“Noooooo—I don’t believe you!” Her voice edged toward hysteria, unable to fathom the man she loved was capable of anything so heinous.
“I’m sorry, Alli, but it’s true,” Logan whispered, tone thick with regret. “According to my source, Nick Barone is a wanted man who stole from his fiancée before he went on the lam. Supposedly the family is still looking for him.”
Hands to her ears, Allison shook her head, refusing to listen. “No . . . you’ve hated him from the beginning, Uncle Logan, and you’d say anything to discredit him, but Nick will be back soon and he’ll prove you wrong, I promise . . .”
Her uncle reached for her hand. “No, Alli, he won’t . . . because he’s not coming back.”
“You don’t know that!” she screamed, tears blurring her vision. She snatched the letter from the love seat and thrust it forward, eyes wild. “He promised, Uncle Logan, and he will . . .”
“Yes,” he whispered, her pain reflected in his eyes, “but he promised his fiancée he’d return too, and yet he didn’t—until now.” He exhaled. “After I offered him money to leave, I might add, which I’ll admit he refused at the time but I suspect will claim before long.”
Her mother gasped while a harsh breath lodged in Alli’s throat. The room swayed as blood drained from her face, bile rising along with a heave. God, no, please, not again.
“Oh, God help us.” Her mother’s rasp of horror echoed Alli’s own.
“I didn’t like Barone from the beginning, it’s true, Allison,” her uncle said quietly, “but Captain Peel vouched for him and he served a purpose in teaching you to protect yourself, so I ignored any misgivings I had. But when he made his intentions clear, I had no choice but to investigate and told Barone as much last week at your party, offering a tidy sum if he’d leave San Francisco—and you—forever, which it appears he did.”
God, why? Tears spilled down Alli’s cheeks as her eyes drifted closed, barely aware of her mother’s arms enfolding her, tugging her back to the love seat.
“Oh, Alli . . . ,” her mother whispered, and Alli collapsed into her hold with weeping so painful, she wanted to die. Why, Nick . . . why?
“Alli, forgive me, please,” Uncle Logan whispered. “I love you, sweetheart, and this was one of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”
She nodded against her mother’s chest, pulling back to blow her nose on the clean handkerchief he pressed into her hand. “I kn-know you do, Uncle L-Logan,” she whispered, her voice as broken as her heart, “and I love you too, you know that, but I’m in love with Nick Barone so deeply, that I’m not sure I’m strong enough to go through this again . . .”
With a low groan, he swept her up in his arms, voice fierce as he tucked his head against hers. “Oh, you are, Alli, and as God is my witness, your mother and I will see to it. You’re not in this alone, sweetheart—don’t ever forget that. We’re family, and family is all the strength you need to get through.” He eased back to take her hand in his while he gripped her mother’s with the other, a sheen in his eyes conveying a depth of feeling she’d seldom seen in her uncle before. “That and God.” He squeezed Alli’s hand as he smiled at her mother. “Faith and family, Alli—an unbeatable combination that I learned about from a very wise woman.”
“Oh, Logan . . .” Her mother gripped his hand before turning to Alli with tears in her eyes. “Your uncle’s right, Allison—with God and family, weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” She caressed Alli’s face with a tender palm. “Somehow, some way . . . God will see us through.”
Alli nodded, a heave shuddering her body as she attempted to stand, legs teetering so much, Uncle Logan braced her with an arm. “I . . . love you both very much,” she whispered, “but I . . . really need to be alone right now, if you don’t mind.”
“Of course,” her mother said, shoring her up with a gentle arm to her waist. “You get some rest now, and we’ll pray about this in the morning, all right?”
“Alli . . .” Uncle Logan pulled her into his arms, the scent of lime flooding her senses with memories of strong arms and skinned knees. His words were quiet and warm in her ear, carrying an assurance she so wanted to believe. “You’ll get through this, I promise—we’ll see to it.”
“Thanks, Uncle Logan—I hope so.” She grazed his cheek with a kiss and then her mother’s. “If you’d tell Cassie and the others I went to bed early with a headache, I’d appreciate it.”
“Certainly, darling. How about some warm milk?” her mother asked, walking her to the door.
“No, thank you, Mother—just a warm bed.”
“All right, then. Good night, Allison.” Her mother gave her a tight hug.
“Allison.”
On the verge of more tears, she turned at the sound of her uncle’s call.
Love radiated from eyes resolute with a press of his jaw. “You’re in love with something that doesn’t exist, Alli, so trust me, the feelings will wane quickly, just like they did with Roger.”
She stared, unable to do anything but nod before she turned away.
Something that doesn’t exist.
Yes, she thought as she fled to the shelter of her room.
Except for the pain . . .
———
“I’m worried, Logan,” Cait whispered at the door, turning to face the man who had become her main source of strength when it came to family crises of late.
“Don’t be, Cait—she’s a strong girl—she’ll weather this.”
A cold chill shivered her body, and she buffed her arms, making her way to the love seat with a sick feeling inside over how wrong she’d been about Nick. She had liked him, come to respect him, and had even secretly hoped he might be the right man for Alli. And now this—a revelation so shocking, it left her depleted and depressed for what lay ahead for her daughter. She sat down and Logan followed suit, hunched with hands clasped over his knees and concern in his eyes. She quickly looked away, certain the tenderness of his gaze would tip tears ready to spill from a tide pool of emotions that seemed to drown her of late. Perching on the edge of her seat, she put her head in her hands, shoulders slumped and water welling beyond her control.
“Cait . . .” His gentle touch caused a heave to rise in her throat despite her most ardent attempt to ward it off, and when a sob broke from her lips, there was no stopping the pull of his arms. “It’s going to be okay,” he whispered, cradling her to his chest. “I promise.”
She attempted to nod, but the heaves only came harder. Her arms slipped to his waist before she even knew what she’d done, clinging as if he were a lifeline while she wracked his body with tears. She could feel the strength of his arms as he held her, the warmth of his breath as he lay his head against hers, and she found she was no longer willing to battle life alone. The scent of lime and spice taunted, convincing her she not only needed Logan McClare in her life and those of her children, but she wanted him too. An unsettling revelation that left her as vulnerable and afraid as her daughter upstairs. This man was blood to her children and loved them as deeply as if they were his own, a powerful attribute that drew her as surely as his arms.
Her tears finally subsided, and the warmth of his hold flamed in her cheeks when she realized her body lay snug against his. She jerked up with a start, apology in her tone while she awkwardly swiped at her eyes. “Goodness, this is becoming a habit, it would seem.”
“One can only hope,” he whispered, fingers caressing her face. “And pray . . .”
His gaze flicked to her lips for the briefest of moments, but it was more than enough, swooping her stomach so hard, she jolted to her feet, voice breathless. “Oh, Logan, I can’t—”
With a gruff clear of his throat, he quickly rose. “No explanation necessary, Cait—I totally understand.” Ruddy color bled up his neck as he adjusted the sleeves of his suit coat, his manner stiff. “I have an early train tomorrow for that weeklong conference in L.A. I told you about, so I best be going, but I’ll see you when I g
et back.”
He bent to give her his customary kiss on the cheek and she halted him with a hand to his arm. “No, you misunderstand me,” she whispered, heart battering her rib cage as she skimmed her fingers along his jaw. “What I started to say was . . . I ‘can’t’ thank you enough for all you do for us, but I’d seriously like to try.” And with a hard swallow, she lifted to gently brush her lips against his, pulse surging at his sharp intake of air.
“Cait . . .” His voice was a strangled rasp as he searched her face, a glimmer of hope invading the clear, gray depths of his eyes. She heard his shallow breathing as he stared, Adam’s apple ducking hard. “Don’t do this to me,” he said in a hoarse whisper, “not unless you’re ready to take it somewhere.”
She paused to scan his handsome face—more weathered and mature than when he’d first wooed and won her years ago, but the pull of attraction as strong as ever. An attraction emanating from eyes that seemed to be a window to his soul, revealing a depth of love and desire that made the tendons go slack at the back of her knees. Never would she have believed she could ever trust her heart to Logan again, and yet here she stood—on the threshold of doing just that, albeit tentatively so. But she wanted to. Oh, Lord, help her—how she wanted to! “To take it somewhere” where she could not only trust Logan as a man who cherished and protected her children, but trust him as a husband who would cherish and protect her as well. To be faithful and true to both her and to God all the days of their lives.
Her chest rose and fell with a shuddering breath as she made her decision, and with a skip of her pulse she cupped his bristled jaw with a shaky hand. “If God is an important part of your life now as you’ve led me to believe . . .” A muscle shifted in her throat. “Then I think maybe . . . just maybe . . . I’m ready to become an important part too.”
A low groan rumbled from his throat as he scooped her up in a powerful embrace. “Oh, Cait, ” he whispered, his breath warm in her ear, “marry me now—tomorrow—and I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never regret it.”
Breathless, she managed to pull away, determined to take it slowly. “Dear, sweet Logan . . .” Her lips curved in a tender smile. “As tempting as that sounds, I think it best if we took this one day at a time, don’t you? Especially in light of Alli’s heartbreak.”
He exhaled slowly. “Agreed,” he whispered, the gentle touch of his lips to her forehead causing her eyes to drift closed. Her stomach quivered when his mouth caressed each eyelid with the softest of kisses before grazing their way to her temple. “Besides,” she whispered, her breathing as uneven as his, “I rather like the idea of courtship, Mr. McClare, just to make sure.”
“Whatever you say, Cait.” Heat skimmed her body when his mouth skimmed her cheek to nuzzle her lips. “But a little mercy, Mrs. McClare, please, in not making the wait too long.”
“Excuse me, miss.”
Caitlyn jerked from Logan’s arms, heat engulfing her cheeks as Hadley stood staunch at the door. Never had she been more grateful for her beloved butler’s disdain for the eyeglasses he seemed prone not to wear. “Mr. Andrew Turner to see you, miss.”
“What’s he want?” Logan snapped, his mood suddenly as heated as the blood in Caitlyn’s cheeks.
“Thank you, Hadley,” she called in a volume loud enough for the butler to hear. “Would you mind showing him to the study for me, please?”
Hadley gave a short bow with a click of heels. “Very good, miss.”
“Blast it, Cait—if you and I are courting, I’d rather not have that letch around.”
Caitlyn bit back a smile, Logan’s jealousy over his ex–best friend surfacing once again. And with good reason, she supposed, given Andrew’s persistence in asking her out, a persistence that had actually softened her stance toward him. Over the months they’d worked together, she’d begun to enjoy his company in a greater capacity, even playfully responding to his flirtations at times. And then weeks ago, he’d told her of his feelings, begging her to consider more.
“Promise you’ll pray about it,” he’d asked at the door after one of their many project meetings, which she took great pains to schedule on nights when Logan was not around. “You and I make a good team, Cait,” he’d whispered, moving so close that her pulse had sped up. “We share a vision, a deep faith, and I pray that bodes well for sharing a life together as well.”
“Pardon me?” Swallowing her shock, she attempted a step back, speechless when he’d stroked her cheek with his thumb.
“I’m falling in love with you, Cait, and I want to court you.”
“Andrew, I . . .” She gulped. “I . . . I can’t . . .”
He paused, his disappointment palpable. “Do you mind if I ask why?”
Her brain scrambled for an answer that wouldn’t offend. “Because, I’m quite content with my life as it is. My family is everything to me, you see, and I want for nothing more.”
He studied her with a keen eye, as if to decipher the truth of her statement before his mouth compressed in a thin line, a hint of hurt in his eyes. “It’s because of Logan, isn’t it?”
“Of course not,” she said too quickly, ever in denial of her burgeoning affection for Logan McClare. “But you and he are not on the best of terms, Andrew, and I refuse to jeopardize that relationship further.”
He gently gripped her arms, a plea in his tone. “Please . . . don’t let Logan stand in the way of something God may have for us, Cait. At least promise you’ll pray about it, all right?”
And so she had, and with all of her heart believed the answer was standing before her this very moment, scowling in that adorable crotchety way he had whenever Andrew’s name came up. A smile curved on her lips as she reassured him with a gentle kiss. “I’ll make it a short meeting, I promise, and perfectly clear that all future project discussions will be held at Walter’s with him and other board members present, all right?”
Logan grunted and hooked her close. “I’d rather you kick him off the board, but since that isn’t likely . . .” He bent to fondle the lobe of her ear with his mouth, tumbling her stomach when his lips slowly trailed to hers. “So, I’ll just stake my claim before I leave.” Cradling the back of her head with a firm hold, he consumed her with a kiss that all but melted her bones to the floor. Her breath caught as he skimmed the curve of her jaw to nip at the lobe of her ear before sinking to wander her throat, whispering his love against her skin. The warmth of his words coaxed a weak moan from her lips, adrift on raspy air. When he finally released her, the heat in his eyes matched that pulsing her body. “Kick him out, Cait—please? Then we’ll continue this discussion when I get back.” He deposited a kiss to her nose before striding to the door, turning to give her a shuttered gaze that made her mouth go dry. “I want you to forget about Turner, and the sooner, the better.” He gave her a wink. “But don’t you dare forget about the man whose heart you hold in the palm of your hand.”
She blinked and he was gone, leaving her standing there with flushed cheeks and trembling limbs, mind racing and pulse even worse.
Forget the man whose heart she held in the palm of her hand? Sucking in a deep breath, she pressed a shaky hand to her chest with a quiver of a smile. Good heavens . . . Andrew who?
27
The grandfather clock in the parlour chimed midnight as Alli lumbered up from her bed, pillow soggy and cold, and her heart even worse. Chilled to the bone, she donned her robe and slippers, then pulled a fresh handkerchief from her drawer to replace the sodden one. Dabbing her eyes, she made her way to the door in search of the laudanum Rosie now kept on the top shelf of the pantry. Oh, how she prayed it would cure this horrific headache and lure her to sleep where she wouldn’t have to think about Nick.
Nick. Mr. Nick. Detective Ga-roan. Mr. Cranky Pants. Mr. Pinhead.
And, apparently, Mr. Liar and Thief—the man who’d stolen her heart and so much more.
Her hope . . . her joy . . . her faith.
Opening her bedroom door, she padded down
the hall and stopped, the light bleeding beneath her mother’s door giving her pause. A sudden longing for the comfort of her mother’s arms swelled in her chest like saltwater swelled in her eyes, and swabbing her face with the handkerchief, she darted down the hall to her room, hand poised, ready to knock.
A muffled sob leaked through the door, and Alli froze, fear icing her skin. Mother? With two sharp taps, she eased the door open, stomach fisting when she saw her weeping on the bed. “Oh, Mother!”
“Allison?” Her mother jolted up, voice nasal as she quickly blotted a handkerchief to her eyes. “What are you doing up—are you having trouble sleeping?”
Alli rushed to hug her, snuggling into the familiar scent of Pear’s soap and lavender. “Yes, Mother, I am, but what I want to know is why you’re crying.”
Ever the nurturer, Caitlyn McClare swept the covers aside to allow her in, then bundled them both back up and tucked her head to Alli’s. “Oh . . . just a slight altercation with Andrew Turner,” she said slowly, a thread of pain in her tone that Alli didn’t miss. A levity that seemed a bit forced worked its way into her voice. “And an unhealthy dose of the change of life creeping in, I suppose, given how weepy I’ve been of late.” She hesitated, hand gentle as she stroked Alli’s hair. “I’m so very sorry about Nick, darling, and I grieve over your loss.”
At mention of Nick’s name, tears instantly stung. “I love him so much that I can’t even imagine he did all those awful things.” She peered into her mother’s eyes, fear contorting her features. “How can that be? How can I have fallen for someone who deceived me so completely—not just once, but four times?” Her body convulsed in a sob as she collapsed in her mother’s arms, heaves shuddering her words. “How will I ever be happy if I can’t trust myself to fall in love with the right man?”
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