Jacob cursed beneath his breath as he led them back to an examining room. Gareth deposited Gracie gently on the table. He touched her hair. “Should I stay?”
Before she could answer, Jacob held open the door. “No. We don’t need you for this.”
Again the two men bristled, but amazingly, Gareth bowed out and left the room.
Jacob turned to Gracie, his gaze a mix of professional assessment and personal concern. “Are you okay?”
Tears clogged her throat, but she was damned if she’d let them fall. “I did something stupid. It wasn’t Gareth’s fault.”
“Yeah, right.” The wry twist of his mouth said he didn’t believe a word of her defense. “I know my brother, Gracie. He’s hard as glass, not to mention stubborn. Let me look at you.”
Even the gentle probe of his fingers was painful. Her ankle looked dreadful, but fortunately the X-rays showed no sign of a break. After cleansing the cuts and abrasions, Jacob wrapped her foot and lower leg tightly in an ACE bandage. He worked in silence, his expression grave. “You can walk short distances without hurting anything, but ice it today while you’re resting. Ibuprofen will help.” He covered her feet in soft cotton socks.
When he was done, he sat down on a rolling stool and crossed his arms over his chest.
In that moment his resemblance to his brother was uncanny. He sighed. “I think you should let me take you home, Gracie.”
“Not yet,” she whispered. “My father’s out of the country, and I can’t exactly call someone in my list of phone contacts and tell them the truth. I have no way of knowing which ones are personal and which ones are business related. They would think I’m insane. Besides…” She paused and fumbled for an explanation. “Gareth—”
“If you’re hoping for something from him, you’ll never find it. Gareth doesn’t have much capacity for love or for trust. He was the only one of the six of us kids really old enough to remember our mother and our aunt. He was the only one they deemed able to go to the funeral.”
She bowed her head. “It makes me sick to think about it.” She didn’t mention the albums. Jacob might not know about them, and it wasn’t her place to reveal that secret.
“Gareth endured what no child should ever have to face. Not only the loss of a parent, but the violence of it…the public forum. Kieran and I were only four and five. We were protected from the worst of it.”
“But obviously you knew your mother wasn’t coming back.”
He shrugged. “Yeah. We got the speech about heaven and how much she loved us. I remember some bad dreams and feeling confused. But in the end, I was a kid…I got past it. Gareth wasn’t so lucky.”
“He’s still hurting, Jacob. A lot.”
“I know. And if you’re not careful, his pain will damage you as well.”
“He’s kind when he wants to be. And gentle.”
“Don’t go to Washington with him,” Jacob urged. “Don’t fall in love with him.”
“I don’t plan to,” she said, raising her head and meeting his gaze, hers bleak. “Fall in love, I mean. What would be the point?”
Jacob stood and put a hand on her shoulder. “Be strong, little Gracie. Concentrate on regaining your memory. You have a life waiting for you. I love my brother. He’s a complicated, wonderful man. But he’s no Prince Charming, despite the castle vibe around here.”
He kissed her cheek just as Gareth knocked impatiently and entered the room.
Jacob held up his hands when his brother’s eyes flashed with displeasure. “Doctor-patient privilege.”
Gareth scowled until his eyes landed on Gracie’s bandaged foot. His face softened, and he went to her, absentmindedly stroking her hair. “Did Jacob get you all fixed up?”
She nodded, her throat tight. “I could get used to having my own private physician on call.” Her attempt at a joke fell flat, none of the three of them in a mood for levity.
Gareth scooped her up for the return trip to the Jeep. “I owe you one, Jacob.”
Jacob followed them out. “Remember the ice. And elevate the ankle if you can. That will help with the swelling.”
It was warm outside. And Gareth had taken the cover off the Jeep while he waited. He tucked Gracie into her seat. She smiled at her physician. “Thank you, Jacob. You’re a wonderful doctor.”
Gareth snorted as he got in and started the engine. “If he was that good, he’d have cured your amnesia.”
“Gareth!” She punched his arm.
“Jacob knows I’m kidding.”
The brothers stared at one another over Gracie’s head. “He’s my big brother,” Jacob said. “I’m used to it.”
Back at the house, Gareth carried her again, despite her protests. He bypassed his room and took her straight to hers, depositing her gently on the bed. “I’ll get you some lunch.”
She lay still, studying patterns in the wooden raftered ceiling. Her brain didn’t want to think about anything more complicated than counting knotholes at the moment.
Gareth returned in short order with a tray set for two. The turkey and provolone sandwiches wouldn’t have passed muster for a Martha Stewart photo shoot, but the single pink rose he’d tucked into a tiny crystal pitcher drew attention away from the efforts of a clumsy chef.
He set the tray on the bedside table and perched beside her, taking a linen napkin and laying it across her lap. She accepted the glass of lemonade he offered and downed a thirsty gulp. “I’m not hungry,” she protested when he picked up a plate.
“You need to eat. Doctor’s orders.”
It was clear from his dogged expression that he would brook no protest. She tried to chew a few bites, but the food stuck in her throat. She dropped the half-eaten sandwich on her plate. “I really am sorry, Gareth. So sorry. I’ve intruded upon your life in so many ways, it appalls me. If you would rather I not go to Washington, Jacob will take me home.”
He leaned forward and rescued a crumb from her chin. “Did he put you up to that?”
She bit her lip, shifting restlessly. “He’s protective of you.”
“And you, I think.”
“Only in a professional capacity. You’re his major concern.”
“I’m a big boy. I can take care of myself. We’ll stick with the original plan. A couple of days in the Capitol and then we’ll see if your father has returned. I’m not taking you to Savannah until I know he’ll be there to look after you.” He sighed deeply and turned away from her, resting his elbows on his knees and dropping his head into his hands. “I owe you an explanation.”
She touched his shoulder, felt the rigid muscles. “You owe me nothing.”
He jumped to his feet and paced her elegant bedroom. “You’re the only person who has ever seen those albums.” She couldn’t see his face, but his body language shouted his unease.
“How is that possible? They weren’t exactly hidden.”
He shoved his hands in the back pocket of his jeans, his brooding masculine beauty threatening to take her breath away. “For years, I kept the newspaper and magazine clippings concealed in boxes under my bed. When I was fourteen, I persuaded my tutor to help me order the special albums. He was a nice guy. One of my favorite teachers ever, actually. But he got married and moved away…”
She remained silent, reluctant to halt the flow of his painful introspection.
Gareth continued. “Bit by bit…in secret…I started arranging all the papers by date and securing them in the books. I’m sure it was unhealthy…this obsession I had with the kidnapping and murder. But I couldn’t seem to let it go. One day my father caught me looking through my macabre collection and went practically apoplectic with rage. He ordered me to destroy the albums…called in one of the servants to take them away.”
“Oh, Gareth…”
“I begged, pleaded… He didn’t understand that those scraps of paper were all I had left of my mother. They were a connection, albeit a terrible one. A link that kept her alive in my memory.”
“What hap
pened then?”
“Our housekeeper saved the albums, secretly. Bless her dear old heart. Years later, when I was twenty-one, she produced them and said that I was old enough to decide their fate.”
“So you kept them.”
“I didn’t not keep them. I had changed, matured. I thought about destroying them…for my own mental health. But I was caught between the past and the present. It felt disloyal to wipe away my mother’s memory entirely.”
“But that’s not exactly what you would have been doing.”
“I understood that intellectually. But for whatever reason, I couldn’t do it…couldn’t get rid of them. My solution and the proof of my sanity was that I never once opened them…not even that first day. I’ve kept them the way a recovering alcoholic tucks away a bottle of gin. As a test.”
She felt sick. “And when you walked into the library today…”
“I saw that you had one of the albums spread on the sofa. I could see the picture from across the room. I overreacted. I’m sorry.”
She clambered from the bed, wincing as her abused feet made contact with the floor. His body was stiff, but she embraced him anyway, arms around his waist, her cheek tucked to his chest. “If you apologize again, I’ll smack you.”
That coaxed a grin from him. “You’re mighty fierce.” He hugged her tightly, releasing some of her tension. “You don’t have to be afraid of me. I’m not crazy, Gracie. Honest to God.”
She smiled, releasing him. “No one ever said you were.”
“I’ll get rid of them if you think I should.”
The import of that single sentence jangled in her brain. This was too intense, especially for someone who couldn’t remember what she ate for breakfast last week. “I think they can go back into the cabinet for the moment. No harm, no foul. Do you want me to take care of it?”
“Already did,” he said gruffly. “And no…I didn’t look at them.”
“It would have been okay if you had.”
“Not to me. I’m done with that part of my life. My brothers and my cousins and I have moved on.”
And it was time for her to do the same. She reached for her cell, and put it on speaker phone. “Listen to this.”
“You have reached Edward Darlington, owner and operator of Darlington Gallery in Savannah, Georgia. I’m out of the country at the moment, and the gallery is closed. Hope to be back in my office next week. Please leave a message. Oh, yes and if this is Gracie, don’t give up, baby girl. Make it happen. Make me proud.”
Gareth’s face darkened. “No offense, but I’m not a big fan of your dad. And I’ve never even met the guy.”
“What do you think he wants? Do you by any chance paint in addition to making furniture?”
“No.” His lashes flickered as if he had thought of something she hadn’t. “And I don’t have a clue what he wants. He owns a gallery. Maybe he’s like the senator. Thinks that having me do a public appearance will help his bottom line.”
“But that doesn’t make sense. I don’t even know you. And I approached you under less than ideal circumstances. Surely he knew the answer to any request like that would be a resounding no.”
“Maybe he thought your charm would win me over. You are kind of cute and cuddly.”
“Kind of?” She pretended to scowl.
He surprised her with a hungry kiss. “Men are weak,” he mumbled, kissing his way along her neck. “Maybe your dad is smarter than we think.”
She wriggled free, suddenly less amused. “I have old messages from clients on my phone. Maybe he wanted to sell you something.”
Exasperation marked his features. “I don’t know. I wish the hell I did. But we’ll find out. I promise you.”
Ten
Gracie improved rapidly. Seventy-two hours later, her ankle was sore but in working order. Her head barely ached at all. Cuts and bruises had begun to fade, and Jacob was able to remove the handful of stitches from her leg.
Gareth disappeared for the most part. He holed up in his workshop, avoiding Gracie much of the day. When they were together, he seemed ill at ease, lending credence to her theory that he was not happy that he had shared so many intimate details of his life with her.
The evening meal was their only contact of any length, and even then he ate his food, drank his wine and conversed only at a bare minimum. After the first awkward day, Gracie gave up, retreating into silence herself and pretending that she had never seen Gareth Wolff naked.
She put the hours she was alone to good use, combing newspapers and magazines, as well as scouring the internet for information about the world in general and her place in it in particular. Her father’s gallery had a website, but her name wasn’t listed anywhere. She studied the photos, and though it all seemed vaguely familiar, even looking at the head shot of Edward Darlington produced nothing more than a nagging sense of anxiety.
Articles about Savannah caught her eye. She studied photographs of the old Southern city…read stories about its history. Little flashes, snippets of recollections, reassured her that the entire picture would soon slip into focus. Her life wasn’t a blank slate. It was there, waiting. All she had to do was be patient.
Easier said than done when she lay in bed at night, her body yearning for Gareth’s possession. She was poised on the blade of a two-edged sword. If she remembered everything, her time with Gareth would come to a messy end. But if the amnesia continued, she still had only a short window to savor his protectiveness and his sensual attentions. Very soon, she would go home and try to find her past, bit by bit.
Gareth sought her out on the fourth morning after the photo album contretemps. She was in the library searching for any book that might spark a memory. He braced his hands in the doorway as if not trusting himself to go in. “We’re leaving at noon. Does that work for you?” His eyes were hooded. The dark smudges beneath them indicated restless sleep.
She wanted to help, but she didn’t know how. Moving toward him with the caution afforded an unpredictable animal, she smiled hesitantly. “Will Jacob be taking us to the airport?”
A glint of humor danced across his face. “No.”
“We’re driving?” Several hours in the confined intimacy of a car seemed dangerous.
“No.”
Hands on hips, she shot him a threatening stare. “Then how are we getting there?”
Gracie Darlington was about as threatening as a kitten. “You’ll see.” He loved teasing her. The pink in her cheeks and the flustered look in her eyes made him want to devour her one sensual inch at a time. He cleared his throat. “Your suitcase was delivered a little while ago. Annalise didn’t want to send it to the hotel and risk anything getting lost. She assures me that you’ll be covered for any fashion emergency…with the possible exception of a White House state dinner.”
“What should I wear for travel?” The suspicion on her face hadn’t abated.
He shrugged. “Comfortable. Smart casual. She sent a garment bag, too. You’ll probably find what you need in there.”
For a moment, the combative kitten appeared unusually upset. “I don’t even know if I can afford to repay you,” she fretted. “Your sister must have spent thousands of dollars.”
He muttered a curse. “For God’s sake. I have enough money to outfit you in something new every day from now until we both keel over dead. Forget about it.” He reached for her hand, dragged her out into the hall, closed the library door and backed her up against it, crowding her deliberately with his considerable size advantage.
When she opened her mouth to continue the argument, he shut her up the quickest way he knew how. “Shh, Gracie.” He loved the way her body went lax when his mouth captured hers. “I’ve missed you.”
She nipped his bottom lip with sharp teeth. “I’m not the one who’s been hiding out.”
“I’ve been working,” he said, setting the record straight. Wolff men didn’t hide from anything. “I’m sorry if you felt neglected. I’ll make it up to you this weekend.”
She closed her eyes, a dreamy smile tilting lush, pink lips. “I may not know much, but I’m pretty sure someone must have warned me about men like you.”
“I’m harmless.” Her quick gurgle of laughter eased into a sigh of pleasure that hardened his shaft painfully and quickly. Staying away from her for several days had seemed the smart thing to do. Hearing her father’s sleazy voice on the phone recording had reminded Gareth of all the reasons he shouldn’t trust her.
So he went cold turkey. No Gracie. Period.
But he had ached, God, how he ached. Already his body knew hers, remembered the jolt of pleasure that threatened to pull him under when he entered her. Soft skin, soft breasts, soft everything. A softness so beautiful a man could bury himself in it willingly and never surface again.
He cupped her ass. “You need to know something, though.”
Her pelvis was pressed to his with predictable results. “What?”
“I’ve booked two rooms at the hotel in D.C. You don’t have to go there as my lover. We can be friends if that’s what you want.”
She pulled back and searched his face. “You’re serious.” It was a statement, not a question.
He tucked a silky curl behind her shell-like ear. “Jacob has been on my case. And I feel a certain need to protect you from myself.”
“Is that even possible?”
“Hell if I know.” He kissed her again. “I don’t want you to think badly of me when this all ends.”
The happiness on her face dimmed. “You haven’t done anything wrong. Why would I think that?”
“I should never have made love to you.”
She stiffened in his embrace. “That was my fault. And I’ve already apologized.”
The strangled hurt in her voice made him swear again. “I don’t want your regrets or your apology. All I want is you.” He picked her up, pressing his erection against her in a move that made them both gasp.
She circled his waist with her legs. “I want you, too. And the trip to D.C. is not going to be platonic. You know it and I know it. But it would be nice if you could act a little happier about it.”
Into His Private Domain Page 9