In the morning, when Katie asked for a tour of Stephanie’s jumping ranch, Royce resisted the temptation to tag along. Much as he’d love to spend the time with Amber, he was afraid he’d end up studying his sister’s expressions, movements and mannerisms for traces of the man he’d hated for twenty long years.
She was still his baby sister. He loved her, and he’d move heaven and earth to protect her. But he needed some time to come to terms with the knowledge she was also Frank Stanton’s daughter.
What the hell had his mother been thinking?
Had she known which man fathered Stephanie? What was her plan? Was she going to take Stephanie with her and Stanton? Would she have destroyed that many lives for her own selfish happiness?
The knowledge crept like a cold snake into his belly.
He smacked open the front door, marching onto the porch to take a deep breath of fresh air. He didn’t wish anybody dead, not even Frank Stanton. But he wasn’t sorry his mother’s plan had failed. He couldn’t imagine his life without Stephanie.
An engine roared in the distance, dust wafting up at the crest of the drive. Royce squinted against the midmorning sunshine. He knew it was too early for Amber and Katie to return, but he couldn’t help hoping.
Amber had been amazing last night. First she’d let him rail in anger. Then she’d offered practical advice. She seemed to have an uncanny knack for knowing when to stay quiet and when to talk. Finally, against all odds, she helped him find a touch of humor in the face of catastrophe.
Afterward, he’d stayed awake for hours, simply holding her in his arms, letting the feel of her body make his troubles seem less daunting.
It was a car that appeared over the rise. A dark sedan, dusty from the long road in, but unmistakably new, and undeniably expensive. The windows were tinted, and the driver moved tentatively around the potholes dotting dirt and sparse gravel.
Not a local, that was for sure.
Royce made his way down the front stairs, wondering if this could be the mysterious Alec Creighton, or perhaps someone from the Ryder Chicago office.
The car eased to a halt. The engine went silent. And the driver’s door swung open wide.
Royce didn’t recognize the tall man who emerged. He looked to be in his late thirties. He was clean shaven, his hair nearly black. He wore a Savile Row suit and an expensive pair of loafers. His white shirt was pressed, the patterned silk tie classic and understated.
To his credit, he didn’t flinch at the dust, simply slammed the car door shut and gave Royce a genuine smile, stepping forward to offer his hand. “Hargrove Alston.”
Royce faltered midreach but quickly recovered. “Royce Ryder.”
He resisted the urge to grip too hard, though he squared his shoulders and straightened his spine, watching Hargrove’s expression closely for signs that there was going to be a fight.
“Good to meet you,” Hargrove offered. There wasn’t a trace of anger or resentment in the man’s eyes. Either he didn’t know about Royce and Amber, or the man had one hell of a poker face.
“What brings you to Montana?” Royce opened.
A split second of annoyance narrowed the man’s eyes. “For starters, I understand you’re harboring my fiancée.”
Royce resented the accusation. “It was at her request.”
Hargrove’s smile flattened. “I’m sure it was. I’d like to speak with her if you don’t mind.”
“She’s not here.” The statement was true enough. Amber might be close by, she wasn’t specifically on the ranch this very moment.
Hargrove glanced to the house then back to Royce. “You have a reason to lie to me?”
“I have no reason to lie.”
Hargrove regarded him with obvious impatience.
“I can try to pass along a message,” Royce offered, folding his arms over his chest and planting his feet apart on the dusty drive.
“You do know who I am, right?”
“You said you were Hargrove Alston.”
“I’m not accustomed to being stonewalled, Mr. Ryder.”
“And I’m not accustomed to uninvited guests on my land, Mr. Alston.”
Hargrove’s expression went hard. “I know she’s here.”
“I told you she wasn’t.”
There was a pause while the entire ranch seemed to hold its breath.
“But you do know where she is.”
Royce did. Since he preferred not to lie, he didn’t answer.
Hargrove gave a cool, knowing smile. “She does bring out the protective instincts.”
The assessment rang true. And it reminded Royce how well Hargrove knew Amber. She had been bringing out Royce’s protective instincts from the moment they’d met.
He decided it was time to stop the pretense. “I assume you’re here to drag her back to Chicago.”
The shot of pain that flitted through Hargrove’s eyes was quickly masked by anger. “I’m here to tell her she can’t solve her problems by running away from them.”
Guilt hit Royce square in the solar plexus. Amber had, in fact, run away from Hargrove. And Royce had helped her.
His thoughts went to his father, and an unwelcome chill rippled up his spine. His mother had written a letter. Amber had settled for a text.
Not that Royce was anything like Frank Stanton. Looking back to his teenage memories, Frank had deliberately and methodically lured a woman away from her husband and children.
“Do you have any idea why she left?” he found himself asking.
“Only Amber knows the answer to that.” Hargrove shook his head in disgust. “Forget that the wedding dress arrived from Paris this week, that the caterer’s put the Kobe beef on hold, that the florist has a Holland order in limbo and that the press has been commenting on Amber’s absence. We have fifty people arriving for the wedding shower on Saturday. Her mother’s frantic with worry.”
Royce swallowed, considering for the first time the destruction Amber had left in her wake.
Hargrove’s dark eyes glittered. “I can’t wait to sit her down and ask a few questions.”
“Did you think about canceling everything?” Royce ventured. If it was him, and the bride went AWOL, as Amber had, Royce couldn’t see himself waiting around.
“Are you married, Mr. Ryder?”
Royce shook his head.
“Ever been in love?”
“Nope.”
“Well, once you get there, you’ll find yourself making allowances for the most inappropriate behavior.”
“So, you’d take her back?”
“You don’t throw this away over some prewedding jitters. Our plans have been in the works for four years. Our relationship is built on mutual goals and respect. And the foundation of my entire campaign has been built around the fresh faces of Mr. and Mrs. Hargrove Alston. If we’re lucky, she’ll be pregnant by the primaries.”
It sounded a little cold-blooded to Royce. But it also sounded as though Amber was fundamentally entwined in Hargrove’s life. And he hadn’t considered the situation from Hargrove’s perspective.
Amber herself had admitted he was a decent guy. He wasn’t malicious or abusive. He simply wasn’t as exciting as she’d hoped.
Well, hell, honey, it had been four years. When you were in it for the long haul, the thrill of romance eventually turned into the routine of everyday life.
“There’s no way you end something like this on a whim,” Hargrove finished, and Royce couldn’t deny the man’s point.
Relationships took work. They took patience and commitment. They didn’t need third party interference. An honorable man would have walked away the minute he saw her diamond ring.
And what the hell had Royce expected? Amber wouldn’t stick with him any more than she’d stuck with Hargrove. In the end, he would have been left with nothing but a broken heart and the knowledge he’d destroyed another man’s life.
Another engine sounded on the driveway. Before the blue pickup even crested the hill, Royce knew exactly who had arrived.