The Feud, page 19
When she’s settled back on the patio with me, Renault lapping at his water, I ask Sylvie, “Did you do all of his training?”
She nods. “Esteban helped teach me, but yes… I’m the one who worked with him. He’s very good inside, so can he stay inside with us? Can he stay in my room?”
“Of course,” I reply, actually not having even considered that far. We’ve had dogs on the farm before but never one in the house as a pet. “Does that mean he will want to get on the furniture?”
Sylvie looks scandalized. “He only is allowed on my bed. Like your house, our chateau had very old, very expensive furniture, so he wasn’t permitted. He won’t be a bother.”
“I expect he won’t,” I say, my eyes drifting over to the dog who now has his chin resting on his front paws, eyes pinned to Sylvie in complete adoration.
“If the Mardraggons and the Blackburns hate each other, why did you and my mom have sex?”
I suck in air so hard I choke. Sylvie merely watches me with eyes that match mine. I cough and shake my head. “I’m not really sure you should—”
“Were you drunk?” she asks. “Because that’s the only reason I can understand.”
“Jesus,” I mutter in defeat, scraping my fingers through my hair. “Yeah… both of us were drunk.”
“My mother told me about you before she died.” Her tone is somber and I forget about the embarrassing sex question. “It was the last conversation we had before she… well, you know.”
Throat dry, I manage to ask, “What did she say?”
“That you were my father and that she wanted me to live with you. That the families hated each other but that she trusted you to raise me right. I don’t know what that means. I don’t know what any of this means because no one will tell me the truth of why everyone hates each other.”
The father in me doesn’t want to burden her with any of this, but I recognize the need for knowledge so she has some semblance of control. So, I tell her the story of Elizabeth Blackburn and Henry Mardraggon, of their ill-fated love and untimely deaths, and the blame that went along with it. I don’t dive deep into details but skim over the decades when the families continued to battle, each trying to ruin the other.
“In these modern times, there isn’t much the Blackburns could do to the Mardraggons and vice versa. Both families are too rich and powerful, so we just quietly hate and try to avoid each other.”
“Until you and my mom,” she says.
“Until me and your mom,” I agree. “You know I didn’t know about you, right? If I had, things would’ve been different.”
Sylvie nods. “I don’t think you would have let me stay in France with my mom.”
“Not true,” I rush to assure her. “I would have let you stay, but I would have visited you and had you come here to visit. But I want to be the best parent I can. I want to be as good as your mom was for you.”
She nods again, as if she expected nothing different from me. “Lionel and Rosemund would never tell me why I should hate you. Only that I should. They would say things like the Blackburns are liars and cheats and they will only try to use me and hurt me. I believed them too.”
“I expect you would since they were the closest thing to your mom you had,” I muse.
“Uncle Gabe never did, though. He just didn’t talk about you at all.”
Interesting. “They would like to spend time with you,” I tell her. Her eyes, locked on Renault, come to me. “They’ve each asked me individually, most recently your uncle Gabe. My first inclination was to say no because of the poison they were trying to feed you about my family. But you’re a smart girl and I trust you to make your own judgments, so if you want to see them, I’ll let you spend one night a week over there. Is that something you’d like?”
I wasn’t sure what her reaction would be but I’m not prepared for the long pause while she considers the option. Eventually, though, she nods. “I like spending time with Uncle Gabe. But they won’t let me bring Renault. Can you watch him when I go there?”
“Be glad to,” I reply easily, my gut churning slightly that I’ve just given my daughter permission to go into enemy territory. But I remind myself that she won’t fall prey to their poison because she’s seen things in a different light since being here. And she doesn’t seem to care all that much for Rosemund and Lionel. I might be a little jealous that she has a bond with Gabe, but I can’t deny her access to someone who was close to her mother.
Yeah… this is a good decision.
“There’s something else I need to talk to you about,” I say, unsure if I should bring this up today, but it seems like the right time. Sylvie looks at me, head tilted with intrigue. “Um… this is weird to say, and I’m not sure how to go about it—”
“You should just say it,” she suggests, and I love that my kid is blunt like I am.
I take her recommendation. “I’m dating Ms. DeLeon.”
Sylvie blinks, then blinks again. “My school principal.”
“Yes.” I wait to see her reaction. Everything has gone so well up until this point, admittedly buttered up by a surprise dog, but Sylvie has a relationship with Marcie that she might consider proprietary.
It’s a bland response I get though. “And?”
“And… well, I wanted to make sure you’re okay with that.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?” she tosses back and I can hear the eye roll in her tone. “Ms. DeLeon is really nice. I like her.”
I didn’t realize how important that answer was until the breath rushes out of me. “I’m just making sure. You’re my priority. That means you come first in all decisions.”
Sylvie’s expression softens, but she looks a bit bewildered. “Because you’re my dad and you have to be that way.”
“Yes, but also because I love you more than anything on this earth, so you will always be first.”
And the response I thought I’d get with Renault but didn’t—tears—well in her eyes. “Maman used to say that to me,” she whispers, and the tears fall free, slipping down her cheeks in silver streams.
I push up out of my chair, move to Sylvie and take her by the hand. I tug her up and then bend to lift her in my arms. Her legs wrap around my waist, her head presses into my shoulder and she puts me in a stranglehold as she cries.
I hold my daughter, rocking back and forth. I look up to see Miranda at the kitchen window and she gives me a sweet smile before melting backward to give us privacy.
It seems like hours but it’s only minutes that we stand like that. Eventually, Sylvie’s tears dry but she doesn’t make any effort to be put down and I’m not in any hurry to release her from the hug. I’m quite content to stay here the rest of the day, work be damned.
CHAPTER 20
Marcie
There is nothing awkward about working shoulder to shoulder with Ethan in his kitchen. We’re making dinner and are the only ones in the big house. Miranda organized the ingredients for us to make fajitas and Spanish rice, a sweet surprise when I arrived as I’d mentioned earlier this week that it’s my favorite meal.
Ethan’s preparing the rice to put on the stove and I’m slicing onions and peppers. The chicken is washed and patted dry, ready for the knife.
I glance over at Renault, lying near the back door, his head on his paws. Every once in a while, he chuffs or lets out a low whine. I think he misses Sylvie, who’s having an overnight stay with the Mardraggons.
“How are you feeling about Sylvie’s overnight?” I ask as I cut the top off a yellow pepper.
Ethan clicks on the gas burner and sets the pot on the flame. “I hate it but I think it’s necessary.”
“That’s an interesting word.” I turn to face him. “You didn’t say you thought it was good for Sylvie.”
He lifts a shoulder and walks to my side, snagging a strip of red pepper I’d already cut and taking a bite. “I have no clue if it will be good for her. On the one hand, they’re the closest thing she has to her mother, especially Gabe who, from what I can glean, was pretty close to Alaine and Sylvie. But Rosemund and Lionel… I don’t think she gets anything from them. It’s just weird.”
“Not all grandparents are cut from the same cloth,” I murmur, turning back to my work. I’ve observed Fi and Tommy Blackburn this past week and they were born to be grandparents. They treat Sylvie with utter kindness and respect, and she gives it back in equal measure. There’s no doubt they’re smitten with her and I can see their bond growing.
“When I dropped her off, Rosemund was just waiting at the door, hands clasped before her. She looked… imperious and so unwelcoming. Of course, most of that was directed at me since I walked Sylvie to the door. All she said was ‘Hello, Sylvie,’ and Sylvie politely said, ‘Hello, Rosemund.’ I know that’s the way it’s always been with that family, but damn… it’s so cold.”
“I find it fascinating that Alaine and Gabe don’t have that same coolness. I wonder where they unlearned that behavior?”
“Alaine most likely because she lived in another country. Gabe? Not sure. I still think he’s an asshole,” he says. I can’t help but laugh and Ethan winks at me. “I will admit with great pleasure though, I got immense satisfaction when Sylvie gave me a big hug before I left. Rosemund looked like someone had rubbed shit under her nose as she watched us.”
I snort-laugh and shake my head. “You’re so bad.”
But he’s really not. I love that Ethan is gaining every ounce of pleasure from fatherhood. He told me about Sylvie’s hug after he told her he loved her. Just as he’s proudly told me every other milestone in their relationship from this past week. Since our first kiss five days ago, we’ve seen each other every day. I’ve been to his house for dinner twice, once with his entire family and once with just Sylvie, after which we played board games until it was way past Sylvie’s bedtime on a school night. But we were having so much fun, I could tell Ethan didn’t want to stop.
I came out to the farm one day for lunch and we had a quick sandwich and chips as he drove me around the vast acreage for the grand tour. My favorite was visiting the yearlings who are like big puppies all vying for attention and scratches.
Last night, he took me out for a very nice dinner at the same steakhouse where we ate at the bar. Except this time, we sat at a romantic table with candlelight and talked for over two hours as we stretched the meal.
And every night has ended with kisses that turn increasingly fiery and needful, but always end when Ethan breaks the kiss. It’s both frustrating and exhilarating as we both know it’s only a matter of time before we take things all the way.
Tonight might even be that night.
The best part of this week though, is despite us parting ways at the end of each evening, Ethan always calls me before he drifts off to sleep. We spend five to ten minutes, both of us lying in our beds, talking about what’s ahead for the next day. Every night, I go to sleep with a smile on my face.
I think cooking dinner together in his home might actually be the perfect date. Intimate, quiet, casual. Just the two of us… alone. The first time since we’ve started seeing each other that Sylvie isn’t here.
Very alone.
“… PTA meeting Monday?”
I jolt, realizing that Ethan’s talking and I have no idea what he’s just said. “Um, sorry, what?”
He leans over, kisses the top of my head. A sweet, affectionate move that shouldn’t make my blood race the way it does. “I said, you have that PTA meeting on Monday. Are you worried about it?”
“Not really. I mean… my hands are tied by the superintendent, but I expect it’s going to be a free-for-all. There are a lot of divided feelings.”
He’s talking about a meeting called by the Parent Teacher Association to discuss a list of books that some of the parents want to ban. There will be members from the county board of education in attendance and I expect it will get heated. Yours truly will moderate and it’s going to suck because I cannot take a position, even though I’m firmly against book banning.
“I got your back,” he says, and that means more to me than it should. Ethan shouldn’t have to take my side, but rather do what he believes in for Sylvie’s sake. We’ve talked at length about it and he’s against the ban too, and in fact, he went and bought every book on the list for his daughter.
But it’s what makes walking the ethical edge of this knife we’re on a little precarious. There’s no direct conflict with me dating a parent. I checked. But Ethan and I decided it’s best that we don’t flaunt the relationship in any way.
“Speaking of having your back, I assume Abby and Kellen are still arriving tomorrow?”
Ethan chuckles. “Yeah, they’ll be in by dinnertime.”
Abby is Ethan’s younger sister and Kat’s identical twin. She’s a small animal veterinarian in Pittsburgh and her husband, Kellen, is a private security expert and former U.S. Marine. While much of it is water under the bridge, Ethan and Kellen had quite the rocky start when he first started dating Abby. I was thoroughly entertained by the dramatic story of how Abby tried to take down a crooked puppy mill owner by stealing dogs, getting shot at and ultimately almost killed in a barn fire set by the man. Kellen was there to protect her through it all but Ethan has a bit of a grudge against him for letting his sister get involved in the first place. Apparently, Kellen didn’t like Ethan’s judgment and overbearing protectiveness. I’m prepared, based on what Ethan’s told me, for the two men to snipe at each other—although probably in more of a teasing way—and hence why I have his back.
But truly, Abby is here to meet Sylvie and I expect it’s going to be an all-around fun time. I was thrilled that it wasn’t just Ethan who invited me to the family dinner tomorrow but Sylvie, who was most adamant she wanted me present. I think because I was the little girl’s first trusted confidante and the one who placed myself solidly in her corner at the start. Our bond was instantly formed and solidified by the relationship I’ve developed with her father, who she also now sees as a trustworthy advocate.
Finishing the last pepper, I wipe my hands on a towel before pulling the large white onion toward me. I take a deep breath of fortification and say, “I hope you don’t mind women who cry.” Ethan stares down at me in question. I hold up the onion. “Gets me every time.”
He smiles and takes the onion from my hand, setting it on the counter far away from me. He takes the knife away as well. I assume he means to cut the onion, but he merely puts the utensil down before turning to face me fully.
The glint in his eye prickles my skin. Stepping into me, his hands come to rest on my shoulders. “It occurs to me that I haven’t gotten a kiss from you yet. You walked right in and started flitting about the kitchen.”
I lift my chin. “I don’t flit.”
His laugh is soft and rumbling as his eyes roam over my face. “No, I don’t suppose you do.”
Dipping his head, Ethan glides his lips over mine. Just a soft touch but I feel it all the way to my toes as he whispers, “How hungry are you?”
“I had a late lunch,” I murmur back.
I feel his smile against my mouth just before he deepens the kiss. I melt into it without any will of my own. Ethan’s hands drop down my arms, his thumbs grazing the sides of my breasts while his tongue tangles with mine. My head falls back and then his mouth is on my neck, trailing teeth and lips along my sensitive skin.
My breath clogs in my throat as he pulls my shirt up and over my head so quickly, I can’t even process what’s going on. The cool air hits my skin, pebbles my nipples in my bra.
Ethan leans back slightly, looks between our bodies and slides a finger down the center of my chest to tap against the front clasp. “I wonder what would happen if I popped this open,” he muses softly, eyes pinned on my breasts held in place by the black satin. He poses the question to himself, not me, and I wait breathlessly to see what he does.
Green eyes lift to meet mine. There’s no request for permission but rather a statement that he’s going to take what he wants, and God help me… that’s so damn sexy I can barely think. Without looking back down again, Ethan expertly flicks open the front clasp of my bra. My breasts spill free and yet Ethan keeps his eyes on mine.
Finally, he looks down and apparently he likes what he sees because his growl rumbles so hard that I feel it in my chest.
Large, warm, calloused hands test the weight of my flesh. Thumbs drag across nipples, leaving me weak… dizzy.
“Love the way you feel in my hands,” he says, words harsh and guttural. “I’m thinking they’ll feel better in my mouth.”
A tremor racks my body, not from his touch but from his words.
I’ve never heard those words before and they’re as pleasure-inducing as the chaos his fingers create.
I go to my tiptoes, put my mouth against his and fall into a kiss that is so consuming, every bit of my control is swept away. Ethan continues to stroke, glide and squeeze while my world spins crazier with lust and passion.
He’s seducing me with very little effort and I’ve completely surrendered.
A flash of reason seeps into my fogged brain and I realize… I need to feel him. I want to touch his skin, feel the muscles underneath, understand the strength that is there. I tug at his T-shirt, lifting it just enough for my hands to slide under. So warm and smooth and rippled. I push my hands up to his chest, pressing into the solid muscles honed by hard work and dedication.
I let out a tiny cry of surprise when I find myself lifted, only for my butt to come down on the edge of the counter. I vaguely hear Ethan pushing stuff out of the way and then his mouth is on my breast. My hands grab his head, fingers sliding into his hair, and I grip hard to keep him right where he’s at. I feel his reverberating chuckle before he sucks hard on my nipple.
His mouth is so hot and demanding. Ethan is in total control of my body and I’m not sure there’s anything I wouldn’t do if he asked. I get the sense he doesn’t want me to offer but wants to take. Maybe even destroy me.
