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Jilly stopped by to accept the invitation. What she saw was a house buzzing with activity. Graydon’s constant calls and video con
versations with his brother ruled their lives.
“Right now, Graydon is prince and king and even the queen,” Toby told Jilly. “It’s just that he’s doing it all through Rory.”
“And Graydon can do that from here?” Jilly asked.
“Oh, yes. We help him, of course, but he manages.” Toby told Graydon’s aunt about his idea of strapping a phone to Rory’s cast and sending text messages. Another time Graydon spoke to a Russian businessman directly on the phone and suggested that, for privacy, they speak English when they were together in person. “Russian is one of the six languages Graydon speaks,” Toby said.
“I had no idea he was so accomplished.”
“Graydon can do most anything,” Toby said without a hint of humor.
“Can he?” Jilly asked, trying not to laugh.
When the back door opened and Graydon came inside, Toby jumped up to meet him in the kitchen. He’d been outside with Daire, the two men attacking each other with their heavy swords.
“Your aunt is here,” Jilly heard Toby say, “and you are a sweaty mess.”
“Since when don’t you like that?” Toby’s giggle could be heard from the hall. When Toby returned to the living room, one side of her face was damp and red from what looked to be whisker burn. Jilly stood up. “We’ll see you on Saturday at seven,” she said and left. She was frowning. It looked like someone was going to get her—or his—heart broken.
During the week, Toby put Lorcan and Daire together more often. She had no idea that what she was doing would cause her and Graydon’s first real argument.
Since Lorcan had said that Daire liked history, Toby soon figured out that all she had to do was mess up the plans and Daire would take over. She proposed a menu for the dinner that looked like a New Age fusion meal. She said she was especially pleased with her idea of using lemongrass.
Daire told her she was an idiot, then apologized. Toby, in false anger, told him that if he didn’t like her ideas, he could come up with the menu. She walked out the back door, slamming it just hard enough that she didn’t endanger the old panes of glass.
Graydon was gracefully moving about the garden as he jabbed his heavy sword into the air. “What are you up to?” he asked.
“Nothing interesting. I’m going to water the greenhouse.”
“I already did. Get the wraps and you can do some punching and tell me what you’ve done to Daire.”
There was no talking during boxing, certainly not the way Graydon did it. He showed her how to duck the big pad that he directed at her face. When she forgot, he tapped her head. “Hit me again and I’ll make you sorry,” she said.
“Is that a promise?”
She tried to punch him, but he easily sidestepped her every move. After an hour, he wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her back to his front and kissed her neck.
“What are you up to with Daire?” he asked as he let her go and began pulling off her gloves and unwrapping her hands.
“He’s going to plan the menu for the dinner party.”
“And what is Lorcan to do?”
“I have no idea,” Toby said innocently, but when Graydon kept staring at her, she broke. “How long has Lorcan been in love with Daire?”
“The three of us are a team and we work well together. They are not ‘in love,’ ” Graydon said in a patronizing tone.
She looked at him in astonishment. “Can you honestly tell me that you’ve never seen anything between them? She is in love with him. Why are you frowning so hard?”
“Daire is my cousin. His father is a duke and his ancestor was a king.”
“I’m sure Lorcan can be persuaded to overlook his flaws.” Toby was making an American joke about equality—but Graydon didn’t stop frowning. “I see,” Toby said. “Kings don’t soil themselves by marrying commoners. Tell me, do you guys still have affairs with people like us?”
She started to walk away but he caught her arm.
“Toby, I know that none of this makes sense to you, but this is the way it’s been in my country for centuries.”
