“I know, but my desperation could cost me my position.”
Kyle pinched the bridge of his nose, wishing his leg would stop throbbing. “I’ll make Phil understand that nothing improper happened,” he said, lowering his hand. “If you or your mother need anything, though, I’d appreciate it if you’d let me know.”
“Thank you.” She inhaled as if trying to decide how to voice the question he saw in her eyes, then she released her breath in a rush. “Was my father aware of what was happening to him when he collapsed?”
Unprepared for her direct question, Kyle remained silent. Though he wanted to tell Amelia about that night and clear his conscience, Jeb was right, now wasn’t the time. She had enough worry without him adding burdens to her narrow shoulders.
“Did Papa say anything? Other than that he loves me?”
He sure as hell did. But no matter what Kyle owed Tom, wedding his daughter was out of the question. Tying himself to a woman who needed him but didn’t want him was a recipe for disaster. Kyle had made that painful mistake once and had learned his lesson. Evelyn had needed him but she hadn’t loved him.
Kyle glanced at Amelia and wondered if there was a special man in her life who might step forward and offer to keep and protect her now that her father was gone, but he knew he couldn’t pry into her personal life. Still, Tom had warned Kyle to keep someone away from Amelia. Perhaps it was a man whom Tom didn’t approve of, a man Amelia was seeing in secret.
“Your father asked me to look after you and your mother,” Kyle said, searching for a way to broach the subject without offending her.
“Are you saying Papa knew he was dying?” she asked, her voice filled with pain.
The silence lengthened as Kyle tried to decide if it would cause her more heartache to know that her father had been aware of his impending death and appeared resigned to it, or if it would be kinder to tell her that he had been oblivious.
Her fingers curled lightly over his forearm. “Please. I need to know.”
Kyle couldn’t look at her knowing he’d been the one to cause the pain in her eyes. “Your father seemed more concerned about you and your mother than himself.”
“He would.”
Her quiet assurance fueled Kyle’s self-condemnation. Tom Drake had been a man of integrity. If Kyle had reminded himself of that before he went storming into Tom’s office, maybe he wouldn’t be trying to avoid Amelia’s tortured eyes and the feeling that he was being crushed by his own guilt.
Hell, maybe he should just tell Amelia everything. Just blurt it out and let her hate him. He could live with that. He deserved it. But she didn’t deserve more heartache when she was suffering so much already.
“We’re not your obligation, Kyle.” Their eyes met. “Not that I don’t appreciate your promise to Papa, or his concern for us. We’ll be all right.” She tried to smile, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Worry and fear lines etched her face and Kyle knew Amelia and her mother wouldn’t be all right at all. The urge to smooth away her frown caught Kyle by surprise. Maybe it was the pain in her eyes, or the tiny line marring her forehead, that melted him, but whatever it was, it weakened his resistance, which scared the hell out of him. Before he was stupid enough to lift his hand, he linked his fingers together and braced his elbows on his knees. He wouldn’t look at her. He would keep his promise to Tom, but he would be damned if he would let this urge to protect Amelia go any farther than financial support. She would have to find comfort from someone else.
“I wanted to talk with you privately,” Amelia said, breaking into Kyle’s thoughts, “because I’m hoping you can tell me what Papa’s mill is worth.”
Kyle’s protective instincts snapped to attention and he sat upright, his chest filling with fresh air. Amelia could only be asking for one reason. As if Tom Drake had climbed up out of his grave and kicked Kyle in the shin to get his attention, Kyle suddenly knew he’d found the perfect way to give Amelia and her mother security.
By buying Tom’s mill, Kyle could fulfill his promise to Tom, as well as make Grayson lumber the largest sawmill business in the county, which had been a dream of Kyle’s for several years. Despite the poor timing of the huge financial undertaking, owning the depot along with Tom’s lumberyard made sense to Kyle. He would discuss the investment with his brothers before making an offer, but he knew they would ultimately leave the burden of this decision on his shoulders.
“To me, your father’s lumberyard is worth more than anyone else will pay you.”
Amelia’s mouth dropped open.
“I assume you’re asking because your mother intends to sell it,” he said, beginning the process of assuming ownership of Drakes’ Sawmill. “I’ll need to discuss this with my brothers first, but Jeb can confirm the worthiness of our offer.”
Something in her expression shifted and her eyes sparked with life, as if a lantern had been lit in a dark house. She met his eyes with a boldness that unnerved Kyle. “Mama’s hoping I’ll use Papa’s mill as a dowry.”
Kyle’s heart jolted and he jerked to his feet. The pain in his leg, and the shock of Amelia’s comment, made him grab for the back of the bench to steady himself. He’d made a private vow the night Evelyn broke their engagement that he would never ask another woman for a promise she might not keep. Never would he put himself through that hell again. He was content to pour his heart into his sawmill. He could depend on his business.
“Sorry, Amelia, but I’m not interested in acquiring a wife.”
A bright flush spread across her cheeks and her shoulders stiffened as she stood to face him. “I wasn’t attempting to gauge your level of interest, Kyle.”
She wasn’t? Then why the hell had she mentioned using the mill as a dowry?
“If you want to buy the mill, you’ll have to approach my mother yourself.”
Kyle reached out to stop her from leaving, to tell her he hadn’t meant to insult her, but she yanked her arm free and left him standing beside the bench feeling like an egotistical fool.
Chapter Five
Although the board members expressed sincere sympathy over the loss of Amelia’s father, they filled her ears with a lengthy diatribe about the necessity and importance of proper conduct. They roundly chastised her for putting her reputation, and theirs, at risk. But after reviewing the rules of her contract and the circumstances of her misconduct with painstaking thoroughness, they allowed her to return to her position.
Instead of feeling relieved, Amelia was weary. She barely had the energy to visit her mother each evening, and for almost two weeks, she spent her time huddled alone in her apartment, hating her life, missing her father with a desperation that frightened her, and cursing Kyle Grayson for buying the mill.
He’d delivered a bank draft to her mother this morning and the amount of his offer was blatantly commensurate with his aversion to marriage. Kyle had made it very clear he wasn’t interested in Amelia or her indirect proposal. Why she had even mentioned her mother’s idea about using the mill as a dowry Amelia couldn’t say, but she wished to God she had never opened her mouth. Kyle’s horrified expression had been a painful blow to her dignity.
Mortified that she might cross paths with Kyle, Amelia glanced over her shoulder several times during her mile walk to town, the last piece of freedom the board allowed her. She dreaded meeting anyone, hearing sympathetic comments from neighbors and friends, or facing the stares of curious gossips. She didn’t want to display her heartache for anyone, sympathetic or otherwise. She wanted to stay home and lick her wounds in private, but she had promised her mother she would take Kyle’s draft and pay off the mortgage on the house. So Amelia swallowed her apprehension and entered the bank.
The unexpected sight of Richard Cameron strolling through the lobby leached every ounce of strength from Amelia’s body. Her parasol clattered to the floor and her heart jerked so hard she clapped a hand over the pain shooting through her chest. “What are you doing here?” she asked in breathless shock.
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Richard swept up her parasol and smiled. “I’m a partner in the bank now.”
If the muscles in her legs hadn’t gone lax, Amelia would have rushed back outside, but it was all she could do to remain standing while several patrons, including two school board members, Clara and Art Bortwick, turned to see what the commotion was about. That Richard was here, now, while her reputation was already under so much speculation was too much to bear.
“You’re white as wool, Amelia.” He pointed toward a corner office with the tip of her parasol. “Come sit down a moment.”
“I’ll wait for a teller.”
“Nonsense.” He caught her elbow and tugged her forward. “I’m honored to help a friend.”
To deny him would cause a scene she couldn’t afford, so Amelia followed him into his office. He gave the door a nudge to close it, but Amelia caught the edge of it to keep it open a few inches.
He glanced at her with a question in his eyes, but she turned away from his handsome face before succumbing to the immediate sense of intimacy she’d always felt when he looked at her. The Bortwicks’ inquisitive gazes peering through the six-inch gap in the doorway provided a strong motivation for Amelia’s shift of attention. They would flay her alive if she spent time alone with a man, especially if she was flaunting her breach of propriety in a public facility.
Richard handed Amelia her parasol. “I’m sincerely sorry about your father. I just returned from Philadelphia and heard the news this morning. If there is anything I can do to help you and your mother, I would consider it a privilege to do so.”
Amelia clutched her parasol and wondered how long her heart could endure the thunderous beating before it exploded. So many years she’d dreamed of this moment, of Richard dashing back into town to beg her forgiveness and rescue her from going mad in her self-induced solitary confinement. But her girlhood lover wasn’t on his knees begging her for anything. He was standing with his hip cocked, as arrogant and self-assured as ever.
She inched closer to the door. “Why are you in the banking business? I thought you had a law practice in Philadelphia.”
“I didn’t care for the legal profession.” Richard nodded toward the empty chair. “Sit down. Please. I won’t bite.”
Yes he would. If he was inclined, Richard would nibble and tease and seduce her until he ripped out another chunk of her heart. No matter how much she’d once adored him, or how intimately he was looking at her now, Amelia refused to succumb to his charm. She wasn’t the same naive girl who had melted the minute Richard smiled at her. She was just a little off balance and breathless from the shock of seeing him here. That’s all.
Richard accepted the draft she handed him then sat in his oversized chair. He looked at the note and his eyebrows shot up. “Did the Graysons owe your father money?”
“They bought Papa’s mill.”
Richard’s face turned ashen and he gaped at her. “Are they insane?”
“I beg your pardon?” she asked, offended.
“I...I’m sorry.” Richard looked at the draft and shook his head. “I’m just shocked that Kyle would make an investment like this. Pardon my candor, but your father’s mill is in terrible financial shape.”
“It is?”
Richard glanced up in surprise. “You don’t know about this?”
Amelia’s stomach did a slow, sickening roll and she shook her head.
His expression filled with sympathy and he stood up. “I’m terribly sorry, Amelia, but your father’s finances aren’t in the best of shape. I would have broken this more gently had I known you weren’t aware of it.”
“There must be a mistake. My father was a smart businessman.”
He sighed and picked up a folder from his desk. “There are several outstanding mortgages tied to his business. His personal account is empty, so those liens will remain against the mill.” He held out a thick folder. “Our bank files are confidential, but you’re welcome to look through your father’s accounts if you feel the need.”
Amelia took the folder and flipped through the papers, her eyes seeking confirmation of the truth while her heart prayed Richard was mistaken. Slowly, as she scanned her father’s records, her body grew weak and she sagged against his desk. From what she could understand of the documents, her father appeared to be broke. All her mother could depend on was Amelia’s pathetic monthly teacher’s salary that simply couldn’t support them. They had nothing left but a house that her mother would lose if Kyle tried to back out of buying the mill, which he would certainly do the minute he learned about the liens.
Amelia’s hands shook as she handed the folder back to Richard. “What am I going to do?”
“I don’t know, but I’m willing to help you figure out a solution to the problem.”
That he was sincere was embarrassingly apparent, but Amelia couldn’t think past the disaster crashing upon her. “How on earth can I manage all of this on a teacher’s salary?”
“I’ll help you.” Richard dropped the folder on the desk then bracketed her shoulders with his warm palms. “I know things ended badly with us, but I would like to see you again. Let me help you. I’ll come by this evening and we’ll resolve this together.”
Torn between kicking him for breaking her heart, and falling into his arms to weep out her problems, Amelia willed herself not to move, not to make a spectacle of herself again. Long ago she’d promised herself she would never again beg a man for anything, but she hadn’t known how tempting it would be in a crisis.
She eyed Richard, wanting to believe he was sincere, but afraid to trust him. For three tense seconds their gazes locked, then he smiled that half-smile that had cost Amelia her virginity. “I’ve missed you.”
Oh, God.
“I can help you, Amelia. And you can help me.”
Her stomach dropped and she held her breath. Maybe she wasn’t seventeen years old, but Richard had the power to make her feel that way—naive and desperate.
“We’re both lonely.” He touched a finger to her cheek. “Don’t deny it. I know how you’ve been living. I’ve been alone, too. I don’t want to be alone anymore. We can enjoy each other’s company. We can become companions.”
“Companions?” She glanced toward the door and saw the Bortwicks pretending to be reviewing a paper with the loan officer, but she knew they were purposely observing everything that was happening between her and Richard. She moved back a step. “Have you forgotten that you walked out on me when I could have been in trouble? That was inconsiderate and cowardly, Richard. How do you expect me to be your companion when I despise you?”
His laugh echoed through the office and Amelia cringed. She knew the Bortwicks would be glaring at her by now, but she didn’t have the courage to turn around and confirm her fear.
“I hurt you, but we don’t hate each other. We had something special once, didn’t we?”
“Apparently not.”
“I just wasn’t ready to marry.”
“You should have told me that before you ruined me.”
“I didn’t ruin you. Forget the past, Amelia. I have. And I’ve forgiven you.”
“For what?” she blurted, too incensed to control the increasing level of her voice. “For giving you the only thing that was ever truly mine? For letting you destroy my life?”
Richard glanced toward the lobby and nudged the door closed in the face of the Bortwicks’ shocked stares. Amelia lunged for the brass handle, but he caught her elbow and swung her into his arms. “We both got hurt. Why not forget it and start over?”
She stared at him, wanting to believe that he was sincere, that the spark in his eye was love instead of lust.
“We were young, Amelia. I needed to go back to college. I told you from the beginning that I was going back to school.”
He had, but Amelia had believed their romance would change his mind. She’d thought he would stay and take a job at her father’s lumberyard or go into the banking business with his own father. She’d thought they
would marry and begin a family, but she’d been wrong. Richard had no interest in working a sawmill or riding on his father’s success. He’d craved the big city and the sort of life a small-town girl knew nothing about. Why he’d come back now Amelia didn’t know, but she was certain it wasn’t for her.
Amelia glanced at the folder on his desk and realized she was caught up in salving old wounds instead of trying to prevent the present financial disaster facing herself and her mother. Suddenly exhausted, she leaned against the desk and looked Richard in the eye. “Our past is inconsequential at this point. My mother is destitute and I have no idea how I’m going to support her.”
“My offer of help was sincere.” Richard cupped her jaw. “I want you,” he said quietly. “Don’t look so shocked. We’re adults, Amelia. I can see that we’re both bored out of our minds. You need money. I want a companion. If you’re willing, we can have a private, intimate relationship and offer each other something that no one else needs to know about.”
Although they were behind closed doors, Amelia’s jaw dropped at his audacity.
Richard took advantage of her shock and kissed her.
The heat of his mouth, the sweep of his tongue, jolted her. Her mouth remembered his as if only yesterday they had been lovers, but her heart reminded her of Richard’s betrayal and she found the strength to push him away.
“I meant that as a compliment,” he said. “A private relationship could serve both of us.”
“Does that private relationship include marriage, Richard?”
“No.”
“How chivalrous of you.” Amelia tried to push past him, but he caught her arms and held her immobile.
“This isn’t an issue of integrity, nor does it have anything to do with our past. It’s about need and desire. Plain and simple. We’re two adults who need each other, and you know it.”
Amelia stared at him, wondering how on earth she could be tempted by his outrageous proposition when he was so obviously a rat and when it went against every fiber of what she considered honest and decent. But she felt the pull of her old infatuation as surely as she felt his warm hands banding her arms.
The Longing Page 5
