Ready for Marriage?

by Beverly Barton; Ann Major Anne Marie Winston

  ‘‘Did you have anything to do with her death?’’

  ‘‘No! Of course not.’’ He looked sincerely shocked. ‘‘What kind of man do you think I am?’’

  ‘‘I don’t know,’’ she said. A wave of sadness surged. ‘‘I don’t seem to know the men around me nearly as well as I thought I did.’’ She rose from the chair. ‘‘Do you want to get your coat and come with me?’’

  ‘‘Come where?’’ He blinked at the abrupt change of subject.

  ‘‘To the police station,’’ she said impatiently, starting for the door. ‘‘Where else? You embezzled money, Rusty.’’

  ‘‘Dammit, Kristin!’’ Rusty’s voice was frantic. He followed her out the hallway to the front door. ‘‘Look, this can be fixed. Just give me some time to pay back the money I borrowed.’’

  ‘‘You didn’t borrow it,’’ she said sternly. ‘‘You stole it from a nonprofit organization doing charitable work. There’s a big difference.’’

  ‘‘Okay,’’ he said, shrugging. ‘‘I stole it.’’ He caught at her hand. ‘‘But—’’

  The door slammed open. ‘‘Get your hands up where I can see them!’’

  The noise and yelling voices were paralyzing and she froze as three uniformed men suddenly rushed into the room with guns drawn. Guns! Slowly, she raised her hands in the air, but the officers rushed right by her and slammed Rusty against a wall. As she gaped in astonishment, he was searched and cuffed and read his rights.

  ‘‘Kris.’’ A deep, quiet male voice, a familiar voice, called her name and she turned back to the doorway as a fourth officer stepped aside and allowed Derek to enter the room. He crossed to her and took her elbows. ‘‘Are you okay?’’

  ‘‘Of course I’m okay.’’ She pulled free and indicated the police who were escorting Rusty from the room. ‘‘What are they doing?’’

  His eyebrows rose. ‘‘They’re taking Rusty into custody for suspected embezzlement.’’

  ‘‘But…how would they know that? Are they sure enough to be arresting him?’’

  ‘‘You mean other than the fact that we all heard you elicit his confession?’’

  ‘‘Other than that,’’ she said tightly.

  ‘‘I called Walker Glave this morning and told him our suspicions,’’ Derek said, mentioning the president of the board. ‘‘Apparently, Cathie had come to him the day before she died with information about it and he was waiting, trying to decide what to do. You were on his list of people to speak to about it, but when we talked, he decided to go to the police immediately.’’

  ‘‘So the timing of the arrest was coincidental?’’ That was hard to believe.

  ‘‘No,’’ he said patiently. ‘‘When I realized where you were, I called them right away.’’

  ‘‘How did you know I was going to talk with Rusty?’’ she asked.

  Derek smiled. ‘‘Kris, I know you. When something’s bothering you, you tackle it head-on. I was halfway to work when it dawned on me that the minute I left you alone you’d confront Rusty. And when I realized that, my blood ran cold. Anyone who is capable of embezzling that much money and blaming it on a dead woman who can’t defend herself might be capable of a lot worse.’’

  ‘‘He said he didn’t have anything to do with Cathie’s death, that it was an accident.’’

  ‘‘I bet he also said he didn’t take the money.’’

  She didn’t smile. She couldn’t. The phrase ‘‘I know you,’’ brought her feelings of betrayal rushing back full force. When he moved to take her in his arms, she stepped back a pace without really thinking about it. ‘‘When were you going to tell me about your bank balance?’’ she asked. ‘‘I thought I knew you, too, but it turns out I was wrong.’’

  His face changed, and her last hope that perhaps it was a mistake and he hadn’t really deceived her died. His gaze flicked sideways at the cop standing nearby. ‘‘Could you excuse us for a few minutes, please?’’

  ‘‘Sure,’’ the officer said. ‘‘But don’t leave yet. The detectives are going to want to hear what you know about this guy.’’ He hooked a thumb over his shoulder to where Rusty sat in the squad car in handcuffs.

  Derek indicated a small room just beyond the office, an employee lounge where Kristin had come before for short meetings on sanctuary business. She hesitated a moment. The last thing she wanted to do was go into that little room with him.

  Derek must have read her refusal in her face. ‘‘Kris,’’ he said in an implacable tone. ‘‘In here. Now.’’

  Her temper flared and she welcomed it. Anything was better than the dull hurt that gnawed at her insides. ‘‘I don’t want to talk to you.’’ It felt childish but she was too close to tears to think of something more sophisticated to say.

  ‘‘You don’t have to talk. All you have to do is listen.’’ Derek took her arm in an unbreakable grip. He wasn’t hurting her but he didn’t release her until he had towed her into the small room off Rusty’s office and shut the door. ‘‘Now,’’ he said. ‘‘Get it off your chest. You’re mad because you think I hid my wealth from you on purpose.’’

  ‘‘You did,’’ she said. ‘‘All these years…’’ She shook her head. ‘‘I can’t marry you now.’’

  ‘‘What?’’ If she’d set a match to a dynamite stick, she couldn’t have gotten much more of a reaction. It wasn’t a shout, it wasn’t a demand. It was a roar. ‘‘Why the hell not?’’

  ‘‘Because,’’ she said. ‘‘I’d feel funny marrying a man for his money.’’

  ‘‘I didn’t think you would,’’ he said. ‘‘I thought you were marrying me because you love me.’’

  She flinched, and didn’t speak. What response could she make to that?

  ‘‘Kris.’’ Derek dropped his voice to a low, intimate register. ‘‘Honey, will you give me a chance to explain? All you have to do is listen. Then, I promise, if you want to leave you can.’’

  She couldn’t look at him. It hurt too much. She was incredibly humiliated that she’d been so wrong all these years about him. She thought she knew him. Ha! He was a multimillionaire.

  ‘‘I grew up in a regular middle-class family just like you,’’ he said. ‘‘My mom was a teacher, my dad was an electrician who owned his own company. When I was a junior in high school, they celebrated their twenty-fifth wedding anniversary by taking a trip to the Caribbean. They never came home.’’

  ‘‘What happened?’’ There was remembered anguish in his tone and she wasn’t hard-hearted enough to resist that.

  ‘‘They were snorkeling when a boat came roaring around a rocky outcropping and plowed right into them. They were side by side and they both died instantly.’’ He took a deep breath. ‘‘The young man who killed them was a Saudi playboy, a prince in line for his father’s sheikdom.’’

  Her eyes widened. She supposed she’d thought he was going to say something about insurance money.

  ‘‘The sheik was furious with his son, but he still managed to avoid having that damned killer face prosecution.’’

  She drew in a sharp breath. ‘‘But that’s wrong!’’

  ‘‘Yeah.’’ His laugh was slightly bitter. ‘‘The sheik gave my brother and me each ten million dollars—like that’s supposed to make me feel better that Mollie will never know how terrific her grandparents were. He also kicked his son out of line to inherit, which was personally a lot more satisfying to me than getting any money.’’ He drew a breath. ‘‘Anyway, my brother’s a Wall Street whiz and he manages the money for me. I honestly don’t think much about the fact that I’m…’’

  ‘‘Rich?’’

  ‘‘Well, yeah.’’ He tried a tentative smile.

  ‘‘You were the anonymous donor to the sanctuary.’’

  ‘‘Guilty.’’

  She felt the tears well. ‘‘You made my dad very happy.’’

  ‘‘It made me happy,’’ he said. ‘‘Your father had great vision. Without him, there would be no sanctuary. I just helped him r
ealize his dream a little sooner than later.’’

  There was a brief moment of silence.

  ‘‘So,’’ Derek said. ‘‘Are you ready to go home now? I’m sure we can talk to the police later.’’

  ‘‘I guess,’’ she said slowly.

  ‘‘And the other?’’ A note of uncertainty entered his voice. ‘‘Will you stay?’’

  She couldn’t prevent the involuntary, brief shake of her head.

  ‘‘Why not?’’ he demanded. ‘‘I explained about the money. Kris, you know me better than I know myself in all the important ways. I should have told you before but I honestly didn’t think about it. We love each other. How can you walk away from that?’’ There was a note of naked desperation in his voice now.

  It was a moment before the sense of what he’d said jelled. ‘‘We…love each other?’’ she said faintly.

  ‘‘Don’t we?’’ Uncertainty shone in his eyes. ‘‘You told me you loved me.’’

  ‘‘I do,’’ she said softly, ‘‘but you never said you loved me.’’

  He looked sheepish. ‘‘Of course I love you. It just took me a while to admit it to myself. I never would have asked you to marry me if I hadn’t fallen in love with you.’’ He paused. ‘‘Do you believe me?’’

  She shrugged. ‘‘You want a mother for Mollie. And companionship. And we share a lot of history. We’ve been friends for a long time.’’

  ‘‘I’ve been friends with Faye for a long time, too, and I didn’t ask her to marry me,’’ he pointed out.

  ‘‘A month ago you thought I was nuts for suggesting marriage. I know you want me now, but I’m not stupid enough to think that sex and love are the same thing.’’

  ‘‘They are for this guy,’’ he said, his eyes very blue and incredibly warm as he took her into his arms. ‘‘I love you, Kris. I didn’t want to admit how empty my life was, but you dragged me out of my cave and loved me until I couldn’t help loving you back. Please say you’ll stay and marry me.’’

  She smiled up at him as she wound her arms around his neck. ‘‘All right,’’ she said. ‘‘I’ll marry you.’’

  ‘‘And love me forever.’’

  ‘‘And love you forever.’’

  And as he sought her mouth, she lifted her face to his, all doubt erased. Derek loved her. She’d waited patiently for him to grieve and begin to live again. And all the while she’d quietly loved him, so quietly that she hadn’t even realized it when he’d begun to love her in return. But now, now she knew.

  And the future had never looked brighter.

  * * * * *

  Laying His Claim

  BEVERLY BARTON

  BEVERLY BARTON

  has been in love with romance since her grandfather gave her an illustrated book of Beauty and the Beast. After marriage to her own “hero” and the births of her daughter and son, Beverly chose to be a full-time homemaker, aka wife, mother, friend and volunteer. The author of over thirty-five books, Beverly is a member of Romance Writers of America and helped found the Heart of Dixie chapter in Alabama. She has won numerous awards and has made the USA TODAY bestseller list.

  To my children and grandchildren:

  Badiema, Roger, Brant, Jana, Braden and Bryce.

  And to my husband, Billy.

  Life gives us no greater treasure

  than the blessing of a family.

  Prologue

  The springtime sunshine shimmered through the stained-glass windows in the old Congregational church. Built in 1834 by Prospect, Alabama’s wealthiest families, the magnificent brick structure had withstood the ravages of time, even the War Between the States, and with loving care and several restorations, stood today as not only a house of worship, but a historical treasure. Although she often felt out of place in the church her husband’s family had helped establish, Kate attended services every Sunday with Trent and his aunt Mary Belle, Prospect’s social grande dame and the bane of Kate’s existence. It wasn’t that Aunt Mary Belle was ever openly rude to Kate; the exact opposite was true. She smiled at her nephew’s wife, patted her affectionately on the back and sung her praises to everyone within earshot. But in subtle ways the woman never let Kate forget that she wasn’t quite worthy of Trenton Bayard Winston IV and took it upon herself to continuously tutor Kate on the proper way to do absolutely everything.

  Kate refused to allow Aunt Mary Belle to ruin this glorious Easter Sunday—Mary Kate’s first Easter. She wanted the day to be perfect for her two-month-old daughter, the joy of her life. Despite the fact that Aunt Mary Belle had chosen both Kate’s and Mary Kate’s Easter frocks and decided on the luncheon menu, at least Kate had been allowed to put together her child’s first Easter basket. Whenever she complained to Trent, asking him why they couldn’t move out of the family mansion—another Prospect historical landmark that dated to the early part of the nineteenth century—he’d kiss and hug her and plead with her to be patient and understanding with his aunt.

  “I know Aunt Mary Belle can be overbearing, but she means well,” Trent had said numerous times. “This is my home—our home—as well as hers. She’s like a mother to me. How could I ask her to leave? After all, she was born in this house and has lived here all her life. I grew up here and want to raise my children here, too.”

  So for nearly two years Kate had endured Aunt Mary Belle’s overbearing guidance, but since Mary Kate’s birth, the situation had grown worse. Although she never came right out and said as much, it was obvious that Aunt Mary Belle believed she and she alone should have the last word on how her great-niece was raised. For over two months now, Kate had smiled when she wanted to cry. She’d bitten her tongue to keep from lashing out and she’d agreed to things she hated, in order to keep peace in the family. But she had decided things simply had to change—and soon. She wanted a home of her own and this time when she told Trent she wanted them to move, she wouldn’t let him sweet-talk her into staying. As much as she loved Trent—and she all but worshiped the ground he walked on—she could not live the rest of her life being treated at best like an ignorant child and at worst like a servant.

  “Why don’t we walk home from church today?” Kate suggested to Trent. “It’s only a few blocks and it’s such a beautiful day.” She wanted time alone with her husband this afternoon so she could lead him by the cottage on Madison Avenue. The house had been empty for several years and although it needed some repairs, it was still a lovely home. The place consisted of a huge lot and the house itself was probably a good three-thousand square feet, large by most standards, although much smaller than Winston Hall, which boasted over ten-thousand square feet.

  “Not today, Kate. You know Aunt Mary Belle has invited the minister and his family to dinner with us and—”

  “Please, Trent. We won’t be late for dinner. I promise.”

  “But we have the car here, today. Remember, you didn’t want to ride with Aunt Mary Belle today, so we—”

  “Send Guthrie back later this afternoon for your car. Please. This is important to me.”

  Trent grinned at her—his sexy smile always turned her inside out—then he slipped his arm around her waist. “Here, let me take Mary Kate. She’ll get too heavy for you on the walk home.”

  Smiling, laughter bubbling up inside her, Kate snuggled close to Trent. Keeping Mary Kate secure on her hip, she stood on tiptoe and kissed her husband’s cheek. If only talking him into purchasing the old Kirkendall House on Madison proved half as easy as persuading him to walk home from church, all her dreams just might come true. Dreams of having a home of her own, a place that didn’t make her feel as if she were living in a museum.

  Just as Kate turned to hand Mary Kate to Trent, Aunt Mary Belle cleared her throat. “Public displays of affection aren’t in good taste,” she said quietly so only Trent and Kate could hear her.

  Ignoring his aunt’s comment, Trent turned to her and said, “Kate and I thought we’d walk home from church today. And you needn’t worry about our being late for lunch.
We won’t keep Reverend and Mrs. Faulkner waiting.”

  “If you intend to walk, then how do you plan for me to get home. I have no desire to walk.” Mary Belle laid her ring-adorned left hand over her heart and sighed dramatically.

  “Why would you have to walk?” Kate asked. “Guthrie can—”

  “I told Guthrie not to bother picking me up, that I’d ride home with y’all.” Mary Belle smiled triumphantly.

  Trent squeezed Kate around the waist. “We can’t ask Aunt Mary Belle to walk, can we? She doesn’t approve of ladies perspiring.”

  “I do not perspire,” his aunt corrected him. “Ladies glow or glisten. They never perspire.”

  “Give Aunt Mary Belle the keys to your car,” Kate suggested. “She can drive—”

  “I’m unaccustomed to Trent’s car and I do so hate to drive any vehicle, but when I’m forced to drive myself I prefer my own Lincoln.”

  “You could make an exception, just this once, couldn’t you?” Kate had no intention of losing this battle. She had lost far too many during her marriage. Maybe she was being silly to make such a big deal out of this, but damn it—oh, yes, excuse me, ladies don’t curse, either, do they?—she was sick and tired of Aunt Mary Belle running every aspect of her life.

  “My dear Kate, is it so much to ask that an old lady, wearing high heels, not be forced to walk endless blocks on a warm Sunday afternoon? Or to be made uncomfortable by driving an unfamiliar car?”

  Kate cringed. Trent chuckled. He adored his stuffy, snobby aunt and accepted everything she said and did with good humor. He’d once told Kate that he knew Aunt Mary Belle’s many faults only too well and never took her too seriously. But he loved her. She had been both mother and father to him since his parents’ untimely deaths when he was twelve.

  Trent took his aunt’s gloved hand. “Come along. We’ll all ride home together. No need to fret.” He glanced at Kate, who glared at him. “You and I will find time later today for a walk.”