steadily climbing the eastern bench. With each block they passed, Cara's nervousness increased. Events had happened so quickly. Since they had decided it would be better to live in Ross's larger home, she'd been forced to pack up belongings and list her own house as a rental in a matter of days. In that time she hadn't
had a spare minute to discuss living arrangements once inside Ross's castle. She'd been clear about wanting a platonic marriage, but would Ross insist on sharing a bedroom?
She took a quick, calming breath to quell her sudden panic. Why had she allowed things to move so quickly? Why hadn't she demanded that they slow down the preparations to a saner pace?
But as they neared the security gates of Ross's home and saw the mob of news vans and reporters waiting there, she remembered the intrusion of the media in their lives. She and Ross had wanted their marriage to be a fait accompli before reporters got wind of it.
Without even pausing, Ross hit a remote control button and slid into the driveway. Cara expected the reporters to run for the house, but within seconds a pair of security guards—complete with real Doberman pinschers—kept the media from swarming inside.
"Nice dogs," she murmured, remembering her own threat to sic an imaginary dog on the reporters who'd come to her house.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Ross touched another button and one of the garage doors rose.
"Are your girls with Stibbs?" Cara asked, still
not used to the fact that she was about to live in a house with a genuine British butler.
"No. Stibbs categorically refuses to tend children. It's one of his little quirks. The girls are staying the night with their nanny, Mrs. Graves." He killed the engine, then regarded her with dark eyes. "I thought it would be a good idea for us to settle in without the children underfoot. Even Stibbs has taken a couple of days off."
So they were alone. Completely alone. Or were they? Ross had once mentioned something about a housekeeper.
"Your housekeeper is here, though, isn't she?"
"No. The daytime cleaning staff has gone for the day. As for the others... I gave everyone but the dozen or so men on the security team the night off."
Team? He had a security team?
Ross opened his door, and Cara slid out of the car before he had time to round the car and help her.
The time had come for her to begin her new life as Ross's wife.
I
Chapter Eight
Wordlessly Ross motioned for her to precede him into the house.
Cara made her way through the mudroom to the kitchen, relying on her memory of her first night in Ross's home.
Has it really only been a week?
Unsure how to proceed once she was inside, Cara paused near the gleaming table and bit her Up, nervously wondering what to do next.
Ross, on the other hand, seemed to have no such qualms. He dropped his keys in a silver bowl on the counter, then leafed through a pile of waiting mail.
Cara waited in silence, wondering if it would be presumptuous of her to begin unpacking her things.
But then, she didn't know where she would be staying. Or if she'd be sleeping alone.
"You'll have to tell me how you want to work with the nanny in the coming months."
Finally, a subject on which she felt comfortable offering her views.
"I don't want a nanny at all," she stated firmly.
Ross paused in the midst of reading a letter, peering at her from beneath a creased brow. "I'm afraid I'll have to insist that you keep her with you at least part-time."
Cara bristled. "Why? I thought you liked the way I handle my own children. I thought that was one of the reasons for this marriage."
"It is. But you've also just inherited another set of children—making it much like having three-year-old quadruplets running around the house. I asked you to be my wife, not my slave. I know from my own experience that the twins can be a handful. It's going to be even more complicated with four of them."
"But you've already got a butler and a housekeeper. It's not as if I'd be running
had a spare minute to discuss living arrangements once inside Ross's castle. She'd been clear about wanting a platonic marriage, but would Ross insist on sharing a bedroom?
She took a quick, calming breath to quell her sudden panic. Why had she allowed things to move so quickly? Why hadn't she demanded that they slow down the preparations to a saner pace?
But as they neared the security gates of Ross's home and saw the mob of news vans and reporters waiting there, she remembered the intrusion of the media in their lives. She and Ross had wanted their marriage to be a fait accompli before reporters got wind of it.
Without even pausing, Ross hit a remote control button and slid into the driveway. Cara expected the reporters to run for the house, but within seconds a pair of security guards—complete with real Doberman pinschers—kept the media from swarming inside.
"Nice dogs," she murmured, remembering her own threat to sic an imaginary dog on the reporters who'd come to her house.
"What?"
"Nothing."
Ross touched another button and one of the garage doors rose.
"Are your girls with Stibbs?" Cara asked, still
not used to the fact that she was about to live in a house with a genuine British butler.
"No. Stibbs categorically refuses to tend children. It's one of his little quirks. The girls are staying the night with their nanny, Mrs. Graves." He killed the engine, then regarded her with dark eyes. "I thought it would be a good idea for us to settle in without the children underfoot. Even Stibbs has taken a couple of days off."
So they were alone. Completely alone. Or were they? Ross had once mentioned something about a housekeeper.
"Your housekeeper is here, though, isn't she?"
"No. The daytime cleaning staff has gone for the day. As for the others... I gave everyone but the dozen or so men on the security team the night off."
Team? He had a security team?
Ross opened his door, and Cara slid out of the car before he had time to round the car and help her.
The time had come for her to begin her new life as Ross's wife.
I
Chapter Eight
Wordlessly Ross motioned for her to precede him into the house.
Cara made her way through the mudroom to the kitchen, relying on her memory of her first night in Ross's home.
Has it really only been a week?
Unsure how to proceed once she was inside, Cara paused near the gleaming table and bit her Up, nervously wondering what to do next.
Ross, on the other hand, seemed to have no such qualms. He dropped his keys in a silver bowl on the counter, then leafed through a pile of waiting mail.
Cara waited in silence, wondering if it would be presumptuous of her to begin unpacking her things.
But then, she didn't know where she would be staying. Or if she'd be sleeping alone.
"You'll have to tell me how you want to work with the nanny in the coming months."
Finally, a subject on which she felt comfortable offering her views.
"I don't want a nanny at all," she stated firmly.
Ross paused in the midst of reading a letter, peering at her from beneath a creased brow. "I'm afraid I'll have to insist that you keep her with you at least part-time."
Cara bristled. "Why? I thought you liked the way I handle my own children. I thought that was one of the reasons for this marriage."
"It is. But you've also just inherited another set of children—making it much like having three-year-old quadruplets running around the house. I asked you to be my wife, not my slave. I know from my own experience that the twins can be a handful. It's going to be even more complicated with four of them."
"But you've already got a butler and a housekeeper. It's not as if I'd be running
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