Page 44 of Redemption

A heart attack isn’t at all likely.

I rub the center of my chest, straighten my shoulders, and stride out to face my brother.

He’s standing in the corridor, waiting for me. I suppose it’s a small mercy that he didn’t barge into my bedroom. It’s his house, after all. I surrendered my claim over it when I gave up my title and everything that went along with it.

“What do you want, James?” I demand, less coolly composed than usual.

The terrible confrontation with Abigail in the bath has shaken me to my core.

He eyes me up and down, then lets out a low whistle. “What the fuck happened to you? America not treating you well these days? Is that why you’ve come home? You look like shit.”

“And you look like the same spoiled, arrogant little twat I left behind fifteen years ago.”

He was only thirteen years old then, but he has the same dark auburn hair and eyes that match mine. A short beard covers his jaw now, but I still see a boy when I look at him.

His lips curl in a sneer. “Charming, as ever. Is this how you tempted your mystery woman to come to England with you? You must’ve truly swept her off her feet with your silver tongue. Or is it the family name you’re trying to impress her with? You must’ve brought her to the estate for a reason. What’s the problem? Is she not impressed with your massive…ego?”

The way he lingers over the insult makes it very clear that it’s a slight against my manhood.

He knows about Abigail. That’s far more worrying than his barbed comments.

“Who told you about Abigail?” I bark.

I don’t want him to know anything about her, much less the fact that I brought her here against her will.

You kidnapped me, Dane. You drugged me and brought me to another country.Her accusation rakes through mythoughts, shredding me even as I attempt to gather my outward composure.

James’ green eyes are wary on mine now. “You’re different, big brother. I’ve never seen you worked up like this. America has changed you. Or is it her? Abigail, is it?”

“Keep her name out of your fucking mouth.”

He takes a quick step back, then shrugs and returns to his nonchalant, spoiled prince posture. “Fine. Keep her secret. I really don’t care. I only came to see if you were really here. I could hardly believe it when the groundskeeper told me this morning that you’d paid him to leave. Too bad you can’t buy loyalty. You’re not the heir anymore, Daniel.”

“Yes, that’s the whole point,” I remind him coldly.

I didn’t want to be the fucking heir. I refused to perform for them, to fit into the neat, small little box my parents designed for me. The cage they built with money and a “proud” lineage.

“But you’re back,” James counters. “Why?”

I hear Abigail moving around the bathroom: soft clatters of scented soap and the spray of warm water.

“Tea?” I ask blandly, gesturing in the direction of the grand staircase. “We can talk in the kitchen.”

“I thought you’d never ask. I assumed you’d forgotten your manners.”

Tea is always appropriate in England, even when verbally sparring with one of my oldest enemies. We can be civilized while utterly eviscerating one another.

12

ABIGAIL

Imake quick work of washing the rest of the paint from my body, but by the time I’m clean and wearing a fresh dress, Dane is gone.

Someone else is in the manor. I heard them call out for Dane before he left me alone in the bathroom.

OrDaniel,as they had addressed him.

An old friend? Or a family member?

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