He straightened and took in Marly's small form against the backdrop of an endless stretch of open space. In that moment, a flash of loneliness stabbed at him. Hers. His. Carter took a hesitant step forward, coming within inches of her. He could smell the flowers. Was it shampoo or perfume? He couldn't tell.
In the pale moonlight, her hair looked more blond than strawberry, and it hung straight in the back, just covering her neck. He started to reach up, to run his fingers through the golden strands, but caught himself before he could act on the uncharacteristic impulse. Marly didn't want that kind of comfort, and despite his identification with her real or imagined isolation, he didn't need to further complicate an already complicated situation.
"You found one of your little boys underneath the porch," he whispered behind her.
"Yes. His name is Tyler."
"So you called his mother to let her know the boy was all right?"
She nodded. "No one picked up the phone for a long time. It just rang and rang. Then someone picked up, but didn't say anything. I—I said my name. I identified myself. It was stupid, but there was no way I could have known."
"Known what? I don't understand."
"Whoever that person was, they hung up on me. And when I tried to call back, the line was busy." She didn't speak for a long moment, and when she continued, the cadence was much slower, as if she was choosing her words carefully. "I gave up and went to bed. I didn't find out until today." Her head drooped lower as she said the words, "Tyler's mother died last night."
Carter closed his eyes. Damn, but he understood grief. "I'm sorry, Marly. But you can't blame yourself—"
"No—"
She turned around then, nearly colliding with him, and Carter's hands went instinctively to her waist, holding her in place. Her head lifted a notch, though she didn't look at him but stared straight ahead. It was enough for Carter to see the tears she'd been trying to hide, and the sight brought with it a fresh wave of guilt at his insensitivity.
Plain. He'd thought she was plain. Carter grimaced. She wasn't the least bit plain, not to him—not the night of the fund-raiser and certainly not now. But what he wouldn't have given to have her tear-stained face and puffy eyes look plain now…
With one hand, he lifted her chin so he could see her in the moonlight. With the back of his fingers, he caressed her cheek. "I'm sorry."
"Thank you."
She had one of the loveliest mouths he'd ever seen, and when she started to chew on her lower lip, his fingers automatically went to stop her. Her lips were so soft and inviting. He could feel her breath, warm and moist against his knuckles. He wanted to kiss her again. He didn't care that Eva Ann would have called the urge base, primitive. He cared only about Marly, about offering her comfort in the only way he knew how.
Slowly, he circled his hand to her nape, supporting her head as he lowered his lips to hers. There was an instant of brushing contact, followed by another and yet another, until his mouth was rocking very slowly over hers.
Marly drew in a sharp breath, her lips parting to whisper, "Please."
Cautions not to overstep his bounds, Carter pulled back. But when he gazed down into her eyes, he was startled to see unmasked desperation reflected there.
She wasn't asking him to stop, he realized. Still, she wasn't urging him to go on, either.
Her hands shook where they clung to his shirt, and he had the strangest sense that she was engaged in some kind of inner struggle.
Was she holding herself back? Did a part of her want this? Carter again vowed to give her whatever she wanted, but to take only what she offered. Never would he push her further than she wanted to go.
Hesitantly, he slid his fingers upward, into the silky strands of her hair. Marly tipped her head back, leaning into his touch. He felt his breath quicken as he lowered his head again, his heart pounding like a schoolboy on a first date.
She closed her eyes and eliminated the last inch of space between their months. A tremor of response rocked him from head to toe. She felt so good. Too good. He had to hold himself in check. It would be so easy—too easy—to cross the line.
When her lips parted, he tested the waters carefully, probing with his tongue. He intended only to taste. To give and take only a few seconds of comfort. Nothing more. Lowering his hand to her waist, he drew her into the circle of his arms.
He deepened the kiss, felt her lips move in response as she pressed closer into his embrace. But the moment his tongue touched hers and she moved against him, all tenderness vanished, replaced by an intense, aching need that slashed through Carter's defenses with stunning velocity.
Suddenly, he couldn't hold her close enough, couldn't get enough of her. His tongue plunged and tangled with hers, and all the while she kissed him back with the same hunger.
They clung to each other, frantic hands kneading, gripping. And then just as suddenly, the heat of her touch was gone, his arms empty all too soon.
"Marly?" He held out one hand, but her eyes stopped him from moving toward her. They still held the aftereffects of passion, but they were tinged with fear, as well.
Damn it. He'd done it again. Carter dropped his hand. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off. Not when he was this close.
What was happening to him, anyway? All these strange feelings creeping up on him, clouding his judgment. It wasn't supposed to be like this. Not with Marly.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I don't know what came over me."
"It's all right," he muttered, but it wasn't all right. He was the one who should have been apologizing—not her.
"I'm not usually so…" She rubbed her temple. "Easily distracted." She paused for several seconds before asking, "Where was I?"
He shook his head. Every muscle in his body was tight. He had to step back before he could give in to the impulse to step forward, to pull her into his arms again.
"Oh, yes. I was about to tell you before we … before. About Tyler's mother. She didn't just die…"
"But I thought you said—"
"No. She was murdered."
"Murdered?" Carter folded his arms across his chest. "But who'd want to kill her?"
"Her ex-husband. Billy Ray Cameron."
His eyes widened. "Tyler's mother is Linda Cameron? No wonder you were so interested in that newspaper article."
Marly nodded, saving her words until she could regulate her breathing again.
Had Carter King really kissed her like that? And had she actually kissed him back like that?
Her lips still tingled from his touch. A lingering warmth spiraled low in her belly.
She never would have expected such aching tenderness from a man as stoic as Carter cast himself to be. While his gentle touch spoke volumes, gave her the reassurances she needed to hear, the hot, soul-searing passion had taken her entirely by surprise. She'd craved it with a deep-seated need long unfamiliar to her, and he'd given it in a way she would have expected him to reserve for women far more attractive than she.
Marly drew a quick breath. This wasn't the time for her foolish romanticism. She had to rein in her thoughts, get her mind off Carter's warm, sensual lips. His hands on her body, touching her, holding her.
Her fingers curled into fists. She had to stop. That was why she'd run from the car. She couldn't keep a clear head when she associated so many sensations with being in that car. Memories of kissing Carter and equal measures of tenderness and heat and wanting.
And now, she would associate the exact same things with Annie Lou's garden.
"About Tyler," she said when she finally trusted her voice.
"He's Billy Ray Cameron's son, the reason you've got your center locked up tighter than Fort Knox."
She looked down at her hands and nodded. She had to be careful about what she revealed. It was enough to have her own life on the line, not to mention jeopardizing Tyler's—she couldn't risk endangering Carter's, as well.
At her sudden shudder, Carter shrugged off his leather jacket and
draped it over her shoulders. The garment felt as inviting as a down comforter, as soft and warm as her mother's fine cashmere, but the faint, woodsy scent that enveloped her … it was all Carter's.
She remembered how it had lingered on her dress that night and how she had savored it, convinced she would never again allow herself that close to him.
But now she was, and she wanted to believe he was the answer to her problems, not the source of additional ones. She needed to believe that.
"Thanks." She stuck her arms through the sleeves. "Can we, um, walk for a while?"
"Sure."
She took his proffered arm and guided him toward the far end of the garden as a stall technique. She needed just a few more minutes to mentally prepare. True, it was an enormous request she was about to make, but was it really any greater than what Carter was asking of her? She hoped he would put it in that perspective—she prayed he would. But first she had to convince him of the urgency without revealing the truth. The whole truth.
Carter looked around. "What is this?"
"Just a field. The soil's not the best. Nothing will grow here. But it's good for walking." She let go of his arm and surveyed the barren field. The moonlight bathed it in white, making it appear covered in snow. Marly looked up at Carter, admiring the lines of his face, his thoughtful expression.
On some level, she trusted him—enough to know he would keep Tyler safe—but she wasn't ready to trust anyone with her life, which she would put at stake the minute she revealed the truth about her involvement.
She knew too well that prison bars couldn't thwart a person's vengeance, that if she pointed the finger at Billy Ray, he'd make sure she paid dearly. She'd been there before. She knew his type, the predators, and she knew how it felt to be their hunted, to be the prey.
Marly shivered and realized her hand had drifted down toward Carter's. Without a word, he took it and started walking. She fell into step beside him. She hadn't realized until the moment he'd first kissed her just how much she'd craved the warmth of another human being. And when he'd kissed her the second time, she didn't think she was ever going to get enough.
She relished the next few minutes of silence, the illusion of being a normal woman without secrets, holding hands on a moonlit stroll with a man to whom she was undeniably attracted. Maybe in another place, another time, another life. But certainly not here, not now, not in this lifetime.
"Billy Ray Cameron is as crooked as they come," Marly said in a calm, even tone that belied the pandemonium inside her. "I've heard stories about him that just make me sick inside. He's corrupted an entire community with his drug trafficking, yet he's never done significant jail time."
"They never can get anything to stick, can they?"
Marly shook her head. "Somehow, he always manages to get off. Not enough evidence. Last month he was implicated in the murder of a teenage boy the police believed was a runner for Billy Ray's drug ring. The prosecution subpoenaed Linda, but she was a reluctant witness. She told one of the teachers at the center that she'd perjure herself before she told them anything. God knows Billy Ray threatened to kill her on enough occasions. He nearly succeeded once when Tyler was three. He used to beat them. Both of them."
At Marly's sound of anguish, Carter squeezed her hand.
"It just infuriates me that people like him go unpunished, while the innocents die. Where is the justice in this world? When Linda left him, I thought she had a prayer. I wish I could say I'd never imagined it would end like this. I know he killed her. I mean," she hastened to add, "he had all the motive in the world."
"Marly?" He turned her to face him. "You said there's something more you want. More than the donation. What is it?"
At his words, her last memory of Linda Cameron flashed in her mind's eye. She withdrew her hand and wrapped her arms around her midsection as a swift wave of nausea threatened to overcome her. Beads of sweat broke out over her upper lip, and she forced herself to take deep, even breaths. She couldn't afford to get sick again, here in front of Carter. How would she convincingly explain that?
"I haven't told anyone about Tyler. Annie Lou and I are the only ones who know he's here. And now you."
"I don't understand. Why all the secrecy?"
"Because," Marly said slowly, regulating her breathing, "with Tyler's mother dead, the authorities will turn Tyler over to his father. And I'm afraid it was Billy Ray who answered the phone, who hung up on me when I called. I'm afraid he knows I've got Tyler, or else he suspects I know more than I'm letting on about his whereabouts. That little boy isn't going to be safe until his father's indicted," she said, slamming one fist into her palm.
"Easy there, slugger." He took her hands in his for a brief moment. "You're assuming Billy Ray even wants him."
"Oh, he wants him." Marly embraced her hostility toward Tyler's father. Anger was an emotion she could justify to Carter—he would never understand the true extent of her fear. "He came here this afternoon looking for him."
"Here?" Carter frowned. "You've got to be kidding."
"No joke. Scared the hell out of me."
"Why didn't you call the police?"
She shook her head and started to turn. "I don't want to get involved."
He caught her elbow. "But you are involved."
"Look, I don't want to argue about this. Not now. Not here. My number-one priority is to hide Tyler from Billy Ray." She wrung her hands together, grappling with the words she needed to say. She had to convey the urgency without revealing the whole truth. "I'm afraid Billy Ray thinks Tyler knows more than he does, that he might have … witnessed something he shouldn't have."
One of Carter's eyebrows shot up. "Did he?"
"No, but I'm not willing to fork Tyler over so he can explain himself to that murderer," she said with vehemence, but desperation turned her voice into a plea. "Can't you see? I need to hide him somewhere far away, somewhere no one would ever think to look, somewhere his father could never trace. Just until he's convicted. Then Tyler can be placed in foster care. Please, Carter. Please try to understand. I don't know where else to turn. I need to hide him, and you're the only one I know with those kinds of resources. Will you help me?"
"Will I help you?" Carter echoed. "Marly, you want to kidnap a child. You realize that, don't you?"
"Yes," she admitted with a sad smile. "That's the true irony here, isn't it? I can follow one set of rules that says I'm breaking the law if I don't turn Tyler over to his rightful guardian. Or I can follow another set entirely. The rules right here." She thumped her chest. "The ones that tell me I cannot stand by and let an innocent child suffer at the cruel hand of fate. The ones that tell me I will protect this child at all costs, even if it means breaking the law. I can live with that. Maybe I wouldn't have before, but this is who I am now, and some things I just can't change. This is one of them. So I'm sorry if you think less of me, but you have to know at least this much."
Carter tipped his head back and drew a deep breath. When he straightened, he met her gaze directly. "I don't think less of you. I'd be lying if I said I did. Truth is, I can't fault a logic that aims for the greater good, even if it does defy conventional rules. Maybe that's a flaw we have in common." The corner of his month curved upward, revealing a long slash of a dimple in his cheek.
"Will you help me, then?"
"Let's just think this through here. What if the police can't get a conviction? What then?"
"They will. They have to. They've already brought Billy Ray in for questioning. He's got to be the prime suspect. Surely his luck can't hold out forever."
Carter scratched his chin, his appearance thoughtful, as if he was mulling over any mundane, run-of-the-mill dilemma. With a sinking numbness, Marly remembered a line from Charles Dickens about secondhand care, like secondhand clothes, coming easily off and on.
"Is there anything else?" he asked. "Anything you're not telling me?"
The shame of her deception rushed in her ears like the sound of sand pouring fro
m a child's bucket onto the concrete. He had a right to know. She'd allow him that. But there were too many lives at stake, and she couldn't take the risk. She couldn't tell another soul what she had witnessed at Linda Cameron's apartment that night.
"I've told you everything," she said, trying to sound more certain than she felt.
"No, I don't think so. Not everything."
At his words, the air froze in Marly's lungs; breathing became an impossible task.
"You still haven't told me if you'll marry me."
Slowly, she exhaled.
"Marly, please don't make me out to be some kind of monster. I want a child. Two children—"
"Yes, I believe you mentioned that preference earlier." She nodded, rubbing her temple to ease her sudden lightheadedness.
"I'm not looking for a surrogate. Is it so terrible to want the mother of my children in our lives?"
"I never thought that. It wasn't so much your intentions as your methods—"
"I told you before, I've already gone the traditional route. It didn't work for me, and I don't have time to sit back and wait for opportunity to knock. You're my last chance, Marly." He lowered his voice, "I … I need you."
Something inside Marly's heart churned. Her eyes burned with unshed tears. She didn't know why, of all the women in the world, Carter had chosen her. But she needed him more than he needed her. She'd realized that tonight, in the aftermath of Billy Ray's visit.
How bizarre it seemed that in the mere space of a week, the pros of a loveless marriage to a complete stranger seemed to have undergone mitosis and multiplied to outnumber the cons. The impossible had become not only possible, but essential. Before her stood the one man who could ensure the welfare of Tyler and the children.
"Will you marry me, Marly?"
She took a deep, steadying breath. "In return for Tyler's protection and a donation to the center in the amount you specified. As long as we agree on the terms, yes. I'll marry you."
For a minute, Carter could do no more than hold his breath, afraid that at any second Marly would retract her words. But she didn't, and the longer he waited, the more tense the silence between them grew.
CINDERELLA BRIDE Page 9
