The Ashtons: Walker, Ford & Mercedes: Betrayed Birthright / Mistaken for a Mistress / Condition of Marriage. Sheri WhiteFeather

Чтение книги онлайн.

      Seven

      The weather in Northern California was perfect, a warm summer day bursting with color. The wine country, with its fertile land and prospering grapes, was surrounded by mountain ranges that rose to the sky.

      Tamra sat next to Walker in his car, a silver Jaguar he’d retrieved from a long-term parking lot at the airport. Mary settled in the backseat, but she’d been relatively quiet since they’d arrived in Napa Valley.

      Walker stopped at a gate at the entrance of the estate, pressing a keypad with a security code. As they continued, moving closer to their final destination, Tamra drew a shaky breath.

      The mansion itself, an enormous cream-colored structure accented with marble, presided from a hill overlooking the vineyards below. A large circular drive boasted an elegant reflecting pool. The water shimmered in the sun, catching the light like magic.

      “Oh, my,” Mary said, a statement that seemed to convey exactly what Tamra was thinking.

       Oh, my.

      “The humble abode,” Walker joked, pulling into the driveway with ease.

      He was glad to be home, Tamra thought. To the familiarity of his youth. But his comfort zone only made her more nervous.

      To her, the estate seemed like a rich-and-powerful fortress. It had Spencer Ashton written all over it. The dead man still reigned.

      “Long live the king,” she mumbled.

      Walker shot her a quick glance. “What?”

      “It looks like a castle,” she amended.

      He shrugged and killed the engine of his sixty-thousand-dollar car. They climbed out of the Jag, and he gestured to the trunk, where he’d already popped open the lid. “Don’t worry about our luggage. Someone will take care of it soon enough.”

      Someone? The hired help? “You’re spoiled,” Tamra said.

      He frowned at her. “I don’t have servants in San Francisco. I prefer my privacy. But things are different here.”

      She held her tongue, and he opened the door to an expansive foyer. A magnificent library was on the left and a lavish dining room on the right. A double staircase, leading to each wing of the house, made a sweeping impression. Walker escorted her and Mary into a majestic room he called the grand parlor.

      Grand indeed: creamy fabrics and ornate antiques, a terrace that presented a breathtaking view of a flourishing garden and the vineyards below.

      Tamra didn’t want to sit, although Walker offered her and his mother a seat. The furniture, she noticed, was polished to perfection. Tables gleamed and mirrors reflected every carefully decorated angle. There wasn’t a thread out of place. Even the tassels on pillows displayed themselves in a don’t-touch-us manner.

      A woman wearing a black uniform draped with a white apron entered the parlor. She looked about Mary’s age, her long dark-brown hair pinned up.

      “Mr. Walker,” she said, her tone soft and respectful. “It’s good to have you home. And with your new family.”

      “Irena.” He greeted her in a detached voice. But even so, he introduced her to Tamra and Mary, letting them know she was the head housekeeper.

      If his attitude hurt Irena’s feelings, she didn’t let it show. Her blue eyes sparkled, especially when she spoke to Mary. Tamra liked her immediately, which made Walker’s disposition even more baffling.

      Had the housekeeper done something to displease him? Or did he treat all of the employees with mild disdain?

      Tamra shifted in her seat. Was it a learned response he’d picked up from Spencer?

      “Miss Charlotte and Mr. Alexandre left a message for you,” Irena informed him. “Their flight was delayed. They won’t be arriving until tomorrow morning.”

      He frowned. “That’s fine. Is Lilah here?”

      “Yes, Mr. Walker. She’ll be with you shortly.”