The Secret Heiress

by Terri Reed

  He closed his eyes, allowing himself to savor the moment for what it was. A moment in time that would end once they broke free of the attic.

  FIVE

  “You know I was engaged once, right?” Caroline asked quietly.

  Don sucked in a breath. Empathy tightened his throat, making his voice sound constricted. He knew her fiancé had died. “Kris mentioned it.”

  “Cullen.” The sadness in her tone stabbed at him. She still grieved. “We met at Boston University our senior year. We dated for four years before we became engaged.”

  “How long has he been gone?” he asked gently.

  “Two years this New Year’s Day. He went skiing in Berkshire East, and had a bad fall.”

  The subtle change in her tone was unmistakable. Anger.

  “I didn’t want him to go, and we fought about it that morning on the phone. He was supposed to come to New Hampshire and spend the day with my family. But he chose not to. Our last words were said in anger.”

  Don winced, hurting for her. She’d not only lost the man she loved, but their last words had been part of an argument. He could hear the anguish in her tone, feel it in her body. Was the undertone of anger directed at herself or at Cullen? Don soothed a hand down her back. “Don’t remember the anger. Remember the good times, the love you shared.”

  “Sometimes it hurts too much to do that.”

  His heart squeezed tight recognizing the truth in her words. “I understand.”

  “You do?” Curiosity echoed in her voice. “Who did you lose?”

  “My mom. To pancreatic cancer.”

  Without lifting her head from his shoulder, she placed her hand over his heart, burning a hole right through him. “I’m so sorry. That’s a bad one.”

  “Yeah, it was.” He fought the memories, the sorrow. “I was in Iraq when I got the call. I returned home to care for her. She went fast once the diagnosis came in.”

  “Were you close?”

  He thought about the question. “Not sure close is the right word. We had a strained relationship. She always said I was too much like my father—and not in a good way.”

  She drew back. “Is it just you and your dad now?”

  Her question poked at an old wound, one he wanted to go away. “No. My dad took off when I was eleven.”

  She made an anguished noise and flexed her fingers against his chest. Her touch was protective and soothing and making him ache something fierce.

  “I didn’t know.”

  “How could you? It’s not something I like to talk about.” Maybe it was the anonymity of the dark, the warmth of holding Caroline so close, or just the need to speak that made him add, “He was a loser. Couldn’t hack the responsibility of a family. Left us to fend for ourselves.”

  “You never heard from him again?”

  He swallowed back the anger, the hurt. “No. Never. As a kid I cried out to God to bring my father back. As an adult I’d cried out to God to heal my mom as she lay dying. My prayers had fallen on deaf ears.”

  “No. Just because you didn’t get the answer you wanted doesn’t mean God wasn’t listening. Sometimes silence means no.”

  “I suppose you’re right. I doubt I’d have any faith left if not for the times I’d felt God’s presence while in the heat of a war zone.”

  “The world isn’t all bad, though,” she said, slipping her arms around him in a comforting embrace. “There’s beauty and goodness, too. God is present all the time.”

  “I’ll need to remember that.”

  She tilted her head. His breath caught and held as she placed a gentle kiss on his jaw, igniting a longing that jolted through him.

  “Caroline.”

  Her name came out a warning, a craving. Her small hands gripped his head and drew him close until she found his mouth. Lost in the moment, he returned the kiss, reveling in her warm and pliant lips. So inviting. The kiss deepened to a threatening level. Alarm sirens went off in his head. They were marching toward disaster. Each second brought them closer to a land mine that would disintegrate them both.

  He broke the kiss. The sounds of their ragged breathing roared in his ears. Slowly he disengaged from her with an apology on his lips. “That shouldn’t have happened. I overstepped myself. I broke the rules. It won’t happen again.”

  Her silence scored him. “Caroline?”

  “Can we get out of here now?” she asked.

  His heart twisted in his chest. He’d broken Rule Number Three—Keep Your Hands to Yourself.

  Angry at himself, he flipped on the flashlight. The weak beam dispelled the shadows and accentuated the hurt on Caroline’s face. His heart squeezed the breath from his lungs. The last thing he ever wanted to do was hurt her.

  But he had.

  He was supposed to protect her, not kiss her.

  He’d made a tactical error. She was vulnerable right now, still grieving her fiancé, reeling from learning of her birth mother and her Mississippi family. He’d added to her pain by allowing his attraction to complicate her life.

  He needed to get his head on straight, dial down his attraction and remember his duty. Protect his client from all danger.

  Including him.

  She climbed down without another word.

  He followed. Though the stench from the smoke bombs lingered in the air, he could breathe easily enough. He went to the shelves and rummaged around.

  “What are you looking for?” Caroline asked.

  “A screwdriver.”

  “I think I saw one.” She moved to one of the rounded-top trunks and dug inside. Holding up a Philips head, she asked, “Will this work?”

  He closed his hand over hers. For a moment neither spoke. She tugged her hand free, leaving him with the screwdriver.

  “Caroline—”

  She held up her hand. “Please. Just forget it.”

  Forgetting how she felt in his arms, tasted on his lips, was not going to happen anytime soon. But dwelling on his infraction wouldn’t get them out of the attic. He went to work at removing the locked doorknob to the hall. The thing came readily apart.

  “Wait!” Caroline headed back up the stairwell to the attic. “We forgot the Christmas decorations.”

  She still wanted to decorate the house. Even after being smoked out. Amazing.

  Caroline arranged the nativity set on the large round table in the entryway. The little porcelain figurines depicting shepherds, animals, Mary and Joseph and baby Jesus felt cold to the touch. Much like how her heart felt.

  What had she been thinking to initiate that kiss?

  She slanted a glance to the archway between the library and the entryway where Don was hanging an ornament from a small gold hook. When they’d first emerged from the attic, he’d shared his suspicions with her that Lilly or Landon had been behind the smoke bomb, then he’d gone straight to the parlor to confront the kids. But everyone must have retired for the night. She’d convinced him to wait until morning. She could see how raw his emotions were and figured waiting until their emotions cooled so the confrontation didn’t turn hostile was probably the best path to take. He’d reluctantly agreed. Secretly, she was glad to have some time to get her own emotions in order, especially when they came to him.

  There had been such pain in his voice as he talked of his mother’s death and his father’s desertion. His tale of how the war in the Middle East had left him with the scars of PTSD had hurt her heart. She’d been driven by the need to offer comfort, but the attraction she’d been fighting since the day she’d first laid eyes on him over a year ago had pushed her over the starting line. She’d raced headlong into impulsivity. One chaste kiss on his chin hadn’t been enough. She’d practically thrown herself at him by boldly drawing his mouth to h
ers.

  At least he’d had the good sense to raise the checkered flag and end the kiss. Oh, but she’d enjoyed kissing him.

  Getting involved with her bodyguard would be a big mistake and she’d end up hurt and alone come New Year’s if she did something so impulsive again. He was a by-the-book kind of guy and she…well, she tended to make up the rules as she went.

  With resolve to not give in to her feelings, she turned her attention to wrapping the banister in some fake evergreen garland.

  “Here,” Don said, handing her an ornament. “We can hang these from the greenery.

  She took the ornament, pleased by his suggestion. “Good idea.”

  His gaze searched her face. “Caroline—”

  Afraid he wanted to discuss the kiss, she said quickly, “Would you mind hanging the jingle-bell wreath on the front door?”

  His mouth quirked, making it clear he knew what she was doing. “Sure.”

  When they were done, she was pleased with their effort. The house needed some festivity to chase away the gloomy atmosphere pervading the place. “I hope the family will like it.”

  Don slipped his arm around her waist. “How could they not? You did a great job.”

  “We did a great job.” For a moment she was tempted to melt into his arms. But doing so wouldn’t lead anywhere either of them wanted to go. Instead, she walked away to push the empty boxes out of the way and into the corner.

  Don snagged her hand. “We can take care of those in the morning. You need to sleep.”

  She allowed him to tug her toward the stairs. Fatigue made lifting one foot in front of the other difficult. She missed a step and would have fallen face-first into the stairs, but Don’s strong arms slid around her, steadying her. With a firm grip, he propelled her to her room and pushed the door open. He stepped in and used the flashlight’s beam to make sure the room was secure. She appreciated his thoroughness.

  “I’m across the hall if you need anything.”

  “I know, Don. That’s why I hired you.” She slipped into the room and closed the door firmly behind her and locked it.

  She only hoped she could close the door on the memories of their kiss just as easily.

  A rustling sound from the far corner of the bedroom raised the fine hairs on Caroline’s nape. She lay still, not even remotely sleepy. The storm had quieted down outside. The noise disturbing the silence of her bedroom was definitely coming from inside the dark room. She bolted upright and clutched the fluffy comforter closer.

  An inky shadow passed in front of the window. She froze.

  Her breath hitched. Her heart stalled out.

  Someone was in her room.

  Adrenaline spiked, sending her senses careening. She shoved the covers aside and scrambled across the bed. A hand closed over her ankle. A scream burst from her lungs. Terrified, she twisted so she could strike out with her free foot.

  Her first attempt missed. Her attacker dragged her closer. She bucked and kicked out again. Her arms flaying as she bent forward and pounded her fists against the hard muscled arms trying to subdue her. A hand yanked a handful of her hair, snapping her head back in a painful burst. Tight fingers groped for her throat and squeezed, cutting off her air supply.

  Fresh panic galvanized her. She fought with the fury of survival. Her heel connected with a well-landed shot to the abdomen, eliciting a painful groan. The steel bands gripping her weakened. Taking advantage, she jerked out of her attacker’s grasp and crawled off the opposite edge of the bed onto the floor. With another scream she bolted for the door, praying she’d make it.

  A piercing scream jackknifed through Don. He’d dozed off, needing to recharge. Now wide awake, he rolled off the bed, snagging the flashlight as he went. He flicked on the beam of light and with his right hand grabbed his Glock from between the mattress and box spring. His legs propelled him forward just as the bedroom door burst open. Caroline launched herself at him.

  She trembled against him. “Someone’s in my room! He tried to strangle me.”

  Alarm ripped along Don’s nerve endings. He put her behind him and hurried across the hall, leading with his gun, and the flashlight illuminating the way. He swept the beam of light around Caroline’s room. Empty. Just as it had been earlier.

  Frustration pounded at his temple. He jammed his sidearm into the waistband of his sweat pants and pulled his shirt over it. Whoever had been in her room had escaped. Family member? Or a stranger? If the latter, how had they entered the house? He needed to contact the authorities, get an investigation team here and find the culprit.

  “What’s happening?” Abigail said as she came down the hall with a candle held in her hand. The flowing robe she wore swirled as she came to a stop.

  “We heard you scream,” Samuel added, stepping up behind his wife. He’d changed into plaid pj’s.

  From the opposite direction the twins ran down the hall, the beams of light from their flashlights bouncing as they came. Landon’s T-shirt had a silkscreen on the front from a recent teen movie. Lilly wore black baggie sweats that made her impish face seem more pasty white than olive in the dim light.

  A door farther down the hall that led to the upstairs rooms adjacent to the attic banged open. Mary, clutching the front of her terry robe, and Horace, still dressed in his dark suit, joined them.

  “Sir, is everything all right?” Horace asked.

  “There was someone in my room,” Caroline said, fisting the back of Don’s shirt.

  Abigail gasped. “An intruder?”

  “I couldn’t see who it was. He tried to strangle me.” She pushed back the collar of her shirt to show the marks left by the intruder.

  Don hated how shaky Caroline’s voice sounded. “Whoever it was could still be in the house.”

  The frantic ring of a bell filled the hall.

  “Elijah!” Caroline whirled and raced toward his room. Alarmed by Caroline’s lack of regard for her own safety, Don chased after her. The family followed quickly behind.

  Elijah’s bell quieted as they shoved their way into the room. A hurricane lamp glowed beside the bed revealing his panicked state.

  “What’s going on? I heard someone scream,” Elijah said.

  Abigail pushed past Caroline to take Elijah’s hand. “Caroline had a scare. Most likely a nightmare. Nothing for you to get upset about.”

  Suspicion reared. Why would she downplay the attack? To protect Elijah or because she was involved?

  “It wasn’t a nightmare,” Caroline said, pulling aside her robe again to show the bruises forming on her neck. “Someone was there. They must have escaped when I ran into Don’s room.”

  Don concluded the same thing. If he thought she’d be safe with these people he’d go make a sweep of the place, but he wasn’t leaving Caroline’s side. He groped for a cell phone that wasn’t there. “We need to contact the police.

  “No one was hurt,” Samuel said hastily. “Surely we don’t need to drag the sheriff out at this hour. Tomorrow will be soon enough to inform the authorities.”

  Don narrowed his gaze on Samuel. Why would the man want to keep this quiet? Unless…was he the attacker? Or did he know who it was? If the attacker didn’t live in the house, he’d have needed someone to let him in. Rather than outright confronting him, Don challenged, “If the intruder is still in the house the whole family is in danger, right?”

  Fear flared in Samuel’s face. Was he afraid for his family’s safety or afraid his accomplice would be found?

  Horace cleared his throat. “I’ll contact Sheriff Gantz.”

  Don’s whipped his attention to the butler. “How?”

  With a quick glance toward Elijah, who gave an approving nod, Horace said, “I have satellite phone in my quarters.”

  Anger stirred in D
on’s gut. Horace and Samuel had held out on him. Was the whole household in cahoots?

  With a huff, Samuel headed toward the door. “I’ll check all the doors and windows and look for signs of anyone hiding in the house.”

  “Can I come, too?” Landon asked. The expression on his young face showed his eagerness for adventure.

  Samuel hesitated, what appeared to be concern flashing in his eyes, and then he relented. “Come along.”

  Grinning, Landon followed Samuel out. Lilly started to leave behind the men.

  “Lilly, can you please bring your grandfather some fresh water?” Abigail called.

  “I can get it, Mrs. Maddox,” Mary said, stepping forward to take the empty water goblet from the bedside table.

  “Very well,” Abigail said. She left Elijah’s side to usher her daughter out of the room. “Come along, Lilly.”

  Once they were alone with Elijah, Caroline hurried to his side. “I’m so sorry to have frightened you.”

  “Nonsense, child. You’re the one who had the scare. I fear this house may not be safe for you.”

  “He may be right,” Don said, glad the old man had brought it up. He couldn’t wait to get Caroline out of this den of vipers. “Maybe we could find a hotel.” He knew better than to suggest they leave Mississippi altogether. Would she accept this compromise?

  “No. I can’t. Not until I know for sure no one here is in danger.”

  Don knew that tone in her voice. It was the same one she’d used when she’d informed him she was coming to Mississippi with or without him. Don blew out a breath. Once Caroline made up her mind, he doubted much would change it. Though he admired her determination and feisty spirit, she wasn’t making his job of protecting her any easier.

  “I couldn’t bear if something happened to you,” Elijah said. His gaze sought Don. “There are secret passageways in this house. You need to find them.”

  Surprise rooted Don to the floor. “I will.”

  Mary returned with a full glass of water. “Drink some of this, Mr. Maddox.”