The Gilded Cuff (13 page)

“Thank you,” she finally said.

Emery lifted his head and removed his hand from between her thighs.

“I don’t think anyone has ever had that reaction to me giving them an orgasm before.”

A telltale heat crept across her cheeks. “You’re not upset, are you?”

“Upset for you thanking me? No. Just curious. Why the gratitude?” He helped right her clothes and urged her to sit up. A shiver rocked her, and he wrapped the picnic blanket around her shoulders. “Only the truth, remember?”

“I’ve never…” She gulped and ducked her head, dropping her forehead onto his shoulder, foolishly hoping to hide from him. “I’ve never had a climax like that before.”

Emery moved fast, sliding her into his lap. He wrapped his fingers around her ponytail and tugged, forcing her head back. His lips brushed hers, and then he pressed his forehead to hers, eyes closed.

“You’re killing me, Sophie.”

“What?” she whispered.

“You are so sweet. It’s killing me. I want so much to—” His words were cut off and she would never get to hear what he meant to say because he lifted his head and sniffed the air.

“Do you smell that?” he hissed and surged to his feet.

Sophie inhaled, and the heavy, acrid scent stung her nose. “Smoke!” She jumped up and promptly stumbled as her legs gave out. Apparently mind-blowing orgasms were not good if she had to run anywhere quickly.

Emery spun, his eyes darting around the grounds, looking for the source of the smell. The curling tail of smoke rising in the sky in the distance told them where the fire was.

“It’s the stables.” He grabbed her hand and they started running. “We’ve gotta get the horses out!”

The stables were about a quarter of a mile away from the back of the house. Legs pumping, Sophie managed to keep up with Emery’s long-legged sprint through the back gardens and across the lawn. When they finally reached the stables, the waves of heat from the fire almost kept them from getting closer. The wood-paneled building had easily contained a hundred horses at a time in the past. But now the building was mostly empty, Sophie guessed.

“There.” Emery pointed to the left side of the stables, where a fire was blazing in a room next to the stalls.

Through the orange inferno and the dark smoke, they could see flames devouring hundreds of golden trophies and shiny blue silk ribbons hung along the far wall of one room where a door had been left open. All evidence of the glorious equestrian history of the Lockwood family was turning to ash. Before she could fully absorb the tragedy of that loss, something exploded in the room and the fire rushed outward. Emery spun and tackled her to the ground, and the air was knocked from both their lungs as an explosion rocked them.

Horses started screaming.

Sophie shoved at Emery, pushing him off her as the flames retreated momentarily. “Get to the horses. Go!”

“Stay back. I’ll get them out.” Without a backward glance he rushed toward the flames.

She sat there for only an instant, in awe as the red and yellow blaze silhouetted him. In that moment he seemed no mere man but something else. Someone of strength, courage, and compassion. Everything she’d ever wanted to be. Everything she’d ever wanted in a man she hoped to fall in love with someday. Somewhere deep inside, her rational brain screamed at her to get up and go save Emery before he went and got himself killed being noble.

She ran headlong after him, straight into danger. When she ran to the next stall down from where he was and threw open the door, he flashed her an incredulous look before growling about punishments coming her way. He got his horse loose and headed outside while she ran to the next door. When he returned back into the smoke, she went after him.

“There’s two more,” Emery’s shout came through the gloom before horse darted past her and out onto the lawn, free of the fire.

Two more. They could do this. She believed in him, even as her lungs singed inside with the heat of the flames and her eyes burned with smoke.

Just as she and Emery got the fifth and final horse out, the wood around them shuddered, groaned and gave way. She fell to the floor mere feet from the burning stable door. Hands lifted her up and pushed at her backside, hard. She ducked her head just in time, barely missing a collision with a fallen beam, and fell onto soft, cool grass. Emery followed, coughing violently.

They both lay there for a few seconds, clearing the smoke from their lungs, before he wrapped an arm around her waist and dragged her farther away from the burning wreckage. When they were about fifty yards away, he collapsed onto his back, eyes closed, one palm on his chest as he breathed. Sophie recovered a little more quickly and sat up, watching the stable burn.

Flecks of ash floated up around them, caught in the faint breeze and swirling in dizzying circles around the yard like snow from storm clouds. Much farther away, the five horses they’d rescued were watching the fire with nervous eyes. Every one had been saved. Relief flooded her veins, dulling her senses like morphine. Adrenaline left her system and she wanted to curl up in a ball and sleep.

The moment her eyes started to close, she saw a man standing on the other edge of the flames. He wore all black and had a ski-mask over his face. She scrambled to her feet and started running, despite her legs buckling. She lost sight of him when she skirted around the burning stable. He disappeared from view in the thick trees.

“Sophie?” Emery was behind her, one hand settling on her shoulder as he turned her around, face etched with worry lines. “What’s wrong? What are you doing?”

“I thought…I saw someone disappear into the woods.”

Cody and Hans suddenly burst from the house at a full run. Both men were armed. Cody had a Mauser 9mm, but Hans had an AR-15 pistol ready as he ran. Had she not known Hans a little better, from what Emery had told her, she would have been terrified. His gaze was cold and calculating as it swept the stable and the surrounding woods before he checked on her and Emery.

“I smell gasoline.” He commented so quietly she could only just hear his voice over the roaring blaze behind them. “Someone set this fire. I want everyone inside the house.
Now
.”

Emery got to his feet. “It’s a distraction, isn’t it? Set fire to the stables, draw us out.”

Hans gave a curt nod and then paused. “Or they wanted to draw us out, knowing we’d rush back in a few minutes later. Could be a trap. Stay behind me until I figure out what we’re dealing with here.”

They moved as a unit to the back entrance that led to the kitchen. The door was ajar.

Sophie swallowed, her throat sore from the smoke. She bumped into Emery’s back, which made Cody run into hers with a grunt. She rose up on tiptoe to peer over Emery’s shoulder.

A black box with a red bow on top sat on the kitchen counter. It was about the size of a shoe box.

“What’s that?” Cody whispered.

Sophie glanced at him, surprised to find the usual spark of humor in his eyes had faded.

Hans entered first, setting the pistol on the counter with care, flicking the safety on. Then he approached the box, studying it from every angle.

“Doesn’t appear to have any weight sensors. It might have something inside that will be set off with movement.”

“What? Like a bomb?” Cody asked.

With a low growl of warning, Hans pulled out a small device the size of a smartphone and waved them all back. He clicked on the device and moved it over and around the package. A green light flashed and the device beeped.

“No bomb. Must be organic or something nonmetal.” He pocketed the device.

“What was that thing?” Sophie asked Emery.

“A handheld metal detector I created.” He started toward the counter, holding her behind him.

“Emery, I don’t think…” Hans trailed off when Emery ignored him and undid the bow and eased the lid off the box. Whatever was inside made him freeze. Blood drained from his face, leaving him as pale as alabaster.

“My god,” Hans breathed, his eyes wide. Fear shadowed the man’s eyes briefly and that scared Sophie more than anything.

She drew closer, needing to see what had frightened two of the bravest men she’d ever met. Inside the box lay a little boy’s sneaker. It looked old. A puzzle piece snapped into place and she flinched.

“It’s one of Fenn’s, isn’t it?” She already knew the answer, even as Emery’s eyes closed and he sucked in a breath and nodded.

Seeing the reminder of Emery’s twin’s promising life cut short instantly became one of the worst moments in her life after losing Rachel. The shock sunk deep into her bones. The sudden drop, the fall into darkness and uncertainty, then the understanding dawned like a sun over a barren wasteland.

“Someone set the fire so they’d have time to plant this here.” Such a simple plan, yet incredibly effective. It had left the house vulnerable. “Hans, I saw a man when Emery and I got out of the stables. I saw someone in black, wearing a ski mask. He was on the other side of the stables.”

Hans bowed his head a moment as though in thought. “He’s gone by now. He set the trap and laid the bait. The question is now, what does he want us to do? And how can we avoid it?” Hans balled a fist and slammed it down on the counter. “Damn! We played right into his game. He knew how I’d react. He could only know that if he’s been watching us.” Hans turned his attention to Cody. “Check the monitors. Find out if we have any angles on him entering the premises. And find out if we have any bugs in this house. If we have to do a room-by-room sweep, then we will.”

“This is bad,” Cody muttered. “Real bad.” He shifted restlessly.

Only Emery remained still. He held the shoe up, his long elegant fingers tracing the shoe’s designs and stroking the laces.

“He’s baiting me. What does he want me to do?”

No one said anything. All eyes remained fixed on the shoe.

“Should we call the police?” Sophie finally asked.

Emery and Hans both shook their heads and Emery spoke. “No. No police. The more men we allow inside the grounds the more we put ourselves at risk. We need to avoid media attention. Hans, call my parents. Ask if we can send the horses to their stables down the road.”

Hoping to hide how badly her hands were shaking, Sophie shoved them in the pockets of her shorts. “So what do we do now?”

Hans looked at Sophie. “We keep quiet and calm. It’ll force the man to act again to draw us out.”

“You stay here with Hans. Eat and relax. I have some things to see to.” Emery picked up the shoe and strode from the room.

“Wait—”

Hans caught her by the arm, halting her. “Let him go for now. He needs some time to banish his ghosts.”

G
hosts.

Was he always to be haunted?

Emery walked down the long hall leading to the library. This part of the house was modeled like a French chateau, with stone walls covered by large decorative tapestries. Most of them depicted the Hunt of the Unicorn, his mother’s favorite image. The hall was dark enough that the colors in the cloth remained rich. Emery had long ago hated unicorn tapestries. As a boy he’d found them girly, and had rooted for the hunters in the murder of the beautiful beast. But now…

He paused before the scene of the unicorn in captivity. The rich white threads woven in the shape of the mythical beast gleamed in the low light, a glimmer made with a hint of silver thread amid the snow white. The simple wood fence sewn around the beast didn’t seem powerful enough to hold the unicorn. It was a marvel that something so wondrous and beautiful, a creature born of magic and moonlight, could be contained by the mortal-made fence.

He stared at the tapestry for a long moment before realizing what was so captivating about the unicorn. It wasn’t that the creature was trapped, but rather that it allowed itself to be held captive. It surrendered to the destiny of the tale, giving itself over to the hunters. Emery felt something in his chest tighten and his respect for the unicorn grew. It was submissive.
Like Sophie
. He reached out, touching the unicorn’s blue collar, held by a clasp of gold thread that wound around the unicorn’s neck.

Innocence captured. Innocence tamed.

Immortality made mortal.

It reminded him of something his mother used to say whenever she’d find a lone Monarch butterfly trying to migrate during a storm, surviving the rain to keep flying against all odds. She’d hold Emery in her arms, point toward the colored wings and say, “Not all wonders are endless. Some last only for a breath of time, but are no less magnificent than the mountains that have stood for millennia or the seas which shape the shores with their waves.” Then she’d kiss him on his cheek and send him off to play with Fenn.

Emery’s hands clenched at his sides. Fenn’s shoe burned his palm. The sting of that long ago night was returning. The old secrets clawed their way up from their graves, churning the soil with decayed hands, as they were resurrected by old evils. Emery shut his eyes briefly, and then continued walking down the hall into the massive library.

The polished walnut bookshelves hummed with life and light. The room was two stories tall. A circular staircase led to the upper level, where a catwalk allowed access to the higher shelves. Red brocade chairs were angled toward the large fireplace and reading tables were placed throughout the room near the shelves. Two tall French doors allowed light to stream through from one side of the library to the other.

The tension that had coiled tight in Emery’s body eased almost instantly. Books, especially these books, could calm any storm inside him. So many of the novels were old friends that had kept him distracted and entertained when depression would have weighed him down. In the years following the kidnapping, he’d sought solace among their pages.

Setting Fenn’s shoe on the table by the two chairs near the fireplace, he walked to the nearest shelf. His fingers trailed the titles by Robert Louis Stevenson.
Kidnapped, The Black Arrow, Treasure Island.
When his whole life had flipped on its head these stories had kept him breathing. He’d begun to view his kidnapping from a distance, as though it hadn’t happened to him, but instead he’d simply read about it in a book. It was the only way Emery kept moving, kept living. So he’d spun a tale to himself about two princes who’d been taken, and one whose life had ended, one life destroyed. And he’d locked the truth away in his heart, deep in the dark recesses where no light could ever shine.

He wasn’t sure how long he stood staring at the faded spines with the glimmer of the gilded letters of the titles winking back at him in the afternoon sun. He’d reached a road with two paths ahead.

It was time to stop hiding, at least from himself. He had to tell Sophie everything, let her have the story come what may. If he shared it, the burden on his shoulders would have to ease, and maybe, just maybe, he wouldn’t hate seeing his brother’s face in the mirror every day.

The headache struck without warning. He doubled over and the light around him flickered, and that other sense, that distant echo of a ghost soul connected to his, stirred.

A work-calloused palm rubbed a jaw lined with stubble. A heavy sigh. Gotta shave. Jeans hung low on the man’s hips, the black boots a snug fit. Should be fun to ride the new bull tonight for the crowds. Dangerous as hell. A wicked laugh of excitement escaped him. God, he loved rodeos.

And then just as quickly the image sank below the surface of his consciousness. Emery blinked and rubbed his temples as he straightened. For that single instant he’d sworn he was somewhere else, living in a dream amid mountains where he was himself and yet…not.

He had to talk to Sophie before guilt drove him mad, or madder than he was right now. But first, he needed to do something that was long overdue. He dug his cell phone out of his pocket and dialed his mother’s number. He hadn’t just hidden from the world all this time; he’d hidden from his own parents. Shame and guilt had erected a wall between them. How could he face them on a day-to-day basis when he’d left Fenn behind to die?

Miranda Lockwood answered after the first ring, her voice soft and worried.

“Emery? What’s happened? Are you okay?”

Deep breath in, deep breath out. He could do this, talk to her, like he used to as a child. “I’m fine, Mom. I would like you and Dad to come to dinner tonight.”

She laughed lightly, but he could hear the hope mingled with hurt in her tone. “Of course we will. We haven’t seen you in nearly five months.”

Five months? He’d really let it go that long without seeing them? That made his guilt all the stronger, until the emptiness and loneliness was so deep he couldn’t feel the bottom. Like dropping a stone into a dark well…It made no sound, only fell forever into the abyss.

There was a pause as her voice wavered and then she breathed out and spoke again. “What time should we be there?”

“Seven.”

“Seven it is. I can’t wait to see you, Emery,” she whispered, still sounding shaky, and the line disconnected.

His throat tightened and he swallowed several times. Hearing his mother’s voice this time brought more comfort than the agony, but the pain didn’t fade. His need to be protected, to hide from everything he was afraid to lose, had already cost him his own family, what little he had in life. The last twenty-five years of his life had been wasted while he’d closeted himself away in this house. His parents had lost two children that night, not just one, and he’d brought that pain on them, not his kidnappers. The realization left a bitter taste in his mouth.

“Who were you talking to?” Sophie’s voice drifted across the library.

She was standing in the doorway, still wearing her exercise clothes marked with soot from the fire. Her eyes were wide, dark gray, like summer storm clouds with a hint of blue. They were eyes that saw too much, understood too much. He wanted them to see him. He didn’t want to use words if she could see the secrets he needed to set free.

Moved by the need to hold her, he held out a hand. She hesitated, and then walked to him. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she drew his face down to hers to kiss him. Surprised, it took him a moment to react, but then he banded his arms around her lower back to hold her close. She felt so right in his arms, as though some great force had made her for him.

“Who was on the phone?” she asked again when they broke their mouths apart. She rested her hands on his shoulders, the touch light, yet still it made him fight repressed shivers of need for her.

“My mother. I’ve invited my parents to dinner tonight.”

Sophie’s brows winged up over her eyes. “They’re coming here? Tonight?” Her lashes fluttered and she licked her lips.

“I want them to meet you. And I haven’t seen them in several months.”

“Okay.” She rubbed her cheek against his shoulder, still holding him.

Secrets weighed him down, the past a thousand stones in his pockets, pulling him to the bottom of the lake. But if he told her, shared them, he wouldn’t have to keep them alone anymore. He curled his hands around her lower back and lifted her up. Her legs parted, going around his hips as he walked them over to a large couch by one of the windows.

Emery toppled backward, letting her fall on top of him as he sprawled the length of the sofa. He cupped her face. Sunlight wove through the pale gold wisps of hair which had escaped her ponytail. She looked rumpled, wind tussled, alive. The women he’d been with before had never had a hair out of place, never had an ounce of sweat even in the midst of passion. Sophie was different. She lived in her body; she didn’t keep it pale and starved. She was real, and real was what he needed. The time for facades was over.

“I’m going to tell you what happened.”

The heat, which had lit her gray eyes with silver lightning, softened and her smile faded.

“Oh…should we…er…move?” She gestured to their position, where she lay on top of him.

“No. I like you right where you are. You keep me grounded and the nightmares away.”

She relaxed into him and laid her head on his chest just below his chin. Emery curled his arms around her and took a deep breath as he readied himself to plunge into the turmoil of memories.

“Three men came in through the back door leading to the kitchen.”

“The door we came through after the fire today?” she asked.

“Yes. One of the few blind spots for the cameras. Of course, back then we didn’t have cameras.” He rubbed one palm over her lower back, stroking her.

“Tell me everything you can remember. Shut your eyes and picture it. Sometimes that helps.”

He tensed, every muscle in his body instantly freezing. He didn’t want to relive the worst moment of his life, not so vividly. But he knew she was right. She had a point about it being easier to picture. Weren’t his nightmares always so real?

“Okay…but…” he trailed off. What could he really say?
Stop me if I start to panic or shush me if I cry like a child?
No. He wasn’t a child any longer and he couldn’t show such a weakness.

“I’ll be here with you. Every step of the way.” Her hands on his body tightened, the pressure comforting. She would be there, she’d pull him back from the brink of despair.

Letting his lids close was one of the scariest things he did. But he had to. It was time to let the memories out, free them so they wouldn’t weigh him down a moment longer. Twenty-five years was long enough.

He took a breath and began. “I spent the early evening catching fireflies. There were so many of them that summer…”

Light.

Darkness.

Light.

Darkness.

Eight-year-old Emery Lockwood curled his hands around the thick glass jar, gaze fixed on the firefly that buzzed and bumped into the container’s sides. The bottom part of the insect’s body flashed a pale green and then went dark. The pulsing glow brightened then faded, surging back to life before dying again, like a phoenix from the ashes. It was easy to get lost in the rhythmic pattern of the firefly while the house was quiet and his room was dark. The aroma of fresh cut grass from the gardeners’ early work still lingered. The almost tangy scent of it was calming. The bedroom floor was littered with grass clippings from when he’d tracked them in on his shoes after a successful day of bug catching.

He’d spent nearly an hour hunting down the brightest glowing firefly. He grinned.

“Emery!” The whooping shout of his twin brother disturbed the quiet peace of their bedroom.

With a heavy sigh, he pressed his nose against the cool glass of the jar. He wasn’t in any particular hurry to answer his brother’s shout. He’d much rather spend the evening watching his bug glow.

A second shout echoed up the hall, accompanied by the sound of footsteps ricocheting off the wood floor outside the room.

So much for being left alone to enjoy his firefly in peace.

“What?” he hollered back.

Fenn stomped into the room, hands on his hips, golden eyebrows slanted over hazel eyes, a nearly exact mirror to Emery’s.

“Mom says to come down and get your dinner before the guests get here.”

Emery set the jar down and rolled off his bed. “Why didn’t you just bring mine up here?”

On nights when their parents didn’t host parties, the family ate in the dining room, but when their mother and father had guests over, they were allowed to eat up in their room.

“Nana says we have to eat in the kitchen tonight,” Fenn said. “She said we made a mess last time and she doesn’t want to find a trail of ants leading to our room again. You were the one that spilled your Coke, not me.”

Emery punched Fenn’s shoulder. Although younger by three minutes, he couldn’t let his brother boss him around. Fenn always thought he was in charge, and though Emery didn’t mind most of the time, an occasional punch to the shoulder reminded his brother that Fenn was not in charge of him.

Fenn plopped down on Emery’s bed and cradled his chin in his palms. He prodded the firefly jar with an index finger, grinning as the bug’s tail lit up. “So, you coming down or what?”

His brother’s smile was infectious. He had a way about him, and Emery couldn’t help but smile too.

A flicker of movement outside their window caught Emery’s eye. Their room overlooked the thick army of stalwart oaks that bordered the property. Their sheltering darkness was penetrated only with a smattering of glowing, winking lights as fireflies wove through the trees. Emery was certain he had seen something aside from the lazy glow of the Chinese lanterns hanging on strings leading to the gardens.