Tiffany Reisz - The Prince

“Take your time, Wes.” She patted him on the back again.

“Dad, I love you. But you’re kind of pissing me off right now. Nora’s my best friend. She’s my girlfriend. She’s staying here with me while I figure out what I’m going to do next. If you’ve got a problem with that—”

“I certainly do have a problem with that—”

“Then we’ll go to a hotel.”

“Hotel’s a good idea,” Nora said from behind him. “I liked that castle we passed. Can we rent a turret? I’ll call about the weekly rates.”

“I’ll stay in a Motel 6 before I’ll let anybody treat you like this, Nora.”

“They do leave the lights on for you, I hear. Nice of them.” Nora already had her phone out, clearly ready to get the hell out of Kentucky. Or at least off his front lawn. He couldn’t quite blame her.

“Motel 6? What on earth?” Wesley’s mother called out from the front porch. “Wesley? Did you make it home?”

“Hey, Momma.” He grabbed Nora’s hand and pulled her across the lawn to where his mother stood under the archway. “I want you to meet my girlfriend, Nora. She came down from Connecticut to visit me.”

Wesley wanted to pull his mother into a bear hug, but decided against it. His dad had accused him in the past of using his mother to get away with murder. He wanted his father to accept Nora, not merely tolerate her because his mother liked her.

“Hello, Mrs. Railey.” Nora had a smile on again, but not the smile that made Wesley nervous. A simple smile he had only seen her wear it in private with him, or when she met a child. He’d never met anybody as good with kids as Nora. Broke his heart that she claimed to not want any. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

“Nora, you say?” his mother repeated, and returned Nora’s smile. His mom looked tired tonight. The business side of the farm wore her out, enough that Wesley feared guilt alone would keep him on the farm forever. “So nice to meet you, too. But, Wesley, I thought …”

Wesley laughed. “Mom, Bridget and I broke up a while ago. Nora and I were together when I was at Yorke. We’re back together again.”

“I’m much younger than I look, I promise.” Nora’s smile broadened. “I’m aging horribly.”

His mom laughed. “I had a feeling my Wesley would fall for an older woman. Girls his age just aren’t smart enough for him.” She reached up and ruffled Wesley’s hair. Nora stuck her tongue out at him and gave him that Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it? look.

“I’m definitely not smart enough for him. Must not be if I let him get away once. I’ll be more careful this time.”

“Smart girl.”

Wesley grinned as his mother reached out and patted Nora on the arm.

“It’s getting late, Mom. Shouldn’t you be in bed?” he asked, worried that his argument with his father had woken her up.

“Yes, Caroline. I think that’s a good idea,” said Wesley’s father in a tone that brooked no argument.

“Yes, sir,” she said, and reached for her husband’s hand. “Put me to bed. Make sure you tuck me in nice and tight.”

“I always do. Gotta tuck you in or you might run away on me.”

Wesley’s mother smiled broadly and her pale face instantly lit up with love.

Wesley couldn’t help but smile, too. He and his father had their differences, but they both worshipped the ground Caroline Railey walked on. That alone kept them from launching the New Civil War on Kentucky soil most days.

“It was nice to meet you, Nora,” she said, glancing over her shoulder as Jackson led her into the house. “Wesley, you make sure she’s got enough blankets. Might get even colder tonight.”

“I will, Mom. She’s out in the guesthouse with me.”

“I did not hear that, young man,” she said, laughing. Wesley glanced at Nora, who grinned at him.

Alone with her once again, Wesley slumped against one of the pillars on the front porch.

“Okay, that went worse than I thought it would,” he confessed. “Nora, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe my dad investigated you and me and—”

She closed the distance between them in two big steps and threw her arms around him.

“Whoa, where did that come from?” He wrapped her tight in his arms.

“Wes, you’re my hero. I can’t believe you talked back to your dad like that. He’s a little on the …” Nora pulled away and mimed the Psycho shower-stabbing scene. Wesley could only nod in agreement.

“Yeah, can’t argue with that. He’s a good guy. He is. Just overprotective of me and Mom.”

“Family man. I respect that. My father would have sold me down the damn river to pay off a ten-dollar debt if he thought he’d get a Hamilton for me.”

“Dad only dislikes you—”

“Hates … he hates me,” she corrected.

“Fine, he only hates you because he thinks you hurt me.”

Nora reached up and caressed Wesley’s cheek. He turned his face into her hand and kissed her palm.

“Wesley … I did hurt you.”

He nodded and said nothing else. Nora hugged him again. She held him for a long time, so long he forgot what she was hugging him for. He kissed her hair, inhaled the scent of her—orchids. Nora always smelled like orchids…. Someday he’d remember to ask her why.

“I should go.” She pulled away.

“What?”

“I can stay in town somewhere. I don’t want to cause you more trouble than I already have. Nora Sutherlin in the house equals trouble. It’s basic math.”

Wesley shook his head and took her hand. “When did you start doing math? Don’t answer. Listen … you’re not going to cause trouble. We’re going to hang out and relax and spend time together and figure stuff out. No trouble, right?”

Nora sighed heavily. She crossed her arms and leaned back against the pillar behind her.

“Stay a week. Promise me a week,” Wesley said. “If it’s still this bad with my father in a week, then we’ll go back to Connecticut. Okay?”

Wesley watched Nora. She closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose. Was there a more beautiful woman in the world than Nora Sutherlin? Even after driving all day, and wearing nothing fancier than jeans and a tight white T-shirt over those amazing breasts of hers that haunted his waking dreams, and her thick black hair back in a ponytail and with her eyeliner smudged and her lipstick fading … Behind that outer layer that drove him wild with one look was her mind, her sense of humor, her spirit no one could crush—not even Søren.

Damn . No other word for Nora Sutherlin. Just damn .

“Okay. One week,” she promised, opening her eyes.

“Good. Think you can behave yourself for one week?”

“Probably not. But I’ll try. For your sake.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem,” Nora said, heading toward her car. “I mean, really … not even I could cause any trouble in a week, right?”

For two weeks, Kingsley did nothing but watch Stearns. He went to class, he ate his meals, he pretended to befriend the other boys … but everything he did was a mere ruse, a mask, misdirection. To make up for his behavior on his first day at Saint Ignatius, Kingsley played the saint of the school in the eyes of everyone around him. But he existed solely for Stearns, solely for sin.

But Stearns wasn’t playing along.

“Aristotle,” Father Robert intoned as his broken piece of chalk squeaked on the blackboard, “had a rather unusual idea about the mind, about consciousness. He thought that the seat of consciousness was the heart. The brain was a mere cooling factory—ventilation. Interestingly, the ancient Egyptians also thought the brain was a pointless organ while the heart itself was the seat of soul and thought. Modern science tells us this is wrong. But what does Jesus have to say?”