The Black Sheep Heir. Crystal Green

he said. “Not yet, at least.”

      She perked up at that. “Great. Just give me a minute to dish the flan and—”

      “But let’s go for a change of scenery. Okay? On my way over here I noticed that the air’s friendly, and it’s a good night for—”

      He cut himself off, thinking of past twilights sitting on the porch with Emily Webster, watching the sun as it changed angles over the manicured lawns of their hometown street. She’d always wanted to talk about wedding dresses or caterers during these reverent moments. He’d merely wanted to watch in silence. He wondered if Lacey would want to talk his ears off, too.

      “It’s a good night for just enjoying the peace of it,” he finished.

      She nodded, as if understanding. “You’ve had enough Spanish guitars, I suppose.”

      He didn’t say a word, merely lifted a brow in response. She’d said it better than he could’ve anyway.

      Later, after donning their heavy weather gear, both of them carried their desserts outside. Conn had been right, too. The hushed air was a blanket of moonlight, sweeping over the ground and its comforter of snow. Flakes sparkled in intervals, holding together the countryside with glittering stitches.

      Lacey waved him away from the big house’s flood-lights, then trudged over to a dark, hidden nook, brushing off a stone bench with a gloved hand before inviting him to take a seat next to her.

      As his eyes adjusted, Conn saw that they were sitting by what seemed to be a pagoda-lined Japanese stone garden.

      The craggy silhouettes of three-foot stone lanterns and miniature bridges stood guard over snow-fluttered rocks and a pond. He could imagine the pooled ice melting to water in the springtime, offering relaxation, a place to escape.

      “This rivals my front porch in Montana,” he said, his voice lowered so as not to disturb the moment.

      He heard a soft murmur from Lacey, an acknowledgment, really. Then that was that.

      They just sat there for a while, poking at their custardlike dessert, neither of them actually eating anything.

      Damn, he felt huge and out of place sitting next to her, camped among these miniature models of Japanese architecture.

      Sliding a glance over to Lacey, he caught his breath. Moonlight breathed over her skin, smoothing over her cheek with the luminescent texture of a pearl necklace. She’d closed her eyes, a slight smile curving her lips.

      “What’s so amusing?” he asked. Damn the silence. It was killing him.

      She laughed and opened her eyes, staring at the shadows of her rock garden. “Full circles,” she said. “Everything comes full circle sometime or another.”

      “I’m not going to pretend I know what you’re talking about.”

      Or did he?

      She lifted up both her hands in a so-help-me gesture. “A long time ago, I lived somewhere that had a stone garden. I could put my head together there. I could be left alone to think. It’s funny, but all I ever wanted to do was get out of that place with its garden. And I did. But look where I am now—in another pagoda-accessorized location just like it. One that I cultivated.”

      Her voice ended on a note of such wistfulness it was all Conn could do to keep to himself. He wanted to put an arm around her shoulders, nestle her against him, offer comfort. It was only natural for him to reach out to people—he’d grown up in a house where hugs and touches were a part of life.

      But here in Kane’s Crossing, it was a bad idea.

      “So this is full circle for you, huh?” he asked. “You’re back where you started.”

      “Pretty much.” She seemed to snap out of her daze, turning so she faced him. “Somehow I think you’re doing the same thing. Don’t ask me why.”

      He wouldn’t. That was for damned sure. The fact that she could guess he was on his way to closing up the loose ends of his and his mother’s lives was too uncomfortable to think about.

      Was he that much of a simpleton? Was he that obvious, bumbling around the woods without much of a plan to confront the Spencers?

      “Don’t worry. I won’t ask why you think I’m on some sort of mission,” he said, putting a cap on the conversation.

      She turned forward again, toward the garden. “Did you get much information during your bird-watching session today?”

      She knew. Lacey Vedae knew what he was doing with those binoculars. Game over.

      “Not much,” he said.

      A pause spanned the distance between them. “Listen, Connor. I don’t know exactly what you’re trying to accomplish in those woods, but I’ll warn you about messing with the people who live in the Spencer mansion. You don’t want to do it.”

      Could he still get away with acting like he didn’t know what she was talking about? Could he still be the innocuous country boy from Montana?

      Worth a try. “I don’t mean to get involved in their business.”

      He hoped the message held a double meaning for her.

      “Do you have any idea what the Spencers are all about?” she asked.

      “You’re a tenacious little devil.”

      “That’s not the half of it, you know. If you take it into your head to go around Kane’s Crossing asking about that family, you’d best watch yourself. Half this town would go to war for them because that’s the way it’s always been. The Spencers have owned this town since the beginning, and some people don’t want that to change.”

      Now he was the one turning toward her, too interested to care how his body language was giving him away. “How about the other half?”