The Enemy's Daughter (Dynasties: The Danforths Book 9) Read online

  “Okay.” He led her to a stone bench along the edge of a square they were passing and indicated that she should take a seat. As she did, he sank down beside her. “In February, Kimberly’s fiancé saw her along the road. She tried to speak to him, but Zack couldn’t figure out what she was saying. The way he tells it, she got ticked off just like any woman with a guy who doesn’t get it, and left.”

  Selene smiled, and he could see the flash of her teeth in the dark that had fallen over the city. “I wonder what she was trying to tell him?”

  “We don’t know. She was seen again in May. This time, it was a houseguest—my sister-in-law’s brother—and Dennis actually thought she was another guest who walked into the wrong bedroom. He didn’t even realize who he’d seen until the next day.”

  “Goodness! Had she been seen in the house before?”

  “No,” he said. “That one was a shock to all of us. She came around again in July, and Lea’s fiancé saw her this time. He swears she kept saying something that sounded like ‘farther’ or ‘father.’”

  Selene was shaking her head. “Poor thing. I hope someone can help her find whatever it is she’s looking for one of these days.”

  “So do I,” he said. “She does no harm wandering around, except for startling a few people. But I think there must be something specific she wants, or wants to communicate or find.”

  “I wonder if there’s any significance to the fact that recently she’s been seen only by houseguests or people who aren’t related by blood to the Danforths,” she said.

  Adam stared at her. “I missed that completely,” he said slowly. “You’re right. I may have to go back through some of the older accounts to see if the folks who had a sighting were family.”

  “Blood relatives,” she clarified. “Not people who married into the family.”

  “Blood relatives,” he echoed. He took her hand. “Thank you. I guess it seems silly but it’s been bugging me, the thought that she’s so unhappy.”

  “It doesn’t seem silly at all,” Selene said gently. “It seems thoughtful. And caring.”

  Was that what she really thought? Warmth spread through his chest and he leaned forward, taking both her hands in his. “I’m so glad you agreed to see me again.”

  Her eyelids lowered. “I shouldn’t have, I know. If my father finds out…”

  “Why don’t you take me to meet him?” Adam said. “Then we won’t have to sneak around and you won’t have to worry. The election is only two months away. As long as we keep it low-key until then, surely he won’t mind.”

  “Adam, you don’t understand.” Her fingers had tensed in his. “My father doesn’t—he wouldn’t understand. If he finds out I’m seeing you, he’ll forbid it.”

  He tried to smile, although the certainty in her tone had his stomach curling into a knot. “Surely it isn’t that bad. I could—”

  “No!” she said. “You can’t do anything. Or I won’t see you again.” She tugged her hands from his and rose, clearly agitated.

  Adam sat very still, looking at her rigid spine. He didn’t know what to say. He hated feeling as if they had to watch over their shoulders every moment.

  Then she turned, and he could see the track of a single tear shining in the moonlight as it streaked down her cheek. “I don’t want you to be unhappy with me,” she whispered. “I just know that until this election ends and Daddy settles down, he’s not going to be able to deal with me dating a Danforth.”

  “All right.” He rose and went to her, taking her into his arms. She felt small and soft against him, and when she wrapped her arms around his neck and let her body rest trustingly along his, he thought his heart might just burst right out of his chest. “We’ll do it your way. Just promise me you won’t let your father stop you from seeing me.”

  “Of course not.” She drew back and looked up at him. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened in my life, Adam.”

  He drank in her stunning features, the appeal in her wide eyes, and he was lost. “As you are in mine.” And then he bent his head and found her mouth with his.

  Three

  She was lost the moment his lips touched hers. Adam’s mouth was warm and gentle as he kissed her, cajoling her to return the kiss. His arms were hard and muscular and yet he held her as though she were made of crystal.

  With a murmured sound of pleasure, she ran her palms up his arms to his shoulders and gave herself to the sweetness of the moment.

  After a moment, he drew away. “When can I see you again?”

  “Soon,” she said dreamily, feathering her fingers through the soft hair at the back of his head.

  He kissed her again. “Tomorrow.”

  Immediately, she felt a return of the dread that hovered in the back of her mind, the fear that her father might find out. She was usually home much of the time. He might get suspicious if she suddenly was busy every moment.

  “The day after tomorrow,” she said. “Tomorrow’s a little crowded.” It was a lie, but she wasn’t going to take any chances.

  “All right,” he agreed. “Lunch? Meet me in Oglethorpe Square where we met the other day.”

  She smiled, relieved at his easy acceptance. “All right. Could we go somewhere outside the city to eat, though? I’d like a change of scenery.” And then there would be no chance of running into anyone either of them knew.

  She didn’t get home until nearly eleven, and she let herself in quietly, hoping her father was asleep already. But as she tiptoed toward the grand staircase that led to her suite of rooms on the second floor, he appeared in the doorway of his study.

  “Selene! I was beginning to wonder where you’d gotten to.” He switched on the large chandelier that hung in the entrance and she blinked in the sudden bright light.

  John Van Gelder looked tired. And…old, she thought. Older than a man of sixty-three should look. Even the silver that had replaced his blond hair in places seemed tarnished and dull. His dress shirt ballooned over the waistband of his creased linen slacks, poorly concealing his girth. She’d been a little shocked to see how much weight her father had put on compared to her memory of him.

  “Hello, Father.”

  “Out on the town, I suppose? You do realize that your actions will attract the attention of every reporter, don’t you?” His pale gray eyes were as sharp as his tone.

  “Yes, Father. I took a tour of the historical district.” That wasn’t a lie. Exactly. Not like what she’d said to Adam about being busy tomorrow.

  “At night?”

  “It focused on ghosts and legends. Did you know that there really was a girl who stood where the statue of the Waving Girl is? She waved a cloth over her head just like the statue is depicted to signal boats on the river, and some people swear they’ve seen the stone cloth of that statue ripple as well.”

  John snorted. “There’s a ghost associated with practically every old building in Savannah. You’re nobody if your home isn’t haunted in this city.” He chuckled at his own wit. Then he sobered abruptly. “Did you catch the interview with Abe Danforth tonight?”

  Silently, she shook her head. Danforth. She felt as if the name were written in black marker on her forehead.

  He smiled grimly. “Cable news. They had him scrambling to explain why his kids spend more time with their aunt and uncle than they do with him. Rumor has it his own kids can’t even stand him. And I wonder how they feel about a bastard half sister?”

  Appalled at her father’s coarseness and lack of empathy, Selene shook her head. “I imagine it’s a difficult time for them.”

  “I hope so,” her father said with relish.

  Not for the first time, she wondered what her mother had been like. Why she had married John Van Gelder. Had he been kinder, gentler, more human once? He’d been handsome as a younger man, though time and temperament had taken away most of his good looks and left him looking calculating and less than pleasant. “Father,” she said suddenly, “how did you and my mother meet? What was
it about her that you fell in love with first?”

  Her father went still. Every muscle in his body froze. “Why would you bring that up?” he asked, a fleeting expression of anguish twisting his features before he wiped it away.

  “I know nothing about her, nothing about her family,” she said. “I just wondered…”

  “Well, don’t wonder,” he said abruptly. “There’s no sense in talking about the past.” He swallowed, then, almost reluctantly, he added, “You look like her, you know. Damn near a dead ringer.”

  “I do?” She was thrilled. “Do you have any pictures of her?”

  To her surprise, her father didn’t answer. In fact, he didn’t even appear to hear her. As she’d been speaking, he had turned and disappeared into his study again, his shoulders slumped, his eyes unfocused.

  Slowly, she turned and made her way up the stairs, treading lightly on the lovely runner that echoed the soft colors in the upstairs hall. Unless she was very much mistaken, her father was still grieving for her mother. Still! After twenty-three years, he could hardly bear to speak of her.

  And another realization swept over her as his words echoed in her ears. You look like her, you know. Damn near a dead ringer. She, Selene, reminded him of what he’d lost.

  As she entered her suite, decorated in subtle shades of lavender and spring-green with dainty, feminine touches provided by an interior designer, her eyes began to sting and a true feeling of hopelessness crept into her soul.

  All these years she’d told herself her father was merely busy, a single man with a political career who probably thought boarding school was the best option for his only child. But now she had to face the truth. Her father had sent her away deliberately. Because he couldn’t stand to have her around, reminding him of what he’d lost.

  A sob hitched her breathing and she bit down hard on her lower lip to contain others. Her father didn’t love her. Didn’t want her. The only reason he’d brought her home, she saw, was because her presence was good for his image in this campaign.

  Another sob threatened and she swallowed it, nearly choking on the lump in her throat. She would not cry, she told herself fiercely. She didn’t need her father. He’d never allowed that.

  But now…now she had Adam. The ache in her chest lessened a little and she focused on thoughts of him, of the warmth in his striking amber eyes when he smiled at her. Unless she was completely reading him wrong, he was feeling the same things she was. Attraction, both physical and intellectual. He made her laugh. Made her think. Made her wonder at the strength of the desire that had swamped her when he’d kissed her tonight.

  She wanted him to kiss her again. Soon. Wanted more of the magical sensations he sent racing through her system. She hugged thoughts of him to her and carefully avoided thinking of her father, of the hurt he’d inflicted on her over the years. In two days, she would see Adam again.

  The two days took forever to pass. Every minute seemed to have hours built into it.

  But finally, finally, she stepped out of the taxi and walked into Oglethorpe Square, and there he was.

  He was dressed in a finely woven patterned sport shirt and khaki pants and his eyes lit up when he saw her walking toward him. No, they didn’t light up so much as they caught fire, she amended, her heart skipping madly at the heat that blazed a trail over her short, flirty sundress and finally landed on her mouth.

  He opened his arms as she reached him, and when he drew her to him for a kiss, she couldn’t have objected if she’d tried. All she could do was wrap her arms around his wide shoulders and kiss him back, delighting in his obvious pleasure.

  When a passing tourist whistled at them, Adam chuckled and loosened his arms. “I can think of better places to be doing this,” he said, smiling. “Good afternoon.”

  “Good afternoon,” she repeated, unable to prevent a silly smile from curving up her own lips. How could he make her so happy with one little kiss?

  He took her hand and led her to a sporty little American car. “I thought we could drive over to Hilton Head for lunch,” he said. “It’s less than an hour away, and it’s a pretty drive.”

  He could have taken her to the moon for all she cared, as long as she could be with him. On the drive out, he regaled her with stories of the area through which they were passing. They lunched at a charming little restaurant by one of the Savannah River’s last fingers before it reached the sea. Their waiter showed them to a table on a shaded deck and brought them steaming plates of lobster with dishes of butter. There were white aprons to protect their clothes and Adam teased her about setting a new fashion when the apron extended below the hem of her dress, making it look as if she wore nothing beneath the apron. They cracked lobster claws, drank a bottle of white wine, and once again she realized how comfortable she was with him.

  “Tell me about growing up in Europe,” he said after he’d finished telling her about Hilton Head Island’s evolution into a golf mecca. “You must be getting tired of hearing me talk.”

  “Not at all,” she assured him.

  “Well, I’m getting tired of hearing myself,” he said, grinning. “Your turn. Where was your school?”

  “There were two, actually,” she said. “I began in Zurich and was there for seven years. My best friend was French, and when her family decided to transfer her to a school in Geneva for secondary school, I begged Daddy to do the same. After I finished, I attended Oxford. What else do you want to know?”

  “Which country did you like better?”

  “Switzerland,” she said promptly. “It’s far too dreary in England to suit me.”

  “What did you study at Oxford?”

  “Classical languages and Greek literature.”

  “So you speak other languages?”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Well, I spent a lot of time with my friend Willi’s family on holiday, so I learned French quite young. I’m also fluent in German—it’s hard not to be when it’s one of the national languages the Swiss speak. Other than that, I’ve studied Latin. But that’s a dead language, of course.”

  Adam laughed. “I’ve always thought that sounded so morbid. Wouldn’t it be better to say, ‘languages that have passed away,’ or, ‘deceased languages’?”

  Now it was her turn to laugh.

  While she was still chuckling, he said, “When I met you I thought you had an interesting accent. Now I know why.”

  “I don’t have an accent,” she said indignantly. “Not like y’all do.” The sentence was a perfect imitation of a slow Savannah drawl.

  “There you go,” said Adam. “Now you sound normal.”

  She was about to answer him when she caught sight of a familiar face. She froze.

  Two tables away, one of her father’s chief campaign workers was being seated at a table with three other men. She couldn’t see the faces of the others, so she had no way of knowing whether or not she might recognize them also.

  Immediately, she shifted sideways so that Adam’s body was blocking her from view. “Adam,” she said in a low voice. “Don’t turn around, but there’s a man behind you who knows me. He’s working on my father’s reelection and I’ve spoken to him several times at events.”

  Adam’s eyebrows rose. He had rinsed his fingers with lemon and he laid aside the napkin with which he was drying them. “And you’re sure that telling your father about us is such a terrible thing?” His voice was very neutral, very careful and she realized she had hurt him with her insistence on hiding their meetings.

  She leaned across the table, searching for words to explain. “My father has spent his whole life in politics. This race is terribly important to him…. If he—I don’t know what will happen if he doesn’t win. I don’t think he’s ever even imagined what life without politics would be like.”

  “There are a lot of other ways to contribute to the democratic process than by being an elected official.” For the first time since they’d met, his eyes were cool and distant, and she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.<
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  “You don’t know my father,” she said in a small voice.

  There was a brief, tense silence at the table.

  “Well,” he said at last. “If you’re so eager to get out of here, we may as well go.”

  He rose and came around the table to pull out her chair. She noticed that he stayed between her and the man she had recognized as much as he could, and she used the opportunity to duck her head and put on the huge dark sunglasses she had with her.

  Shortly afterward, he handed her back into the car and they set off for Savannah again. She’d expected it to be a long and painfully quiet drive, but Adam began to tell her stories of some of the scrapes he, his siblings and his cousins had gotten into when they were all younger. She was fascinated and her imagination ran wild trying to picture being part of such a tribe of children. She told him of school escapades, though they generally were much milder than some of the tales Adam had to tell. She enjoyed it so much that she forgot the change in his behavior over lunch, forgot the disagreement, if that’s what it even had been, that they’d had.

  But when they’d parked, Adam turned to her and said, “Are you going to see me again?” and his face was so sober that the constraint between them earlier immediately returned in a rush.

  “I—I’d like to,” she said. “I’d really like to. If you want.”

  “Of course I want to see you,” he said. He picked up her hand and lightly rubbed his thumb over the knuckles, then raised it to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “I wish we didn’t have to sneak around behind your father’s back, but I respect your concerns. But after the election, no more stalling. No matter what the outcome of the election, we tell him. Agreed?”

  She nodded, huge butterflies taking wing in her stomach and making her feel oddly breathless. “Agreed.” Happiness rose in a steep, giddy rush. The election was still weeks and weeks away.

  Weeks and weeks in which Adam clearly assumed they would still want to be together. She couldn’t think of anything that would make her happier.