2. Kinsley

2

KINSLEY

Three days after the funeral, the rain continues to fall. The gardens have turned into fields of mud, and even the long driveway has puddles. My grand home looks gothic surrounded by the dark clouds and rain, but in the sun, it is beautiful. I’ve always found the house to be too spacious for our small family. The house once bustled with numerous servants, but that was before my time and before my father’s as well. Grandfather used to tell me about the garden parties his mother hosted when he was six. Sadly, not long after that, there was a war. He said most of the servants left and took up arms for their country—mostly the men, but some of the women did too, I guess.

Sighing, I consider my predicament. Tiberius is a strange man and has the power to unnerve me. I think back to my younger years but can’t really put my finger on when I started to feel that way. Maybe it had more to do with my father being unsettled around his brother than anything else. I must have picked up on his unease and let it affect me. However, Tiberius does nothing to help dispel those feelings around him. I think he enjoys it. I’m not like my father, though. I won’t let the man push me around. I may have been showing weakness since my parents died, but no more. I’m not a little moth who needs nurturing. I’m nearly eighteen years old but feel older.

If I’m honest with myself, there is a slither of happiness within me that I will no longer be held prisoner in my home. My parents were afraid of something in the months leading to their deaths and had kept me home with a private tutor. I don’t miss the city, but I do miss going into town, even if it is only for a cup of coffee while I watch the world go by. It’s better than being locked up inside the Lake House.

I press a hand to my stomach, trying to quell the bundle of nerves that suddenly rises as I watch a large black car appear through the trees along the driveway. The wheels kick up muddy water as Tiberius brings the beast to a stop close to the front entrance. Another car, this one silver and sleek, pulls in beside the black one. The man has arrived, along with my parents’ attorney.

Tiberius climbs from the driver’s side of the car, while another man emerges from the passenger seat. They exchange words.

The attorney, Mr. Arnold Fielding, exits his car and runs for the front door. Tiberius takes one step and seems to be frozen to the spot. His head suddenly turns, and his gray eyes lift and find mine. Stunned, I gasp, but I refuse to look away first. My heart thumps heavily behind my breastbone. How did he know I was watching, and from where? He snaps his attention back to his passenger, a man in jeans and a tee. Unnerved, I head into the bathroom and splash cold water onto my face. I pat it dry with a fluffy towel. The mirror before me reflects my drawn expression. Dark circles are prominent beneath my eyes, the color matching my long hair.

A knock on my bedroom door draws my attention. I swallow hard, knowing there will be no escaping the next hour or so. Today is the reading of the will, followed by lunch with Tiberius. I am overjoyed.

Another knock.

“One moment,” I shout.

I slide my feet into the shoes I kicked off earlier and take one last glance in the mirror. The dark color of my midi dress does nothing for my washed-out look. I open the door and catch the impatient look on the housekeeper’s face.

“About time,” Martha snaps before briskly turning away.

I roll my eyes and inhale, holding my breath for a few seconds before slowly exhaling. It helps center me when I know I am about to face danger. That is what Tiberius Beckett is to me—the devil himself.

And there he is.

His dark-gray eyes follow me as I move down the staircase, his body remaining still like a predator. I refuse to let him see the nerves that threaten to break me in his presence. He is the kind of man who, if you give him an inch, he will take a mile.

I come to a stop at the end of the stairs and hesitate. My father’s office will be used for the reading of the will, and the thought of being locked behind closed doors with Tiberius and the attorney makes me want to run. Of course, I do nothing of the sort. I am an Elliot. I can do anything.

At that moment, Mr. Fielding appears.

“My dear, Kinsley,” he says as he moves, taking my cold hands into his much larger and warmer ones. “I am sorry for your loss. Come and take a seat.” He leads me into the office and sits me in a Queen Anne chair in front of the large window. The choice of seating arrangement surprises me, as the meeting table would have sufficed. Nevertheless, I accept the small cup of coffee he places in my hands.

“Thank you for your condolences. It is a very difficult time,” I acknowledge, trying to act the way my mother would want me to—like a lady instead of a rebel. I lean forward and place the cup on the coffee table.

“Mr. Beckett,” Mr. Fielding calls, “please take a seat beside your ward.”

I cringe. I do not want to be his ward, nor do I want him sitting beside me.From his hesitation, I gather he doesn’t want to sit beside me either. He takes the seat opposite, which is even worse. He won’t miss anything now.

Mr. Fielding clears his throat and shoots an impatient glance toward the evil man. “Let’s get started, then.” He unbuttons his blazer and sits, a sheaf of papers in his hand. “Kinsley, you are aware that you are now the ward of Tiberius Beckett, at your father’s request.”

“For two weeks. Yes, I am aware.”

My gaze lifts to the man in question. His hard face shows nothing of what he is thinking. Those dark eyes of his rove over me in a way that causes my heart to pound. The sneer on his cruel lips sets me on edge. As we are, it is the first time I have been close to the man. He looks younger than I first thought. Early thirties to what I previously labeled as early forties. His thick black hair curls over his ears. High cheekbones are marked by a scar across one of them. His rugged features give him a dangerous air, but there is a fleeting hint of vulnerability in his eyes. Have I misread them? The way they narrow on me, I think not. He hates that I’ve seen it. Despite his intimidating presence, I feel a flicker of curiosity about the man who now holds power over me.

A throat clears, which forces my gaze away from Tiberius. Mr. Fielding clears his throat once more. "The last will and testament is rather brief, I am afraid." He looks at me over the rim of his glasses perched on the end of his thin nose. "Your father wasn't one for time-wasting."

"Get on with it," Tiberius growls as his tattooed hands clench his thighs.

"It is a joint will with your mother." Mr. Fielding clears his throat again, which is becoming annoying. "We hereby leave all our assets to our daughter, Kinsley Elliott. The house we also leave to our daughter?—"

"What?" Tiberius questions in a quiet but deep voice as his attention snaps to the attorney. His eyes narrow. "He left the house to"—he turns and glares my way with hatred—“her?”

The papers shake in Mr. Fielding's trembling hands. "That is what he wrote."

"What is going on?" I ask, annoyed. Why would Tiberius be upset that my parents left our family home to me? It makes no sense. But then it makes no sense that I would be left as Tiberius’s ward when the man had made my father nervous.

"You want to know the truth, little girl?" he sneers and stands. He shoves the coffee table out of the way and leans over me, his hands tightly gripping the arms of my chair. When he is so close that I can see silver mixed in with his dark-gray eyes, he says, "The house was supposed to be left to me. I had an agreement with your father." His eyes blaze with emotion. "I have your father's signature on the agreement between us."

I’m trying to concentrate as Tiberius is making a point, but all I can think about is the heady scent of his cologne. It seeps into my senses and gives me ideas I should not be having.

“You smell nice,” I blurt.

His brows shoot up to his hairline as he tightens his jaw and takes his seat, his face on the lawyer. "The house is rightfully mine. I won't sit back and accept this,” he scoffs. "Even in death, he's doing his upmost to fuck with me."

I place a trembling hand on my stomach while I fight to get my equilibrium back. His reaction confuses me. I don't want to draw attention to myself, but I must ask, "Why would you think you’re entitled to this house?”

"Because," he grinds out, "the house belongs to the oldest living male relative. With Jude gone, that is now me. It's the way it has always been done."

"Why didn't I know about that?" I ask softly, feeling like my family betrayed me. “I don’t understand my father. I have only ever seen you from a distance, but now I am your ward. Why?”

Tiberius frowns when his eyes land on me. “None of that matters now."

I force my gaze to the lawyer. “If Tiberius thought he was getting the house, then am I correct to assume my father made a previous will? What was in it?”

"That doesn't?—"

"Tell her," Tiberius snaps.

Mr. Fielding takes a sip of the glass of water in front of him, and says, "In your father’s previous will, he left the house to Tiberius Beckett and explained why. As Tiberius said, the eldest male descendant was to inherit the house."

"My father was Jude Elliott. How are you a Beckett?"

"That piece of paper in your hand will not stand up in court when I have my lawyer file an objection." The man totally ignores me and speaks to Mr. Fielding.

A headache brews behind my temples, and I want to leave the room. I feel sorry for Mr. Fielding, who has done nothing but read my parents’ wishes. Tiberius reminds me of a bull ready to charge. His nostrils flare, and his large body tightens with suppressed anger. He is a tall man who obviously takes good care of himself. The muscle he possesses is unable to hide behind the clothes he wears.

I sense the tension in the room escalating as Tiberius's anger becomes palpable. I need to diffuse the situation before it escalates further. My hands feel sweaty and my mouth is dry, but I have to say something to calm Tiberius down.

"I don't want the house. He can have it." I rush the words out and bring the two men to silence. In truth, the house is the only home I’ve ever known, but I always planned to leave when I turned eighteen.

"What?" Tiberius shakes his head. "What did you say?"

I swallow hard, and say, "You can have the house." I turn my gaze to Mr. Fielding. "You can arrange that, right?"

“Actually”—the older man sighs—“nothing can be done until you turn twenty-one."

Tiberius releases a string of curse words, some of which raise my eyebrows in shock. As difficult as it is to ignore his strong presence, I turn away from him and give my full attention to Mr. Fielding. I need to concentrate.

"I'm assuming there is a clause about selling the house."

"It states that you must live in the house until you turn twenty-one, after which time, you can leave and pass on ownership. However, your father stipulated that ownership could only be passed to Tiberius Beckett."

"Let me get this straight. My father left me the house, yes?" He nods. "But I have to continue living here until I turn twenty-one, at which point he expects me to hand the house over to him." I point toward the beast of a man.

“That is correct.”

“Why didn’t he just leave the house to him in the first place? This doesn’t make any sense.” I get my unsteady legs under me and stand. “What about college? How will I go if I must live here?”

“That detail we will discuss at another time,” Tiberius says, calm once more. He takes out a piece of gum and moves it between his fingers. Is he trying to quit smoking?

“My father was afraid of you.” It takes courage, but I manage to hold his gaze. “Why would he make me your ward?”

“I’m the only one who would have you.”

“That’s not quite?—”

“Mr. Fielding,” snaps Tiberius. “Thank you for your time this morning. I will bring my niece into your office next week to sign the documents you have for her.” He ushers the lawyer from the room.

My refusal to join Tiberius for lunch has garnered his anger once more. The man takes my arm and drags me into the formal dining room, where he pushes me into a chair beside the one at the head of the table, which he takes.

“You need to eat.” His large hands tighten around his cutlery. “You’ve lost weight since the last time I saw you.”

In truth, I am hungry. The food in front of me looks more appetizing than anything Martha has prepared since my parents died.

“Hmm,” I mutter as I straighten in the chair and start to eat. Tiberius watches me with a calculated look on his face as he continues eating.

The food is pleasant, which puts me at ease and leads me to ask, “Will you be moving in?”

He nods.

“Good. At least we’ll get something edible.”

He pauses with a fork of beef near his lips. “Explain that comment.” He places his knife and fork on the plate and sits back, his gaze unwavering.

“Since my parents died, the food hasn’t been good.” I sigh. “I’m not allowed in the kitchen to make my own, so it’s no wonder that I’ve lost weight. I hate tuna, which Martha serves me on crackers for lunch daily.”

“I shudder at the thought,” he says. In his next breath, he shouts, “Martha!”

The woman who hates me comes dashing into the room. “Sir?”

My cheeks flush hotly, and I silently plead that he won’t drop me in it with her. Tiberius narrows his eyes on my face, and his jaw twitches.

“I will be moving into the house later today, and I expect breakfast and dinner served in this room with my niece daily, unless otherwise stated. There will be no tuna and crackers.” He pauses for a moment, holding her full attention. “There will also be no seafood put on the table. Ever.”

Martha shoots me a look of hatred before she says, “Yes, sir.”

“My niece is the owner of this house, which means she is your employer. If you value your position here, I suggest you treat her with respect. She needs to eat, not starve. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

Tiberius snorts. “Go.” He turns to me. “I have no clue what I am supposed to do with you.”

“You could ignore me, and I will ignore you.”

He grins, which surprises me. He has to be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. “You’re too pretty to be ignored, and I’m too big and loud.” He frowns. “Others will be moving into the house with me. You need to stay out of their way.” He points his fork in my direction. “They are dangerous men. I will only give you this warning once. You understand me?”

It’s a good thing I’ve eaten all my food, as my appetite suddenly disappears. “I understand.” My mind whirls, wondering who they are and why he has dangerous men living with him. My outlook is certainly looking better. Maybe I won’t be bored anymore. Tiberius is a large man with an equally large personality.

As my eyes rove over his features, I realize I don’t consider him my uncle. How could I when I’ve never known him? My curiosity about him is piqued, and while he seems slightly more approachable than he has been in the past, I decide to ask my questions.

“Are you married?”

His gray eyes shoot to mine. “No.” He smirks. “Are you?”

“Considering I’m seventeen, I would have thought the answer to that question was obvious.”

“If you ask me personal questions, then expect the same in return.” He grins, mirth dancing in his gaze. “What else do you want to know?”

“Why have we never actually met until now?” I sit back in the chair and try to appear relaxed. I certainly feel better than I did before. Maybe I just needed something proper to eat, or what I do not want to admit, company. I’m not sure how I feel about Tiberius. That’s a lie. The man with silver eyes causes parts of my body to come alive. Butterflies flutter in my belly. Maybe it’s the way he looks at me. I have his sole attention, and I want to keep it.

“There are things that your mother chose to keep from you. I need some time to decide whether or not I tell you what they are.”

I watch him, my curiosity stronger than ever. “Would those things change anything?”

He sits forward with his hands on the table. He intertwines his fingers. “The secret Anna and Jude kept would change everything,” he says in a deep voice, his eyes blazing. “One day, I may tell you.”

I frown. If I’m not mistaken, I catch something within his gaze, as though he is scared to speak of it. I’m more determined than ever to discover what my parents kept from me.

“Not today?”

“Maybe not ever.” He stands and tosses his napkin on his plate. “If I do tell you, just remember they are the ones who kept you in the dark.” With that, he moves toward the large doorway. He pauses with his hand on the knob and glances over his shoulder. “I will be here from this evening.”

“You!” Martha hisses the moment the large front door closes behind Tiberius.

To my horror, my legs tremble at the confrontation I know is seconds away. Martha has always been an evil woman. As soon as Tiberius spoke to her, I knew she would be on me the moment he left. And here she is.

“How dare you complain, you ungrateful little bitch!” Martha charges forward, and I stumble into the wall behind me. She follows and slaps me hard across the face.

Tears fill my eyes as I cradle my throbbing cheek, too stunned to react.

“You think it matters to me that you own this house?” she scoffs. “You know nothing.” Her eyes glow with unleashed anger. “I would be careful of who I become friends with, Kinsley,” she sneers. “Beckett is?—”

I watch her closely as her mouth pulls tight. My heart pounds in my chest while I wonder how to break free of her hold. Martha has never laid a hand on me before, but now the woman before me is finally showing her true colors. I pull myself up to my full five-foot-five height and glare at the woman.

“Do not touch me again,” I say, clear and precise. “Next time, I will fight back.”

Her eyes narrow. “You are brave all of a sudden.” She scowls and looks out of the window. “I may not like you, but if the rumors about Tiberius are true, then I fear for you.” Her arm shoots out and holds me against the wall. She is stronger than she appears. “No more whispering into that man’s ear about me, or you will be very sorry.” With one last shove, she turns and leaves.

I gasp and give into the tears that have been threatening to fall throughout the whole confrontation. My cheek stings as I place it against the cold window and watch the dark clouds roll over the grounds. My stomach is in turmoil. I don’t understand what is going on. The one fact that I do know is that I am the ward of Tiberius Beckett. Why him? I have no idea why my father did that. Although I do not trust Martha, her words have me concerned. What does she know about the man to fear for me?

Something else has become apparent. My father knew he was going to die. The changes to his will were completed three weeks before his death. The weight of my new responsibilities as Tiberius's ward settles heavily on my shoulders as I consider the implications of my father's foresight. The realization scares me.

Scared and out of my depth, I turn away from the window. The grandeur of the dining room now seems suffocating, a stark reminder of the impending gloom that arises within me. The portrait of my father hanging on the wall seems to mock me with his knowing gaze, as if he has left behind secrets that I am now forced to uncover. The feeling of unease grows stronger, making me question everything I thought I knew about my family.

Somehow, I manage to pull myself together. I will not let Martha see how much her sharp words and slap across my face have affected me. The woman will not be working at the house for much longer if I have my way. Maybe Tiberius has his own staff that he can bring here. Anyone would be better than the bitter Martha Green.