Creighton Manor by Karen Michelle Nutt Page A

there was absolutely no color to brighten up the place. She shuddered inwardly. Spending too much time in this cheerless room would eventually send anyone into a deep depression. If she was to stay here any length of time, she vowed to make changes, but first, she needed to find a brush. Her gaze ventured to the dresser. She found more than she had hoped. There was a comb, brush and a water basin. She smiled again. Zachary may not know how to decorate a home, but he did know how to please a woman. She washed her face and brushed her long auburn strands free from tangles. She left it loose and flowing down her back. She then ventured downstairs to find out whom Zachary entertained.
    ***
    “I cannot believe my own ears, Zachary Creighton. Why don’t you want to make a grand display of your marriage? At least, let me enjoy that much, since you didn’t have the decency to invite me to the wedding.” Walking, cane in hand, the older woman made her way to the sofa. She took a seat, her eyes pinning Zachary with a glare that spoke of authority. He leaned against the fireplace mantle, his jaw muscles moving back and forth, as he clenched his teeth .
    Gillian took in the s cene at the doorway of the library. Smiling her sweetest smile, she greeted the two in the room. “Good morning. Isn’t it a spectacular day?” 
    Zachary’s gaze riveted to hers a frown penetrating his features. He obviously failed to see the wonder of the day. Discussing his sudden voyage into matrimony probably didn’t help his disposition. Gillian chose to ignore his glare of warning. Instead, she turned her full attention to the silver-haired woman seated on the sofa. She wore a mauve colored dress, long and full with a lace collar to cover her neck. Even though the day proved warm, she wore a V-shaped jacket to match. Fine smile lines etched her still attractive features. The woman stood. She gripped a cane with a gold top, but as far as Gillian could see, she really didn’t need the use of one. She walked toward her with authority, proving the cane was more of a showpiece.
    The woman circled around Gillian. She finally stopped in front of her. Neither one wavered from their gaze. Gillian then noticed the twinkle of amusement in the older woman’s eyes, blue eyes, exactly the same shade as Zachary’s. The woman had to be a relative. In the next moment, her suspicions were confirmed. The woman smiled warmly and stated rather than asked, “So you’re the woman my grandson has married. I do believe you’ve made a splendid choice, Zachary.” She said this without ever looking at him. “She’s breathtaking with all that ravishingly gorgeous auburn hair. Is there Irish blood running through your veins?”
    Gillian’s brows rose at the odd question, but before she could answer, Zachary explained, “Lotti,” she couldn’t help but notice he didn’t call this woman, grandma. “…insists the best people in the world have Irish blood running through their veins.”
    “It’s true.” Zachary’s grandmother defended her beliefs. “My husband, God rest his soul, was a wonderful man, but he was English through and through. I am convinced the blue blood ruined Zachary’s father.”
    Seeing the look of bewilderment on Gillian’s face, Lotti nervously glanced at her grandson. “Didn’t you tell her anything about the family?”
    “I told you it was a fast courtship .”
    Gillian thought if his grandmother knew how hasty it really was, she’d have a coronary.
    Lotti turned her attention back to Gillian. “Well let me tell you, since it seems Zachary has failed to do so himself. Let’s take a seat, first.” They walked back to the sofa.
    “I see you found your shoes,” Zachary commented as he nodded toward her feet.
    “Yes.” Gillian looked at them before she met his gaze with a smile. “Thank you.”
    Lotti blinked and pursed her lips in distaste, but she remained the perfect lady and didn’t say anything. She sat next to Gillian on the