Sean moved to the edge of the bed and raked his hands through his hair. "Yeah, I guess so."

"Give Miss Laurel a few hours to cool down. She can be a very determined woman and when she has her mind set on something, she doesn't let anything get in her way, including her impulsive nature. Or a crusty old gentleman who cares more about his stamps than his niece. Or a handsome young man pretending to be her husband."

Sean smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Alistair." He picked up the silver cover on one of the plates and inhaled the scent of another Irish breakfast. "If I ever get rich, I'm going to hire a butler just like you. I don't know how I ever got along without you."

Alistair nodded, clearly pleased by the compliment. "Thank you, sir."

Chapter 6

The sun was high in the sky and the weather warm. Laurel stood at the deep end of the pool and stared into the sparkling water, then sucked in a deep breath. She pushed off the edge and dove cleanly into the water, then stroked toward the shallow end. After two laps, she flipped over onto her back and stared up at the sky.

Her mind rewound to the argument she'd had with Sean earlier that morning. It had been so silly and petty. Maybe she'd been a little tired or felt a little vulnerable, but whatever had caused her response didn't matter. She'd sounded shrewish and ungrateful.

By day, she and Sean were supposed to act like husband and wife. But last night, they'd become lovers. And though she'd paid him for the former, she was getting the later free. If they were lovers, then he had every right to question her motives.

From the start, Laurel knew the growing intimacy they shared was dangerous. The moment he'd stepped into the shower, they'd tossed aside inhibition and hesitation and indulged in a passion that possessed them both. And though she barely knew Sean, she knew enough to want him above anything else.

When he'd looked into her eyes as they'd made love, she'd seen something there-a man she was fast falling in love with. He was passionate and completely irresistible. He was sweet and strong and dependable, the qualities most women would choose in a husband. But he was also flawed, holding himself at a distance when he felt vulnerable.

Laurel knew a troubled childhood had left him wary and distrustful. But when they were together, all of that fell away and he became everything she'd never known she'd wanted. She kicked to the other end of the pool, then braced her arms on the edge.

Caught in some strange limbo, she found herself pulled between a make-believe life that made her happy and a real life that was growing increasingly more complicated. Uncle Sinclair still hadn't mentioned her trust fund, even though, to his eyes, she and "Edward" had been married for more than two weeks.

Still, Laurel hadn't made a point of bringing up the subject herself. She knew as soon as Sinclair turned the money over to her, her time with Sean would come to an end. She didn't want it to be over yet. Perhaps he didn't have a place in her future, but, for now, she needed him in her present-and that was enough.

Laurel kicked beneath the water and sank to the bottom of the pool. When she looked up through the water, she saw a figure standing next to the pool. Sean had left earlier without saying a word to her. He'd told Alistair he'd probably be back for lunch, but Laurel hadn't wanted to question the butler further. Anxious to make amends with her make-believe husband, she pushed off from the bottom of the pool and broke the surface of the water.

But Alistair stood at the edge of the water, holding a stack of thick towels. "May I get you some lunch, Miss Laurel? It's past noon."

Laurel pulled herself up out of the pool and took one of the towels. "I thought I'd wait for Sean-" She paused, then quickly corrected herself. "Edward. I want to wait for Edward."

Alistair smiled. "Mr. Sean called and said he wouldn't be home for lunch. He needed to see his family."

She stared at him, her mouth agape. "You know?"

"There isn't much that goes on in this house that I don't know about," he said. "I know about your ex-fiancé, Edward, and I can't say that I'm upset that he's been arrested. And I know why you were so anxious to get married. I'm not one to offer an opinion about your personal life, but I like Mr. Sean. He's a very dependable man."

Laurel smiled hesitantly. "I like him, too."

"You seem very happy together."

"We are. I didn't expect to like him so much."

"I think he likes you, too," Alistair said.

"Did he tell you that?"

"He doesn't have to say it, Miss Laurel. Mr. Sean is a man of very few words. His actions do most of the talking."

"We had a fight this morning."

"I gathered that."

"It was stupid. I said some things that I didn't mean. I wish I could do something to make it up to him."

"I think he'll forgive you," Alistair said.

She took another towel from his hands and dried her hair, then sat at the edge of the pool. Laurel patted the concrete beside her. "Sit with me," she said. Alistair spread a towel at his feet and sat. "You have to take off your shoes and your socks."

"Miss, I don't think that would be proper."

Laurel rolled her eyes, then reached over and tugged off his gleaming black oxfords. Alistair removed his own socks and carefully rolled up his trousers.

"Put them in," she said, dangling her own legs into the water.

The butler did as she ordered and as soon as his feet dipped into the pool, he smiled. "Well, that's lovely," Alistair said. "Quite refreshing."

"Sinclair would have a fit if he saw you," Laurel teased. "He's such a fuddy-duddy sometimes."

"He loves you very much, Miss Laurel."

She froze. "Sean?"

"No, your uncle."

Laurel forced a laugh, embarrassed by her assumption. "He does not! He enjoys making my life as difficult as possible."

"He's afraid if he gives you the money, you'll leave and he'll never see you again."

"How do you know that?"

"I've worked in this house since before your mother came to live here twenty-seven years ago. I've kept my eyes open."

"And what have you seen?"

Alistair paused before he spoke, as if he was trying to decide how much he wanted to reveal. "I was there the night your father met your mother. Sinclair and Stewart were in New York, and the night before, Sinclair had gone to see a musical play in which your mother was appearing. He was so captivated by her performance, it was all he could talk about."

"Sinclair?" Laurel asked.

Alistair nodded. "The next night, he went back to the theater, only he brought Stewart with him for moral support. Sinclair was determined to introduce himself to your mother. They waited at the stage door and when she appeared, he stepped up and asked her to accompany them to dinner. And at that dinner, your mother fell head over heals in love-with your father."

"Poor Sinclair," Laurel murmured.

"I don't know that he ever stopped loving your mother. All the time she lived here with Stewart, after she gave birth to you, and after she died, Sinclair was always in love with her. But he couldn't say anything. It wouldn't have been proper or prudent."

"And that's why he doesn't like me," Laurel said. "Because I'm Stewart's daughter and-"

"Oh, no, not so," Alistair said. "I think you look so much like your mother that he sees her every time he looks at you. He sees the love he lost. That's why he both pushes you away and keeps you close."

Tears stung the corners of Laurel's eyes. "I thought he hated me," she murmured. "I guess I was wrong."

"If he knew I told you this, he would sack me without a second thought. But I thought it was time you understood why your uncle does what he does."

Laurel stared into the water, sunlight glinting off the surface, the tile mosaic creating a swirl of color below. "And will he ever understand why I do what I do?"

"Give him a chance, Miss Laurel. It may take time, but I believe he'll come around."

Laurel slipped her hands around Alistair's arm and gave it a hug. "Maybe I should go talk to Uncle Sinclair."

"I think you have other fences to mend first… with your husband."

"But if I explain to Uncle Sinclair and-"

"Oh, no," Alistair said, shaking his head. "In my opinion, I think it's best to keep all your options open. Your little charade might just work to your advantage."

Laurel frowned. If Uncle Sinclair truly loved her, then there had to be a way to convince him of her plans for her trust fund. Why would Alistair want her to continue her sham of a marriage? She pushed the question from her mind. Alistair was the only person in the world she could truly trust, so maybe it was best to listen.

"Mr. Sinclair and I are leaving this afternoon for New York," Alistair said. "Perhaps you could prepare a lovely dinner for your husband and smooth things out between you two."

"I'm not a very good cook," Laurel said.

"Ah, but I'm a very good instructor."

Laurel threw her arms around Alistair's neck. "And you're a good friend, too."

He blinked, his eyes growing misty. "Thank you, Miss Laurel. I'm touched."

She got to her feet and held out her hand to help him stand. "I think we better get started in the kitchen. This may be a long afternoon."


* * *

The house on Beacon Street was bustling with activity when Sean arrived. His sister, Keely, and her husband, Rafe, had been renovating it for the past month and planned to move in before Thanksgiving. Contractors' vans were parked on the narrow street and equipment and materials had been stacked on the sidewalk outside.