Hideaway

by Sandy James

“It’s late.”

  Another soft rap. “Please, Cara. It will only take a moment.”

  With a sigh, Kayla grabbed the afghan she’d crocheted from the foot of her bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. Gregory was almost as stubborn as Drake, and if she didn’t talk to him now, he’d probably stand by her door the whole night. That, and she really didn’t need Drew, Gideon, and Brigit listening in. They were already too privy to the tragedy that was now her life.

  She opened the door enough for them to talk. “What do you want, Gregory?”

  He glanced over his shoulder as though concerned about someone being in her bedroom. “May I come in?”

  Her first inclination was to deny him. But in hopes of this conversation ending swiftly, she sighed and opened the door a little wider. After he stepped inside, she left the door ajar so no one would think anything illicit was happening.

  Old habits die hard.

  Gregory strode to the fireplace and held his hands out toward the heat. “This place is so very cold. I feel as though I shall never be warm again.”

  “New York is cold, too.”

  “I suppose it is, but out here in this wilderness, it just seems…extreme. I keep scurrying from fireplace to fireplace like some house mouse.” He smiled at her.

  That smile had been charming, still was. Yet she felt no pull to him, not like she felt with Drake.

  She pulled the edges of the afghan closer, weary and heartsick at everything she’d lost this evening. “What do you want, Gregory?”

  Turning to face her, he cocked his head. “Why are you so hostile to me? We were engaged to be married. I was to be your husband, Cara.”

  “Kayla,” she corrected. “I’m not Cara anymore. Cara Burton is…gone.”

  “You’ll have to forgive me if I have difficulty making the change. Kayla…I would like to know why you are being so cold to me, especially after I have come all this way to find you.”

  Kayla let out another sigh. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Your arrival was just such a…shock. And then when you told me that you believe I killed Papa… How did you expect me to greet you after hearing that?”

  He put a hand on her shoulder.

  She shrugged it away. “Don’t.”

  “Don’t what? Touch you?” His brows gathered. “I thought we loved each other.”

  “We never loved each other, Gregory. We were marrying, but…love?” She shook her head. After all she’d shared with Drake, she couldn’t listen to this man refer to what they’d shared as love. “We honestly didn’t even know each other. I’d assumed we’d learn to love each other after we were husband and wife.”

  A fierce frown filled his face. “I love you, Cara. I wouldn’t have agreed to marry you if my heart hadn’t been involved.”

  Kayla let out a weary sigh and walked to the window. The drapes were only half-drawn, and she opened them a little wider so she could see outside. The beauty of this land always amazed her, and the farm looked like a wonderland. Moonlight flooded the yard, and the snow glistened and winked as though crystals were hidden on its surface.

  Her sadness made the beauty fade.

  Gregory came to stand at her side. “I’m very disappointed to hear that you don’t feel the same about me as I do about you.”

  “What does it matter anyway?”

  “Because I still want to marry you. I told you that. I have people working to clear your name. When we return to New York—”

  “I will not return to New York City,” she insisted as she turned to face him.

  He turned as well, staring down at her. “We will return to New York, because it’s home.”

  “I have nothing there.” She bowed her head, wondering if she would ever have the comfort of a true home again. She’d thought she’d found it here, with Drake and her friends.

  She’d been wrong.

  His crooked finger went under her chin, and he lifted gently until she was looking into his eyes again. “You have me. You may not love me, but I love you. I want to be there for you through this…ordeal.”

  “Gregory…”

  “Just listen to me for a moment. Please.” When she nodded, his hand dropped away. “As I told you and your friends, I would never have come all this way if I hadn’t believed you were wrongfully accused. I want to clear your name, and I want to marry you. You are smart and kind and I want no other woman for my wife. You will learn to love me. I know you will. Marry me, Cara. Marry me and come back home.”

  She didn’t even try to correct him, because it was quite clear that he was never going to call her anything but Cara. “Not only would your mother never approve,” she couldn’t help but point out, “but I have no desire to be anywhere near that woman.” Not that Kayla was considering his offer, but he seemed to be entirely ignoring the fact that his mother had been the catalyst of her father’s murder.

  His offer seemed utterly ridiculous.

  Or did it?

  Right now, people believed her to be a murderess. If she never faced those people and proclaimed her innocence, they would always think she was guilty. Lord knew that she had no means to hire people to help prove her innocence. Gregory did, and he’d already put lawyers and detectives to the task.

  “I can’t marry you,” she blurted out.

  “Why not?”

  Why not, indeed? She doubted he wanted to hear the myriad reasons. She started with, “Your mother—”

  “Stop,” Gregory snapped. “My mother has nothing to do with us. We will not have to see her often, and I’m sure time will help mend any rift between you.”

  “Rift? She had that buffoon of hers kill my father! I will never be able to forgive her for that, and simply being near her would be agony.” When Gregory started to protest, Kayla shook her head. “Enough. Please. I need to get some rest.”

  As he followed her to the door, he asked, “Will you at least think about my offer?”

  Kayla nodded, knowing full well that she would be declining it again and again before Gregory would finally accept her answer. When he leaned in as though to kiss her, she turned her head so he was only able to give her a peck on the cheek. “Good night, Gregory.”

  “Good night, my love.”

  Rude though it was, she rolled her eyes after he turned and headed back toward the sitting room. No doubt a night on the sofa would be a rude awakening for a man so accustomed to luxury.

  After she closed the door, she strode to the window to shut the curtains. Hands on the material, she stopped when her gaze settled on the barn. Was Drake still awake? Was he thinking about her? Or had he dismissed her from his mind the same way that he’d forgot about other women he’d taken to his bed?

  That thought felt like a knife to the heart, and her stomach began to churn. How could she still love someone so much when he had no faith in her?

  Angry, she jerked the curtains shut. To hell with him then! She was strong. She would survive this the same way she’d survived losing her father.

  Alone.

  * * *

  How am I going to fix this?

  Drake resumed his pacing, unable to even consider trying to get some sleep. He’d made a mistake, a horrible mistake, and he had no clue how to repair the damage.

  How could he ever have believed that Kayla was capable of hurting anyone? What a fool he’d been. He’d seen into the woman’s very soul, and what he’d seen there had been pure and loving and trusting. Yet when she’d asked for his trust, Drake had hesitated.

  Why? Because a woman in his past had betrayed his trust.

  What did it truly matter that Kayla had some money with her? The poor woman had just witnessed her father’s murder and had been running in fear for her life. She fumbled around, grabbing whatever she thought she needed. Of course, she’d taken some money. And why would she bother telling anyone that she had it? She had come here, to a town full of strangers, to marry a man she didn’t know. Instead, she’d become a housekeeper to two men she’d just met. Why should she bra
g that she had some gold and a stack of bills?

  Kayla said she trusted Drew and Gideon now, and she’d claimed she was going to surprise them with a payment for the home they were having built for her. There was no reason not to believe her—other than Drake’s own stubborn stupidity in thinking she was like the other women he’d known.

  Kayla was unique, and he loved her. Deeply.

  His thoughts, like his unending pacing, always brought him back to the same place.

  How am I going to fix this?

  Constantly measuring the length of the loft with his feet wasn’t going to mend this situation. Drake stamped his foot hard. “Damnation.” It was time for action.

  He snatched up his coat and managed to get it on before he climbed down the ladder. A miracle that, considering he was moving as fast as he could possibly move. It wasn’t until he had thrown the barn door open and stepped outside that he realized he hadn’t buttoned up against the cold or grabbed his hat, gloves, and scarf.

  To hell with it. If he froze, he froze. What did it matter if Kayla wasn’t in his life anymore?

  Figuring the best thing to do to save them both some embarrassment was to knock softly on her window and hope she’d let him inside. He could crawl through and then they would be alone to talk all this nonsense out and figure out where they would go from here.

  Drake skidded to a stop when he caught sight of the figures in the window. Nothing but silhouettes backlit by the hearth, a man and woman stood facing each other. His hand went to her shoulder as they spoke, and Drake wished he were a fly on the wall so he could hear what they were saying. He realized it was Kayla and Gregory. In her room. Alone.

  What were they talking about? And why would Gregory possibly need to speak to her in her bedroom at this hour? Drake had to remind himself he’d been hoping to do the same thing, but he was her lover. Gregory might’ve been her fiancé, but he had never laid claim to her body—the thought of him even touching her make Drake’s blood boil,

  The cold was numbing him in too many places to count, so he waited only a moment more, long enough to see the silhouettes step away from the window. He turned and marched back to the barn, shivering all the way.

  Drake managed to get back up to his loft despite his nearly frozen fingers and feet. The first thing he did was pile some more wood in the stove and stoke the fire. Then he dragged a blanket closer and sat on it, staring into the flames since he’d left the stove door open. They spiraled and turned as the wood popped and crackled. Slowly, warmth returned to him, making his hands and feet sting.

  He’d been stupid to stand outside, barely covered, in the cold. The moon had been out, making the night eerily beautiful as it shone on the snow. But the beauty had been lost in wake of the anger over Kayla being alone with Gregory. Drake’s jealousy was running hot, and he tried to tamp it down.

  He was failing.

  Had Gregory been discussing marriage with her again? Had she been willing to entertain his proposal? Not only did that anger Drake because he couldn’t swallow the notion of Kayla ever being with another man, it also meant that she’d be leaving Montana, heading back to New York City to be with her husband. That meant danger.

  Chantal Carrington had instigated the murder of Kayla’s father—had made sure her man Otto had killed him simply to keep Kayla from marrying her son. How would she react when Gregory dragged Kayla back east with him? The moment Chantal realized that Gregory still intended to marry Kayla, Kayla’s days would be numbered. Surely, there’d be some “accident” when she went riding. Or a runaway carriage would hit her. Or…

  Drake had to rein in his overactive imagination. Another impossible task. The more he thought about the threats Kayla faced if she agreed to go with Gregory, the more Drake realized one very important thing.

  He could never allow her to go. Not if he had any say in the matter. He’d nag, he’d beg, he’d demand—whatever he had to do to keep her safe. Drew and Gideon were sure to lend their voices to the argument, and their sway might help.

  Besides, she said she loved me.

  She won’t marry him. She won’t.

  She’d been extremely upset that people believed her capable of killing her own father. Perhaps she wanted to head back to clear her name. Drake understood that. Oh yes, he did. Hell, he’d chased Sara all the way to Montana to get back the money she stole, return it to the cattle company, and scrub his own name clean.

  His trip to Montana hadn’t put him in danger the same way Kayla would be in danger. There’d been no Chantal and Otto waiting to kill him.

  But what if after Drake did his best to try to convince Kayla that she shouldn’t go, that she belonged here with him, she was going to head east anyway?

  Well, if she was still determined to go to New York City, there was no other choice.

  If Kayla decided to go, Drake would go with her. He might not have Gregory’s money, but he would do everything in his power to not only protect her, but to try and help her clear her name.

  Maybe then, she’d think he was worthy of her.

  Chapter Thirty

  Kayla had put up with about as much of Gregory’s fuss and bother as she could handle. The man had followed her around like a puppy for four straight days. When she was cooking, he was looking over her shoulder. If she went out to the barn, he followed. Every time she turned around, she bumped into him.

  It wasn’t as though he had anything better to do since he seemed to think whatever she was doing was “women’s work” and never once offered to help. Heaven forbid that he get his clean, soft hands into dishwater, and no one should expect him to do something as mundane as laundry.

  Whenever she suggested Gregory might want to help Gideon with the animals or Drake with the construction of her home, he acted as though she’d asked him to commit a mortal sin. Manual labor was something the man simply wasn’t accustomed to.

  This morning, his persistence at tailing her was making her stomach knot, and working on scrambling the eggs for breakfast wasn’t help her queasiness. For some reason, the look of the runny whites made the bile rise in her throat, and added to Gregory’s cologne, the combination almost made her gag. When he stood by her side, scrutinizing the lard melting in the skillet as though it were the most fascinating thing he’d ever seen, she had to resist the urge to stomp on his foot to get him to move.

  “Perhaps you’d like to find a nice book?” she suggested.

  Gregory snorted. “Your…library leaves much to be desired.”

  Had he always been so pretentious?

  Probably, although she most likely hadn’t noticed because she’d been spending her time amongst people of his ilk, trying to help her father establish himself in society. Gregory wasn’t a bad man; he was just a rich one.

  The wealthy like him had no idea what life was like for other people. They had everything done for them, so they never learned how much effort went into making a life. What did he know about keeping a typical family fed and clothed? Household tasks were unknown to him, and he didn’t seem to have any interest in learning them, other than keeping a close eye on everything she was doing. And that wasn’t to acquire new skills. He trailed her around to keep trying to convince her that she needed to go back to New York City—something she had absolutely no intention of doing.

  “If our books aren’t sufficient for your needs, I’m quite sure your library back in New York is anxiously awaiting your return,” Kayla said, not even trying to disguise her irritation. The heat of the kitchen was beginning to wear on her already frayed nerves. She wiped some sweat from her brow with the back of her sleeve.

  Gregory didn’t seem to notice her distress. “As I told you,” he said, “I will not be returning to my home until you are traveling at my side.” The same thing he’d said—ad nauseum—since that first night he’d arrived, and his constant following her seemed to reveal his fear that she would run again if given the opportunity.

  Kayla wasn’t running. Never again. “How many times
do I have to tell you that I’m staying here?”

  He shook his head. “You’ll change your mind. I know you will.”

  When hell freezes over.

  Thankfully, Drew interrupted the fruitless argument when he came in from his trip to the barn and hung his coat on a peg. “Good morning, Kayla.” He didn’t even politely nod at Gregory, showing his irritation with the man by simply ignoring him as much as possible.

  Kayla wished she could follow suit. Alas, she seemed stuck with Gregory for a while.

  She glanced over her shoulder as she continued to turn the eggs cooking in the hot skillet. “Good morning to you as well, Drew. Is the weather clearing up?”

  “‘I’ll say she looks as clear as morning roses newly washed with dew,’” he replied, with a lopsided smile.

  “The Taming of the Shrew, and I’m glad we aren’t facing more snow,” she said, returning the smile. “Are Drake and Gideon about ready to eat?”

  “I believe Drake’s comment was that he was hungry enough to eat the south end of a northbound steer.”

  As she chuckled, Gregory’s eyes widened. “How…uncouth,” he drawled.

  “Oh, Gregory.” Kayla shook his head. “You are truly not meant for Montana.”

  “Does that mean we can leave soon?” he asked, his voice rising in what she assumed was feigned hope.

  She just shook her head again and began to scoop the eggs onto the platter.

  “Is Brigit supposed to return today?” Drew asked as he strode closer to sniff at the eggs. “Smells heavenly, Kayla.”

  To her, it smelled like a breakfast she was considering skipping. She wasn’t sure her stomach could keep the eggs down, so she decided all she would eat was a piece or two of the toasted bread. “I’m not sure if she’ll be back today or tomorrow. Depends on now Mrs. Gaines is doing with the new baby.”

  Drew nodded. “Thankfully, you’re here to cook for us while she is away.”

  Gregory turned his attention to Drew. “I have been meaning to ask you, sir, whether it might be possible to afford me the use of a bedchamber. While I do not wish to question your hospitality, especially since I came to your home uninvited, I must say that your sofa leaves much to be desired in the way of comfort.”