The American Heir(26)

His suite was empty, too. I went back to mine, working up the courage to   go looking for him in the rest of the castle. Had he decided he wanted  a  midnight snack? It was the appropriate hour for it.

I didn't know what drew me to the window, but something did. I peered   out, half expecting to see him taking a midnight stroll. The lawn was   empty. But the light was back in the Ghost Tower, very faint. Just a   flicker. But it was there.   





 

No.

I knew exactly where he was. I didn't bother to look for the key. I was sure he had it. I took off after him.



Riggins

"Are you going to stand there in the dark looking like you've seen a   ghost?" My derelict, and decidedly not dead, father got casually to his   feet, surprisingly limber for a man his age.

He spoke with a strong British accent. Which I found startling and   surprisingly foreign. All my life I'd known he was British on an   intellectual level. But somehow, in my mind, whenever I imagined meeting   him, he always sounded American.

If I'd been raised British, or had been a linguist, I could have told   where he was from and what kind of accent it was exactly. To my American   ears it was simply middle-class British. Not aristocratic on the one   side. Not Cockney on the other. He was taller than I expected. His voice   deeper, with a tone that women would find sexy. I hated to admit it,   but I could see how Mom would have been attracted to him.

I hated him, but even I had to admit he had magnetism. At the same time,   he was just as cocky and arrogantly confident as I expected from the   little I knew of him. And irritatingly charming in a roguish way.

He was a good thirty years older than the picture my mom had kept on her   dresser all those years, but still slender and fit. Still had a thick   head of graying hair.

His face was lined with hard living, but, as much as it galled me, he   was still a good-looking man. Even with the bags beneath his eyes. His   face had lost the slenderness of youth and filled out. It had also lost   the defined edges and was beginning to sag. He was on the border of   developing jowls, but somehow that only made him look mature and   distinguished. He had the distinctive and arresting Feldhem eyes. I   looked too damn much like him for comfort.

I reluctantly dropped the rifle from my shoulder. I'd dreamed of   punching the shit out of him since I'd been small. Now that I had my   opportunity, I restrained myself.

"Hello, Dad. If I look like I'm seeing a ghost, it's because I am.   You're supposedly dead. What are you doing haunting the Ghost Tower?   It's a bit clichéd. Are the gates of hell open now? Is there a demon's   holiday I should be aware of?"

He laughed. "Nice to see you, too, Riggins. They told me you had a sense of humor."

He may have found the whole thing funny, but I was chilled to the bone.   His sense of timing was impeccably off. I hadn't wanted this damn   dukedom in the first place. But now that I had it and a child on the   way, I sure as hell didn't want to hand it over to this reprobate loser   to destroy. And have to watch him do it.

He looked past me over my shoulder. "You must have been expecting me. You came alone. Or will security be here any minute?"

He was perceptive.

"Not until I call them."

"You wouldn't want to do that." He held the lighter up to my face and   frowned. "You have me at a disadvantage. Take the goggles off so I can   see you."

I flicked my flashlight on and pulled the goggles off, less out of   consideration for him and more for comfort. I let them hang around my   neck as he closed the lighter.

"I assume it's safe to have a light on here?" I said.

He shrugged, studying me closely and smiling. "As safe as anything." His   expression softened as he examined me. "You look like me. But there  are  traces of your mum in you."

"Don't mention her. Don't talk about her. Don't pretend you cared about   her." I refused to tell him she'd longed for him until the end. I   refused to let him know he'd broken her heart.

"Ah, it's that way, then, is it?" He nodded. "It's good you're defending your mum. I'm sorry she's gone."

Maybe he was, but only in a peripheral, abstract way. I changed the   subject before I gave in to my desire to take a swing at him. "How long   have you been hanging around here? You're scaring Haley. And how have   you managed to avoid the security cameras and security details?"

"Sorry to upset my beautiful daughter-in-law. That wasn't my intention.   She's very perceptive. I only wanted to see her and my boy." He winked.   "You know the answer to your first question." He sounded amused.  "Since  your honeymoon."

There was a chill in the tower. It crept down my back at the thought of   my father watching our every move. And yet I had suspected it for some   time. "And the security cameras and guards?" I paused. "You obviously   have a key to the tower. But how did you get past security?"   





 

He shrugged. "It was part of the deal the Dead Duke gave me to   disappear. I can come home to this place any time I like, as long as I'm   not seen. As you say, I have a key to the tower. And I know these   grounds as well as anyone. The late duke made sure of that.

"He arranged the security cameras so that they have blind spots and I   can avoid them at will. He gave me the plans and arranged the security   details to leave me alone.

"This tower, with its history and its hauntings, is the perfect hideaway   for a dead man like me. It was easy enough for him to order the tower   locked at all times. Who would want to visit a haunted tower, anyway?   Only the bravest.

"Everything was fine until you came along and started playing havoc with   the security teams, changing things up, and making it more risky for  me  to stay here."

"You're not afraid to stay here?" I was curious.

"With the ghosts?" He laughed again. "I'm no coward. And not afraid of   the supernatural. This place is nothing more than a creaky old   building."

"It's not exactly homey."

"This room isn't part of my main quarters. There's a secret room   accessible only by a hidden door. It was built as a place for the duke   and his family to hide. That's where I live when I'm here. It's   windowless, but quite comfortable. Fully plumbed. With Internet access   and electricity. All I need now is for you to call off all this extra   security you've been adding."

I stared him down. "Not so fast. What do you want?" I clutched the rifle tightly. "Money? Or are you here to claim the title?"

His booming laughter echoed off the walls. "No thanks, Your Grace. The   title's all yours, you little American shit," he said affectionately.

"Good to hear, you old British bastard. You haven't answered my question."

"There was a time when I was young and impressionable that I could   picture myself as lord of the castle, sure enough. Until it was   explained to me by our late predecessor how my life would be if I didn't   step aside. The late duke was never keen on me inheriting this   beautiful estate. Though I can't imagine why." He laughed robustly.

"The bloody controlling old man." He shook his head, but it was as if he   was mocking himself. "Once he laid it out, and detailed the   responsibilities, I didn't want the dukedom after all. Like father, like   son."

I balled my fist, trying to control my temper. We weren't alike at all. I   had never wanted the dukedom. Nor even known it was going to be mine.   He had wanted it at one point for its treasures. I didn't want it   because of the obligation.

"The old Dead Duke-isn't that what you call him?-made it clear that I'd   be left with an albatross around my neck and not much more. He didn't   trust me with his legacy. Or cash."

"On that point we agree." I shifted the rifle.

"But he trusts you. He wouldn't have left me a penny to enjoy." His eyes   sparkled maliciously, filled with jealousy and envy. "He left things  to  you all neat and tidy, though, didn't he, son?" He scoffed. "As if  you  needed more money."

"I earned what I have," I said as evenly as I could, trying not to let   shock and anger get the best of me. "You sure as hell didn't leave me   anything or give me a grand start in life."

He didn't have the good grace to flinch. He'd left Mom and me in dire   straits. She'd scrimped and barely eked out a meager living for us my   entire childhood. And all the while he'd been the heir to a fortune. I   wondered if Mom even knew about it.

"As for me-the Dead Duke blackmailed me into taking the title and estate. I never wanted it." Until now.