Where the Heart Chooses (44 page)

“No. He takes it as a personal affront that
Mark managed to wipe the security tapes, not once, but twice!”

“It’s going to be interesting to finally
meet him.”

“Just remember we’ll be in a cemetery.
Please don’t brawl.”

“Brawl?
Moi
? Not likely, little
sister.”

* * * *

Quinton and Mark were there when we
arrived.

“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting.”

“That’s okay, Mrs. Mann. We just got here
anyway.”

“Shall we, Mother?”

“Yes, sweetheart.” I took his left arm and
Jefferson’s right, and once we arrived at Nigel’s grave, Jefferson
stepped back.

“I’ll just go introduce myself to Vincent,”
he said.

Quinton and I exchanged glances as we
watched him walk away. “He can take care of himself.”

“Jefferson or Mark?”

Quinton laughed, and we both turned to
Nigel’s grave.

“Merry Christmas, darling.” In spite of the
number of years it had been, my eyes burned. “Do you remember that
old Chinese curse,
May you live in interesting times
? Well,
this has certainly been an interesting year.” I went on to tell him
about meeting Mark Vincent as Harriman Patterson in January.
“Although Mark’s never admitted to the fact in so many words.”

“I mentioned him last year, Father. Do you
remember? I learned he was keeping a dossier on me, and we began
playing a series of mind games. Somehow we became…involved. I hope
you wouldn’t be disappointed in me.”

“Never, sweetheart,” I murmured. I slipped
my arm through his and held it tightly. “Mark rescued Quinton in
May, after he’d been kidnapped by a lunatic who wanted to create an
antiterrorist organization to replace the Division. I’m sure you
remember Richard Méchant. I seem to recall you having a few choice
words to say about him and that witch who’d recruited him”

“Was that his name, Mother? No one seemed to
know.”

We knew. “He was a few knights short a
Crusade even then. Quinton killed him, darling, but Mark made sure
he got the opportunity.”

“And he was so annoyed.” Our son laughed
softly. “He wanted the pleasure for himself. I’m sorry, Mother.
This is your time to talk to Father.”

“It all intertwines, sweetheart. This seems
to be the year of ‘Richards.’ For some reason, Senator Wexler has
been coming after me. You wouldn’t know him. He first came to D.C.
in 1980.” At that time he hadn’t caused much of a ripple on the
political scene, but in the past ten years or so, he’d made quite a
name for himself in conservative circles. “His pursuit resulted in
a serious car accident. Both Gregor and I are fine.”

“Not quite fine, Mother. You’ll need that
cane for at least another month, and you’re still unable to
ride.”

“Let me just say that we lived.” I wondered
if I should tell Nigel about the dream I’d had just before I
regained consciousness, but then decided against it. “Why don’t you
continue, Quinton?”

“All right. We learned afterward that I was
the one who was supposed to be in that accident—Mother and Gregor
were in my car. Mark dealt with the man who caused Mother’s
accident, although if you ask him, that’s something else he’ll
deny. He’s WBIS to the core. In addition, I was sent on purposeless
missions and was unable to sleep—I thought it was post-traumatic
stress because of what happened in Paris. Mark got to the bottom of
that as well, and the uncles dealt with it.” He lowered his voice.
“A videotape turned up that showed Edward Holmes wearing lingerie
and a wig and playing with two rent boys and a call girl. Uncle
Bryan made Holmes promise to leave me alone, and then gave him the
tape. The thing is, Holmes is so paranoid, he won’t believe that’s
the only copy, and so he’ll behave. Mark…” He smiled. “He’s
spending Christmas with us, and tomorrow he and I will fly to his
island off Costa Rica. But we’ll be home in time for the New Year’s
Eve party. I…I like him, Father.”

“As do I.”

“Do you?” He looked pleased. We were silent
for a moment, and then he said, “We’d better go.”

“Yes. I miss you, darling. We’ll be back
next year.”

* * * *

“So tell me,” I said as Jefferson began the
drive back to Great Falls. “What did you think of Mark?”

“He’s interesting,” Ludovic responded.

“He’s WBIS,” Jefferson answered at the same
time.

“Quinton likes him.
I
like him.”

“Yes, but what does Vincent feel for
Quinn?”

“Keep in mind Mark went against WBIS policy
to rescue Quinton. Is it likely he would have done that if he had
no feelings for him?”

“Well…I imagine not.”

“No. Please don’t make Quinton have to
choose between Mark and the family.”

“You think he’d choose Vincent?”

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to find out,
because no matter what his choice, it would break his heart.
Jefferson, I haven’t seen him this happy…this
buoyant
…since
he was a boy. I’ll do whatever it takes to see he stays this
happy.”

He took his eyes off the road for a second.
“What do you mean?”

“This family…we say we believe in leaving
well enough alone, but we don’t. Grandfather decided Mother was the
perfect match for Father, in spite of the fact she wasn’t his one.
Father thought the perfect solution for me was to be seen with
Nigel, until he realized Nigel wouldn’t accede to his demands, and
then he wanted me to see other men.”

“He did? I was unaware…”

“You were in Europe most of the time,
Jefferson. I finally asked Father who would be better for the ice
princess than Mr. Freeze, and he backed off. But that didn’t stop
him from interfering again. He decided he wanted grandsons with the
Sebring name, and Bryan wound up marrying Johanna.”

“I knew she wasn’t his one, but he’d seemed
happy enough.”

“And again, you were in Europe for the most
part.”

“So what are you saying?”

“Leave Quinton alone. If he wants Mark
Vincent, that’s his business.”

“But the Company—”

“After the marked lack of action on their
part when not only Quinton but all those officers were kidnapped,
do you think I care an iota about the CIA? As far as I’m concerned,
they can go—”

“Portia!”

“—take a long walk off a short pier. What
did you think I was going to say?”

Ludovic burst into laughter, and finally,
reluctantly, Jefferson joined him.

“All right, little sister. I’ll back
off.”

“Thank you. Now, can I persuade you to tell
me what you got me for Christmas?”

“No, no! You’ll have to wait, just like the
rest of us!”

“Spoilsport.” We spent the rest of the ride
regaling Ludovic with tales of presents of Christmases past.

* * * *

“I understand Quinn took you to see
The
Phantom
,” Jefferson said to Mark as we sat down
to dinner.

“Yeah.”

“What did you think of it?”

“I thought the ending was all wrong, but…”
He shrugged. “It was good.”

“What was wrong with the ending?”

“I kept hoping he’d win.”

“He was a psychopath!” Gregor snapped. “How
could that be possible?”

Mark smiled at Quinton, but when he turned
his gaze to Gregor, it was cool. “It was for me.”

“You’re not a psychopath!” Quinton snapped
at Mark. “And don’t give me that bull about being a sociopath,
either!”

Mark hunched a shoulder, but I could see he
was pleased.

Gregor opened his mouth, and under the
table, I stepped on his toe. “Pass the biscuits, please?”

* * * *

We exchanged gifts after dinner and had
coffee and
Medovnik
, a Czech honey cake Alyona had taught
Gregor to make.

Christmas with my family was always good,
but I couldn’t remember one that touched me as much. Quinton had
seen the lynx coat his father had bought me on our honeymoon was
repaired. I kept myself from weeping over seeing it in one, perfect
piece again, but it took all the training Mother had insisted
upon.

In addition, Mark had given me a family
portrait he’d commissioned of me, an adult Quinton, and Nigel
appearing as he would if he were still alive.

I knew that portrait would hang on the wall
of the bedroom that had once been mine and Nigel’s and was now mine
alone.

Now it was getting late. Quinton and Mark
had left. My brother and his partner were staying the night, and
while Jefferson read the directions for the model of the
USS
Constitution
, Ludovic picked through the basket of goodies that
were from home.

Mark gave them those gifts.

Gregor grumbled about the white socks that
were his gift from Mark, and I couldn’t help laughing at him. In
red lettering, one read
Big Bad Gregor’s Sock
, while the
other read
Big Bad Gregor’s Other Sock
.

“It was a lovely day,” I murmured as he
followed me into my bedroom, carrying the portrait Mark had given
me. Each time I saw it, it took my breath away.

“Vincent did something of good, and if you
tell him I said that, I’ll deny it!”

“Very well, Gregor.”

“Now, where do you want to hang this?

I gazed around the room. “This wall.” The
space between the two floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto
the side lawn would be perfect. The seascape that had once hung
there had long since been placed opposite the desk in my
office.

“Okay.” He propped the painting against the
dresser and took the tape measure and the level I’d brought up.
“How high?”

I stood back by the door and studied the
wall. “I’d say about here.” I pointed to the spot.

Gregor measured and leveled, put in the
hooks, and hung the painting.

“Oh, yes, that’s perfect! Thank you,
Gregor!” I hugged him and started to kiss his cheek, but he turned
his head, and our lips met and for a second clung.

“Oh God, I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” He was
shaking, and I tightened my embrace for just a moment.

“Shh. It’s all right. Shh.” This time I did
kiss his cheek, and then I released him.

“Can we forget this even happened?” He
looked shaken.

“Yes.” Although I had a feeling it would
take me some time to accomplish that. It had been a good many years
since I’d kissed a man’s mouth, and I’d forgotten the electrical
shock of it.

But Gregor was not only my employee, he was
my friend as well, and I wouldn’t do anything to make him any more
uncomfortable than he already was.

“Portia…”

“It’s Christmas. Why don’t we simply
consider this as being caught under the mistletoe?” I smiled at
him. “Now, suppose we go downstairs and have a cup of tea?”

“May I tell you something, Portia?”

“Certainly.” I slid my arm through his, and
we strolled out of my bedroom.

“I’ve always hated tea.”

I laughed and squeezed his arm, but I
remembered that dream in the hospital.
Had
it been a
dream?

I didn’t think I was going to find out.
Being honorable was difficult, but it was the only route Sebrings
took.

* * * *

Ludovic packed away the suitcases, gifts,
and containers of leftovers into his Aston Martin, and now he and
Jefferson were ready for the trip back to Shadow Brook.

“A little Boxing Day gift for you, from me,”
he murmured as he handed me a small package. He got behind the
wheel. “Don’t dawdle, pet.”

“Coming. Thank you for a wonderful time,
Portia.” Jefferson kissed my cheek. “We’ll see you next
Tuesday.”

They were gone with a final wave, and I
opened the box. Inside was a locket, and when I opened it, I found
it engraved with the words
Just because the way you love someone
isn’t the way they want you to…It doesn’t mean you don’t love them
with all you have.

I turned and made my way into the house,
closing the door behind me.

Gregor was coming down the stairs, carrying
a duffel bag. “I’m…I’m driving up to see Alyona.”

“Oh. Well, give me a few minutes to pack and
I’ll go with you.”

“No. I mean…your hip isn’t well enough to
handle the five hour drive.” He was pushing me away.

However, I wouldn’t hold on when he wanted
to leave. I gave him a faint smile. “I imagine you’re right. I’d
better pamper it for next week’s drive to Shadow Brook. Give Alyona
my love. And drive carefully.”

“I will.” He hesitated for a moment, then
tightened his grip on his duffel and walked out the door.

I turned the lock and used the cane to limp
through the rooms on the first floor. Each one was tidy, and in the
kitchen, the dishwasher had been run and was empty. There was
nothing for me to do. And I had never felt so alone.

I was startled by the sound of the front
door banging open and rapid footsteps coming down the hallway.

“Portia!”

I breathed a sigh of relief and slid my
Smith & Wesson into my pocket. “I’m in the kitchen!” I
called.

Gregor came to stand in the doorway.
“I…I…”

“What is it, my friend?”

“I want to be more than your friend. I’m
sorry, I know you’ll always love Nigel, but I swear that doesn’t
matter to me. Please let me…”

I limped toward him, so intent I didn’t
realize I’d left my cane behind, and raised my hand to cup his
cheek. “Gregor,” I breathed. I recalled what I’d told Ludovic so
many years ago, the words he’d had engraved in the locket. “My dear
one.”

The accidental kiss had been nice, but the
one on purpose was so much better.

* * * *

I had to be dreaming. It was the middle of
February, and the warmth of this place was more suitable for early
summer.

Someone was approaching me, but the
brightness of the sun prevented me from seeing who it was. I raised
my hand to shield my eyes, but it was still difficult to see.