Sarah's Secrets

by Lisa Childs

  She shuddered against him, her eyes wide and full of disbelief. How could she not know how lovely she was?

  His fingertips traced along her cheekbones with all the care he took when finding a hold on a sharp surface of rock. But he’d not had time for his hobby, not for a long time.

  Work, real work, kept him from his small pleasures. Like this. When had he last touched a woman? When had he last wanted with the intensity burning in him now? Maybe never.

  “Sarah…”

  She silenced him with her lips, diving into a kiss that stole his breath away. But not his conscience.

  “Thank you.” She murmured the words between kisses.

  He cupped her shoulders, longing to run his hands down them and cup her breasts. But it wouldn’t be fair. “For what?”

  For the compliment? He didn’t think so.

  She smiled. “For saving my life. For protecting my son. Thank you, Royce, for risking your life for mine.” Her arms wrapped tight around his shoulders, while her fingers played in his hair, skimming up near the bandage on his head.

  His damned thick head. He winced. “Sarah…”

  “Touch me, Royce.” She dropped back on her heels and peeled his hands from her shoulders, tugging them down until they closed over her breasts.

  Silken skin and hard, erect nipples brushed his palms. He groaned and fought the need to sip at her whisper-soft skin. “Sarah…I can’t.”

  She stiffened in his arms.

  “I mean, I want to.” He groaned again and dropped his arms to his sides. “I want to. But I can’t…not until I’m completely honest with you.”

  She shivered and wrapped her arms around herself. “You’ve not been honest?”

  The temptation of her nakedness was too great. He picked up the damp, gray wool blanket from the floor and wrapped it around her shoulders. He didn’t bother with anything for himself. His blood still scorched his veins with a fire of need for her.

  “Not completely, Sarah.”

  She exhaled a shaky breath. “So what else is there? What have you left out?”

  He rolled his shoulders, but the ache didn’t ease. “This man I’m bringing you to see…”

  “Yes, Bart McCarthy. What about him?”

  “I told you that he’s in a coma, but…” The guilt rushed over him now, as his father’s words haunted him. You’re wasting your time, boy, as usual.

  Her voice soft, she asked, “What kind of illness does he have?”

  He swallowed hard, but the truth refused to stay down. “None. He’s an old man but healthy as a horse.”

  “So what caused the coma…I don’t understand…” She lifted her pointed chin, her smoky gaze intent on his face.

  “He was shot.”

  SARAH’S FINGERS trembled on the buttons of the dry blouse, but she managed them. As she’d managed everything else over the years.

  Royce’s news hadn’t been as earth-shattering as he’d thought. Not for Sarah. She knew earth-shattering news. “I went below to search your vehicle, to find out if there was anything you were keeping from me,” she confessed.

  “I know.”

  “This wasn’t what I expected.”

  “What did you expect?”

  “The worst. I always expect the worst.” She sighed. “At least from men…”

  “I know about Jeremy’s father.”

  “Yes, I told you—”

  “No, I know everything, Sarah. Sheriff Buck told me.”

  Guilt and anguish churned in her stomach. “About my brother…”

  “Yeah.” He nodded. “None of that was your fault, Sarah. You have to realize that.”

  Sarah’s knees weakened, so she dropped onto the cot where he’d lain earlier. No warmth remained from his body. But after their icy submersion, neither one was warm.

  The crew, who had carried Royce to the empty stateroom, had told her how much time had passed from the moment she’d jumped to the moment of their rescue. Not only had Royce dived in and pulled her from under the water, he’d kept them afloat until the wounded attendant had gotten assistance for them.

  He’d proven she could trust him with her life.

  But not her pain. “I don’t talk about the past anymore.”

  He nodded. “I understand that.”

  And she believed he did. Probably better than most. She suspected his past was something he rarely revisited. Except for Bart McCarthy.

  He glanced down at his wristwatch and sighed. “Another hour before we dock. And when we get there, if you want to turn around and go back to Winter Falls, I’ll understand that, too.”

  “What?”

  “Bart was shot. The threat against Jeremy—it has to be linked. I brought this danger to you.”

  She managed a short, bitter chuckle. “You don’t think I suspected that?”

  “But the danger might be greater in Milwaukee, Sarah.”

  “You said you’d protect us, Royce. You’ve proven that. As I told you earlier, I’m not getting rid of you.”

  He sighed, guilt churning in his pale-brown eyes. “I didn’t make you any promises, Sarah.”

  “I know.” But maybe she didn’t need promises from a man like Royce. His actions spoke louder.

  “I told you he’s in a coma, Sarah. What I didn’t tell you is that the doctors doubt he’ll come out of it.”

  She studied his handsome face, the bandage stark white against the fall of his dark-gold hair and tanned skin. Tension lines bracketed his sensual lips and furrowed his brow. “But you think they’re wrong. You wouldn’t have come to find me if you thought it wouldn’t matter to him.”

  “Maybe I’m selfish. Maybe I did it for me. Maybe I risked your life and Jeremy’s for some selfish desire of my own.”

  She’d believe it of another man but not Royce Graham. Perhaps she’d bought into his legend, too. But she doubted press reports had anything to do with her opinion of Royce. “You haven’t risked our lives. You’re not the one making the threats.”

  Frustration erupted in Royce’s eyes, sparks flying. “How many times do I have to tell you, this isn’t a coincidence?”

  “I don’t believe that either. Not really, but still, there’s no proof…”

  He turned toward the small table behind him and rifled through his duffel bag atop it. The muscles rippled across his broad back, gleaming under the bare skin. Sarah wanted to go to him, wanted to wrap her arms around him and slide her lips over all that naked skin.

  “I have proof, Sarah.”

  Royce’s deep voice tingled in her belly. She crossed her legs and tried to banish the memory of his naked chest pressing against her breasts.

  “Royce…”

  “And here’s how I know.” He turned toward her and held out his hand. In the wide, rough palm, which only a short while ago had cupped her breast, lay a wooden object wrapped in one of her handkerchiefs.

  “What is it?”

  “It’s a pocketknife I made for…well, that I gave to Bart. He treasured this. Kept it locked in his safe with his other valuables once it had begun to wear.”

  Her heart softened as warmth flowed through her. “That’s sweet. He sounds like a very nice man.”

  “I found this on the beach below your house, near where the boat had been pulled ashore. Bart was shot during a robbery at his house. The burglars had cleaned out the safe, taking this with them.” He re-wrapped the knife and shoved it into the pocket of his jeans.

  He’d used little emotion in his delivery, as if reciting the facts from a police report. Nothing personal. As if he talked about strangers.

  But she felt his pain and his guilt. And she cursed herself for ever doubting his integrity. Hollowness yawned within her where a fire had burned a short while ago.

  “I have to speak to the captain.” Royce brushed a hand through his tousled hair. “I need a copy of all the license plates of the vehicles that boarded in Winter Falls. And I need to know which of those vehicles had a fishing boat.”

&nbs
p; Whatever he’d kept from her, he was serious about keeping Jeremy safe. But still Sarah struggled with trusting him. Even though she refused to think about the past, it continued to affect her.

  SARAH HAD SAID little since they’d left the stateroom where they’d nearly made love. Desire crashed over Royce again. Her silky skin, her full breasts…her passionate kisses. He’d been a fool to stop, but he would have been a bastard to accept her trust when he hadn’t earned it.

  When he’d first told her about Bart, he should have told her about the breakin and the shooting. If he had, he doubted she would ever have boarded the ferry to leave Winter Falls. Then she never would have taken a swim in the cold lake, barely surviving….

  He glanced out the windows of the control room and shivered at the sight of the cresting waves. If he hadn’t found her…if the rescue crew hadn’t arrived when it had…

  Thank God for the instincts that had sent him searching for her.

  His gaze skipped over to Jeremy, to his golden head pressed close to his mother’s flaming red one. Jeremy had no father; he couldn’t afford to lose his mother.

  His cell phone jangled. He’d only called the Winter Falls sheriff’s department a short while ago, surprised when Dylan had answered the phone. He’d immediately asked why the sheriff wasn’t at his wife’s bedside.

  “She’s doing well and resting now,” Dylan had said with a heavy sigh of relief. “And I’m short a deputy.”

  “What?” Royce had asked.

  “Deputy Jones is MIA.”

  Had Royce been right? Had the young deputy been bribed into helping the would-be kidnappers?

  Royce hadn’t wasted any time on discussing his theory with the sheriff but had related the list of license plate numbers to be run through the Department of Motor Vehicles. Then he’d added one comment, “Thanks for sending Sheriff Buck.”

  The older man had been a godsend in keeping the suspicious kid occupied. The two had played chess in the locked stateroom the entire time Royce and Sarah had fought to stay alive in the icy water.

  He shivered, wondering if he’d ever be warm again. Then he remembered Sarah, nearly naked in his arms, and heat flashed through his suddenly tense body.

  “I know it wasn’t necessary,” Dylan had said. “You promised to protect them with your life, but Jeremy’s my nephew.”

  “I know.” Only minutes ago Royce had hung up the phone after that conversation, and now it rang again.

  “That was fast,” he spoke into the cell phone.

  “Not fast enough.” His father’s dry voice cracked with rare emotion.

  A breath caught in Royce’s chest, causing an ache. “Bart’s dead?”

  “Not yet. But the doctors say it won’t be long now.”

  “If he can hang on just a while longer…” He glanced over at Sarah and her son. Was it fair to risk Jeremy’s safety to fulfill an old man’s dying wish?

  “You don’t need to bring her. Hell, you don’t need to come yourself. He hasn’t come out of the coma.” Donald Graham coughed, but the ruse didn’t cover the break in his voice. “I thought you’d want to know.”

  His father broke the connection. Again. With a shaking hand, Royce shoved the phone back into his pocket.

  Sarah turned from the view of the Wisconsin shoreline, and her gaze collided with his, her eyes smoky with secrets. What was she to Bart McCarthy that the man had asked for her? And would she fulfill his wish to see her, or did she prefer to return to the safety of Winter Falls? He wouldn’t blame her if she did.

  She said something to the retired sheriff, who wrapped an arm around Jeremy’s shoulders. Then she crossed the control room to Royce.

  His conscience turned into a hammer again, pounding on the base of his skull, or else the painkiller had worn off. “Jeremy enjoying the trip?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “He’s too smart. He knows something’s going on. I’m going to have to tell him about the threats.” A sigh rippled from her throat, and her gray eyes clouded with fear.

  “No, you don’t.”

  “I’ve always promised that I’d never lie to him. By keeping this from him, I’ve broken that promise.” Distressed, she bit her bottom lip, her teeth sinking into the fleshy curve that his tongue had slid over just a short while ago.

  He groaned. “I’m sorry, Sarah. I shouldn’t have come looking for you. Whoever robbed and shot Bart, they must not want you to see him.”

  “You think these threats were just to scare me away from Milwaukee? To make me not want to go with you?”

  He nodded. The idea had occurred to him. “It’s a possibility.”

  One of a few. In the distance, the Wisconsin shoreline glittered under the midday sun. He sighed. “Doesn’t matter anymore. That was my father who just called. Bart’s slipping away now.”

  Gentle fingers stroked over his forearm. “I’m sorry, Royce.”

  “I’m sorry, too, Sarah. All this was for nothing.”

  “No. You believed I’d bring him out of the coma.”

  “Yeah, I did.”

  “Well, let’s see if I can.”

  “Sarah, I told you…”

  “I know what you told me. I was a nurse for a long time, Royce. I’ve seen my share of miracles. I know doctors don’t know everything. And I trust your instincts. They saved my life. We’ll go with you to Milwaukee.”

  “But the threats…”

  Pride glinted in her gray eyes as she tipped up her chin. “…aren’t going to scare me away from doing what’s right.”

  Admiration for her courage struck his heart. “Sarah, you know whoever’s behind everything is probably already back in Milwaukee, is probably someone close to Bart.”

  And he’d find out who they were, damn them.

  “You’ll keep us safe.”

  How had he gained her trust? Panic crashed over him like the waves striking the shore. He didn’t deserve it.

  He had taken the game too far. He’d risked too much on a gamble that an old man would hang on to life for a while longer. He risked a young boy’s safety.

  Self-loathing left a bitter taste in his mouth that even butterscotch candy wouldn’t wash away.

  Chapter Eight

  Royce stepped off the elevator with one arm around Jeremy’s thin shoulders and another around Sarah’s squared ones. Her pointed chin thrust toward the ceiling, and her porcelain face bore no expression.

  Her pride had conquered her fear. Whatever awaited her, Sarah would face with courage.

  “Did you shut off your cell phone?” She withdrew a platinum flip phone, touched a button and dropped it back inside her bag.

  Reaching into the pocket of his jean jacket, he pressed the power button. A tinkle of bells signaled his phone’s inoperative state.

  Her heels clicked against the tiles as they walked down the ICU corridor. The noise brought up the slumped heads of the two men leaning against the wall outside the ward.

  His stomach knotted. Had they arrived too late? He’d driven as fast as he’d dared.

  His father’s weary blue gaze met his. Surprise flickered.

  Why was he always so surprised when Royce came when he said he would? Disappointment settled heavily in Royce’s heart. His father glanced at Sarah, then did a double take. Shock paled his face. “She looks like…”

  The other man slid trembling hands off his face. Alan McCarthy straightened away from the wall. “She looks like my mother. Who is this, Royce?”

  “Sarah Mars.” And apparently a McCarthy. No wonder Bart had wanted to find her. And no wonder even that grainy newspaper photo of Sarah had struck a chord of familiarity with him. He’d seen Maggie McCarthy in the picture Bart kept on his desk. Reminded of it now, he knew there was a striking resemblance between the two women despite the generations that separated them.

  “You found her as my father asked.”

  Royce nodded, emotion clogging his throat. He cleared it, a jagged piece of butterscotch candy sliding down the back of it. “
Is he…”

  “He hung in there, Royce.” Alan blinked away tears. “He waited for you. For her.”

  A small sound emanated from Sarah. He couldn’t decipher its meaning. Distress? Now she could harbor no doubt that she was the woman Bart wanted to see, and she knew why. She was related somehow, even looked like a woman long dead. “Sarah, this is Alan McCarthy.”

  Her breath caught, but she steadied herself. “Mr. McCarthy, I’m sorry we had to meet…under these circumstances.”

  Royce admired her grace when she must be screaming inside for answers about Bart McCarthy and the threats against her child.

  “And this is her son, Jeremy.”

  Jeremy blinked bright eyes at the strangers. He’d fallen asleep in the back of the SUV, still ignorant of the threats against him. Sarah hadn’t had time to tell him yet; Royce wondered if she still intended to.

  Donald Graham vibrated with impatience. “Now’s not the time for introductions. He’s still alive, but he’s fading fast. If you want to see him one last time, get in there, boy!” He barked the order.

  “And my father, Donald Graham.”

  The old man flushed. “Royce…”

  He shrugged, then escorted Sarah toward the door to Bart McCarthy’s room. He hesitated over bringing Jeremy inside, too, but he was more hesitant about letting the kid out of his sight. “Can…”

  “Only two at a time,” his father called out. “The boy can wait with us.”

  Royce shook his head. “You know I love breaking rules. And Bart would like to see him, too, don’t you think?”

  The old man flung up his hands and whirled around, muttering something about coffee.

  Sarah’s gaze burned Royce’s face, anger sparking in her smoky eyes.

  He should have asked first. “Is it okay for Jeremy to go inside?”

  “I thought this guy only wanted to see you, Mom,” the boy said.

  Sarah bit her lip, probably realizing that if she were a relative, then so was Jeremy. “Robert often had bad spells where he was infirm. Jeremy’s used to hospitals.”

  And she’d stayed by her husband’s side. Waiting for him to die so she’d get the money? Or caring for him? He wanted to believe the first to save himself from falling for her, but his heart clung to the latter because of what she’d already come to mean to him. Too much.