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It startled a wave of amusement out of Marguerite. "I appreciate every weapon I can get," she agreed. "His wife?"
"Oh. " The light went out of the housekeeper's eyes and she looked toward the picture. A frown marred her brow and she stepped past Marguerite to straighten the runner on the dresser that Tyler had apparently knocked off kilter when he laid the stack of scripts there. "Mr. Winterman's wife was a dancer, an extraordinary one.
European. Very. . . fragile. Temperamental. All the things you've heard about prima ballerinas - with her, they were true. But she loved him so much, depended on him so much. He. . . " She paused, as if reconsidering her decision to speak.
"He. . . " Marguerite prompted. She knew she was prying, encouraging the woman when she shouldn't, but in the past twelve hours Tyler had spun her on her axis. It seemed she'd been in retreat mode the whole time. She wanted to know more about him. While she knew the hazards of that desire, she was too far into the danger zone now to back away from a little additional knowledge. And while she could rationalize and tell herself it was to increase her arsenal of defenses, she wanted to know him.
Those shadows in his eyes at bre
akfast had bothered her.
Sarah folded her hands before her. "He wasn't always in the career field he's in now. He worked for the government. He left active duty some time ago, though I think he still does some work for them occasionally, mostly out of Washington. When he worked for them full time, he was assigned to Panama during that terrible time with Noriega. He was also involved in the Gulf War. When he came back from those conflicts, something had happened. You could tell from his eyes he saw things the rest of us didn't ever want to see. I thank God for men and women like him who are willing to see it and take care of it so the rest of us don't have to do so. But a part of him was shattered. He needed. . . he needed a woman's understanding and love, because he was in a very bad place in his heart. And she had always depended on him emotionally. " The housekeeper's glance shifted away briefly. "They had the type of relationship you often see in this house. "
A submissive. Of course. So Tyler's Dominant side had been a part of him so long it had even been part of his marriage.
"She didn't know how to help him, couldn't even understand it. " Sarah shook her head. "It broke my heart to watch them. She thought that he should just be able to be home, watch her dance and that would make his heart happy again. Two years later she left him, confused. He let her go, too heartsick to help her find him again because he couldn't find himself. As I said, she was a fragile creature. It took him about eighteen months after that, after she went back to Europe, but he straightened things out for himself and went after her. "
"They never. . . "
"No. " Sarah stroked a hand over the bed, as if she touched the man who slept there, her hazel eyes sad, loving. "He never divorced her, you see. And she never asked for one. But before he could reconcile with her, she killed herself. Right after a stunning performance of Swan Lake where the troupe was called back for five curtain calls. They said it was the most poignant dancing she'd ever done. When her Odette died, there wasn't a dry eye in the entire theater. "
"Dear Goddess. " The words were spoken before Marguerite could think to hold them back. "Tyler. . . What did he do?"
"He buried her, mourned her and picked up the pieces. I thought for a while he'd never reach out to a woman again. But after about three years he started having lady guests. "
"Like Leila. "
The housekeeper didn't look surprised that she knew about Leila. But if Tyler held D/s parties here regularly, there probably wasn't much about Tyler's current or past relationships that startled her. Yet she had called Tyler a gentleman and meant it.
Which meant Sarah was an extraordinary housekeeper. Or she worked for an extraordinary man, a sly whisper from her subconscious that Marguerite chose to ignore.
"Miss Leila was a good thing for his heart. She laughs so easily and enjoys the types of things Mr. Winterman enjoys. " Again that tactful wording. "She was a strong woman. I guess. . . " a faint blush tinged her cheeks. "I thought all women who did that type of thing were like Mrs. Winterman. Somewhat dependent, needy. I realized then that it was just a part of Mrs. Winterman.
"We all have our ghosts that haunt us. " Her gaze went to another photograph, this one on the wall. It was a photo from what Marguerite now guessed was Panama. A soldier surrounded by children, reaching up for candy. "Sometimes when I come in and see him sitting on that landing, I know he's been sitting there half the night, watching the water, waiting for the sun come up. He's managed to heal himself, but it was a near thing. He put the pieces back together by himself. And most people couldn't have done that. "
After a moment of silence between the two women, Marguerite spoke. "No, they couldn't. Thank you, Sarah. I appreciate your honesty. And I promise, regardless of what Tyler and I inflict on each other, I'll try not to use the things you've told me to hurt him. "
Sarah gestured, letting Marguerite precede her from the room. As she closed the door, she paused with her hand on the knob. "Miss Perruquet, regardless of the instructions Mr. Winterman left me, I didn't plan to tell you such personal things about him. "
"So why did you?"
"I'm not sure. " The housekeeper considered Marguerite. Marguerite was thankful she kept her eyes on her face, not on the rather revealing outfit. "I just felt it was the right thing to do. "
After that surprising statement Sarah led Marguerite out of the room, down the stairs and back through the kitchen. "The tennis courts are out this entrance. Just follow the path through the gardens and you'll see them below the pool house. Mr. Winterman also told me to give you this note to take with you. " She handed Marguerite a folded piece of heavy, cream-colored stationery from the kitchen table. "He said to read it when you reached the orchid area. You'll recognize it. There's a small greenhouse for the more exotic ones. He has the hardier species planted in a bed just beside it. You'll also find a statue of Aphrodite there and a fountain pool with koi fish. Now, you and Mr. Winterman be sure to come back in for lunch soon. I'm making up chocolate chip cookies for dessert and snacks. You'll know they're ready because you can smell them all the way into the gardens. It usually brings Robert in, no matter how far afield he's wandered. "
Marguerite nodded, not sure whether to be amused or disturbed at the dichotomy, a motherly admonishment offered as she stepped out in a tennis outfit that hardly covered her bare ass.
The gardens were Southern landscaping at its finest, foliage arranged in artful wild clusters of white and deep fuchsia azaleas, oleanders, ginger plants with salmon-colored, pink and yellow fragrant blossoms. Everything carefully planted and arranged to look natural and yet not cluttered. And throughout the garden was one of the most amazing collections of bronze statuary she'd ever seen. A lone soldier. A dog lying down, asleep. Dancers. So many dancers, slender bodies reaching, stretching, appearing as if they danced for the joy of the sun-drenched day and the flowers around them.
The care lavished on his property, not as an absent landlord throwing around money but as a man who enjoyed living here, who desired and perhaps needed a sanctuary more than most, was obvious. She pictured him sitting on the bench she sank down on now, a book in hand, studying his orchids, opening up the top of the greenhouse to sift their soil in his hands or bending to examine the ones in the outdoor bed. It would all seem like a Cary Grant cliche except she'd already seen the shift of the waters, the flashes of temperament, wells of sorrow, glints of humor sparkling.
The bench was in the shadow of a life-sized bronze statue of Aphrodite as Sarah had noted, ruling in queenly serenity over a pool sprinkled with floating lilies and containing gold and silver koi. After a moment of study, Marguerite opened her note.
He'd scented the paper with orange peel fragrance and done the script in calligraphy.
The note had been sealed with a brown wax like chocolate. Lifting it to her nose, she confirmed that it smelled like chocolate. The stem of a tiny lavender wildflower had been captured in the wax, a flower from breakfast. She shook her head, thinking a man this practiced in seduction should be labeled a dangerous weapon to protect any woman within twenty yards of him.
I can see you from my office. Put your hand beneath your skirt and play with your pussy for me. Distract me enough and you may have half a chance of scoring one game on me.
