Steal Me Away: A Mountain Man Romance

by Ilsa Ames

  I walked toward the house, strangely calm now. For weeks I’d been subconsciously holding my hands in front of my body, walking in such a way as to try and hide the truth. No longer, though. I walked, head held high, tummy exposed. It was nothing to be ashamed of, and I refused to feel that way.

  There was a light on in dad’s study. I pushed open the front door, and there was my bodyguard. He refused to look me in the eye, but I thought I caught a sense of sorrow and shame on his normally implacable features.

  “Your father has requested your company, Lia,” the man rumbled. “Best to go to him. You know how he can be.”

  I didn’t respond, just turned and headed in the direction of dad’s office. I walked slowly, like it was fate. Nothing for it now. Best to just get it all out there.

  I reached the closed door of the office and took a deep breath. I didn’t knock, just pushed the door open and walked in.

  Dad was sitting at his desk, whisky bottle open next to an empty glass. He looked up as I entered, silently, and poured himself another drink.

  “Take a seat,” he said, gesturing towards the empty chair on the other side of his desk.

  I shook my head.

  “I’ll stand, thanks.”

  He shrugged.

  “Suit yourself. I’d offer you a drink, but…”

  He glanced at my swollen, pregnant belly.

  I stood in silence, but not in fear. I met his eyes with my own, not backing down, not cowed, not shrinking away from him.

  He took a deep, ragged breath, and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked old and tired and haggard.

  “I gave you everything you ever wanted,” he whispered. “Everything. I raised you right, and it wasn’t easy. Especially after your mother was gone…” He slammed back half of his glass.

  “When that... animal took you, I feared the worst. I thought I’d lost you forever. I sacrificed a lot to get you back, more than you can know.”

  I crossed my arms.

  “You didn’t sacrifice anything,” I said. “You just agreed to fix the mess you made. That’s not sacrifice, that’s justice.”

  He didn’t look up, and it didn’t even seem like he’d heard what I’d said.

  “What happened to my sweet, innocent little girl?” he went on. “What happened to turn you from that into... this?”

  He stood and drained his glass in one gulp. I could see that he was a little unsteady on his feet, a little glassy around the eyes. I needed to be careful.

  “But it’s not too late,” he said. “We can fix this. I can fix this. We’ll just take you to the clinic in town, and this can all go away. The doctors there are the best in the state; you’ll have the best care-”

  Bile rose in my throat as I realized what he was saying. He wanted me to get rid of my baby.

  My eyes narrowed into slits at him.

  “Never!” I spat. “You stay the fuck away from me!”

  I stumbled away from him, feeling fear for the first time. He was drunk and unstable, and I didn’t know what he was capable of.

  “Lia, honey, don’t be like this.”

  His voice was still quiet, but his words had a razor-sharp edge to them now.

  “Let me fix this, and then we can start fresh. This family can start over and forget all this ever happened. Go back to how things used to be.”

  I shook my head in horror.

  “No,” I whispered. “Never. I can’t even believe you’d say something like this dad. You’re sick!”

  At that, he snapped. His face reddened and the veins in his neck bulged.

  “Sick?!” he roared. “Me? I’m not the one who got knocked up by that fucking inbred mountain man! I’m not the one who has betrayed this family and dragged our name through the mud! You will get rid of that fucking baby and forget any of this ever happened, you fucking hear me? Do you?!”

  He was advancing towards me now, fingers flexing, brimming with rage. I’d never seen anything like it, and it scared me to death.

  “Stay away from me!” I screamed. “Don’t touch me!”

  I turned and opened the door, running away down the corridor with my heart thumping in my chest, tears of shame and horror running down my face. The bodyguard was still standing by the door.

  “You should go up to your room,” he said gently. “I’ll delay your dad, and you’ll be safe up there, I promise.”

  I nodded gratefully and did as he said. I ran up the stairs and went into my room, closing the door behind me and hoped the bodyguard was as good as his word. I sat by the wall, hunched over, facing the door with my hands covering my belly.

  Downstairs I could hear an almighty commotion as my father shouted and raged. I couldn’t make out the words, but I didn’t need to. His anger was palpable, and it frightened me to death.

  After a little while things quietened down. The bodyguard had obviously managed to talk him down. The tension released from my body in a rush, and I sobbed, my body wracked with anguish. It was at that moment that I knew things could never go back to how they once were. My father was lost to me, the man I once thought he was gone forever, never to return.

  I looked up as I heard footsteps outside in the hallway. I braced myself as I heard them approach my door, looking around for something I could use as a weapon if it came to that.

  Nobody opened the door though. Instead, there was a click as it was locked from the outside.

  I was trapped, and truly a prisoner once more.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Logan

  I awoke the morning after my collapse feeling a little off, and it took me longer than usual to get myself together before heading out of the house to start it all over again.

  Before taking off, I stared at myself in the mirror, almost not recognizing the man who was staring back at me. A long, unkempt beard had sprouted almost unnoticed on my face. I frowned at the few grey hairs poking through the thick blond hair on my face.

  I’d lost weight as well, muscle falling off from disuse, tiredness, and stress. My once well-fitting clothes were loose and hung from my slimmer frame. My eyes were red-rimmed with large bags hanging underneath. I was exhausted.

  In short, I looked like shit.

  I was using up my strength, and it was quite obvious I’d been overdoing it for some time. Too long, even.

  But I wasn't giving up yet. I had work to do.

  I spent much of the day driving, which was the same as pretty much every other day. I’d considered staying in town for a few nights, just to stop this monotonous drive, but I was reluctant to leave my mountain cabin. It was the cabin that was keeping me sane, giving me that little bit of downtime each evening, even if it was just to collapse exhausted onto the bed.

  …It was the cabin that kept me connected to Lia.

  My plan for the day was to check on some of the townsfolk who were well enough to be sent home from hospital, but not quite well enough to get out of the house on their own. Some of them had family that could help, but a couple of the older folk were pretty much on their own, or their partner was too sick or old to help them out in any meaningful way.

  Preston, through his lawyer who I was liaising with, and spoke to on a regular basis, had reluctantly agreed to provide for part time help to visit those most in need. But I couldn’t just leave them for the rest of the time. I made sure they were recovering, had everything they needed and most of all, sometimes just spent some time keeping them company, for as long as I could.

  There had recently been an old couple who I’d known from childhood—Marsha and Richard Arnalds. They had been kindly neighbors whose son, Ben, had died in the army, and the rest of their family had all long since moved away. I’d known Ben from school when we were young.

  Marsha and Richard had always had time for me and other kids who came from shittier homes though. I’d never forgotten how they’d stop by my house, even if my parents were who the hell knows where, to ask with genuine concern how things were, or dropping presents and foo
d off for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I had fond memories of spending time at the Arnalds’ place, when I was invited over for dinner and treated to a hearty, home-cooked meal by Marsha, who’d always insist I have seconds or thirds.

  I had joked with her recently that she was one of the reasons I’d grown so big even as a kid. She had then promised me that when I was less stressed and overworked, she was going to cook me and “my girlfriend”—I didn’t tell her about Lia, but she insisted I find myself time for a girlfriend—one of her famous dinners when she was fully recovered.

  But recently, I’d arrived one day to find them both her and Richard unconscious and had rushed them to the hospital. The hired help had left only hours earlier, but they had fallen very sick not long after.

  The couple were recovering well now, and were back at home, and I made sure to check on them regularly. But the whole episode had reaffirmed to me how important it was that I keep up what I was doing, to make sure everyone was getting the time and treatment they needed.

  And so, I pushed myself even more, finding more time to help those that needed it. But it was taking its toll, and I was getting more exhausted every day.

  After the day had finished, I sat in my truck, staring at the cabin I’d built with my own hands, thoughts floating through my mind randomly through the exhaustion I felt. The windows were dark, the place looked cold and lifeless.

  Then I imagined that there was a warm glow in the living room window, that there was someone waiting for me to return home.

  Lia, of course.

  In my fantasy, a fire burning gently in the fireplace, the smell of food drifting out to meet me as I walked towards my sanctuary. And her waiting for me, who I could talk to about my day, to help me with the burden I was carrying alone on my shoulders.

  The daydream faded, and I walked slowly towards the cold, dark cabin. I sighed with loneliness and exhaustion, wondering how much longer I could keep going like this.

  It’s worth it. Keep staying strong. You can do this.

  I had almost managed to shut Lia out of my mind and had naïvely thought I had pushed the memories of her to somewhere where I wouldn’t be affected by them until I chose to remember. But with exhaustion came a deliriousness, and I found myself thinking about her more every day.

  Recently my thoughts had been consumed by her, and I’d sometimes wake in a panic because she wasn’t there next to me, only for reality to sink back in like a poison.

  I couldn’t live like this anymore.

  I had to speak to her, to check how she was. I couldn’t keep pushing her from my mind. It had only made things worse so far, anyway. The more I tried to forget, the more I remembered.

  After lighting a small fire and trying to make the cabin a little more homey, I headed to my computer, at first intending to check progress reports from various parties involved in the cleanup, but I found myself staring at the recent unread emails from Lia.

  I had opened and read most of them but had stopped a few days ago when I’d almost broken down at the words she’d written to me. In my weakened, exhausted state it was almost too much to bear, but I knew I had to face this. I couldn’t ignore her forever.

  What if she was in trouble? What if she was asking for help, or needed something from me? I had to know. I had a feeling in my gut that it was important, and so I clicked on the most recent email, taking a deep breath before reading the words she’d sent me carefully.

  My heart sank at her words at first; “there’s something I’ve been keeping from you,” my mind thinking of the worst. That she had a boyfriend all along, that she had been caught up in the moment and had finally realized her feelings for me had been false.

  My eyes reluctantly moved on to the next words on the page, wondering what she was going to tell me.

  “I’m pregnant. The baby is yours. I want us to raise it together.”

  Holy. Shit.

  I choked, shock exploding through me as my head reeled at the words.

  Lia was pregnant?

  But then, all of a sudden, it was like I was overcome with joy. I hadn’t lost her. Or maybe I had, but here was how I was going to get her back.

  Her, and our baby.

  Emotion blazed through me like fire, the purest joy I’d ever felt searing through me. I rose—shock, excitement, and adrenaline all coursing through me as I whirled, grinning like a maniac at what I’d just learned.

  I’m going to be a father.

  I didn’t know what to do, but I knew one thing for damn sure: I had to see her. I had to see Lia, and to hold her, and to tell her everything was going to be just fine. That I was going to take care of her.

  But she hadn’t asked me to go see her. Maybe she was worried her dad might put a stop to the financial help he was providing. Or hell, have me arrested. Maybe she was staying strong, too. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts.

  I sat down on the couch to catch my breath. My chest was suddenly tight, and I’d put that down to emotion and shock at first, but something was wrong. I felt a burning pain in the middle left of my chest. A shooting, tingling sensation ran down my left arm, and my fingers of my left hand felt numb.

  Shit. This isn’t right. Deep breaths. Deep fucking breaths.

  I tried to calm myself, but the sensation wouldn’t go away. I struggled for a moment, trying to think through the cloud of pain, exhaustion, and emotion. I needed to do something.

  I need help.

  I’d spent so long focusing on helping others that I had neglected to help myself. I’d known, deep down, that I was burning myself out. This was coming, and I’d walked right into it.

  With a last surge of strength, I rose to my feet, almost collapsing as I staggered over towards the telephone. I steadied myself with a shaking hand on the wall as I lifted the receiver.

  I called 911 without thinking, asking for an ambulance. My voice was shaky as I described my symptoms, and the comforting, female voice responded with concern as she asked what I was feeling.

  Something froze in me as she told me I was probably having a mild heart attack, but not to panic. An ambulance was on its way. She told me to take aspirin if I had some, and to breathe deeply and regularly, coughing the air out as I did so. She told me to stay on the phone, to focus on my breathing and to try and stay awake.

  …But everything was fading by the second.

  I started to not hear her words, or feel my body. My mind became fuzzy and confused after a while, and I lost all sense of time. That voice was still there, but I was struggling to understand the words I was hearing.

  A cloud descended, and it was all I could do to stay upright. My legs were shaking uncontrollably, and I started to see stars in front of my eyes, and flashes of lights from my peripheral vision.

  Oh fuck.

  I had no strength left. No strength to think, no strength even to stand upright. I wavered a little, staggering a few steps before collapsing to the floor. I was conscious for a little while, confused thoughts brushing the edges of my consciousness.

  I thought I heard Lia calling me from the bedroom and struggled to rise before remembering I had no strength left. I closed my eyes, wanting so desperately to sleep, but I clung to the memory of Lia’s imagined voice, using it as my final anchor on reality.

  An unknown time later I heard the sound of distant sirens echoing around the mountainside. I wondered if I was imagining them or if they were real.

  The siren slowly increased in volume, until I heard the screech of tires and scrape of rough gravel from the driveway outside of the cabin.

  The door swung open and two figures entered in a hurry, and through blurred vision I saw a light shine into my eyes.

  I tried to speak, but then blackness overcame me.

  Blackness and emptiness, pulling me away from Lia.

  Pulling me away from our child.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lia

  The hours slipped into days, and then into weeks, and still I remained trapped inside my
rooms. Food was delivered to me three times a day, brought in by a maid with the ever-present bodyguard looming in the background, presumably to make sure that I didn’t make some sort of mad dash for freedom.

  The very idea of it was laughable. I was getting bigger and bigger and didn’t think I could sprint a hundred yards without collapsing in a sweaty heap. My only saving grace was my many years of yoga practice. It gave me something to do in the long interminable days spent staring out of the window, and it kept me in some semblance of shape.

  At some point in the first few days of my incarceration, somebody had crept into my rooms while I slept and removed every single communications device. My laptop and my cellphone were missing when I woke. I was truly isolated and cut off from everything in the outside world, and it felt bizarre. After years spent obsessively checking my phone for notifications and likes, I now couldn’t even make a call.

  My only human interaction was with the maid and the bodyguard, and they’d obviously been told not to say anything to me outside what was strictly necessary to perform their duties. I sometimes caught a sympathetic glance from one or the other of them, but I couldn’t blame them for obeying my father. They probably had families to support, and everyone knew that Preston Cagliari was not to be disobeyed. Hell, look what he’d done to his own goddamn daughter, locked up like a zoo animal.

  Surely Logan would notice that my emails and messages had stopped. Especially since I’d told him about our baby—I knew he’d read the email. Surely, he would come and rescue me. Wouldn’t the majority of the cleanup operation be done with by now? It would be worth the risk of angering my father so that he could see me and our baby, wouldn’t it?

  But I knew in my heart of hearts that I couldn’t rely on that. If there was one thing I knew about Logan it was that he was a man of his word. He’d worked tirelessly for years to make things right with the forest and his neighbors, and there was every possibility that he wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that, even if it meant giving up access to me and his child.