Safe in His Arms

by Christine Scott

  “Lady, you’ve got some nerve,” he said with a shake of his head. “After yesterday—”

  “Yesterday was a mistake,” she insisted. Her chin lifted, she met his gaze straight on. “I made a mistake.”

  Her apology caught him by surprise. He wasn’t sure what he’d thought she’d say next. But he would never have guessed her to admit she was wrong. Though his curiosity was piqued, he stared at her, letting her continue to flounder without his help.

  Looking discomfited, she averted her eyes, focusing her gaze on the flat stretch of calm water. “I shouldn’t have come to your house without calling first. Yesterday I—I’d been to the library. I’d just come across the articles in the newspaper about my mother’s—” Her voice caught. Swallowing hard, she continued in a voice that was stronger, clearer, “About my mother’s death. When I saw your father’s picture in the paper, I—”

  “You assumed, just like everyone else, that he was the man who murdered your mother.”

  “That he was the man who was accused of murdering my mother,” she corrected, whipping her gaze around to face him. Without so much as a blink of an eye she added, “I’m not sure if that’s true.”

  Winded by the impact of that simple statement, he refused to get his hopes up, refused to believe that after all this time, she was going to tell him that his father did not commit the crime for which he had been convicted. Nothing in this world came that easy. Almost afraid to hear her answer, he forced himself to ask, “What are you trying to say? That my father was innocent?”

  She sighed. “No, I’m not.”

  Samuel leaned forward, gripping the railing as disappointment crashed in around him. “What do you want?” he whispered harshly, the words barely audible. “Why can’t you just leave me and the past alone?”

  “I can’t,” she said, her voice so soft he could barely hear her over the pounding of his own heart. She drew in a trembling breath. “You have to understand. I have no memory of my past, of the time I spent on Prudence Island. Until a few weeks ago, I didn’t even know that Eve Pierce was my birth mother.”

  The admission stunned him. He wasn’t sure whether to believe her or not. He looked at her, anger and bitterness churning inside him. Hadn’t Jessie Pierce and her faulty memory caused enough damage to him and his family? After she’d left Prudence Island, it had taken him years to pick up the shattered pieces of his childhood. Surely she didn’t expect him to sit back and let her destroy the rest of his life, too.

  He gave a disgusted breath. “Even if I could help you, which I can’t, what makes you think I’d want to do something so crazy?”

  “Because my past is yours, as well,” she said, bearing the weight of his anger without flinching. “I have to believe that you’re the one person on this island who needs to know the truth as much as I do.”

  He stopped and stared at her, unable to find the words to argue. He did want to know the truth. More than anything else, he needed to close that chapter of his life for good.

  “You say you don’t remember the past,” he said, narrowing a shrewd glance. “What makes you think there’s still a chance to prove that my father is innocent?”

  She searched his face as though trying to memorize each line and curve. “You bear an uncanny resemblance to your father.”

  “Tell me something I don’t already know.”

  “You’re not making this easy for me,” she said with an irritated sigh, showing the first signs of losing her patience.

  “I didn’t know I was supposed to,” he countered.

  Annoyance glittered in her eyes. “Fine, then explain this. You admit that you look like your father. If he killed my mother, and I was a witness to her death, then why aren’t I afraid of you?”

  “You’re not?” he asked, giving a harsh laugh.

  “No, I’m not,” she said, slowly shaking her head. Samuel winced inwardly at the unmistakable look of pity shadowing her expression. “When I look at you, it’s not your face that I fear…it’s the bitterness that I see in your eyes.”

  The admission cut him to the quick. He hadn’t realized how easily she could read his emotions, how much he had revealed to her already. He wondered what else she knew about him.

  “All I want is to find out the truth,” she said, drawing him out of his troubled thoughts. “I want to know what really happened to my mother. If you feel the same way, couldn’t we work together to find the answers?”

  Samuel had lived his entire life with the shame of his father’s past. For too many years he had hoped against hope, fighting in vain to find a way to prove his father’s innocence.

  Not once, in all those years, had anyone ever offered to help him.

  Not until now.

  Jessie seemed so earnest, so unbelievably innocent. While her intentions might be good, her naïveté was obvious. She had no idea of the battle that lay ahead. No idea what sort of ugliness she would expose in her quest for the truth.

  Although he had more reason than anyone to want to see her suffer, he didn’t want to be the one to disillusion her.

  Samuel sighed, deciding it best to delay his refusal. “It’s time we headed back to port.”

  She nodded but remained on deck as he returned to the pilothouse. He restarted the motor, the roaring engine shattering the quiet of the ocean. Sensing her disappointment, he kept an eye on her as he guided the boat toward the shore.

  The wind whipped her short hair into her eyes as she clung to the railing. Instead of fighting the rolling pitch of the boat, she let her body move with each rise and fall. Her legs were slender, as were her hips. At the sight of them, he felt an unwanted stirring of awareness deep in his belly.

  No matter how ill-advised it might be, he couldn’t deny the pull of attraction he felt whenever she was near.

  Anxious to return to shore, he opened up the throttle, picking up speed. He didn’t let up on the gas until the shore came into sharp focus. Slowing, he eased the boat across the bay, heading for the nearly deserted harbor.

  A lone figure stood on the dock, leaning against a piling at the slip assigned to the Marianna.

  Frowning, Samuel reached for the binoculars, unable to believe his bad luck. His gut tightened in agitation. From the moment she’d reappeared in his life, he knew it would be only a matter of time before Jessie’s presence on the island would cause him problems.

  It would seem that trouble was already beginning.

  There was an unexpected visitor awaiting them… Prudence Island’s sheriff.

  Chapter 5

  The man waiting for them on the dock looked to be in his mid to late fifties. He had a head of thick, reddish-blond hair, a broad, square face and a strong chin. Considering his age, he stood tall and erect, his large body trim and athletic. He wore the dark-brown uniform of the sheriff’s department. The badge pinned to his shirt glittered, catching the morning sun.

  Despite the differences in their ages, Jessie felt the heat of the lawman’s appreciative gaze upon her. She shifted uncomfortably on the deck of the shrimp boat, looking to Samuel for a clue as to why the island’s law enforcement might be present.

  Samuel stared straight ahead, refusing to meet her gaze. Minutes ago his face had been a mirror of pain and anguish, the emotions he’d felt in his heart. Now he wore a stony expression, his feelings unreadable. The change in his demeanor set off warning bells in her head.

  Something was wrong.

  Her troubled gaze returned to the sheriff. Just what was the man doing here?

  Samuel slid the Marianna alongside the dock. He cut the motor, and they bumped to an uneven stop. Without a word he stepped out onto the deck and tossed a line, securing the boat to a piling.

  While relieved to be safely ashore, Jessie almost felt disappointed that their trip was over. Samuel hadn’t given her his answer yet. She didn’t know if he would help her in her quest for the truth about their past. For all she knew, this would be the last she saw of him. Pushing the disturbing thought from
her mind, Jessie fumbled with the buckles of her life jacket.

  “Miss Pierce?” The sheriff called out as he stepped toward the shrimp boat, demanding her attention. He focused his sharp gaze solely upon her, ignoring Samuel, who stood nearby on the deck.

  “Y-yes, I’m Jessie Pierce,” she stammered, feeling slightly bewildered. Prudence Island was a small community, but it still amazed her that so many people seemed to know of her. The fact that this instant notoriety might have something to do with her relationship to one of the island’s few murder victims only added to her unease.

  With his hands resting on his hips, his booted feet set wide apart, the sheriff gave the impression of a solid and immovable force. “My name’s Sheriff Gilbert Broward.”

  Jessie’s heart thumped unevenly in her chest as recognition jolted her. She knew the name. In the news articles about her mother’s death, Deputy Gil Broward of the island’s Sheriff’s department had been the first to arrive at the scene of the murder. The man standing before her had discovered her mother’s body.

  “I had a call you might be in trouble,” he drawled with his thick Southern accent.

  “Trouble?” Jessie frowned, confused by his assumption. Nervously she tugged at the last of the life jacket’s buckles, yanking it loose. She slipped the jacket from her shoulders and suddenly felt exposed, vulnerable.

  “Yes, ma’am.” The sheriff cast a pointed glance at Samuel. The barest hint of an amused smile touched his lips. “A few concerned citizens felt that you hadn’t left the island of your own accord. That you might be in danger.”

  Stunned, her gaze flew to Samuel.

  Samuel refused to look at her. Instead, he stood stiffly on the deck, his muscles tense, as though fighting an inner battle for self-control.

  Empathy and anger billowed inside her. Jessie did not understand how the sheriff—or the townspeople, for that matter—had jumped to the wrong conclusion. She was appalled by the man’s attitude. By the blunt and uncaring manner in which he was handling his inquiry. It seemed to her that he was intentionally goading Samuel into a confrontation.

  As though to give credence to her concerns, Samuel moved closer to the railing of the boat, looking ready to leap down onto the dock. Given further provocation, she had no doubt that he wouldn’t let a uniform stand in the way of defending his tarnished honor.

  Jessie’s chest tightened with frustration and with fear. What had Samuel done to deserve this sort of treatment? How could the sheriff and the citizens of this island assume the worst of him?

  But she already knew, didn’t she?

  It had to do with his father’s past, with her mother’s death. Samuel was still being punished for the sins of his father. And she’d been the catalyst to the harassment. By forcing herself into Samuel’s life, she had brought on this unjust humiliation.

  The heat went out of her anger. Tears of regret stung her eyes. She blinked away the emotion, knowing sympathy was the last thing Samuel would want. But still, if this was the way he’d been treated all of his life, then how could he have stayed on Prudence Island? Why hadn’t he left years ago?

  Brushing the unsettling thought aside, she concentrated on the problem at hand—how to ward off a confrontation. A confrontation which would only end badly for Samuel. The need to protect him nearly overwhelmed her.

  Deciding it best to soothe ruffled tempers, she forced a pleasant smile. “There must be a misunderstanding, Sheriff. As you can see, I’m just fine.”

  The sheriff peered up at her, his expression doubtful.

  “Samuel was kind enough to give me a tour of the island. We just returned.” She looked to Samuel for support, her smile strained. “Isn’t that right, Samuel?”

  Samuel hesitated, then gave a grudging nod.

  Jessie breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

  “I didn’t know the two of you were acquainted,” the sheriff said, his gaze speculative.

  Samuel did not answer. He remained mute, his expression hard and uncompromising. The air between the two men crackled with tension.

  “Actually, we just met a few days ago, when I arrived on the island,” Jessie said, taking up the slack, struggling to avoid a collision of wills. “Samuel helped me when I had car trouble.”

  “Well now, wasn’t that convenient,” the sheriff drawled. His good-ol’-boy smile didn’t reach his eyes. The gesture seemed cold, calculating.

  “Yes, it was,” Jessie said, searching for a way to end this unnerving conversation. She brushed the wind-blown hair from her eyes, giving a self-deprecating grimace. “Well, it’s certainly been a long morning. I must look a mess. Perhaps we could continue this conversation at another time, Sheriff. Right now, I’d like to go back to Gull’s Cottage and take a hot bath.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the sheriff said, taking the hint. He stepped back, as though preparing to leave. Then, catching her off guard, he asked, “May I offer you a ride home?”

  “No,” she said, louder than she’d intended. Too loud, in fact. The sheriff raised an eyebrow in surprise. While she couldn’t explain the reason, the last thing she wanted was to be alone with this man. Forcing herself to be cordial, she softened her refusal. “No, thank you, Sheriff. It’s a beautiful morning. I’d rather walk. I could use the exercise.”

  The sheriff nodded, but didn’t leave. He studied the two of them, waiting for their next move.

  Slowly Jessie turned to Samuel, feeling the heat of uncertainty rise on her face. Samuel still had not told her of his decision. She didn’t know whether he intended to help her or not. With the sheriff standing there watching, she didn’t know how to broach the subject, how to get his answer.

  “Thank you for the tour, Samuel,” she said, handing him the life jacket. Their fingers brushed as they made the exchange. Jessie drew in quick breath at the spark of awareness his touch brought her.

  Samuel glanced at her sharply, his pale blue eyes searching her face.

  She swallowed hard, forcing herself to continue, “We haven’t settled our plans for…for dinner this evening. Will seven o’clock be all right?”

  He stared at her for a moment, not saying a word.

  More heat flushed her skin as she waited for his answer. Subterfuge wasn’t her forte. She felt clumsy, inept. She knew her inexperience was showing. Most times she was scrambling to find an excuse to decline a man’s invitation for dinner, not using her feminine wiles to trick him into seeing her again.

  But she told herself this was no ordinary situation. Too much depended on his decision. If Samuel declined her invitation, then she would know he had no intention of helping her. If he said yes, then she wouldn’t be alone in her quest for the truth behind her mother’s death.

  Finally Samuel nodded. His deep voice vibrated in her ears, giving her such sweet relief. “Seven o’clock will be fine.”

  “I’ll see you then,” she said, with a genuine, heartfelt smile.

  Clambering down the ladder on the side of the boat, refusing both Samuel’s and the sheriff’s attempt to help, Jessie stepped down onto the dock. With the heavy measure of two separate gazes upon her she made her escape, hurrying to the beach and to Gull’s Cottage.

  Samuel was still reeling from the impact of Jessie’s departure when Sheriff Gil Broward slowly turned his attention to him.

  Any lingering civility disappeared from the man’s eyes. His true feelings for Samuel surfaced with a look of pure contempt. Not one to mince words, he said, “Just what the hell do you think you’re up to, Samuel?”

  With a smile that was certain to annoy the pompous lawman, Samuel answered the question with one of his own. “What makes you think I’m up to something, Sheriff?”

  “Years of experience.” The sheriff’s stare was steely, chilling. “You’ve got the look of a guilty man.”

  Samuel’s smile faded, the words bringing him a sharp reminder of the past, of the helplessness he’d felt when his father had been unjustly convicted of murder. A conviction in which the man before him p
layed a large role. Facing the condemnation in the other man’s gaze, he said, “Seems to me I’m not the one who should have anything to feel guilty about.”

  The sheriff flinched.

  Samuel took little comfort that his blow had hit its mark. He’d learned long ago that nothing would be accomplished in trading insults with this man.

  “Listen to me, Samuel,” the sheriff said as he stepped forward, straightening his shoulders, using his big body to intimidate. “You’ve been a thorn in my side since the day I arrested your daddy. You think I don’t know that you blame me for everything bad that’s ever happened to you and your family?”

  Samuel did not answer. He stood on the deck, silently daring the man to continue.

  “Dammit!” The sheriff released a whistling breath of impatience. “I’ve had just about enough of you and your sanctimonious notions of persecution.”

  Samuel couldn’t help himself. Knowing he was only fanning the fire of ill feelings, he said, “Wrong again, Sheriff. I’m not the one with the chip on his shoulder.”

  The sheriff stiffened, his hands balled at his sides. Like a snake coiled for action, he looked ready to strike. Instead, he jabbed an angry finger in his direction. “Your father’s gone. So is that poor girl’s mamma. There’s no need to disturb the dead.” His voice, as well as his hand, shook with emotion. “What’s past is past. Don’t you forget that.”

  Lowering the brim of his hat over his eyes, the sheriff pivoted on the ball of one foot, then strode the length of the dock. His booted feet pounded against the wooden boards, his long legs making short the distance to his patrol car. He slung himself into the front seat, gunning the engine to life. Spitting up dust and crushed shell, he peeled out of the dock’s parking lot.

  And Samuel realized he’d just been given a warning.

  His chest burned with agitation. Slowly he released the breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He and the sheriff went back a long way. They shared a dark history that had started with the arrest of his father for the murder of Eve Pierce. Thanks to his rebellious teenage years, their relationship had grown steadily worse as time had passed.