After she left, Julia looked at Paul. “You go camping with your nephew?”
His eyes glowed with affection. “As often as I can. The last camping trip we took, he got sprayed by a skunk. He said it was the best weekend ever.”
“So you slept in a tent with him?” She couldn’t wrap her mind around the idea.
“Sure did. Which meant I nearly got sprayed by the skunk too. Eric snuck food into the tent, and the skunk decided he wanted to share. My nephew tried to protect his Doritos and I had to referee.”
She enjoyed her mental image of Paul, dressed only in a pair of gym shorts—since that’s what her stepbrothers always slept in—standing between a small boy clutching a bag of chips and a glowering skunk. “Sounds like you failed since Eric got sprayed.”
“I found out skunks don’t speak Latin.”
“Latin?”
“When I told the skunk the Doritos were not bona vacantia, and therefore he was committing a trespass de bonis asportatis, he didn’t grasp the concept.”
“I sympathize with the skunk.”
His grin glimmered in the candlelight. “The Doritos were not ownerless goods and he was committing larceny.”
“Seems to me he should have sprayed you.”
“He didn’t want to end up in court. Skunks are notoriously averse to litigation.”
Laughter bubbled up her throat. Being with Paul was better than drinking champagne. It felt as though she’d been living in twilight until she journeyed to Sanctuary and found him and her whisper horse.
She sobered at the thought of Darkside. “There’s something I need to tell you,” she said, fidgeting with one of the empty champagne flutes a busboy had placed on the table.
“You stole those paintings from another artist.”
“What! Of course I—oh, you’re joking.” She scowled at him. “This is serious.”
He slid the flute away from her restless fingers.
She lifted an eyebrow at him, since he was the worst offender when it came to twirling dishes. She spread her hands flat on the table. “Sharon was right. Darkside is definitely my whisper horse.”
Paul pressed his lips together.
Julia rushed to explain. “I know you think he’s dangerous and I’m just asking to be hurt, but it’s important for me to figure out why he’s in my paintings.”
He stared at the small fire guttering in the stone hearth before he brought his eyes back to her. “Do you know why Sharon owns Darkside?”
Julia shook her head.
“Because he put his previous owner in a wheelchair. They were going to destroy the horse, but Sharon—who is as certifiable as you are—offered to take him.”
“His old owner must have done something to make him behave that way.” Horror at the thought of her magnificent whisper horse being killed had her by the throat.
“He’s a killer, Julia.”
“No. I’ve looked in his eyes and there’s no darkness, just confusion.” She sat forward. “I can help him.”
A muscle in Paul’s jaw worked. “You have to do what you have to do.”
“So you understand.”
“No, but I’m not your uncle.”
She reached across to tuck her hand in his. “I don’t mind when you try to protect me. It’s kind of sexy.”
Julia heaved a sigh of relief as she saw a real smile tilt the corners of Paul’s lips. “You say the damnedest things.”
She had been expecting him to explode at any minute and had been mentally kicking herself for bringing up Darkside. However, it seemed likely he would find out from someone else, and she didn’t want Paul to think she had broken any promises.
Lisa interrupted their conversation to pour the champagne. As Paul raised his glass, his cell phone emitted a series of shrill rising notes.
“Not now,” he muttered.
The cell phone sounded again, the notes seeming faster and more urgent. He raked a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry. I have to take this call.” Standing, he walked toward an empty alcove of the small dining room with the phone to his ear. As he moved away, she heard him say, “Jimmy?”
He had reacted the minute he heard the ringtone, which meant it had to be someone with a powerful claim on him. Lisa had mentioned his brother, Jimmy, so Julia suspected he was the caller.
After a short conversation, Paul dropped the phone back in his pocket. When he turned, she could see tension in the set of his shoulders and the hard-etched lines of his face. “I’m sorry, but I have to take you back to the inn. There’s a family matter that needs dealing with now.” His face softened as he looked down at her. “This is not how I wanted our evening to end.”