The Danforths: Toby, Lea and Adam: Cowboy Crescendo / Steamy Savannah Nights / The Enemy's Daughter

“I’ll be right back,” he told her.

Heather forced herself to let go of his hand as he rose to his feet. She was grateful that he hadn’t tried placating her with some platitude about there being nothing to be afraid of. That was how her father tried dismissing her fear of the dark when she was little. As had Josef whenever she waited in the wings for her turn to perform before a house filled with critics.

And right before he took her virginity from her.

Lies.

She was doubly grateful when Toby returned a moment later as promised, not with some condescending statement about air travel being safer then driving her car, but rather with a stiff drink in one hand.

“I hope you like whiskey,” he told her, passing her a tall tumbler. “You strike me more as the type who’d prefer an umbrella and a cherry bobbing in a fancy drink. But since I’m not much of a bartender, this is the best I could manage before the pilot announces it’s time to fasten our seat belts.”

Such instructions were unnecessary on her behalf. Heather had securely buckled her safety device across her lap the instant she sat down—and read every word of the informational materials provided in the back of the seat in front of her. Just in case an ocean happened to materialize between Wyoming and Georgia, she was prepared to use her seat cushion as a floatation device.

The ice cubes floating in her drink offered more immediate comfort. Heather took a tentative sip. As its dark amber color suggested, Toby made it plenty stiff.

“I hope your relatives don’t mind if I’m not able to stand up once we get there,” she murmured with a diminutive little cough.

His responding grin was enough to melt those ice cubes clinking against her glass. Heather wasn’t sure whether the warmth spreading through her body was due to her hormones or the alcohol hitting her bloodstream.

“Don’t worry,” Toby told her. “As far as I know, my uncle isn’t basing his campaign on any protemperance stance. Which is a good thing, considering his own past.”

Heather raised a slender eyebrow.

“My family isn’t exactly without blemish,” he warned.

“Whose is?”

She took another dainty sip of her drink to steady her nerves as they began the long roll down the runway. Not one to pry, Heather was nonetheless curious. Local gossip connected Toby to a glossy layout of some fabulous mansion touted in a magazine last summer. Much of what had been said regarding the article was mean-spirited and envious in nature. She supposed such a well-known family would have to expect to have every flaw magnified in the press. She wondered if that was part of the reason Toby deliberately put such distance between them.

Since her own family relished any media attention and rushed to put their daughter in the limelight every chance they could, it was a stance she could uniquely appreciate.

“What’s your family like?” Toby asked.

Not sure whether he asked the question out of courtesy or as a way to distract her from their impending takeoff, she responded tersely.

“Quiet.”

Squeezing her eyes shut as the engines growled and the airplane strained to lift off, she hoped Toby wasn’t angry at her brusqueness. Her stomach leaped as they became airborne and hovered somewhere between her head and her heart. Tiny beads of sweat popped out above her lip.

“Take another swallow,” Toby commanded, squeezing her hand. His voice was far more reassuring than the remedy he offered.

Unfortunately, his touch counteracted that effect. Warm and strong, it suggested an intimacy that was not at all appropriate between an employee and employer. Heather fought to remember that she was hired to look after Dylan, not to engage in foolish romantic fantasies that left one feeling used and forlorn in their aftermath.

No matter how much Heather wanted to let go of Toby’s hand, she could no more have done so than she could slow her racing pulse. In so small an airplane, one felt every air pocket and bump right in the seat of the pants. Looking out the window only intensified the feeling of dizziness that swept over her. The landscape below, parched by drought, may well have been the surface of the moon for what little comfort its familiarity brought.

“Turn around,” Toby told her.

“What?”

He touched her nape with his free hand. She flinched, and her already stiff shoulders bunched up around her ears as he began kneading the muscles on either side of her neck.

“Let me give you a massage. Trust me, it’ll help you relax.”

Although Heather started to protest, the sensation of his masterful fingers stroking her skin was too heavenly to forgo, even for the sake of pride. Toby took his other hand from hers and began to massage her knotted muscles in earnest. Heather expelled a deep breath of air and felt every muscle in her body relax. Suddenly the sensation of floating high above the world didn’t seem nearly so frightening. She arched against his touch and tried to keep from sliding out of her seat. Her eyelids fluttered shut.

“That is nice,” she admitted.

The sound of giggling in the seat behind her so startled Heather that she almost spilled her drink into her lap. Dylan apparently did not share her aversion to air travel. His reaction to hitting an air pocket was to pretend he was on a roller coaster. Toby looked pleased. While his son had yet to speak again since that first day when Heather arrived, laughter was definitely a step in the right direction.

“I’m afraid the only quiet one you’re likely to find in my family is Dylan,” Toby told her. “And with your help, I think we might be well on the way to curing that.”

Indeed he was right on that account. There was a small army waiting on the ground in Savannah to meet them. As delighted as Heather was to be back on earth in one piece, she found the rush of people surrounding them with hugs and squeals of welcome almost as oppressive as the humidity making the air heavy and redolent with expensive perfume. Her knees were wobbly beneath her, partly from the effect of the miraculous concoction Toby had mixed up for her on the plane—and partly from a sense that she was being suffocated.

Dylan threw his arms around one of her legs. Oblivious to that fact, Toby took her firmly by the elbow. Heather felt like a wishbone being pulled apart. Caught in a throng of some of the most beautiful people she had ever seen, she reached down and pulled Dylan up into her arms. He clutched her neck as if it were a life preserver.

“And this darling angel must be my nephew,” cooed a Southern voice so balmy Heather thought it warranted a fan.

A stunning blonde stepped out from behind that voice to hold her arms out to Dylan. Her eyes immediately gave her away as Toby’s sister. The exact same shape, they were as vivid green as his were blue—with equal shades of compassion glimmering in their depths. Heather held her breath when Dylan hesitated. Already protective of him, she didn’t want anyone rushing him too soon.

When he leaned into his Aunt Imogene’s arms, Heather heard Toby expel his breath at the exact same time that she did. The tightness in her shoulders returned with a vengeance. It wasn’t that anyone went out of his or her way to make her feel unwelcome as much as the fact that there were so many Danforths to try to keep straight in her mind at once.

“I’d like you to meet my sister Imogene and my brother Jacob. His wife Larissa. My cousin Reid, his wife Tina.”

Toby’s sister gave him a scathing look and corrected him almost the instant her name rolled off his tongue. “The last time anyone in this family called me Imogene, it was followed by both my middle and last name. I believe it was a code signaling that I was in big trouble, more often than not because of something my ornery big brother instigated.”

Toby’s embrace may have encompassed both his son and his charming sister without putting any strain on those big arms of his, but his laugh pulled on Heather’s heart. She imagined the sound of that robust laughter mingling with that of a host of other Danforths, raising the rafters of a fancy mansion profiled in magazines that touted the lifestyles of the rich and famous. Heather’s first impression of this prestigious family was far less stuffy than what she had anticipated. And while that was a relief in some ways, it complicated her relationship as Dylan’s nanny.

As far as she knew, servants weren’t expected to like their superiors.

Although Toby’s introduction accounted for all the adults present, a couple of children had tagged along to watch the planes land and take off as well as to welcome Toby home. He scooped each of them up in his arms, promising them a special present from his luggage as soon as he unpacked. After collecting their bags they proceeded to a waiting limousine where Heather took a deep, cleansing breath and embraced the sudden sound of silence.

“To Crofthaven,” Toby told the driver.

No more directions were necessary than the name of the Danforth family estate where Toby promised “kith and kin galore.” He either chose to ignore the look of panic that flitted across Heather’s face at that pronouncement or simply missed it in the middle of fretting about Dylan.

“I was surprised he went to Genie so easily,” he admitted.

“And that he wanted to stay with her at the airport,” Heather added. A dear friend was flying in on a commercial flight arriving any minute, and Genie offered to bring Dylan back to Crofthaven in her personal car. “Your sister seems very nice.”

“She is,” Toby assured her with typical big brother pride. “Actually all my relatives are. The worst thing about living so far away is missing out on family functions—and,” he added with a wry grin, “maybe the best thing, too.”

When Heather gave him an odd look, he hastened to explain. “Don’t get me wrong. I love my family. It’s just that I’m not much for black-tie functions like the big party Uncle Abe is throwing on the Fourth to launch his political campaign. I wouldn’t have agreed to come home if Dad hadn’t specifically asked me to. That man’s sense of family obligation doesn’t stop at the state line. Nor Uncle Abe’s—hence the private jet that flew us here—although I suspect his motives are less pure than my father’s.”

Heather nodded her head in empathy. She had endured more than her share of the kind of black- tie events to which Toby referred, not to mention undue family influence about what she wanted to do with her own life.

“How were you able to strike out on your own without severing the family ties completely?” she asked.

Having done everything in her power to avoid being alone with Toby in his home for the three short days that she had been working for him, this was the first time they had actually been together without Dylan present. Given the state of her hormones whenever Toby was near, it was far less awkward than Heather would have imagined. Like the TV dinner they had shared in front of the television that first night of her employment, it was amazingly cozy. If she wasn’t careful, Heather knew she might start feeling like a real part of Toby’s family. She was both flattered and flummoxed that her boss treated her more like a friend than an employee.

“My family accepts me for who and what I am. Luckily, they don’t feel the need to mold me into something that I’m not. They just reel me in once in a while and remind me that I’m one of their own.”

“That must be nice,” Heather said. Unable to come up with a better adjective, the wistful tone of her voice gave away the pain of her own family situation.

“It certainly makes me appreciate family all the more when I get the chance to come home. It’s good for Dylan, too. A child needs to know that he’s part of a tree with roots, not just some cottonseed blown across the continent.”

Heather took the remark to heart. That was exactly how she felt. Like a seed tossed upon a hapless wind. She envied Toby the ability to do exactly what he wanted with his life without fear of being disowned for doing so. Dylan was a lucky little boy to be born into such a family.

She stared out the window. This was the first time she had ever been in Savannah. As the name itself suggested with its softly drawn syllables, it was a city of gracious living. The air was scented with magnolia blossoms as big as a man’s open hand, dotting tree-lined streets that grew less and less modern the farther they traveled away from the airport.

The lush landscape of the South was a stark contrast to the wide-open spaces of Wyoming. They followed the Savannah River as it meandered through town. It reminded Heather of a grand old lady who was in no hurry to reach her destination but rather was intent on enjoying the journey itself. As the city gave way to the country, white-columned plantations evoked images of Scarlett O’Hara and a time lost to all but the blood of a civil war that soaked into the soil and permeated the very air itself. The voices of ghosts whispered through the Spanish moss hanging like tinsel from dignified oaks.

“What about your family?” Toby inquired, which pulled her gaze back into the vehicle and herself into the present moment.

Heather’s voice was small.

“Not all parents are as understanding as yours.”

Toby looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”

Naturally introverted, Heather wasn’t inclined to speak of private issues, but for some reason she felt safe sharing a little bit of herself with a man whose eyes looked upon her so kindly. Perhaps a brief explanation might help him understand any perceived aloofness on her part when it came time for her to interact with the hordes of his siblings, cousins and aunts and uncles. She hoped he would approve a moment or two of the quiet contemplation that she needed to feel centered every day.

“As an only child, all the noise and confusion of a big family like yours is strange to me. Unlike your parents, mine pinned all their hopes on me fulfilling their dreams. I’m afraid I’ve disappointed them terribly.”

“I can’t imagine any parents not being proud of such a lovely, talented daughter,” Toby said. “If they lost a child, they might well rethink their judgmental attitude.”

His expression was so solemn, and his voice so earnest, that it almost caused tears to spring to Heather’s eyes. She wondered who in his family had lost a loved one tragically. All this talk of family only served to rip the stitches from fresh wounds. Just because this man had soothed her fear of flying on the plane didn’t mean he had shoulders broad enough for more problems than his own. She tried to make light of her pain.

“It’s understandable given the amount of money they spent on my training and…”

Heather’s attention was momentarily diverted as the driver pulled into a driveway leading to what appeared to be a museum of sorts. A wrought-iron gate with a curlicued D announcing the Danforth estate swung open splitting the letter in two. She gasped in astonishment.

“This is where you grew up?”

“Thankfully, no.” Toby’s voice rustled in his throat. “The poor side of the family lives down the road.”

The lack of bitterness in his voice led Heather to believe he was exaggerating his circumstances. The grounds surrounding Crofthaven underscored her initial impression of the prominent Danforths, portrayed in the media as a formidable and impenetrable dynasty. The estate itself was so huge and the gardens so elaborate that Heather surmised it would take an entire army of gardeners working full-time to tend the place. She wondered if the grounds ran all the way to the ocean, and made a mental note to walk the perimeter of the estate the first chance she got.

The main house, a large Georgian-style mansion, was listed as a historical landmark. Having been built over a hundred years ago, it showed no signs of neglect. Though it obviously had been modernized to include up-to-date electrical wiring and plumbing, great care had been taken to retain the original integrity of the property. Hollywood would be hard-pressed to find a better setting for an epic nineteenth-century saga.

“It’s an amazing place,” she said.

“It is,” Toby agreed. “But not everything is as it appears on the surface. My cousins have far fonder memories of the time they spent at my parents’ home than of their lives here. After their mother died, their childhood was marked by loneliness and some emotional neglect on the part of their father. Bricks and mortar don’t make a home any more than money can necessarily buy character.”

Heather couldn’t argue that point. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a slight movement that sent goose bumps crawling over her flesh. Beneath a massive oak tree, she saw the figure of a woman clad in ancient garb. She was too far away to make out much more than the dark color of her hair and her turn-of-the-century clothing, but there was no mistaking that the sorrowful-looking creature was wagging a finger directly at her!

In the blink of an eye, the apparition was gone.

Heather’s fingers found Toby’s arm.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, covering her hand with his own.

She was grateful for the warmth of human flesh. Her own skin had gone deadly cold. Heather was on the verge of asking Toby if he, too, had seen the mysterious woman under the tree, but decided against it. She doubted he wanted to introduce her to the rest of his family as a loony.

Perhaps the woman was, in fact, part of a Civil War reenactment.

Perhaps a documentary was being filmed on site.

Perhaps Heather was overly tired from a long, arduous flight, and her mind was simply overcome by the aura of this incredible setting.

Or perhaps she was being warned from the grave to escape while there was still time….

Four

When the limousine came to a complete stop at Crofthaven’s front door, their driver jumped out to open their doors. He was too late for Toby who was accustomed to opening his own doors and making his own way in the world without anyone’s assistance.

“Thanks, anyway,” he said, stuffing a generous tip into the man’s hand. “And have a nice day.”

As Heather stepped from the limousine, she tried to dismiss the eerie sense that some ghostly being was watching her. Surely it was only her imagination that chilled her skin and caused her to look over her shoulder. Letting the sounds of summer crickets and birds wash over her, she rubbed away her goose bumps and fixed a determined smile on her face. Dylan was eagerly waiting for them on the front steps along with half the population of Savannah, as far as Heather could tell.

They converged on Toby as if he were the proverbial prodigal son returning home. Contrary to her expectations, Heather wasn’t shoved aside as much as swallowed up by the throng pushing them through the massive front doors. The Danforths were a jovial bunch who seemed more into bear hugs than the pretentious air kisses that her parents preferred on the rare occasions she was allowed to return home.

The apologetic glance that Toby cast in Heather’s direction did not escape his sister Imogene’s sharp green eyes.

Heather suspected little did.

At the moment, however, she was having trouble keeping up with all the names and faces crowded about. As if imploring a higher power, Heather cast her eyes to the high ceilings and ornamental fans so reminiscent of a Tennessee Williams production. Their gentle whirring stirred enough of a breeze to play a subtle tune on the chandelier sparkling overhead. As if sensing her discomfort, Toby put an arm around her shoulder.

She turned her face up to his as he bent down to whisper in her ear. “Thank you for being here for Dylan and me. You don’t know how much it means.”

His breath against her neck was cooler than the air that greeted her when she stepped off the plane but it melted her on the spot nonetheless. Need revealed itself in the shiver that raced down her collar and out the ends of her fingertips. That same sudden need made her shift even closer to him to take shelter in the crook of the arm draped protectively around her. It made Heather want a great many things that were not at all possible given her status among the rich and famous gathered together in such an incredible setting.

Heather was so accustomed to Josef abandoning her at social gatherings, while he curried favor among the patrons and attended to his own adoring fans, that Toby’s attention to her well-being caught her unawares. Why was he being so nice to her? she wondered. Supposing she must look terribly overwhelmed to warrant such attention, Heather resigned herself to making the best of the short introductions to come, if only for the sake of common courtesy. She was glad she wore dress slacks and a sleeveless seersucker top rather than the shorts she had been tempted to don in expectation of the South’s famous heat and humidity. Breathing a sigh of relief that she was neither over nor underdressed for the occasion, she smiled at the man who had brought her here as a servant but who was doing his best to make her feel like a guest.

The crowd separated to let a slender woman step forward. Heather was reminded of Moses parting the Red Sea. Like so many Southern ladies, she was of an indeterminate age. Her blond hair was swept up in a tidy, timeless style, and she wore a simple chiffon dress of pale lemon. Except for the warm blue eyes that were Toby’s, she looked just like Imogene.

“Mom!”

Heather studied the joy reflected in Toby’s face as he swept his mother into his arms. The love between them was so genuine that a ripple of jealousy washed through her. She could not remember a single time that her mother ever greeted her in such an uninhibited fashion. Nor when she felt truly accepted by the woman who brought her into the world. In the Burroughs family, color distinguished blood from water more than any particular thickening agent.

Toby’s father was only half a step behind his wife.

“Son!”

How a single syllable could carry such implicit approval was beyond Heather, but it most certainly did. Whereas Miranda Danforth was effusive in her greeting, Toby’s father stopped just short of a hug, reaching out instead to take his son’s hand into his. The handshake they exchanged conveyed something so sacred and honorable that it caused Heather to feel the need to turn away.

“I really appreciate your coming home on such short notice at my request, especially when I know how busy you’ve been,” Harold Danforth said. His eyes held a shimmer of deeply felt emotion.

Toby reached out to embrace his father for a moment that transcended time altogether.

“I wouldn’t miss a family reunion for the world—whatever the reason for it might be.”

Uncomfortable with such an open display of affection in light of her own family’s threat to disown her, Heather wondered if she might possibly slip away and do a little exploring—of the house itself as well as of the raw emotions that were twisting her guts up into knots.

“And who might this pretty young thing be?” inquired Harold, directing his attention her way and banishing any chance of imminent escape.

Kind blue eyes regarded her from beneath a pair of bushy, heavy eyebrows.

“This is Dylan’s nanny,” Genie volunteered before anyone else had a chance to speak. “Her name is Heather Burroughs. You might remember her from a concert performance at the Civic Center a few years ago.”

Surprised that Toby’s socialite sister cared enough to remember her name, let alone reference any background information about her, Heather gave Harold a timid smile. Unlike her own father, who was of slight build and sharp temperament, Harold Danforth was at least 230 pounds and had a contagious grin. Shorter than either of his sons, he was nonetheless a big man. Both in heart and stature Heather imagined, if her instincts were correct.

“I’m pleased to meet you,” she offered, feeling an immediate kinship with the man.

“The honor is all mine.”

Words that might sound stilted on the page warmed Heather from the inside out. The man appeared to be a true Southern gentleman through and through. For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine why Toby would want to leave the affection of such a loving family to strike out on his own. Fearing she might even get attached to these people herself if she wasn’t careful, Heather was glad that her job would likely occupy her time for the duration of her stay.