by Sandy James
She had so many questions about what had happened after she fled, but most of all, she was heartsick to find out if her father had received a proper burial. Tears of regret blurred her eyes. I’m sorry, Papa. I’m so sorry.
Setting her jaw, she pushed the remorse aside to think through her present situation. Gregory was in Montana, and she needed to deal with that fact.
If he still harbored feelings for her, he was in for a rather rude surprise. She loved Drake. Falling in love with her own cowboy had taught her that what she’d felt for Gregory had been more admiration and respect than love. His kisses, the handful they’d shared, had never sent her reeling, yet all Drake had to do was look at her and heat filled her body.
If only she and Gregory could have some privacy to talk—an impossibility since they were now snowed in.
The door opened, bringing with it cold wind, more snow, Gideon, and Drew. Kayla used their return as a reason to leave Gregory alone on the sofa. She grabbed the damp towels and used them to get the snow swept into a pile, then she and Brigit did their best to get the stray snow to the sink before it melted and left the floor wet.
Brigit went about getting Gideon and Drew some tea, but Drake came to help Kayla with the towels. Together they took them to Brigit’s room, where they often hung things to dry. She seemed to think that moisture in the air was healthy, but Kayla figured it was more likely that Brigit was accustomed to her room having multiple uses since she’d been a servant for so long. She and Drake laid the wet towels over the twine stretched from wall-to-wall near the hearth.
Since he hadn’t made any comment about Gregory’s arrival, she broached the subject first. “I had no idea he would come here. I truly didn’t.”
“You don’t need to explain anything to me,” Drake said.
“I feel as though I do. I could tell how…surprised you were at his arrival.”
“Damned right I was surprised. We all were. Including you.”
She nodded. “I always assumed Chantal was behind the men searching for me.”
“You really thought she wanted you dead that badly? You weren’t gonna marry her son anymore.”
After Kayla hung the last towel, she turned to face Drake. He put his hands on her shoulders and gazed down into her eyes. “I saw what she’d done to my father. She had to believe I might come back to seek justice one day. I also thought perhaps she wanted to dispose of any witness to what Otto had done.”
He gave her a quick kiss and then tugged her into his arms. His embrace was tight, and she loved how it felt to be enveloped by him. To feel cherished by him.
Everything would change now that Gregory had found her. That was what Kayla feared most. She’d found such happiness at this place, with these people.
With Drake.
God, how she loved him. Didn’t matter that he’d never given her the words, she still knew that he cared. His every action, his tender care, declared his feelings for her. He might never love her the way she wished he would, but she was bonded to him and him to her. Always would be.
She used to dream about revenge for Papa’s death, and she’d said many a prayer to beg for forgiveness for her sinful thoughts. Now, she dreamed of a life with Drake. Of him, the house he was building was for them, and perhaps, one day, a family. Fanciful though it was, she wanted it all—her own happily-ever-after.
In that moment, she decided that she would never go back to New York City. She didn’t want to be a part of that world again. No matter what Gregory wanted, she was staying in Montana.
Kayla was just about to tell Drake of her decision and to ask him to stay, to share her home, when Drew called from the other room. “Kayla! Gregory would like to speak with you!”
She hesitated. “Drake, I…I want—”
He gave her a quick kiss. “We’ll talk later. That man just came all the way from the other side of the country to find you. Best to go hear what he has to say.”
“But I need to ask you—”
Another no-nonsense kiss. “Come to me tonight, like you always do. We’ll have plenty of time to talk then.”
Kayla let out an inelegant snort. “You never seem to want to talk at night.”
His laugh always made her smile. “That’s ’cause you’re such a temptin’ little minx.” He turned her around and gave her bottom a pat. “Now go. Find out what that varmint wants.”
With a sigh, she obeyed. Drake followed closely behind.
* * *
Drake took a chair and watched the drama playing out before him between Kayla and Gregory. He imagined that she wished she had some privacy with her former fiancé, but he couldn’t make himself leave. The woman he loved was coming face-to-face with her past—a past that had frightened her enough to force her to flee all the way across the country. He wasn’t about to leave her alone with Gregory when he was somehow involved in that past.
Brigit frowned. She stood behind the sofa upon which Kayla and Gregory sat. That frown was shot at Drake and then directed at where Drew stood in front of the fire. He was sipping tea while Gideon leaned his back against the wall, arms folded over his chest.
“We should leave them be and let them talk,” she said.
Thankfully, Drew chimed in before Drake could. “My dear Brigit, it has been such a long time since I was able to see a dramatic performance on the stage. Would you deny me the pleasure of witnessing a perfectly wonderful chance at entertainment that is here, right before my eyes?”
A small smile on Kayla’s face was there and quickly gone. Drake doubted anyone else even noticed it. In the time Drew had been back home, Drake had noticed their special connection, one that saw them doing their best to make the other laugh or smile. Just like Drake, Drew clearly knew Kayla was uncomfortable and was trying to ease her distress.
Brigit, on the other hand, wasn’t amused. She rolled her eyes and drummed her fingers on the back of the sofa. “They should be alone.”
“Nonsense,” Drew said as he placed the teacup on the mantel and gave a flourish of his hand. “We are all family here. Right, Kayla?”
Her eyes grazed Brigit, Drew, and Gideon before settling on Drake. “You’re right, Drew. We are family. So speak freely, Gregory. Please tell me why you’ve come so far to find me.”
Gregory drew his lips into a grim line. “I had hoped to speak to you alone. Dirty laundry and all, my dear. Don’t you wish to speak in private, Cara?”
“I mean what I say,” Kayla replied. “These people are my family now. You can hang up all my dirty laundry, and I will not hide it from them. And I prefer Kayla now.”
He set his teacup on the table that sat beside the sofa. “As you wish… I came west to find you because I simply couldn’t believe what was being said about you. I loved you and knew you would never have done something so…so…heinous.” He wiped his hand over his face. “Tell me the truth, Cara…er…Kayla. Please.”
“I’m confused.” She glanced at Drake and then returned her gaze to Gregory. “What do you think I did?”
The tremble in her voice was unmistakable, causing Drake’s thoughts to focus. There was only one thing that Gregory could possibly accuse Kayla of doing, and that horrible conclusion came spilling out of Gregory’s mouth. “Tell me you didn’t kill your own father.”
Drake jumped to his feet, glad to see the same reaction from Drew and Gideon. “Have you lost your fuckin’ mind?” he asked, fisting his hands.
Gideon chimed in. “Kayla wouldn’t hurt a fly, let alone her pa.”
For the first time in Drake’s memory, Drew was at a loss for words. His reactions this time were pure body language as he set his hands on his hips and glared down at Gregory with narrowed eyes and a clenched jaw.
Sitting still as a statue, Kayla blinked a few times as if trying to process Gregory’s accusation. “You think that I… That I… Dear God. How could you possibly believe—?”
“But I didn’t believe,” Gregory said. “I couldn’t accept that the woman I loved, the woman
whom I wanted to marry, could do something like that.”
“Is that what everyone believes?” Kayla asked, her eyes wide. “That I killed Papa?”
Gregory frowned. “I fear that they do. Although there is no formal charge pending against you, Mother said that your running away proved that—”
Kayla let out an indignant gasp. “Whatever your mother says is nothing but…but…pure…”
“Bullshit?” Drake offered.
She nodded vigorously. “Yes, it is bullshit.” Her angry stare could’ve scorched Gregory’s skin. “Your mother is the one who killed my father, not I!”
This time, it was Gregory who rose. “I beg your pardon? Did you just accuse my mother?”
“Damn right, she did,” Drake replied. It was time the whole story was out in the open. “Your bitch of a mother had Kayla’s pa murdered.”
“You’ve all clearly lost your minds,” Gregory insisted. “My mother is the gentlest woman in the world. How could she possibly have anything to do with such a…a…monstrosity as murder?”
“I was there,” Kayla said. “I witnessed what happened.”
“You saw my mother kill your father?”
She began to wring her hands. “Well, no. I didn’t see. But—”
“Ha! I knew it,” Gregory said. “My mother could never—”
“You refuse to see your mother’s true self,” Kayla said. “She is a dictator. Pure and simple. She wouldn’t allow you to settle for someone as lowly as me for a wife. She told my father so that day. Then she left to send in Otto, and he killed my father.”
“So now it’s Otto’s fault? Have you no shame that you will cast blame on others simply to keep it from yourself?” Gregory’s tone was taunting. Then he folded his arms over his chest. “Perhaps I misjudged you, Cara. You are throwing out unfounded accusations against people I care for.”
Three stomps put Drake in front of Gregory. He fisted his hands in Gregory’s shirt and lifted him off the ground, bringing their eyes level. “How dare you! Do you know how much your people have put her through?”
Gregory’s words came out in frightened squeaks. “What are you talking about?”
“Your mother threatened Kayla’s pa, then her man murdered him. Kayla thought she would be murdered, too. Sent her running across the whole damned country like some fugitive, then started tracking her like an animal. Spent all this time lookin’ over her shoulder, expecting someone to kill her, too.”
Gregory pushed against Drake. “Turn me loose, sir.”
Drake narrowed his eyes. “What I oughta do is punch your lights out.”
“Unhand me,” Gregory said, his voice gaining some strength.
Kayla put a gentle hand on Drake’s arm. “Please let him go.”
Although he obeyed, Drake gave Gregory a rough push back.
Straightening his shirt, Gregory turned to Kayla. “I…apologize. This has been a long ordeal. Finding you, I mean. I had Pinkertons spread all over searching for you. Once you were found, I hurried here to find out the truth.”
“They scared the devil out of her,” Drake said. “Made her think your mother was wanting to hunt her down and kill her.”
“My mother didn’t kill anyone!” Gregory shouted.
Drew finally found his voice. “Maybe not by her own hand. But this Otto person was clearly acting on her orders.”
“I do not believe it,” Gregory insisted. “Any more than I believed Cara to be capable of such a crime. But the evidence shows—”
“What evidence?” Gideon asked at the same time the same words fell out of Brigit’s mouth.
“The fire,” Gregory replied.
Kayla frowned. “Fire?”
“After your father was…gone, a fire consumed your home. The police believed it was set deliberately and theorized it was to try to cover the crime.”
She let out a little cry of distress. “The house is gone?”
“I’m afraid so,” Gregory said. “And then there was the missing money. Your father was known to keep a large amount of cash in the home. After the fire, the police found an open safe, and it was empty. There was no money in the house.”
“Might’ve burned up,” Gideon commented.
“Or was taken by the person who killed him,” Brigit added. “That’s what they thought, aye?”
Gregory nodded. “The police think that Cara—”
“Kayla,” Drake insisted.
“Fine. Kayla wanted the money and that her father had refused her. So she simply killed him, took the money, and fled.” He looked to Kayla. “I couldn’t believe it, though. Did you even know about the money?”
“I did. He kept quite a bit of what he called ‘reserve’ in the safe,” Kayla confirmed. “He didn’t trust banks. But how would anyone else know that? He would never have revealed that secret.”
“My mother knew,” Gregory replied. “And she shared that information with the police.”
“How could she possibly know anything about my father?”
“Because he asked her about investing the money in our bank, in Mid-Atlantic.”
Drake threw his hands up. “See? That proves that your mother killed him.”
“Yep,” Gideon added. “Didn’t want you marryin’ our Kayla, and she wanted that man’s money.”
Gregory wagged his finger at Gideon. “My mother is quite wealthy, thank you. She would never resort to something so heinous for mere cash. Why, she probably has more in her handbag than Cara…er…Kayla’s father kept in that damnable safe.”
“Kayla ain’t got a dollar to her name,” Drake added. “Had to come out here to get a husband to keep from starving.”
Whirling to face Kayla, Gregory demanded, “You are married?”
Kayla shook her head.
“Then what exactly is he talking about?”
“I didn’t have to marry because I have money,” she replied. “I took some from the safe to ease my escape. Papa would’ve insisted. I took some gold coins and a banded stack of bills. I wasn’t even sure what I was grabbing. I was in such a hurry.”
The confused looks on both Gideon and Drew’s faces told Drake that was a fact they were not privy to. Considering they were paying for her house, they had to feel confused…and perhaps a bit betrayed at knowing she had access to money.
Raking his fingers through his hair, Drake couldn’t get his own wayward thoughts to settle. He’d believed Kayla’s tale. Every word of it. But then she confessed to having money. Perhaps she’d only picked up small bills and a handful of coins?
“Where’s the money now, Kayla?” Gideon’s voice was whisper quiet.
“My aunt helped me sew it into the lining of my carpetbag.”
“So you still have it?” Gideon asked.
She bowed her head. “I do.”
“But you told us you were flat broke.” His jaw tightened.
Kayla’s eyes rose to capture Gideon’s harsh stare. “I had planned to give you the money when the house was completed. It was to be a surprise.”
“Surprise?” Gideon snorted. “You let us believe… And you let us build… I don’t know, Kayla. I just don’t know.”
“I was afraid, Gideon,” she said. “I didn’t know who I could trust. And then I came to you and Drew, and I found people who truly cared about me. I was going to tell you. I was!”
Gideon just shook his head.
“Might I suggest,” Drew said, “that we all sit down and try to figure out exactly what happened.”
“I’ll tell you what happened,” Gideon said. “She lied to us.”
“Not about everything,” Drake insisted. His own emotions were roiling. He loved her, and he wanted to trust her. He did trust her.
Don’t I?
He thought he knew her, what motivated her, what she wanted. But then Gregory showed up, tossing around accusations, some of which made sense.
“Well, she didn’t kill her pa,” he finally said. “She didn’t lie about that.”
; Drew chimed in again. “Let’s all calm down, have a brandy, and straighten this out. We clearly have much to discuss.”
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Kayla took another sip of her tea, which had no taste at all in her dry mouth. Her head was still spinning at everything Gregory had told her. That, and at the idea he’d actually traveled across the continent to find her and ask her whether she’d killed her own father because he didn’t believe the accusations.
Did that arduous trek mean he loved her?
How could it when he could even entertain the notion that she was capable of such a sin?
Drake would never think that about her.
Would he?
She’d once read about earthquakes, and the author had described them as having the ground under a person’s feet constantly shifting and moving. Funny, but that was an accurate depiction of her world right now. Everything was happening so quickly that she couldn’t keep her balance.
She set the cup on the table instead of throwing it at Gregory’s head as she dearly wished to do. Whether he loved her or not seemed irrelevant. By coming here, he’d turned her new world—a world she loved—upside down.
Their little melodrama hadn’t ended and wasn’t likely to have the curtain rung down for some time to come. No, the play had merely moved from the parlor to the dining table, and now she stared at the lot of them drinking their brandy. While she understood the men turning to strong drink, even Brigit seemed to need one.
Everyone, except Drake.
He had opted for tea along with her, and she was pleased at his choice. She wasn’t, however, pleased with the scowl he kept tossing her way. Ever since Gregory had given her the news of how everyone in New York City believed she’d despicably killed her own father, Drake had looked as though he wasn’t sure what to think. How could he possibly believe that she would be capable of hurting anyone, let alone her beloved Papa?
Did any of these people know her—the real her—at all?