by Anne Stuart
“Don’t try to look fierce with me, Pops,” Cathy replied, unmoved. “Though I know from long experience that if you don’t want to tell me anything I may as well not even bother asking. When are they going to let you out of here?”
“Tomorrow afternoon. And don’t you bother about coming to see me—I know you’ll be getting ready for your trip to the Caribbean.”
“I would be if I had any intention of going,” Cathy responded demurely. “As it is, I’ll just move my things out to the house and await your return.”
“No!” There was something curiously akin to panic in his husky voice. “I don’t want you out there. I can’t bear having everybody fussing over me.”
Cathy’s forest-green eyes met his calmly. “I can be just as stubborn as you, Pops, and if I’ve decided that I’m not going to St. Alphonse there’s nothing you can do to make me go.”
“You don’t think so?” He met the challenge stonily. “We’ll have to see about that. I’m not so sick that I can’t still get exactly what I want. I have ways, daughter, that you wouldn’t even begin to imagine.” ‘
“Really?” she shot back. “You should know by now that I’m more than a match for you.”
“We’ll see,” he promised grimly. “We’ll see.”
The next day was far too busy to allow Cathy much time for second thoughts. There was no way in heaven she would spend the next few weeks at Whiteoaks unless armed with a large enough stack of novels to keep her safely occupied, away from the myriad delights of backbiting and gossip offered by her discontented siblings. Then she had to unpack her suitcases, dumping the warm-weather clothes and replacing them with jeans and sweaters to keep her warmer, although they were certain to turn Georgia pale with horror. At the last minute she packed Sin’s Irish knit sweater. After all, he’d have no use for it down in the Caribbean, and he hadn’t asked for it back.
For a moment she allowed herself to wonder whether he would regret that she hadn’t come. Meg had maintained a stony silence since her final plea last evening, and Cathy couldn’t decide whether she was relieved or disappointed. Heading down to St. Alphonse with Meg would have been playing with fire. Despite the fact that Sin MacDonald seemed scarcely interested in her, hadn’t called her in the three days before he’d set sail, Cathy couldn’t shake the remembrance of his devastating kiss in the hallway. If only she could decide what had provoked it. Was it a mere whim, a passing fancy, or a matter of habit? Maybe he was so unsure of his masculinity that he had to go about forcing it on any female who was less than interested.
Much as she wanted to believe that, it was too far-fetched. Sin knew only too well that beneath her cool exterior she had been fascinated despite herself. And she had yet to meet anyone less unsure of his masculinity.
She couldn’t think of Meg without a wave of guilt washing over her. It wasn’t often that her sister asked anything of her, and to have to turn her down was painful beyond belief. But Cathy’s family ties were strong, and her thwarted need to be needed overwhelming. As long as she felt her father truly needed her, and Meg only wanted her companionship, then there was no question where her duty lay.
Glancing at the clock by her bed, she allowed herself a noisy, far from satisfactory sigh. Six fifteen, and Meg’s plane would be leaving in less than two hours. Knowing her sister’s almost excessive punctuality, Cathy had little doubt that Meg would already be en route to Dulles Airport, without having placed a last minute call to her sister, to cajole, to threaten, or at least to let her know she was forgiven. It was unlike Meg to hold a grudge, but in this matter she had used every trick she could to change Cathy’s mind. Cathy had remained adamant, but now, as she watched her clock and sighed, she wondered whether she had made the right decision.
The ringing of her doorbell interrupted her reveries, the buzz shrill and angry in the silent apartment. It was amazing, Cathy thought as she closed her suitcase and headed toward the door, how expressive a mechanical device such as a doorbell could be. There was little doubt that whoever was ringing was quite furiously angry, a supposition that was borne out as a loud pounding began.
“All right, all right, I’m coming,” she shouted crossly as she fiddled with the various locks and bolts. Before undoing the final one she peered through the peephole, encountering a broad, blue-clad chest.
“If you don’t open this door, Cathy,” Sin MacDonald’s voice came unbelievably from the other side, “I swear to God I will break it down.”
Hesitating no longer, Cathy slid the final bolt on the door and opened it. Standing there in all his towering six foot four glory stood a deeply tanned, furiously angry Sin. The last few days on the deck of the Tamlyn had turned his golden skin mahogany color; his hair was streaked by the sun, and his eyes, blazing as they were with anger, looked more green than hazel. He was still dressed in sailing clothes—faded denims, sneakers and a collar-less white knit shirt opened at his darkly tanned throat. His teak arms were crossed on his broad chest, and the expression on his face was enraged.
If this man had been handsome before, the added days in the sun had made him well-nigh irresistible, Cathy thought dazedly, backing away from his panther stalk. “I—I thought you were halfway to the Caribbean by now,” she stammered, cursing herself for showing how unnerved she was.
“I was, and still would have been if it weren’t for your self-centered foolishness,” he shot back.
“When Charles called Meg last night she couldn’t stop crying. Of all the selfish, adolescent gestures.” He ran an exasperated hand through his thick brown curls. “Don’t you ever think of anyone but yourself? Meg needs you right now.”
“Meg has Charles,” she snapped. “And I fail to see what business it is of yours, or what you’re even doing here, for that matter.”
“I had to fly up for an important meeting, and I promised Charles I’d get you on that plane if I had to drag you kicking and screaming through Dulles Airport. If it were up to me I wouldn’t give a damn what you did, but Meg and Charles need you.” His voice was grim. “Now are you going to go pack your bags or will I have to do it for you?”
“If you take one step toward my bedroom I’ll scream,” Cathy replied furiously. “How dare you come in here and tell me what to do? Meg knows perfectly well why I’m staying behind, why I can’t leave.”
“And why is that? Because you’re afraid to be around me?” he taunted with uncomfortable accuracy.
“Of all the conceited-!” Words failed her. Determined to calm herself, she took three deep, slow breaths. “I don’t think we have anything more to say. I was in the midst of cooking dinner,” she lied. “I’m going to continue, and when I come out I want you to be gone.” Turning her tall, straight back on him with all the dignity she could muster, she strode into the kitchenette, praying, hoping, and dreading for the door to slam behind his retreating figure. Her nerves were strung taut as a wire, and when he came up behind her, his strong hands grabbing her arm and pulling her to face him with too much force, she grabbed the first thing she could to ward him off. Which happened to be a rather small, dull, and completely ineffective paring knife.
It happened so fast her mind blurred. One moment she had turned on him, brandishing the tiny knife, in the next he had spun her around and shoved her against the wall, her arm twisted behind her, the knife dropping from numb and nerveless fingers. For a moment she was dizzy from the pain, convinced her arm was about to be dislocated. And then she was released as Sin moved away, breathing rapidly in the tiny kitchen.
“That was a very stupid thing to do,” he said shakily. Slowly she turned around to face him, her face paper white in the fluorescent light, her breath coming as rapidly as his.
“Yes,” she agreed in a whisper. “It was.” The look of the panther was back about him in full force, and for the first time Cathy was actually frightened of him. It wasn’t so much the violence with which he subdued her pitiful attack. It was the speedy professionalism of it that filled her with horror and suspicio
ns she couldn’t even begin to name.
Sin’s breathing slowed to a normal rate, and that dangerous look began to recede. He checked the thin gold watch on one tanned wrist, then met her wary gaze. “The plane leaves in an hour and a half. You have exactly fifteen minutes to get ready, or we’ll leave without your luggage.”
“I’m not going.” She could have wished her voice was somewhat stronger than the reedy whisper, but she continued to glare at him defiantly.
Bending to pick up the knife and toss it back in the drawer, he took her arm in a gentle grip that belied the steel in his long fingers. “Haven’t I made it perfectly clear?” he inquired silkily. “You’re going to do what I say if I have to knock you unconscious and carry you aboard in a suitcase.”
“You’d do just that, wouldn’t you, if you thought you could get away with it?” she stormed. “You’re nothing but a—a—” Various words flitted though her mind. What exactly was he? A terrorist, a gangster, a mercenary?
Apparently Sin was just as interested in her opinion. A faintly amused light entered his previously grim eyes. “I’m nothing but a what, Cathy?”
“A bully!” she said defiantly, her voice stronger.
The smile reached his mobile mouth. “I can’t argue with that. Are you going to pack?”
She tried once more. “Give me one reason why I should accompany you?” she demanded. “Just one.”
“I can give you several. First, because I’m a hell of a lot bigger than you are and I’m not giving you any choice. Second, because despite your martyred air, you know perfectly well that your father doesn’t even want you around. So all this noble self-sacrifice is a joke. If you’re worried about me being around let me assure you that I’ll keep as far away from you as you like.” Why did he have to look so desperately handsome when he made that magnificent concession? “But most of all, your sister really needs you. She’s desperately afraid she’ll lose this baby like she lost the other one, even though her doctor says it’s fine for her to travel. She needs another woman with her, one she can trust and confide her fears in, and...” His voice trailed off before the combination of wrath and concern in her sea-green eyes.
“Someone she can confide in? It seems unlikely that I’m that person, since she didn’t bother to confide the simple fact that she was pregnant again. How was I supposed to know why she needed me so desperately? Do you think I’m completely heartless? No, don’t bother to answer that. Obviously you do.”
Concern wiped the last trace of anger from Sin’s tanned face. “I’m sure she meant to tell you before your father got sick. She only found out a couple of weeks ago, and she’s been afraid to talk about it to anyone but Charles.”
“And you,” Cathy added bitterly.
“And me,” he agreed. “Well, now that you know, what do you intend to do about it? Are you going to let her make the trip alone and worry herself sick?”
“Don’t be absurd,” she snapped. “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”
“Make it five. I don’t know about the traffic at this hour,” he ordered lightly, taking her acquiescence quietly. If he’d gloated, Cathy thought, she would have gone for him again, no matter how efficiently he managed to repel attackers.
The ride to the airport was accomplished in silence. Sin kept his eyes straight ahead, all his concentration on rush hour traffic, while Cathy leaned back against the seat and closed her weary eyes, trying to remember what she had thrown in the one suitcase she’d had time to pack. For all she knew she’d end up in St. Alphonse with very outdated ski-wear, and she had the overbearing man next to her to thank for it. Stealing a glance at his uncompromising profile, she allowed herself a small sigh. No matter how she tried to hold on to it, the resentment had slipped away once she had committed herself to accompanying him. Perhaps he was right, that she had sought any excuse because she was afraid of him.
Well, she wouldn’t have to be afraid of his attentions or that devastating light in his hazel eyes anymore. He had made it more than clear how little he thought of her. Self-centered, martyred, hadn’t he called her? Well, perhaps he was right.
They had turned off into the airport complex when she finally found her voice and her courage. “Sin?” Her voice was slightly shaky. Sin kept his eyes straight ahead of him, his face expressionless. “I’m sorry.” Her voice broke somewhat, and she cursed her vulnerability.
For a long moment it didn’t appear that he heard her. And then, without taking his eyes off the road, his large strong hand reached out, covered hers, holding it in a gentle, reassuring grip that almost wiped away the last tiny bit of self-control she possessed.
For countless, breathless moments his hand held hers. In the darkness of the car her slender hand felt lost in his large, capable one, the calluses rough against her smooth skin, the strength and warmth flowing from his body to hers, calming and steadying her. It was like a tangible thing, the feeling flowing through them. And then, as they pulled up in front of the departure lounge, he gave her hand a brief, reassuring squeeze before releasing it to shift gears. And as Cathy turned her attention to the scurrying passengers, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something incredibly intimate had just passed between the two of them. That knowledge was both enticing and threatening, and it was with a sense of relief that she watched as he stopped the car in front of a walkway outside the air terminal.
“Meg’s got your ticket.” When he spoke his voice was entirely normal, and Cathy took her cue from him.
“She knows I’m coming?” she inquired steadily.
A flash of white against the dark tan signaled his amusement. “She knows I don’t take no for an answer,” he replied. “I’ll see you in St. Alphonse.”
“Aren’t you flying with us?” She was startled into asking, then cursed herself for betraying her interest.
He shook his head. “I have some business to attend to, and then I’m flying back down to meet Charles outside of Miami so we can sail the rest of the way. We should follow you by two or three days at the most.”
“Don’t hurry on my account,” she snapped. “We’ll be just fine without you.”
He threw back his head and laughed out loud, a warm, lovely sound on the autumn air. “I have little doubt that you will be. Try not to pull a knife on anyone before I get there. I might have difficulty extricating you from the results of such a foolish move.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll save my knives for you,” she replied in dulcet tones as she climbed out of the car. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then, giving her an abrupt nod, he put the BMW back into gear and drove off, leaving her standing there, staring after him a bit woefully, her small suitcase clasped in her hand. Then, squaring her shoulders, she turned her back on his retreating taillights and went in search of her sister and her enforced flight to St. Alphonse. And as she moved through the crowds she was humming to herself.
* * *
Chapter Nine
* * *
There was a silvery sliver of a moon, hanging lop-sided in the clear night sky. As Cathy stepped off the plane onto the tarmac she stared up at the night, unable to shake a strange feeling of expectation. The air was velvety warm on her skin, a soft breeze blowing her hair away from her face, and she wanted to stretch out her arms and embrace the night and the sea breeze. Instead practicality reared its ugly head, and she turned back to her slightly green-tinged sister.
“That is the most horrifying landing I’ve ever had to sit through,” Meg gasped as she reached the tarmac. “I thought for sure we were going to end up in the ocean.”
“The landing strip was a little short,” Cathy conceded, taking her sister’s arm as she stumbled slightly. Cathy was feeling very protective now of her older sister; they had spent the whole flight talking about Meg’s pregnancy and her fears. Cathy sent a silent thanks to Sin for having forced her hand; Meg did need her. “That’s why we had to fly in on such a small airplane. But look on the bright side—at least we came in when it was dark. Can you imagi
ne having to watch that landing in broad daylight?”
“Oh, please!” Meg moaned. “I may not leave St. Alphonse for nine months.”
“Oh, taking off should be easier than landing,” Cathy reassured her blithely. “And Charles will be with you to hold your hand.” Unbidden the memory of Sin’s hand capturing hers filled her mind and flooded her pale complexion. She averted her incriminating face. “Why don’t you find a seat in the airport while I see to our luggage and a taxi? You look beat.”
“I am tired,” Meg admitted. “I don’t seem to have much energy nowadays.”
“That’s perfectly normal for the first part of your pregnancy, isn’t it?” Cathy couldn’t keep the anxiety from her voice. “You’ve checked with the doctor and everything?”
“Perfectly normal,” Meg reassured her with a smile. “Dr. Gibson says I’m strong as an ox and in perfect health.”
“Well, stay that way, or you’ll have me to answer to,” Cathy threatened, her broad smile taking the sting out of her words. As she made her way to the baggage claim she reveled in her sense of well-being. It was a beautiful night, she would soon have a new niece or nephew, and she was away from Washington and the painful memories that she never could seem to shake. And whether Sin MacDonald disapproved of her or not, he was undoubtedly moved by her, and the thought of his incipient arrival caused a pleasant blend of apprehension and excitement some-where in the vicinity of her stomach. And when she remembered the night he kissed her, the feelings made her dizzy.
It had been a tense few minutes after Sin left and Cathy searched the crowded airport terminal for her sister. She had finally caught up with her at the ticket counter. Meg had turned and met her searching gaze with a faint, guilty flush and a beseeching expression.
“You idiot,” Cathy had announced succinctly, enveloping her petite elder sister in a tight hug. “Why in the world didn’t you tell me?”
