Page 17 of Landen

He was leaving inthree weeks, and that was not negotiable. He had his responsibilitiesto deal with. He was the only son and heir to the family fortune, andfor the first time in his life, he wished he was just some ordinarybloke.

*****

“Liam told meyou bought a painting at Ronaldo’s?”

“He wasmisinformed. I bought two paintings.”

Landen was prowlingthe length of his friend’s office restlessly. He had decided totake Jackson up on his invitation and give the gallery a break forthe day, but last night had been a bloody difficult night with himtossing and turning in his bed.

“You could havecome to me to get the discount.”

“I wanted to goto the place, and unless I am mistaken, most of the proceeds willstill be in your pockets. Am I right?”

Leaning back in hischair, Jackson eyed the younger man curiously. “What the hellis your problem?” He asked mildly.

“You areassuming I have one.” He stopped in front of an easel with anunfinished painting and studied it curiously. “I hope thismakes bloody sense when it is finished.”

“Not much.”Jackson flashed a grin at him. “Liam also told me you metsomeone.”

Landen turned towardhim, shoving his hands into his tan dress pants pockets. “Liamhas been very busy.”

“Liam is agossip. I happen to know her. She persuaded me and Jason to conductsome sort of amateur hour at the gallery. She is very persistent, andwhen I said no, she went to Jerri, whom I could not say no to.Persistent, very good at her job, and exquisite.” He eyed hisfriend. “Does she know you are only here for a short time?”

“Of course.”

“What are youdoing?”

“None of yourgoddamned business.’ He growled. He could not answer because hehad no idea what he was doing. He could try and tell himself that allhe wanted from her was just a fling for the remainder of his stay inthe country, or- mentally shaking his head, he walked over to anotherpainting.

It was not Jackson’susual style, and as he studied the flowers growing in the meadow andthe trees dotted in between, he was reminded nostalgically of home.

“Whopainted this?”

“Would youbelieve that I did?”

Swinging around,Landen stared at his friend lounging behind his desk. “It’snot you.”

“No, it’snot.” Jackson agreed with a smirk. “I found it buriedbeneath a few things I had brought from the manor where I lived withmy parents.”

His eyes drifted tothe painting, and a somber look settled on his face. “From myearlier days with them. We went on a trip to this pretty littlevillage in Scotland, and I went for a walk. Those days, I would bringmy implements wherever I go because it was my way of getting past thethoughts and events that haunted my life.” He shook his head.“Anyway,

I found the damnthing and decided to revive it. What do you think?”

“It reminds meof home.” He acknowledged bleakly. “Are you sellingit?”

“No,”Jackson told him with a grin. “It’s a reminder of thetime I spent with my adopted parents. I was talking about them theother day and realized how much I miss them. And wondering if I eversaid how much I loved them. Those days, it was tough for me to saythe words.” His expression softened. “Jerri taught me howto.”

Turning away from thepainting, Landen went to stare out the window. “They havechosen someone ‘suitable’ for me.”

“Ah. And willyou be mindlessly going into an arranged marriage?”

Landen smiled atthat. “She is beautiful and from a proper family.”

“I could neverbe part of that whole bullshit practice.” Jackson snorted indisgust.

“We areBritish, which means we think with our heads instead of ourhearts.”

“Like I said,bullshit.”