorry to hear of your daughter’s misfortune, but I will take very good care of

Star while you are incapacitated,” the elderly woman stated. “You don’t have to worry

about her.” She stood, indicating the discussion was at an end.

“I won’t,” he assured her. Star and he got to their feet.

“How old is your daughter, dear?”

“Ten months.”

Miss Idelle sighed. “Patrick and I were never blessed with children, and I can’t say I

agree with a man of Dáire’s profession bringing them into the world, but who am I to

judge?”

“Jillian was a surprise,” Star told her.

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“Ah,” Miss Idelle said. “Such things happen.” She led them to the door. “Would

you like Moss to drive you to the hospital? We have several cars and he wouldn’t have

to drive the same one twice.”

“I’d appreciate that, Miss Idelle,” Dáire said. “I imagine my employers will be

staking out the hospital.”

“Oh I am sure they will, sweetie,” the elderly woman agreed.

* * * * *

Alone in their room later Star climbed up on the bed and sat there watching Dáire

undress. “I like her.”

“So do I.”

There was a soft knock on the door and Dáire walked over to answer it.

Moss was standing there. “Miss Idelle asked that I give you these, Mr. Connelly,”

he said, speaking the name clearly in case anyone heard. He opened his hand to reveal

two pale yellow tablets.

Dáire accepted the medication, thanked the butler then quietly shut the door.

“What is it?” Star asked.

“Demerol.” He put them in the pocket of his trousers.

“You aren’t going to take them?”

“I don’t want anything in my system that might cause a problem for harvesting the

bone marrow,” he replied. “I can live with the headache. I have before.”

“She is a very perceptive woman.”

“And a very good friend.”

“I can see that,” Star said. “She is also in love with you.”

“I know.”

Star blinked. “You do?”

He looked up at her as he took off his trousers. “She told me a long time ago. I

remind her of her husband. I even look a bit like him.”

“Have you ever…?”

“No,” he said as he entered the en suite bath and turned on the shower’s cold water

as fast as it would go. “And she’d never ask.”

She heard his quick intake of breath as the icy water hit his body. Knowing him as

well as she did, she knew the headache was at such a vicious point, he needed to lower

his body temperature. He’d remained in the shower until he was shivering from the

cold.

“Go to bed, Starlight,” he called out to her.

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Star slid off the bed and took her clothes off. She retrieved a cotton gown from her

overnight bag, slipped it on then crawled up into the bed. By the time Dáire joined her,

she was fast asleep.

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