Promise Not To Tell(95)

“I wonder if Quinton Zane was aware of Tucker and Kate,” Virginia said.

“If he’s alive, then we have to assume that he knew of the existence of his offspring.”

“Yes, I suppose so. But he never made any attempt to contact them over the years.”

“Why would he? This is Quinton Zane we’re talking about. He wouldn’t have had any interest in his own flesh and blood unless he thought he could make use of them.”

Virginia eased herself back into the chair and concentrated on her whiskey. Both the pain in her side and the last remnants of the anxiety attack were fading. Cabot sat on the sofa, his knees apart, his forearms resting on his thighs. He cradled his glass in both hands.

“I meant what I said this afternoon,” he said after a while. “I love you.”

She knew a sense of warmth that had nothing to do with the whiskey. “I meant what I said, too. I love you.”

“You thought you were dying.”

“Doesn’t change the facts. I meant it. I love you.”

“I think you should know that I have a lousy track record with relationships.”

“No kidding. So do I. We’ll figure it out together.”

“Yes,” he said. “We will. You know, under other circumstances, I would pick you up and sweep you off to the bedroom and we would engage in some hot and sweaty sex.”

“Under other circumstances, I would be thrilled to be carried off to the bedroom. However, given our current physical conditions, I guess we’ll just have to sit here in the dark and tell each other how much we love each other.”

“Works for me. But just so you know, as soon as we get the stitches out, I intend to go back to plan A.”

“That would be the plan in which you sweep me off to the bedroom and we engage in hot and sweaty sex?”

“Right.”

She smiled. “It’s good to have a plan.”

“The plan includes asking you to marry me after the hot and sweaty sex.”

She drew a breath and released it with a sense of certainty.

“Does your plan allow for some modifications?” she asked.

Cabot’s jaw tightened. “It’s too soon. I understand. But I think you should know that sooner or later I will ask because I won’t be able to stop myself.”

“The modification I was about to suggest is that we reverse the sequence of events. You could ask me to marry you now instead of waiting until after we get the stitches out.”

Cabot did not move, but it seemed to Virginia that there was a lot of energy in the atmosphere. It was the vital, intoxicating energy of joy.

“That first day, when I walked into the office and saw you sitting there with Anson, I felt as if I’d had the breath knocked out of me,” Cabot said. “For a couple of seconds all I could do was just stare at you.”

“I noticed. I thought it was because you thought I was suspicious.”

“No,” he said. He shook his head very slowly, utterly intense, fully in his zone. “No, it was because I knew I’d found something I’d been looking for all my life. I just hadn’t realized what it was I wanted until I saw you. Will you marry me, Virginia?”

“I guess you didn’t notice that I stopped breathing for a couple of beats that day when you walked into the office carrying those two cups of coffee and some pastries. It was as if I’d been walking through an endless gallery filled with boring abstract paintings and suddenly, there on the wall, was an old Renaissance masterpiece.”

“Old?”

She smiled. “I mean that in the nicest possible way. Yes, I will marry you, Cabot Sutter.”

He got to his feet, pulled her gently to her feet and kissed her. It was not a hot tango of a kiss; it was not a kiss that seduced and enthralled. It was a vastly more meaningful kiss – the kind that sealed a vow.

CHAPTER 71

“I worry about them,” Octavia said.

Anson paused his glass of sparkling wine halfway to his mouth. Generally speaking he was not a fan of small bubbles in his alcohol, but the gallery event was a class act and he was determined to show respect.

He looked at Octavia, who was standing next to him. She, too, had a glass of bubbly in one hand. She was dressed in a sleek black pantsuit and high heels. A fine-looking woman, he thought. Smart, too. He had always been attracted to smart women.

“Virginia is your granddaughter,” he said. “Naturally you’re going to fret about her. I worry about Cabot. But for what it’s worth, I think he and Virginia suit each other. They share some serious history. There’s a connection between them. You can feel it when you’re around them. No way to see into the future, but I think that what Cabot and Virginia have is as solid as it gets.”

Octavia hesitated and then nodded once. “You’re right. You are very intuitive, Anson.”

“Don’t know about intuitive, but I do know something about Cabot,” Anson said.

He and Octavia were standing close together in a corner at the back of the crowded gallery. He was no expert on such matters, but to his untrained eye, the show looked like a roaring success.

The publicity about the confrontation between Virginia and Kate Delbridge in the back room had probably done wonders to ensure a big turnout. Nevertheless, the guests who were swilling the sparkling wine and wolfing down the fancy canapés seemed to be genuinely impressed with the show.