Escape To Love: Banished Saga, Book 6

by Ramona Flightner

  He laughed again. “As though you know of such places,” he teased. He eased her up and followed her to their bedroom. “Let me wash, and then I want to snuggle with my wife.” He ran a finger over her nose. “I promise, nothing more.”

  She nodded. “Good. I don’t sleep as well without you beside me.” His eyes shone with pleasure, and then he disappeared into the bathroom, while she settled in bed, awaiting him.

  Chapter 5

  “Are you sure we will be welcomed?” Genevieve asked.

  Lucas nodded as he offered her his elbow. “You said you wanted to live near family,” he teased.

  “I know, but, now that we’re here, I’m nervous.” She took a deep breath before looping her arm through his. “Who will be there?”

  “As far as I know, only my cousin and his wife. The rest don’t know we’re here yet.” He slowly walked through town, passing by a row of theaters brightly lit in the early evening.

  Finely dressed men and women walked on the sidewalks with them, turning into restaurants and stores. Many of the men wandered into their favorite bar. The sun had set early, and a dusky twilight was all that remained at five o’clock.

  He smiled at her. “I wanted to give you a little time to settle in as my wife before scaring you with everyone.”

  She flushed at his teasing.

  “Besides, no one knows we’re married yet. I didn’t write them, so they are unaware. Unless it made the papers somehow.” He maneuvered them around a pile of ash-covered snow and made their way down a residential street. “Here, I think this is it.” Her hand dropped from his elbow, and he clasped her hand, tugging her up the walkway behind him.

  He turned and winked at her. “I hope they’re not looking out the window, or they’ll think you’re unwilling to be with me.” At her soft blush, he laughed. They ascended the few stairs to the front porch, and Lucas took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

  “We shouldn’t have come. Not a few days before Christmas,” Genevieve protested.

  “Nonsense. We’re family.” Lucas smiled at the approaching footsteps and continued to smile as the door opened to a short woman with reddish hair.

  “May I help you?” she asked in a lilting voice reminiscent of Ireland. Her wary eyes flitted behind them to see who else lurked on her porch, and she held the door securely between her fingers.

  “I beg your pardon. I’m Lucas Russell. Patrick Sullivan’s cousin. I was advised this was his address.” Lucas smiled engagingly at her.

  She frowned as she surveyed him from head to toe. “Will you wait here a moment?” She didn’t pause for an answer before slamming the door in his face.

  “That’s odd,” Lucas said as he turned to Genevieve with a chagrined smile. “Not quite the welcome I was expecting.”

  Genevieve bit her lip but a giggle escaped. “You’ve lived a charmed life. It must be a surprise when something doesn’t go as planned.”

  His smile dimmed, but his response was cut short by the front door wrenching open. His smile was more hesitant this time, but he found himself staring at his long-lost cousin. He had only seen Patrick once since his return to the family two years ago.

  “Lucas! I can’t believe you’re here!” Patrick exclaimed with wonder lighting his brown eyes. “What are you doing on my doorstep?” He held out his hand and shook Lucas’s with enthusiasm before clapping him on his back. “Please, come in. You’re lucky I’m home early today from work.”

  He opened the door wide and motioned for them to enter his home. Lucas placed a hand at Genevieve’s back and followed her inside. After handing their coats, hats, and scarves to Patrick, they stood in the entryway.

  “I beg your pardon,” Patrick said. “I’m Patrick Sullivan—Lucas’s cousin and brother to Clarissa and Colin Sullivan.” He looked at Genevieve with curiosity before turning his gaze to Lucas.

  Lucas smiled and clasped Genevieve’s hand. “Allow me to introduce my wife, Genevieve Russell.”

  Patrick’s eyes rounded a moment before he smiled broadly. “A pleasure, Mrs. Russell,” he said, holding out his hand to her. “I only wish I could have attended the ceremony. Was it beautiful in Boston?”

  Lucas choked back a laugh and followed Patrick into the rectangular living room. A roaring fireplace with wooden mantle stood between curtained windows while a Christmas tree with unlit candles stood in the far corner. A thick red rug covered the majority of the wooden floor, and chairs and two settees filled the space. The woman who’d answered the door sat on a couch with a child on her lap. She watched them warily as they entered.

  “Fiona, I’d like to introduce you to my cousin, Lucas Russell, and his wife, Genevieve. Lucas, this is my wife, Fiona Sullivan, and our daughter, Rose.” They nodded to each other. “Lucas is a master pianist and a composer.”

  “Forgive my rudeness earlier,” Fiona said. “I was uncertain you were who you said you were.”

  Lucas smiled, although confusion lit his gaze. Genevieve sat on a settee, and he sat next to her, while Patrick settled on a chair near Fiona. Lucas grabbed Genevieve’s hand, giving it a soft squeeze of encouragement.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t write of your nuptials,” Patrick said. “Savannah must be over the moon with excitement to see you and have a grand party.”

  Lucas flushed. “Ah, as to that, you’re the first in the family to know we’ve wed. I haven’t written Sav yet.”

  Patrick stared with a frown and then shook his head. “Well, I’d send her a telegram, or else she’ll be irate when she arrives tomorrow.”

  Lucas paled. “Sav is coming here? Why?” He flushed at the rudeness of his question. “I beg your pardon.”

  Patrick chuckled as he reached to take Rose onto his lap. He moved his legs, mimicking the motions of a horse and earning a giggle from her. “I’m unable to travel this time of year due to my work. Thus, they decided to travel here so we’d have Christmas together for once.”

  “All of them?” Lucas asked, his voice weak and unable to hide his panic.

  “Yes, even Colin. I’m uncertain if they’ll bring their friend, Araminta, but I suspect they will as I doubt they’d want her to be alone this time of year.” Patrick turned toward Lucas. “Are you here for a performance?”

  “Patrick, quit pestering him with your impertinent questions,” Fiona said. “I’ll see to dinner.”

  “Oh, I—we—don’t want to impose,” Lucas said.

  “’Tis never an imposition to have family,” Fiona said with a friendly smile that finally reached her cognac-colored eyes. As she moved from the room, she walked with a lithe grace and hummed a lilting song.

  After a few moments of silence only broken by the child’s babbling, Genevieve stood. “I’ll see if she needs help in the kitchen.” She stroked a hand down Lucas’s arm to silence his protest and left the room.

  “Diplomatic of her,” Patrick said with a wry smile.

  Lucas relaxed into the settee, stretching his legs in front of him. “She’s too damned diplomatic at times.” He rested his head against the tufted cushions and sighed.

  “Why are you here, Lucas? And by all appearances married in a furtive manner?”

  Lucas opened his eyes and met his cousin’s gaze. “Genevieve is the sister of a friend in Boston. She was to be married off to a letch. A man who would have treated her like Sav was treated by Jonas.” He paused as his gaze became distant, and his jaw tensed at the memory.

  Patrick sighed. “So you saved her, at the cost of your own freedom.”

  Lucas met Patrick’s gaze, recoiling from the pity he saw within. “Yes, although I fear the cost was greater to her than to me.” He sighed. “I can’t seem to do anything right.”

  “Of course you can’t,” Patrick joked. “You’re married to a woman. They’ll always find fault.”

  Lucas half smiled. “I doubt Jer or Gabe would agree with you.”

  Patrick shrugged his shoulders as his daughter played at his feet. “That’s because their wives l
ove them.”

  Lucas shared an arrested look with Patrick, and an understanding passed between them. “I’m sorry, Pat.”

  “Don’t be,” he murmured. “I have a wonderful home, with a beautiful wife and daughter. Life is never as you dream it. It is only as good as you make it.”

  Lucas huffed out a laugh. “I think that’s my problem. I’m too much of a dreamer.” He frowned. “At least that’s what my mother always said.”

  “If you didn’t dream, you’d never create that beautiful music, and that would be a true shame. As for listening to anything your mother says … said, well, I can’t imagine she became more charitable in the years after I left.” He smiled with sympathy at his cousin.

  Lucas snorted and shook his head. “At the end, I only talked with my father. Any discussion with my mother left me on the verge of an apoplexy or of doing her physical harm.”

  Patrick murmured his understanding. “I am sorry though, Lucas.”

  Lucas nodded. “It’s one thing to know that she’d be there any given day for verbal sparring matches. It’s difficult to understand that she’s gone forever.” He sighed. “Even though she was out of my life in any appreciable way since that horrible night in ’03.”

  Patrick picked up a fussing Rose and patted her on her back. “For me, it’s the finality of it all that I find the most difficult. The realization that there is no further chance for any reconciliation.”

  Lucas’s gaze sharpened on his cousin. “It’s similar to what you were denied with your own father.”

  Patrick nodded. “I’ve always wished he knew the truth. That he would have at least listened to me.” He shook his head. “But it’s all water under the bridge now, and I’m thankful my family has welcomed me back.”

  “We’d always welcome you back, Pat,” Lucas said, watching his cousin closely as shadows flickered behind Patrick’s gaze. “Why wouldn’t Mrs. Sullivan let us in when she answered the door?”

  Patrick’s gaze transformed from mournful to irate in an instant. “You and I are more alike than you might think, cousin. Fiona and I married after a powerful businessman here in Butte abused her. Who happened to be our boss.” He took a deep breath. “And who’s also Gabriel’s and Jeremy’s cousin.”

  Lucas’s eyes widened with incredulity. “In the little time I’ve been here, I see the affection you have for her.”

  Patrick nodded. “Yes, I’m very fond of her. However, I know she married me for protection. And because she needed a father for her child.”

  Lucas choked and sputtered out a cough. “I can’t believe Sav never wrote me any of this. All she told me was that she’d attended your beautiful wedding and that you’d settled in Butte.”

  Patrick smiled, thrusting a hand out for Rose to grab as she teetered while practicing standing. “Your sister has become a master at discretion. But as to why Fee wouldn’t readily welcome you, she was concerned you were here as ploys by Samuel to gain her trust and then find a way to her daughter. Our daughter.” Patrick smiled at Rose. “Samuel is claiming he was tricked out of his rights as a father.”

  “Who’s listed as father on the birth certificate?”

  Patrick smiled. “I am. As I was her husband, there is very little to contest.”

  Lucas clamped his jaw as he fought his anger. “You know you only have to ask, Pat, and all of us will support you. Emotionally. Financially. In any way. We won’t allow some ba—” Lucas looked at Rose and curbed his language. “—bad man to hurt your family, our family.”

  Patrick smiled. “I know. I hope it doesn’t come to that.” He traced a hand over his daughter’s silky soft hair.

  Lucas smiled at Genevieve as she reentered the room, announcing dinner. Patrick hefted Rose into his arms as they moved toward the kitchen area. “I fear we’ll be a little squished at the table tonight.”

  Clapping Patrick on his shoulder, Lucas laughed. “All that matters is that we’re together again.”

  Lucas and Genevieve returned to their room at the Finlen Hotel in Butte. Due to the time of year, they’d been fortunate to obtain a simple room as all the suites had previously been reserved. Their room had a double bed, a small area for a vanity, one corner with a screen for changing clothes, and a miniscule bathroom. An armchair near the door acted as a sitting area. The cream-colored walls held pictures of scenes of Butte, and a vase of flowers set on a small table by the armchair gave the room a splash of color.

  “You’ve been very quiet since we left your cousin’s house. Is everything all right?” Genevieve asked as she removed the pins from her hair. She leaned her head to one side and brushed her long tresses. She had already changed into a long flannel nightgown with its matching wrap.

  Lucas sat on the bed, toeing off his shoes as his nimble fingers unbuttoned his waistcoat. “Everything should be wonderful. My sister and cousins are traveling here from Missoula tomorrow. Just in time for Christmas.”

  Genevieve checked her appearance—and his expression—in the mirror of the hotel room vanity. “I sensed the news didn’t please you when we were at Patrick’s house.”

  He met her gaze, watching as she bit her lip as she often did when refraining from asking a question. He fell backward on the bed, his waistcoat flung to the floor, shirt half unbuttoned, and spread his arms wide on the spread. “I wanted to see Pat. To consider spending some time here in Butte. Write music, maybe perform a few times.”

  The slight ping of her bracelet and earrings landing in the ceramic dish sounded as she continued to prepare for bed. “I’m sorry you are embarrassed of me.”

  He rolled to his side to face her back, grunting with frustration to see her eyes downcast in the mirror. “Dammit, that’s not why I’m upset.” He leapt to his feet and crossed to her in a few short strides, gripping her shoulders as he leaned over her, meeting her startled gaze in the polished glass. “That’s not it at all.”

  “Then tell me why,” she whispered in a tear-drenched voice.

  He shook his head and backed away. “It’s unimportant.”

  Genevieve slammed her hand to the vanity and lurched to her feet, pushing the wooden stool back a step, into his shins. She spun to face him, stalking him across the room as he backed up in time with each of her steps. “Am I that inconsequential to you? Just someone you talk to every once in a while? Someone who you sleep next to at night?” Her brown eyes, molten with fury, were laced with anguish.

  When he backed into a wall, he half smiled. “You are magnificent,” he whispered.

  She shook her head as tears coursed down her cheeks. “Because I accept this life with you?”

  He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs wiping away her tears. “No, because you refuse to allow me to hide from you.” He urged her forward and kissed her. After first stiffening at the contact, Genevieve relaxed and curled herself into his embrace. He moaned his approval, sinking his hands in her long hair. He tilted her head to one side, allowing better access for his deep kisses before spinning her and pressing her against the wall.

  As he continued to kiss her, he traced a hand down her neck to her collarbone. He fluttered his long fingers to the edge of her breasts and chuckled when she arched into his touch. “Yes, little love, show me what you want,” he rasped, abandoning her mouth to pepper her with little kisses along her cheek and then neck.

  One hand continued to caress her chest, while another roved to her hip. When she stiffened at his touch, he whispered, “Shh, it’s all right, love.” He ran soothing touches over her hip in a circular motion that also eased up her nightdress, revealing her satiny skin to his touch. “You are a treasure,” he whispered as he bent to kiss her again.

  He gasped as Genevieve kneed him in the groin. He grunted and groaned as he fell to the floor in agony. He attempted to breathe but felt as though he might throw up as he battled waves of nausea. He absently noted her step over him and move to the opposite side of the room. He rolled a bit to alleviate the agony in his groin, but the painful, fiery int
ensity continued. After several minutes, he uncurled a little but remained on the floor, panting. “Vivie? … What in the hell just happened?” he asked from the floor.

  Her shoulders stooped, she shook as she sat on the vanity stool.

  He moaned as he pushed himself up, limping as he approached her. Refraining from touching her, he sat on the bed near her. “Don’t ever do that to me again. If you were anyone else, I’d be considering ways to inflict similar pain.” He met her startled gaze with a harsh glare. “You could have just asked me to stop.” He frowned at the anger in his voice but was unable to hide it.

  “As if men will ever stop when asked,” she stuttered out.

  He opened his mouth to speak, then paused. “What happened to you, Vivie?” He ran a hand, as light as a gossamer wing down her back, eliciting a shudder. “Are you repulsed by me?”

  “No! You should be repulsed by me,” she said around her sobbing hiccups.

  He frowned at all that she had said and all that she had refused to say. “What did Mr. Carlisle do to you?” He touched her gently on her shoulder, encouraging her to turn to face him. When she spun to sit in his direction, he waited until she raised her eyes to meet his wounded, worried gaze. “What must I do to prove to you that I am not such a man?”

  She grasped his hand, holding it in both of hers as tears continued to track down her cheeks unheeded. “I keep telling myself you aren’t. I’m horribly afraid.” She took a deep breath when he remained silent. “I resent how you married me out of honor and duty, with no affection or care. I’m jealous of my own sister, even though I know it’s hopeless. I’m disappointed with myself.”

  “Vivie, you’re not making any sense,” Lucas whispered. “Why did you attack me? Until that moment, you enjoyed my touch.” He paused as she stiffened, then thought through their interaction. “That’s not true. Until I touched your hip, you enjoyed yourself.” He frowned as she trembled.

  “Mr. Carlisle, … he … he …” She closed her eyes as her breath come out in a pant.