Try to do without me for awhile, okay? I know you miss me, and I miss you, too, but all I have to do is look across the room, and I can see your beautiful faces. When I hug them, I’m hugging you, and my love flows across the bridge of time to you. Love is not held by the boundaries of time and space. It is limitless and eternal, and my love is always with you. You can feel it, can’t you? I knew you could. Hold onto it and keep me close.
You three are the best sisters a guy could ever have, over and over and over. I love you.
Don’t wait up. I’ll be late.
Ryder
A tear ran down her face, and Faith wiped it away absently. She reread the letter.
“Jesus Christ,” she whispered. “He’s staying in that godforsaken place.”
Charity reached out and took the parchment from Faith’s hand. She ran her fingers over the words on the page. “He sounds happy. I’m glad he found someone to love. It’s all he ever really wanted.”
Hope twisted her hands together. She looked shell-shocked. Shaking, she reached out and took the page from Charity. She held it in her hands for a minute before Faith reached out and took it back. The page looked too fragile in Hope’s restless hands.
“So what do we do now?” Hope asked.
“I don’t know,” Faith said. “But we’ll figure it out as we go. It’s not like he was much help around here anyway.”
She folded the parchment like a treasured heirloom and tucked it back into the pages of the Keats. She stood for a moment undecided, then walked to the bookshelf and tucked the leather volume where it belonged between the Lord Byron and the Dylan Thomas. She ran her hand over the binding and turned to her sisters.
“We’ll wait for him,” she said. “He has to come home eventually, right? It’s not like anyone can put up with him for very long. He’s impossible.”
Faith reached toward the bottle on the desk. She needed something to calm her shaking hands. When she lifted it to her mouth, it felt different. She lowered it slowly, feeling the triangular shape, almost afraid to look. The label on the bottle said Trinity Whisky, Kendall Distillery.
“Well,” Faith said, “he solved one moral dilemma and created a whole new one.”
She held up the bottle, and when her sisters smiled, she tipped the bottle to her lips. Faith nearly choked when a knock sounded on the door of the cottage.
“It’s him!” Hope cried. “He’s back.”
“I don’t think he’d knock on his own door, Miss Spock,” Faith said, moving toward the door. “You’re the one who said this wasn’t science. Don’t you think he’d materialize or something?”
Faith yanked the door open. She didn’t know what she expected on the other side, but certainly not the hunk standing there. He was the most gorgeous thing she had ever seen. When she looked at that pair of blue eyes, she thought for a split second she would throw herself into his arms. She clutched the latch on the door and struggled to find some words.
“Hi,” she squeaked.
“Hi, yourself,” the man said.
He looked like he had stepped from the pages of a romance novel. He had such a beautiful face that he had to be a model or an actor. What the hell was a man like this doing on Trinity Island? And that hair. Dark waves fell over his shoulders in a messy yet seriously seductive way. The bristly stubble on his jaw made him sexy as hell. He wore a plain white t-shirt with a pair of jeans and a leather jacket. Faith had no idea muscles could actually show through leather.
The man stuffed his hand into the pocket of his jeans like he dug for his keys. When he pulled it out again, he held a penny in his hand. He flipped it through his fingers like a magician.
Faith gulped. “Can I help you?”
“I hope so,” the man said. “I’m looking for Ryder Kendall. He lives here, right? I was told to come to the stone cottage.”
He had an accent, the most beautiful accent she had ever heard. Irish, she thought.
“Right place,” Faith said. “But Ryder, well, he’s sort of out of town. On an emergency.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” the man said.
His voice should have been singing rock ballads on the radio. It was throaty, husky, full of quiet passion. Faith desperately tried to focus.
“Someone sick?” he asked.
“What?” Faith said. “Sick? Oh, no, everyone’s fine. Ryder’s a teacher, a historian.”
“There was a teaching emergency?” the man asked. He smiled, and Faith wondered how this man could get better looking.
Faith shook her head. “No, well, yes, something like that. He’s not here, Mr…?”
He held out his hand. “Flynn. Cameron Flynn.”
Her hand still lingered on the latch of the door and, for a split second, so fast it barely registered, Faith had an overwhelming desire to close the door on the handsome face. Instead, she opened the door wider, and the stranger stepped inside. She put her hand in his and shook, feeling the warmth and surety of his grip. He held her hand for quite a long time. Her sisters hovered behind her, listening and watching, but for some reason they were leaving her on her own to deal with the stranger. It was hell being the oldest.
“And you are?” Cameron asked.
Faith shook her head. She couldn’t find any words. Did she even know any words? He released her hand, and she took a step back, trying to put distance between them. She had to, because she had a desire to reach out and touch his face, or maybe run her fingers through the hair that fell over the collar of his jacket.
She shook her head again. She grasped at any words she could find. She could barely remember her own name. “I’m Faith. Ryder’s sister.”
Where did he get that smile?
“How do you know our brother?” Hope asked.
Thank God someone could talk, because Faith’s throat felt dry. When she ran her tongue across her lips, she saw the man’s eyes dart to her mouth. His eyes rose slowly to meet hers, crawling across the planes of her face with a seductive heat that made her blush. His eyes were filled with slivers of silver light, and when the man finally dragged his eyes away from her, she felt a moment of relief. He gave Hope a smile.
“I’m a bit of an historian, too,” Flynn said. “Immigration patterns of the early colonials here in Virginia. Your brother planned to help me with some research I’m doing on some of the first families. Since I was born in Ireland, my primary area of interest is the Irish. Your family fit into the profile.”
“The profile?” Faith asked.
When would she would be able to form a complete sentence? And why hadn’t Ryder ever mentioned this man? This was a man who should be mentioned. His eyes had found her again. She should learn to keep her mouth shut if she couldn’t be coherent.
“Irish. The first families in Virginia. The Caindale legacy. That profile.”
He smiled at her like she was a slow child and he explained how to tie her shoes. She nodded like the slow child she thought she might be. Mrs. Neilson had always thought she was a bit slow. Perhaps she’d been right.
“I’m working on a book,” he explained.
He looked toward Hope and Charity for help with the stupid sister. Charity went to him and touched his arm. Faith took a breath. Thank God for Charity.
“Wow,” Charity said. “A book. Ryder always talked about how much he wanted to write a book, but he got so preoccupied with things.”
“He wanted to write a book?” Faith asked. “How could I not know that?”
She glanced at Cameron Flynn for help, but he raised those dark brows and shrugged.
“How long have you known our brother?” Hope asked.
“Not long,” Flynn said. “We’ve been corresponding a couple of weeks. I tried e-mail, but he never answered, so I resorted to the old-fashioned way. Pen and paper.”
Charity laughed. “Ryder’s not much for technology. He’s kind of a throwback to the olden days.”
“Aye,” Flynn said. “He seemed a bit odd. Like he didn’t quite fit into the times.
I’m sorry I’ve missed him, though. It would have been great to see him. We have lots to talk about.”
“I’m sure he would have liked to see you, too,” Charity said. “He may not be here, but Ryder can still help you. He has lots of documents here already. Maybe you’d like to look at some.”
“That would be great,” he said, “but I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“You wouldn’t be imposing at all,” Hope said. “You could work here in the cottage while Ryder’s away. I know he wouldn’t mind. Faith?”
Faith watched Cameron Flynn’s hands as he flipped that penny. He wound it through his fingers, tripping it across his knuckles like magic. Something about it bothered her, but of course that was ridiculous. It was a nervous habit. Everyone had one.
Her eyes locked on the penny, Faith finally closed the door. For some reason, she could not imagine letting this man walk out of the cottage now that he had entered and was in their lives. Besides, it never hurt to have a handsome, charming man around the house.
“Faith?” Hope asked.
Faith tore her eyes away from the penny and looked toward her sister. Hope seemed to have something on her mind.
“What did you say?” she asked.
“I’m talking about Cameron’s book. Maybe you could help him with the research. You’re pretty good at that.”
What the hell was Hope talking about? Research? How did the hell did they get on that topic?
“I know my way around research,” Faith said.
Cameron watched all of them, but his glance kept coming back to her. She felt a little warm, too. Could a man make you feel warm by the way he looked at you? She had thoughts that she should offer the stranger some dinner and thought another drink might be nice, a real drink with ice cubes. A hand waved in front of her face. Hope didn’t seem to be finished.
“Don’t mind her,” Hope said to Cameron, “she zones out every now and then. Lots on her mind. Faith, Cameron’s staying at the Trinity Inn. He’s going to be here awhile. Don’t you think he should come to the Halloween party next weekend?”
“Sure, yes, he should come,” Faith said.
She turned to the stranger, although he hardly seemed like a stranger. For some reason, she felt like this man had always been in her life. She certainly wasn’t going to let him leave, not with a face like that. She made a decision. Finally.
“Cameron, we’re ordering pizza. Can you stay for dinner? We could talk about your book. Do you have time?”
“I have all the time in the world,” Cameron said. “I’d love to have a chance to get to know you better.”
Cameron Flynn had the most beautiful eyes, and when he smiled at her, Faith felt like the only woman in the world. This was a man she definitely wanted to get to know.
THE END
WWW.AMBERCARLTON.COM
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Amber Carlton's love of historical romance began when she picked up her first copy of The Passionate Adventures of Angelique, following the life and loves of a woman in the 17th century. Amber is entranced by all things historical, but has a special fascination with English and early American history. She lives in the present but loves to write about being "elsewhere".
Her obsessions include the writing of Stephen King, Philip J. Fry and his friends on Futurama, the world of Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and things that go bump in the night. Her kids and family also hold a special place in her heart.
Amber lives in Ohio with her boyfriend and dog.
Siren Publishing, Inc.
www.SirenPublishing.com
Converted with Word to HTML.
Carlton, Amber - Trinity Magic (Siren Publishing Romance) Page 42
