Page 98 of The Rented Bride

Chapter Nineteen

Trent stared out the window of his grandfather’s room. Despite a month in which to prepare, he couldn’t believe the bigger-than-life man who had raised him would never again walk into his office with an idea for a new business venture or a suggestion for dinner. How was that possible? How would he go on without his grandfather?

And how would Brettonwood be home without him? Trent couldn’t count the hours they’d spent watching the snow fall in the winter, the birds and fawns in the spring, the bright stars over the mountains during long summer nights, or the colors change in the fall. Brettonwood belonged to his grandfather, not him. It had taken ten years, but his grandfather had brought Brettonwood from Scotland, stone by stone. The castle had been in their family for three generations. Four, counting Trent. Brettonwood was his grandfather. He hadn’t realized it until now, but he couldn’t stay.

Rebecca had signed his grandfather’s death certificate and had overseen the removal of his body to Woodbury Funeral Home. There was nothing left. Trent would find a place in Denver. It wouldn’t be home, but at least he wouldn’t be haunted at every turn by his grandfather’s ghost. Trent could easily move his business into the city. Speaking of business…He needed to take care of Cassie. His chest tightened. She’d fulfilled her part of their bargain. She hadn’t just played a part. She’d genuinely cared for James. Even knowing the truth, that she was a rented bride, Grandfather had died peacefully, surrounded by family.

Trent thought of his grandfather’s dying declaration that Trent had fallen in love with Cassie. He shook his head and smiled. Trent never could hide the truth from the old man. But it didn’t matter. Once again, he was too late. The story of his life. He’d waited too long and turned love into a business deal. He’d already contacted his attorney and told him to wire twenty thousand dollars into Cassie’s bank account. When he’d thought of all she’d done—had it only been a week?—since he’d known her, he’d wanted to give her more.

And you want more, a small voice said.

Trent swallowed the lump in his throat.

Cassie had a life she needed to get back to. And he had a life he needed to forget.

***

Heart pounding, Cassie hesitated outside Trent’s room. She’d known he would take his grandfather’s death hard, but the reality was even worse than she’d feared. Why wouldn’t it be? How could anyone truly imagine losing the person they loved most in the world? She knocked on the door. A moment passed and she wondered if he’d heard. She knocked again.

Another moment passed, then Trent called, “Who is it?”

‘It’s Cassie. Can I come in?”

“Of course.”

She drew in a deep breath, entered, then halted. Moonlight streamed into the darkened room. Trent stretched his legs out on the bed, his back propped up on pillows against the headboard.

“I’m sorry to bother you. All my clothes are in here,” she said.

“I’ll get out.” He slid his legs from the bed.

“Don’t you dare move,” Cassie ordered.

He froze.

“I can gather my things and sleep in my old room.”

He relaxed back against the headboard. She went to the dresser, opened a drawer, felt for her cotton pajamas and found them. She grabbed a clean pair of panties from another drawer. Cassie turned, clutching her clothes. She wanted like hell to be anywhere but there, but she didn’t want to leave either. Stupid, stupid girl. Their arrangement had ended. He needed to grieve and she needed perspective. She started toward the door.

“Thank you, Cassie.”

She stopped and turned. “You’re welcome.”

“You made him happy.”

“I think we made him happy,” she said, then cursed silently. She should just shut up. “He was a good man,” she said. “I was lucky to know him for the short time I did.”

“He was the best,” Trent sighed. “I remember once; I was fourteen or fifteen. I went snowboarding with friends in the back country.” He snorted. “Young and dumb. Strong. Arrogant. We thought we were invincible. I was the last one to go down the mountain. We triggered a small avalanche. I say small, but I ended up buried under a foot of snow pack. It’s like being buried in cement. None of us were wearing transmitters. Ski patrol started a search, but it was my grandfather who came to the mountain to find me.”

“Since you’re here he must have found you,” Cassie said.

“I was lucky. I had a pocket of air. But if it hadn’t been for him, I wouldn’t have made it.” He gave a small laugh. “God, he was angry. Grounded me for a month.”

“Did you ever snowboard again?” Cassie asked.

“Absolutely—but after nearly killing myself, I’d gained a little more respect for the mountains. I also realized what it would do my grandfather if something happened to me.”

“I can’t imagine how scared he must have been,” she said.