And Able

by Lucy Monroe

  “What?” His mother stared at Claire as if she were an apparition.

  “I never said that,” Brett denied.

  “You yourself told me you hadn’t convinced her. What else could you have meant but a plea for help?” Eleanor sat down on one end of a matching sofa opposite the one her mother and children were sitting on.

  “My son asked you to marry him?”

  Claire could only nod. Reminding them all, including the man she was now clinging to like a lifeline, that she had said no did not seem politic.

  “Well, glory be, my son got some of his father’s wits after all. Those are the wits that he had before so many years in a courtroom drained most of them away,” she said with a haughty look at her husband.

  Incredibly, he didn’t appear offended at all, but grinned and slapped his son on the back. “This is wonderful news, son.” He turned his grin to Claire. “What do your parents think of Brett?”

  “Her parents are both dead,” Brett quietly stated.

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” His mother’s dark eyes swam with sympathy. “I will not be offended that I am only meeting you for the first time, then. When he told me that he’d known you for over a year, I naturally thought that Brett had met your family already and kept you a secret from us. I couldn’t understand why, except that he has this silly little idea that we’re too prying. It shouldn’t have bothered me, I know…but I’m only human and I’ve been waiting so long for this son of mine to settle down.”

  “We’ve only been friends, Mrs. Adams. Really.”

  “Until recently,” Brett added. “Though I think we both knew for quite a while that we wanted more.”

  “Do call me Felicia and you may call Brett’s father Loren. Why, you’re practically family.”

  “Please…I…Brett…I mean…Please don’t get your heart set on marriage. I don’t think it would work,” she said all in a rush.

  “Why?” his sister baldly asked.

  Claire swallowed, trying to find the right words. “Our backgrounds are too different, for one thing.”

  “There aren’t that many women who are ex-mercenaries like his friend Josie. Surely you wouldn’t limit him to waiting for one to come along.”

  Brett’s hold on her tightened and tension emanated off of him. Despite the fact he said he wanted the marriage, he wasn’t any more comfortable with this conversation than she was. Maybe he would remember that, and the next time he was tempted to call in reinforcements, would keep his big mouth zipped.

  “I didn’t mean that.”

  “Then what did you mean?” Felicia asked gently, her dark gaze probing.

  Claire swept her arm out to indicate their surroundings. “I mean this. Your lifestyle, the way you raised Brett…it’s like a fantasy. He owns his own jet, for heaven’s sake, and I can’t even afford a used car at the moment.”

  “This is about money?” Loren asked, his expression puzzled.

  “No. Yes. Not entirely.”

  Brett’s father laughed, a warm, rich sound. “You’re as confused as Brett’s mother was while I was courting her. That’s a good sign, son.”

  “I hope so.” Brett pulled Claire onto the sofa his sister had sat down on.

  His father lifted Derek and put him in his lap, taking the seat beside Felicia. “We’re not royalty, Claire…or the Kennedy clan.” He chuckled at his own joke. “My ancestors helped found this town and built this house for themselves and the generations that came after them, but we’re no different from your own parents.”

  Claire just shook her head. He had no idea how wrong he was, but no way was she going to tell him.

  Instead, she said the one thing that she could say with total honesty. “I used to think I was a nonviolent person, but there are times I could happily boil your son in oil. I really think whether or not we marry is something that has to be settled between the two of us.”

  Thankfully, the conversation moved on to other subjects after that, and Claire found herself really liking his family.

  When Felicia declared that Claire needed time to unpack and refresh herself before dinner, Eleanor insisted on showing Claire to her room. For some reason that made Brett nervous, or so the somewhat strained smile he gave her as she left with the other woman implied.

  Eleanor led Claire up the large, winding staircase. “Brett said that you were Josie’s roommate.”

  “Yes.”

  “So, that’s how you met?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “When did you start dating?”

  “Um…” Their first date had been their trip to the beach…if you could call it a date.

  She wasn’t sure admitting that at this point would be the most impressive piece of information she could impart. Brett’s sister would think he’d lost his mind, proposing so soon. Claire wasn’t sure she didn’t hold that opinion herself.

  “We admitted we were attracted to each other at Josette and Nitro’s wedding,” she said after some furious thought.

  “Weddings have that effect on people.”

  “I suppose.”

  “So, why haven’t you said yes yet?”

  Claire tripped on the top step and grabbed for the balustrade. “I’d rather not talk about that.”

  “Well, that’s one thing you and Brett have in common.”

  “What?”

  “Neither of you likes to answer questions about your feelings. We’ve still never gotten a complete answer out of him about why he chose to be a soldier instead of going to medical school like Mama and Daddy expected.”

  They’d thought Brett ought to be a doctor? For astute people, they had been singularly blind about their second son’s calling in life. “I’d think that was obvious.”

  Eleanor stopped in front of a closed door and looked keenly at Claire. “In what way?”

  “He’s a warrior at heart. You only have to know him a few hours to see it.” And she couldn’t imagine he’d changed all that much since he was a young man, filled with idealistic dreams of serving his country. “He even flies a kite like a commanding officer with a new recruit.”

  “You went kite-flying?” Eleanor asked, sounding shocked.

  “Yes.”

  “But Brett doesn’t do stuff like that. Sure, he plays with the children when he’s here, but before they came along he didn’t play at all. People mistake all that Adams charm for a laid-back attitude, but my brother does not have a laid-back bone in his body. He spends very little time relaxing. Even when he was younger, he was always practicing his martial arts, or horseback riding, or skeet shooting, and he did everything with an eye to being the best there was. None of that was play to him.”

  Claire thought of their walk in the park, their time on the beach, the fun they had in the pool and then the hot tub the night before. “He relaxes with me.”

  “You must be a very special woman.”

  Claire shook her head. “Oh, no. I’m pretty average. I just finished getting my first college degree, and I work in an assisted-living care facility. Maybe Brett relaxes more than you think he does with his other friends, too.”

  “You’re more than friends if he wants to marry you.”

  Claire could feel the heat crawling up her cheeks because she knew exactly what the other woman was alluding to. “Yes.”

  Eleanor smiled kindly and then opened the door to their left. “Here you are. Brett’s in the room next to you and you share a connecting bathroom. Jenny’s on the other side, but don’t worry about sounds carrying. The house is old with very solid walls.”

  “Um…I…”

  “Brett watches you like a hungry mountain cat. He’ll be sneaking along the balcony or through the connecting bathroom, come nightfall, or I’m not the astute observer of human nature the constituents that voted me in as a judge think I am.”

  Claire just shook her head. Southerners were a lot more forthright than she’d ever believed, and she said so.

  Eleanor laughed. “Only within the family.”

 
; “But I’m not…”

  “You will be. He may not have convinced you he’s a solid bet yet, but he will. Brett’s nothing if not tenacious, and he’s had to fight too hard his whole life to be a person different from the one the rest of us expected him to be. That kind of stubbornness has become second nature to him now.”

  “I’m no slouch in the stubborn department myself.”

  “Of course not. Brett wouldn’t be happy married to a wilting violet.”

  “I don’t think he would be happy married to me, either.”

  “He disagrees, and I have a feeling you don’t give yourself enough credit.”

  Claire shook her head. “You make quick judgments.”

  “It comes with the job. I drive my family crazy sometimes, but they put up with me.”

  “Where is your husband?”

  “In Raleigh on business. He’ll be down in time for the festivities tomorrow, though.”

  “Oh. I look forward to meeting him.”

  “He’s dying to meet you, too. He’s always said that if Brett ever married it would be to a woman very different from his family, and he was right. I don’t mind telling you, there are a few Georgia peaches who are going to be crying in their champagne at the party tomorrow.”

  “I—”

  Eleanor waved her hand, as if dismissing any regrets Claire might want to express. “Brett wouldn’t be happy married to a local girl. He wanted to travel the world and he has. He likes living in Montana now, though goodness knows why. It’s not the most populated state in the union and the winters are so cold.”

  “It’s beautiful and I think he likes isolation—besides, he said you all liked to ski.”

  “Yes, but a few weeks every winter in the snow is a far cry from spending months on end driving through foot-high drifts.”

  “I don’t think he spends that much time at home.”

  “No, I don’t suppose he does.” Eleanor indicated Claire’s cases, which had been delivered to the room. “What are you wearing to the party tomorrow?”

  “How formal is it?” If it was very formal, she could wear the dress she’d worn in Josette’s wedding. It didn’t look in the least bridal. If it was more casual, she’d wear the outfit Brett bought her at the coast.

  “Mama likes to dress up.”

  Claire crossed to the suitcase and pulled her single formal dress out. “Will this do?”

  Eleanor nodded, definite approval in her eyes. “Yes, that will be perfect. Please don’t think I’m being nosy, but I know how important things like this are to a woman.”

  Claire let out a small breath of relief while she tried to contain her astonishment at the last bit of Eleanor’s speech. Brett’s sister thought nothing of asking her why she wouldn’t marry him, but apologized for asking about her clothes.

  Amazing, if totally incomprehensible.

  “I’ll leave you to freshen up before dinner.”

  “Thank you.”

  Claire was finishing hanging her clothes in the old-fashioned wardrobe when Brett came into the room…via the balcony door.

  He walked right over and pulled her into his arms for a scorching kiss. His lips devoured hers with a desperation she didn’t understand, but gladly gave in to.

  Long moments later, he broke off the kiss. “Man, I needed that.”

  “Missed me?” she asked, tongue in cheek.

  “Yes,” he said with real feeling.

  She laughed. “Right. We’ve only been apart about forty-five minutes.”

  “It was the longest three-quarters of an hour of my life.”

  “Pull the other one.” He had been in some tense situations where time would have crawled by.

  “I’m serious.” He looked down at her with an intent expression. “I kept picturing what my sister was saying to you and I got nervous as hell.”

  “You didn’t need to.” Claire wrapped her arms around his neck and felt a smile curving at her lips. “She just asked why I refused to marry you, informed me you wouldn’t be able to hold back from coming to my room after dark, but that I wasn’t to worry because even though Jenny is on the other side of me, the walls are thick and she wanted to know what I planned to wear to your mother’s birthday party tomorrow.”

  He groaned, looking truly pained. “That’s what I was afraid of. On the bright side, she and Mama must have decided you would make a good addition to the family or she never would have been so open with you.”

  “More like they both see you as unbending as a piece of granite and figure you’ll wear down my resistance to marriage, so they might as well accept what cannot be changed.”

  “And are you going to accept what cannot be changed?”

  “What do you think?”

  “That you’re not resigned.” He sighed. “But don’t kid yourself about Mama and Eleanor. If they didn’t like you, they wouldn’t resign themselves to anything.”

  “They spent one afternoon talking to me. How can they have made up their minds so quickly?”

  “Sometimes that’s all it takes. And for all Mama likes to pretend I never mentioned you, I did. I told them plenty when I called to inform them you would be with me at the party, too.”

  “You talked about me before?”

  “You were my friend, Claire. Yes, I talked about you.”

  “I can’t imagine what you found to say.”

  “You rival me for computer acumen—what do you think I talked about?”

  “Oh.” For some stupid reason, she was disappointed he hadn’t mentioned her more as a woman…but what would he have said? Mama, I’ve got this friend with bad hair and no dress sense and she likes to spend her off days visiting the elderly. Not likely.

  “I also told them you were damn sexy and it always surprised me you didn’t date.”

  “I was too busy.”

  “You were never interested in another guy,” he said smugly.

  “So what if I wasn’t? That doesn’t mean I can’t live my life without you.”

  “Are you sure about that?”

  An honest answer would get her in deeper, so she kept her mouth stubbornly shut.

  He wasn’t bothered. He just grinned, looking much too smug for her comfort. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Don’t get cocky. It’s not becoming. And your family would die of apoplexy if they found out you wanted to marry the daughter of a man who committed suicide rather than face his own failures and a woman who drank herself to death for pretty much the same reason.”

  “They already know it and they’re just fine.”

  Chapter 20

  C laire’s heart stopped beating. “You told them about my parents?”

  “No. And I never will if you don’t want me to, but they know I want to marry you and you are that woman. They’ve met you and they like you and that’s all that matters. Not who your parents were.”

  It wasn’t that simple. She knew that, even if Brett didn’t.

  “Your sister is a public official. The press digs up all sorts of unsavory stuff when election time rolls around. What if they make my background public and embarrass her?”

  “She’s not a U.S. Senator, for crying out loud. We don’t get those kinds of mudslinging campaigns and media exposés around here. Even if we did, she’d just go on record as saying she thinks it’s amazing what you’ve made of your life, considering what you had to overcome to do it. Because it’s true, Claire. You’re an incredible woman. You beat the odds and I admire you a lot.”

  Her eyes burned with inexplicable moisture. “Thank you.”

  He kissed her. Swiftly and hard. “Now, tell me what you think of my family.”

  “I like them, but I understand why you live in Montana.”

  He nodded. “They’re nosy and I like my privacy.”

  “Exactly.” She broke away from him, needing some space.

  His comments had really touched her, but she wasn’t sure if he was right. She had no problem believing her background was not a problem for
him, but she wasn’t sure—despite what he’d said—that his sister would be so sanguine.

  She stopped in front of a painting of a small child playing in the dirt, her frilly white dress smudged and her face suffused with innocent joy as she made a mud pie in what appeared to be a real pie tin.

  There was something familiar about the little girl.

  “That looks like Jenny.”

  “It is.”

  “The artist is very talented.”

  “Thank you.”

  She looked at the signature. H.B. Adams. “Is he a relative?”

  “You could say that. H.B. Adams is me.”

  She spun to face him. “What?”

  “I took up painting years ago as a way to escape when my brain was filled with too many ugly images associated with war.”

  “What does the H stand for?”

  “Hamilton.”

  “Your first name is Hamilton?”

  “Hey, it’s not as bad as my brother. He got stuck with Loren Quincy Adams, the Fourth.”

  “Does he go by Loren or Quincy?”

  “They tried to stick him with Quincy and then Junior, but he fought for Loren. They compromised on L.Q., but if any man could go by Quincy and make it work, it would be my brother. He’s the perfect judge’s son.”

  “And you don’t think you are?”

  “They wanted me to be a doctor. Did my sister tell you that?”

  “Yes.”

  Despite the fact he’d asked the question, his eyes widened. “Wow, she really wasn’t pulling any stops. Anyway, I disappointed them all when I chose to join the army right out of high school. I wouldn’t even finish college first and enter as an officer. My father and I fought for weeks before I simply walked out of the house one day and came home enlisted.”

  “But you did what you needed to do. You succeeded at it, too.”

  “You consider dropping out of the Rangers and becoming a mercenary a success?”

  “The way you did it, yes. You kept your ideals, your integrity, and your honor. You’re the kind of man I’m glad is defending my country, Brett.”

  “So, my past doesn’t bother you?”

  She felt her own eyes flair. “Of course not. Why should it?”

  “You’re as close to a pacifist as it gets, sugar. I thought maybe the violence in my past might disgust you.”