Present Danger Read Online Free Page A

was waited upon by servants whose wages were paid by her granddaddy. Attendance at private schools was naturally considered de rigueur; the fees were paid by an uncle. Dance classes were financed by another uncle, and she belonged to exclusive country clubs whose dues were subsidized by yet another. Inescapably, at every family gathering, one or another of her male relatives could be counted on to grasp her chin, hold her face up to the light, and murmur, “Yes, suh! This one’s a beauty. She’ll never have a problem snarin’ herself a real catch.”
    Aunie wasn’t quite certain how she was supposed to go about snaring a catch, but she knew it had something to do with her physical attractiveness. As a child she was extremely shy. Everyone at the private schools she attended knew she was a student who needed to be subsidized and with the cruelty of youth, they did not hesitate to taunt her with it. Her own family never credited her with intelligence. All anyone seemed to think she had going for her was her appearance.
    And that was before she began to truly blossom.
    Life is kinder to the attractive than it is to the unsightly—it’s an indisputable fact of life. Acceptance and approval come easier regardless of how undeserved they may be, since they are based, more often than not, on an immediate visceral reaction to outward appearances.
    Aunie was not exactly proud of how very much she took advantage of that fact as an adolescent.
    Pretty girls are not supposed to feel inadequate, so she hid her shyness as her beauty blossomed, forcing herself to appear vivacious and outgoing. She felt duty-bound to fulfill her family’s expectations so she never questioned the rightness of accepting from others the luxuries that her father could not provide. Following her mother’s example, she considered them no more than her due.
    It never occurred to her to learn to make her own way in life, to use her brains instead of her looks. If someone had told her that the labor entailed in providing her own security would ultimately be more rewarding than snaring a good catch to do it for her, she wouldn’t have understood. She only knew what had been drummed into her head for so many years. Consequently, it took her longer than most to develop an identity of her own.
    She thought her looks were her identity. No one had ever lauded her intelligence the way they praised her flawless skin or impeccable bone structure. No one had ever told her she was smart enough to do whatever she wanted to do. It was understood that she possessed one marketable commodity. Her duty was to use her physical attractiveness to marry well. Insecure beneath her bogus surface vivacity, that was what she set out to do.
    Upon completing a year of finishing school, she was introduced to a number of eligible, family-approved bachelors: young men with solid family connections and bright prospects. But although she often had fun with them and was even drawn to one or two, there was an elemental spark that was missing. She had been taught that wealth was the primary objective, but in a stubborn corner of her mind she was convinced there had to be more. She wanted love as well.
    Then Wesley Cunningham entered her life and swept her off her feet.
    Wesley wasn’t a boy or a young man; he was thirty-six to her nineteen years. A respected, established gallery owner whose personal collection of rare and beautiful objets d’art was lauded as unequaled in the South, he was an urbane man at ease in the most exalted company. That such a man should exhibit signs of being quite taken with her took Aunie’s breath away. His pursuit of her was persistent, sophisticated, and romantic, and it quite turned her head. When he requested her hand in marriage following an eleven-month courtship, she thought she was the luckiest woman alive.
    Later, she liked to believe that if she’d had even a glimmer of realization that she was about to become the prized possession of an obsessed man,