Legions (Georgia Smoke #7)

Eighteen

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I imagine that, as a child, he only needed someone to let him feel safe and give him the opportunity to display his sense of security.

Capri

I’d been living with Thatcher for six months, yet I had only been in his parent’s mansion a handful of times and only once since we’d become a couple. Although this was a family meal to celebrate his father’s birthday, and Sebastian would be here with Royal as well, I was still nervous. One would think that Thatcher was the most intimidating member of the family, so I should have no problem doing this. But for me, it was his mother that I felt unsure about. We barely knew each other. Stellan came to the stables, and I’d spoken to him many times. Both he and Mandilyn had been at the Breeders Cup, but even there, she’d done nothing more than give me a tight smile.

It wasn’t like Thatcher was close to her. He rarely spoke of her. Which made my chest ache when I thought about it, so I tried not to. Thinking of that little boy whose mother hadn’t nurtured him properly broke my heart.

“Relax, Little Doll,” Thatcher said, leaning close to my ear.

I glanced up at him as he straightened back up. He winked at me. I tried to do as he said, but my body remained stiff. I couldn’t help it.

I heard feminine laughter as we walked closer to the drawing room or whatever the lady who had met us at the door had told Thatcher where everyone was gathered. She’d been flustered when he walked inside without ringing a bell, or like most people, he just made her nervous.

“I was on the verge of being completely appalled until the sales lady agreed and sold me the purse for twenty-five percent off,” I heard his mother say just as we entered the room.

Sebastian sat on a white velvet sofa, his ankle propped on the opposite knee and a glass of amber liquor in his hand. Royal sat by his side, beaming at whatever Mandilyn said as Stellan poured a glass of something at the bar. Mandilyn was the first to notice us, perched on the edge of a chair, her legs crossed straight, looking regal. Her gaze lost its warmth when they met Thatcher and then me.

Sebastian turned his head to see us, and his smile grew. “About time,” he called out. “I was beginning to think I needed to come rescue Capri.”

Thatcher shot his brother an unamused glance. He then turned to me. “What would you like to drink?” he asked me as if no one else was in the room worth greeting.

I started to say water when I decided I might need something stronger for this. “Champagne?” I asked.

He squeezed my hip once before striding over to where his father was.

“Sit, Capri. We were just listening to Mom share her first bargain shopping experience with Royal,” Sebastian explained.

My eyes shifted to Royal’s as I sat. She was grinning as she looked from Sebastian to me. I tried not to let it bother me that Mandilyn had gone shopping with Royal but never once tried to spend any time with me, and I’d been with Thatcher longer than she had Sebastian. I shoved that aside. That was a silly thing to think about.

Stellan took his glass and turned around, giving me a nod. “Hello, Capri,” he said in greeting.

“Hello,” I replied, feeling more awkward than I had ever been. Thatcher walked back to me with a glass that I was tempted to throw back and ask for a second. I took it and whispered a thank you before placing it to my lips to sip when I wanted to gulp.

“The new practice jockey is working out, it seems,” Stellan said. “What do you think of him, Capri?”

I swallowed my drink then met his pointed look. “Rog is doing great.”

“Don’t have her praise him, Dad. We’ll be stitching him up and looking for a new one before the night is over,” Sebastian said.

I glanced up at Thatcher, who was, in return, watching me.

“I’ve no reason to hurt, Rog, do I, Little doll?” he asked me with that familiar sinister twinkle in his eyes.

“No,” I replied immediately. “Not at all.”

“That’s a relief for us all,” Sebastian replied, the teasing tone in his voice and a tug at the corner of Thatcher’s mouth eased me. They were making jokes. That was all.

“Let’s not talk about unpleasant things,” Mandilyn stood then. “Shall we head to the dining room?” She strode past, giving Thatcher and me a wide berth as if getting too close was dangerous or untasteful. This was the oddest relationship between a mother and her child I’d ever seen.

“Seems the queen has spoken,” Stellan replied, pointing to her retreating form with the glass he was holding. Sebastian and Royal stood and followed. I started to do the same when Thatcher’s hand rested on my back.

He was so blasé about his mother’s standoffish treatment of him. Sure, I’d seen it at Maeme’s on Sundays, but I thought it was just the crowd and all the talking. They were never in the same conversations, so it hadn’t stood out the way it was doing now.

I inched closer to him, needing him to feel wanted, even if he didn’t seem affected by his mother’s treatment. The dining room was fancier than Maeme’s, and shockingly, the table was longer. I couldn’t imagine anyone needing one this long, but here it was. Sebastian led Royal to the other side, and Thatcher pulled out a chair across from Sebastian for me to take. Then, I took the seat opposite Royal. They seemed to know the assigned seating, if that was what this was.

Stellan took the seat on the end closest to us, and Mandilyn sat right beside him and Sebastian. She gave her younger son a loving smile, clearly pleased that he was here and to be close to him. Thatcher was sitting relaxed in his chair, drinking from his glass and studying me. When I realized it, I felt my cheeks warm. His hand slid over to rest on my thigh, where he brushed his thumb back and forth over the skin it touched.

That small connection managed to ease me, and I listened as Stellan spoke about a race that Hughes Farm was entering a horse in next weekend. He and Mandilyn were going. She then turned her head to Sebastian and suggested he and Royal go too. Again, not once acknowledging her oldest son. This was beginning to piss me off. I didn’t care that Thatcher was unaffected by it.

Stellan ignored his wife’s invitation and turned to Thatcher. “Levi mentioned that Garrett was considering selling one of Khan’s colts. You need to follow up with that. Go see it.”

A server placed a creamy soup in front of me, then Thatcher, while another did the same to Stellan and Mandilyn. Lastly, Sebastian and Royal were served. Thatcher lifted his spoon before responding to his father.

“What month is it?”

“February,” Stellan replied.

“Is it worth the price it will bring?” Thatcher asked, taking a spoonful of the creamy mixture to his mouth.

“It’s a winter colt of Khan’s. Levi said he’s stunning.”

Thatcher glanced over at me, and I took my spoon, realizing I had been listening to them and not eating. “It’s mushroom, you’ll like it,” he assured me.

I heard Mandilyn whispering to Sebastian but tried to ignore it while Stellan talked about the colt with Thatcher. They moved from that topic to Teller being trained to handle betting. Stellan said he was good with numbers. Mandilyn asked about Royal’s grandmother and then suggested she come to Easter lunch next month. The conversations moved around, as did the food. Every time something new was brought out, Thatcher told me what it was. His hand remained on my thigh absently, stroking the same spot while speaking with his father and Sebastian.

Never his mother.

Royal engaged me, asking about how long I’d been riding and how I got started; when I mentioned the rodeo, she was even more intrigued. Once the dessert was finished Stellan stood and suggested the ladies go to the sunroom for champagne while he took the boys to show them the footage of a racehorse that he was interested in from stables in Tennessee. I wanted to go with the men to see the race very much, but I hadn’t been included, so I went with Royal as she followed Mandilyn from the room.

Thatcher grabbed my hand before I got far. I glanced back at him. “I won’t be long,” he told me, not caring who heard him.

Feeling like this was when I was supposed to say, “Take your time,” or something similar, I smiled and said, “No rush, “ although I would like him to rush very much.

Royal excused herself to go to the restroom, leaving me with Mandilyn.

When we entered the sunroom, Mandilyn picked up a glass of champagne from the tall, skinny table that also seemed to serve as a tray and sat down. “Well, that was a nice dinner.”

“Yes, it was delicious. Thank you for having me.” The manners my mother drilled into me came out easily enough. I could survive this.

Mandilyn’s eyes slowly drifted over me as if observing me. “You are a tiny thing, yet not at all intimidated by my son.”

I straightened as I held her gaze. “Not now. Once, he intimidated, frightened, and excited me. I never knew what to feel around him. He’s a complex man.”

She took a drink from her glass. “He’s detached. He always has been. Even as a child, he lacked emotion. It surprises me that he’s let someone so close to him.”

I licked my lips and took a calming breath. Snapping at Thatcher’s mom was a bad idea. “He has emotion. It’s not something he displays for others to see, but it’s powerful if you’re lucky enough to experience it. I imagine that, as a child, he only needed someone to let him feel safe and give him the opportunity to display it.”

Her eyes widened slightly as if she wasn’t sure that was a comment directed at her. News flash, Mandilyn, it absolutely was.

“And how do you suggest that one does that? To a child that doesn’t even cry. Shows no remorse. Feels no guilt or pain?”

“Love. When Thatcher knows someone loves him. When he doesn’t have to question it or seek it out, he is anything but unattached. He just requires the security that he will still be accepted when he shows vulnerability. Wanted. Unconditional love.”

She stared at me, saying nothing. Her gaze, however, told me so many things. Most of all, I suddenly realized that she’d missed that—failed to give him what he required.

“Sorry, I got lost,” Royal said as she entered the room.

Mandilyn stared at me for a moment more before recovering. When Royal passed me, she turned her head and winked at me with a small smile before sitting beside me. Had she left us alone on purpose? I dropped my gaze to my hands, which were clasped in my lap, and smirked.

Mandilyn continued the conversation, but every time her eye met mine, I saw the uncertainty and the worry that I was right. It was her fault that she lacked a relationship with her oldest son.