The Novels of Nora Roberts, Volume 2

by Nora Roberts

  “If you will pardon me,” LaRue said. “I suggest a celebration.”

  “Of course.” Marla wiped at her eyes and stepped back. “I should have thought of it.”

  “Allow me.” LaRue strolled off into the galley to unearth the bottle of Fume Blanc he’d hidden away.

  After the glasses were poured, the toasts drunk and the tears dried, Tate walked to the starboard rail to join Buck.

  “It’s a pretty big night,” she murmured.

  “Yeah.” He lifted his glass of ginger ale.

  “I thought—I’d hoped that you’d be happy for us, Buck. I do love him so much.”

  He shifted uncomfortably. “Guess I know you do. I got used to thinking about him like my own the past fifteen years. I ain’t been much of a substitute father—”

  “You’ve been wonderful,” she interrupted hotly.

  “Screwed up more than once, but mostly I done my best. I always knew Matthew had something special in him. More’n me, more’n James. I never knew how to make it come out. You do,” he added, turning to her at last.

  “He’s a better man with you than he would be without. He’ll try harder with you there, and turn off that bad Lassiter luck. You gotta make him get rid of that damned necklace, Tate, before it curses your lives. Before VanDyke kills him for it.”

  “I can’t do that, Buck. If I tried, and he changed himself because I’d asked, what would I leave him?”

  “I should never have told him about it. I made him think we could make James’s death worth something if we found it. That was stupid. Dead’s dead.”

  “Matthew’s his own man, Buck. What he does can’t be because of me, or you, or anyone. If we love him, we have to accept that.”

  CHAPTER 25

  T ATE STRUGGLED TO take her own advice to heart. As Matthew slept beside her in his cabin on the Mermaid, she tried to put her fears to rest.

  He’d said it was time they trusted each other. She knew trust could be as strong a shield as love. She would make hers strong enough, she promised herself, to defend them both against anyone or anything.

  Whatever happened, whatever he did, they would face it together.

  “Stop worrying,” he murmured and nudged her closer.

  The heat of his body, the hard length of it against hers, soothed. “Who said I was?”

  “I can feel it.” To distract them both, he ran his hand over her hip. “You keep sending out all these nasty little worry darts. They’re keeping me awake.” His hand inched back up, over her rib cage. “And since I’m awake anyway . . .” He rolled on top of her to send kisses and shivers down her throat.

  “Next time I build a boat, I’m going to make the master cabin bigger.”

  She sighed as his lips nibbled their way to her ear. “Next time?”

  “Mmm-hmm. And I’m soundproofing it.”

  She let out a chuckle. Buck’s snoring from the next cabin battered the walls like thunder. “I’ll help you. How does LaRue stand it?”

  “He says it’s like the boat rocking in the current. It’s just there.” Circling a finger around her breast, Matthew studied her face in the moonlight that drifted through the open window. “When I designed the living quarters, I didn’t have a wife in mind.”

  “You’d better keep one in mind now,” she warned him. “This one. And I think the living quarters are just fine.” Teasingly, she flicked her tongue over his jaw. “Especially the captain’s cabin.”

  “You know, if I’d figured out that this engagement business would clear the way for this, I’d have tried it sooner.” To please himself, he spread her hair over the pillow. “It beats the floor of the bridge.”

  “All to hell.” She curved her lips under his. “But I kind of liked those nights. Don’t think this engagement business is going to last long,” she added. “We’re going to Nevis tomorrow to start the formalities.”

  “Christ, you’re bossy.”

  “Yeah and I’ve got you, Lassiter.” She vised her arms around him. “I’ve really got you.”

  Nothing, absolutely nothing, she vowed, was going to take him away from her.

  “The minute you’re finished, I want you to meet me in the boutique.” Under the bright morning sun, Marla shook the sand out of her sandals as she stepped from the beach onto the stone walkway of the resort. Small, informal wedding or not, she intended to take her duties as mother of the bride, and surrogate mother of the groom, seriously.

  Tate sighed and flipped her braid over her shoulder. “I don’t suppose it’s any use telling you again that I don’t need a new dress.”

  “No use at all.” Happily, Marla beamed. “We’re getting you a wedding dress, Tate Beaumont. If the boutique here at the resort doesn’t have anything suitable, we’re going to Saint Kitts. And Matthew”—she patted him gently on the cheek—“you could use a haircut—and a decent suit.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  “Suck up,” Tate muttered.

  Ignoring that, Marla continued to smile. “Now y’all go see the concierge. I’m sure he can help you find the way to push through the paperwork. Matthew, you and I will look into that suit later this afternoon. Oh, and Tate, ask him about shoes.”

  “Shoes?”

  “We’ll want to get some to match your dress.” With a cheery wave, she headed up the steps toward the boutique.

  “She’s off and running,” Tate said under her breath. “Thank God we’re doing this here and now. Can you imagine what she’d be planning if we were getting married back on Hatteras? Showers and bridal shows. Flowers, caterers, cakes.” She shuddered delicately. “Wedding consultants.”

  “Sounds kind of nice.”

  “Lassiter.” Bemused, Tate stared up at him. “You’re not telling me you’d like all that fuss and bother. If she had the chance, she’d stuff you into a tux, maybe tails.” She gave his butt a friendly pat. “Not that you wouldn’t look wonderfully dashing.”

  “I thought women were supposed to want a big, splashy wedding.”

  “Not sane women.” Amused, she paused halfway up the steps. “Matthew, is that what you want, all the pomp and circumstance?”

  “Look, Red, I’ll take you any way I can get you. I just don’t see what’s so wrong with the fancywork. A new dress, a haircut.”

  Tate narrowed her eyes wickedly. “She’s going to make you wear a tie, pal.”

  He couldn’t quite control the wince. “Not such a big deal.”

  “You’re right.” With a little laugh, she pressed a hand to her stomach. “I guess I’d better just come clean and admit it. I’m scared.”

  “Good.” He clasped his hand over hers. “That makes two of us.”

  Together they went into the lobby to track down the concierge.

  Fifteen minutes later, they walked out again, dazzled.

  “It’s going to be awfully easy,” Tate managed. “Proof of citizenship, sign a few papers.” She blew the hair out of her eyes. “We could pull this off in two or three days.”

  “Cold feet?”

  “They’re blocks of ice, but I can handle it. You?”

  “I never welch on a deal.” To prove it, he scooped her off her feet. “Are you going to be Doctor Lassiter or Doctor Beaumont?”

  “I’m going to be Doctor Beaumont and Mrs. Lassiter. Suit you?”

  “Suits me. Ah, I guess we’d better head to the boutique.”

  “I can save you from that.” Understanding, she gave him a hard, smacking kiss. “If we manage to find a dress in there, you aren’t allowed to see it. Mom will have a fit if we don’t follow at least one tradition.”

  Hope bloomed. “I don’t have to go shopping?”

  “You don’t have to go shopping until she snags you. Why don’t you swing by in about a half hour? Wait, I forgot I was dealing with Marla the mad shopper Beaumont. Give us an hour. And since I’m feeling so generous where you’re concerned, if Mom decides to drag me off to Saint Kitts, we’ll detour back to the boat and drop you off.”

 
; “I owe you big, Red.”

  “I’ll collect. Put me down.”

  He gave her one last kiss, then set her on her feet. “I bet they carry lingerie up there.”

  “I bet they do.” She laughed and gave him a shove. “I’ll surprise you. Get lost, Lassiter.”

  Smiling, she watched him disappear back into the lobby. Suddenly the idea of a new dress, something flowing and romantic, didn’t seem so frivolous. Something that would be flattered by a little gold heart with a single pearl dripping from its point.

  Lassiter, she decided, I’m going to knock your socks off.

  Flushed with pleasure, she started across the patio. The hand that clamped on her arm made her laugh. “Matthew, really—”

  The words, and her breath, clogged in her throat as she stared into the smoothly handsome face of Silas VanDyke.

  Reality tilted on its edge for a moment. He looked exactly the same, she thought dumbly. The years had laid lightly on him. The thick, glossy pewter hair, the smooth, elegant face and pale eyes.

  His hand was soft as a child’s on her arm, and she could smell the subtle, expensive cologne he’d dabbed on his skin.

  “Ms. Beaumont, what a pleasure to run into you like this. I must say, the years have been overwhelmingly generous with you.”

  It was the sound of his voice, faintly European and coldly pleased, that snapped her back. “Let go of me.”

  “Surely you have a moment or two for an old friend?” Still smiling benignly, he steered her sharply around the garden of brilliant annuals as he spoke.

  There were dozens of people around, she reminded herself as she fought back fear. Guests, staff, the early diners who lounged in the poolside restaurant. She only had to shout.

  The realization that she was afraid, here, in the bright sunlight, had her digging in her heels. “Oh, I’ve got a moment or two for you, VanDyke. In fact, I’d enjoy dealing with you very much.” Alone, she thought, without Matthew shouldering her aside. “But if you don’t let me go, right now, I’ll start screaming.”

  “Now that would be an unfortunate mistake,” he said mildly. “And you’re a sensible woman. I know.”

  “Keep pawing at me and I’ll show you just how sensible.” Furious, she jerked her arm free. “I’m sensible enough to know there’s nothing you can do to me in a public place.”

  “Do to you?” He looked shocked, and vaguely offended. But his head was aching, pounding at the idea that she would defy him. “Tate, my dear, what a foolish thing to say. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything to you at all. I’m simply inviting you to come out and spend an hour or two on my yacht.”

  “You must be insane.”

  His fingers closed so quickly, so painfully over her arm, she was too surprised to shout. “Be careful. I don’t care for poor manners.” His face smoothed out again with a smile. “We’ll try again, shall we? I’d like you to accompany me for a short, friendly visit. If you refuse, or if you insist on making a scene here in, as you say, a public place, your fiancé will pay the price.”

  “My fiancé will scrape your face over the pavement, VanDyke, unless I do it first.”

  “What a pity that your mother’s gentle breeding seems to have skipped a generation.” He sighed, leaned closer, keeping his teeth clenched to control his voice. “I have two men watching your Matthew as we speak. They’ll do nothing unless you force me to signal them otherwise. They’re quite skilled and quite discreet.”

  The blood drained from her face, leaving it cold and stiff. “You can hardly have him killed in the lobby of the resort.” But he’d planted the seed of terror, and it was blossoming.

  “You can always take that chance. Oh, and wasn’t that your mother up in the boutique? She’s chosen several lovely things for you.”

  Numb with fear, Tate glanced up. She could see the glass doors and windows of the shop tossing back sun. And the man, broad shouldered, neatly dressed, loitering outside. He inclined his head slowly.

  “Don’t hurt her. You have no reason to hurt her.”

  “If you do what I tell you, I’ll have no reason to hurt anyone. Shall we go? I’ve instructed my chef to prepare a very special lunch, and now I have someone to share it with.” With a horrible gallantry, he tucked a hand under her elbow and led her toward the pier. “The trip will only take a short time,” he assured her. “I’m moored just west of you.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Oh, my dear.” Jaunty in his white suit and panama, pleased with his victory, he clucked her under the chin. “How naive of you to think I wouldn’t.”

  Tate jerked her arm from his grip, gave one last look back at the resort before stepping down into the waiting tender. “If you hurt them, if you so much as touch either of them, I’ll kill you myself.”

  She planned the ways she would do it as the tender cut through the water.

  In the boutique, Marla sighed. After instructing the clerk to set aside her selections, she set out to track down her daughter. She searched the restaurants and lounges, scanned the beach and the pool. Mildly irked, she went through the gift shop, then back to the boutique.

  When there was no sign of Tate, she marched back to the lobby intending to have the concierge do a page.

  She spotted Matthew jumping out of a cab.

  “Matthew, for goodness sake, where have you been?”

  “Something I had to take care of.” He patted his pocket where the contract he’d just signed was neatly folded. “Hey, I’m only a little late.”

  “Late for what?”

  “We said an hour.” Unconcerned, he glanced at his watch. “It’s just over that. So, did you talk her into a dress or is she still fighting it?”

  “I haven’t seen her,” Marla said grumpily. She was hot, frustrated. “I thought she was with you.”

  “No, we separated. She was going to meet you.” He shrugged. “We were talking about different kinds of weddings, flowers and stuff. She probably got involved in something.”

  “I don’t—the beauty salon,” Marla said, inspired. “She probably wanted to check about getting her hair and nails done, getting a facial.”

  “Tate?”

  “It’s her wedding.” Baffled by the casualness of youth, she shook her head. “Every woman wants to look her best as a bride. She’s down there right now going through pictures of hairstyles.”

  “If you say so.” The idea of Tate getting herself polished and painted for him had him grinning. This he had to see. “Let’s go smoke her out.”

  “I’m going to give her a piece of my mind, too,” Marla muttered. “I was starting to worry.”

  “Champagne?” VanDyke lifted a flute from the tray his steward had set beside a pair of peacock blue lounge chairs.

  “No.”

  “I think you’ll agree that it sets the palate for the lobster dish we’re having for lunch.”

  “I’m not interested in champagne or lobster or your transparent politeness.”

  Ignoring the little tremors of fear, Tate kept her shoulders braced. If she’d gauged it correctly they were about a mile west of the Mermaid. She could swim it if necessary.

  “What I am interested in is why you kidnapped me.”

  “Such a hard word.” VanDyke sampled the champagne, found it perfectly chilled. “Please sit.” His eyes frosted when she stayed braced against the rail. “Sit, now,” he repeated. “We have business to discuss.”

  Bravery was one thing. But when his eyes looked as flat and mindless as a shark’s, she thought it wise to obey. She sat stiffly and forced herself to accept the second flute he held out.

  She’d been wrong, she realized. He had changed. The man she had faced eight years ago had seemed sane. This one . . .

  “To . . .destiny, perhaps?”

  She’d have preferred to dash the contents of the glass into his face. Whatever small satisfaction that might bring her, she realized, would cost dearly. “Destiny?” It bolstered her to find her voice could be calm and even. “Yes, I
could drink to that.”

  Relaxed, he sat back, holding the stem of the flute between his fingers. “It’s so charming to visit with you again. You know, Tate, you made quite a favorable impression on me during our last encounter. I’ve enjoyed watching your professional progress over the years.”

  “If I had known you were associated with the Nomad’s last expedition in any way, I would never have been a part of it.”

  “So foolish.” He crossed his ankles to better enjoy the wine and the company. “Surely you know that I’ve financed a number of scientists, labs, expeditions. Without my backing, numerous projects would never have reached fruition. And the charities I support, worthwhile causes.” He paused to sip again. “Would you deny those causes, Tate, charitable and scientific, because you disapprove of the source?”

  She tipped her glass and sipped as delicately as he. “When the source is a murderer, a thief, a man without conscience or morals, yes.”

  “Fortunately few share your opinion of me, or your rather naive ethics. You disappointed me,” he said in a tone that had her pulse going thick. “You betrayed me. And you’ve cost me.” Absently, he glanced up as a steward appeared. “Lunch is served,” VanDyke told her, smoothly genial again. “I thought you’d enjoy dining al fresco.”

  He rose, offering a hand, which she ignored. “Don’t try my patience, Tate. Small rebellions only irritate me.” He demonstrated by clamping his hand over her wrist. “You’ve already disappointed me deeply,” he continued as she struggled against his hold. “But I’m hoping you’ll take this last chance I’m giving you to redeem yourself.”

  “Take your hands off me.” Temper spiked, propelling her around. Her fist was poised, ready to strike when he grabbed her braid and yanked sharply enough to have stars exploding in front of her eyes. When her body was dragged against him, she discovered the elegant clothes masked a tough, hard body.

  “If you think I have any qualms about striking a woman, think again.” His eyes glittered as he shoved her roughly into a chair. He leaned over her, his breath hitching, his eyes blind. “If I wasn’t a reasonable, civilized man, if I let myself forget that, I’d break you, a bone at a time.”