At The Playboy's Command. Robyn Grady
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Blackmail … Baby …
He couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling. That noise again.
Heart lurching, he threw off the covers then heard Elizabeth shift, sit up.
“Where are you going?”
“Nowhere. Just outside.” On his feet, Daniel found his trousers. He wouldn’t bother with the shirt.
“What’s outside?”
He held up a warning hand. “Just stay put.”
“Daniel, what is it?”
“I don’t know. Probably nothing.” He came back to dot a kiss on her crown. “I want to make sure.”
“Well, you’re not going alone.”
“For God’s sake, Beth, do as I say.”
Daniel realized he’d used the shorter, more familiar derivative of her name at the same time she pressed her lips together and threw back the cover, too.
“No.”
He wanted to stride off ahead, but, man or woman, this was her property. He couldn’t stop her, unless he manacled her to the bed. Hell, that might not even hold her.
On the way out, she grabbed a silk robe off the chaise and, with her lashing the tie, they double-timed it down the stairs. At the bottom, in the dark, she caught his shoulder.
“I’ll get a rifle,” she whispered.
Daniel recoiled. Not if he could help it. He didn’t want a potentially bad situation made worse. And he knew from experience, where guns were involved, things could always get worse.
He shooed her around and close behind. “Just don’t go doing anything brave.”
Gingerly, he unlocked the door and, as the cool air brushed his skin, he cast a wary glance around the quiet grounds. All seemed routine. The night was tranquil. The low lawn lights shone across strips of grounds. And still, unease rippled up his spine.
Then, way off down the driveway, an engine ignited. A quick flash of headlights as the vehicle hit the main road and then the rumble faded into the distance. Cursing, Daniel thumped the doorjamb. He’d known it wasn’t his imagination.
Elizabeth stepped forward and nudged his ribs. “Told you there was nothing to go get all edgy about.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her.
“You do realize trespassers just left your property, right?”
Maybe someone who was aware of her sympathies with Abigail’s camp and her Yankee architect. Maybe someone who, under the cloak of night, wanted to show Elizabeth she was backing the wrong side.
But Elizabeth only laughed. “They weren’t trespassers, silly. Don’t you see something missing?”
Daniel had taken a breath, ready to tell her to go back inside so he could call the sheriff, when the truth of what she’d said slapped him upside the head. Turning around, he examined the lawn and sank into himself. Of course, that’s what didn’t fit. Those blasted flamingos were gone.
Thank God. And for more than one reason.
Nonetheless, he wouldn’t shake the feeling that something big, bad and unlawful was going down in Royal. Something gritty he wanted nothing to do with. Elizabeth, either.
While he scowled around the parameters, she threaded an arm through his and gave it a tug. “C’mon, cowboy. Let’s go inside.”
Giving in, he turned, but stopped again when his bare foot met with an object that shouldn’t have been there. Frowning, he crouched and collected an envelope. On the front was handwritten scrawl.
To Elizabeth Milton.
Grunting, he flipped it over. “Appears someone’s desperate to get in touch.”
Elizabeth slipped the envelope from his hand, ripping open the seal as they moved into the house. After flicking on some lights, she slid a single sheet out. She read to herself, every so often nodding solemnly.
As the seconds ticked by, Daniel craned to have a look.
“Who’s it from?”
She waved the letter as if it were nothing more than a local flyer. “A friend.”
“What friend?” he demanded, following as she flicked on more lights and headed down the hall.
“I, er, don’t exactly know.”
Daniel’s hackles went up. If she was in trouble, he wanted to know. And he wanted to know now.
Stopping in the kitchen, he set his fists low on his hips. “I think you’d better tell me.”
At the granite island counter, she sized him up as if suddenly, after spending hours of giving herself so completely, she wasn’t so sure she could trust him. But then she exhaled. Her slender shoulders in the black silk robe slumped and, setting the letter down, she grabbed the empty coffeepot.
“Someone needs help.”
His hands lowered. Now they were getting somewhere.
“Who? What kind of help?”
“A woman and her children.” She rinsed the pot and set it back on its perch. “She’s from the Midwest. Apparently when her family lost everything in a tornado, her husband lost it, as well. Seems he became physically violent. It was getting worse.”
“What’s all that got to do with you?”
“That woman and her children escaped and came down here to be near her sister, who’s down on her luck at the moment, too. The future looks uncertain, particularly if the husband decides to run her through some rings and take her to court for custody.” Scooping out coffee grinds, her voice lowered. “Or decides to take the law into his own hands.”
Daniel fought the chill scuttling down his backbone. He made it his business not to think too closely on the subject of broken homes. God knows, there were a lot of them. But this minute, seeing the concern lining Elizabeth’s face, it wasn’t so easy to pull down his shutter and walk away. Moving around the island to join her, he softened his tone.
“That doesn’t explain why you received a letter in the middle of the night.”
“It’s not common knowledge.” She eyed him sternly. “Promise now to not say a word.” He swept a finger twice over his heart. “Sometimes when this kind of situation seeps into Royal, the information reaches certain people through the shelter. People who like to give well-deserving individuals a new start, particularly children.”
“Certain people being you?”
Setting her jaw, she raised her chin. “I give them some cash, a car, help find them a job if I can.” She flicked the percolator on. “I don’t advertise.”
Daniel lowered his weight onto the nearest kitchen stool and absorbed the new twist. In this town, secrets went deep and the surprises kept coming. But something didn’t add up.
“Your generosity must have limits, particular criteria.” He thought she had restraints. “Do you run this by Tremain?”
“He doesn’t approve. But he knows it’s one of the things that keeps me here.” Setting two mugs on the counter, she looked at him. “Don’t get me wrong. I love the ranch. But this more than compensates for …”
Her words trailed off.
“For the fact you’re caged in five sixths of the year,” he finished for her, for the first time truly feeling the ramifications of that sacrifice.
“If I left, I wouldn’t lose absolutely everything. I’d still have a trust, but I couldn’t help others to the extent I do now.”
His heart