Beatrice and Douglas (10 page)

Douglas sat down and picked up his coffee.  “What was
that all about?”

“Just had a slinky sex kitten in here advertising her wares
and leaving a message for you.”

“I thought Alice was the only sex kitten in these parts.”

“Nooo. Remember when Martin Benedict came to the site and
brought his bimbet?”

“Martin Benedict?”

“Yep.”

“Funny how that name keeps coming up.”

“Isn’t it just.”

“What did she have to say then?”

She waited until he took a sip of his coffee for
effect.  “She just wanted to say she enjoyed your night together and she
is looking forward to your next date.”

Douglas choked and was just happy he didn’t spew across the
tablecloth.  He coughed and then wiped his mouth with his napkin, all in a
matter of seconds.  “Come again?”

“Yep.  She suggested you are totally two-timing
me.”  She leaned her chin on her hand.  “How’s the coffee?”

He studied her face looking for any signs of temper or hurt,
and found irritation.  “You don’t believe her.”

“Duh.”

Breakfast had been good.  They really did have the best
French toast, but it had been aggravating trying to figure out what Benedict
could possibly have to gain and getting nowhere.  They had to be missing
something because otherwise it was just stupid.

They were walking back to the B&B, and had just reached
the front gate when Douglas turned to face her, pulling her to a stop. 
“You know, if we had not known what was up with Benedict you might have
believed her.”

“Please.  You may be one of the world’s most annoying
men at times, but you’re no cheater.”  She patted him on the cheek and
turned to open the gate.  “Especially not when we both know you are
completely in love with me.”

The gate slammed behind her while he stood there like a lemming
watching her sashay up the walk.  She turned halfway up and looked back at
him.  “You coming?”

He opened his mouth to say who knew what, but a truck pulled
up behind him.  He turned to watch Logan McCord get out and come around
the black Chevy Suburban. 

“Glad I caught you.  Need you both to come with me.”

Well, that was ominous
, Beatrice thought, coming back
down the walk.  “You figured it out?”

“I did.”  He opened the passenger door and looked at
them expectantly.

Douglas opened the gate for her and pulled her to his side
and over to the truck.  He stopped beside the open truck door.  “Why
do I have a feeling I’m not going to like this?”

“Cause you got good instincts.”

***

They were all three sitting in the front bucket seats. 
It was a nice ride, the leather seats still smelled new, and the rest of the
truck was pristine.  Nevertheless, enough was enough. 

“Well?”  Beatrice was scrunched in next to Douglas with
plenty of space between her and Logan McCord, because Douglas was making damn
sure it stayed that way.  Who really cared about that at a time like this?
 “Why is he doing it?”

Logan looked over at them briefly before putting his eyes
back on the road.  “Martin Benedict’s mother was Elaine Ralston before she
married Curt Benedict.” 

Every muscle in Douglas’s body seized up like he was balling
it into a fist. 
That can’t be good.
 She turned her head to
look at him.  “You know the name?”

“My mother’s name was Ralston . . . Rebecca Ralston. 
Elaine was her older sister.”

“That means Benedict is your cousin.”

“Yes.”

They were all silent as they absorbed the
ramifications.  Then Beatrice hugged him tight.  “Wow, who knew that
old fart was doing you a favor when he disowned your mother and you.”

He barked out a laugh when nothing should have been
funny.  He pulled her closer against his side, buried his face in her
hair.  “Yeah.”

“He didn’t disown you.”  Logan McCord didn’t look away
from the road when he threw that out there.  “At least not
completely.  His lawyer informed me he would if you refused to see him
before he died, but if you come, you inherit the multi-million dollar estate
your grandfather spent his lifetime building.  It’s split equally between
you and your only living cousin.  You don’t show, your cousin gets it
all.”

“That little pissant.  He’s been trying to distract you
from seeing your grandfather so he can get all the money.  What a retard.”

That had Logan McCord looking her way, even while Douglas
was absorbing the hit.  “Why retard?  I get pissant, clearly he’s a
greedy little fucker, but besides hiring idiots, he was smart enough. 
Doubt he’ll see the inside of a jail.”

“Hah!”  The word was loud in the enclosed truck and it
almost made Douglas smile, almost.  “Douglas was never going to go see his
grandfather.  He could give two twigs about his multi-millions.  But
now he has to go just so his worm of a cousin doesn’t win.”  She huffed,
her nose in the air very lady of the manor.  “Retard is accurate.”

And she was one-hundred percent right about what he would
feel compelled to do, too. 
Damn the little fucker anyway.
  He
was going to have to do what he swore he never would.

At the next stop sign, Logan took his eyes off the road long
enough to assess them.  Douglas held his gaze, wondering what what the man
saw. 
 
Then he gave Douglas the
barest chin lift and went back to his driving.

“I have a plane ready that will get us to Sacramento fast.”

Beatrice looked away from Douglas long enough to scrunch her
nose and look at Logan with suspicious eyes.  Even as she spoke to one
man, she found Douglas’s hand, and twined their fingers.  “This is
certainly an all-encompassing investigative business you have.”

Logan smiled, but kept his focus straight ahead.  “This
has more to do with brothers in arms, and favors owed, than business.”

“Oorah and semper fi?”

Douglas snorted out a laugh. 

Even Logan chuckled.  “That’s the Marines, but the idea
is the same.”

Beatrice let it go.  It was going to be a long enough
trip as it was without worrying about the mystery that was Logan McCord.  She
was going to have to call Jack and let him know what was happening.  At
least the guys would be off for the weekend and they would not have to deal
with that just yet.  For her part, Benedict could take his house and shove
it up his ass.  For now, she was here with Douglas, and she would do what
she could for him.  They would just have to deal with the rest as it came.

Beatrice held his hand and laid her head on his shoulder
ignoring the way the seatbelt bit into her side.  He didn’t say anything,
but his jaw was hard as a rock, his eyes flinty as he watched the scenery slip
by, and his hand in hers held on tight.

***

Logan got them to Sacramento in a private plane, where a car
was waiting for them at the airport.  He drove them all the way to the old
estate where his grandfather lay dying.  Then, it was just them.

The last time Douglas had passed through these doors he had
been in his twenties; finishing up his last year of state college, he had
already decided to make his living with his hands.  Jack had encouraged
him to do exactly what he wanted, whether that was college, the military, or a
trade.  Douglas had already decided to follow in the family business of
building, and had eked through the hated four years until he was free of
business classes and could concentrate on what he really loved – carpentry.

His grandfather had seen that as somehow beneath his
pedigree.  It was one of the many things he had thrown in Douglas’s face
when he finally deigned to see him, and it had all gone downhill from there.

Unlike that first meeting, there was no obvious stalling to
put him in his place.  The servant showed them to an antechamber where
Beatrice could wait, and with a final hug, she whispered, “I’ll be right
here.”  He was on his own.

The room they led him to was large and plush, old money
antiques everywhere.  It had recently been converted into a bedroom,
probably when the old man could no longer take the stairs. It used to be a
study and this was the second time he had been in here. 

Last time it had been intimidating.  This time it was
just sad.  The old man was in his bed, hooked up to machines and breathing
with the help of an oxygen tank, and the only thing around him was his antiques
that were as dry and lifeless as he looked.  The only smells in the room
were astringent and age.

“So you finally showed.”  The voice was pale and
stringy compared to the robust voice he remembered.

“I wasn’t going to.”

There was a dry cackle.  “Too much money to ignore.”

Douglas shook his head.  “If Benedict had left me
alone, I would never have come here.”

“Benedict?”  The old man coughed.  “What’s he got
to do with it?”

“I guess he likes your money too much to share it.  He
set about on a campaign to keep me from coming.  You can thank him for
this visit the next time you see him.”

“Humph.  That sounds like Martin.  Always was
ambitious.”

“That’s one way to describe it.”

“You can hardly throw stones.  You swore you would
never come back here.”

“I swore I would never come back here for your money, which
is what you accused me of wanting last time.”

“People are a deceptive lot.  All betrayal and deceit –
even my daughters . . .” 

Douglas interrupted him in a hard voice before he could go
on.  “I’m not responsible for what my mother did.  I’m sure as hell
not here to take a second serving of whipping boy.  What did you want to
say to me?”

There was a long time where all he could hear was the raspy
breathing of the man and the pumping of the machine.  “Maybe I just wanted
to see if you would come.  Knew it was always about the money.  When
you were here before I knew it then.”

Douglas stood up.  “We’re done here.”

“We’re done when I say we’re done.”  The old man raised
his voice and ended up in a coughing fit.  Douglas opened the door and
called for the nurse.  He walked out listening to the old man sputter and
struggle, while swearing he would never see a cent if he left now. 

And he didn’t care.  It was all hollow and meaningless
here.  Beatrice was right.  He was lucky the old man disowned
him.  If that was what Martin Benedict had lived with his whole life he
was welcome to the money.  Hell, he had earned every penny.

After the gloominess of the deathbed the light in the hall
was welcome, but when his eyes adjusted, he looked up and there was his cousin,
looking old money and just as cold as the possessions he coveted.

Douglas Bruce laughed bitterly.  “What, you heard I was
coming and you jumped to head me off?”

“You haven’t been the one who had to put up with the old man
all these years.  I earned that money.”  Benedict’s voice was bitter,
and his face lost some of its suave good looks when he got worked up.  He
probably had no idea he was the spitting image of his grandfather.

Douglas shook his head at them both; if nothing else, this
trip had shown him once again what was really important, so at least it wasn’t
a complete waste of time.  “Funny, I was just thinking that same
thing.”  He swept his hand to the door, “It’s all yours.”  For the
second time in as many minutes, he walked away from a blood relative spewing
hate, and stepped right into the light.

He made it to the antechamber and there she was, standing in
that gloomy room with real warmth in her eyes, for him.  She walked to him
without one question about the money.  She came into his arms and it was the
best thing he had ever felt.

“Let’s go home,” he said into her sunshine hair, and felt
her nod slip silky against his chin.

***

Beatrice was grateful when Logan got them home, or at least
back to Port Townsend where they still had to load up the gear and collect
their stuff from Mrs. Peal.

“I’ll stick around a few days to make sure you have no
further problems, but I don’t guess you’ll have to see me again.”  Then,
poof!  He was gone, walking out of their lives just as fast as he had
come.  It was very Keyser Söze — only
he
was walking just fine in
sexy denim to his truck.

“Are you staring at his ass again?”

“No!”
 
Beatrice jerked her eyes over to
Douglas’s glower.  “What?  No!  Of course not.” 

He turned with a growl and headed for the gate.  They
could see Mrs. Peal waving from the front window, so Beatrice waved back before
following.

“It’s a good thing I am secure in your love, or I might be
pissed right now.”  At his words, she froze just through the gate and it
closed with a snap behind her.  Since Douglas, The Bruce, had stopped
right on the other side, she suddenly found herself wedged between hard man and
gate.

“Secure in my love?”

He reached up and yanked on a curl.  “Ah, Bumble
Bee.  You know you can’t imagine a life without me.”  Then he smiled
that sexy half smile of his. 

Despite everything that had happened, he was still
smiling.  It floored her, how much she loved this man.  Then he
turned and headed inside. 
Wait.  What?

“It’s the other way around isn’t it Douglas, The
Bruce?  You so can’t live without
me
!”

He turned right around and came back.  Leaning down he
smacked a kiss to her lips.  “You’re right.  I am completely and
totally in love with you.”

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.  She didn’t
get the chance to speak anyway, before he threw her over his shoulder and
headed inside.  She should probably protest, but when the man she loved
went all caveman, told her he loved her, and hauled her off to have his wicked
way with her, well, she wasn’t going to quibble over the details.  Not
after how badly this day had sucked.

***

Mrs. Peal was watching as they came in the door, and she
watched as he carried her up the stairs and headed for their room with no
visible sign of back strain.  He even winked sexy at her as he
passed.  She patted her fluttering heart and sighed. 
So much
better than television.  Break-ins, and jealous boyfriends, break-ups and
police.  And the romance…Even ‘Days of Our Lives’ can’t compete.