Jim went to fetch the coats while Ginny followed Mrs. Robertson into the kitchen and helped her put together a care package. “This should hold you until dinner.”
“Thank you!” Ginny was especially grateful for the swift efficiency. So far, not one of the Matrons had wasted a minute and it had left a good impression in her mind.
They drove through Halifax and out onto NS-101 W, headed for the Bay of Fundy, Ginny in the rented sedan, Jim following in the SUV. When the sedan had been safely returned and the bill settled, they climbed into the SUV and headed back to Halifax.
“Are you all right?” Jim asked.
She looked at him. “Are you a mind reader?”
He laughed. “No. I was imagining what your trip from Digby to Halifax must have been like and assumed you were thinking the same.”
She nodded. “It’s much pleasanter knowing he’s safe, and with you doing the driving. The whole of Nova Scotia has turned out to be either a hill or a bridge and, because of the snow, the road surface has been slick every foot of the way.”
He smiled. “The price for my chauffeur services is to feed me while I drive. What have you got in that basket?”
Ginny handed him an assortment of finger foods, bottles of water, and napkins, while helping herself to something that smelled like tuna fish but tasted better.
“You haven’t told me what happened to you in Albany.”
He looked over at her and wrinkled his nose. “I didn’t have nearly as much fun as you and Charlie did.” He described the explosion and the video interview with Detective Tran. Ginny felt her throat tighten.
“You were hurt?”
He shrugged. “Not much and not enough to keep me from coming after you. I spent the rest of that day and all of the next trying to catch up, and everything that could go wrong, did.”
He described his frustration with that drive in vivid detail, emphasizing his efforts to take shortcuts and the inevitable delays caused by them. Ginny ended up laughing so hard her side hurt.
“Oh dear! I wish I’d known.”
He reached over and took her hand. “What would you have done, if you had?”
“Turned my phone on.”
“In defiance of the Laird’s instructions?”
“Sometimes you have to bend the rules.”
“I wish I’d known you were coming over on the ferry. I would have been there to meet you.”
Ginny sighed. “I wish you had. That was a horrible twenty-four hours.”
Jim nodded soberly, then smiled. “Will you be offended if I tell you I’m really impressed with your deductive reasoning? All that stuff you figured out for tracking Charlie!”
Ginny dimpled. “Not at all. People often tell me how alluring my cognitive deliberations are.”
He burst out laughing. “Eejit!”
“Not.”
“I know!” He smiled over at her. “I know.”
* * *
Saturday Evening
Halifax Homestead
The fire crackled cheerfully, just the right size, and a comforting counterpoint to the cold outside. The Halifax Homestead did not make the mistake of overheating its public rooms so Jim was pleasantly aware of the contrast.
The lamps, too, were comforting, casting gold light rather than blue, a throwback to the incandescent bulbs that had been replaced by the cold clarity of light emitting diodes. He gazed into the fire, his feet up on the coffee table. He was wearing borrowed slippers and had been promised the furniture was in no danger. He wasn’t so sure about himself.
With Detective Tran’s departure, the whole Homestead seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, but as the tension eased, reaction set in.
He and Ginny had spent the afternoon photographing tombstones and it had made him uneasy. He wasn’t old enough to feel creeping mortality in any personal way, but he couldn’t escape the awareness that his time was limited.
He pulled Ginny closer. She was curled up beside him, snuggling into his side, her eyelids drooping.
What would happen when they got back to Dallas? Would they part, go their separate ways? She had tried to cast him off and he had known in a heartbeat there was no going back for him. But what of her?
Tomorrow was planned. They would say goodbye to Charlie and the Halifax staff, hand over the hostess gift, get in the SUV, and drive to the ferry. Once across the Bay of Fundy, they would retrieve the hatchback, park it in the lot of the hotel they’d booked for Sunday night, and hand the keys to the concierge, with instructions to give them to the courier who would drive it to Albany for them.
On their way back, they would retrace their steps, staying at each of the Homesteads and sharing vacation gossip with the inmates. They would both have to be careful, especially with Dr. Gordon. The success of their mission now depended on everyone believing that Charlie had actually drowned.
Jim was under additional orders to spend time with the lairds at each of the Homesteads, picking their brains and getting to know them. He didn’t know what his grandfather had said to Ginny. Neither had told him.
He bent down and brushed her hair with his lips. She didn’t move. She was asleep, asleep in his arms, and all Jim wanted in the whole wide world was for time to stand still and let him hold this moment, and her, forever.
* * *
Chapter 56
Sunday Afternoon
The Bay of Fundy
It was Sunday afternoon and the light was already fading as the two of them boarded the ferry. There was another front moving in, tossing the spray into the slanted columns of light, making tiny rainbows that vanished with the wind.
Ginny led the way to the lower deck, retrieved Charlie’s pack from its locker, hauled it onto her shoulder, and tried to pretend it didn’t hold a dead man’s ghost. They would mail his possessions to Mrs. Robertson when they got ashore. That would sever the last of her ties to Charlie.
Unlike her earlier crossing, this time there was no fog and Ginny could see the Nova Scotian shoreline as it slid away. The rising tide surged toward the vessel in increasingly cobalt waves frosted with whitecaps and the taste of salt. No whales, though.
Jim had never been on a ferry this size. He’d watched the cars being stowed, then made his way to the rail, taking in the sights, his face betraying nothing of his thoughts.
When the twilight settled over them and the vistas retreated into darkness, he took Ginny inside. They found a lounge with a movie screen she hadn’t noticed last time and settled down in the shadows at the back of the room.
Ginny had one leg tucked up under her, turned half-sideways to Jim. She studied him surreptitiously.
He looked over at her. “You’re thinking something.”
“I was just admiring your profile.”
She saw him smile. She admired his shoulders, too, and his thighs, and other parts of his anatomy.
“And you have a lovely smile. Infectious. I like the way your eyes crinkle at the corners.”
“Thank you.”
Her eyes wandered to his hands. Good hands for a physician, sensitive, gentle, strong. Like his arms.
His arms. She found herself breathing hard. His arms around her, holding her, protecting her. She could have his arms for all eternity, for a price.
She looked up, seeing again the size, and the strength, and the controlled power of him. She’d been afraid of him, afraid of losing control to him. If she married him, she would have to hand herself over to him, body, mind, and soul. A friend, a lover, a husband. Someone to share her life with, someone willing to share his life with her, and all she had to do, to have him, was to trust him.
“Talk to me, Ginny.”
In an intimate relationship, she knew, the man had all the advantages: size, strength, biologic imperative. What would happen if she struggled?
“What’s going on?”
Her lips parted and she felt her cheeks grow hot. She saw his eyes widen. He said nothing, though, just slipped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her
close, then turned his attention to the video screen. But he, too, was breathing fast.
Hal had had charm and charisma and a silky smooth way of getting what he wanted. Jim was more direct, used to giving orders and being obeyed.
What were their chances? Could they make it work? And did she want that? Because, if she did, now was the time to tell him.
“We’re here.” They joined the other passengers headed for the exit.
Ginny shivered as the cold air hit her, then led the way down the gangplank and onto the landing. They had to wait while the cars were unloaded, but eventually they were in the SUV, with the heater on.
Ginny looked around, trying to get her bearings in the glow from the street lamps. Luckily she had a good ‘bump of direction’. She managed to guide him to the car park with only a small course correction.
“I hope no one has booted it,” she said. “I didn’t plan on being gone this long.”
They were in luck, though. She had paid the charges using her alter ego’s credit card and the machine had simply charged her for the additional two days. She dug out the keys, then climbed behind the wheel, with Charlie’s ghost sitting beside her.
“Women have all the power in a relationship.”
Maybe so, but was it power she really wanted?
* * *
Sunday Night
Saint John, NB
They found the hotel without difficulty, cleaned out the hatchback, checked in, settled arrangements with the concierge, then retired to their room. The conventioneers had taken over the town for the week and the only thing left was the bridal suite. Jim seemed to find the arrangements amusing.
“You didn’t want your own room? We could have gone somewhere else.”
“Do I need a locked door between us?”
He dropped his bag on the sofa and came over, capturing her, and pulling her into a hug.
“No. You do not.” He caught her eye and held it, his face and tone suddenly serious. “I promise you, Ginny, you will never need to put a locked door between us. Not now, not ever.”
Ever. As in happily ever after. Ginny had her hands on his chest, one of them over his heart. She could feel the pulse through his shirt, could feel the way his muscles moved as he breathed. Flesh and bone and sinew. A living man. Male.
The chasm opened before her.
She broke out of his embrace, backed off two steps, then stopped and stood facing him, rubbing her hands on her pants. “My palms are sweating.”
They had left their chaperone behind them, in Halifax. Nor was this one of the Homesteads, with rules and a laird to enforce them. She was alone in a foreign country with a strong, attractive, determined man.
He grew very still, his eyes on her, his face reflecting comprehension. “You’re safe, Ginny. You will always be safe, with me. I swear it.” He took a step toward her and she backed off again. He stopped, eyeing her. “Do you need to talk?”
She nodded.
“Okay.”
She watched as he pulled the bottle of Scotch out of his bag and poured the whisky into two glasses. He handed one to her, then sat down in the chair by the window. She dropped into the desk chair, lifted the glass to her lips, and took a sip.
He was leaning forward, his arms resting on his thighs, his eyes resting on hers. “What do you want to talk about?”
She licked her lips, her eyes dropping to the drink in her hands. “Marriage.”
She glanced up, to see how he took that and found him trying to suppress a smile.
“Marriage in general?” He was teasing her.
“Our marriage.” There, she’d said it.
He was smiling openly now, his eyes on her, radiating warmth.
“Go on.”
“I’m trouble, Jim. You need to know that. I’m too stubborn and too independent to follow your instructions blindly. You’ll have to explain them to me.”
“There might not be time.”
Ginny nodded. “I know, but I can’t abdicate responsibility for my own actions to you or anyone else.” She shook her head. “I’ll probably make you mad again.”
His smile expanded. “I promise not to beat you.”
She frowned. “You’re not taking this seriously!”
He laughed out loud then took a deep breath. “Actually, I am. I’m just so happy I can’t help grinning.”
“Marriage is a serious business!”
He nodded. “Yes, it is, darling, but it should be the kind of business filled with joy and laughter and fun.”
Ginny smiled in spite of herself. “That’s foolish. Life isn’t like that.”
“If I’m a fool to want to be happily married, then so be it.” He took a deep breath. “I have a caveat for you, too. You need to know that, if you marry me, I’m going to take care of you, to the best of my ability. You may find that intrusive at times, but it’s part of the package. I want no secrets between us.”
“Not even little white lies?”
“Like does this kilt make my butt look big?”
Ginny laughed. “I was thinking more along the lines of birthday presents.”
“Those I will allow.” He took a sip of his drink, then set it down, his smile fading. “And, on the same subject, I owe you a confession.”
Ginny waited for him to continue.
“There was a party and too much alcohol. I passed out cold in a girl’s bedroom. I don’t even remember being arrested. I came to in a jail cell.” He frowned. “She accused me of rape and I didn’t know, for a while, whether I was guilty or not. My father put up the bail and enlisted the help of the Laird, who was a lawyer. He expedited the rape kit and it proved I didn’t do it. But the incident remains on my record.” He sighed heavily. “I learned my lesson. I haven’t been drunk since. That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about.”
He lifted his chin and fixed her with a steady, unblinking gaze. “And here’s another. I promise you, Ginny, I will never force myself on you, never desert you, never cheat on you, never abuse or neglect you. And I'm going to listen to you."
He took a breath. “I’ve done some growing up on this trip. I know it’s just a start, but I’m not going to underestimate you again.”
Their eyes met and Ginny nodded.
“What else do you want to know?” he asked.
Ginny sucked in a breath. “Why did Sarah turn you down?”
The corner of his mouth curved into a rueful half smile. “She didn’t want to move to Texas. She would have had to leave her family behind.”
“You would have been her family.”
He screwed up his face. “Well. Sort of. I suppose.”
Ginny looked at him. “Sort of?” She saw him squirm.
“I think she was holding out for marriage.”
Both of Ginny’s eyebrows rose. “You asked her to come to Texas without proposing marriage to her?”
He nodded. “I had commitment issues.”
She almost laughed out loud. “No wonder she refused!”
He nodded, then sighed. “I wasn’t in love with her, not that way, and I knew it. I thought maybe I could grow into it, but she cut me loose instead.”
He took a sip of his drink then set it aside. “I have a question for you, too. Did you love Hal?”
Ginny examined her soul. “There were things about him that I loved. He had such a light-hearted outlook on life, and he wasn’t afraid of my brain.”
“But did you love him?”
She met Jim’s eyes. “No.”
He nodded. “Okay.” She saw him lick his lips, then swallow. “Do you love me?”
Ginny took a long moment to consider her answer, thinking about all that had been said, all that had happened since the night Hal had introduced them, then nodded, a smile creeping across her face. “Yes.”
“Are you sure?” He was studying her intently and she felt herself blush.
“Pretty sure.”
His brow furrowed. “Mrs. Gordon asked me something I couldn’t answe
r so I need to ask you.” He met her eyes. “What do you want to do with your life, Ginny?”
She pulled in a deep breath, then faced the issue squarely.
“I want to be absolutely essential to your health and happiness.” She saw him smile, and hurried on. “I want to help you with whatever it is you decide you want to do. To be your good right arm, the person you turn to when you need to work something out, the shoulder you can cry on, the friend you know will always be there for you.”
His smile widened. “I want that, too, for both of us.”
Ginny felt a rush of relief and affection. A good man. She had found a good man.
“If I end up as Laird,” he said, “and you are my wife, you will be the Matron.”
She nodded.
He smiled at her. “You have such a talent for organizing. I’m sure you could run a Homestead exceptionally well.”
It was Ginny’s turn to squirm. “Yes, well. That’s another thing we need to talk about. We didn’t know who would succeed Himself. He had no family in Texas, no one to train, and I had no father.”
She watched as Jim processed the idea, his smile fading.
“If I hadn’t shown up, who would have been Laird after my grandfather?”
“I would, probably.”
His eyes grew wide. “I thought it had to be a man.”
Ginny shook her head. “Some of the Homesteads are run by women.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t a sure thing. The clan might not have accepted me. They get to vote on things like that.”
“But you were being groomed for the position.”
She nodded. Ginny watched as his eyebrows rose.
“Grandfather told me you could be useful, but I had no idea he meant this.”
“What he meant was that, at least for the present, I know more than you do about how to run a Homestead. Can you handle that?”
He looked at her for a long moment, then nodded slowly. “I think I already knew.” His brow furrowed suddenly. “Did he talk to you about it, before he called me?”
Ginny shook her head. “He didn’t ask anyone, not even the council.” She saw concern spread across Jim’s face.
“How do you feel about that, Ginny, being supplanted by an outsider?”
Viking Vengeance Page 35
