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“Elizabeth Oliver. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Coleville.” She retrieved her hand and searched for Quaid or Jacey. She saw Quaid with an arm around his smiling bride off to the right. They looked incredible together. Quaid was model handsome and his Anna was angelic. Quaid’s glower at Elizabeth marred the vision, but Elizabeth expected nothing less.
“It’s Easton to you, ma’am.” He leaned in and placed a hand on the vehicle door behind her. His inexpensive cologne was fresh and clean. He was an appealing and too-confident cowboy. She prayed those qualities did not place him in mortal peril someday. Especially not today. She’d stopped counting years ago the number of innocent deaths on her head. Caring about the people she met only led to agony.
Peter edged into her space and gave Easton a warning look. The cowboy ignored him. Very brave, or very reckless.
“Will you be in Montana long?” Easton asked.
“Regrettably, only this evening. This is the most beautiful spot I’ve ever seen.” She used the comment as a pretense to glance around. Where was Jacey? And why didn’t Quaid come greet her? Her little brother. Over nine years of not seeing him, and he was right there. She longed to talk to him, see how he had grown into a successful military man, look into his blue eyes and see if he was happy and not in torment any longer.
Not that she’d expected him to welcome her with open arms. Quaid was no longer concerned with social parameters, and he loathed her as much as he had their mother. He’d never believe how deeply she cared for him and how she’d fought and schemed as she tried to help him and Jacey.
All she could worry about right now was finding a way to convey her message before Father instructed Peter to yank her away. She was ready for anything to happen. Peter to identify Quaid and Jacey, then grab Elizabeth and push her back in the car and start shooting these innocent people. She could tell the men outnumbered the women. Even if they were all armed and it was thirty Montana residents against her eight guards, it would be a war zone and Peter and his men would cause death and destruction.
Would Father even give her the chance to ‘make her siblings allies’ or was his plan completely different?
Make your siblings martyrs.
She couldn’t dwell on those words, or she’d vomit. What if he had instructed Peter to murder Quaid and Jacey in front of her and take away all hope in her life?
Her palms began to sweat. Why had she agreed to come? Did she stand any chance of defeating or outsmarting her father?
“You’ve made it infinitely more beautiful, Elizabeth,” Easton said, interrupting her internal panic.
“Thank you.” She smiled. Always smiling. Always pleasant. It was second nature, thankfully.
“There’s a rodeo over in Kalispell tomorrow night. You could come watch the top bull rider in the West compete.”
A rodeo? What would this young man say if she told him she had never been allowed to sit through any sporting event? She had made appearances for photo shoots, but to actually watch and cheer? Never.
“The top bull rider?” She played along, hiding her agitation and the churning of her stomach. She was an expert at hiding both. “And who could that possibly be?”
He gave her a slow cowboy grin and leaned closer. She could imagine all the local girls and rodeo groupies were smitten by him. She could be cordial, even tease with him, but if she actually showed interest in a man who didn’t further her political path or wasn’t approved by her father, she would put that man in extreme danger. Peter was watching closely, and she knew recording devices were on.
She checked again for Jacey, aching to see her sister. Yet if Peter did something nefarious and gave the signal to start shooting, she didn’t want Jacey to be out here.
Her gaze stopped on a man whose confidence, stature, and appeal made him stand out from the crowd. She was thrown into a tailspin, one she had not foreseen nor prepared herself for.
Not fifty feet away, the man of her every longing stood, studying her openly.
Hays. Hays West. It was him. Not a mirage created by her deeply buried yearnings.
His mesmerizing brown eyes caught and held her in their grasp. She was warm all over, and her stomach hopped happily. Her legs wanted to run for him, but she was so weak she leaned against the SUV.
She smiled at him, the first genuine smile she had given in many years, hoping he could see that he was her heart’s only desire.
His handsome face softened into a welcoming grin. Her pulse raced.
Hays was here. For her? Was there still hope in this world? Hays had been happiness and her safe space. He was the only person she’d ever truly been herself around, the only man who had captured her heart and made her lips and body tingle. The yearning for Hays was the one indulgence she allowed herself. In her head.
Could she run to him? Tell him truths nobody in this world but her and her father knew? Beg him to whisk her far away from the darkness of her world, safeguard her from Peter and her father, love her? They could live out their days and nights in Ittoqqortoormiit, Greenland. The cold would not affect her with Hays nearby, his strong arms surrounding and sheltering her.
No! Elizabeth. Stop this insanity before it takes root and you can no longer keep up your façade.
What was she thinking? Peter had edged so close his arm was pressed against hers. She could smell him. Metal. The metal of his gun was this depraved beast’s scent. He was practically breathing on her neck. She couldn’t endanger Hays.
Years ago, she had been forced to break Hays’s heart when he dared come for her. He’d bravely fought through her guards but she had no choice but to coldly send him away, knowing he would be beaten by the guards because of the words she’d spoken that day and praying the ruse would work and her parents believe she didn’t care for him. Far better for Hays to be heartbroken, beaten, and sent away than tortured for years and eventually murdered.
It had worked—one of the few times she’d sort-of won. She’d waited with bated breath for years, certain they would somehow use Hays to hurt her. So far, that guillotine hadn’t dropped. She wouldn’t give Peter a reason to hurt him or report back to her father about him now.
