“And what is the trouble?” He was almost afraid to ask. He’d never seen his butler’s feathers ruffled before.
“Well…your parents have been behaving a little indelicately. They brought Ms. Vanderholt with them. It seems they have allowed Ms. Taylor to believe that…” Bradley glanced away nervously and then looked back. “That you and Ms. Vanderholt are engaged.”
“What?” The comment stopped him cold. His parents were bold enough to try a move like that? Corrine knew very well he wouldn’t be seeing her again in any capacity. Well, that was going to be dealt with immediately.
He stormed into the Winter Garden and despite the fact that it was actually a hothouse for flowers, the room was full of a winter chill. Callie was standing off to one corner, biting her bottom lip as Hayden and Fenn watched Corrine and his parents with narrowed eyes.
“Yes, this will have to be remodeled of course,” his mother was saying to Corrine.
“I agree.” Corrine’s cold gaze swept across the room, then hit him. “Wes!” She rose and started toward him. He didn’t even look her way. His legs ate up the ground as he brushed right past her to reach Callie.
Her lips parted in surprise as he grasped her face in his hands and kissed her. He did it thoroughly, letting himself go as he embraced her fully. It didn’t matter how many people were here watching him. Callie belonged to him and he didn’t want Corrine thinking she could slither her way in between them. Callie’s hands dug into his arms as her tongue shyly touched his, and only when she fully melted for him did he let her go. She wavered on her feet and he turned around to face everyone.
“Mother, what are you doing here?” He didn’t bother with the pretense of civilities. There was no point. On more than one occasion, he’d made it quite clear that his parents weren’t welcome at his house.
“Now, wait a minute.” His father was on his feet in an instant, blustering, his face ruddy with his displeasure.
“Father, I’m in no mood for you today. Take mother, Corrine, and yourself and get out of my house.” His tone was tipped with icy venom, but he held Callie against him, absorbing the faint trembling of her body.
Corrine’s eyes, so deadly wild, were the opposite of her cool, collected face.
“Mrs. Thorne, we should leave,” Corrine said in a soothing, silky tone, but her eyes were murderous, not at him but at Callie.
I warned you, Corrine. He wanted to say it out loud, but now was not the time. That woman would be leaving. She knew where he stood now, or more accurately who he stood with. The room remained as silent as a tomb while his parents and Corrine left. Only when the door to the Winter Garden had closed behind him did he let out a slow breath.
“What the hell, Wes?” Fenn growled as he and Hayden walked over to him. Callie tried to extricate herself from his hold, but he dug his fingers into her hips, keeping her close.
“I’m sorry you witnessed that,” Wes replied. “They knew they weren’t welcome.”
What bothered him was why they had come, and why with Corrine? He knew his mother thought Corrine was a perfect wife for him, but he’d rather die than shackle himself to her. How he had ever been attracted to her in the first place was a mystery.
“I’m just glad they’re gone,” Callie said. “I didn’t like them. No offense, Wes,” she said quietly, as though disturbed she’d spoken openly against his family. Her eyes were dark with concern and her brows knit with faint worry lines. He cupped her face and leaned down to kiss away her tears.
“No one likes them,” he assured her. “Least of all me.”
She relaxed at his reassurance and without a word tucked herself into his arms. He held her a long moment, enjoying the simple connection of their embrace.
When they broke apart he realized their audience was watching with no small amount of curiosity and astonishment. Hayden looked amused, her eyes twinkling and her mouth twisting into a secretive smile. Fenn, however, looked…well…Wes saw the tempest brewing in him. Fenn had asked him at the engagement party to watch out for Callie, to take care of her. He’d done that and more.
“I want a word with you,” Fenn said. “Outside.” He jerked his head toward the door.
“Very well.” Wes patted Callie’s back before he released her and then followed his friend as they departed the room. The second they were outside, Fenn curled his hands into Wes’s collar and slammed him into the wall so hard the breath was knocked from his lungs.
“What the hell are you doing?” Fenn demanded, crashing him against the wall again.
Wes’s head collided with the wood-paneled walls and little black dots spotted his vision for a few seconds.
“What are you talking about?” He shoved at Fenn, but the other man had the advantage as he used his body to pin Wes to the wall.
“Callie. Are you sleeping with her?”
Wes’s own anger boiled to the surface. “If I am, it’s not your concern.”
“Like hell it isn’t!” Fenn spat.
Wes used Fenn’s distraction to punch the cowboy square in the jaw. He grunted and stumbled back, clutching his mouth.
“You broke her heart, Fenn,” Wes reminded him quietly. “I picked up the pieces and am protecting what’s mine.”
“She isn’t yours!” Fenn clenched his fists and licked his bleeding lip.
“She came to me and wanted me. I wanted her. We’ve been happy together.” He never thought he’d say that about any relationship with a woman, but he was happy.
“How long?” Fenn began to pace the hall, like a caged tiger. “How long until you lose interest and drop her? She’s not enough for you.”
Not enough? A ruby veil seemed to descend in front of his eyes and he tackled the other man. They crashed to the ground, knocking a vase off a nearby end table. The cacophony of noises that followed barely intruded on Wes and Fenn as they kicked and punched. Clothes ripped and blood splattered.
A booming voice cut through the din and hands grabbed him, throwing him off Fenn. “Enough!”
It took a few seconds for Wes to find himself again through the rage. Royce stood there, feet braced apart, his body an obstacle between them. In the garden doorway, Hayden and Callie stood there, gaping.
“What the fuck, guys?” Royce snapped as he glowered between Wes and Fenn.
Wes got to his feet, but stumbled and threw out a hand to catch himself against the wall as his vision cartwheeled. One too many blows to the head, he guessed. Dragging the back of his hand across his mouth, it came away streaked with blood from a split lip. If he hadn’t been so mad, he might have laughed. He and Fenn were fighting again, now about Callie.
Hayden helped Fenn to his feet but he growled at her when she tried to drag him away.
“We’re not done with this discussion, Thorne,” Fenn warned.
“You’re done.” Royce faced him, but his tone was low and cold. It was a dangerous side of Royce, one rarely seen. “Whatever is between you, deal with it. We’ve been through too much to put up with any more of this bullshit.” Royce fixed them both with a stare before he gestured to Fenn. “I need to talk to you.”
Wes didn’t linger. He needed to cool off and get away from Fenn. He stumbled more as he walked down the hall, picking one of the nearest rooms where he’d have a bit of privacy. The room he chose was a rarely used study, one that had become a graveyard for objects Royce had bought as gifts over the years from his exotic travels for digs.
An old leather sofa against one wall called his name. With a groan he eased onto the couch and wiped at his split lip again. The bitter taste of his blood made him wince, more from the acrid taste than the pain. The fight had been a mistake—he’d be the first to admit it—if necessary, but every time Fenn was around, Callie got hurt and Wes just couldn’t take it. She was his woman, and if he had to pummel his friend to protect her, then he’d do it. The study door creaked open and Callie peered around the edge.