Day of Reckoning. B.J. Daniels
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“Liam Sawyer,” Rozalyn snapped. “But if you really were his friend, wouldn’t you know that?”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you?” Ford stared at her. And just when he thought his luck couldn’t get any worse. Liam Sawyer’s daughter. I’ll be damned.
His gaze went to her lips. Her mouth was a wide, full mouth, sensual. He wished he’d taken more time with that kiss in the garden. All that kiss had done was whet his appetite. But if he got another chance—
Then his gaze drifted up to her eyes. He couldn’t help but chuckle. If looks could kill, he’d be pushing up daisies right now. He didn’t even want to think about his chances of ever getting to kiss this woman again.
“You think this is funny?” she demanded.
“Not really.” Ironic? Tragic? Just his luck that this crazy doe-eyed strawberry blonde was Liam Sawyer’s daughter.
He couldn’t help but think about earlier when he’d had her in his arms. Unconsciously, he rubbed his shin and saw the hint of a smile curve her lips. No question about it, she was a menace and now she was his.
Why hadn’t someone told him Liam had a daughter? Didn’t he remember Rozalyn saying something about it having been years since she’d been up here? Yeah. So maybe that was the reason he was taken completely unaware.
He knew the old man had remarried and had a couple of adult stepchildren—but a daughter who looked like this? Worse, a daughter who was obviously going to make things harder for him? Oh, hell. This changed things considerably.
“I can’t believe you’d be so rude to our guest,” Emily said, sounding close to tears.
“This man is not our guest,” Rozalyn said, narrowing those eyes at him with obvious venom.
He figured her bite was probably worse than her bark—or her kick. Clearly, Rozalyn was a woman to be reckoned with.
“Why don’t you tell us, Mr. Lancaster, what you’re really doing here?” She glared at him as if she hadn’t missed him giving her the once-over. Those big brown eyes were hot with anger and a clear warning.
This wasn’t going to be easy. But there were ways. Even with a woman like her. A woman who thought she didn’t need a man.
“I guess the cat has his tongue. Mr. Lancaster here is the man who wrote the article about my father, calling him a liar and a fraud,” Rozalyn said, still glaring at him.
“What article?” Emily asked.
“The article that accused him of faking photographs of Bigfoot and perpetuating a hoax,” Rozalyn said. “It was my father’s word against Ford Lancaster and his so-called experts.”
Not exactly, Ford thought. There’d been another man with Liam Sawyer, another witness, who had also been discredited. And that article had been years ago. “I need to talk to you,” he said to Rozalyn as he got to his feet.
She shot him a when-hell-freezes-over look.
“Maybe it was another Ford Lancaster,” Emily suggested.
“How many Ford Lancasters do you think there are?” Rozalyn demanded.
A maid appeared in the doorway behind Rozalyn. “Excuse me. There’s someone here to see you.”
No one seemed to hear her.
“Wasn’t that article years ago?” Drew asked.
“Yes,” Emily chimed in. “Who would even remember, let alone care—”
“I remember and I care,” Rozalyn shot back. “So does my father. Do you know the man you married at all? Or what matters to him? Do you have any idea what that article did to him?”
“I’m sure Mother didn’t know Mr. Lancaster wrote the article when she offered him the guest house,” Drew said.
“Of course not,” Emily said. “I would never do anything to hurt Liam. Or you, Rozalyn, dear. He told me he was a friend of Liam’s, and since there was no place in town to stay…”
“Excuse me. There is someone here to see you,” the maid repeated.
“Ilsa, can’t you see we’re about to have dinner?” Emily snapped. “Tell whoever it is to come back some other time and close the doors behind you.” She shot Rozalyn a look as if to say now everyone in town will be talking about your behavior.
“It’s the sheriff. He wants to speak to Rozalyn,” Ilse persisted.
“Rozalyn? Why would the sheriff want to talk to her?” Emily said as if it was the prince at the door with a glass slipper. “Oh Rozalyn, you didn’t already involve the sheriff in our affairs, did you?”
“What do you want me to tell the sheriff?” the maid asked nervously. “Should I tell him to come back?”
“No, Rozalyn and I will both see him,” Ford said. The maid turned tail and disappeared down the hall. “If you will excuse me,” he said to Emily and the others. “I apologize, Emily, but Rozalyn and I really do need to talk to the sheriff.”
Ford took Roz’s arm and practically dragged her out into the hallway, closing the French doors firmly behind them.
“We have to talk,” he whispered. “I had no idea Liam had a daughter. But now that I do… I’m here because I think your father is in trouble.” He held up a hand to ward off her questions. “I will explain later. Right now we need to see the sheriff. I assume you called him about earlier and that’s why he’s here?”
She jerked free, but he could see her anger deflating at his words. “My father’s in trouble?”
“Possibly. Look, you called the sheriff about what you thought you saw at the falls, right? Let’s get this over with, then you can tell me what you think of me at length,” he said reasonably. “And I’ll tell you everything I know about your father.”
She obviously didn’t feel like being reasonable. “I want to know why my father is in trouble and what that has to do with you and I want to know now,” she said, keeping her voice down.
He groaned. “There isn’t time now.” He looked past her to where the sheriff was standing and watching them, then lowered his head and said quietly, “If you say anything to the sheriff, I’ll deny it and you will never know why I’m here.”
Her eyes flared with anger.
“Let’s tell the sheriff what you saw,” he added, loud enough that the officer of the law could hear.
Her body trembled with obvious rage as he took her arm and drew her toward the front door and the sheriff.
“Mitch,” she said when she saw the uniformed man at the door. She broke free of Ford’s grasp and rushed toward the sheriff.
Mitch? She knew him? Of course she might. She must have lived here until her mother had died. Sure. The conversation he’d overheard in the garden was starting to make sense. So was her relationship with the people in the dining room.
Ford met the sheriff’s interested gaze, and felt his insides tighten. The sheriff had come for more than just a statement from Rozalyn about a possible suicide at Lost Creek Falls. Ford stood back, watching the sheriff’s face and Rozalyn’s body language. She hugged the cop and they exchanged a few pleasantries, then Ford heard the words he’d been dreading.
“A fall? Is Dad all right?”
The sheriff had taken off his hat. “He’s in a coma, Roz.”
“We have to get him flown out to Eugene, to the hospital there—”
The sheriff was shaking his head. “His condition is such that the doc says he can’t be moved right now.”
“I’m going to the hospital to see him,”