Family Secrets: A Classic Romance

by Ruth Ryan Langan

  “You’re not going. You’ll be hurt.”

  “Ivy.” The old woman stood and took her cold hands. “I have to go. I have to know what this person knows about my past.”

  Ivy snatched her hands free and ran to the door. “I’m going to find Caine, and talk some sense into him. He’ll stop you from going into a trap.”

  “Caine has already said he approves.”

  Ivy turned. Her face mirrored her shock. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Then ask him. He said he understands what this means to me. And he wants me to see it through to the end.”

  Ivy’s face darkened with fury. “Where is he?”

  Gertrude shook her head. “I have no idea. You can try his room.”

  Ivy hurried down the hall and pounded on Caine’s door. When there was no response, she turned the knob and let herself in. The room was empty.

  She had to find him. She had to get him to stop his aunt from this meeting with a blackmailer.

  As she moved past her room, the door opened and a hand was clamped over her mouth. She was unceremoniously hauled inside and thrown roughly up against the wail. With one hand the door was closed and locked.

  She found herself staring into Caine’s scowling face. His gray eyes were bleak and his slanting black eyebrows drew together to form a deep frown.

  “You went for your ride with young Tisdale.”

  “Yes. Caine, I have to talk to—”

  “And were you impressed by his expensive automobile?”

  “Don’t be silly. I—”

  His hands thrust into her hair, pulling her head back. “And did he tell you how much he admired you, and wanted to see you again?”

  “Caine, stop this. I have important—”

  “And did you tell him to call you when you got back to the city?”

  She swallowed. “Yes, but—”

  Slate-gray eyes met hers. Eyes that were cold and ruthless. His fingers moved to the buttons of her blouse. “Last night we started something. Today I intend to finish it.”

  One by one he undid the buttons, all the while watching her eyes. Caught in the hypnotic spell of his steel gaze, she was powerless to stop him. He slipped the cotton shirt from her shoulders. Beneath it, she wore only an ivory silk chemise.

  “Silk,” he breathed, running a finger along the narrow strap. “Silk against your flesh.” He ran an open palm across her shoulder. “Your flesh against mine. I’ve thought of nothing else.”

  His mouth crushed down on hers, shutting off the protest she was about to make. Passion caught them both by surprise. His arms came around her, molding her tightly to him, until she could feel the wild thunder of his heartbeat through her skin.

  She caught him by the shoulders, clinging as if afraid to let go. She felt the blood pounding in her temples.

  His hands moved along her back, caressing, kneading, feeling the softness of silk and the even softer skin beneath.

  He wasn’t gentle. She had always known he wouldn’t be a gentle lover. His rough hands moved along her sides, then upward to her breasts.

  “Soft. You’re so soft,” he breathed inside her mouth.

  Heat became flame, consuming them.

  On a moan, she tightened her grip on his shoulders, knowing that if she let go, she would sink to the floor. Her legs could no longer support her.

  While his hands worked their magic, touching her as no man had ever dared touch her before, he ran hot, moist kisses along the column of her throat.

  She arched herself in his arms, loving the feel of his lips on her skin. Her body ached to be touched by those work-roughened hands.

  “Caine, this is madness.”

  “Yes. Yes.” His lips moved to her ear, where he nibbled the lobe, then darted his tongue with hot, quick thrusts.

  He found her lips eager, parted, and covered them with a searing kiss.

  Ivy had never known this raw hunger for any man. She was his. She could no more deny the need for him than she could stop breathing. She would give him anything he asked. There was nothing she could deny him.

  As his lips moved over her throat, his name was a sigh on her lips. “Caine. Oh, Caine. We have to stop this. You know, we have to.”

  “Why?” He lifted his head, then kissed her again. His voice was a raw whisper against her lips. “Why?”

  “Because Aunt Tru is alone. And she needs us.”

  A grandfather clock in the hallway chimed the hour. He stiffened. Pressing his lips into a tangle of her hair, he held her against him. Both of them were struggling to calm their ragged breathing.

  “What’s come over me? I need to think.” He felt the press of her body against his, and fought the overwhelming desire to touch her again.

  With her, he lost all control. At a time when his aunt needed him, he was selfishly thinking about his own needs. He had nearly taken her there, in broad daylight, on the floor of her room. What was happening to him?

  He drew in a long, burning breath. “Just stay here, out of the way. I have to get to that cottage ahead of Trudy. I know a place where I can hide and see everything that goes on inside.”

  “Like hell.” He blinked at her unexpected outburst. “We’re in this together. I have no intention of staying in my room while you and Aunt Tru face a blackmailer.”

  He caught her roughly by the shoulders and backed her against the wall. “You’re staying here where you’re safe. There’s no telling what the blackmailer will do when confronted.”

  “I’m going with you. And nothing you can say will stop me.”

  He stared down into those fierce green eyes and knew defeat.

  He let out a long sigh. “All right. Come along. And, Weed, remember. We’re going to stay out of sight so we can catch a blackmailer. Try not to knock anything over.”

  “When this is finished, you’re going to pay for that remark.”

  Chapter Ten

  With Caine leading the way, Ivy plunged into the dense woods behind the pond.

  “It’s a lot longer this way, but no one can see us. Stay close,” he cautioned.

  They slipped from brilliant sunshine to an eerie world of filtered light and shadow. Giant evergreens towered above them, blotting out the sky. The trees grew so close together, that in spots, their branches were interwoven, like arms linked. Footsteps were cushioned by dirt and layers of pine needles. Their nostrils were assaulted by the dank scent of moist earth and the sharp, distinctive aroma of evergreen.

  As they moved deeper into the woods, the shadows were more pronounced. They had entered a world of perpetual twilight. Above them the forest towered like giant cathedral spires, and even the normal nature sounds seemed hushed. Few birds except owls preferred the darkness. Even the usual hum of insects was absent.

  Ivy had the strangest feeling that if she cupped her mouth and shouted, her voice would bounce off the giant trees, echoing and reechoing throughout the forest.

  Caine stopped to get his bearings, and Ivy was grateful for the chance to rest against the trunk of a tree. The rough bark felt cool and slightly damp against her back. As they started up again, she stared at the width of Caine’s shoulders. He was a strong man. But it wasn’t his physical strength that impressed her. There was about him an inner strength that she had sensed from their first encounter. He was a man of great integrity. He had a strong sense of loyalty toward those who depended on him. He would never let them down. She instinctively trusted him. Though Ivy was frightened for Aunt Tru, and worried that the secrets from her past would cause her pain, she felt no fear for herself. She somehow knew Caine would never let her be hurt.

  Deep in thought, she stiffened when his hand dropped to her shoulder. Her eyes widened. He lifted a finger to his lips to signal silence.

  “We’re almost there. When we enter the clearing, we’ll be at the rear of the cottage. I’m going to run across that open space first, and check to be certain we’re alone. When I wave, run as fast as you can to the back door.”

  S
he nodded.

  Caine stood at the edge of the clearing, looking left and right. From a canopy of vines, she watched his lean, muscled figure streak across the clearing and disappear inside the cottage. For long minutes she waited, her heart racing. At this very moment he might have startled the blackmailer inside the building. They could be struggling. Caine could need her. She clamped damp palms together and lifted her fingertips to her lips in a prayerful attitude. She’d promised to wait for his signal. She strained to see the back door, afraid to even blink.

  After what seemed an eternity, she saw Caine’s figure appear at the door. He waved. Glancing about first, she dashed across the clearing and stepped inside the cottage. Taking long gulps of air, she followed him from the small laundry-workroom, through the kitchen and into the living room.

  “Where will we hide?” she asked.

  “When I was looking over the cottage, I noticed a small loft up there.” He pointed to the far side of the room.

  “Yes. My father built it for me. I used to call it my studio. Come on.” She grabbed his hand, but he resisted her.

  “I couldn’t find a way up there,” Caine complained.

  “That’s because we kept the ladder in here.” Ivy opened a small panel in the wall and slid out a rough, handmade ladder.

  She leaned it against the loft and led the way up, with Caine following. Then she pulled the ladder up and placed it against the back wall.

  Caine glanced around the small loft. It was no larger than eight by ten feet, and carpeted in thick tweed shag. A wide wooden railing ran the length of it. It would be possible to sit behind that railing and see everything without being seen. Above them was a skylight. Below them the entire lower level of the cottage was spread out.

  “I don’t want you to speak, Ivy. Not even a whisper. I suspect the writer of those letters will be feeling very jumpy. I don’t want any hint that we’re here, or we just might scare off our blackmailer.”

  She nodded.

  “Get as comfortable as you can. You may have to stay in one position for a very long time.”

  She sat down, leaning back against the wall. With just the turn of her head, she could see in any of three directions below. At her side, Caine sat and lifted her fingers to his lips.

  She sat in silence, achingly aware of the man beside her. Though he didn’t speak, his thoughts were mirrored in his eyes. He was remembering the simmering passion that he had unleashed by a simple touch. It was still there, smoldering between them, waiting for release.

  The front door opened. Caine dropped Ivy’s fingers. She felt him tense beside her.

  Gertrude stood in the doorway, staring around. Cautiously she entered, then walked to the fireplace.

  For the first time today, Ivy realized that the stone had been removed, revealing the small safe. Taking an envelope from her pocket, Gertrude thrust it into the recess in the stone, as she had been directed in the note, then placed the cutout stone over the hole. Giving one last glance around, the old woman strode briskly from the cottage, carefully closing the door behind her.

  Ivy turned toward Caine. He held a finger to his lips. She nodded.

  The next twenty minutes seemed an eternity. Just when Ivy had begun to relax, she heard a sound—a loud tapping sound on the flagstone walk. A moment later, the front door was thrust open. Ivy’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a gasp. She stared down in horror at the figure of her mother.

  Diana paused in the doorway to allow her eyes to adjust to the gloom of the house, made darker after a walk in the bright sunshine. She walked across the room, staring at the fine, old leaded windows, running a hand along the neglected wood paneling. For a moment she sat on the hearth and touched a hand to the rough stones of the fireplace. Ivy held her breath as her mother gazed upward, staring at the wood-beamed ceiling. Then she crossed to the kitchen, where they could hear her footsteps echo on the the floor. A few minutes later, Diana again entered the living room. After gazing at the fireplace for long moments, she walked to the hallway that led to the bathroom and bedrooms. Ivy could hear her mother’s footsteps as she paused, first at Ivy’s old room and then at the master bedroom. It was then that she heard the sound.

  It started softly, like the wind sighing in the trees. As it grew louder, Ivy turned wide, horrified eyes to Caine. Her mother was crying. Sobbing her heart out. She was grieving. Something long forgotten stirred in Ivy. She remembered her mother dry-eyed beside the coffin. Though Ivy had wept until she thought her heart would break, Diana had remained unemotional throughout the entire ordeal of her husband’s long illness and death. She had kept it all inside. And now, something had triggered the love and grief that she’d denied.

  Ivy longed to comfort her. As she made a move to stand, Caine’s hand clamped around her wrist.

  “I have to go to her.”

  “No.” The word was curt. “You can’t move.” Only when he felt her acquiescence, did he release his hold on her.

  Drawing her knees up, Ivy rested her chin and closed her eyes, wishing she could soothe her mother’s pain. Beside her, Caine never moved.

  When Diana emerged from the bedroom, she was dabbing a handkerchief to her eyes. With one last lingering look around the old cottage, she opened the door and walked out.

  “Then she isn’t the one.” Ivy let out a long sigh of relief and felt her hands tremble.

  Caine dropped an arm around her shoulder and drew her close. Once again, they began the agony of waiting.

  When the front door opened a second time, there was no warning sound in advance. Ivy felt Caine stiffen beside her. They both stared down at the figure of Darren as he walked quickly into the room. Ivy turned to see the look of stunned disbelief of Caine’s face. Slowly the look was replaced by one of bleak despair.

  “Ivy,” Darren called loudly. “Caine. Anyone here?”

  Caine laid a hand on Ivy’s arm to caution her into silence.

  Darren strode from the room into the kitchen. A moment later he returned, then walked down the hallway. “Ivy. Caine. You here?”

  His voice sounded hollow in the empty house.

  “I’d sure like to know where everyone disappeared to today,” he grumbled.

  Pulling the front door open, he stepped out into bright sunlight and firmly closed the door behind him.

  Ivy turned toward Caine and saw the relief shudder through him. He gave her a weak smile, then dropped his face into his hands.

  Sharing Caine’s elation that neither her mother nor his brother had proved to be the guilty party, Ivy touched his shoulder in a gesture of affection. He looked up. His smile widened. Without a word he drew her into his arms and buried his face against her neck.

  At a muted sound, they drew apart and stared at the hooded, robed figure crossing the room. He hadn’t used the front door, but had entered instead from the rear of the cottage. Without even looking around he hurried to the fireplace, stepped up on the hearth and removed the stone from its place in front of the safe. Reaching inside, he removed an envelope, tore it open and stuffed the check beneath the sheet that he had fashioned into a disguise. Then he calmly stepped from the hearth and turned.

  Ivy found herself staring down at the figure, straining to find something familiar, something that would identify the blackmailer. She turned to see Caine’s reaction. Beside her, Caine’s fists clenched at his sides.

  The man left quickly the way he had entered, through the back door. As soon as the door clicked shut, Caine stood and helped Ivy to her feet. Together they lowered the ladder and climbed down from the loft.

  “Come on.” Caine threw open the front door and beckoned her to follow. “We can’t let him get away with that check.”

  There was no longer any reason to hide. With the sun high in the sky, they ran along the curving ribbon of driveway toward the big house on the hill.

  Once they were at the house, Caine summoned the butler. “Chester, have any of the cars been taken from the garage?”

  The old ma
n shook his head. “The garage is locked, sir. All the cars are in there.”

  “Good. I want you to make sure that none of those vehicles leaves the grounds. No matter what you have to do. Do you understand?”

  The little man’s eyes danced. “I knew there was something going on around here. Miss St. Martin’s been acting so funny all morning. Is there some trouble, Mr. St. Martin?”

  “There could be, Chester. Just see that no one leaves this place until I say so.”

  “Yes sir.” The old man drew himself up to his full five feet four inches and headed for the garage.

  “I’m going to find our letter writer, even if I have to search every room in this house,” Caine said through gritted teeth. “Let’s start with Aunt Gertrude’s room. I want to make certain she’s all right.”

  Caine knocked on his aunt’s door. There was no sound from within.

  “Aunt Trudy. Are you in there?”

  Pressing her ear against the door, Ivy muttered. “I hear something. Someone’s in there, Caine. Maybe she’s been hurt.”

  “Stand aside, Ivy.” Caine’s features were contorted with rage. “I’m breaking down this door.”

  As he threw his shoulder against the door, they could hear the lock turning from inside. Abruptly the door was opened. Gertrude faced them. Tears streamed down her face.

  “Oh, Caine.” The old woman’s face crumpled.

  Instantly, he caught her in his arms and held her close. “What is it, Aunt Trudy? Have you been hurt?”

  She sobbed for long moments against his chest, then pushed herself away. “I seem to have done more crying this weekend than I have in a lifetime. I haven’t been physically hurt, Caine. But the things I’ve learned today have caused so much pain, as well as joy.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  She led Caine and Ivy into her bedroom. For long minutes she stared at Ivy, as if really seeing her for the first time. Then she turned to the papers on her desk.

  “When I returned from the cottage, these were on my desk. Our blackmailer must have entered my room as soon as I left it, and placed these documents here. Then he went out through the balcony and lowered himself on sheets tied together. Since my room overlooks the woods, he figured no one would see him leaving by this method.”