“Too long,” she said, her voice watery.
“Too long.”
* * *
He stood in the trees, staring up at the house.
The falling twilight painted it in shades of gold and orange, reflected off the windows. The water of the pool danced, cerulean in the darkening light.
It was a place of legend, a place of beauty.
And it should be his.
Hand fisted, he fought the rage that threatened to overwhelm him.
The fucking McKays.
He had tried to play nice, but he was rather done with that now.
The door opened, a final ray of sunlight falling on the gleaming red hair of the eldest McKay as she walked onto the deck and stood there, staring out over the expanse of green that rolled around her.
Studying her domain.
Her shoulders slumped and he watched as she lifted her hands to her face and began to cry.
Poor little princess, he thought, disgusted.
Life is hard on you now, is it?
A brother in the hospital. How stressful that must be.
He could teach her a thing or two about stress.
Poor, poor little Moira.
Something moved behind him and he stiffened, looked up. He wasn’t alone in these woods. Slowly, he shifted into the trees and lost himself into the shadows.
It wouldn’t do to be seen skulking about, he supposed. He wouldn’t hide much longer though.
* * *
Moira looked up, startled, as Charles settled into the chair across from her.
He held out a white handkerchief.
“What are you doing here?”
He gave her a sad smile.
“Waiting for you, love.” He nodded toward the path. “I was out walking. Nobody answered the door when I first arrived, so I parked near the garage and just wandered around. Ella Sue at the hospital?”
“No.” Moira shrugged. Dabbing at her eyes, she wiped the tears away. “She was. We rode into together. She dropped me off. Guess that’s why I didn’t see your car. Neve’s with Ian.”
He nodded. “I…” Charles stopped and slumped in his chair, staring up at the star-studded sky. “I’ve well and truly messed things up with you, Moira. Not just you, but with your family. You almost died. Your sister almost died. And now Brannon and his lady. And I haven’t been there for you.”
“We’re not together anymore, Charles.” She swallowed the knot in her throat. She didn’t have a together. How many times had she wanted to reach out, to call somebody? To have a man’s arms around her in the night? But it wasn’t Charles’ arms she wanted. It wasn’t him she longed to have holding her. She managed a smile. “You don’t have to be there for me.”
“But I want to be.”
He stared at her, his blue eyes penetrating, deep. Searching.
When he stood and came to sit beside her, she looked away. “Moira, I miss you.”
She said nothing.
* * *
Shoulder braced against a tree, Gideon remained where he was.
He’d been prowling around, trying to work up the nerve to go to the house. To Moira.
Actually, that was wrong.
What he was trying to do was go to her and tell her good-bye.
That he was done.
That he couldn’t love her anymore only to have her push him away, hold him at arm’s length.
He’d heard trees rustling, thought maybe somebody else had been out there. He’d debated on taking a look, finding out. Almost did just that, but then he saw Moira. And when she started to cry, he had been frozen.
If he went to her now, he’d lose his resolve, all over again.
The love he had for her was like a cancer, tearing away at him and destroying him. If she’d just let herself love him back, it would be the cure—the cure they both needed.
He turned to go.
Even managed to take a step.
But because he was always weakest when it came to her, he turned back.
That was when he saw Charles moving toward her.
Charles.
Lip curled, Gideon watched him. Wondered for a split second if it had been Charles out lurking in the trees, but then he brushed the possibility off. The man was like a toddler in the trees, thrashing about and crashing into everything.
Besides, he didn’t have any reason to skulk in the dark to moon on Moira. He’d always done that right in the open.
“Unlike me,” Gideon muttered, disgusted.
He turned on his heel and strode off.
As he did, he punched in a number.
He had reports to write. He had a murder to solve.
But damn it, he was going to have a drink.
And tonight, he was going to have a drink with a beautiful woman.
“Hello?”
“May I speak to Maris Cordell?”
“Speaking.” There was a faint pause and then she said softly, “Would this be the chief of police by any chance?”
“It would.”
“Hmmm … you know, I have my cell phone down for official communications,” she said lightly. “So why are you calling me at home?”
“Because I’m calling to see if you’d like to have a drink with me sometime.”
Maris laughed. It was a pretty laugh, light and free and easy. Not the low and sexy purr of Moira, but still pretty. Don’t, he told himself. Don’t hold her up to Moira. Let her be Maris.
“I’d love to have a drink with you, chief. When were you thinking?”
“Tonight. You free?”
* * *
“I can carry you in.” Ian’s face was straight, eyes serious. “I can, really. You sure you should walk?”
Hannah glared at him.
Ian rubbed the flat of his hand along his scalp and looked over at Neve. “I’m just tryin’ to help. Babies make me nervous.”
“Hannah’s fine,” Neve said, patting his arm. “I’m more worried about Brannon.”
Brannon was pale, sweat beading on his brow and upper lip. He looked at the sidewalk that stretched out like a river between him and the front door then he scowled at Gideon. “You could have parked closer.”
“Unless you wanted me to park on your porch, I wasn’t getting closer. Quit your bitching and move.” Gideon gave him a lazy, relaxed smile.
That lazy, relaxed smile made Brannon want to punch him.
Grimacing, he took a few steps toward the house and stopped.
Hannah was already up the stairs and waiting for him. “Need a wheelchair?” She smiled at him, eyes dancing with laughter.
“Smart ass. Keep it up and I won’t let you have your present.”
She rolled her eyes. “You won’t do that. You like giving me presents. I think you’re addicted.”
“Damn straight.” He moved a few more feet, mostly because the railing that led up the rest of the way was a few feet away and it looked like heaven. Felt like it too, having something take his weight.
“Maybe I should have volunteered to carry you,” Ian said, laughter lurking in his voice as he jogged up the steps, arms laden with bags.
Most of them were shopping bags, full of the new clothes Brannon had asked Neve and Moira to get for Hannah.
He was just being helpful, the way he saw it. Gideon had said most of her wardrobe had been trashed.
Grim purpose gripped him as he eyed the back of Hannah’s head. Trashed and ruined, along with a message.
The story about how she’d regained her memory, about how she’d seen a murder but had no idea who she’d seen kill Shayla Hardee, that was the big story hitting the regional media today. They’d held it until she could be discharged.
Hopefully, she’d be safe now.
But Brannon was going to make damn sure they found whoever had tried to hurt her in that barn.
Who’d tried to gut him like a fish.
“Come on, Bran,” Neve said. “A few more steps.”
“I can walk, you morons,” he mutte
red. He could also puke, and he thought he might. Why the hell was he so weak?
It took a ridiculous ten minutes to shuffle into the living room and he would have fallen into the chair, but Gideon and Ian caught his arms, helped him ease his weight down. “No flopping around for a while, Bran,” Gideon said, rapping him on the head with his knuckles.
Brannon flipped him off.
Casually, Gideon looked around. “Where’s Moira?”
“Getting stuff for dinner tonight with Ella Sue.” Neve hovered over Hannah, who was already glowering. “You sure you’re comfortable on the couch?”
“Give me a pillow,” Hannah said after a moment of quiet.
Neve did. Then she dodged as Hannah threw it at her.
“I’m fine,” she said. Then she scowled. “Although you’re awful far away, Brannon.”
He grunted. “Get me an hour to recover, then I’ll move.”
He breathed in. Then out. Gave himself three minutes while they all chatted and then heaved himself up. He really was too far away.
Hannah shook her head as he sank down next to her on the couch. She’d taken the end with the reclining chair and had her feet up. He stretched out and put his head in her lap. That felt just about perfect. Especially once she started stroking his hair. Breathing out a sight of satisfaction, he smiled up at her. “Now I’m fine.”
“So glad to know.”
Gideon’s voice caught his attention and he slanted his gaze toward the man standing near the door.
“How was your date?” he asked.
It must have been the pain pills. Brannon wouldn’t have asked that in a thousand years if he hadn’t been strung out on pain and still loopy from the meds they’d given him before he left. Granted, when the nurse had mentioned it, he’d been damn well aggravated, but he hadn’t meant to say anything.
The room went quiet.
Slowly, Gideon shifted his gaze to him.
Neve blinked. “What date?”
Ian was staring intently at the bags he’d lined up along the wall. “Neve, why don’t you help with these, darlin’? Show me where they go?”
“What date?” Neve asked, mystified. “You weren’t out with Moira. She was … oh.”
She turned to the bags, grabbed some blindly. “Come on, Ian. I’ll show you where these two lovebirds are staying.”
When she went to shove past Gideon, he caught her arm. “Neve, sweetheart…”
“Don’t.” Her voice was hoarse. She shook her head. “I get it, okay? You deserve to be happy and I know that and all she does is push people away. But…” She sniffled. “Moira should be happy, too, shouldn’t she?”
“If she’d let me make her happy, Trouble, I’d do it in a heartbeat.” Gideon sighed and looked away. “But she doesn’t want to be happy. Not with me anyway.”
* * *
Moira stood in the hall.
Eyes closed, tears burning, she regulated her breathing and didn’t let herself move.
They’d made it back quicker than they’d planned but Ella Sue had rushed back out because she’d forgotten something.
Something important, she’d claimed.
So she’d left Moira there to put up the groceries.
If Moira had just moved her ass when she heard Gideon’s voice, she could have avoided this.
But no …
Slowly, she moved back into the kitchen, swiped at the tears on her face.
So he’d gone on a date.
He was done waiting.
She understood.
She’d been waiting for that, really.
But still … it hurt.
A sob welled up in her throat, tried to choke her, but she wouldn’t let it. She forced herself under control and then grabbed her iPhone, a pair of earbuds, jammed them in. She dribbled water on a paper towel to dab at her eyes.
She waited another moment and then moved out into the hallway, smiling when she saw Ian.
“You’re back. Ella Sue?” Ian’s teeth flashed white in his beard.
Moira shook her head. “She had to run back out. Are they already here?”
Ian nodded, although his eyes were … sad. When she passed by him, he caught her in a quick hug. He said nothing and she forced herself to give him a curious look.
For a moment, she thought he’d say something. But then he just shook his head. “Come on, then. Ready to hassle your brother?”
“It’s a sister’s job.” They walked together into the large, cheerful room where everybody waited. Light shown in brilliantly, but for her, everything seemed dull, dark, and lifeless.
Her gaze landed on Gideon. He gave her a short nod, but that was it. Unlike the way he’d always looked at her, the way she’d always expected him to look at her, she realized.
She gave him a casual smile as she told herself, Show time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
To a McKay, family is all.
Family is everything.
Brannon sat with Hannah at his side and his family around them. Moira was at the head and he wondered what she thought it meant that Ella Sue continued to seat Gideon at the foot, across from her.
Of course, if Moira—or Ella Sue—knew that Gideon had spent the better part of last night traipsing around town with Deputy Maris Cordell, then Moira would shut down and Ella Sue just might upend the soup tureen over the man’s head.
He then wondered if that might count as assaulting a police officer. Not that Gideon would ever charge Ella Sue for attacking him with a big bucket of soup. He loved the woman too much.
Distracted, he glanced around the table.
Everybody was there.
But not everybody was sitting.
Ella Sue was still bustling around and he tried to catch her eye.
He was already worn out. Not that it took much. He eased a little higher in the chair and slid Hannah what he hoped was a casual glance. She had her glass of water in her hand and smiled at him as she took a sip.
He wished they could do champagne. But it wasn’t fair to her, so he wasn’t having any if she couldn’t.
After. Once the baby was born.
If she said—
“I was going to wait for this,” Ian said abruptly, standing up from his chair.
Ella Sue appeared in the doorway, her brows arching high over her eyes.
Everybody else was looking at Ian.
And then grinning as Ian went to one knee in front of Neve.
“Hey!” Brannon snapped. Then he had to stop.
Ella Sue clapped a hand over her mouth, a laugh escaping.
Ian glared at him. “Do you mind?”
“Actually, I do.” He would have slumped in his chair or gotten up to kick Ian’s ass, if he could have.
But he didn’t have the energy, or even the strength, for that, so he sat and brooded.
When Hannah glanced at him, he managed a weak smile.
Ella Sue continued to laugh.
“Neve.” Ian stared at her as though she had hung the stars in his universe, teeth flashing in his beard.
She had a hand pressed to her lips. Her right hand, because Ian had her left hand.
“You’re my heart, Neve,” he said simply. “Say you’ll be my wife.”
Her response was to fling her arms around his neck and start kissing him.
“Is that a yes?” Gideon asked.
“It better be,” Brannon muttered.
Hannah smacked at his knee. “Oh, hush. Quit being so grumpy.”
“I got good reason.”
Ella Sue had finally stopped laughing, leaning against the door. “Hannah, honey, give the man a break.”
Then she slid her eyes over to Brannon expectantly.
“I shouldn’t do this now,” he said sourly. “He ruined it.”
All of a sudden, every eye in the place, Neve’s and Ian’s included, were on him.
Hannah looked startled as he shifted around and caught her hand. “I can’t get down on bended knee,” he said softly. “If
I do, they’ll have to pick me back up. But I’ve got this … and unlike that ass, I was planning to do this. Here’s my proof.”
He flipped open a box.
The box, other than a quick check that afternoon—from him and from Ella Sue—had remained closed for twenty years, closed, and sealed, tucked away in a vault inside the bank in town.
Hannah sucked in a breath, startled.
“This was my mother’s,” he said softly. “My father gave it to her. And before that, my grandfather gave it to my grandmother. The diamond has been in the family for generations … since Patrick McKay had it set in a ring and gave it to his bride Madeleine and brought her here from New York.”
Hannah slowly lifted her eyes to his. “Brannon…”
“It always goes to the oldest son, for him to give to his wife. As the only son…” He cleared his throat. “Hannah, will you marry me?”
He couldn’t go to his knees. So Hannah climbed into his lap, gingerly, taking care not to bump into him as she wrapped her arms around him. “That better be a yes,” he said into her ear.
“Yes, you big idiot,” she said, a husky sob tripping her up halfway through. “It’s a yes.”
“Then let me put on the ring.”
She clung to him another moment and then straightened up, watching as he slid the old, elegant band into place. The diamond, almost as large as her pinkie nail, gleamed up at her, set in a band of platinum. It was elegant and genteel and beautiful.
“You can get a new setting. My mom did. That’s—”
“I love it.” She leaned in and kissed him. “I absolutely love it.”
He buried his face in her hair.
She laughed, a shaky, nervous sound. “This is seriously as old as the town?”
“Yes.” The answer came from Moira and Hannah looked up, saw the woman she would soon be able to call sister.
Moira pulled something out from under her shirt. “We all have something—by tradition. The locket goes to the oldest daughter. Neve has a ring. That goes to the youngest child. If there are middle children there are other pieces, too. They stay in the vault otherwise, although any of us can use them. But these pieces are the main ones, the wedding ring, the locket, and the emerald that Neve has.”
“I don’t wear mine,” Neve said, her voice husky. She smiled a little. “I’ll wear it at my wedding. But that one is still in the original setting and it’s pretty delicate.”
The Trouble with Temptation Page 31