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“Miss Ryan…Daphne—” Richard began impatiently.
I lifted a finger but kept looking at my phone. “A second. There we go. ‘Besotted. Strongly infatuated. Archaic: Intoxicated. Drunk. From late sixteenth century, make foolishly affectionate.’” I raised my head, skimmed a glance through Richard and then twisted back to Ian. “You’re right. It’s not what it seems to be.”
“I know I’m right, darling,” Ian purred.
I felt that purr in my mouth.
And other places.
Jesus.
This guy.
I felt a wave of emotion, not the good kind, come tumbling at me from Richard’s direction when he heard Ian’s endearment.
I turned again to him.
Indeed, he didn’t like Ian calling me darling.
I fought smiling and kept speaking.
“I’m going to need to be certain about Daniel’s true feelings and his commitment to my sister. And I’m going to need this not only because I love my sister, but because my father did, and he trusted this to me. Now, in full disclosure, if she messes things up for a long haul, say, marrying someone who wants her for her money, then she doesn’t get that money. Ever. It’s absorbed into mine and Lou’s trusts. She doesn’t even get a stipend. She’s cut off. Completely.”
Richard blanched.
“Thus, this bullshit play that’s happening,”—I whirled a finger in the air—“I’m not having it. Someone needs to tell Daniel to get his ass home and bring my sister with him. It’s beyond rude they dragged Lou and I here then took off to regroup when things started off rocky. I have a life. I have a business. I have people who count on me. They’re talented. Beyond competent, they can carry on without me. However, I love my work, and when I decide it’s one of those rare times I’m going to leave it, I don’t want to be jacked around like I’m a fool. I’m not a fool, Richard. I’m my father’s daughter. And for more than one reason, it’s time your son, the second one, stopped treating me like one.”
On that, with Richard’s face red with fury, I turned on my heel and walked to Ian.
“Are you coming to breakfast?” I asked when I stopped.
He took my hand. “Absolutely.” We walked down the hall, and he didn’t bother waiting until we were completely out of earshot before he said, “Well done.”
“It was bitchy,” I replied, beginning to feel bad I’d been so frank, and done it being so curt.
I probably should have found Richard after I had coffee.
“He would have disregarded you entirely if you’d been polite,” Ian shared. “As he has been for the most part since you arrived. Disregarding you. He agreed to you being here. You’re our guest. I’ve seen how he’s been acting toward you. It’s beyond rude. You have no responsibility to be nice to someone who’s being rude.”
Well, if you completely disregarded the most important rule of all, the Golden Rule, he was right.
But I made a note not to confront my host again, or at least not for the rest of that day.
Ian yanked on my hand, effectively stopping both of us.
I looked up at him.
His eyes scanned my face.
“Did you sleep?” he asked.
Great.
Apparently, I looked as shit as I felt.
“I’m having some bad dreams.”
He tugged on my hand, and I hurried to keep up with him as he started prowling toward the servant’s stairs all the while growling, “We’re moving you out of that fucking room.”
