After Glow

Chapter 19

Lydia was sitting in her tiny living room at six-thirty that evening, drinking a cup of rez-tea and watching the fog roll in over the Dead City, when the phone rang. Fuzz, curled on the sofa beside her, twitched a little in response.

"Don't bother," Lydia said to him, rising to her feet. "I'll get it."

She scooped up the phone. "Hello?"

"Where the hell are you?" Emmett asked. Each word sounded as if it had been cut from a block of ice with a chain saw.

The potent blend of anger and pain and dread that had been brewing in her ever since she had left his office that afternoon pulsed through her. She would not lose her temper, she vowed. She could be just as stone cold as any Guild boss.

"I'm home, of course," she said with exaggerated patience. "As you obviously know since you just dialed this number. Where are you? Still at the office?"

"I'm at my townhouse, which is where you're supposed to be. You live here now."

"No, I don't live at your townhouse. I spent a few nights there, including last night, but I never actually moved my stuff into your place. I'm still paying rent here."

"Damn it, this is about what happened today in my office, isn't it? You're still upset."

"What was I supposed to do after you made it clear you didn't need or want a wife?"

"I never said that. I said I didn't want you involved in Guild business."

"Well, since you're all about Guild business," she retorted, "it's going to be a little tricky staying out of your affairs, isn't it? I'm doing my best, though. That's why I'm keeping this place."

"We're married, Lydia."

"It's just a Marriage of Convenience, remember? I figure convenience is the operative word."

"It's the key word, all right, and I don't find it very convenient to have my wife living six blocks away. I've got a piece of paper that says you're committed to me for a full year. As far as I'm concerned this MC of ours is the equivalent of a business contract."

She was starting to feel a lot more cheerful, she thought. Emmett wasn't nearly as cold-blooded as he sometimes appeared.

"Nothing in that contract says we have to live together," she pointed out politely.

"Marriage implies a shared residence and you know it."

"Careful, Emmett, you're starting to sound like a lawyer. What are you going to do if I don't move in with you? Sue me?"

"I think I can come up with something a little more creative than a lawsuit," Emmett said, sounding dangerous. "I'm a Guild boss, after all."

"Is that a threat?"

"It sure is. And now that we've got that settled, let's talk about tonight. I'll pick you up at eight-thirty. As soon as we've put in an appearance at that damned ball, we'll go straight back to your place, collect some of your stuff and Fuzz, and come back here. Tomorrow I'll arrange to have a moving van pack up the rest of your belongings and transfer them here."

She lounged against the kitchen counter. "Don't be ridiculous. You don't have time to go through the yellow pages and select a moving company. You're running the Guild."

"Who said anything about going through the phone book? I'll have Perkins handle it."

"Gee, it must be nice to have an administrative assistant."

"Comes in handy. See you at eight-thirty."

He de-rezzed the connection before she could respond.

Slowly she replaced the phone and smiled at Fuzz.

"I do believe that I got his attention, Fuzz. Pack your bags. We're moving into his place tonight."

She heard the key in the front door precisely at eight-thirty. Fuzz skittered eagerly toward the tiny foyer.

She went back to the mirror to check her reflection for what had to be the millionth time. She still couldn't quite believe that the sophisticated-looking creature in the glass was really her.

Midnight looked even more sleek and glamorous tonight than it had when she had tried it on in the boutique. The stylist at the salon that afternoon had sculpted her hair into a graceful, elegant chignon that called attention to the nape of her neck and emphasized her eyes.

Following the advice she had been given, she had kept the jewelry to a minimum and made sure that all of it was gold.

"Lydia?" Emmett's voice echoed grimly in the front room.

"I'll be right there," she called back.

She turned away from the mirror and went down the hall. One look at Emmett and she forgot all about her own image.

Dressed in formal black, amber eyes gleaming with power, he looked like an elegantly lethal specter-cat on the hunt. She felt a familiar tingling through all her senses and had to fight the urge to throw herself at him and drag him to the floor.

He watched her come toward him and gave her a slow, sensual smile. Energy hummed in the air. She felt the hair stir on the nape of her bare neck. Heat pooled in her lower body.

"Whatever that dress cost, it was worth it," Emmett said. The words were heavy with sexual promise. "Sure glad you're coming home with me tonight, Mrs. London."

The grand entrance of Restoration Hall was choked with reporters and cameras. In addition, a large crowd had gathered to watch the guests walk the gauntlet of red carpet.

Emmett eased the Slider to a halt directly in front. "Ready?"

Lydia forgot about being cool. A trickle of panic shot through her.

"Oh, jeez," she whispered. "It looks just like it does on the rez-screen every year. I'll bet Melanie and Jack and Zane and Olinda are all watching us right now."

"Whatever you do, just keep smiling," Emmett growled.

Uniformed valets leaped for the doors on both sides of the Slider before Lydia could respond. A hand reached down to assist her.

"It's the new Guild boss and his wife," someone shouted.

A murmur of excitement rippled across the crowd.

Flashbulbs went off like fireworks, dazzling Lydia as she stepped out of the Slider. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision. So much for being cool, she thought. She was afraid to move for fear she would trip on the curb or the edge of the carpet, neither of which she could see because of the black dots dancing in front of her eyes.

And then Emmett was there, taking her arm to steady her. He walked her along the red carpet toward the elaborately gilded doors.

More flashbulbs burst. This time she was ready for them. She kept her smile plastered in place until she and Emmett were safely through the doorway.

She started to say whew, glad that's over but then she caught sight of the long reception line composed of dignitaries, all of whom seemed genuinely awed by the new Guild boss.

At the end of that ritual they were ushered into a vast, glittering ballroom. Lydia thought she was prepared for the setting because she had seen it so many times at home on the rez-screen and in magazine photos.

But no film or picture could do justice to the true splendor of the hall. Massive chandeliers dominated the gilded and mirrored ceiling. Huge murals on the walls told the story of the violence of the Era of Discord and the triumph of the Last Battle of Old Cadence.

"I should have brought my camera," Lydia whispered to Emmett.

He was amused. "Don't worry, there will be plenty of pictures in the papers tomorrow."

There was no time to say anything else because people materialized immediately around Emmett. As Melanie had predicted, he was one of the most powerful men in the room and that meant that everyone wanted to be seen chatting with him.

She was wondering if anyone would notice if she slipped away to get a closer look at the scenes in the massive murals when someone put a glass of sparkling champagne in her hand.

"You look very lovely tonight, Lydia," Gannon Hepscott said.

She turned quickly, delighted to see a familiar face in the crowd. "Mr. Hepscott. I should have realized that you would be here."

He smiled, looking as exotic as ever in an all-white tuxedo. His heavy mane of silver-white hair was tied back with a strip of leather again tonight, just as it had been when she had met with him in his office.

"I was just thinking that this bash was going to be even more boring than usual when I saw you and your husband walk in," Gannon said.

"Do you attend every year?"

"Yes." He shrugged. "It's good business. Frankly, I'd rather be at home with a beer and a bowl of popcorn, watching the festivities on the rez-screen."

She laughed. "That's what I usually do." She waved a hand to include the brilliant scene. "I've got to tell you, this makes a pretty exciting change of pace."

He chuckled and glanced at Emmett, who was involved in a conversation with the mayor of Cadence.

"Your new husband looks like he's going to be busy for a while. May I have this dance?"

"I'd be delighted."

She put her glass down on a passing tray. As if the tiny clink of sound had caught his ear, Emmett suddenly glanced in her direction. The corners of his eyes tightened almost imperceptibly. She wiggled her fingers and smiled very brightly to let him know that she was fine and that he didn't have to worry about her becoming a wallflower. Then she turned back to Gannon and allowed him to lead her out onto the floor.

The musicians were playing a sedate dance number. Gannon took her into his arms. She was amused to notice that he was careful to keep her at a polite, respectful distance. What man in his right mind would want to irritate the new Guild boss by dancing too closely with his wife?

"I have to tell you, the news of your marriage came as something of a shock, Lydia," Gannon said dryly. "I was aware that you were seeing London but I had no idea that the two of you were serious."

"Mmm." She couldn't think of anything more intelligent to say.

"I suppose the situation with Mercer Wyatt prompted you and London to move your plans forward?"

"Mmm."

"I realize that in your new role as the wife of one of the most powerful men in town you're going to be extremely busy. Does this mean that I should be looking for a new antiquities consultant?" Gannon asked.

Horrified, Lydia stumbled and would have fallen ignominiously on her rear right there in the middle of the dance floor if Gannon had not steadied her.

"No," she said, anxious to reassure him. "The marriage changes nothing. Really. I fully intend to continue to pursue my professional career, Mr. Hepscott."

"You're sure? A man in London's position probably makes a lot of social demands on his wife."

"Hardly any," she said airily. "Certainly none that will interfere with my professional activities. I've already made a lot of progress on your project. I've notified several of my best contacts on Ruin Row and I've made some appointments to look at some very interesting relics."

"I'm relieved to hear you say that. I'll admit that I've been looking forward to working with you. Don't laugh, but I have to tell you that if life had turned out a little differently for me, I might have gotten a degree in para-archaeology, myself."

"Is that so? What happened? Did you realize that you could make a lot more money in real estate?"

"No. Believe it or not, making money was never a big goal for me. It just came with the territory, so to speak. You know how it goes. You agree to work in the family firm for a few years after you graduate and then one morning you wake up and discover that you're running the business and that several hundred people are depending on you for a paycheck."

"I understand." She smiled to hide the wave of old sadness and lingering loss that still had the power to surprise her with its depths now and again at unexpected moments. "Well, sort of. I have to admit I never had to worry much about family pressure."

His hold tightened imperceptibly and his pale eyes softened. "But not for a good reason, I take it?"

"My folks were ruin explorers. They went on expeditions to find and map lost sites in remote locations. They were killed in a freakish storm that caused a massive landslide that wiped out their base camp."

"And now you're all alone in the world?" Gannon asked gently.

"No, she is not alone in the world," Emmett said in a stunningly dangerous voice. "She's got a husband."

Gannon brought Lydia to a halt, released her, and turned to face Emmett. "I don't believe we've been introduced."

Lydia could feel the tension sizzling in the air. It baffled her at first, and then, when she realized that Emmett was doing the intimidation thing with his eyes, she got annoyed.

"Mr. Hepscott, this is my husband, Emmett London," she said swiftly. "Emmett, this is Gannon Hepscott, my new client. I've mentioned him on several occasions. The Underground Experience Resort project?"

"Hepscott."

"London." Gannon's smile could only be described as taunting. "I'm looking forward to working closely with your wife. I was just telling her that I have always had a keen interest in para-archaeology."

"Is that right?" Emmett said.

Gannon's smile held an unmistakable challenge. He was either supremely confident in his own position and power or else he just wasn't very bright, Lydia thought.

"Lydia and I are going to make a terrific team," Gannon said, loading the words with nuance.

Emmett's brows rose slightly. "Think so?"

"How can we miss?" Gannon chuckled. "I've got the money and she's got the brains. Should make for a perfect partnership."

Lydia went from annoyed to nervous. What was going on here? She could have sworn that Gannon was deliberately baiting Emmett.

"My wife is a very busy woman," Emmett said.

"For now." Gannon shrugged. "But I hear the two of you got an MC, not a Covenant Marriage. A year goes by very quickly, doesn't it?"

She had to do something and she had to do it fast, Lydia decided. She stepped smartly between the two men.

"Do you know this is my first time inside the Restoration Hall ballroom," she said lightly. "I'm so impressed with the murals. I've read about them and seen reproductions, of course, but I had no idea of the size and scale. Aren't they magnificent?"

Emmett and Gannon looked at her.

"The scope and the brilliance of the painting takes your breath away, doesn't it?" Lydia waved grandly at the closest mural, which depicted a battle between a band of intrepid ghost-hunters and Vincent Lee Vance's minions. "Of course, the subject matter is so inspiring. I mean, it was such a near thing, wasn't it? Vance came so close to establishing his crazed vision of a dictatorship. If it hadn't been for the Guilds who knows where we would all be today?"

"The hunters certainly earned their pay during the Era of Discord." Gannon glanced at Emmett with amused disdain. "And we've been paying them off ever since."

He inclined his head to Lydia, gave Emmett his shoulder, and walked away into the crowd.

Emmett watched him go. Lydia did not like the expression on his face.

"Don't even think about causing a scene, London," she warned out of the side of her mouth. "I will never, ever forgive you."

"Okay, but you know, I really hate it when a guy like that gets the good exit line."

She was so relieved she started to giggle. The heads of several people who had been listening discreetly to the exchange between the two men turned toward her in open curiosity. Horrified, she clapped a hand over her mouth but her shoulders were shaking with laughter and she could feel her eyes threatening to tear. Panicked at the thought of ruining her carefully applied makeup, she blinked rapidly.

Emmett swept her out onto the dance floor before she could make a complete fool of herself.

The moment of hysteria passed. She started to wonder if she was dreaming. She was in the arms of the man she loved and she was dancing at the Restoration Ball. Amberella, eat your heart out.

An hour later she found herself standing with a group of women that included the wives of two representatives to the City-State Federation, a famous actress, and a prominent socialite.

The conversation was not going well. The glamorous excitement of the evening was fading fast as reality set in. Oh, sure, the dancing was fun and she was taking mental notes on every celebrity she saw so that she could report back to Melanie. But the grim necessity of making small talk with a lot of boring, superficial people who seemed interested only in making sure that everyone else knew how much power and influence they wielded was becoming extremely tiresome.

It was just an upscale version of the old game of one-upmanship, she thought. All in all, not much different from the dull sherry hours she'd been obliged to attend while on the faculty at the university. Except that the clothes here were a lot better.

"An interesting gown," the socialite said, giving Lydia's dress an appraising look. "I heard it was a Finella but it certainly doesn't have her classic signature look. A knockoff, from one of the other salons, perhaps?"

Translated, that meant that everyone now knew she wasn't wearing one of the designer's originals, Lydia thought. The actress and the two politicians' wives perked up immediately. Red meat at last.

Lydia smiled at the socialite. Did the blonde fool think she could be intimidated so easily? She'd dealt with arrogant, ambitious professors who could slice another scholar to ribbons with one scathing crack about the quality of the other person's research.

"Finella's designs are beautiful but a bit too, well, shall we say, traditional for my taste," Lydia said. "I prefer a more cutting-edge look. This gown was created by a new designer who works in Finella's salon. His name is Charles. Finella thinks he's a genius. I agree."

There was a short pause while they all absorbed that sally. If they did not go along with her they would find themselves in the position of disagreeing with the taste and judgment of the great Finella. On the other hand, if they showed approval they would be acknowledging that Lydia's gown was spectacular.

Unfortunately, before any of the women could untangle herself from the trap Lydia had set, Emmett materialized at her elbow. Instantly all attention switched to him. Lydia was sure she saw naked lust in the actress's eyes.

"Ladies." Emmett acknowledged the small group and took Lydia's arm. "Would you mind if I steal my wife away for another dance?"

"Newlyweds," the actress said, sarcasm dripping like poison. "They're so cute."

Lydia pretended that she had not heard the remark and made her farewells.

Emmett drew her quickly into the densest part of the crowd. Her first reaction was relief at the speedy escape from the unpleasant company.

"Am I glad to see you," she said. Then she noticed that they were on the opposite side of the ballroom, heading toward a side door, not the dance floor. "What's going on?"

"We're leaving, but I want to slip out without attracting any attention."

"Why?"

"I just got a message from Verwood. He's waiting out back with the Slider."

"What is it? Did Wyatt take a turn for the worse?"

"No. Verwood found his former mistress Sandra Thornton."