The Legacy

by Fayrene Preston

  “Oh?”

  His composure faltered only slightly in the face of her obvious coolness. “I wanted to personally thank you for allowing me to stay at SwanSea. I plan to thank Ramona too, of course.”

  She glanced over his shoulder to the cliff and Nico, then looked back at him. “Then you’re leaving?” "Yes, I’m afraid I have to. I’ll pack tonight and start out in the morning, but I probably won’t see you again before I go. ”

  She didn’t know whether Nico was still suspicious of Quinn, but his leaving was probably best. Still, she was curious. “Do you plan to continue your vacation somewhere else?”

  “I think I’ve had enough vacation for a while. I need to get on with my retirement plans—decide what I’m going to do with the rest of my life.”

  She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes. “You know, you really don’t look old enough to retire.” Without waiting for her to offer her hand, he reached out and took it. “Thank you. That’s a very nice compliment, but I’m ready to retire, believe me. And I just want to say that It was a pleasure meeting you. You’re a lovely young woman. Good-bye, Caitlin.” “Good-bye.” She stared after him, wondering why she felt disturbed about his leaving. She felt the warmth of Nico’s body behind her and turned to look up at him. “Quinn says he’s going in the morning. Did he tell you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well? Tell me what happened. What did you find out about him?”

  “I was wrong. He’s not a problem or a threat to us.”

  Her gaze strayed in the direction Quinn had gone. Something about him troubled her, but she didn’t know what. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “But what about the timing of his other stay here?” “He said himself he couldn’t remember exactly. He must have been mistaken about the church.”

  “I suppose that’s possible. That was a long time ago, and he’s apparently traveled much of the world. He’s bound to have seen a lot of churches.”

  He made an abrupt gesture with his hand. “Well, at any rate, I’m not worried about Quinn anymore, but I am still worried about Rettig. I need to leave, Caitlin.”

  “Oh, no.” She reached out for him. Her hand found the solid strength of his chest. “Please don’t go.”

  He covered her hand with his. “I have to, Caitlin.

  If Rettig knows where I am, my leaving will draw him away from here and you. If he doesn’t know, it will eliminate the possibility that hell find out.”

  He was a man accustomed to action and danger, she thought, but she wasn’t. She loved him, and the thought that someone wanted to hurt him was unbearable. “I’m afraid for you.”

  He smiled with understanding. She’d never be afraid for herself. “I’ll be safer away from here, Caitlin. If I stayed, my main concern would be you.” “Instead of watching out for yourself. ”

  He nodded. He knew from the resignation in her voice that he’d given her the one argument she wouldn’t try to take apart.

  Her shoulders slumped. “Then I guess I’ll have to let you go, won’t I?”

  He drew her to him until he could feel her soft curves against him. “We’re going to be all right, Caitlin. I promise you. We’re going to be all right.” The wind took his words, mixed them with the sound of the sea, and carried them up to the cloud that drifted across the sun and shadowed SwanSea.

  Eight

  Caitlin held a match to the wick of the last tall cream-colored candle. When the flame burned steadily, she turned.

  Nico lay waiting for her on the bed. The pale white-gold light flowed over the muscular angles and planes of his masculine nudity, giving his skin the texture of velvet and muting the two red scars on his left side.

  “Don’t come back to me with any more scars,” she whispered.

  “I won’t." He studied the way the candlelight behind her shone through the gold of her long silk gown, outlining her shape, making her appear at once dreamlike and incredibly desirable. “You’re beautiful.”

  “I’m serious, Nico.”

  “Does that mean you wouldn't want me to come back to you if I happened to take another bullet?”

  “I couldn’t bear it.”

  “What?”

  “If you didn’t come back to me.” Her strained voice betrayed the fragile state of her nerves.

  In one fluid motion, he rose from the bed and went to her, framing her face between his hands. “Ill come back, Caitlin. There aren’t enough bullets in the world to stop me.”

  “Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  He drew her to the bed and down to the satin coverlet until they lay side by side.

  “Do you believe me?” he asked, smoothing her hair away from her face.

  “Yes.”

  “From this moment on, the things I tell you will always be the truth. I will never intentionally hurt you. I will never lie to you.”

  She reached out and touched his face, then let her fingers slowly drift down the hard length of his arm to entwine with his. “I’m going to miss you so much.” “We won’t be apart long—that’s another promise. I have the feeling that this case is close to being solved. I feel it.” He lifted their joined hands to his mouth, kissed the back of her fingertips, then laid her hand between them so that he could push the gold-silk strap from her shoulder. The gown loosened from her breast, and he brushed his fingers across the tops of the high flesh. “So soft,” he murmured.

  Heat trembled through her. “I didn’t think it was possible to want someone the way I want you.”

  His eyes glittered with a dark fire, and he bent his head to suck a silk-covered nipple to life. His loins ached for her, as did his heart. But now was for finding new ways to make love to her, for driving himself inside her until he couldn’t think, couldn’t hear, couldn't see—then beginning again. Now was the time for making love to her until she asked him to stop. She’d never done that, he prayed she never would.

  He pulled and tugged at the nipple with a gentle, persistent ferocity until she writhed against him, mindlessly, helplessly.

  There was a thundering in her brain, a fire low in her belly. She reached between them to grasp him and heard him draw in a ragged breath. With a delicate pressure, she stroked his length. His hands clenched the sheets, but he said nothing. She continued experimenting, learning the pressure that would make him groan aloud, the caressing touch that would make him roll his head from side to side against the pillow.

  It was a time of heated enchantment for her. But soon his body drew taut, and she heard thickly spoken words rumble up from his chest. “You’d better stop.”

  “I don’t want to stop. I like the feel of you.” The pad of her finger found a particularly interesting spot and lingered.

  “Ah ...” His body jerked. “Lord, Caitlin!” He took her wrist, stilling the excruciating and wondrous motion of her hand. “I can make you stop,” he said raggedly.

  “By holding my wrist?”

  “No.”

  She felt him slip his hands beneath her gown and touch her in a knowing, caressing way that soon had her moving against him once again, this time more urgently. He’d turned the tables on her.

  “You’re amazing,” she said, gasping. “Magical. You make me bum . . . want . . . instantly, with just a touch.”

  “That’s good.” He slid his finger over her moist soft flesh—rubbing, pressing.

  “Yes.” Her heart was pumping so hard she was barely able to breathe. “That’s good . . . very good . . . and it’s bad.”

  “Bad?” He kissed her neck, then closed his teeth around her earlobe and nibbled. “Surely not.”

  His breath was hot on her skin, fueling the flames rising within her. “Yes. Bad because you make me hurt so much for you. I get to the point where I'll do anything to have you inside me.”

  With fraying control, he glided his fingers into her.

  She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of hundreds of pleasures that throbbed, tingled, a
nd pulsed.

  “Are you at that point yet?” he asked, his mouth against her ear.

  “Yes,” she whispered in an agony of desire. “Oh, Nico, yes!”

  “And what will you do?”

  Her green-gold eyes were alight with an inner fever as she opened them and looked up at him. “Whatever you want.”

  A hard shudder ripped through him. "You don’t have to do a thing. I’ll take care of everything.” Holding her tightly, he rolled onto his back and lifted her over him. His strong arms supported her weight as she positioned herself and then slowly, softly slid down over him meausre by measure until they were completely joined. A hoarse sound of satisfaction wrenched from his chest.

  Above him, Caitlin shifted, maneuvering him deeper inside her. Already she could feel herself beginning to pulse toward the brink of release, and she began to move. But his hands flexed tightly on her buttocks, forcing her to a slower rhythm, guiding her to rock against him, to make circling movements with her hips.

  She tilted her head back and moaned, feeling as though the pleasure might split her apart. Both straps had dropped off her shoulder, and the top of her gold-silk gown had slipped down to the very edge of her nipples, barely covering the tips of the tight rosepeaks.

  Looking up at her, Nico’s breath caught at the incredibly erotic picture she made. Gold silk, ivory skin, cinnamon hair—surrounded by white-gold light. The sight almost pushed him over the edge, but with superhuman strength and resolve, he pulled back.

  She could feel the moment for which she yearned approaching. She leaned down to him so that her hands were braced on either side of him. Her nipples broke free of the gown and pressed into the thick black hair of his chest. Her hair fell like an exotic concealing veil around them. “You feel like hard, hot satin inside me,” she whispered.

  Her words set him on fire, and the start of the tiny inner convulsions of the muscles surrounding him stole away his sanity. He pushed high into her and surrendered himself to the night, the candlelight, and her.

  The mist began to lift from the sea at dawn. Nico observed the scene from the balcony of his bedroom. In a little while he would wake Caitlin and say goodbye. For now, though, he was content to watch the day appear little by little.

  He didn’t want to leave.

  It was a given that he didn’t want to say good-bye to Caitlin; every minute he spent away from her would be painful.

  What surprised him was the realization that he was going to hate to leave SwanSea. He’d come to know all its odd little quirks, all its nooks and crannies, all the personalities the house could convey. He’d grown accustomed to this view—the rolling green lawn, the cliffs, the sea, the island, the boats ... Hell. He was being ridiculous. How could you miss a house?

  He’d feel better about leaving if he knew exactly what was going on with Rettig. If Rettig knew he was here at SwanSea, why hadn’t he tried something? And if Rettig didn’t know, then what the hell were his men doing in the area?

  Nico frowned. Through the thinning mist he could just make out the island. The Island. Suddenly, something in his mind clicked. “Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered softly. “So that’s what they’re doing.”

  It was all so simple. The fishing boats that rode low in the water had no seagulls following them because their load was not fish. They carried something heavy to mask the fact that they also carried cocaine. Rettig had to be using the island as a dropping-off place for the drugs. His Canadian connections would come down and pick them up.

  His adrenalin surged, sending his heart pumping at a furiously excited pace. He’d bet his seat on the board of DiFrenza’s that he was right. As sure as he was about this, though, he knew what he had at the moment was only a theory. Up to this point, he hadn’t been able to make any charges stick to Rettig. This time he would get absolute proof.

  With one last glance at the island, he left the balcony to return to the bedroom and Caitlin. Perching on the side of the bed, he leaned over her and rained kisses over her smooth warm face.

  Coming up from a cloud of sleep, she smiled softly. “It’s nice being kissed awake,” she murmured huskily.

  “It’s tolerable from my perspective too.”

  Her eyes slowly opened. “Good morning.”

  “Good morning." He kissed her, gently, lingeringly. She blinked sleepily as he drew away. “Is it morning, by the way?”

  “All the signs are pointing to it: sun, blue sky—” She groaned and threw her arm over her eyes. “That means you’re leaving. ”

  He pulled her arm away from her face, chuckling. “I’ve changed my mind. ”

  “What?” she asked, her eyes flying open. “Really?” He nodded. “I’ve come up with a theory that requires my presence here. Besides, I’d feel better being here, protecting you.”

  He pulled back, and she pushed herself up, arranging the pillows behind her. “Why would you think I’m in danger?”

  “There’s a possibility that I didn't want to mention to you yesterday. Instead of trying for me and possibly failing, Rettig’s men might take you hostage and use you against me. I’ve asked Rill to send men up to protect you. Now I’ll tell him not to. ”

  “I don’t need protecting. ”

  “Maybe you don’t,” he said softly, stroking her arm, “but I look at you, and everything in me wants to watch over you. And what’s more, I don’t see that instinct ever going away. I’m sorry.”

  She touched his face. “What’s going on, Nico?” “Rettig,” he said succinctly. “I think I’ve finally figured what his men are doing here. The island.” “SwanSea’s island?”

  He nodded. “They’re using the fishing industry of the area as a cover and the island as a drop-off and pick-up point. They fill up their specially equipped boats with something heavy to make it look as if they have a full load and are through fishing for the day. But their main cargo is cocaine. They bring it up the coast, mingling in with the regular fishing boats whenever possible. Then they drop the drugs off at the island. Sometime later, probably the next moonless night, Rettig’s Canadian connections come down, load up their own boat, and take the stuff back to Canada. It’s been working like a charm. They just forgot one little thing: Seagulls aren’t attracted to weights. They should have thrown a few fish in, just for drill.”

  The idea of the island’s being used for drug running was disturbing but secondary compared to her concern for Nico. She searched his face for some sign of his intentions. “So you’re going to stay here and do what?”

  “Don’t worry, I don’t plan to do anything stupid. I’m just going to keep a closer eye on the island and see if I can pick up a pattern.”

  “Nico—”

  He touched her face. "Try to understand, Caitlin. I feel very proprietary toward Rettig. This is something I have to do. I started it, and I’m going to finish it.”

  “I understand what it’s like to have a burning drive to succeed at something. I think all the Deverells have it; it takes a different form in each of us. But my understanding doesn’t make it any easier for me to see you put your life on the line.”

  “Hey.” He leaned over her, forming a tent of warmth and strength over her with his body. “I thought I told you, nothing’s going to happen to me.”

  “You’re not bulletproof, Nico.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to decide what he could possibly say that would reassure her. In the end, he decided there was nothing. “I have to do this, Caitlin, and I have to do it my way.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” “Causing you pain or worry hurts me more than Rettig’s bullets did.”

  She slid her arms around his neck. “Don’t spend one more minute wonying about me. Because of my love for you, my worry is bearable.”

  She glowed with a beauty within, he thought, and if he lived to be a hundred, he’d never deserve her. “I want to make love to you. I need to feel you against me. I need to tty to make you forget, a least for a little w
hile, that you’re upset and hurting because of me.”

  “I need the very same thing,” she whispered.

  Ramona burst into the study where Caitlin was working, her face wreathed in a big smile. “Caitlin, your mother just drove up! Mr. Haines is out front helping her with her bags now. ”

  “Great!” Jumping to her feet, she threw her pen down and turned to Nico. “Now you can meet her.” Nico had been lounging in a chair near Caitlin’s desk, reading a biography of Winston Churchill. “I thought she was in Egypt.”

  “No, India. Now she’s here. ”

  “That’s Julia,” Ramona said fondly, backing out the door. “Are you two coming?”

  “Of course.”

  She held her hand toward Nico, and he had no choice but to go with her. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to meet Caitlin’s mother. He did. But he’d hoped to be able to put off their meeting until his problems had been settled and he was able to come down from his tightrope.

  Julia Deverell was just walking in the front door as they entered the grand hall. Caitlin broke away from Nico and ran across the marble floor.

  Julia threw her arms around her daughter, enveloping her in a hug and a cloud of Opium perfume. “Darling, it’s so wonderful to see you. How are you?”

  Caitlin drew away and gazed happily at her mother. She was as lovely as ever, her ash-brown hair falling to her shoulder in a stylishly casual fashion, her face free of any makeup, her slender figure clothed in a dark blue-silk tank top and a purple, blue, and turquoise peasant skirt. Sandals, an armful of clanky silver bracelets, and a beautiful large purple rope necklace completed the outfit. She never gave any thought to what she wore, Caitlin thought proudly, but she always looked sophisticated and elegant. “I’m terrific. How about you?”

  “Couldn’t be better, now that I’m back home with you. Ramona, how are you surviving the renovation?” Julia asked, bestowing a hug on the older woman.

  Ramona gave a dismissive shrug. “Caitlin’s doing all the work.”

  Julia smiled at her daughter. “I’m dying to see what you’ve done to the place so far.”