Deception (43 page)

“This room is magnificent,” Carol pronounced. “Now, this is something to work toward.” She turned back to look at Connor.

“I see your point,” Connor lifted an eyebrow.

“The ceilings in the rest of the house are high enough. We could work with those. And the mantels are good. With some new windows, carpeting, some comfortable furniture …” Carol walked forward, captured by the mosaic tiles along the pool. “How interesting.”

Connor remained in the hallway as the two women drifted about the room, oohing and aahing over plants and tile and roofline. Of all the rooms in the house, Connor disliked only the garden room. She hadn’t been in there since the night Renata had fallen into the pool. What had she seen? For the first time since the incident, she deliberately tried to replay it in her mind. She’d heard Renata talking either to herself or to someone hidden behind the plants. There had been a splash, the sound of a struggle, and then she’d rushed forward to find Renata in the water.

The sound of the women talking brought Connor out of her reverie. She glanced in the mirror to her right. Behind her, hands upraised, was the woman in the black dress. Her dark eyes caught Connor’s in the glass and held. A slow smile crept over her face as she lifted a claw-foot hammer.

Connor threw up an arm to ward off the blow. The handle of the hammer struck her forearm a glancing blow. Reeling backwards, Connor struck one of the mirrors. Glass shattered as Connor fell, down, down into the silver shards.

The pungent odor assaulted her nostrils, and Connor pulled back, flailing with her arms until someone restrained her.

“Your bride seems to have an equilibrium problem, or else she’s hitting the bottle harder than anyone suspects.” Harlan withdrew the ammonia vial he held under Connor’s nose.

Connor opened her eyes to find Harlan bending over her, a shock of blond hair over his eyes and his suit wrinkled.

“She’s coming ‘round now,” he said, tilting back on his heels. Clay stepped forward, worry on every feature.

“Clay,” Connor shifted, positioning her body to sit up. She was lying on the floor, and she could feel what she suspected was blood trickling down her ear and into her hair.

“Just stay there,” Clay said. “Amanda said you slipped on something and crashed into one of the mirrors.”

“Clay … of course. My heel slipped.” Connor knew exactly what had happened, but she didn’t want to start an explanation in front of Harlan and the dozen or so other people who stood around, gaping at the wounded bride. “I think I can sit up.”

“You banged the hell out of your head,” Harlan said, pushing her hair back. “You’re going to need a few stitches for sure.”

A jolt of pain arced through her head at Harlan’s touch, followed by a wave of dizziness. She fought the impulse to lie back and cry.

“Let’s move her to the library,” Clay said. Pushing Harlan aside, he scooped her up in his arms. There was the tinkle of glass as he lifted her from the wreckage.

“That mirror must have cost a fortune. Such a shame,” Amanda Frost whispered. “There wasn’t a thing on the floor. Poor Connor, what a way to end her wedding!”

Cradled in Clay’s arms, Connor ignored the woman and all the whispers. They could think what they wanted. She hadn’t stumbled into a mirror; someone had tried to kill her, and she was lucky to be alive to tell about it.

“Clay, I have to talk to you,” she whispered in his ear.

“Let Harlan put in a few stitches, and while he’s doing that, I’ll assist our guests in leaving.” He kissed her cheek. “Poor baby, you’ve had a hell of a day.”

“Someone tried to kill me.” She clung to Clay’s neck and whispered in his ear. Even saying the words made her want to cry.

“Easy, Connor,” Clay whispered back. “Take it easy. You had a nasty fall. From the looks of your head, you hit that mirror pretty hard. You must have struck your temple on the frame.”

Connor twisted her fingers in Clay’s hair, tugging gently. “She tried to hit me with a hammer.”

Clay’s long stride faltered. “Who?”

“I saw her in the pecan orchard, just at the woods. She was wearing a wedding dress, exactly like mine, only black. She dropped a rose. I found it when I saw Richard. He saw me pick it up, he can prove she was there.” Connor knew she was talking too fast and incoherently, but she sensed that Clay wouldn’t believe her. It was happening again. Someone had attacked her, and no one wanted to believe it.

“Richard left with your friend Elvie shortly after you went in with Amanda and Carol.” Clay’s voice was perfectly reasonable. “It’s really important that people see us as happy and healthy.” He took her into the library and closed the door. “Connor, look at me.” Easing her into his chair, he kissed her forehead very gently. “A fall is a misfortune, but if you tell people some maniac tried to kill you with a hammer on your wedding day, it’s going to make people wonder about us.”

“I don’t care what people think, I was attacked …”

“But I do care.” Worry had settled into the lines around Clay’s mouth and eyes. “Harlan went to get his bag. A couple of stitches and you’ll be fine.”

“I’m not making it up.” Connor grabbed Clay’s sleeve.

“That garden room has been nothing but trouble. First Renata in the pool, now this. I’ll see that it’s completely dismantled.” He took her hand that gripped his jacket, released the fingers, and kissed them one by one. “I won’t have this happening to you. I won’t have the woman I love tormented like this.”

Connor started to speak, but Willene bustled into the room. “What’s happened here?” She took one look at Connor. “Sweet Jesus in the burning bush! What happened, child?” She hurried over. “Sally! Sally, girl! Get me some warm water and a clean cloth. If this blood dries in her hair, it’ll be hard to get out.”

Clay stepped back, allowing Willene to clean the wound, followed by Harlan. In a few seconds Harlan had injected her with novocaine and started on the stitches. Connor made no effort to resist.

“I’d better check on Renata and Danny. I’ll be back in a minute.” Clay glanced at his watch.

“She’ll be fine, Clay, go on and see about those kids. Willene, could you get Connor something to drink, and give us a few minutes to talk?” Harlan asked.

He tied off the last stitch as Willene closed the door. “You’ll live, this time, Connor. You’d better get used to cuts and bruises. Clay’s women seem to attract a lot of abuse.”

Connor slapped his hand away from her head. “You’re pretty damn good with the warnings and threats. Well, try this one on for size: stay out of Clay’s business and mine. We’re married now, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“Or?” Harlan was openly amused.

“Or you’ll discover that I’m a different kettle of fish from Tallulah Bienville Sumner.”

Harlan didn’t smile. “I’ve always known that, Connor. I tried to warn you. I really did. I did everything in my power to prevent this wedding. It’s going to be the end of Clay’s political career, and I don’t want to think what’s going to happen to you. Now I wash my hands of it.” He snapped his medical bag shut. “Any opposition you’ve had from me in the past is over.”

Connor swallowed. She liked Harlan much better when he was being aggressively nasty. Now he was really frightening her.

“If you need anything, call me,” Harlan said, as he left the room without a backward glance.

Connor eased to her feet. For a moment she was unsteady, but she regained her equilibrium. The sound of the music from the gardens drifted faintly to her. The wedding guests, many of them unaware of her injury, were still eating and drinking and talking. Clay would have his hands full trying to encourage them to leave so early. Now would be a good time to revisit the scene of the crime, before anyone had a chance to meddle. There was a burning question in her mind: how had the woman in the black wedding dress gotten out of the garden room unnoticed when the house was full of guests?

The library door opened on an empty hallway. Connor eased down it, moving as if she were a thief. Her heart was pounding when she made her way to the door of the garden room.

She twisted the knob and stepped inside. The broken glass from the mirror was all over the floor. There was a small spot of blood. A tiny, niggling idea was beginning to take shape in her head. It was more than possible that Harlan had “hired” a woman to wear a black wedding dress. That he might have gone so far as to have that woman stage a terrifying attack. With Harlan’s help, the intruder could have slipped in and out of Oaklawn at will. In all the events of the past, Harlan had been handy enough, and she didn’t trust him at all. Maybe, just maybe, she’d finally unraveled the source of her troubles.

“Where are you?” Connor whispered, knowing that the woman who’d attacked her had fled long before. “How do you get in here and escape without anyone seeing you? Who put you up to this?”

“She hates you.”

Connor whirled, almost losing her balance in her fright. Renata slowly closed the door behind her.

“She hates you as much as I do. You’ll never be happy with Daddy. She said so.”

Renata was holding a piece of ragged paper in one hand. Connor was torn between wanting to slap the child silly and simply ignore her. “Why does she hate me?” she asked instead. Renata’s arrival cinched her suspicions of Harlan. The two of them both wanted her gone. In fact, they were the only ones who seemed to resent her.

Renata tapped the paper in her hand. “You don’t deserve to be happy. She said you couldn’t come here and take things that weren’t yours.” She smiled. “She said you were stupid not to pay attention to the past.”

“Well, you can tell her for me that I’ll see her in Hell before I leave Clay or Oaklawn.” Connor stepped toward Renata. “And I’d be careful if I were you, Renata. She tried to hurt you once. She’ll do it again. Just as she tried to hurt me.”

“She loves me.” Renata didn’t move, but her pupils dilated. “She won’t let anything bad happen to me.”

“I don’t know who she is or what she wants,” Connor said, walking all the way to Renata until they were only inches apart. “But I will find out. And she
will
leave here. I can promise you that. I love your father, and I won’t be driven away.” Connor caught the little girl’s chin and forced her to look up. “I think even your Uncle Harlan has come to terms with that.”

“You’d better take your horses and leave, or something terrible is going to happen.”

At the mention of the horses, Connor felt dread knot her stomach. Then she remembered the detente she’d reached with Harlan. “What’s in your hand?” She reached out and took the paper before Renata could object. It was the torn photograph that had been in Willene’s room.

‘Where did you get this?” Connor asked.

“In the trash in the kitchen. Willene had thrown it away. She said I could have it if I wanted it.”

Connor looked at the image again. Willene was so young and happy. The hand on her shoulder sported a ring.

“Give it to me,” Renata said, reaching up for it.

“Wait a minute.” Connor looked at the ring more closely. She knew it. It was the same design as the ring her mother had always worn. In fact, Molly Tremaine had been buried with the ring on her hand.

“Willene gave it to me.” Renata’s fingers closed around the photo and she tugged gently.

Connor relinquished it. She’d have to ask Willene about the ring at a later date. “Tell your friend for me that I’m ready for her now,” Connor said softly. “Tell her, too, that I’ll do whatever it takes to win.”

Renata’s solemn brown gaze lingered for a moment on Connor, then she walked out the door and away.

Connor left the garden room. Her wedding guests were still on the lawn. Amanda Frost and Carol, the interior decorator, had probably made the rounds with the gossip about her clumsy fall. Now it was up to her to get out there and demonstrate she was made of stern enough stuff to withstand a few bumps and stitches.

“Clay,” she called brightly, as she hurried out into the patio, where a cluster of men and women were talking to Clay and Danny. “I’m perfectly fine now. Harlan took care of everything.” She smiled at the group, realizing that she’d just demonstrated her first political prowess. Maybe it wasn’t going to be as bad as she thought.

In the two weeks after the wedding, life slipped into an easy pattern for Connor. The children returned to school, arriving at Oaklawn only in time for their riding lessons, dinner, and homework. She had all day to tend to her horses and her chores, and whenever Elvie had a free afternoon, she came over to ride or help Connor hunt for horses. It was a delight to Connor that Richard was calling Elvie. Cupid had struck, and the arrow was firmly lodged. Elvie was beside herself with plans to visit Hollywood as soon as Richard finished some location work.

After work each evening, Clay drove to Oaklawn. If there was time, he rode with the children and Connor. When dinner was over, the children went upstairs to complete their lessons, and Clay and Connor spent long hours talking and touching.

Connor now shared the enormous downstairs bedroom with Clay. The room danced with light from the full-length mirrors beside the bed. To Connor’s delight, a gentle breeze would sometimes blow the sheer curtains across them as they made love in the big fourposter bed.

The instant decision Clay had made on the day of the wedding to completely scrap the garden room was still in force. The space was to be renovated into a private sitting and dressing room for Connor, with a door adjoining the bedroom added.

Fourteen days passed without a sign of the woman in the woods. Though Connor haunted the garden room and the pecan orchard in her spare time, she found no sign of anyone. Her idea that Harlan had been behind the “scare tactics” gained credence, even though she never spoke of it to Clay. There was enough animosity between the brothers. The more time she spent with Clay, the more she could see the competition and rivalry that had kept the two brothers at odds. It was really neither’s fault. It all stemmed from the tremendous pressures they’d both been put under by their parents. Harlan was a bully, but he’d been shaped that way by manipulative parents.