by Nora Roberts
"I appreciate you putting up with all that, seeing as you're not big on sex."
The dry tone alerted her, but she was too delighted to mind being teased. "I didn't mind," she said, and smiled against his throat. "Devin, it was wonderful. I actually—"
"I know. Several times. I counted."
She laughed, and didn't feel at all embarrassed. "You did not."
"I certainly did." He found the energy to lift his head and look down at her. "You can thank me later."
Her smile sweetened. She'd never had a man look at her like that, all hazy-eyed and satisfied and sleepy. "It was all right." Incredibly moved, she lifted a hand to his cheek. "Wasn't it?"
"It was worth waiting for." He turned his lips into her palm. "But I'm not waiting another twelve years to have you again."
"I don't want you to." Everything inside her was dreamy and disjointed. "You're so handsome."
"The curse of the MacKades."
"I mean it." She lifted her other hand, framing his face. It was so easy to touch him now, to let her finger trace that wonderful dimple beside his smile. "Do you remember how I used to come out to the farm sometimes when I was a girl, to visit with your mother?"
"Sure. You were a pretty little thing, skinny, and I didn't pay you much mind. My mistake."
"I used to watch you. In the summer, especially. When you'd be working with your shirt off."
His grin flashed. "Well, well, little Cassie..."
"I had a terrible crush on you for a while, and these really imaginative fantasies." She chuckled. "Well, I thought they were imaginative, until now. Nothing came close. I can't believe I'm saying this, talking to you like this."
"Under the circumstances, you can say pretty much anything." He was hoping she would. He could feel himself hardening inside her.
"I was about twelve, and you were always nice to me. All of you were. I loved coming out there, just to be there. But it was a bonus when it was summer and you'd be bare-chested and sweaty. Like you are now." Experimentally, she traced a finger over his shoulder. "All those muscles shiny with damp. Your body...it's so beautiful. Sometimes you'd come into Ed's, and when you'd go out, if there were women in there, they'd roll their eyes and sigh."
"Come on."
"Really. Of course, if one of your brothers came in, they'd do the same thing."
"Don't spoil it."
She laughed, lifting a hand to push tousled hair from her cheek. "Okay. They sighed louder, and longer, for you."
"That's better."
"And Ed would say something like 'That Devin MacKade's got the best buns in three counties.'" She caught herself on a giggle, her eyes going wide. "I shouldn't have said that."
"Too late. Besides, I know Ed's partial to that particular part of the anatomy. She's told me."
"She's shameless." With a long sigh of her own, Cassie wound her arms around him again, let her hands wander down. "But you do have an exceptional seat."
"Now you've done it." As her fingers brushed over his hips, he began to move inside her. Nothing could have pleased him more than seeing the way her eyes rounded in surprise.
"But how can you— Oh my God!"
"It's no trouble," he assured her. "It's my pleasure."
And after, a long time after, he curled up beside her on the cot, his face buried in her hair, his legs tangled with hers. As she had hoped, as she had needed, he held her.
Chapter 8
It was barely dawn when Cassie crept into her own kitchen. She felt giddy, like a teenager sneaking home after curfew. Not that she'd ever broken curfew, she thought now. Not that she'd ever done anything except exactly what was expected of her.
It made her hushed, secret return all the more liberating.
She'd just spent the night, all night, with the most exciting, beautiful, the most gentle man she'd ever known.
She, Cassandra Connor Dolin, was having an affair.
She had to slap her hand over her mouth to muffle a burst of laughter. Her heart was still racing, her head still swimming, and her body...her body felt as though it had been polished with flower petals.
She was sure she looked different, and tried to see her reflection in the chrome of the toaster. Because she was alone, she allowed herself three quick spins before putting the kettle on for coffee.
Then, being a mother, she padded toward the bedrooms to make sure her children were snug and asleep. Turning from Connor's room, she stifled a gasp. There was Ed, her fire-engine hair done up in squashy pink rollers, wearing a wildly flowered robe of pink and blue.
"I'm sorry," Cassie whispered. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"You were quiet as a little mouse. I was listening out for you." Ed took a long, measuring look, and liked what she saw. "Well, well, I believe you're feeling good and smug this morning. About time, too."
Cassie cast a last look at her sleeping son, then backed down the short hallway toward the kitchen. "The kids didn't give you any trouble, did they?"
"Of course not. Never heard a peep out of either of them." Grinning, Ed followed Cassie into the kitchen, watched while she busied herself measuring out coffee. "You going to tell me about it, or am I going to have to use my imagination? I got a damn good one."
The heat rose to Cassie's cheeks, but it was from pleasure as much as embarrassment. "I stayed with Devin."
"I figured that out, sweetie pie." Very much at home, Ed popped bread into the toaster. "From the look on your face, the two of you didn't discuss world events until morning." Sighing a little, she poked around in the refrigerator. "I'm not just being nosy. I guess I want to make sure you're as okay on the inside as you look on the out."
"I'm fine." Cassie turned, smiled. There was Ed, holding a jar of preserves in one hand and a gallon of milk in the other, her thin face shiny with night cream, her hair exploding on rollers, her outrageous robe falling over legs the shape of toothpicks.
This, Cassie realized, was the mother of her heart. Cassie set the steaming kettle down again and dashed over to throw her arms around Ed.
Surprised, moved, Ed pressed her lips to Cassie's hair. "There, baby..."
"I feel... different. Do I look different?"
"You look happy."
"My stomach's still jumping." Laughing at herself, Cassie drew back and pressed a hand to it. "But it feels good. I didn't know it could be like that. I didn't know I could be like that." Casting a quick look at the hallway, she went back to the coffee. Her children were asleep, and would be for another half hour. After all these years, Cassie thought, she would have a mother to listen.
"I've never been with anyone but Joe."
"I know that, baby."
"Before we were married, I wouldn't let him. I wanted to be married first, I wanted it to be right." She poured coffee for both of them, then sat at the table. "I was nervous on our wedding night, but excited, too. You'd given me a white nightgown for my shower. It was so pretty, so perfect. It made me feel like a bride. When we got to the motel, I asked Joe to give me an hour to myself. I wanted to take a long bath and... well, you know."
"The female ritual. Yeah, I know."
"He came back—it was closer to two hours—and he was drunk. It wasn't the way I'd always dreamed. He ripped the gown, and he pushed me onto the bed. It all happened so fast, and he hurt me. I knew it was supposed to hurt some the first time, but it was more than some. He fell asleep right after, and I just laid there. I didn't feel anything."
"A man's not supposed to treat a woman that way." Even if she hadn't already despised Joe Dolin, Ed would have despised him now. "That's not how it's supposed to be."
"It was the way it was. Always. I never felt anything, Ed. Ever. He didn't always hurt me, but it was always quick, and mostly a little mean. I figured it was my fault—he told me it was often enough. It got better when I was carrying Connor, because he left me alone most of the time. I didn't know he was cheating on me then. I guess I was too stupid."
"Don't you call yourself stupid,"
Ed said fiercely. "I don't want to hear that."
"Maybe I just didn't care enough to know, or want to know. I was wrapped up in becoming a mother, then in being one. He was already hitting me. We hadn't been married long when that started, but I didn't think there was anything I could do about it. My mother said... well, it doesn't matter what she said. I stayed, then Emma came along. He only wanted me a couple of times after Emma... He forced me."
"Oh, Cassie. Honey, why didn't you tell me?"
"Ed, I was too ashamed. He was my husband, and I had it in my head that he had a right to do what he did. I know different now." She took a long breath. "You see, when I went to Devin last night, I didn't think... I knew he wouldn't hurt me, at least not like Joe had. I thought going to bed with him would make him happy, and it didn't matter to me. I mean, I thought he would just... that I would just..."
"You had yourself a real man last night," Ed finished. "And it changed things."
"Yes." Relieved, Cassie smiled. "He was so gentle, so patient. You know, it mattered to him what I was feeling. It really mattered. And he made me feel beautiful. Ed..." She bit her lip, even as it curved again. "It matters to me now. I'm already thinking about next time."
Ed let out a cackling laugh and squeezed Cassie's hand. "Good for you."
"He says he loves me," Cassie said quietly. "I know men say those things when they want you, or they think you need to hear it. But do you think he could?"
"I think Devin MacKade's a man who says what he means. What about you?"
"I don't know. That part of me is so confused. I didn't love Joe, Ed. I never did. I used him."
"Cassandra—"
"No, I did. I used him to get out of the house, because I wanted to have a family of my own, and he was there. I wasn't fair to him. I don't mean that gave him the right to beat me," she added, noting the warrior gleam in Ed's eye. "Nothing gave him that right. But I didn't love him, not the way a woman should love her husband."
"He didn't do anything to deserve love."
"No, he didn't. With Devin, I feel so many things, so many different things, and I don't know if one of them is that kind of love."
"Then you take all the time you need to sort it out. Don't you let anyone push you into anything you're not ready for. Not even Devin."
"How will I know?"
"Sweetie pie, when the time comes you'll know. Take my word for it, you'll know."
While Cassie was talking with Ed over coffee, Devin was pulling up at the farm. He'd felt a need for home. The sky was losing its dawn haze when he walked into the milking parlor. Shane and two of the 4-H students he often took on as help were finishing up the morning routine.
Patiently Shane showed one of the boys how to detach cow from machine without causing irritation. The parlor smelled of warm milk, animal and hay.
"You're going to check her teats after, just like you did before, to make sure there's no infection." He did so himself, demonstrating. "When she's dry, you see to her feed." He cocked a brow at Devin. "You can see the sheriff wanders in when most of the work's done. Y'all lead them out now."
Devin gave the cow an easy swat, then helped Shane clean and disinfect the machines. It was routine, companionable work.
"Remember when Dad had us milking by hand?" Devin asked.
"He figured we'd better know. Machines break down, but cows fill up regular. You're up early," Shane commented. "And you've got a stupid grin on your face. Looks like you got lucky."
Devin only angled his head. "I'm feeling too good to pound on you this morning."
“Good, because I've got to finish up here and get to the hens before breakfast. You and Cassie," he said, grinning again. "Who'd have thought it?" "I've been thinking about it for a long time." Devin helped Shane secure the fresh milk in the stainless-steel tanks. "I've been in love with her a long time."
Shane straightened, winced. "Man, don't start that. Every time I turn around, somebody's falling in love. It's giving me nightmares."
"Well, get used to it. I'm going to ask her to marry me."
Shane rubbed his hands over his face, pulled off his cap, dragged hands through his hair. "What is it? Something in the water around here? First Rafe, then Jared. Now you. I turn my back for a minute and everybody's getting married, having babies. Get a hold of yourself, Dev."
"Afraid it's going to rub off?"
"Hell, I'm going to start to take shots. Look, Cas-sie's as sweet as they come, and as pretty as fresh milk, but let's not go crazy."
"I love her," Devin said, so simply Shane groaned. "It seems I always have. There's nothing I could do about it even if I wanted to."
"You know what kind of trouble this is going to cause me? Don't you have any consideration?" Shane demanded. "I'll be the only one of us left. Women home in on things like that. I won't be able to get myself a snuggle without the woman thinking it's going to lead to orange blossoms."
"You'll have to tough it out."
"What in sweet hell's so appealing about marriage?" Grumbling, Shane headed out of the milking parlor. "I mean, think about it, Dev. Really think. You've got one woman for the rest of your life. Just one. And there're so many out there. Tall ones, short ones, round ones."
Amused, Devin slapped a hand on Shane's shoulder as they walked toward the chicken coop. "And with me out of the way, there'll be more for you."
"There is that." Taking it philosophically, Shane shrugged. "I guess it'll be up to me to maintain the MacKade legend. I'll just have to make the sacrifice."
"You're up to it, bro."
Cassie never lingered in the library. She was much too conscientious to skim over her cleaning there, but most often she tried to arrange her schedule so that someone was in the house when she dealt with that room.
There was no one in the house now. Her children were in school and the guests were busy with their sight-seeing for the afternoon. She made excuses in her head for why she should see to a dozen other things besides that one room. But she knew the library had been used the day before. She knew there were books that needed to be put back on the shelves, plants that needed watering, windows that needed washing.
She told herself it was foolish. She knew the emotions and moods of the house better than she knew her own. There was nothing here that could hurt her. In fact, the house had changed her life, and all for the better.
Armed with her cleaning basket, she went in. If she left the door open wide behind her, it was only because she wanted to be able to hear if one of the guests returned and wanted anything.
It wasn't because she was afraid.
She set the basket aside and tidied the books first. She knew guests often liked to borrow one to read on a rainy afternoon or to help them drift off to sleep at night. Rafe and Regan had provided a variety of books for a variety of tastes. She, too, was free to borrow any she liked, whenever she liked. But she rarely did.
Nor, she thought suddenly, did Connor, though he was a voracious reader. It occurred to her that he, too, avoided this room, even though he was thoroughly at home in the rest of the inn.
It was a feeling, she supposed. Something that lingered in the air. Shaking it off, she carried her basket over to the twin philodendrons that trailed their leaves from pots set in stands by the tall window that overlooked the side garden.
They needed to be dusted. She'd been putting it off.
As she began, she felt the chill, down to the bone.
And knew she wasn't really alone.
She thought she could see him, out of the corner of her eye. The big body going to fat, the wide face set in hard, dissatisfied lines.
Joe.
The terror came so quickly, she dropped the basket at her feet as she whirled around.
He wasn't there. Of course he wasn't. No one was. But it was so bitterly cold. With numb fingers, she reached for the window to open it to the warm breeze.
She fumbled, couldn't work the latch, and discovered her breath was coming in short gasps.
&n
bsp; You let him touch you, didn't you? Whore.
She hunched her shoulders automatically against a blow that didn't come.
Did you think I wouldn't know? Did you thinkyou could cuckold me in my own house? You, with your innocent face and fancy Southern manners. Nothing but a slut.
Shaking, she backed slowly away from the window. Her eyes darted around the room, searching corners. There was no one there. But how could she hear the voice so clearly in her head?
Know this. You'll never leave me. I'll see you dead first.
You don't love me, Cassie wanted to say. You despise me. Let me go. But the words wouldn't come.
I'll kill you both. Remember that. Till death do us part. And death is your only escape.
"Cassie."
On a strangled shriek, she spun around. Devin was just inside the door, his eyes narrowed in concern. Without a thought, she ran into his arms.
"Devin. Devin, you have to go. Go quickly, before he sees you. He's going to kill you."
"What are you talking about? God, you're shaking like a leaf. It's freezing in here."
"You feel it?" Her teeth were all but chattering as she drew back. "You can feel it?"
"Sure I can. It's like an icebox." He rubbed her hands in his to warm them.
"I thought it was Joe. I swear I saw his fist coming toward me, and then—" The room spun; her knees buckled. The dizziness lasted only an instant, but she was already up in Devin's arms. "I'm all right. It's gone."
The room was warm again, sunny and bright, with the scent of roses and polish. Very gently, he laid her down on the soft leather sofa. "Let me get you some water."
"No, I'm all right." She thought she might jump out of her skin if he left her alone there. "It's just this room." She steadied herself, sat up. "I thought it was Joe, but it wasn't. It was Barlow."
She was still too pale, Devin thought, but her eyes had cleared. His heart had dropped to his knees when he'd seen them roll back in her head. "Has this happened before?"
"Not like this. Not this strong. I'm never very comfortable in this room. Even his bedroom is easier. But this time, I heard... You're going to think I've lost my mind."
