Love's Battle (True Blue Trilogy) (8 page)

“That was him.” I squealed, passing the seventh hole on our way to the tenth.

“Him? Him who?” Hope demanded.

“Him, him.” I clarified. “Danton DeAngelo.”

“Where?”

“You just passed him.”

“Want me to turn around?” She offered.

“No!”

“So, why’d you bring it up?” Hope wondered aloud as she brought the car to a stop at the ladies tee.

“Seeing him just startled me is all.” I confessed, choosing my driver. “I’ve never seen him here.” Incredible considering we’ve been members here since birth.

Hope pushed her tee into the ground, “On the bright side it looks like you’ll have at least one thing in common apart from Melanie‘s wedding.”

I rolled my eyes. Would I ever live that down? “Yeah, one! I think we need a few more than that to make it work.”

“You only have to meet him to find out.” Hope pointed out reasonably enough, laying up for her tee shot.

“Giving him the perfect opening to jump down my throat. No thanks.”

“Love, you did bring his cousin’s wedding to a stand still.”

“Oh, shut up and hit the ball.” I growled. I hate it when Hope’s reasonable. Shading my eyes I watched the progress of the white missile. I might have brought the wedding to a stand still, but in the process I saved Melanie DeAngelo a boat load of trouble. Hope knew that just as well as I did. She just liked to rub it in.

“So what are you going to do? Ignore him.”

I thought about it. “No.” It was my turn to push my wooden tee into the ground and top it with my favorite pink Lady Wilson golf ball. “I thought it’d be best to let him cool down first. You know, calm that murderous intensity he was projecting.”

“And then what?” Hope prodded.

“Well then I’ll…” I stuttered, stepping to the tee, refusing to meet Hope’s eyes. “I’ll tell you when I think of the next step.”

“You knew already, didn’t you?”

“Knew what?”

“That he was the one. You’ve known since the wedding.”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe.” Hope repeated, unconvinced.

“Oh, all right. I’ve known since the wedding. Are you happy now?”

“I would be if you hit the ball.”

Rolling my eyes I did as asked. The sound of the driver kissing the ball like music to my ears.

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why make us drag it out of you?” Hope questioned as we put our clubs away.

“I don’t know. I’m still trying to get used to the idea. You didn’t see him. He was really mad.” And I am a coward.

“So what are you going to do?” My sister asked for a second time.

“I’m not sure. I’ve only thought as far as letting him cool off and then… I thought I’d do whatever popped into my mind.”

Hope wasn’t satisfied with that answer. “Isn’t that what got you into this mess in the first place?”

“Yes it was.” Nice of her to point that out. “Now just drive.”

Eighteen holes later, Hope settled our clubs into her trunk while I returned the borrowed cart, running the key into the Pro Shop.

“Here you go Mr. Dillon.”

“Hey now, how’d it go?” The old pro at the counter inquired, re-hanging the key for future use.

“It was a draw.” I answered, pulling the tally sheets from my pocket for him to get a good look at. “We both got a seventy-three. Next time I’m making par.” I promised.

“I’m sure you will. I called up to the spa earlier. They’re waiting for you and Miss Hope.”

“Thank you. Tell Mrs. Dillon we said hey.”

“Will do.”

I only had a split second to duck behind the huge potted palm when I heard a distinctive voice enter the hallway outside of the Pro Shop heading our way.

“What are you doing?” Mr. Dillon hissed.

“Ssssh. Here he comes.” I pleaded, my forefinger pressed to my lip as I crouched lower to camouflage myself.

“Ah, good day Mr. DeAngelo. Done already?”

“It was a quick game.”

“Partner not any good?”

“No, not in the least.” He laughed, the sound sending tingles of anticipation through my body. I couldn’t resist peeking through the fronds to get a better look at his backside. And what a nice backside it was, the way his fitted khaki’s shorts emphasized his tapered waist, hugged his buttocks. The sleeve of his collared shirt damp with sweat hugged the muscular arms dashed with the same dark hairs that peppered his legs.

“Be sure and bring him by the next time you come, give him so practice. We don’t see you enough around here.”

“I’ll do my best. See you later Mr. Dillon.”

“Bye Danton.”

From my hiding spot, Danton looked over his shoulder. I didn’t doubt he could feel me watching him. I shrunk down further, holding my breath until he passed, counting to ten before I uncurled myself.

“Is he gone?” I asked, straightening my clothes as if hiding behind decorative foliage was normal.

“Yes.”

Mr. Dillon had long ago leaned not to ask any questions. He was used to my less than perfect behavior. You can’t imagine how many people can be matched when you’re a caddy!

“How’d he do?” I asked, instantly curious to see his score card.

“Seventy-one.”

“No way, he made par!” Ach, won by two strokes. That is he would have, had we been playing together, which we weren’t. At least, not yet. Hmmm. Mr. DeAngelo was turning into a most formidable opponent indeed.

“The boy doesn’t come around as much as he used to, like someone else I know.” The pro scolded. “I’m surprised you two haven’t run into each other before. Although work takes up a lot of his time nowadays and he‘s a few years older than you.”

“Trying to match make huh!” I said, calling him at his game. No one could out match the matchmaker. “How often does he come by?”

“Twice a month, Thursday and Sunday evenings if he can. Like I said, work takes up a lot of his time. His family owns some high fluting advertising agency.”

Interesting. The only time I could usually make time for a round was on Sunday mornings. We’d just been missing each other.

“So what else can you tell me?” I asked, encouraging Mr. Dillon to share what he knew. Hope was waiting for me, but since the old pro was being stingy with the details she was going to have to wait a little longer.

“Now Love, you know I’m not one to repeat gossip!” He chided.

“Come on Mr. Dillon,” I pleaded. “It’s not considered gossip if it’s common knowledge.” He couldn’t be swayed, so I racked my brain for a way to convince him to give it up. “It’s…it’s… I’ll tell you what it is; it’s the relaying of essential information to one party that has a particular interest in another party of which you are acquainted.” I smiled broadly at the end, hoping my pearly whites would convince him to spill the beans.

They didn‘t.

“All I can tell you that his father is Carmine DeAngelo. He and his brother Antonio own DeAngelo Advertising. That’s the name of the business. They’re down by the Harbor. Rumor is that Danton will inherit upon his death, having been groomed to take the reins since he was born. His mother is Chanton; she was a pretty popular model in her day before she and Carmine married. It was their chance meeting that put the agency on the map. They have since split, rather amicably a few years ago. She’s been married several times since.”

“Thanks bunches, I won’t tell.” I promised heading for the door. Hope didn’t like to be kept waiting.

“Since he’s with his dad today, they’re probably in the lounge having a drink or grabbing a bite to eat. You might want to head out the back way if you’re playing hard to get.”

Giving Mr. Dillon a parting wink, I headed for the back door. Unfortunately Hope would be waiting for me in the lobby directly off the lounge before heading up to the spa. Running around the building I hurried through the glass doors.

Hope had her back to me looking at the pictures and framed newspaper clipping that had accumulated on the wall over the years.

Crossing the tile floor at a quick pace, I drew up fast when I caught the sound of male laughter coming from the bathrooms. Oooh, Hope don’t look, don’t look, I screamed in my mind as I whirled around looking for a place to hide. Sure that if anyone was watching they were getting a good laugh at my expense.

I dove onto the sofa I spotted, snatched a copy of the Wall Street Journal in the process from the side table and buried my face in. As curiosity overrode my terror I couldn’t resist stealing a side peek as the four man group came into view. Danton and his father, their looks to similar to be anything else were joined by the blonde headed man I’d seen beside him last night at the restaurant, and an older man I recognized as being Melanie’s father, Antonio.

Again, as if he knew I was there, Danton looked in my direction. Hastily I tried to focus on the article I’d turned to, my heart pounding in my ears.

Had he seen me? Was he coming this way with the intentions of doing me bodily harm? What about bodily pleasure? Would he stand over me demanding recompense for the stunt I’d pulled just forty-eight hours before? Why oh why didn’t’ I think things through any better? I could have kidnapped the groom, held him hostage until the next day. Or I could have hired a private detective to take pictures of his indiscretions and had they delivered them to Melanie. Why had I confronted her cousin?

“Aaaah.” I screamed, throwing the newspaper into the air, a hand clamping down on my shoulder.

“What are you doing?”

I looked up from the sofa to glare balefully at Hope. “Nothing. I was just, um. That article on stocks and bonds caught my attention.”

“You don’t have any stocks and bonds.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been considering some. They might be a good investment.” I lied, picking the newspaper up from the floor.

Hope called my bluff. “Run into Danton again?” She knew me so well.

“Yeah. He just about had me in the Pro Shop.”

“Mr. Dillon know him?”

“Yep, his father owns an advertising agency down at the Harbor. His mother’s a formal model, Chanton, something or other.” Standing, I returned the newspaper to the table I’d plucked it from.

Hope rolled her eyes, less than happy with my meager supply of information. “Oh Lord, come on. I need a massage and a drink.”

“Me too.” It was hard work avoiding what fate threw at you. I wasn’t sure how

Hope had been doing it all these years.

“So, who’s paying?” She asked as we waited for the elevator.

“You are.”

“I am not.”

“Yes you are.”

“You are.”

“You are.”

Bickering like children we stepped into the elevator.

“I’ll pay for you, you pay for me.” Hope reasonably suggested.

“Sounds good.” I agreed.

Chapter 13

Past Life I

I knew when I told Everett just two days ago of Isabella that long dormant memories would resurface. So the dream didn’t take me completely by surprise. Deep in slumber I welcomed the sight of the beautiful child who was long grown and long dead.

This was my fifth life and in it I was known as Thalia, my sister Hope as Kyna and Faith as Gaea. We were the personal servants, and more importantly close friends, to Isabella d’Angouleme. Only daughter of Count d’Angouleme and great granddaughter to the King of France. This was the eve of her wedding to Hugh IX d’Lusignan, son of the Count d’La Marche. The date was August eighteenth, twelve hundred.

A dozen lit candles at their side, Kyna and Gaea were sitting by an open window adding last minute embroidery to Isabella’s wedding trousseau. Since I didn’t have the patience, nor the skill to help them, I was left to deal with the small dark haired figure laying face down on the bed she’d thrown herself on just moments before. Isabella at her tender age of twelve had a wonderful flair for the dramatic. Being beautiful and spoiled didn’t help in the least.

“Why is it that I, the intended bride, have no choice in who shall and shall not attend my wedding on the morrow?” Isabella asked, her words muffled by the bed clothes she‘d buried her head in.

Drifting up from the Great Hall below were the smells and sounds of a night feast. One full of ribald debauchery, unfit for Isabella’s tender aged eyes and ears.

With a less than lady like snort I hiked up my cumbersome skirts, crawling onto the feather filled mattress beside her.

“Mon ange,” I chided, pulling my pitch colored hair out of the way so I wouldn’t sit on it. “You know there is none who would dare refuse John. At least not to his face. He is England’s king. And you know as well as I that a woman’s opinion is rarely considered in these matters.”

I was not disappointed to hear the muffled scream in response to my answer. My charge was nothing if not predictable in her temperament. I rolled my green eyes at my sisters. It was typical of Isabella to say the first thing that came to mind, only waiting to think after she had all ready spoken.

“Did you not find England’s king to your liking?” I prodded, picking balls of lint from the covers. “He did seem to spark the interest of several ladies present this eve.”

“Preening peacock. I kept waiting for him to crow and flap his wings.” Flopping herself onto her back with a huff Isabella considered my prodding more closely, confessing she was not entirely displease by his presence as she‘d first let on. “Although he seemed to prick and goad my temper at every turn, I did notice an intelligent light in his eyes. He may yet serve England well.”

Progress made I scooted closer to Isabella. Drawing her head into my lap I began to smooth her hair and hum a comforting tune. It was a habit she’d been fond of since she was a mere babe. Placed in my arms at the tender age of eight I loved Isabella as if she were my own child.

“What say you Gaea and Kyna? You know I value your opinions as well as Thalia’s.”

“His teeth were white and his belly flat. Good reason for a man his age to strut.” Kyna winked, pulling at her thread. Her emerald eyes were full of cheer.

“He reminds me of a certain young miss with his fiery temperament. I can’t recall who though!” Gaea kidded.

“For shame Gaea. I am the pinnacle of lady like decorum and propriety!” Isabella lied with a straight face, causing us all to laugh at loud. “’Tis not my fault that my parents chose to have me associate with dolts and dimwits, whose very mere attendance urges my more uncouth instincts to the surface.”