The burning she saw in his eyes gave her momentary pause, a burning that singed her to her fingertips. But was the heat really there? she wondered, or was she seeing something she wanted to see?
“I also decided against giving SwanSea to the government or the state.” Her lips twisted wryly. “The truth is, I’m selfish. The romantic side of me wants always to be able to call SwanSea home, to come and stay whenever I want, to have a part in its future; and hopefully in the years ahead, my children will take over for me. The practical side of me wants to see that SwanSea is preserved, but preserved in such a way that it’s not simply another sideshow or an empty monument. By turning it into a resort, I'll be able to control what happens to it for as long as I live.” She stopped, no longer able to doubt the expression in Nico’s dark brown eyes. The look was a sensual wanting that left her weak.
“You’re quite a lady, Caitlin Deverell,” he said softly. “Romantic and practical. You’ve figured out how to safeguard and protect the house and, at the same time, how to give it back its life.”
“SwanSea deserves loving attention. This is a gracious house, and I want to give other people the opportunity to come to know SwanSea the way I do, to stay here for however long they can, to rest, to draw energy from its atmosphere, to love and be happy within its walls. ”
He gave a short laugh, attempting to break free of the web of desire that bound him tighter with her every word, his every breath. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m seeing the house now. When it opens, I probably wouldn’t be able to afford to stay.”
She frowned, taking his lighthearted words seriously. “I wish we weren’t going to have to charge so much, but I’m afraid the value of SwanSea’s contents along with the high costs for renovation, insurance, upkeep, and staff dictate high prices. The resort will be very exclusive, but that’s the compromise I’ve had to make to accomplish the things I want.” Suddenly a puzzled look came over her face. “What do you mean you couldn’t afford to stay here. What about DiFrenza’s?”
"My family’s business, not mine.” He gave her a smile meant to divert. “I forgot to ask how much you’re going to charge me, didn’t I?”
Feeling a warmth in the pit of her stomach, she returned his smile. “Yes, but I wouldn’t worry about It. With SwanSea so far from being finished, I can guarantee your bill will be very affordable.”
“You have quite a task in front of you.”
“It’s a labor of love. SwanSea Is one of the best surviving examples of Art Nouveau In America. Everything, from the design of the house to the door handles, panelings and moldings creates a unity.” Suddenly she had to swallow against a dry throat. Unable to go on any further, even about a subject she loved so much, she sat back, aroused, excited, and unsettled. She was used to the passion she felt for her birthplace, but the turbulence Nico had created within her was something she wasn’t sure how to cope with. She tried again. “I’m really sorry you’re not seeing the house at its best. You’ll have to promise to come back when the restoration and renovations are completed.” She gave a husky, uncertain laugh. “I'll give you a special rate.”
He heard her uncertainty and understood she was drawn to him. He had far too much experience not to know that with a little effort he could have her. He shifted restlessly in his chair. The idea played with his mind, seducing him.
He brought his thoughts to a halt. If there was one thing he’d learned over the years, it was that hardly anything was simple and straightforward or what it seemed. Caitlin obviously hadn’t learned that lesson yet, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about being the one to teach her. There was an openness and a warmhearted quality about her—the complete opposite of himself.
Damn this edginess, he thought angrily. Coming here had seemed like the perfect plan. “I think I’d better call it a night.”
It was a shock for Caitlin to realize she didn’t want Nico to go. In her twenty-six years, she’d been through the normal ups and downs with men that most women of her age experience. But the strong, instant response to him was unique. He had made no advances to her, but a look from him was as potent as a kiss from any other man she’d known. Involuntarily, her gaze was drawn to his lips. They were strong and firm, and he would know exactly how to use them on a woman. “I’ll go up with you, to make sure you have everything you need.”
He closed his eyes against the sight of her, but he couldn’t close down the functioning of his brain, and his imagination sprang into overdrive. What would it be like to reach across the table, pull her onto its top, and climb over and into her? Heaven, his body told him. Heaven.
He stood so quickly he bumped the table. The plates rattled, and an empty glass toppled over, then rolled off the table and crashed to the floor. The sound of the shattering glass was earsplitting in an atmosphere of aroused senses. “It’s not necessary to come up with me. I have what I need, and I can find my own way."
Disappointed, she walked around the table and reached for his plate.
“I’ll get it,” he murmured and brushed her hand as he too reached for the plate.
Her gaze locked with his, and for a moment, Caitlin forgot everything but the strange aching need in her. “I’m just trying to help, Nico.”
Lord, but her eyes were beautiful, he thought, even with the slight glint of hurt he saw in them. “I know,” he whispered and wondered why he felt he was fighting the inevitable. He lifted his hand, intending to touch her cheek, but quickly dropped it to his side before he could brush the inviting softness. “It’s just that I’m not used to being waited on.”
“You live alone then?” It was a question she should have asked sooner. But then again, she couldn’t believe his heart could belong to another—not with the hungry way he looked at her.
“Yes.” He wasn’t sure, but he didn’t think he’d ever wanted to kiss a woman as badly as he wanted to kiss Caitlin. To lick, bite, and taste her until he was sated. To take her, fill her, empty himself into her. And then do it again.
The tantalizing scent of her skin floated into his brain, momentarily blocking caution. This time he touched her as he lightly stroked his fingers across one bare shoulder. Velvet. The urge to crawl inside her scented velvet skin was almost overpowering.
He closed his hand around her arm and pulled her against him. Everywhere her soft, curving body touched his, he felt heat. A muscle clenched in his jaw. He was going to take her.
In the next instant, he released her, unsure why.
Sanity. Training. A sense of self-preservation.
Whatever the reason, he was intensely grateful— and fiercely disappointed. “Good night, Caitlin.”
“Good night.”
A few minutes later, in his room, he carefully settled himself on the bed and covered his eyes with his forearm. Maybe if he couldn’t see, he wouldn’t be able to think. And if he couldn’t think, he wouldn’t be able to remember. But his senses were working overtime, and he could still feel her skin against his fingertips.
Damn whatever this thing was between him and Caitlin. Something in him ignited whenever he came near her, and she obviously felt the same way. It was almost as if each of them had exactly the right elements within them to strike sparks off each other. But sparks led to fire, and fire led to danger.
Slowly he lowered his arm. He couldn’t let anything happen between them. No matter how much he wanted it. No matter how much she wanted it.
He was in no position to get involved with anyone right now, much less Caitlin Deverell. He just had to keep reminding himself: Caitlin wasn’t the reason he was here.
And when the pain came and he couldn't sleep, he told himself it was from his wounds, not from wanting her.
Two
Lord, how she’d wanted Nico to kiss her last night, Caitlin remembered as she left the elevator on the first floor the next morning. She’d wanted it so much that when he’d told her good-night, she’d felt as if he’d inflicted a wound deep within her.
Nice going, Caitlin,
she told herself, and so much for all your caution. She clicked her tongue in disgust. She should have saved herself a lot of time and trouble and agreed to let him stay as soon as he’d asked her the first time. And then, after all her turmoil, she’d spent most of her night trying to put yesterday and Nico DiFrenza into perspective.
She’d been spectacularly unsuccessful.
All her instincts were telling her that there was more to him than met the eye. Secrets. Parts that he wasn’t showing. But deep inside, she felt a powerful pull toward him that she didn’t understand and couldn’t seem to fight.
A new feeling sparkled inside her, a feeling that was part excitement, part dread. She felt as if she were holding a hand grenade, and she wasn’t sure who held the pin: she or Nico.
She sighed loudly, unaware that more them one stare followed her, curious at her unusual selfabsorption. She felt nothing but impatience with the day’s work that awaited her, but her list of things to do was long, and the first order of business was to speak with her foreman. She found him supervising several workers in the main drawing room. A huge room, it involved painstaking work to restore the original Art Nouveau style of the elegant swirling movements In the wood, metal, and marble surfaces. “How are things going, Mr. Haines?”
“Fine, Mistress Caty. Just fine.”
His response brought her back to the reality at hand, and she hid a smile. Jeb Haines, a tall mam with steel-blue eyes and a shock of gray hair tucked under a cap, had lived all his life in the small town five miles beyond the gates of SwanSea. Like so many of the men who were working here now, he had known her almost from the first day of her life. Mistress Caty had been his pet name for her, and he was a man set in his ways. But she didn’t mind. The continuity of SwanSea and the people around it comforted her. “No problems?”
“Not any more than what you’d normally expect.” He squinted at a young man perched high on a ladder, who was methodically and patiently stripping away several layers of varnish from the carved molding. “You take care up there, Richie. That molding was here before you were bom, and if you treat it right, it’ll be here after you’re gone, too.”
Richie threw the older man a grin. “You worry too much. Morning, Miss Deverell.”
“Morning, Richie.” She turned back to Jeb Haines. “He’s right. You do wony too much. But I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the conscientious work you’re doing.”
He lifted his hat, smoothed his hair, and replaced the hat. “Well now, I guess I do worry. But you know, this house is one of my earliest memories. I was a young boy during the times of your grandfather, Jake, God rest his soul. And your grandmother, Arabella—my, my, but she was a high-spirited lady. Me and my friends all had crushes on her, and we weren’t the only ones, let me tell you. ”
Caitlin grinned. “That’s what I’ve heard.”
“Well, you heard right. And this house fairly glittered when they lived here. You can’t see the house from town, but we used to make up all sorts of reasons to come down the road and have a look. 'Course, eventually the house was closed up, but I still loved to look at it. It was like as long as it was here, everything was all right. You know what I mean?”
“I know,” she said softly.
“Then when we were building the church—oh, that must have been about twenty-five, twenty-six years ago now—I could see the house from the roof. What a sight that was.”
“It must have been,” she said, wondering fondly why Jeb Haines had missed the news that New Englanders were supposed to be taciturn. She glanced £tt her watch. “Conrad Gilbert will be here in about an hour,” she said, naming the architect who was working with her on the restoration and conversion of the house. “Can you join us?”
“Just tell me where.”
“Probably one of the second-floor sitting rooms. I’ll come get you.” She paused. “By the way, have you seen a tall black-haired man this morning?”
“Sure have. Said he was staying here.”
“That’s right.”
“I think I saw him going into the study.”
“Thank you. ”
As she strolled slowly toward the study, she told herself that there was no earthly reason why she should be seeking out Nlco. As a matter of fact, there were probably several reasons why she shouldn’t. But disturbingly erotic thoughts of him had kept her tossing and turning all night. She’d never seen that particular combination of danger, physical weakness, and compelling power in a man before. She wanted to see him, to be near him, now.
Knowing very well that she should stay away, she went to him anyway.
She opened the study door and discovered Nico bent over the big desk. When he looked up and saw her, he closed a drawer.
A troubled line creased her brow as she gazed at Nico. With his self-assurance and inherent poise, he seemed to belong behind the desk with its commanding, rhythmic lines and its rich, exotic citron wood. And yet she couldn't shake the sense that he’d been searching for something. “What are you doing?”
With the manner of someone completely worry-free, he straightened and eased a hip down onto the desktop. “Good morning. I expected to see you in the kitchen when I came down, but Ramona told me you usually skipped breakfast.”
“Ramona? You’ve met Ramona?”
“Terrifying lady.”
“Terrifying?” Did he really mean that? Ramona had worked for her mother for twenty-four years, and never in all that time had she been frightened of her.
"She wouldn’t let me cook. When I tried to insist, she threatened to bring me breakfast in bed tomorrow.”
“Yes, I can see why that would terrify you.” She spoke slowly, distractedly. Though his words seemed easy, unforced, she still couldn’t help but feel something wasn’t quite right.
He shrugged. “I gave in and let her prepare my breakfast.”
She crossed the vast expanse of parquet floor to the front of the desk. “What are you doing in here, Nico?”
One dark brow rose. “Oh, I’m sorry. Is this off limits?”
“No, of course not.” She looked around the room. The morning sun heightened the golden tones of the furniture, the paneling, and the floor. The overall effect was one of harmony and warmth. She felt neither of those things, but couldn’t explain her unease.
Nico cursed silently. Her obvious disquiet at finding him riffling through the desk made guilt twist uncomfortably through him. Guilt was a new emotion to him. He didn’t like it, and in this situation, it could be extremely bad. “You don’t have a pen I could borrow, do you? I was writing a letter to my great-grandmother, and mine ran out of ink.” He walked to a chair and side table by a window and picked up the pen lying across a piece of stationery half-filled with writing. He scratched the pen in circles over the paper, but no ink came out. “I thought maybe there might be a pen in the desk.”
Caitlin let out a sigh of relief and hoped he hadn’t noticed. How stupid of her to jump to the wrong conclusion. “I don’t know about a pen, but there are probably crayons in the desk. I used to spend hours there, drawing pictures.”
“What kind of pictures?”
She laughed. “Badly drawn pictures, I can assure you. And to answer your question, no, I don’t have a pen, but I keep some in the kitchen. I started out working in my bedroom, then the paper work spilled over into the kitchen. Yesterday, Ramona told me bluntly that I was crowding her out." She laughed lightly. “Ill be moving everything in here tomorrow.” He nodded while carefully phrasing his next words. “I couldn’t help but notice the desk was pretty empty. ...”
“The desk hasn’t been used for business in years. All of Jake and Edward’s personal papers are stored away.”
“Here in the house?”
“For the most part. Just more things I have to go through.” She drew a deep breath. Her earlier suspicions had prevented the awkwardness she’d expected after last night. But now she was suddenly uncertain what to say next. “How are you this morning? Did you rest well?”<
br />
She was wearing a sleeveless, white, curve-skimming shift that ended above her knees and made the ivory hue of her skin, the green-gold of her eyes, and the cinnamon shade of her hair more vivid, more desirable. “I slept very well,” he lied smoothly. “As a matter of fact, I thought I’d take a walk in a little while. ” What he heard himself say next shocked him. “Could you come with me?”
She hesitated and glanced at her watch. “I have a meeting in about an hour. After that, I’m free.”
He told himself that it was only practical to ask her to join him on the walk. For instance, she might drop some small bit of information that he would find useful. “Why don’t we meet In the kitchen? Ramona more or less ordered me to come back at about one for lunch. If I don’t show up, I’m afraid to think what she might do.” His comment was lighthearted, but Caitlin was looking at him with eyes so wide and an expression so serious, he decided he had to smile or kiss her.
His slow smile made her pulse race. Caitlin, Caitlin, what are you doing? she asked herself.
“Are you getting tired?" she asked, interrupting what she’d been telling him about her plans to convert the carriage house into a guest house.
“No, actually I’m feeling much better than yesterday. It must be the sea air and my ocean view.”
She laughed as he had intended. He enjoyed watching her laugh. And he enjoyed watching the way the sun seemed to touch her skin with a gentle golden color. And he just plain enjoyed watching her. It bothered him like hell.
She waved to two gardeners. “In Edward’s day, there were over a hundred acres of gardens, all extensively landscaped. It wouldn’t be feasible, though, for me to try to reclaim all of the land. Besides, I like the new thickets of pines that have grown up and the meadows of wild flowers that you find in the spring. But at least part of the grounds are on their way back to how they were in Edward’s time.”
The Legacy Page 3
