Silver Falls - Anne Stuart [60]
“That’s nice,” David said, waiting for her slower, more reluctant approach. “I knew she’d like the old man if she took the time to get to know him.”
She still wasn’t taking the time. She was over to one side, talking to Caleb a mile a minute, while Stephen Henry sat in state by the gas fire, a glass of whiskey in his hand.
The room looked welcoming for a change, with the artificial fire burning. Every light was turned on, filling the space with a cool glow. Even the Mayan death masks on the wall, which usually creeped her out, seemed suddenly benevolent. She never could figure out why David even had them, though admittedly they went well with the austere interior and the geometric lines of the room and the furniture.
Stephen Henry was already holding forth. “I hope you don’t mind, my boy, but I asked Caleb to help himself. You wouldn’t begrudge your da a drop of the finest, now would you?”
He was doing his Irish poet thing now, Rachel thought, dismayed. And then his eyes caught Rachel’s, and she could see the same, inexplicable warning that had been there earlier in the day.
She must have imagined it, because a moment later it was gone. “Come sit beside me, Rachel,” Stephen Henry commanded. “I had Caleb bring me over since it had been so long since I’d seen dear Sophie, but like most women she’s already smitten with the black sheep of the family. I don’t know how he does it.”
“Sophie.” Rachel raised her voice. “Come here and talk to Stephen Henry. You haven’t seen him in ages.”
Sophie rose immediately, good manners a second nature to her. Stephen Henry would never guess that her daughter found him infinitely creepy, but Caleb clearly had a pretty good idea.
“You go entertain Caleb, Rachel,” Stephen Henry said grandly as Sophie sat near him, just out of reach. “You two are practically strangers, and now that he’s decided to rejoin the family you should get to know each other. I promise you he’s not nearly as wicked as he pretends to be.”
“Isn’t he?” Rachel said in a neutral voice. David had taken a seat beside Sophie, and for a moment she thought she saw her daughter stiffen. But a moment later she laughed at something Stephen Henry said, totally at ease.
She could make an excuse, go in search of coffee or dessert or anything to make this unexpected visit go as planned. But Caleb was watching her, and she could still hear the challenge in his voice. David was watching her as well—if she refused everyone would make a big deal out of it, when it was nothing more than a slight aversion to the man.
Who was she kidding? She had an aversion to how she reacted to Caleb, and that wasn’t precisely his fault. Though he seemed to be doing his best to manipulate her.
“Can I get anyone coffee?” she asked brightly. “Something to drink?”
“We’re fine, Rachel,” David said, as if talking to a stubborn child. “Go talk with Caleb while my father and I catch up on Sophie’s last few days.”
It shouldn’t have bothered her so much, leaving her in the company of the two men. She’d be five feet away, watching them all the time. This was the man she loved and trusted, the man she married, the man she intended to eventually be the legal father to her daughter. Just not right now.
As for Stephen Henry, he was nothing more than a self-important pain in the ass, and even if he had wandering hands Rachel would be watching, and she wouldn’t hesitate to clobber him with the nearby fire poker if he did anything inappropriate.
“Sit down, Rachel.” Caleb’s voice was full of amusement. “I promise you, I’ll kill the old man myself if he touches her.” She looked at him for a long moment before taking a seat just out of reach, shielded from her husband by the back of the chair. “And I’m wondering just why you’d think he would?”
“Why would you think he would?” she said.
“Because you’re watching him like a chicken hawk. Or are you just looking for excuses not to talk to me?”
She turned back to him. He was wearing the worn leather jacket that would be an affront to David’s nothing-with-a-face