by Ann Major
She rose to her feet and let Nickie lead her down. Paolo grunted and stumbled along behind them. He was gaining on them as the path narrowed and became wet with condensation. When she looked down, faintness threatened to overcome her again.
If she fell, she would hit the jutting ledge beneath. The terrible water was a dark glimmer, and still a long way beneath her.
She caught the thick smell of her pursuer. Paolo was so close he could almost reach out and touch her.
Suddenly Victor squalled and Paolo screamed. Had the villain stepped on Victor and missed his footing?
As Paolo pitched over the ledge, he lunged toward her and hooked his arm around her throat. Screaming, she slipped and fell with him.
His body struck the ledge beneath, miraculously shielding hers from the blow. But when she tried to free herself, his hard hand held onto her neck crushingly as he rolled off the ledge toward the water. When they hit, his heavy body pulled her down, down into the clear depths.
His fingers tightened around her throat, squeezing, until stars streamed like sparks behind her eyelids. Sinking deeper, their bodies fell, twisting weightlessly in a macabre dance of death. She was in a nightmare, her lungs bursting as she sank deeper into that dark, wet tunnel.
Memories bombarded her again, only this time they were of Nicholas. She was in his arms as he shielded her from the fury of the storm at sea. He was making love to her in their hidden grotto on a bed of wet sand. Then she saw his face as she'd last seen it—hard with the bitter knowledge of her fresh betrayal.
Nicholas—she wanted him so desperately, but the images were fading like the flickering shadows on a movie screen when the light comes on. Only there was no light now. There was only endless darkness because she was holding her breath.
*
Where was she? What was happening to her? Nicholas was on the ground, his own blood filling his eyes as he slammed fist after fist into Otto.
Then Nickie came running out of the cave into his mother's arms, and Nicholas heard Eva's screams. Was she in the cave, dying? Was he helpless to save her?
The two men rolled over and over until they were grappling on the edge of the cliff. Beneath them the rock wall dropped away to the stone beach hundreds of feet beneath them, and still they fought.
The maniacal death struggle seemed to go on and on. Then Nicholas twisted violently and Otto was underneath him, his silver head dangling over the face of the cliff. Straddling him, Nicholas's large hands closed around Otto's neck squeezed until the feral eyes bulged and went blank.
Teresa ran up to them with Nickie and called softly.
"Don't. Please, don't kill him."
"For Eva," Nicholas growled, his mind crazed, beyond reason so fierce was his desire for revenge.
"Let him live—for Eva," Teresa pleaded, her hand tugging at his shoulders.
Nicholas's hands loosened ever so slightly around the thick neck. Instead of Otto, he saw his men in Africa, their red blood staining the sand. The stench of death was all around him. One of those men had been Teresa's husband. Nicholas remembered his own nauseating terror that he would be next when he'd lain in the dirt, unable to move, and Paolo had swaggered toward him with his bayonet drawn.
Otto had to die.
"Killing is his way, not yours." It was Marcos's voice this time.
Nicholas hesitated. He stared at Otto, his heart raging with the savage need to do violence.
"He had Eva killed!" Nicholas muttered hoarsely.
"Maybe she's still alive," Teresa said. "It’s no good to live for revenge."
"How can you say that? Your husband died because of this man."
"That's how I know. Don’t…please…don’t."
Her beautiful face was grim with determination. Still, for a long moment he remained frozen on top of Otto.
When he finally loosened his grip around Otto's throat, Marcos leaned down with a coil of rope and bound Otto's wrists together. Then his feet.
As if in a trance, Nicholas watched Otto gasp for air. For years Nicholas had lived with one purpose—to destroy von Schonburg. And he’d let him live even though the woman he loved might be dead due to Otto and his own fierce desire for revenge.
The woman he loved...
He remembered how she'd looked down at him when she'd rushed to greet him this afternoon—her face glowing in the sunlight. The rays coming through the entrance of the cave had turned her hair to flame. She had never looked more beautiful. And what had he done? With cruel words, he’d crushed her. He thought of her courage, how she'd taken Nickie and made a run for it. He would never forget her last terrorized scream when the bastards had shot her.
Killing Otto didn't matter. His death could change nothing.
Only Eva. Eva. With her tenderness and kindness and passion she’d shown him that there was still some part of him that believed in the beauty of life. She’d made mistakes in their relationship, but so had he. If only she were alive, he would forgive her everything. She’d tried so hard to teach him what it meant to love completely, without qualification.
He had treated her so brutally.
If she was dead, it was his fault. Not Otto's.
Nicholas knew he would never forgive himself.
If she was alive he would spend a lifetime making it up to her.
"Call the police," Nicholas said roughly.
Then he was racing, despite his bad leg, toward the cave.
*
Even though she felt the warmth of the sun on her skin, Eva was cold, so cold, and her right arm burned with excruciating pain. Most of all she was aware of the raspy beauty of Nicholas's low voice as he hovered over her.
Through her lashes she could see Nicholas, his handsome face bloodstained and grim. She was afraid to open her eyes, afraid she’d see the coldness and the darkness in his heart.
But she opened them anyway because she wanted to look at him one last time.
When she lifted her head, her shoulder burned. Even though she gritted her teeth and gasped, she couldn't quite suppress a moan.
Nicholas was staring at her when her lashes fluttered. Instead of dislike, she was warmed by the blazing emotions in his gaze. He loved her, and he forgave her. And he begged her to forgive him, too.
She moved her lips to comfort him, but no sound came out.
"Don't try to talk," he whispered.
He was smiling, and it was Raoul's smile. "I thought I had lost you and that I would never be able to tell you how much I loved you." He touched her wet hair that was tangled with grit from the beach. "Forgive me," he whispered. "Forgive me."
To her surprise, she saw that there were tears in his eyes. She blinked, surprised that for once she wasn’t crying.
The helicopter was landing on the beach. Nicholas knelt over her to protect her from the flying dust and pebbles. He was cradling her head in his hands and gently kissing her brow.
Afraid to believe he cared, she closed her eyes.
“Forgive me,” he begged again.
Did he mean it? Was he hers at last? Did they have a future with no more ghosts to haunt them from the past? Would there be no more goodbyes?
Nothing mattered more than the hope that she and Raoul could be together again. Always.
Please God… Let it be so.
She felt his strong arms lifting her and carrying her to the helicopter.
All she wanted was for him to hold her close, against his heart, forever.
“I love you,” he said. “I always have…and I always will.”
“Do we have a future?”
“Marry me. Be mine forever.”
Epilogue
Raoul stared down into the crib that was fringed with blue lace. As always when he came into the nursery filled with musical toys and teddy bears, he felt a soft glorious wonder and a love that was unconditional and all-encompassing.
Nestled against soft blue sheets and blankets was his son, whose hair was fiery like his mother's. Whose eyes were as black and sparkli
ng with devilment as his father's.
Andrew Wade Girouard. It seemed a long name for such a little boy.
Gently Raoul reached down to touch his son, and when he did, the baby's tiny hand curled trustingly around his big brown finger.
Spread out upon an antique rocker were a starched white christening gown and cap. Next to pristine lace was a lazy ball of black fur. Victor had come up to hide from the fuss.
When the nurse saw the cat, she would probably shriek about black cat hairs, but Raoul wasn't about to disturb Victor. He had learned a long time ago that that cat had a way of coming in handy.
"Today's the big day," Raoul whispered to his son.
Downstairs there was the sound of children playing—shrieks of merry laughter. Noelle's two daughters raced through the house on a rampage.
"You're never going to knock over your mother's antiques and break her china, now are you?" Raoul said proudly.
Raoul didn't hear the door behind him open and close, nor the whisper of light feet across the blue carpet. But he caught the scent of honeysuckle.
He turned, and Eva was there—Eva, his precious wife, looking beautiful in green silk and pearls with her red hair flowing about her shoulders. Just knowing she was there made his happiness complete. She was the one person he loved above all else, even his son.
"You can pick him up," she prodded gently with laughter in her voice.
He still couldn't quite believe that.
"He's so small."
"He won't break."
"You keep telling me that."
Eva came to the crib and bundled the blue blanket around the child and handed him to his father, who cradled him a bit awkwardly but ever so gently in the crook of his arm. Together they all walked out onto the shady veranda.
The white columns of Sweet Seclusion gleamed through the hazy sunlight sifting through the dark green trees. Around the mansion was a freshly painted white picket fence upon which ivy and Carolina jasmine had already started to climb.
The family was gathered today for Andy's christening. The Martins had come even though they still couldn't quite accept a Girouard, especially Raoul, as one of their own, as their son-in-law. Zak and Zola had come. They were sitting in the summerhouse with Zola's little girl toddling at their feet.
Eva was an inveterate matchmaker. Raoul remembered how she had insisted that Zak come to London for the wedding. Naturally Zola had been there, too, to catch Eva's bouquet.
Raoul still couldn't believe that his lovely wife and his handsome son weren't all part of a dream. He had his home, and a family to share it with, everything he'd ever longed for since he'd been a child. He had assumed his real name, and although they lived most of the time in London, their vacations and summers were spent at Sweet Seclusion. Eva, who was as disorganized as ever, had her shop. Running it was a constant challenge, but business was brisk.
There were still those who believed even the worst rumors about him. What hurt even more than the occasional damning article written about him, were the occasional accusing letters sent to him by the relative of one of his men who had died in Africa. Eva's family would probably never quite accept him. But none of these things mattered as much as they had before, because he had Eva.
There had been great darkness in his life, and long years of emptiness when he'd lived only for revenge.
But Eva, with her love, had led him back into a world of light that filled every single one of his days with profound joy.
Above all things, he trusted in her and she in him.
Who knew, perhaps in time even the illustrious Martins would come to accept him. Eva still wanted their approval, but more than that she treasured his love.
Carrying his son, Raoul led his wife from the deep shade of the veranda into the sunshine so that he could watch the light turn their hair to fire. They stood there basking in the brilliant warm light and in the glorious joy of their love for a long time. Beneath, they heard children's laughter and all the rich warm sounds of familial happiness.
He felt Eva's fingertips, like flame, move against his skin. His hand tightened on hers, and he pulled her closer. She was a part of him. She was everything, the center of his world that was now as golden as the sunshine. Sometimes when he lay beside her at night, he was so happy he felt he would awaken and find that it was all a dream.
He heard her voice washing over him, caressing him with its husky sound. "I love you. I want to fill our house with children. Our children."
He remembered the long years of anguish and could not speak, but his eyes gentled with love as he held her. He needed her so desperately—and he always would.
But with her at his side, he knew he could face anything.
The End
If you enjoyed this book, it would be so lovely if you left a review on your favorite retailer’s site or Goodreads. In the past when I was published traditionally, your review wasn’t nearly as important to writers like me as it is now that I have started Indie publishing. I was always well-reviewed by major reviewers.
But in this brave new world, reader reviews play a significant part in sales rank and in actual sales. With almost five million new books published this year alone, it is hard for a writer to gain readership.
You can help! And your help will be much appreciated by whatever writer you choose to review! It certainly will be by me.
There are two more books in this series. If you enjoyed the first six, maybe you would like to read Nobody’s Child, Book 7, which is available from Harlequin at all major retailers.
DESCRIPTION:
THAT WAS THEN… Cutter Lord:
Seven years ago the intense, powerful millionaire barged into his brother's wedding reception and attempted to steal the brand-new bride.
THIS IS NOW… The Single Mother:
With her husband's murderer still on the loose, Cheyenne Rose had no choice but to turn to her brother-in-law, the notorious Cutter, for help—the Lord brother she should have married.
And the Deep, Dark Secret: Still haunted by the rumors surrounding the baby Cheyenne delivered less than eight months after the wedding to his brother, Cutter made a proposal of his own….
Secret Child (Book 8) will be available as an e-book in 2017.
In addition to my series, Texas: Children of Destiny, I have also written the Accidental Bodyguard series.
Book 1 of this series is The Accidental Bridegroom.
DESCRIPTION:
When love refuses to die…
He was forced to leave her once, but he’ll never do it again.
The past: Cathy Calderon was the wild, willful heiress her dangerous stepfather hired hard-edged bodyguard Rafe Steel to protect. Rafe never mixed business with pleasure until Cathy set her sights on seducing him.
Six years later: Just as Cathy is about to marry a man her family deems suitable, Rafe discovers she never told him she'd had his daughter, who is an enchanting, pint-sized replica of the woman he can't forget. Even though her stepfather has threatened him if he ever goes near Cathy again, Rafe can't walk away from his daughter or her mother.
Then Magic Goes Haywire: When Cathy commissions a curandera whose love spells always go awry to make a love potion for her bridegroom but "accidentally" shares it with Rafe on The Day of the Dead, the spark between them flares out of control.
Praise for The Accidental Bridegroom
“Ms. Major highlights her classic tale with searing sensuality and a real dramatic flair.” –RT Book Reviews
Description of Book 2:
The Accidental Bodyguard
The Man: Lucas Broderick—powerhouse lawyer.
The Job: Millions had been left to a conniving "goody-two-shoes." Lucas's mission? To break the will.
Accident about to happen: Beautiful mystery heiress Bethany Ann Moran—a.k.a. Chandra.
Lucas Broderick had been hired for the case of the century! The Moran family matriarch had died, leaving her fortune to Bethany Ann—the "dark horse" granddaughter. Bu
t Bethany never arrived to claim her inheritance…and coincidentally Lucas wound up with an alluring amnesiac hiding out in his house. Lucas knew the gorgeous stranger was trouble, but nothing would stop him from protecting her. Even though Chandra bore a remarkable resemblance to Bethany Ann Moran….
Can Lucas save her from the dangerous past? He has to—and this time he'll make Chandra his bride!
Maybe you would like to try Lone Star Dynasty series, Ann’s newest series.
Love with an Imperfect Cowboy (Book1)
DESCRIPTION:
Should she? Or shouldn’t she?
When a rough-cut Texas cowboy haunted by his past saves a Park Avenue bride on the run, opposites attract in a big, Texas way in USA Today Bestselling Ann Major's Love with an Imperfect Cowboy.
Hannah Lewis never imagined she’d run from her own magnificent, Upper East Side wedding. Born and bred in a penthouse on Park Avenue, she excels at everything - except maybe juggling a career, planning a wedding and paying attention to her fiancé. But couldn't he have chosen another day to cheat with her twin sister? Now Hannah's headed as far away as she can get from New York and her public humiliation. No one will expect to find her at a dude ranch in Lonesome, Texas … but just maybe she can find herself there.
Liam Stark is trying to hold it together on the anniversary of the worst night of his life. When a stuck-up beauty walks into the Lonesome Dove Bar, full of rough truckers and ranch-hands, she's trouble in red cowgirl boots—trouble that Liam doesn't need. Especially when he offers her safe haven from a storm on his ranch, and she stirs up memories he'd give anything to forget. Liam has lost too many people he loved—his wife and son on a dangerous stretch of Texas highway, and men under his command in the Afghan conflict. This beauty will be gone in a New York minute as well … unless he asks her to stay.
