‘Better?’ Kade’s inquiry reminded her of his presence and she slipped behind a calm mask, feeling too exposed without any disguise paraphernalia for the first time in many years. She touched her blue-black wavy hair. Clean and soft. The bath?
He pointed, seeming calm again. ‘I like your own hair and your own eye colour. They suit you.’ He sipped his coffee and added conversationally. ‘Your eyes are quite extraordinary. I can see why you change their colour. Far too memorable.’ His words sounded reasonable but even now she could sense the anger and frustration radiating off him, battering her weakened defences. His calm was a mask.
‘Don’t.’ Heather held out a hand to stop the words, the emotion, both. Her voice broke and she hated herself for that betrayal of fear. What was it about this man that affected her so much?
‘Don’t what?’ His tone sharpened and he set his cup down so hard that coffee sloshed onto the timber. With arms folded, he glared at her. ‘Don’t speak, don’t touch, don’t find out what’s going on here? Why the hell not?’
Heather flinched from the pent up anger and frustration bubbling under the thin lid of his self-control. She dug some of her own anger out of storage in an effort to fight the weakness that caused her to shake and her ears to sing.
Gritting her teeth, she tried to match his intensity. ‘Don’t pretend to be nice to me when you’re going to sell me to someone who’ll have me killed or tortured the minute you walk out the door! Andrew Carleton is one of the most vile—’ She broke off, disconcerted by the look of shock he turned on her.
‘How did you know that?’ Kade shot to his feet, expression fierce and bewildered at the same time. He loomed over her, hands flat on the table.
‘What?’ What was he on about now?
‘I never told you Carleton was the person who hired me. Never.’ His scowl deepened.
‘I don’t…surely you said…didn’t you?’ She stammered to a halt, unable to remember what had been spoken and what she had plucked from his thoughts.
‘No.’ His voice dropped, as dangerously soft and cold as the snow outside.
‘Oh.’ Heather fiddled with her coffee cup, draining its bitter dregs with a grimace.
He stalked around to her side of the table, standing over her. She tried to sit still and raised her chin.
‘What are you, Heather. How did you do this?’ He revealed the still-blue bruises on his arm.
She touched them, briefly, lightly, snatching her finger back when his feelings surged through with renewed intensity. She shuddered.
‘Do you really want to know?’ This was a now-or-never moment. If she were to convince him that she was not the badguy, it had to be right now.
‘Yes, dammit!’ He clenched a fist and thumped it on the table, making her cup jump. ‘By the amount of blood on my clothes and the floor, I should be in hospital. Or dead.’ He sank onto the chair next to her, his tone softening to bewilderment. ‘Why am I alive?’
Heather hesitated. Was she about to dig her own grave? She’d never let anyone into her secret life before. It was frightening to think how much power he would have with this knowledge. But what choice did she have?
‘OK, I’ll show you.’ She grabbed his bruised flesh. He twitched, but she tightened her hold. ‘This won’t hurt you.’
She hesitated. Was that true? Her body was so low in energy she had to be careful. Emotions weren’t the only thing in danger of bleeding from him.
Did she have enough for even this small task? The rich food weighed heavily in her stomach, its energy not yet available to her body. Her weakness frightened her, but she had to do this. It was the only way to get him onside. Her only chance to be left alone again.
He nodded once but there was tension in his arm; in his clenched fist and stiff body.
The welter of his angry, confused thoughts blurred hers, threatening to overwhelm her feeble attempts to concentrate. Normally she could block but she was too tired and he was too strong. She dug her fingernails into his arm, feeling the sharp pain reflected in his surprised thoughts.
‘Would you please stop thinking for a moment?’ Her voice sounded strained, even to herself.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
KADE
Startled, Kade hesitated. How did you stop thinking? He tried, though; tried to put a damper on his wildly careening thoughts.
‘Thank you.’ She closed her eyes, still and composed, free of fear at last, almost ethereal. An odd rush of not-quite-warmth surged through his arm. A strange ache twisted in his head. Her breath caught on a half-sob. The bruising on his arm faded from blue to greenish to yellow to nothing.
Heather released him. She uttered a low moan and slumped, her lips white and tight-pressed.
Kade gaped at his arm. It was one thing to suspect, but another entirely to watch it happen. He delayed, not sure what to say. Belief opened the doors to clarity and his thoughts tumbled into the future.
What the hell did he do with her, now?
‘Does that answer your question? That was a double-fracture last night.’ Her voice was a thread, dull and careless. ‘I’m a freak.’
Pulled from his thoughts, Kade took in her pale face and shivering body and felt a surge of protectiveness that astonished him. He gathered her into his lap, trying not to think, willing his energy into her as he had done yesterday. She resisted feebly but he tucked her against his chest and rocked her gently as he would an upset child. Slowly, her shivering abated, her fear faded and colour returned to her skin.
‘I don’t think you’re a freak, but I do think you’re stupid to have done that unnecessary demonstration and wasted all your strength again.’
To his surprise, she chuckled. It was an encouraging sound. She had a nice laugh.
She slid off his lap and broke all contact with him. Then she reclaimed her empty cup and held it between them. Kade examined her, strangely bereft, alone in a way he’d never felt before.
He scowled and forced himself back on track. This was no time to go all mushy. He still had a job to do.
Beside him, Heather flinched, wiping at her eyes.
‘So tell me how you do this…healing thing,’ he demanded.
She said nothing for a while, merely refilling her coffee cup from the pot on the table. ‘I just do it. I did nursing and midwifery at college so I’d have enough medical knowledge to know what was wrong with someone. Then I will it to be the way it should be. The ability’s been in my family for generations – at least six that I know of. My great-great-great-grandmother left Ireland when she was sixteen to escape being tried as a witch.’
Kade gaped at her. ‘A witch? No-one believes in that crap.’
She flicked him a quick glance full of ironic humour. ‘Not now, but a hundred plus years ago, yes. In the backwoods of Ireland where people still very much suspected witches and faery folk might really be true. I grew up on stories of the Sidhe—the faeries.’ She smiled wistfully. ‘My grandmother swore we were part sidhe. I used to dream it was true, hoping I could have a huge family that all understood me. That didn’t fear me.’
Kade interlaced his fingers behind his neck. ‘So your great-something-grannie came to America,’ he prompted. If she was willing to talk, he should listen. All the better for getting the truth about Carleton’s daughter from her.
Heather rested her head on one fist. Her eyelids drooped.
‘Mmmm. And at least one daughter in each generation has inherited the gift—if you can call it that—of healing. Sometimes stronger, sometimes weaker.’ She focussed far past him, into memory.
Kade observed her, fascinated by the play of emotion, not so much across her face, but beneath. He could almost feel the sadness, the pang of loss as she remembered.
‘Someone close to you?’ he guessed, wanting to snap her out of the past.
Heather closed her eyes. ‘Yes. My mother.’
As much as he wanted to soothe her, Kade had to keep his task in mind—and that meant knowing more about her so he could work ou
t how to get her safely to New York. He kept prodding. ‘What happened?’
Her mouth thinned and her eyes opened to focus on the fire. ‘She died ten years ago.’ Her voice was flat with old, suppressed pain.
Kade could almost feel her struggle not to break; not to burst into tears. This time he waited, so she could fill in the silence with truths. After several minutes, his patience was rewarded.
She looked at her own thin hands twisting together on the table. ‘She wore herself out trying to help every helpless, illegal, pregnant girl who crossed her path. I couldn’t bring her back. She was too tired. I tried but…she said I would drain myself and we’d both die. She made me let her go.’
Kade caught his breath at the break in her voice, wanting to hold her but afraid to at the same time lest they both be overwhelmed by emotion again. He was used to being in control. This emotional rollercoaster she generated in him was too hard to handle. His own fear of what she could do to his customary equanimity made his next words harsher than he intended.
‘Is that what you call what you do? Helping them?’
Heather gulped. ‘I try, but I can’t always save everyone.’
Kade needed to put distance between them. If he wasn’t careful he’d start believing in her and he couldn’t afford to do that. All the evidence he had seen proved her to be a reckless, careless, feckless bitch who played with people’s lives. How many women and babies had died in home-births through her negligence? The practice needed to stop.
He, at least, shouldn’t need to be reminded of that.
He surged up from the table and paced into the kitchen. Turning to lean on the counter, he threw his next words at her like a knife.
‘What right do you have to play God with people’s lives?’
HEATHER
Heather had had enough. Enough of the accusations and the misinformation; enough of the anger, pain and confusion pouring off him. She thrust herself upright, struggling to stand against the weakness of her knees. Glaring at him, she put all her remaining energy into her words.
‘Do you think it’s easy?’ She moved around the table, pinning him with an icy stare. ‘You think I decide who lives on some sort of whim? I have to make tough decisions. I can only save babies and mothers that can live without medical support after I go. I have limits, too. If they need a major operation or ongoing medical attention I can’t fix, then I can’t bring them back.
‘Each time it’s like dying myself. Each time it rips a piece of me away forever. Each baby that dies because their family is illegal and can’t afford fake papers. Because they can’t afford medical insurance. Because they’re too scared to go to hospital.’ She jabbed a finger at him. ‘Every single time I let one go that I just can’t save, I lose part of myself.’ She was only inches away now, but could hardly see him through the tears that blurred her vision.
He gripped her arms and she cried out against the flood of anger that flowed from him.
‘Why? It’s not your responsibility!’ He yelled and she wasn’t sure if he was angry at her or on her behalf.
Bracing her shaking knees, she tried to stay upright, but her strength was rapidly fading again. He sucked it from her through sheer force of personality, trying to assuage an ancient pain he’d somehow connected to her. His energy and passion was a flame and she the moth, burning.
She couldn’t stand against him. But if he didn’t let go she’d have no choice and she wouldn’t be able to control what happened next.
Gasping, she pushed feebly at his chest. ‘It is my responsibility. If I call an ambulance the family will disappear, or the mother will walk out of hospital and abandon the baby anyway, or the police and social services will get involved and deport them. Then they’ll try to return and maybe not make it this time. Or get sold into prostitution or worse.’
His touch gentled. Instead of shaking her, he led her toward the couch in front of the fire. She went in blind obedience, too tired to worry about trying to hide anything any longer. Kade knelt in front of her, rubbing her arms as she shivered.
‘Why do you do it?’ he asked roughly.
Finally, she faced him and saw reluctant belief. ‘Because it’s the only way I can make a difference. Because I can save most of them. In the last ten years I’ve helped almost a thousand babies born outside the system. I’ve only lost five, and three mothers. I think those are pretty good odds, considering.’
Kade released her and their connection was severed, scalpeled, lost.
‘What about Amali Carleton?’ he demanded.
‘Who?’ She was too exhausted to invent any stories, even if she knew who he was talking about. The room took on a faint sepia tinge and everything sounded distant and muffled.
Striding swiftly away, Kade reappeared with a small photograph and shoved it at her. Heather managed to focus on the image of a dark-haired girl.
She blinked, feeling drunk. ‘Oh. Amy. Yes. I didn’t know her real name.’
Again Kade grabbed her, this time stopping her from collapsing sideways to lie on the beckoning couch. ‘What was your excuse for letting her and her baby die?’
Heather chuckled weakly. His touch sucked more strength from her. Sleep called and she couldn’t fight it off any longer no matter how much he wanted her to.
‘I didn’t let her die. She had a difficult birth and I had to heal both her and the baby, but she was alive and so was her baby when I left them a year ago.’
KADE
‘What?’ Kade rocked on his heels. But it was impossible to doubt her. The truth of her statement bled through his touch—somehow. He scrubbed a hand through his hair, feeling thick-headed. ‘But her father sent me to find you. He said the birth had been mishandled. That his daughter and grandson were dead because of you. I’ve been tracking you for the last few months on his behalf.’
Heather sat straighter, her expression clouded with pain and weariness. Kade repressed a spurt of concern. He had to know the full story; had to get this sorted out now. He put space between them, needing some distance.
‘He lied.’ Her eyelids drooped and she visibly fought to stay awake. ‘Amy, her baby and her husband, David, were all perfectly healthy when I dropped in to see them three months ago.’
‘Three months ago? Where?’
She didn’t reply so he crouched in front of her again and shook her gently, trying to ignore the wave of weariness that oozed into his arms from her thin frame.
‘I can’t tell you,’ she finally said. ‘I promised. Amy’s father is hunting for her. The stupid thing is that he didn’t care when she left home. He only got angry when she married David. He hates David for some reason neither of them understand. If Amy wants Carleton to think she’s dead then she has a good reason.’ Heather covered Kade’s hands with hers. ‘Kade, she’s happy. She has a beautiful son. She loves her husband. He’s a good man. He left his career as a surgeon to keep her safe from Carleton. Let them be.’
Against his will, belief and agreement flowered in his mind. She was right. He should forget about Amali. She was happy.
Kade frowned. Why should he believe her word? He wrenched free from her touch. His mind cleared.
‘What?’ He jeered, trying to claw back his scepticism. ‘She wants to be out of her father’s life as a wealthy businessman? What’s so awful about that?’
‘A wealthy businessman. That’s rich.’ Heather sneered. ‘Maybe you need to spend more time doing background research on your clients and less time chasing me around the country. Frankly, I’m tired of changing identities and running. Leave Amy alone. Stay away from me. Let me do what I do best.’
He hesitated, torn between divided wants. ‘I’ve been paid to bring you to Carleton.’
She smiled faintly at him, sagging. ‘You only need to bring me to New York if Amy’s dead, right? Here.’ She fumbled in her purse and pulled out her phone. Angling it so he could see the screen, she pointed at the photo displayed there. ‘Look. Amy and her baby and her husband. Taken only t
hree months ago. See? The baby’s about eight months old, so no-one can possibly say he died in childbirth.’ Her eyes drifted closed and she slumped onto the white cushions.
Kade roused her lightly, then let go when her exhaustion all but smothered his own energies. Dammit. How did she do that?
‘Don’t you fall asleep now, Heather,’ he warned, worried by the pale cast to her skin. ‘We have to sort this out.’
She yawned, her head listing to one side. ‘Tell him you couldn’t find me. Show him the photo.’
Kade held her upright and snorted at her naivety. ‘He won’t believe me and he’ll say the photo’s a fake.’
‘Make him believe! Make him leave me alone. I’m too tired to run any more. Please?’
Her pleading almost broke him. If Carleton thought Heather was dead, he’d leave both women alone. Maybe that was the best thing for everyone. What harm would it do if he let her go? He didn’t need to take her to New York.
Kade rubbed at the base of his skull. No, that was stupid-thinking. Plain dumb. He scrutinised Heather, unable to hide astonished realisation. She was influencing his thoughts? Could that be it? He let go of her arm and the feelings diminished.
She was! Somehow she had the ability to project her emotions into his head when he touched her. That explained his fuzzy thinking. What else did it explain? His attraction to her? It would account for the strength of his desire, his crazy behaviour in that café bathroom.
He climbed jerkily to his feet, and glared at her, his anger fuelled partly by fear, partly by annoyance at her ability to manipulate his emotions.
‘Stop messing with my mind. You’re going to New York. You can explain it to Carleton yourself.’
Healing Heather Page 8
