Engaging the Boss (Heirs of Damon) (15 page)

He
wasn’t sure how or why everything had fallen apart so quickly, but he was
having trouble keeping up with it.

He’d
been wrong to lie to his family. He knew that, although it had initially seemed
like a reasonable plan.

But
he’d just started to feel at home with them, feel like they were people who
might like him, even when he hadn’t accomplished enough. He’d actually been
thinking, on his way back to the house from the garden with Sarah, that he
should probably tell them the truth and accept the consequences to his lab.

It
was a moot point now. He’d been a fool. His uncle was never going to love him.
He would never do anything good enough for that.

Sarah
was downstairs with the others, giving Harrison and Marietta their sendoff of
flung birdseed and happy cheers. He could hear them, but he couldn’t join them.

When
Harrison discovered the truth, he would react exactly like their uncle.

Jonathan
had managed to go back and get the rest of his shirts from the closet and was
starting to fold them haphazardly in the suitcase when Sarah entered the room.

She
stared at him for a minute, obviously processing what he was doing. “You’re not
even going to talk to them?” she asked at last.

He
shook his head in a slight gesture, since it seemed rude not to respond at all,
and kept folding his shirts.

“Jonathan,”
Sarah said softly. She came over to sit on the edge of the bed, idly pulling
out the pins and shaking her hair loose. “He was angry and surprised. But, if
you talk, you can probably work things out. Just explain what really happened.”

“He
knows what really happened,” Jonathan managed to say, even though his throat
hurt as if from disuse. “He’s not going to change his mind.” When she looked
like she was going to argue, he continued, “I know him better than you do.”

“But
what about the others? Harrison and Andrew and Marietta and Laurel? They’ve
been nothing but nice to us, and to leave without a word to them…”

“You’re
welcome to talk to them,” he said, not looking at her because her big anxious
eyes and wobbling mouth bothered him so much.

She
didn’t respond immediately. Just sat and looked at him as he folded shirts.
Then finally, “I thought you were starting to like them.”

He
had
been starting to like them. “I’m going to leave tonight.”

“I
don’t really think you have to. He hasn’t asked you to leave and, I think if
you talk and explain everything to him, he might understand.”

“You
don’t know him like I do.”

She
paused again, as if she were thinking deeply or else working up the nerve to
say what she wanted to say. “I don’t think you know him as well as you think.”

He
was angry then—not as much at her as at the fact that she believed her words
were true. “Less than a year ago, he didn’t talk to Harrison for two months
because he disapproved of his relationship with Marietta. You think he’ll be
more accepting of the fact that I lied to him and tried to trick him into
funding the lab?”

“Maybe
not,” she admitted, ducking her head and hiding her face behind the curtain of
her hair.  “But I don’t think I was totally wrong about him. When I talked
to him, he really wanted to get closer to you. I wasn’t wrong about that. He
loves you, you know.”

Jonathan
shook her head, staring down at his folded clothes in the suitcase. “I
understand why you want to believe that. Your family loves you, and so you
can’t imagine a world in which they didn’t. My family just isn’t like that.”

He
cleared his throat. “I’m leaving tonight, but you don’t have to come with me.
You’re welcome to stay. No one is angry at you.”

Sarah
made a choked sound. “Of course I’m coming with you. What do you think— Surely
you know I’m on
your
side in this.”

He
let out a short breath and closed his suitcase.

Sarah
stood up and grabbed his arm. “You know that, right?”

He
managed to grit out, “Thanks.” It felt like there was a clamp around his chest,
like it was suffocating him. He just wanted to breathe normally but couldn’t
seem to do so. “We can stay in London tonight and fly out tomorrow, if that’s
okay.”

She
nodded. “I can get packed quickly. I might say goodbye to everyone, if that’s
okay with you. They were nice to me. I…I liked them.”

Her
voice broke on the penultimate word, and Jonathan shot her an instinctive look
of concern. Her face twisted briefly, but she smiled at him. “If you want to
leave sooner, you could throw my stuff in the bags, and I’ll run down now and
say goodbye.”

He
told her this was fine and went to the closet to get her largest suitcase. He
tried to pack her stuff as neatly as he could, but it all looked so pretty and
delicate he wasn’t sure he did a good job. It felt strange—intimate—to pack her
underwear and stockings. A few minutes later, a footman arrived to help him
haul the bags to the car.

They’d
loaded the car when he came back into the hallway. He heard familiar voices in
the parlor, so he automatically paused to listen.

“Why
did he give me a note?” Sarah said. He couldn’t see her but he could hear her
voice clearly.

She
must be talking to Gordon because the butler replied, “I’m afraid I can’t
answer that, miss.”

“Does
Mr. Damon know we’re leaving?”

“Yes,
miss.”

“And
he’s really not going to come out to talk to Jonathan?” Sarah’s voice held a
surprised hurt that made Jonathan’s chest ache even more.

He’d
known what to expect. And she hadn’t.

“I’m
afraid I can’t say, miss,” Gordon replied, as perfectly discreet as ever.
“Perhaps you might read the note for more explanation.”

There
was a pause, during which Sarah must have read the note. Jonathan knew he
shouldn’t be eavesdropping, but he felt awkward about showing himself, since
they were talking about him.

“He
says he greatly enjoyed meeting me and I’m welcome at the manor anytime. He is
sorry it ended the way it did. He doesn’t say anything about Jonathan. Should I
go try to talk to him, do you think?”

“I
wouldn’t advise that, miss. He isn’t entertaining company this evening.”

“I
don’t understand. Jonathan is his nephew. If they would just talk, I’m sure
they could work it out. I thought he—” She stumbled over her words, sounding
like she was swallowing over tears. “He’s intimidating, but I really did like
him.”

There
was silence from the parlor for several long seconds. Then Gordon finally said,
“My family had a dog when I was a boy.”

“Oh.”
Sarah sounded confused, off-stride. She wouldn’t know Gordon’s absolute loyalty
to Cyrus Damon. He would never dream of saying a word against his employer or
speaking inappropriately on private family matters. “Did you?”

“He
was an ornery creature and barked relentlessly at anyone who came close to the
house.”

“One
of our dogs was like that.” Sarah still sounded like she wasn’t sure of the
point of this conversation, but she would never be rude or show disinterest in
someone else.

“I
was very young, and I was terrified of that dog. The barking was so loud, and
he would snarl and show his teeth. I was sure he would attack and hurt me.”

“Did
he ever bite you?”

“No.
My mother kept telling me that he only barked that way because he was trying to
protect the family, and he didn’t really know how to behave around people. She
said I needed to trust the dog, get close enough so I could pet him—and then
he’d be my best friend.”

“And
did you?” Sarah sounded breathless now, as if she’d figured out the point of
Gordon’s story at the same time that Jonathan did as he listened.

“Yes.
That dog was my best friend for eleven years.”

Jonathan
walked away, back outside where the car was waiting. And Sarah came out a few
minutes later with Andrew.

Andrew
wasn’t smiling—which was so uncharacteristic of the man that it caused a stab
of guilt to slice through him. He and Andrew had never been close, but he still
felt like an ass for lying to him.

“Sarah
explained what happened,” Andrew said as they approached. “We understand. I
called Harrison too. It’s his wedding night, so he’s a little distracted, but
he’s not angry either.” He glanced back at the looming, dignified Georgian
mansion behind them. “Lord Uncle will get over it. He always does.” He extended
a hand to Jonathan. “Keep in touch. I mean it. You and Sarah should come visit
me and Laurel at the inn. Santorini would be like heaven after Iceland.”

Jonathan
shook the hand Andrew offered. “Thanks.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, since
so much had been packed into his cousin’s words. But he was glad Harrison and
Andrew at least weren’t resentful of the lies they’d told.

Sarah
didn’t look surprised or flustered at Andrew’s assumption that they’d be
vacationing together, even though he knew they weren’t really engaged. She
kissed Andrew on the cheek, and then she and Jonathan got in the back of the
chauffeured car.

They
drove in mostly silence to London. It was late, and Sarah was tired. She leaned
against him in the backseat and seemed to doze off after a half-hour or so.

They
checked into a hotel and, because Jonathan wasn’t thinking, he just got a room
with a king-sized bed. Sarah didn’t seem surprised though. She just put down
her bag and pulled her phone out of her purse. Glancing at her watch, she said,
“I might call my parents, if that’s all right.”

He
wasn’t sure why she was checking with him. She could do anything she wanted.
“Of course.”

She
went out to the balcony to make her phone call in privacy, and Jonathan took a
shower and got into bed, since he felt absolutely battered.

Sarah
came back in after about a half-hour. Jonathan had never talked to a member of
his family on the phone for that long in his life. He wondered what she’d told
them—about him, about all of this. He didn’t ask her, of course.

“I’m
going to take a shower too,” she said. “I feel kind of ick.”

Jonathan
could hardly believe they’d made love in the garden. Only a few hours ago. He
left the light on beside Sarah’s side of the bed but turned off the rest of
them in the room. He lay in the dim room until she came out, wearing a little
shorts and tank pajama set.

She
turned off the light and crawled into bed beside him. He was on his side,
facing away from her, but he could feel her eyes on him in the dark.

“Are
you okay?” she asked at last.

He
grunted, which was all the answer he could articulate.

She
rolled over closer to him. He could feel the bed shift. “Did you want to talk
about it?”

He
did want to talk about it, but he couldn’t. That would mean he’d have to say
out loud that he’d failed, that he hadn’t lived up, that nothing he’d ever done
had been good enough.

“It’s
too hard a world,” she said, very softly.

He
didn’t know what she was talking about, and he wanted to know. So he managed to
grunt, “What?”

“It’s
too hard a world to live in. The one where you always have to earn your place.”

He
took a couple of shaky breaths. He suspected Sarah was still staring at his
back, and this suspicion was confirmed when he felt her scoot even closer to
him. Then her arms wrapped around him and she was spooning him from behind.

“I
don’t want to live in that world,” she murmured, just behind his shoulder.

He
had to say something then. To tell her. To make sure she knew. To say the truth
out loud. “Neither do I.”

He
heard her release a thick breath. “Then we won’t.”

She
didn’t say anything else, but he could feel care and sympathy he could feel in
her arms, in her hands, in her soft little body behind his.

He
didn’t sleep, and neither did she. Her hands would sometimes stroke his chest,
his belly. After a long time, he found he could breathe naturally again. He
took long inhales and exhales, and his body started to relax.

She
kept caressing his chest, her fingers skimming over the hair, the nipples, the
flat planes of his abdomen.

As
he relaxed, he became more and more conscious of her body behind him, pressed
into his. Her breasts, her hair, her legs, her quiet breathing.

His
chest still ached, but his body started to react to her embrace. When her hand
trailed down to his stomach, he hardened even more.

He
didn’t move, didn’t say anything. She was trying to comfort him. She wasn’t
coming onto him. Arousal was an inappropriate response to her care and concern.

But
he couldn’t hide it forever. Her stroking hand eventually found his erection.
She caressed it gently, the same way she’d been caressing his chest and
stomach. His pelvis bucked slightly into her hand, but he resisted the impulse
to do any more.