His Wife

“You won’t even help me with my rent now that my father’s disowned me?”

“I happen to know you got this place for a song, and that you inherited your grandmother’s house free and clear.”

Brian blinked at Sawyer’s bald refusal. “What about my wounded sense of self-worth?”

“We’re all dealing with that one. You’ll just have to keep up.”

“You won’t even help me find a woman now that Killian has the only one I ever cared about?”

Brian was acquainted with Cordelia, Killian’s wife, since college, before she knew Killian. Because Brian’s family had always been in competition, businesswise, with the Abbotts, the children had grown up enemies. Brian had enjoyed flirting with Cordie to hurt Killian and civilities had been strained—until they’d learned Brian and the Abbotts were related.

“Ah. I may be willing to help you there. I do seem to have something that makes them flock to me.”

“It’s money,” Brian said, digging his keys out of his pocket.

“I thought it was charm and wit.”

“I’m sorry. It’s not. Come on, we’ll take my car to Yvonne’s.” Yvonne made the best fried clams in the Hamptons.

Sawyer climbed into Brian’s new black pickup. He’d traded in his Porsche for it as a sign of dedication to his new life. “Younger brothers,” he said, “are supposed to be respectful and blinded by hero worship.”

Brian grinned at him as he slid in behind the wheel. “You should have explained that to me before I agreed to this whole brother thing.” They roared away.

It was almost midnight by the time Sawyer got home. They’d put a coat of paint on three of the small boats Brian had acquired with the rental part of the business, then had a beer on the front porch before going their separate ways.

Sawyer had enjoyed Brian’s company, and was surprised by how connected he felt to him despite the lifetime spent at odds. And though he made light of it, he knew Brian had come to his rescue without hesitation that day on the water when Sawyer’s waterskiing stunt had gone wrong, and he would always feel indebted for that.

As Sawyer walked into the house, it was clear that someone was quarreling with someone else. One of the raised voices coming from the living room was male, the other female.

Winfield greeted Sawyer at the door. He was sort of a butler-bodyguard Campbell had hired last year, convinced their security was lax. Winfield was built like a tank, had a voice like a grinding motor and possessed a gentle nature completely at odds with his appearance.

“They’re at it again,” he said, closing the door.

“What are they fighting about?”

“Not sure. Anything and everything.”

“I’ll go see what I can do.”

Sawyer would have just let them have at it as Killian had advised when it was obvious, the day of China’s arrival at Shepherd’s Knoll, that the two were not going to get along. But if she was Abigail, and they’d been without her all this time, it was criminal that warfare should ensue when she’d finally been restored to them.

And if she wasn’t Abigail, then he was still in sympathy with her.

Campbell had voted against letting her stay until Chloe came home, convinced she was lying for purposes of her own, but Sawyer and Killian had outvoted him. That had happened a lot in his life because of their different personalities rather than their different mothers, but all Campbell knew was that he often lost to his elder brothers. This time, it seemed, he didn’t mind taking his frustrations out on China.

Sawyer found them standing toe-to-toe in the large living room. Campbell, tall and dark-haired, with Chloe’s milk-chocolate eyes and fine-boned face, had more of an air of aristocracy than did Killian and Sawyer combined. Add to that his sense of loss and his moody personality had all the stuff of a Gothic hero.

China, on the other hand, exuded cheerful practicality, and had little patience for the drama he brought to every moment. She was average in height, with a slender grace that reminded him of Chloe. Or it could be a simple femininity many women had in common.

Her long hair was caught at the back of her neck with a chased silver clip.

“I didn’t forget to take a message,” she was saying with hot annoyance as Sawyer approached them. “I told you! I put it with the stack of mail Kezia put aside for you on the hall table. If you lost it after that, it isn’t my fault.”

Campbell was pulled up to full-pride height, but maintained his cool flawlessly. Only Sawyer, who fought with him often, recognized the tight muscle in his jaw.

“Had you done that,” he said, “it would have been there when I picked up my mail.”

“Had you come home that night,” she retorted, “instead of partying, it might still have been there, instead of possibly blowing off when someone walked by or opened the door.”

“Maybe you should have put it in my hand, and not on top of my mail, so that it wouldn’t have blown off!” he said darkly. “I alerted everyone that I was expecting a call back from the Barrow estate and that it was important.”

“That would have required my being in your presence,” she snapped back, “and that’s usually a regrettable experience!”

“Whoa!” Sawyer caught her arm as she would have stormed off. “I happen to know that Kezia put that message on your computer keyboard,” he said to Campbell, “because she knew how important it was to you. But you never close your door against Versace.”

Versace was Cordie’s cat, left in their care while she and Killian were second-honeymooning. He was fat and gray, his long coat making him look the size of a spaniel. He was also mean-tempered, and spent long hours on the porch swing since Cordie had been gone. “I’ve seen him sleeping on your desk more than once. He might have knocked it off. Check under and around the desk.”

“Thank you,” Campbell said grudgingly.

“Sure.”

To China, Campbell said with what seemed to require superhuman effort, considering the way he squared his shoulders and drew a breath, “I’m sorry.”

“Oh, you are not,” she disputed. “I have tried to be polite, but you resent me, and now I’m not wild about the thought that we could be related, either. Let’s just agree to dislike each other. I’m comfortable with that.”

Campbell shook his head at Sawyer. “This can’t be the little sister we’ve missed all these years.”

Sawyer had to smile at that. “You don’t really know what it’s like to have a younger sibling because we didn’t have her very long. But however you’ve idealized that relationship, what you two are experiencing now is much closer to reality. Younger siblings are always making your life difficult.”

Campbell turned to China with an aggrieved expression. “Heaven help me.”

She muttered a scornful sound. “I think you’re looking for help in the wrong direction. Good night, Sawyer.” She stalked off toward the stairs.

Campbell groaned as though he’d taken all he could take. “It would be so satisfying to hit her on the head with a Tonka truck.”

Sawyer thought it interesting that he’d said that because he and baby Abigail had fought over just that the day she’d disappeared. He knew Campbell remembered because he’d mentioned it once or twice. Abby had crawled into his room, and while he was usually patient with her, he’d been in a mood that day and had yanked his truck away from her when she’d tried to play with it. Chloe had removed her, scolding Campbell for not being more understanding.

Abby had returned later that afternoon and he’d put her bodily in the hallway and closed the door in her face.

“While you could have gotten away with that at five and a half,” Sawyer warned, “you’d be in a lot of trouble these days if you behaved that way. And I wouldn’t want to make her really mad. Your mother’s ancestors sailed with Lafitte, remember?”

“I have the same blood,” Campbell reminded him. “I’m a match for her. God, she’s all attitude.”

“I suppose it’s hard to be agreeable with someone when you know he hates you.”

“I don’t hate her,” Campbell was quick to deny. “I just don’t like her—a lot.”

Sawyer couldn’t help but ask. “Why is that, anyway?”