The Welcoming

by Nora Roberts

  “Okay.” She squeezed Mae’s hand. Strange, but it felt more like a dream now, as if she were pushing her way through layers and layers of gauzy gray curtains. “I think we’ll have more privacy upstairs,” she said to Roman. Then she turned without looking at him and started up the stairs.

  He wanted to hold her. His fingers curled tight into his palms. He needed to lift her against him, touch her hair, her skin, and convince himself that the nightmare was over.

  Her knees were shaking. Reaction was struggling to set in, but she fought it off. When she was alone, Charity promised herself. When she was finally alone, she would let it all out.

  In her sitting room she turned to face him. She would not, could not, speak to him in the intimacy of her bedroom. “I imagine you have reports to file,” she began. Was that her voice? she wondered. It sounded so thin and cold, so foreign. Deliberately she cleared her throat. “I’ve been told I’ll have to make a statement, but I thought we should get this out of the way first.”

  “Charity.” He started toward her, only to be brought up short when her hands whipped out.

  “Don’t.” Her eyes were as cold as her voice. It wasn’t a dream, she told herself. It was as harsh and as brutal a reality as she had ever known. “Don’t touch me. Not now, not ever again.”

  His hands fell uselessly to his sides. “I’m sorry.”

  “Why? You accomplished exactly what you came to do. From what I’ve been able to gather, Roger and Bob had quite a system going. I’m sure your superiors will be delighted with you.”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  She dug his badge out of her pocket, where she had shoved it. “Yes.” She threw it at him. “Yes, it does.”

  Struggling for calm, he pushed it into his pocket. He noted dispassionately that his hands were bleeding. “I couldn’t tell you.”

  “Didn’t tell me.”

  There was a faint bruise on her cheekbone. For a moment all his guilt and impotent fury centered there. “He hit you.”

  She ran a fingertip lightly across the mark. “I don’t break easily.”

  “I want to explain.”

  “Do you?” She turned away for a moment. She wanted to keep her anger cold. “I think I get the picture.”

  “Listen, baby—”

  “No, you listen, baby.” Her composure cracking, she whirled around again. “You lied to me, you used me from the first minute to the last. It was all one huge, incredible lie.”

  “Not all.”

  “No? Let’s see, how can we separate one from the other? A convenient flat.” She saw the anger in his eyes and shoved a chair out of her path. “And George, good old lucky George. I suppose it was worth a few thousand dollars to get him out of the way and leave you an opening. And Bob—you knew all about Bob, didn’t you?”

  “We couldn’t be sure, not at first.”

  “Not at first,” she repeated. As long as she kept her brain cold, she told herself, she could think. She could think and not feel. “I wonder, Roman, were you so sure of me? Or did you think I was part of it?” When he didn’t answer, she spun around again. “You did. Oh, I see. I was under investigation all the time. And there you were, so conveniently on the scene. All you had to do was get close to me, and I made it so easy for you.” With a laugh, she pressed her hands to her face. “My God, I threw myself at you.”

  “I wasn’t supposed to get involved with you.” Fighting desperation, he paced his words carefully. “It just happened. I fell in love with you.”

  “Don’t say that to me.” She lowered her hands. Her face was pale and cool behind them. “You don’t even know what it means.”

  “I didn’t, until you.”

  “You can’t have love without trust, Roman. I trusted you. I didn’t just give you my body. I gave you everything.”

  “I told you everything I could,” he shot back. “Damn it, I couldn’t tell you the rest. The things I told you about myself, about the way I grew up, the way I felt, they were all true.”

  “Do I have your word on that? Agent DeWinter?”

  With an oath, he strode across the room and grabbed her arms. “I didn’t know you when I took the assignment. I was doing a job. When things changed, the most important part of that job became proving your innocence and keeping you safe.”

  “If you had told me I would have proven my own innocence.” She jerked out of his hold. “This is my inn, and these are my people. The only family I have left. Do you think I would risk it all for money?”

  “No. I knew that, I trusted that, after the first twenty-four hours. I had orders, Charity, and my own instincts. If I had told you who I was and what was going on, you would never have been able to keep up a front.”

  “So I’m that stupid?”

  “No. That honest.” Digging deep, he found his control again. “You’ve been through a lot. Let me take you to the hospital.”

  “I’ve been through a lot,” she repeated, and nearly laughed. “Do you know how it feels to know that for two years, two years, people I thought I knew were using me? I always thought I was such a good judge of character.” Now she did laugh. She walked to the window. “They made a fool out of me week after week. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over it. But that’s nothing.” She turned, wrapping her fingers around the windowsill. “That’s nothing compared to what I feel when I think of how I let myself believe you were in love with me.”

  “If it was a lie, why am I here now, telling you that I do?”

  “I don’t know.” Suddenly weary, she dragged her hair away from her face. “And it doesn’t seem to matter. I’m wrung dry, Roman. For a while today I was sure he was going to kill me.”

  “Oh, Charity.” He gathered her close, and when she didn’t resist he buried his face in her hair.

  “I thought he would kill me,” she repeated, her arms held rigidly at her sides. “And I didn’t want to die. In fact, nothing was quite so important to me as staying alive. When my mother fell in love and that love was betrayed, she gave up. I’ve never been much like her.” She stepped stiffly out of his hold. “Maybe I’m gullible, but I’ve neyer been weak. I intend to pick up where I left off, before all of this. I’m going to keep the inn running. No matter what it takes, I’m going to erase you and these last weeks from my life.”

  “No.” Furious, he took her face in his hands. “You won’t, because you know I love you. And you made me a promise, Charity. No matter what happened, you wouldn’t stop loving me.”

  “I made that promise to a man who doesn’t exist.” It hurt. She could feel the pain rip through her from one end to the other. “And I don’t love the man who does.” She took a small but significant step backward. “Leave me alone.”

  When he didn’t move, she walked into the bedroom and flipped the lock.

  ***

  Mae was busily sweeping up glass in the kitchen. For the first time in over twenty years the inn was closed. She figured it would open again soon enough, but for now she was content that her girl was safe upstairs in bed and the coffee-guzzling police were on their way out.

  When Roman came in, she rested her arms on her broom. Mae had rocked Charity for nearly an hour while she’d cried over him. She’d been prepared to be cold and dismissive. It only took one look to change her mind.

  “You look worn out.”

  “I . . .” Feeling lost, he glanced around the room. “I wanted to ask how she was before I left.”

  “She’s miserable.” She nodded, content with the anguish she saw in his eyes. “And stubborn. You got a few cuts.”

  Automatically he lifted a hand to rub at the nick on his temple. “Will you give her this number?” He dropped a card on the table. “She can reach me there if— She can reach me there.”

  “Sit down. Let me clean you up.”

  “No, it’s all right.”

  “I said sit down.” She went to a cupboard for a bottle of antiseptic. “She’s had a bad shock.”

  He had a sudden mental image
of Block holding the knife to her throat. “I know.”

  “She bounces back pretty quick from most things. She loves you.”

  Roman winced a little as she dabbed on the antiseptic, but not from the sting. “Did.”

  “Does,” Mae said flatly. “She just doesn’t want to right now. You been an agent for long?”

  “Too long.”

  “Are you going to make sure that slimy worm Roger Block’s put away?”

  Roman’s hands curled into fists. “Yes.”

  “Are you in love with Charity?”

  He relaxed his hands. “Yes.”

  “I believe you, so I’m going to give you some advice.” Puffing a bit, she sat down next to him. “She’s hurt, real bad. Charity’s the kind who likes to fix things herself. Give her a little time.” She picked up the card and slipped it into her apron pocket. “I’ll just hold on to this for now.”

  ***

  She was feeling stronger. And not just physically, Charity decided as she jogged along behind Ludwig. In every way. The sweaty dreams that had woken her night after night were fading. It wasn’t nearly as difficult to talk, or to smile, or to pretend that she was in control again. She had promised herself she would put her life back together, and she was doing it.

  She rarely thought of Roman. On a sigh, she relented. She would never get strong again if she began to lie to herself.

  She always thought of Roman. It was difficult not to, and it was especially difficult today.

  They were to have been married today. Charity veered into the grass as Ludwig explored. The ache came, spread and was accepted. Just after noon, with the music swelling and the sun streaming down on the garden, she would have put her hand in his. And promised.

  A fantasy, she told herself, and nudged her dog back onto the shoulder of the road. It had been fantasy then, and it was a fantasy now.

  And yet . . . With every day that passed she remembered more clearly the times they had spent together. His reluctance, and his anger. Then his tenderness and concern. She glanced down to where the bracelet shimmered on her wrist.

  She’d tried to put it back in the box, to push it into some dark, rarely opened drawer. Every day she told herself she would. Tomorrow. And every day she remembered how sweet, how awkward and how wonderful he’d been when he’d given it to her.

  If it had only been a job, why had he given her so much more than he had needed to? Not just the piece of jewelry, but everything the circle of gold had symbolized? He could have offered her friendship and respect, as Bob had, and she would have trusted him as much. He could have kept their relationship strictly physical. Her feelings would have remained the same.

  But he had said he loved her. And at the end he had all but begged her to believe it.

  She shook her head and increased her pace. She was being weak and sentimental. It was just the day . . . the beautiful spring morning that was to have been her wedding day.

  What she needed was to get back to the inn and keep busy. This day would pass, like all the others.

  At first she thought she was imagining it when she saw him standing beside the road, looking out at the sunrise over the water. Her feet faltered. Before she could think to prevent it, her knees weakened. Fighting her heart, she walked to him.

  He’d heard her coming. As he’d stood in the growing light he’d remembered wondering if he came back, if he would stand just there and wait for Charity to run to him.

  She wasn’t running now. She was walking very slowly, despite the eager dog. Could she know, he wondered, that she held his life in her hands?

  Nerves swarmed through her, making her fingers clench and unclench on the leash. She prayed as she stopped in front of him that her voice would be steadier.

  “What do you want?”

  He bent down to pat the squirming dog’s head. “We’ll get to that. How are you feeling?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’ve been having nightmares.” There were shadows under her eyes. He wouldn’t make it easy on her by ignoring them.

  She stiffened. “They’re passing. Mae talks too much.”

  “At least she talks to me.”

  “We’ve already said all there is to say.”

  He closed a hand over her arm as she started by him. “Not this time. You had your say last time, and I had a lot of it coming. Now it’s my turn.” Reaching down, he unhooked the leash. Free, Ludwig bounded toward home. “Mae’s waiting for him,” Roman explained before Charity could call the dog back.

  “I see.” She wrapped the leash around her fisted hand. “You two work all this out?”

  “She cares about you. So do I.”

  “I have things to do.”

  “Yeah. This is first.” He pulled her close and, ignoring her struggling, crushed his mouth to hers. It was like a drink after days in the desert, like a fire after a dozen long cold nights. He plundered, greedy, as though it were the first time. Or the last.

  She couldn’t fight him, or herself. Almost sobbing, she clung to him, hungry and hurting. No matter how strong she tried to be, she would never be strong enough to stand against her own heart.

  Aching, she started to draw back, but he tightened his hold. “Give me a minute,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her hair. “Every night I wake up and see him holding a knife at your throat. And there’s nothing I can do. I reach for you, and you’re not there. For a minute, one horrible minute, I’m terrified. Then I remember that you’re safe. You’re not with me, but you’re safe. It’s almost enough.”

  “Roman.” With a helpless sigh, she stroked soothing hands over his shoulders. “It doesn’t do any good to think about it.”

  “Do you think I could forget?” He pulled back, keeping his hands firm on her arms. “For the rest of my life I’ll remember every second of it. I was responsible for you.”

  “No.” The anger came quickly enough to surprise both of them. She shoved at his chest. “I’m responsible for me. I was and I am and I always will be. And I took care of myself.”

  “Yeah.” He ran his palm over her cheek. The bruise had faded, even if the memory hadn’t. “It was a hell of a way to serve coffee.”

  “Let’s forget it.” She shrugged out of his grip and walked toward the water. “I’m not particularly proud of letting myself be duped, so I’d rather not dwell on it.”

  “They were pros, Charity. You’re not the first person they’ve used.”

  She pressed her lips together. “And you?”

  “When you’re undercover you lie, and you use, and you take advantage of anything that’s offered.” Her eyes were closed when he turned her around to face him. “I came here to do a job. It had been a long time since I’d let myself think beyond anything but the next day. Look at me. Please.”

  Taking a steadying breath, she opened her eyes. “We’ve been through this already, Roman.”

  “No. I’d hurt you. I’d disappointed you. You weren’t ready to listen.” Gently he brushed a tear from her lashes. “I hope you are now, because I can’t make it much longer without you.”

  “I was too hard on you before.” It took almost everything she had, but she managed a smile. “I was hurt, and I was a lot shakier than I knew from being locked up with Roger. After I gave my statement, Inspector Conby explained everything to me, more clearly. About how the operation had been working, what my responsibilities were, what you had to do.”

  “What responsibilities?”

  “About the money. It’s put us in somewhat of a hole, but at least we only have to pay back a percentage.”

  “I see.” Roman laughed and shook his head. “He always was a prince.”

  “The merchant’s responsible for the loss.” She tilted her head. “You didn’t know about the arrangements I’ve made with him?”

  “No.”

  “But you work for him.”

  “Not anymore. I turned in my resignation when I got back to D.C.”

  “Oh, Roman, that’s ridiculous. It
’s like throwing out the baby with the bathwater.”

  He smiled appreciatively at her innate practicality. “I decided I like carpentry better. Got any openings?”

  Running the leash through her hands, she looked over the water. “I haven’t given much thought to remodeling lately.”

  “I work cheap.” He tilted her face to his. “All you have to do is marry me.”

  “Don’t.”