Someday Soon

by Debbie Macomber

  “I’m sorry to wake you, but you’ll be far more comfortable upstairs.”

  She smiled sleepily and yawned. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “I’ll go up with you,” he said, offering her his hand. He guided her up the stairs and escorted her to the bedroom he’d had readied for her arrival. He pointed out his own room, which was at the far end of the hallway. Linette didn’t know whether to be relieved or disheartened that his bedroom was so far removed from her own.

  “Can I get you anything?” he asked, poised in her doorway.

  “No, I’m fine.”

  He nodded, and it seemed to her that he wanted to say something more. The look in his eyes intensified, and he hesitated before adding, “Good night, then.”

  “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Speaking of the morning,” he said, leaping on the excuse to linger.

  “Yes?”

  “I thought we’d cut down a Christmas tree and decorate it.”

  Linette’s heart gladdened at the prospect. “That sounds like fun.”

  The strong sexual attraction between them spit and sizzled much like the logs had earlier. Nor could Linette deny what was happening to her body. A tingling awareness spread through her, leaving in its wake a desire she’d shared only with one other man.

  Linette realized that Cain was a full partner in these feelings, but like her, he was bewildered and unsure.

  “Good night,” she said with a sigh.

  He swallowed tightly, nodded, and turned away.

  Cain wandered back down the stairs. Settling back onto the chair he’d recently vacated, he rubbed a hand down his face.

  Linette deserved more than he could offer. Already she’d made it clear that she wouldn’t be satisfied with the bare bones details of his life. She wanted to know it all.

  He couldn’t tell her about Deliverance Company.

  It was necessary to shield her from the reality of who and what he was. Not knowing would protect her from the worry. Protect her from the harshness of what he did for a living.

  After watching Michael die, Linette was a woman who cherished life, and he was a man who often foolishly risked his own. He could think of no way to explain what he did. There wasn’t a chance in hell of making her understand, so he hadn’t tried. And wouldn’t, because every moment with her was too painfully precious to destroy.

  The snow fell relentlessly through the night. Cain woke to look out at a thick blanket of the powdery substance. He was in the kitchen drinking his first cup of coffee when Linette joined him the following morning.

  She was dressed in jeans and a thick cable-knit sweater. He’d never known a woman could look this naturally beautiful without makeup. Afraid she’d notice how he couldn’t keep his eyes off her, he poured her a cup of coffee. She smiled her appreciation when he handed it to her.

  “Did you sleep well?” he asked, hoping she had. For his own part, he’d tossed and turned most of the night, tormented by the knowledge that she was only four doors away.

  “Like a log.”

  “Good.” Toast popped up from the toaster, and he reached for it, then buttered the twin slices. “John will be by first thing this morning to go over some business matters with me.”

  “I’d like to meet Patty,” she said.

  “From what John said, she’s just as anxious to meet you.”

  No sooner had he spoken than there was a polite knock against the back door. John let himself inside, followed by his wife of ten years. Cain watched as Patty’s curious gaze moved past him to dwell on Linette. He might have been wrong, but it seemed Patty took one look at Linette and her eyes gleamed with approval.

  Cain introduced the couple, and Linette shook hands with them both.

  “Did you get a chance to read over those papers?” John asked. He was tall and rangy and wore his cowboy hat low on his head. Patty was short and slightly stocky, with shoulder-length blond hair and blue eyes. The two expertly managed his spread. When Cain had first purchased the place, he’d urged the Stamps to move into the main house. They’d declined, choosing instead to live in the smaller house reserved for the foreman. Cain maintained a small herd, but John had been urging him to build it up, claiming beef prices were better than they had been in a number of years. Cain was taking the advice under consideration.

  As he became involved in a lengthy conversation with John, he noted Linette and Patty talking as if they were longtime friends. Every now and again he caught a word or two of their conversation. From what he gathered, Linette was asking Patty about Christmas dinner. Apparently she planned on cooking it herself.

  Hard as he tried, Cain couldn’t keep his eyes away from Linette. Soon John, who was eager to prove his point, realized it was useless.

  “This is the first time you’ve ever brought a woman to visit,” he commented dryly. “Are you and Linette serious?”

  Startled, Cain snapped his attention away from his guest. “No,” he said abruptly, perhaps too abruptly, because the women stopped talking and looked at him expectantly.

  “We’re going out to cut down a Christmas tree this morning,” Cain said, breaking the strained silence.

  “Then we won’t hold you up. Come on, John,” Patty urged. “These people have more important things to do than talk about purchasing a few more head of cattle.”

  Cain walked the couple to the door and thanked Patty for having thoughtfully seen to their dinner the night before. He casually mentioned how good the roast had tasted.

  “Linette already thanked me,” she said, blushing with pleasure at his compliment. “I shouldn’t have traipsed down here first thing this morning,” Patty went on to say apologetically, “but I couldn’t help being curious about your lady friend.” Her gaze narrowed as she studied him. “She’s a good woman, Cain. I hope you’re considering settling down. It’s time for you to start thinking about a family.” With that she turned and walked away.

  It was time all right. Time to have his head examined, Cain decided. That he was foolish enough to live out a schoolboy’s dream was one matter, but having his foreman’s wife advise him to marry and start a family was enough to turn his blood cold.

  “You ready to go find a tree?” he asked gruffly after the couple had left.

  “Any time,” she assured him.

  By the time Cain located a hand saw and found a sled and rope, the sky had turned an angry shade of gray. “It looks like it’s going to start snowing again,” he said, wondering at the wisdom of their gallivanting through the woods.

  He did this sort of thing routinely, but he didn’t know how well Linette would hold up to the physical demands of hiking in the snow. He was about to suggest that perhaps this wasn’t such a great idea after all when he saw the disappointment flicker in her eyes.

  “It’ll be fine,” she insisted. “We’ll cut down a tree and be back before you know it.”

  “All right,” Cain relented, mainly because he didn’t have the heart to disappoint her. Whatever common sense he possessed had taken a flying leap toward insanity the minute he’d met this woman. Why stop now?

  Fortunately a copse of trees grew close by. Any one of those would serve nicely. They could walk there and back without much difficulty, he decided.

  “This one will do,” he said, coming upon the first tree the appropriate size. He reached for the hand saw when Linette stopped him.

  “It’s too short,” she insisted. “And one side isn’t as full as it should be.”

  “Too short? Not full enough?”

  “Yes! Besides that, you’ll be able to see that you cut down a tree from the house. It’ll spoil your view.”

  It would be a cold day in hell before one blasted fir tree would ruin his view. He wasn’t likely to notice the loss of a single six-footer when he owned a forest full.

  “All right,” he said with limitless patience, “you choose.”

  Apparently this was what she’d been waiting for him to suggest, because she dragge
d him halfway up a mountain and down another before she discovered the ideal Christmas tree. Frankly, Cain didn’t know there could be so much wrong with so many trees. He would have been perfectly happy with any one of a thousand she’d singularly dismissed for one ridiculous flaw or another.

  To think he’d been worried about her physical endurance. By the time she’d made her choice, he was both hungry and tired.

  “You’re sure about this one?” he asked. One thing was clear. If he ever spent another Christmas with Linette Collins, he was buying a tree in town. And he was purchasing it without taking her with him.

  “Positive,” she said, and her cheeks glowed pink and healthy.

  He hunkered down and sawed away at the trunk, grumbling under his breath. This was his reward. All his life he’d dreamed about cutting down his own Christmas tree. He’d never realized it would be this damned difficult.

  He stood when he’d finished and discovered Linette had vanished. “Linette,” he called, his heart pounding hard and fast. It would be just like the damn fool woman to wander off and get lost.

  “Linette,” he called a second time. Concerned, he scanned the area as the sense of dread filled him. He left the fallen tree and glanced toward the sky, sure they were about to encounter a blizzard.

  When he didn’t get an answer, he shouted louder, this time cupping his mouth in order for his voice to carry farther.

  “Cain.”

  Relieved, he whirled around. The snowball’s impact caught him square in the chest. For one moment he stood frozen in surprise. It didn’t take him long to recover. Before another second had passed, he’d scooped a ball of his own.

  “That wasn’t wise,” he said. She didn’t appear to believe him because he was bombarded with three other snowballs in quick succession. He was amazed by the accuracy of her throws.

  “Anyone who stands around and waits to be hit deserves what they get,” she called out. “Some soldier you turned out to be.”

  Cain was quick enough to duck behind a tree this time. The snowball slammed against the bark, spraying his face with snow. Cain laughed outright. This was what he got for trusting that little she-devil.

  It didn’t take him more than a few minutes to work his way through the woods and sneak up behind her. He watched her for several moments, peeking out from the tree, attempting to locate him. It never occurred to her that he could be less than ten feet behind her.

  “Linette.” He spoke her name softly and let the breeze carry it as though it had been whispered by the angels themselves.

  Linette stiffened, her attention keen.

  He said her name a second time.

  She swung around and blinked incredibly large eyes at him. “Cain? How’d you get there?” She made it sound as if they’d somehow become separated during a Sunday school picnic.

  He bounced a snowball from one gloved hand to the other. “You certainly had me fooled,” he said, smiling gleefully. “And all along I thought you a sweet and gentle soul.”

  “But I am.” Once more she fluttered her long lashes at him.

  “Who would have guessed a woman so beautiful would possess such a wide streak of malice?”

  “You shouldn’t have complained.”

  “Complained?” He lightly pitched the compacted snowball in the air, catching it with one hand.

  “About the Christmas tree,” she said. He noticed the way she was edging away from the tree and guessed she was planning to make a run for it.

  “I never said a word,” he countered.

  “Maybe not out loud, but you were mumbling a number of times, and what you didn’t mumble you were thinking.”

  He laughed, because she’d read him so accurately.

  She pitched one last snowball at him, then turned and ran like a jackrabbit, ricocheting from one tree to the next and yelling at the top of her lungs.

  The snowball missed him completely. He dropped the one he was holding and took out in a dead run after her. Her agility and speed amazed him, but she was no match for him. He reached her within seconds and grabbed her about the waist.

  Laughing, they both went down in the snow. She lay sprawled atop him, but he quickly reversed their positions, pinning her beneath him. Her eyes had never been more clear. They sparkled with laughter and life. Her chest heaved as she smiled up at him.

  “You deserve to have your face washed with snow,” he told her, holding her hands above her head. “And I’m just the man to do it.”

  “I’m so sorry,” she said in a totally unconvincing lie. “I don’t know what came over me. You were cutting down the tree and muttering when all at once this voice inside me said you needed to be brought down a peg or two.”

  With his free hand, Cain lifted a paw full of snow and held it above her face. “If you’re planning to talk me out of washing your face, you’d better come up with something more convincing than that.”

  Laughing, she squirmed beneath him in a useless effort to escape. “It’ll never happen again,” she promised, then made the mistake of snickering.

  “Until next time, you mean,” he told her sarcastically. She squirmed again, buckling under him. He sincerely doubted that she knew the effect her movements had on him. Even through several layers of clothes, he could feel her body rubbing against his. His reaction to her was strong and immediate.

  “Cain,” she pleaded.

  “You owe me,” he said, his eyes holding hers.

  Linette went still, her chest heaving, her eyes laughing. All at once the amusement drained out of her, and she gazed up at him and asked, “Wouldn’t a kiss do just as well?”

  5

  Louis St. Cyr wasn’t going home for Christmas. A visit on New Year’s didn’t appeal to him, either. Why should he rush to the loving arms of his family? In Bayamon, the small Caribbean island his father ruled, he was known as “Sonny” or “Junior.” He was tired of fitting into the background of his father’s ambitions. Tired of living his life to suit his family.

  In France he was his own man, and he didn’t need his mother’s pampering or his father’s tedious advice. He didn’t need the hassles that went along with being the son of a wealthy landowner turned politician.

  His mother had pleaded with him to reconsider, and his father, the great and mighty leader, had threatened to cut off his hefty allowance. But Daddy wouldn’t, and Louis knew it.

  After all, it was his father who’d insisted he attend the University of Paris at the Sorbonne, his own alma mater. And to think that in the beginning, Louis had balked. He’d wanted to attend Harvard University in the United States, but that was a battle in a long list of battles he’d lost. But no more.

  Moving away from his family was the best thing that had ever happened to Louis. He wasn’t giving his mother an excuse to drive him home just because she wanted him available for a silly Christmas party.

  One small taste of freedom and Louis discovered the elixir to be habit forming. Daddy could push all the buttons he wanted, but Louie boy wasn’t responding.

  Besides, he was in love. What red-blooded nineteen-year-old would turn down an invitation to spend two glorious weeks with a gorgeous blonde named Brigette? Not Louis.

  The nymph had planted herself in his life and in his bed, and he had no intention of allowing her out of either. He might even marry Brigette, he decided. That would make his father sit up and take notice, especially since they’d long since chosen his bride for him.

  Angelica was beautiful and the daughter of a longtime family friend, but Louis and Angelica had grown up together. Louis’s tastes were far more adventuresome these days. He couldn’t imagine Angelica doing the things in bed that Brigette had.

  Louis lay on his back and studied the ceiling tiles. A slow, satisfied smile came to his lips. Brigette was asleep at his side, her blond hair spilled over the thick feather pillow. One shapely leg was sprawled atop a thin sheet, and she breathed softly, her breath gently teasing his ear.

  All his life Louis had done what
his family requested. All his life he’d accepted that they knew what was best for him. Never again. He was his own man. How much of a man was something Brigette had taken great delight in proving to him.

  Until he’d met his French mistress, his sexual experience had been limited. Brigette had taught him well, and he was a fast learner. In all the years he’d dated Angelica, the only thing she’d allowed him to do beyond a few chaste kisses was to taste her breasts. Then she’d acted as if she had done him a favor for which he should be eternally grateful.

  Content, Louis reached for Brigette’s lush breast, filling his palm with its fullness. His thumb grazed the nipple, which pearled to a hard peak. She sighed softly and nestled closer, her pale skin a marked contrast to his own honey color.

  A sound from the room below distracted him. Louis paused, wondering if the alley cat Brigette fed had somehow gotten into the house. He was about to investigate when his lover wrapped her long, slender leg around his and edged closer to his side. She nibbled his earlobe, stroking the fires of his newly awakened manhood. He was about to turn her on her backside and bury himself in her silken heat when the door flew open.

  Sound exploded through the peaceful silence.

  Louis’s heart nearly burst as two men dressed entirely in black burst into the room. Their faces were covered with camouflage paint. Twin submachine guns were aimed at him and Brigette.

  Terror froze Louis’s throat muscles as he struggled upright. Brigette grabbed a sheet and held it against her bare breasts and screamed. Her cry was silenced by a popping sound. Blood soaked through the sheet as the woman he loved toppled forward. Louis choked back a strangled cry of grief and horror.

  Before he could react, or reach out to the beautiful French woman, he was dragged naked from the bed. Fighting as best he could, he kicked and shoved. Pain exploded against the side of his jaw as he was hit with the butt of the machine gun. Blood filled his mouth, and he gagged and spat out a broken tooth. The two men worked silently, binding his hands behind his back.

  “What do you want?” he pleaded, first in French and then in English and German.