Soldier's Redemption by Alice Sharpe Page A

sauces were a little tricky for a guy who was still more accustomed to eating MREs in a trench.
    They were crossing the foyer when a loud knock sounded and the butler showed up. He ushered in a slightly built man with slick blond hair that looked damp—it must have started raining. The man took off his coat and all but threw it at the butler. Ignoring Cole, he made straight for Luca, who towered over him.
    Ian Banderas in the pale flesh, and mad as a hornet, as well.
    He spoke rapidly and in a language Cole understood three words of: hello, goodbye and please. As far as he could tell, Banderas didn’t say a single one of those words.
    Futura scowled at Ian in response. In fact, it looked as if the older man wanted to pitch Banderas out altogether. Instead, he spoke to the butler, who led Banderas away toward what Cole assumed was the den.
    Futura turned back to Cole and spread his hands. “I am very sorry, Mr. Bennett. This situation demands my attention. My associate should never have come here, but now that he has—well, suffice to say I will have to terminate our evening without the brandy. Perhaps if business brings you back to Traterg, you will look us up. Until then, good night.”
    The butler was back with Cole’s coat in hand, leaving Cole with little choice but to gracefully make his exit.
    He stood outside the door under the portico as the rain drummed overhead, contemplating walking back to the hotel in the rain or calling a cab. Luca must have been more upset than he let on to dismiss a guest without asking if he needed help. Not that Cole did. It was just a little over four miles and the walk, wet or not, would do him good.
    What really kept him standing there was the fact that he had hardly spoken to Skylar. She’d been polite that evening but nothing more, the kisses and growing intimacy of the night before missing as though they’d never happened. He shouldn’t care. He’d used her to get in the front door, and while there was still need for a return visit, he could think of another strategy if he had to.
    What bothered him was the concern he’d said or done something the night before that had alerted her to his secret mission. What if she said something to her uncle? That was the problem, right? Not that he wanted more of her, just that she might jeopardize what he had to do.
    So why did her demeanor that evening leave him feeling alone? He hardly ever felt that way—not as an only kid growing up or as a soldier with his own agenda or during the months of hospital care and recuperation for his injured leg. Vulnerability was a luxury he couldn’t afford. Never had.
    He stepped into the rain and started down the curving drive until he heard his name called and turned. Skylar stood under the portico now, her fair hair gleaming in the overhead light. As he stood staring at her, she dashed out to meet him.
    “You left without saying goodbye,” she said.
    “Your uncle had a guest. And truthfully, I didn’t know if you’d care. You were so formal tonight.”
    “It’s that house,” she said, hugging herself. “It gets to me. Normally it’s okay, but seeing you there just felt weird and watching my aunt struggle to act normal was painful. She and my uncle try so hard to pretend nothing is wrong.”
    “Is her prognosis good?”
    “Yes. If she can survive the treatments, she should recover. She’s just worn out.”
    “I shouldn’t have come,” he said, feeling like the lowest bug on earth.
    “No, that’s why she wanted me to go upstairs with her, so she could tell me how nice she thought you were. She enjoyed meeting you. It’s just me being a worrywart. I’m sorry.”
    “You don’t have to be sorry.” He brushed wet hair away from her forehead. “You’re getting all wet.”
    “I don’t care. It feels great out here.”
    “It’s kind of cold. Where’s your coat?”
    “I didn’t want to take time to find it. I just wanted to say good-night.”
    He’d waited long enough that