Assassin Deception (10 page)

Chloe could feel James’ hand stroking her forehead, lulling her back to sleep. She clutched the medallion to her chest, her own heat warming it. She allowed her mind to drift while stilling her thoughts. Her eyes fluttered closed. Her breath deepened. Almost asleep, her mind returned to the one sentence she had been weaned on; James would take care of her, James would take care of everything.

Chapter Five

“I still don’t think this is such a good idea,” Chloe said fretfully. She was sitting at the vanity in her room; she could feel the bright lights bathing her face, warming her, making her sweat. Carrie, Candy and Casey had stormed in and declared it was time she got out of bed. She had been languishing for well over a week, insisting she was in too much pain to leave her room. At her doctor’s bill of good health the other women had pounced.

Protesting, Chloe had been washed, shampooed, manicured, pedicured, and dressed in one of the stunning outfits the women had picked out for her before her arrival. Her makeup had been applied meticulously to cover the vivid bruising at her temple, now that the bandaging had been removed. Her long dark hair had been brushed to a high glossy sheen, settling midway down her slender back, curling at the tips. The other women declared her to be gorgeous. Still, Chloe was apprehensive. She was afraid to leave the safety of her familiar bedroom.

“Everything will be fine, Chloe; we are all family,” Carrie insisted.

Chloe could picture the concern radiating from the tiny blonde’s sparkling, crystal-blue eyes, eyes that were the image of her father's, Dirk’s.

Chloe was still amazed with the thought Dirk had had a daughter when he was barely eighteen. That the woman, Carrie’s mother, had taken her from him in her infancy must have almost killed him. She knew how possessive Dirk was, everyone did.

Chloe was surprised Dirk had kept his word and stayed away from the child for as long as he had. Chloe knew Dirk had revealed himself to her only when he stepped in to rescue Carrie away from a slaver’s home just over two years prior. A home her husband, Tyr, had spirited her off to, with plans of setting her up with a new identity and freeing her.

She knew of the perils the young couple encountered. She knew for a while Dirk had hated Tyr and the two of them had often come to blows over the incident. She learned of Carrie’s inner strength, and marveled at it. She must have been terrified in such a setting, surrounded by numerous heavily-armed and callous men. Thank heaven for Dirk’s persistence, cunning, and brilliant tracking.

“Carrie is right, Chloe, you are family. I know we haven’t known each other too long, but I enjoy talking with you. We all want to see you up and around again,” Casey insisted.

Chloe felt like she had known the woman forever. Casey had made a point of sitting in her room, talking well into the night to keep her company when Damien was unavailable. She was open and honest, friendly to the extreme.

They had all taken their turns at not leaving her alone. Chloe had been dumbfounded when she had listened to Casey’s tale of how, through a heart-wrenching misunderstanding, Wolf had thought her to be an evil assassin.

He had been contracted to kill the poor woman while she fled from him on a deserted tropical island. The two had been shipwrecked together, and alone. Chloe had shuddered with the thought. Wolf was fiercely powerful, easily twice Casey and Chloe’s size; she would be terrified to have him after her. She couldn’t imagine being stalked by a
Wolf.

Only Candy had remained vague on how she and Dirk had met, avoiding details. The woman was exquisitely beautiful, with long, dark, curly hair and deep, dark brown, laughing eyes with crazy, long lashes. She seemed happy and content to be in the family, she was well loved by all, and there was no mistaking her pride in her son. It was easy to see James held a special spot in his heart for her.

Chloe knew Candy loved Dirk, there was no mistaking that. Her eyes followed him about to linger on him and yet when Chloe had asked, all Candy would disclose was that it was touch and go at first; she had needed to get used to Dirk and her surroundings. Dirk had saved her and Sammy, Carrie’s baby girl, from an evil man who'd planned on using the both of them for ill purposes.

Though all of the women surrounded her with encouragement, Chloe couldn’t shake her misgivings. She knew they cared, they just didn’t truly understand. How could they? How could she expect them to?

Chloe was having a hard time figuring out her own feelings. It was hard to explain the emotion of being lost within your own home, within your own self. Nothing seemed as it was supposed to be. On occasion when she felt certain of where she was, she would walk into something, trip and fall.

The embarrassment of always struggling with her frustrated tears was taking its toll. She hated to cry. Something needed to be done, yet Chloe was at a loss.

“Well, don’t you look beautiful,” Chloe heard from close by. She turned in the direction of Damien’s voice.

“I can’t do this,” Chloe whimpered in a small, pleading voice. “Please, Salvator, let me stay up here. I’m more comfortable up here out of everyone’s way.”

Damien was soon crouching before her, taking up her shaking hands. The others left discreetly, giving the couple some time. Damien lifted her hand and stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers.

“We are all family, Chloe. You are never in our way. What are you afraid of?”

“I’m afraid of falling down the stairs or into the dining room table, or off my seat. Of spilling something in my lap and being banished back to the children’s table because of my clumsiness. Of smearing food on my face and looking foolish. Of eating off someone else’s plate by accident. The list goes on and on, Damien. You have no idea what I’m feeling, I don’t want everyone to stare at me in pity,” Chloe said.

Damien pulled her down into his lap. His powerful arms closed around her, comforting her. He cuddled her while sitting on the rug, stroking her silken hair. It was such a familiar position. Damien had been doing this for years. He had always claimed when she needed him he could be strong for the both of them. If ever there was a time she needed his strength it was now.

“I can see and hear your fear,” Damien began. “It will get easier. No one expects a miracle of manners, sweetheart. We understand you’re going to have to learn how to cope with this, and so will we.

“Even eating and dressing are frustrating right now. But we can help. It won’t always be so frightening. I promise if Dad banishes you to the kids' table—and he won’t—I will go with you. You’ll have lots of company.

“Carrie is always complaining about the twins not being able to join us for dinner, so is Casey about Rhea. I imagine Candy will start soon enough with Jamie, although on second thought she may just wait until she’s finished breastfeeding him, though she’s very liberated and feeds him wherever, not that anyone minds. It’s sweet, and if someone doesn’t think so she cracks them one; or Casey does. Besides you can eat off my plate anytime. You used to when we were kids.”

Chloe groaned in remembrance. “That’s not fair! You know sometimes I came over here starving. I was afraid to ask for more. That nanny who sat with us at dinner always told me little girls weren’t supposed to make pigs of themselves. She looked like a frumpy old walking stick. But with boys it was different;
They will be twice as big once fully grown and need to eat
twice as much, dear
,” she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“Why do you think I would always take so much? She approved and I could share with you without going hungry myself. My mother always wondered why my pockets always appeared to be soggy; it was from stuffing them with food for you to eat later.

“I wish it had occurred to me to tell Dad on her; he would have put a stop to her double standards. I still shudder at the thought when we had creamed corn! Why couldn’t one of your favorites have been Brussels sprouts? Every night you would sneak downstairs, hoping for Mom to give you a cookie to get you through until breakfast.”

Chloe smiled. “Sometimes it was Dirk or James who came to my craving rescue and took pity on my rumbling tummy. Your father just thought I had a bottomless pit. Oh, how I miss those chewy homemade oatmeal cookies, with the sweetest raisins and almond slivers, and your mom’s blueberry pie. I’m certain they were flavored with love. I can almost smell it, lovely and warm with vanilla ice cream and hot chocolate, smothered in heavenly whipped cream.”

“So it was you eating all the pie! All that time I was blamed. You dared to laugh and called me glutton the other day. You rat! And Dirk and Dad were co-conspirators. Wait until I let them have it.”

Chloe chuckled, knowing by the tone of his voice he was smiling down on her, then she gasped as Damien rose to his feet, carrying her with him. Without giving her a chance to offer up more resistance he carried her, clinging to him, down the long hallway and the massive staircase. Chloe buried her face into his neck once more with frightened misgiving, while he soothed her with encouraging words. He promised he wouldn’t leave her for a second, she would be fine.

“There you are. We have been waiting for you,” James said.

Chloe blushed with embarrassment; she could inwardly see every pair of eyes settled onto her. Damien lowered her grandly onto a chair between himself and James. Once settled he handed Chloe a fork.

Damien whispered in her ear everything on her plate had already been cut into bite-sized pieces and she wouldn’t have to fuss with a knife until ready and comfortable.

This evening, as a courtesy to her awkwardness, they were forgoing soup and salad, as Chloe often made a mess with any entrees. She knew Damien was hesitant to place a bowl of soup before her that she would be required to feel. If too hot she would be burned, if chilled she would be embarrassed, as Damien knew she hated chilled soups. She was, after all, still acquiring skills in maneuvering utensil to plate and then to her mouth, ultimately preferring her fingers.

Damien took Chloe’s left hand and had her feel the outline of the plate. He encouraged her to keep her hand close to or touching the plate; its proximity would need to be well defined within her mind through touch.

“Your glass of wine, white not red, because red gives you a headache and we don’t want that, is just above your plate at eleven o’clock and only half full. Feel the stem of your glass; it’s touching your plate. Your veal, with a very light drizzle of mint sauce, so it won’t drip, is at twelve o’clock, your baby carrots, there are six left whole, at quarter after.

“For your dining pleasure, my dear, we have creamy whipped, not mashed, potatoes at six o’clock and your roll is of course buttered and waiting for you at a quarter to.” He then placed her fork into her right hand.

“Salvator,” Chloe began, feeling choked up. He was trying so hard. Being so patient and caring as his hands guided hers across the plate. Damien kissed the top of her head and sat himself down again beside her. She felt the reassurance of his soft fingertips caress the back of her neck.

“Plus, you will never guess what we are having for dessert…warm blueberry pie with ice cream, and no doubt hot chocolate with mounds of
heavenly
whipped cream,” Damien said dryly. She chuckled as she envisioned the wrathful look he must have leveled onto James and Dirk.

“Carrie is a fabulous cook and found her grandmother’s numerous cookbooks. She was informed of how much you loved blueberry pie and thought you might like some,” Dirk said.

“Thank you, Carrie, that was so thoughtful,” Chloe began, her eyes moistening. She smiled gratefully at her acceptance. After all, none of the women here had known her very long. At first she had felt like an outsider among them, yet they had been trying so hard to befriend her and make her feel welcome within their circle.

Chloe did feel welcome, and grateful. She had been feeling so sorry for herself, even wondering if death would have been preferable to a world of gripping darkness. Though she could not see their faces, she imagined their facial expressions with their voices.

She envisioned James’ relief when she maneuvered and managed to get a piece of veal to her mouth with no mishaps. She could almost see Dirk’s pride when her wine also made it to her lips and back to the table without spilling or clanking. After a bite of potatoes and much family chatter and reminiscing, she was unoffended when Damien took his napkin and dabbed at her cheek.