Page 14

A bumble bee buzzed over his hand and the smell of the wild roses in the bed below drifted past his nose.

He inhaled deeply. Summer was just around the corner and soon he’d be immersed in the fast-paced game.

Polo meant sore muscles and injuries, suntanned skin, and charging across fields on an ultra-responsive pony that enjoyed the game as much as he did.

God, he loved it. But he didn’t know how much longer he could compete at this level.

At thirty-five, he was getting on, and his muscles ached more than they used to.

The thought of life without polo used to scare the shit out of him, but not so much now, not anymore.

He’d played for his country for years, had made a ton of money off the sport and had lifted trophies all across the globe.

No, retirement didn’t bother him anymore, especially if he could spend more time in his workshop, with the odd trip to buy horses for Troyden, or coaching the newbies and playing the odd match for fun.

Maybe this season, or maybe the next, would be his last…

He heard the sound of footsteps, looked into the pretty, feminine sunroom, and watched Troyden and Eden move toward him, a cinnamon bun in Troyden’s hand.

Over her head, his eyes met Jed’s and he saw the ‘what’s this about?

’ question on his face. Jed simply raised one shoulder and Troyden continued to eat his pastry.

When Troyden stepped outside, Eden slapped her fists on her hips and lifted her slightly pointy, utterly stubborn chin. ‘Please tell this cretin why I am here, Troyden,’ she asked with excruciating politeness and a heap of ‘fuck you’.

Where was she going with this?

Troyden swallowed his last bite, dusted his hands and slid his hands into the pockets of his linen trousers. ‘Are you sure about that?’ he asked Eden, frowning. ‘When I invited you to move in, you said you didn’t want anyone to know.’

She sent him a hot glare. ‘Oh, that was because I never imagined I would be mistaken for a gold-digger,’ she said, her voice tight.

‘Ah, damn. I didn’t think about that.’ Troyden glanced at him and Jed caught the amusement in his eyes. Oh, Troyden was enjoying himself immensely. Jed loved him, but he could, on occasion, be an arsehole.

‘Just tell him, Troyden,’ Eden stated, annoyed.

‘Eden is my niece, my brother’s daughter.’

What?

‘I uploaded my DNA onto a genealogical website that connects long-lost family members,’ Troyden explained. ‘Eden was my only hit.’

Jed rubbed his jaw, struggling to make sense of his words. Eden wasn’t Troyden’s lover or girlfriend?

No, this had to be bullshit. His deeply cynical outlook reasserted itself and he decided this was too good to be true.

‘And I presume you’ve done additional tests to make sure she is who she says she is?

’ he demanded, unconvinced by Troyden’s blithe explanation.

‘Surely you’re not just going to take the website’s word for it, her word for it? ’

‘Hey!’ Eden protested.

‘It’s a reputable site,’ Troyden calmly replied. ‘But because I’m not a total idiot, I did ask for additional testing. An independent lab confirmed we are related.’ Troyden touched Eden’s shoulder. ‘But I didn’t need the tests. As soon as I saw her, I knew: she looks just like my younger brother.’

Jed recalled the photograph of the Castle brothers in Troyden’s study.

If he looked past their different eyes and colouring, he could see the subtle resemblance between Eden and Troyden.

It was in their smile, the way they both lifted their chin when pissed.

He closed his eyes and dropped his head. Right… fuck .

Troyden had a niece? A blood relative? And he couldn’t help feeling hurt– juvenile, but still– that Troyden had been looking for more family. Weren’t he, Mick, Kael and Alistair enough? Was blood really that important? It hadn’t been to the Duke…

‘So, I’ll take that apology now.’

Jed blinked at the steel-hard voice and opened his eyes to see Eden tapping her foot. He wasn’t the type of guy who took orders, so he simply looked at her. It was galling to admit that, in her position, he’d demand an apology too. But that didn’t mean one would easily roll off his tongue.

‘You accused me of being a gold-digger.’ Her words held all the outrage of a Victorian maiden who’d been asked to join a threesome. In his defence, there was precedent and he hadn’t conjured the possibility out of the ether.

He jerked his head in Troyden’s direction. ‘He keeps bringing them home. I try to scare them away. Some run; some stay.’

Eden looked at Troyden. ‘Is that true?’ she demanded.

He shrugged, not fazed. ‘I’m afraid so. I’m an eternal optimist, and I’m looking for love.’

‘Maybe start looking for love with someone a little more your age, for a change, and you might have some luck.’

Troyden simply grinned. ‘I only seem to meet younger-than-me women.’

‘No, they approach you and your ego likes them fawning over you,’ Jed snapped.

Eden looked outraged. ‘Don’t talk to him like that! He deserves some respect from you.’

Oh, he respected the hell out of Troyden, and loved him as much as his stunted and battered heart could, but Jed and his other sibs saw Troyden clearly.

And they weren’t the type of family that pulled their punches.

They called it straight, every single time.

Eden would have to get used to that if she wanted to find a place for herself within their ranks.

But Jed had no intention of letting her claim any ground.

Ever. At all. Partly because he was stupidly attracted to her; partly because he was smart enough to know that just because she was Troyden’s niece didn’t mean she wasn’t standing here looking for a payout, or a way to leverage the situation to her advantage, lay her hands on her uncle’s cash, and write herself into the will.

Outrage in the face of being pegged as a gold-digger was a clever move, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still trying to scam Troyden.

Instead of using the girlfriend card, she could now use the ‘ I’m your only blood family, please spoil me ’ card.

Knowing Troyden, he’d crumble like a wave-doused sandcastle.

God, he was a suspicious bastard. But that didn’t mean he was wrong.

‘I couldn’t find you on social media.’

She jerked, just enough to deepen his suspicions.

‘Is that a crime?’

Her reply was quiet and calm, but he sensed her irritation. ‘You’re elusive,’ he pushed, wanting to see her crack. ‘Who are you really? What are you hiding?’

‘Why do you care? And who appointed you as Elmsleigh’s interrogator?’

Most women would be sounding pissed right now, a bit screechy. But Eden simply held his hard stare, refusing to back down. He was taller, bigger, fiercer, but she didn’t seem intimidated. And hell, he liked that about her.

Dammit.

As long as she kept standing in front of him, looking mutinous, he’d push for more. ‘Where do you live? Do you have other family? What do you do for work?’

Eden looked at Troyden who simply shook his head. ‘Jed is mule-stubborn and as persistent as hell,’ he said, his deep sigh lifting his shoulders. ‘I’d tell him to stop hassling you but he’s not going to listen to me. Just ignore him.’

‘I would if he’d get out of my face,’ Eden muttered. She bunched her fists and placed them on her hips. ‘Do you want me to send you a copy of my CV?’

He didn’t hesitate. ‘Yes, I would.’

‘I was being sarcastic, you berk!’ Finally, a tiny crack, a hitch in her voice.

‘I’m not.’

‘I’m not sending you my CV!’ Eden half-shouted. ‘I didn’t even give it to Troyden.’

Why not? Jed’s narrowed eyes flickered to Troyden, who was dusting sugar off his shirt. ‘For the record, I think that’s a mistake.’

‘For the record, noted,’ Troyden replied.

Eden snapped her fingers and Jed returned his attention to her. Impatience flickered in her eyes.

‘I’m still waiting.’ For what? When he lifted his eyebrows, she waved her finger between his chest and hers. ‘My apology.’

Not happening. ‘Then you’re going to be standing here for a while, sweetheart .’

Anger flashed in her eyes, and they turned an icy blue. ‘I am not, and never will be, your sweetheart!’

Her words slashed through him, and Jed swallowed, conscious of the regret crashing over his head.

Why did he feel disappointed at her rejoinder?

Why did her words cut through layers of cynicism and distrust to slice into his soul?

He didn’t allow a woman’s compliments to turn his head, and on the rare occasion he pissed someone off– usually because he couldn’t or wouldn’t commit to anything longer than a one-night stand– he ignored the bitchy comments and complaints.

But Eden’s words, a trite phrase said in anger, slashed and burned.

Luckily, he was saved from responding by the sound of a deep-throated engine in the distance. He turned and lifted his hand to block off the glare of the sun, not recognising the matt-black, top-of-the-range Range Rover powering its way up the long drive. He looked at Troyden. ‘Expecting someone?’

Troyden shook his head. ‘No. I don’t recognise the car. Do you?’

Jed pushed his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, watching as the car disappeared from view, heading for the front of the house.

The engine cut, probably in front of the double staircase leading up to the imposing front door.

The visitor was a stranger. Friends used the kitchen door to access the house.

They heard the distant peal of the old doorbell.

Diana would open the door and question the visitor.

In five minutes, she’d have the reason for his unannounced visit, his life history and possibly his bank account details.

Diana’s grandmother was French, in the Resistance, and had passed her not-impressed-by-anything-or-anyone attitude on to her granddaughter.

The last person he expected to follow Di into the sunroom and onto the deck was Henry, the Baby Duke. His half-brother.