They laughed. And despite the obvious differences between his mother and his wife, he wasn’t worried about them getting along. Samantha had listened to his description about his mother’s spending habits, about her love of fashion, and used it to gain her affection. By the time they reached The Plaza, Blake was certain that his mother didn’t even notice Samantha’s department store jeans and non-designer shoes. Blake was equally sure that Samantha would burn the clothes on her back the minute she had a chance.
Thankfully, his mother waved them off at the door and didn’t join them inside the hotel. The early dawn hours graced them with a deserted lobby. The bellhop quickly shuffled them to their suite. Blake tipped the young man and closed the door behind him.
Alone, Sam toed off her shoes and flung herself in the sofa. “I might actually like your mom after I get over the fact she ambushed us at the airport.”
“I asked her to wait for us in Albany.”
“She’s a mom. She’s curious.”
“Still, she should have waited.” And he’d have a private word with her at the first opportunity.
“She needed to see that I wasn’t five months pregnant with her own eyes.”
Blake had started to place his suitcase on the bed when Samantha’s words registered. “Pregnant?”
“Oh, please, you didn’t see her eyes drifting to my waist?”
No, the thought had never entered his mind. “You’re not serious.”
“Very. She was on a recon mission. First to see if an heir is on the way, second to make sure I wasn’t a complete wash in the class department.”
Blake leaned against the frame of the bed, his mind buzzing with the possibility that Samantha was right. “How can you be sure?”
“Women are emotional creatures. Everything is in their eyes. Once your mom took off her sunglasses, I could read every glance, every twitch.”
He shrugged. “I think I need to have you come into my next management meeting. You seem to have the spy thing down.”
“When I was in college, I minored in psychology.”
“You could have had a career in criminal justice.”
“Not likely. Sins of the father and all that.”
Samantha pushed off the couch, ending their conversation. There was hurt there, in her stance as she unpacked a few things and headed for the bathroom. Her father had done a number on her. Sadly, Blake wasn’t sure how deep her wounds were. He made a mental note to find out.
****
Samantha’s head no sooner met the pillow than Blake was waking her. After a long hot shower and a small meal, because face it, eating simply made her nauseous at this point, the honeymooners were on their way to Albany. The thought of Blake’s family watching her every move spread shivers up her spine. Samantha knew she’d dodged Blake’s mother’s initial inquisition. There was no telling if Linda would be as easily put off once Sam was on the woman’s home turf.
Dressed in a rust colored skirt and dress jacket, she prepared herself to meet the family.
Blake didn’t even question why she’d shoved her jeans and shirt into the garbage can at the hotel. He simply noticed the outfit there and offered a laugh.
Whatever! She shouldn’t have brought it to begin with… then she wouldn’t have been wearing it when Linda made her appearance. Not willing to be caught in anything but her best again, Samantha made certain the only clothes with her were on par with the former Duchess of Albany, maybe a few decades younger in style, but worthy of what the woman on Blake’s arm should be wearing.
The rain let up during their afternoon drive to the country. As London faded away, and the rolling hills spread before them, Samantha tried to relax in the seat beside Blake.
He spoke of his sister, who was about Samantha’s age. “Gwen’s always wanted me to settle down.”
Sam felt her stomach twist with Blake’s words. “Doesn’t it worry you…” Sam let her words trail off, her gaze shifting to the driver in the front seat. She wanted to ask if he worried about his sister becoming attached to her new sister in the short span of their marriage.
Blake flinched, uncertainly skirted over his face. “You and Gwen will get along fine. She’s very kind. Perhaps a little spoiled, but never mean spirited.”
Samantha dropped her discussion about Gwen’s attachment to a temporary sister-in-law for a time when the two of them could talk alone. The thought of deceiving all the people she was about to meet started to weight on her. The memories of her father, of the time right before he was placed in handcuffs, surfaced in her mind.
As a business major, Samantha spent many hours outside class discussing her father’s success with her professors. Even her boyfriend at the time, Dan, seemed to want to know everything about Harris Elliot and his small empire of wealth and property.
Dan was charming, charismatic, and more sly than a fox at a hole waiting for the rabbit to peek it’s soft, fuzzy head out.
Sam was the rabbit who didn’t know she was being played.
To think she’d slept with the man who eventually put her father behind bars. How stupid she’d been. They’d dated, studied, or so she thought, and rumpled a fair number of sheets. All the while Dan recorded their conversations, asked seemingly innocent questions, and helped the prosecution make their case against her father.
Even now, years later sitting beside her temporary husband, Samantha felt ill. Not that she’d knowingly given the prosecution evidence against her father, but the sins of her father snowballed into the death of her mother and Jordan’s wasted life.