Page 3 of Craig

He merely grinned. "And you're still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen."

Her dark eyes, moist, brightened instantly. She had been around since before he was born, and had helped to take care of him.

The African-American woman was one of his more pleasant memories. Her presence here was enough to take the edge off his ragged nerves.

If Millicent was still here, things couldn't be that bad.

She patted his cheek, her smile warm and welcoming. "You must be hungry."

"I-" Before he had time to agree, the lawyer interrupted them.

"Mr. Cecil is waiting."

Millicent's smile cooled as she turned to give the man a glance. Without a word, she started down the hall, turning at the end of it to smile at Craig.

"Please find me when you're through."

"Count on it."

"Your grandfather will not like you associating with the help," the man told him as he preceded him along the narrow passageway.

Craig's mouth tightened.

"'The help,' as you called her, practically raised me. And unlike you, I don't do everything to please my grandfather."

For his blunt statement, Craig just received a measured glance. "He'll be in his study," he said, pushing open the solid oak door.

Craig had no idea what he'd expected, but it wasn't to see the old man shrunken and looking older than he remembered, behind a desk that dwarfed him. A jolt went through him as he took in the similar features.

It had always pissed him off that he looked more like him than he did his own father: the same handsome, regal bearing, rich, thick auburn hair, and intense jade-green eyes.

Cecil's hair was all white now, and his face was creased.

"So, the prodigal has returned." He waved a hand at William, who shut the door and took a seat at the front of the desk.

"More like bundled up and forced to come back." Craig stood stiff as a board in front of the desk.

"Sit, boy," Cecil ordered. "I have no intention of craning my neck."

Craig took the sofa at the window and sat on the very edge of it. "You don't look like a man who's dying."

The silence in the room went on for a few seconds before Cecil burst out laughing.

"Blunt and rude as usual. I am dying. Just don't think I should spend whatever little time I have left despairing or looking the part. I've ordered refreshments."

"I would rather hear what you have to say and be done with it," Craig told him stiffly. "I have no intention of spending an extra minute in this fortress."

Cecil stared at him with raised brows.

"Your rooms have been prepared. You're staying here."

"Absolutely not! You may have carted me here against my will, but you cannot force me to stay. I'll just stay at one of the apartments-"

"I see you've inherited more than my looks. The stubborn pride as well. Your daddy would have done well with even a little of it."

Craig's eyes blazed. "You dare speak of my father in that tone?"

"I speak of my son as I please. He was weak and malleable, much to my disappointment. You, on the other hand, are too much like me."