Thick as Thieves (The Greystone Family: Stolen Hearts #3)

Chapter 5

5

Evie

Devon, England

“He won’t come home for Christmas, I know it. He’ll stay in America,” I tell Marshall, scrolling through my phone at the pictures being posted by Xan’s social media team of him in LA.

“Midarlin’, he’ll come if he can. You have to give him a minute. You’re too much at times, Evie. Let the man breathe.” Marshall counsels me with his usual calmness.

“But it’s Xander. He should be with us.” My face is as red as a tomato in frustration.

“No, he shouldn’t,” he says gently. “He needs to live his life. He can’t live Russell’s, even though I think young Russell wishes he was here.”

I laugh at that. “Yeah he does. I catch him on FaceTime at all hours. He knows Xan doesn’t sleep, so rings whenever he wants. I think he's going to miss them when they go on tour. I’ve told him to go,” I add in.

“That’s very generous of you.” Marshall is intently watching me. ”Not all wives would want him to go. But he doesn’t seem like he’s bothered about going.”

I smile at that. “I don’t want him to change, Marshall. I know what he is, what he does for a living. He can go, I’ll stay here. I have you, Tommy and the family. I can work and maybe fly out with the kids, who knows. I’m not having him stay and be miserable. If he needs to go, he goes, end of story,” I say with determination.

“Let’s see after Christmas. Is the nanny working out okay? She seems happy with the flat.” Marshalls says, smiling at me.

My mood changes, taking a bit of a nose dive. “Yeah, seems okay. It’s, I’m, she?—”

Marshall puts his glasses down and peers at me, saying nothing. Just waiting for me to get my thoughts together.

“Shall we go for a walk?” I say eventually. “It’s an hour before feed time. I reckon we could do a loop of the field, see Pinky in her new rug range.” I smile, trying to cover up my disquiet. Marshall, who can read me better than a weather barometer, nods slowly, smiling gently at me as he gets his boots. He knows something is bothering me.

I run and tell Betty, the nanny, I’m going out for an hour and to call if they stir earlier. We seem to have a good routine going. They’re typical men, I say—eat and sleep. Simple pleasures.

Kellen is out at the studio. Jurgen, their music producer, has turned up to see Nikki. He can’t keep away, their friendship blossoming into a huge love affair. I’m positive it’s due to Nikki’s fabulous cooking, but Marshall assures me it’s not. It means Jurgen spends most of his time in Devon. Coupled with the studio, he’s becoming a permanent fixture. An idea for a film soundtrack has come in from Hollywood actor Kasey Becker and they’re playing around with it. I’m hoping it brings the others over, but I’m not optimistic.

They’re making plans without us, all moving on with their own lives. My head tells me that’s how it should be, but my heart is not on the same page. It keeps jumping to the end of the story, and no one is here with us. It feels very… bleak.

Marshall and I walk slowly round, checking fences and looking at the horses in the fields. The racing yard is busy getting ready for evening stables, and we can hear voices on the breeze and horses moving around, but we both say nothing.

Eventually I break the silence. “I’ve asked Jonno to find out more about the nanny. I know I interviewed her, but she came to us via recommendation from Rowena. Rowena seems to be playing ball a bit at the moment, but I feel Betty watching me. Like a study is being performed and documented.” My brows have furrowed, and I curl my lips in on themselves.

“Well as long as she isn’t reporting back to anyone about anything. She signed an NDA not to discuss anything about the family. Nothing at all. Jonno did it. It was watertight,” Marshall states confidently. “As yet it seems she isn’t spilling any beans. But even if she is, what can she say? You look after those boys, they’re loved, tended to, every whim catered for.” Compassion pours from his lovely blue-grey eyes, his familiar smile reassuring me. “Don’t fret, midarlin’, you’re doing great, they’re happy.” He pulls me into his side, giving me a squeeze.

We walk on and I finally blurt out my issue. “She touches Kellen all the time, every chance she gets. I know he’s so good looking but—” I blow out a breath. “I really don’t want to be a paranoid wife, watching every woman with my husband. That would definitely drive me to insanity. Iris in the shop cornered him on the fruit aisle last week. He barely got out alive, and she’s nearly eighty.” I laugh out loud, but a bit of a cry sounds as well.

Marshall looks at me instantly. “If you’re not happy, let’s let her go. She’s only been here a few weeks.” He’s straight on the defensive. Mine.

“I know, but I don’t want to put anyone out of work. And what will I say to Kellen? I thought she touched you too much. He hasn’t complained. I don’t even think he notices. Will you have a look? She does it in plain sight. It's not like she’s trying to get him alone. It’s all the time. Maybe it’s just me. These hormones have hit me hard this time around.” I’m trying to be rational.

“Let’s give it a week. We can use the Christmas break if we want her to go. The house will have the family in it, as well as Orla to help you.” His pragmatic approach is always spot on, unflappable. It’s like the most soothing balm, and he always boosts my confidence and calms my nerves. Amazing how one person saying the right words can make me feel so much better about everything.

I nod. “Okay. Just keep your eyes open and see if you think it’s just her personality, or if she’s deliberately doing it. It’s just, she doesn’t do it to you, Jonno, or even Jake.”

“Not Gerald?” he asks, and we both smile thinking of the scarecrow-esque henchman, and Marshall's right-hand man on the farm. I don’t think he’s bought any new clothes since 1970.

“No, not even Gerald. And to be honest, he’s the original International Man of Mystery.” I grin at him, feeling a little more optimistic.

We’re laughing as we get back to the house. The babies are just up and Kellen is home and holding Sorley. Betty is hovering, but not taking Lochi out of his crib. I walk over and pick him up, my earlier optimism evaporating.

“Hey my beautiful boy, are you hungry?”

“I am,” states Kell, his voice so low I spin around and stare at him. He’s intently watching me. He looks like he’s starving, and not for food. “How many weeks are these two now?”

My jaw hits the floor. “You’re crazy.”

“Yep!” he says, popping the P, not blinking, not taking his eyes off me. “For you.” His face splits into a grin, like there’s no one else in the room.

I soften a smile at him. “Let me sort out your sons first and then…” I trail off, gazing at this glorious man all the while. His silent communications, so loud in my brain.

He stands and moves behind me with Sorley. “Let me come help you,” he says, his voice still low and gravelly. Stroking my back, he gently pushes me towards the door. “Where are you feeding them, in the small library?” I nod, I can hardly think of any words. “Lead on, my love. Let’s get you sorted.” The salacious grin he shoots my way makes Betty very uncomfortable as we walk past her.

“Better get used to that,” I hear Marshall say to her as we leave the room. “It’s a regular occurrence when he’s here. They’re not shy about anything. Him, Xander, or any of them actually. All as bad. Kasey and Carter, too. To be honest, he’s the worst, him and Gary.” Betty is looking at Marshall in awe.

“Are they all coming, do you think?” she asks.

“If Evie’s here, there’s a very good chance one of them will turn up,” Marshall states confidently, his voice indulgent.

“Oh, right,” Betty mulls over. “Just if Evie’s here, not Kellen?”

“You don’t want him to catch you calling him that,” Marshall’s voice has lost all its joviality. “He won’t like it. He’s Marcus to you and everyone else unless he invites you to call him Kellen.”

“Evie, you, and the other boys call him that.” She sounds like a spoiled child being told no.

“Look, I’ve warned you, he’ll pull you up if he hears you.” Marshall maintains his warning tone.

“How long have you worked for them, Marshall?” she asks primly.

I can hear the grin in Marshall’s voice. “All my life, it feels like. All my life.”