Son of Stone (Stone Barrington 21)

Two members of the string quartet had exchanged a violin and a cello for a guitar and a banjo, and they were executing an enthusiastic reel. They finished to a big round of applause from the guests, then recovered their original instrumentation and began playing “Good-Night, Ladies,” apparently the signal for the gentry to put down their glasses and get the hell out. The butler and three maids appeared, carrying armloads of coats and, miraculously, found their owners. Twenty minutes later, Kelli and David were in their rental car, headed back to the inn.

“You were naughty to take photographs,” David said.

“Then I’ll make it up to you by being naughty when we get to the inn,” she said, stroking the inside of his thigh with her long nails.

Stone said good night to some guests then turned and spotted Arrington, who had been backed into a corner by Tim Rutledge, and Stone did not like the desperate expression on her face. Stone walked over to them, shouldered Rutledge out of his way, and held his arm out to Arrington, who took it and walked away with him. As they passed Somes, Stone said to him, through a clenched smile, “Find Mr. Rutledge his coat, now.”

They walked into the library, now empty of guests. “What was that all about?” he asked.

“Oh, it was nothing,” she said. “Just Tim being Tim.”

Stone nodded toward the gun cabinet near the fireplace. “I hope those are loaded,” he said.

“My father always kept them that way,” she replied, “but you keep your hands in your pockets.”

49

T hey lay on their backs in bed, naked, holding hands.

“Well,” Stone said, “that seemed to go very well.”

“Did it?” Arrington asked, sighing. “I hardly noticed. I didn’t have the time.”

“Tell me about T

im Rutledge,” he said. “What did he want from you?”

“Guess,” she said.

“Was that all?”

“Was that all?!”

“Not to undervalue your virtue, but somehow it seemed more complicated than that.”

“He wants not just my virtue but my house and my fortune.”

“Did you explain that those things were already committed?”

“I did so, and succinctly, but he wouldn’t take ‘No, not now, not ever, now get out!’ for an answer. You arrived just in time.”

“Are there any other former lovers lurking about that I should be wary of?”

“No, and he is included in that category because, for a year, you weren’t around.”

“I wasn’t invited.”

“Well, I was busy, I guess, and he was around. Constantly.”

“Did you give him hope for the future?”

“I did not. On the contrary, I actively and explicitly discouraged any thought of the future.”

“Good. Then I don’t have to feel sorry for him.”

“Oh, he’ll have moved on to someone else by next week-probably a married woman, that being his specialty. He’s known among the local matrons as ‘The Prong.’”

Stone laughed.