Promoted to Wife (Destiny Bay) (21 page)

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise,” he'd said, putting
down the book. “How long can you stay?”

“Only long enough to take care of business,” she'd replied, marching right up to the chair that held Angelina. With one deft flick of her thumb, she released the
valve at the back of Angelina's head. With a whoosh, the
doll flew into the air and began to sail around the room
like a spent balloon, hair flying, dress falling to the
ground. In no time she was nothing but a wrinkled piece
of hair and plastic.

“There,” Terry said with satisfaction. She turned sparkling eyes toward Rick. “And let that be a warning
to any other woman who tries to get in my way.”

His eyes were shimmering with laughter, but he pretended outrage. “Angelina!” he cried, bending down to
pick up what was left of her. “What have you done to my
Angelina?”

“No more than what she deserves. Flagrant hussy!”

His eyes were filled with tragedy. “First you try to drown Caren. Now this.” He shook his head. “What am I going to do with you, lady? You're lethal.”

“Keep that in mind,” she snapped out smartly, walk
ing up and pulling his head down for a quick kiss. “Don't
mess with me, honey,” she warned mockingly as she
drew away. “Take a message from Angelina.”

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said, falling back down on the
bed, arms open wide. “I'm your man. Do what you will
with me.” His grin was devilish. “Come on. Torture me with kisses. Insult me with your body. See how much I
can take.”

It would have been tempting to take him up on his
challenge, but there were others in the house and she
didn't dare. Throwing him a mock glare over her shoulder, she went to the door. “Just watch your step,” she
warned him. “Or I'll be back.”

His laughter followed her down the hall, warming her.
She only wished she had the right to warn off her rivals in
earnest. For the time being she was going to have to be
happy with defeating inflatable dolls.

It was only a day later that Julia dropped her
bombshell. She and Terry were sorting linens and chat
ting.

“Oh, by the way,” Julia said suddenly. “We'll have to get a spare bedroom ready. Caren is arriving tomorrow.”

“Caren?” Terry froze. Things had happened so
quickly between her and Rick since the last time Caren
was here, she'd forgotten all about her. “How long is she
planning to stay?”

“Just the one night, I believe. Although you never
know.” Julia smiled. “Rick may be able to convince her
to stay longer.”

Oh boy, Terry thought with a touch of sarcasm. What
a delightful prospect. It really was beyond her how Julia could urge a woman like Caren on Rick. Couldn't she see what a disaster Caren would be as a mother to the
children? Or perhaps, she thought a bit bitterly, that
didn't matter. The important thing was that Caren was of the right class and upbringing to be a Carrington. Gritting her teeth, she shook away that unworthy thought and got
back to work.

Rick came in a few moments later and she watched
him closely as Julia told him about Caren's visit.

“Caren?” he said casually. “Oh. Great.” Then he
caught Terry's glance and grinned. “Let's see if we can
keep her dry this time, shall we?”

Terry's answering smile was wan. Suddenly she felt
threatened.

That night she accidentally overheard Julia lecturing Rick in the sitting room. She was on her way in with coffee and she'd stopped outside the room to rearrange
the tray.

“You're a grown man and it's time you did something
about taking care of those children,” Julia was saying.

“Fine,” he said impatiently. “Why don't we put an ad in the Sunday
Times?
'Woman wanted. Object, matri
mony. Must be able to put up with decadent bachelor,
two obstinate children, and one irascible, meddling aunt.'“

“Don't be silly. You don't have to advertise. The solution to your problem is sitting right under your nose and
you know it.”

“Right under my nose, is she?” Rick began, but he broke off when Terry entered with the tray.

The two of them stared at her, halting their conversation, and she flushed, feeling like an interloper. Rick's eyes looked hard, almost angry, and Terry didn't under
stand why.

“Maybe you're right, Aunt Julia,” he said slowly, his
gaze on Terry. “Maybe it's just a matter of choosing the
time and place.” He straightened. “When did you say
Caren was coming?”

Terry fled, her cheeks hot, her temper rising. He
didn't need to taunt her with Caren. She was jealous
enough as it was.

Just a few nights before Rick had told her he was
beginning to take Julia's advice more seriously. They'd
been alone together on the veranda. The children and
Julia had already gone to bed, and Rick had gone out to sit under the stars. When the coast was clear, Terry had
joined him.

“Aunt Julia's right, you know,” he'd said at one point.
“It's not fair to the children to leave them motherless.
I'm going to have to do something about that soon.” His fingers were teasing her hair. “Too bad you're not in the
market for marriage,” he'd added softly.

Her face was turned away from him and she closed her eyes and steadied her voice before she spoke. “We career
butlers like it footloose and fancy-free,” she lied.

“Right,” he answered wryly. “I guess I'll just have to
keep looking for a wife.”

“Like you've done all your life?” She turned and
flashed him a quick smile meant to reassure him that she was only joking. “You've auditioned so many women for
the part, you ought to be an expert by now. Not to men
tion having a cast of thousands on call.”

He chuckled. “Bit of an exaggeration there,” he admitted. He leaned closer, put an arm around her shoulders, and began to sing “The Girl That I Marry” very softly,
near her ear.

She'd closed her eyes and dreamed that he was singing about her, wishing, longing
...
and now she knew he'd
had Caren in mind all along.

She slammed down her tray in the kitchen, heedless of
Anatole's stare, and marched out again, mumbling curses
under her breath. Good old Terry Yardley was fine for a
roll in the hay, but when it came to the real stuff, only a
woman of Caren's caliber would do—even if she hated
children! The unfairness of it all made Terry furious.

Caren arrived at noon the next day, but without her
usual bravado. In fact, she looked downright nervous.

“Is Rick around?” she asked before Terry had a
chance to greet her.

“No, I'm afraid he took the children out to the ranch. ...”

“Good.” She sighed with relief. “I want some time to relax and get freshened up before I see him.” She looked
at Terry, suddenly seeming to remember who she was.
“I'm sure you've been taking good care of our Rick
while I've been gone,” she said coolly. “But don't worry,
dear. I can take over now. In every department.”

Terry raised an eyebrow as she took the woman's
wrap, but said nothing.

“I've decided to go all out over this,” Caren continued firmly. “I'm even going to play with the children. What do they play, do you know? It won't be in the dirt, will
it?”

Terry ignored the question. “Does Rick know about
your change of heart?” she asked. “It may not fit in with
his plans.”

Caren's gaze hardened. “I usually do find a way to get
what I want. And I want him.”

It was on the tip of Terry's tongue to tell her, “So do
I!” but she held it back.

Rick came back later in the afternoon and Julia took the children into town to have a dinner with their Aunt Shelley, Rick’s youngest sister, leaving Rick and Caren to dine alone. Terry was forced to serve for them at the small, intimate alcove table rather than the larger, formal table
in the dining room.

Serving for them was pure torture. She tried to glide around the table in classic, invisible servant style, but in order to do that a server needed to keep her mind on the task at hand. Terry's mind kept wandering.

In the first place, they were sitting much too close. Instead of using the two settings she'd placed for them, across the table from each other, they pulled their place mats and chairs around so that they could eat and talk side by side, elbows touching. And most of their conversation was made in such soft voices, they had to bend close to hear, and Terry missed most of it herself.

She almost spilled soup on Caren's silk sarong, but Rick caught the bowl in time, scooping it out of the air in spectacular fashion, to Caren's enthusiastic applause.

As he handed back the bowl his look was questioning, but Terry refused to show any embarrassment.

“Clumsy of you, Yardley,” he drawled.

Her eyes were cool and level. “It won't happen again, sir.”

“Won't it?” His grin was skeptical, but he sat back down and seemed to forget all about her. She went on serving, cursing her own clumsiness, cursing butler-dom in general, and most of all, cursing Caren.

Rick laughed much too hard at Caren's quips and Caren leaned much too close to him every time she had something to say. Holding the serving plate while they each took their share of the shrimp rosemary, Terry decided she understood what drove some murderers to their evil deeds.

At last the awful dinner was over and she had only to serve the after-dinner drinks and coffee before she could escape. She brought in the liqueur in the tiny crystal glasses, and as she left, Rick rose and followed her to
the door.
 

“That will be all, Yardley,” he said. “We can manage from here.” Leaning out where only she could hear, he added, “Do you remember how I asked you to help shield me from the women Julia brought around?”

She nodded, eyes wide and hopeful.

He grinned. “Well, as of now, you can cancel that or
der. I think I can handle this one all by myself.”

She fought hard to keep her disappointment from showing. “Great,” she said through clenched teeth. “I
was hoping for an early night.” Whirling, she marched
away.

The next few hours stretched endlessly. She tried going
to bed, but she couldn't lie still. Slipping across the hall, she borrowed Erica's iPod and earbuds,
but when she got back
to her room she found she couldn't isolate herself that
way. She had to know what was going on in the house.

Moments later she was sorry she hadn't wrapped her head in noise. First there was a scraping in the hall, then a distinctive giggle. Rick and Caren were coming up
stairs.

She waited, breath held, for him to leave Caren at the
bedroom Terry had prepared. But they walked right
past it. They were whispering, but not softly enough.

“Oh Rick, you sly dog...” came through clearly,
and then more giggles.

Terry was suspended, not breathing, not hoping. She
heard Rick's door open, then a shriek of laughter from
Caren, an outburst that was quickly stifled, as though he'd covered her mouth with something, and then the
door was firmly closed and there wasn't another sound.

Terry let her breath out in a gasp and reached for the iPod, jamming the earbuds in and turning to the loudest rock-and-roll tune she could find. Mind-blow
ing oblivion was better than facing what was going on in
the room down the hall.
 

The next morning she was up before anyone else.
There was no point to staying in bed. She couldn't sleep and she decided she might as well be doing something constructive. She was downstairs when a motorcycle arrived. Hurrying to the door to forestall the visitor from ringing the bell and waking everyone in the house, she found herself confronted by a uniformed delivery boy.

“Message for Mr. Rick Carrington,” the teenager said,
holding out a sealed envelope.

“Thanks,” Terry said, rummaging for money in her
pocket. “I'll put it on his breakfast tray.”

“I need a response immediately,” the boy insisted. “I was told to wait for the reply and take it back with me
right away.”

Terry looked at him, then at the envelope, wondering
if it was from Rick's grandfather. There was no evi
dence of where it had come from. “He's asleep,” she said.

The boy stood his ground. “The message is most ur
gent,” he said. “Please wake him.”

Terry hesitated. She had no idea who the message was
from. And she didn't relish the prospect of barging into
Rick's bedroom. Chances were that Caren was still there.

“Please,” the boy said again, and she bit her lip.

“All right,” she decided at last. “Wait in the kitchen.”

Taking the envelope, she raced up the stairs, then
stood outside Rick's bedroom, steeling herself. She
knocked sharply on the door. “Mr. Carrington?” she called.