The Novels of Nora Roberts, Volume 2

by Nora Roberts

  “I love you too.”

  “I know. You’ve got the best heart of all of us, Bri. That’s what worries you.” She closed the door quietly, then went upstairs to the rest of her family.

  SHE dreamed of walking through the gardens of Sanctuary. The high summer smells, the high summer air. Overhead the moon was as full and clear as a child’s cutout. White on black. Stars were a streaming sea of light.

  Monkshood and Canterbury bells nodded gently in the breeze, their blossoms glowing white. Oh, how she loved the pure-white blooms, the way they shone in the dark. Fairy flowers, she thought, that danced while mortals slept.

  She felt immortal herself—so strong, so vivid. Raising her arms high, she wondered she didn’t simply lift off the ground and soar. The night was her time as well. Her alone time. She could drift along the garden paths like a ghost, and the ring of the wind chimes was music to dance by.

  Then a shadow stepped out of the trees. And the shadow became a man. Immortal, only curious, she walked toward him.

  Now running, running through the forest in the blinding dark, with rain lashing viciously at her face. The night was different now, she was different now. Afraid, pursued. Hunted. The wind was a thousand howling wolves with fangs bared and bloody, the raindrops tiny bright-edged spears aimed to tear the flesh. Limbs whipped at her mercilessly. Trees sprang up to block her path.

  She was pathetically mortal now, terrifyingly mortal. Her breath caught on a little sob as she heard her hunter call her name. But the name was Annabelle.

  Jo ripped away the sheets that tangled around her legs and bolted upright. Even as the vision cleared away, Nathan laid a hand on her shoulder. He wasn’t lying beside her, but standing, and his face was masked in the dark.

  “You’re all right. Just a dream. A bad one.”

  Not trusting her voice, she nodded. The hand on her shoulder rubbed it once, absently, then dropped away. The gesture was a distant comfort.

  “Do you want something?”

  “No.” The fear was already fading. “It’s nothing. I’m used to it.”

  “It’d be a wonder if you didn’t have nightmares after today.” He moved away from her, walked to the window, turned his back.

  She could see he’d pulled on his jeans, and when she ran her head over the sheets beside her, she found they were cool. He hadn’t been sleeping beside her. Hadn’t wanted to, Jo realized. He’d only stayed over at Sanctuary because Kate had made it impossible to refuse. And he was only sharing the bed here because it would have been awkward otherwise.

  But he hadn’t touched her, hadn’t turned to her.

  “You haven’t slept, have you?”

  “No.” He wasn’t sure he would ever close his eyes peacefully again.

  Jo glanced at the clock. 3:05. She’d experienced her share of restless three A.M.s. “Maybe you should take a sleeping pill.”

  “No.”

  “I know this was hell for you, Nathan. There’s nothing anyone can say or do to make it better.”

  “Nothing’s ever going to make it better for Tom Peters.”

  “He might have killed her.”

  Nathan hoped it was true—with all his heart he hoped it. And felt filthy for it.

  “They argued,” Jo said stubbornly. “She walked out on him. He could have followed her down to the cove. They kept arguing and he snapped. It would only take a minute, a minute of rage. Then he panicked and carried her away. He’d have wanted the distance, so he put her in the river.”

  “People don’t always kill in rage or panic,” he said softly. Bitterness rose into his throat, threatening to choke him. “I have no business being in this house. Being with you. What was I thinking of? Going back. To fix what? What the hell did I think I could do?”

  “What are you talking about?” She hated the quaver in her voice. But the sound of his, so hard and cold, chilled her.

  He turned back to stare at her. She sat in the big, feminine bed, her knees drawn up defensively, her face a pale shadow. He’d made mistakes all along, he realized. Selfish and stupid mistakes. But the biggest had been to fall in love with her, and to nudge her into love with him. She would hate him before it was done. She would have to.

  “Not now. We’ve both had enough for now.” Walking toward her, he thought, was as hard as it would be to walk away. He sat on the side of the bed, ran his hands down her arms. “You need to sleep.”

  “So do you. Nathan, we’re alive.” She took his hand, pressed it to her heart. “Getting through and going on—that’s important. It’s a lesson I learned the hard way.” Leaning forward, she touched her lips to his. “Right now, let’s just help each other get through the night.” Her eyes were dark and stayed on his as she tilted her head to warm the kiss. “Make love with me. I need to hold you.”

  He let her draw him down, let himself sink. She would hate him before it was done, but for now love would be enough.

  IN the morning he was gone, from her bed, from Sanctuary, and from Desire.

  “HE left on the morning ferry?” Jo stared at Brian, wondering how he could fry eggs when the world had just turned upside down again.

  “I passed him at dawn, heading back to his cottage.” Brian checked his order sheet and spooned up grits. Crises came and went, he thought, but people always managed to eat. “He said he had some business to take care of on the mainland. He’d be a couple of days.”

  “A couple of days. I see.” No good-bye, no see you around. No anything.

  “He looked pretty ragged around the edges. And so do you.”

  “It hasn’t been an easy twenty-four hours for anyone.”

  “No, but I’ve still got an inn to run. If you want to be useful, you could sweep off the terraces and patios, see that the cushions are put back out.”

  “Life goes on, right?”

  “There’s nothing we can do about that.” He scooped the eggs up neatly, the glimmering yolks trembling. “You just do what has to be done next.”

  He watched her drag the broom out of the closet and head outside. And he wondered just what in the hell he was supposed to do next.

  “I’m surprised people can eat, the way their mouths are running.” Lexy breezed in, exchanged an empty coffeepot for a full one, then slapped down new orders. “One more person asks me about that poor woman, I’m going to scream.”

  “There’s bound to be talk, there’s bound to be questions.”

  “You don’t have to listen to them.” She gave herself a break, resting a hip against the counter. “I don’t think I got more than ten minutes’ sleep all night. I don’t guess any of us did. Is Jo up yet?”

  “She’s out clearing off the terraces.”

  “Good. Keep her busy. Best thing for her.” She huffed out a breath when Brian sent her a speculative look. “I’m not brainless, Bri. This has to be harder on her than the rest of us. Harder yet, after what she’s already been through. Anything that keeps her mind off it for a five-minute stretch is a blessing.”

  “I never thought you were brainless, Lex. No matter how hard you pretend to be.”

  “I’m not going to worry about your insults this morning, Brian. But I am worried about Jo.” She turned to peek out the window and was satisfied to see her sister sweeping violently. “Good manual labor should help. And thank God for Nathan. He’s just exactly what she needs right now.”

  “He’s not here.”

  She spun back around so fast that the coffee sloshed to the rim of the pot. “What do you mean he’s not here?”

  “He went over to the mainland for a few days.”

  “Well, what in blue hell for? He should be right here, with Jo Ellen.”

  “He had some business to see to.”

  “Business?” Lexy rolled her eyes and grabbed the tray of new orders. “Why, isn’t that just like a man, just exactly like one? All of you, useless as a three-titted bull, every last one of you.”

  She stormed out, hips twitching. And for some reason Brian found hims
elf in a much lighter mood. Women, he thought. Can’t live with them, can’t dump them off a cliff.

  AN hour later Lexy marched outside. She found Jo opening the last of the patio table umbrellas. “Everything’s nice and tidy here, I see. Fine and dandy. Go on up and get a bathing suit. We’re going to the beach.”

  “What for?”

  “Because it’s there. Go on and change. I’ve got sunscreen and towels here already.”

  “I don’t want to sit on the beach.”

  “I don’t think I asked what you wanted to do. You need some sun. And if you don’t come along with me for an hour, Brian or Kate will find something else for you to sweep up or scrub.”

  Jo looked at the broom with distaste. “There is that. All right. Why not? It’s hot. I could use a swim.”

  “Get a move on, then, before somebody catches us and puts us to work.”

  JO cut through the breakers, took the roll, then began to swim with the current. She’d forgotten how much she loved being in the ocean—fighting against it, drifting with it. She could hear a girlish squeal in the distance as a couple laughed and wrestled in the surf. Farther out, a young boy, brown as a berry, struggled to catch a wave and ride his inflatable raft back to shore.

  When her arms tired, she flipped onto her back. The sun burned down through hazy skies and stung her eyes. It was easy to close them, to float. When her mind drifted to Nathan, she cut it off.

  He had a life of his own, and so did she. Maybe she’d started to lean just a little too much. It was good that he’d jerked that shoulder away so abruptly, forced her to regain her own balance.

  When he came back—if he came back—she’d be steadier.

  With a moan of disgust, she flipped again, letting her face sink into the water.

  Goddamn it, she was in love with him. And if that wasn’t the stupidest thing she’d ever done, she didn’t know what topped it. There was no future there, and why would she even think of futures? She turned her head, gulped in air, and began to swim again.

  They had come together by accident, through circumstance, and had simply taken advantage of it. If they’d gotten closer than they intended, that was a matter of circumstance too. And circumstances changed. She’d changed.

  If coming back to Sanctuary had brought some pain and some misery, it had also brought back to her a strength and clear-sightedness that she’d been missing for far too long.

  She planted her feet, let the sand shift under her as she walked through the waves to shore.

  Lexy was posed on a blanket, stretched out to show off her generous curves. She rested lazily on an elbow, turning the pages of a thick paperback novel. On the cover was a bare-chested man with amazing and improbable pecs, black hair that swirled over his gleaming shoulders, and an arrogant smile on his full-lipped mouth.

  Lexy gave a low, murmuring sigh and flipped a page. Her own hair rippled in the breeze. The curves of her generous breasts rose in smooth, peach-toned swells over the minuscule bikini top on which neon shades of green and pink warred. Her long legs were slicked with lotion, and her toenails were a glitter of coral.

  She looked, Jo decided, like an ad for some sexy resort.

  Dropping down beside her, Jo picked up a towel and rubbed it over her hair. “Do you do that on purpose, or is it just instinct?”

  “What’s that?” Lexy tipped down her rose-lensed sunglasses and peered over the top.

  “Arrange yourself so that every male in a hundred yards strains his neck to get a look at you.”

  “Oh, that.” Lips curving, Lexy nudged her glasses back in place. “That’s just instinct, sugar. And good luck. You could do the same, but you’d have to put your mind to it some. You’ve gotten your figure back since you’ve been home. And that black tank suit’s not a bad choice. Looks athletic and sleek. Some men go for that.” She tipped her glasses down again. “Nathan seems to.”

  “Nathan hasn’t seen me in this suit.”

  “Then he’s in for a treat.”

  “If he comes back.”

  “ ’Course he’ll come back. You’re smart, you’ll make him pay just a little for going off.”

  Jo scooped up a handful of sand, let it drift through her fingers. “I’m in love with him.”

  “Of course you are. Why wouldn’t you be?”

  “In love with him, Lexy.” Jo frowned at the glittering grains of sand that clung to her hand.

  “Oh.” Lexy sat up, crossed her pretty legs, and grinned. “That’s nice. You sure took your time falling, but you picked a winner.”

  “I hate it.” Jo grabbed more sand and squeezed it into her fist. “I hate feeling this way, being this way. It ties my stomach up in knots.”

  “It’s supposed to. I’ve had mine tied up dozens of times. It was always real easy to loosen it up again.” Her mouth went into a pout as she looked out to sea. “Until now. I’m having a harder time of that with Giff.”

  “He loves you. He always has. It’s different for you.”

  “It’s different for everybody. We’re all built different inside. That’s what makes it so interesting.”

  Jo tilted her head. “You know, Lex, sometimes you’re absolutely sensible. I never expect it, then there it is. I guess I need to tell you what I told Brian last night.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I love you, Lexy.” She bent over and touched her lips to her sister’s cheek. “I really do.”

  “I know that, Jo. You’re ornery about it, but you always loved us.” She let out a breath as she decided to make her own confession. “I guess that’s why I got so mad at you when you went away. And I was jealous.”

  “You? Of me?”

  “Because you weren’t afraid to go.”

  “Yes, I was.” Jo rested her chin on her knee and watched the waves batter the shore. “I was terrified. Sometimes I’m still scared of being out there, of not being able to do what I need to do. Or doing it but failing at it.”

  “Well, I failed, and I can tell you, it sucks.”

  “You didn’t fail, Lexy. You just didn’t finish.” She turned her head. “Will you go back?”

  “I don’t know. I was sure I would.” Her eyes clouded, misted between gray and green. “Trouble is, it gets easy to stay here, let time go by. Then I’ll just get old and wrinkled and fat. Oh, what are we talking about this for?”

  Annoyed with herself, Lexy shook her head, picked out a cold can of Pepsi from the little cooler beside her. “We should be talking about something interesting. Like, I was wondering . . .”

  She popped the top, took a long, cooling sip. Then ran her tongue lazily over her top lip. “Just how is sex with Nathan?”

  Jo snorted out a laugh. “No,” she said definitely and rolled over to lie on her stomach.

  “On a scale of one to ten.” Lexy poked Jo’s shoulder. “Or if you had to pick one adjective to describe it.”

  “No,” Jo said again.

  “Just one little bitty adjective. I mean, would it be ‘incredible’?” she asked, leaning down close to Jo’s ear. “Or would it be ‘fabulous’? Maybe ‘memorable’?”

  Jo let out a small sigh. “ ‘Stupendous,’ ” she said without opening her eyes. “It’s stupendous.”

  “Oh, stupendous.” Lexy waved a hand in front of her face. “Oh, I like that. Stupendous. Does he keep his eyes open or closed when he kisses you?”

  “Depends.”

  “He does both? That gives me the shivers. You’d never know which. I just love that. So, how about when he—”

  “Lexy.” Though a giggle escaped, Jo kept her eyes tightly closed. “I’m not going to describe Nathan’s lovemaking technique for you. I’m going to take a nap. Wake me up in a bit.”

  And to her surprise, she dropped like a stone into sleep.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  NATHAN paced the aging Turkish carpet in the soaring two-level library of Dr. Jonah Kauffman’s brownstone. Outside, and two dozen stories down, New York was sweltering under a massive h
eat wave. Here in the dignified penthouse all was cool and polished and worlds away from the bump and grind of the streets.

  It never felt like New York inside Kauffman’s realm. Whenever Nathan walked into the grand foyer with its golden woods and quiet colors, he thought of English squires and country houses.

  One of Nathan’s earliest commissions had been to design the library, to shift walls and ceilings to accommodate Kauffman’s enormous collection of books in the understated and traditional style that suited one of the top neurologists in the country. The warm chestnut wood, the wide, intricately carved moldings, the tall sweep of triple windows set back to form a cozy alcove had been Nathan’s choices. Kauffman had left it all up to him, chuckling whenever Nathan would ask for an opinion.

  You’re the doctor on this case, Nathan. Don’t ask me to collaborate on the choice of structural beams, and I won’t ask you to assist in brain surgery.

  Now Nathan struggled to compose himself as he waited. This time around, Kauffman was the doctor, and Nathan’s present, his future, every choice, large or small, that he would ever make were in Kauffman’s skilled hands.

  It had been six days since he’d left Desire. Six desperately long days.

  Kauffman strode in, slid the thick pocket doors shut behind him. “Sorry to make you wait, Nathan. You should have helped yourself to a brandy. But brandy’s not your drink, is it? Well, I’ll have one and you can pretend to join me.”

  “I appreciate your seeing me here, Doctor. And your doing all ... this yourself.”

  “Come now, you’re part of the family.” Kauffman lifted a Baccarat decanter from a sideboard to pour two snifters.

  He was tall, nearly six five, an imposing man both straight and trim after seventy years of living. His hair remained thick, and he allowed himself the vanity of wearing it brushed back like a flowing white mane. He sported a neat beard and moustache that surrounded his somewhat thin mouth. He preferred the no-nonsense lines of British suits, the elegance of Italian shoes, and he never failed to appear perfectly and elegantly turned out.