To Love, Honor and Defend

by Beth Cornelison

  As much as she wanted to tell him no, the incident on the stairs, her nightmare had rattled her more than she cared to admit. Maybe having Cal around would give her more protection. And a little peace of mind.

  But protection wasn’t justification for getting married. Especially not to Cal. Letting Cal back into her life posed a far more imminent danger to her heart. Her throat tightened. Damn it, he’d already made a riot of her emotions.

  “If I go…” she began, hating the seductive rasp in her voice.

  The smoky haze in his eyes told her he’d noticed, too. His gaze locked on her mouth, and she fought the urge to retreat a step. Or to lean in and kiss him. She cleared her throat before she went on. “If I go with you now, you’ll take my no for an answer and leave me alone?”

  “You won’t tell me no.” His grin was confident and disarming. “As I recall, you never could.”

  Libby scowled at his back as he sauntered toward her living room. Maybe the old Libby never could tell him no, but since he’d walked out on her five years ago, she’d changed.

  Chapter 3

  Nothing had changed at Renee’s apartment since he’d been by earlier in the week. Except perhaps a few more crusty dishes were piled in the sink and on the coffee table. A stronger stench of rotten garbage permeated the air.

  Cal watched Libby react to the scene. With her eyes wide and her stance rigid, she pressed a hand over her mouth and took in the chaos of clutter and filth.

  “You’re early.” Renee stumbled back from the door, tripping past the spot where her boyfriend Gary—or Jerry, or whatever the creep’s name was—lay passed out on the floor. Judging from Renee’s glazed expression, she was high again. Surprise, surprise.

  “Actually I’m not. It’s past nine. Where’s Ally?”

  “Asleep, I guess. Try her room.” Renee rubbed her face hard and winced. Black circles ringed his ex’s eyes, and baggy clothes hung on her rail-thin frame. She’d lost too much weight in the last few months. Cal’s stomach knotted. Renee had been vibrant and beautiful when they’d first met. Her mind had been sharp. He hated seeing her like this. If Renee took such poor care of herself, what did Ally endure?

  “Renee, look at this place. Don’t you understand that the authorities could take Ally away, put her in foster care, if you don’t get your act together?”

  Renee scoffed. “I’m her mother. They can’t take her from me. And neither can you. I have rights.”

  “They can take her away, and they will. What about Ally’s right to have a clean home? To have someone love her and take care of her?”

  “I love her!” Renee wobbled, and Cal steadied her with a hand on her arm.

  He mustered every ounce of his patience. “Then get clean. I’m not fighting for custody to hurt you, Renee. I’m doing it because I love Ally. I don’t want to see her suffer.”

  Renee pulled free of his grip. “She’s fine.”

  Grunting his disgust and frustration, Cal stalked toward the back of the tiny apartment and nearly collided with a scruffy man who came out of the bathroom, zipping his pants.

  “Look where you’re going, man,” the hoodlum grumbled, bumping past Cal on his way back to the front room.

  “Who the hell are you?” Cal followed the man into the living room and divided a glare between the man and Renee.

  “Who’s askin’?” The stranger gave Libby, who still hovered by the door, a suspicious look. “Hey, do I know you?”

  Cal tensed, ready to intervene if the scumbag took another step toward Libby.

  She raised her chin and appraised the man with a honed look, one that doubtlessly brought hostile witnesses to their knees. “Not unless you’ve had a reason to appear in court recently.”

  Cal felt a quick tug of pride. Libby personified strength under fire. Cool and poised. Other than two nights ago in the parking garage, when she’d been so uncharacteristically rattled, he’d only seen her experience meltdown between the sheets. During sex, she let go, burned hot and fast like a forest fire in a drought. When his libido pulsed to life, he firmly pushed thoughts of tangling limbs with Libby aside for another time.

  “That’s right.” The slimeball wagged a finger toward Libby. “You’re the skirt from the D.A.’s office.” When the disheveled man stepped toward her, Cal instinctively moved to Libby’s side.

  “So, you’re familiar with the prosecutor’s office, Mr.—” Libby tipped her head, tapping a finger to her lips as if trying to remember something. “I’m sorry, who did you say you were?”

  The bum flashed an oily smile. “You can just call me Roach, lawyer babe.”

  “Roach, huh? Interesting. Family name?” Libby parried.

  Roach chortled and flopped back onto the stained cushions of Renee’s couch. On the floor, Gary/Jerry/whatever-his-name-was, stirred, coughed then lurched for an empty glass as he retched.

  Cal felt Libby’s shudder only because he’d put his hand on her arm to guide her away from Roach. “Come on. Let’s find Ally and get the hell out of here,” he said under his breath.

  With a nod, she followed him back to the corner bedroom, where Ally’s toys littered the floor.

  The bed was empty.

  Anxiety flashed through Cal with the force of a backdraft. “Ally?”

  Darting forward, he ripped the covers from the bed, searching for his daughter, even though the girl clearly wasn’t there. He cut a sharp glance toward Libby, whose face reflected the same concern and confusion that knifed him.

  “Renee!” He stormed out to the living room, his body tense with fury, his stomach knotted with dread. “She’s not there! Where the hell is my daughter?”

  Renee clutched her head and slouched in her seat, curling into a tiny ball. “Don’t yell! Damn, my head’s gonna explode.”

  “Where’s Ally? She’s not in her room!”

  His ex sighed heavily. “Have you looked in her closet?”

  Beside him, Libby gasped. He spared her only a brief I-told-you-so glance as he rushed back to look for Ally.

  When he snatched open the closet door, the flood of light from the bedroom revealed hidden horrors in the small, dark space. Cal winced as the odor of urine hit him. A spider scurried under a box in the corner.

  A raven-haired moppet raised bleary eyes to squint at him. “Mommy?”

  Emotions slammed into him. A tangled mix of relief, outrage and anguish squeezed his heart and brought him to his knees. “Oh, baby girl. It’s Daddy. Why are you in here?”

  Ally whimpered when he leaned down to scoop her up in his arms. “No! Leave me alone!”

  “It’s all right, Ally. It’s Daddy. Remember last weekend when we went to the park, I asked if you’d like to come visit me sometime? You said you did.”

  Ally nodded.

  “Well, I’m here so you can visit my apartment, stay with me for the weekend. Would you like that?”

  “Can we go to the park again?”

  “Sure, kitten. Whatever you want.” He tucked Ally under his chin and turned to carry her out. Her clothes were damp. “Ally, what happened to your nightgown? It’s wet.”

  Ally sniffed. “I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to.”

  “Didn’t mean to what?” Cal coaxed.

  “Wet my pants,” she whispered. “That man was in the potty, and I had t’go.”

  “Aw, sweetie. It’s okay. We’ll get you cleaned up. C’mon.”

  Libby stood two paces from the closet door, her face white and her features a mask of horror. He’d never seen Libby cry, but tears filled her eyes now. Her whole body shook.

  “Still think you can tell us no?” he rasped, wishing he could cry, too. Wishing he could throw back his head and howl for the suffering his little girl had endured without him.

  Sucking in a harsh, strangled breath, Libby bolted from the room.

  Libby sat inside Cal’s truck and wrapped her arms around herself. She concentrated on calming her ragged breaths and erasing the ugly memories that had chased her from Renee’s apa
rtment. When a movement outside the pickup caught her eye, she jerked her gaze up, her pulse jumping.

  Deep breaths. Don’t lose control.

  Cal approached the passenger’s door, carrying his daughter on one shoulder and a duffel bag slung over the other. Libby climbed from the truck on shaky legs and pulled the seat forward so he could put Ally in the back. A biting January wind whipped around her, and she shivered.

  “Thanks.” Sparing Libby a quick glance, Cal settled Ally on the back seat and gently tucked his jacket around her. “Sorry we took so long. I had to pack her things and get her changed into something clean.”

  “Mmm,” she hummed in acknowledgment, certain she couldn’t speak yet without her voice cracking. Bad enough she’d lost it in the apartment and fled like a startled doe. Way to keep it together, Counselor.

  Libby avoided Cal’s eyes as he lifted Ally’s small duffel into the truck bed. She’d seen his haunted despair when he’d found his daughter, and she couldn’t face his tormented gaze again. Not until she’d gotten a firmer grip on her own composure.

  Ally leaned against the far side of the truck, her eyes squeezed tightly closed. Too tight to truly be asleep. Libby recognized Ally’s game of possum for what it was—avoidance. How many times had Libby pretended to be asleep to avoid facing her mother’s drinking and boyfriends?

  A rock settled in Libby’s chest, choking her. An oppressive omen. The weight of dread.

  She was going to tell Cal yes.

  Damn it, she knew marrying him, for whatever reason, was flirting with disaster. But the ghosts that had rattled their chains in Renee’s apartment could not be ignored. The past could not be repeated. She couldn’t leave Ally to endure what she herself had barely survived.

  Even if it meant putting her heart on the line with Cal.

  Despite any possible threat from the stalker, first and foremost, Ally needed protection from her mother’s bad habits and neglect.

  Turning from Ally, Libby fastened her seat belt as Cal climbed into the truck. She felt his gaze on her, but kept her attention focused on the apartment stairs.

  Roach ambled out wearing a long trench coat and lighting a cigarette. The scruffy man, whose bleached hair spiked in all directions, seemed vaguely familiar. After a while, though, the parade of deadbeats through the court system began to blur. Still, she searched her memory for a previous run-in with Roach.

  Cal touched her arm, and she flinched as if burned. Her emotions were too close to the surface. Even the comforting graze of his hand triggered an electric reaction that crackled along her raw nerves.

  “You okay?”

  No, she longed to wail. I’ve just revisited my childhood and really need for you to hold me for a minute. Or a week.

  She gave him a curt nod. “Fine.”

  “You know, Renee hasn’t always been this way. When I met her, she was perky and intelligent. She had so much potential. Seeing her like this…”

  Judging from the grim set of Cal’s jaw and his white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel, he had plenty he wanted to say but couldn’t because of the four-year-old in the back seat.

  As they headed out of the parking lot, Cal’s eyes shifted to Roach, and a growl rumbled from his throat. “That guy’s trouble. I don’t want Ally around creeps like him. Before Renee got involved with Gary/Jerry/what’s-his-name, before her next hit was more important than our daughter, she wouldn’t have been caught dead hanging around with a jerk like that.”

  Libby cut her gaze back to the man in question. “The fact that he knew I was from the D.A.’s office tells me he’s had a few scrapes with the law. I’d be willing to bet he’s her dealer.”

  Dismay filled Cal’s face then shifted to cold determination. “Great. Renee’s consorting with criminals. More ammunition for my case.”

  Cal gunned the engine and peeled out of the parking lot. He drove in stony, brooding silence.

  She stole glimpses of his hard jaw and the unshaven shadow of beard that gave him a dangerous look. His appearance belied the gentle soul she knew lived beneath the rough-edged exterior. Her fingers itched to comb back the black hair curling over his collar and savor the rasp of his stubble beneath her hands. Five years ago, that weekend beard had abraded the tenderest places of her body, left his brand on her skin. The way his memory left its mark upon her heart.

  She swallowed hard, forcing down the knot in her throat. He’d made his choice. He’d left her, thrown away what they’d had together. Only a fool would set herself up for that kind of fall a second time.

  After a few minutes, the tense quiet in the truck became almost more unbearable than the thought of rehashing what had just happened, than facing the inevitable question: What are you going to do now, Libby?

  She couldn’t walk away. She never could. Not from her mother. Not from Cal. And certainly not now from Ally.

  She glanced into the back seat where Ally slept. The picture of this frail angel huddled in the back of her closet amid the filth was an image burned forever in Libby’s mind.

  “All right,” she said without looking at Cal. She turned to watch the stark, winter-bare trees pass outside her window and shivered. “I’ll do it. I’ll marry you.”

  Cal darted an uncertain look across the front seat then gaped as if he thought he’d heard wrong. Finally, he nodded.

  “Good.” He sighed wearily and rubbed the scar on his chin with his palm. “Thank you.”

  “But I have conditions.”

  He chuckled wryly. “Figures.”

  “Our marriage will be in name only. Separate beds.”

  Scoffing, Cal shook his head. “No way. The court has to believe I’ll give Ally a Leave it to Beaver home life. Ward and June didn’t keep separate quarters.”

  Libby snorted. “Pal, if you’re looking for June Cleaver, you’ve come to the wrong woman.”

  She turned to check on Ally again, in time to see a pair of curious blue eyes snap shut. A grin ghosted across Libby’s lips, and she faced the front again, giving Cal’s daughter the privacy she wanted and the freedom to observe her father and his friend uninterrupted.

  “I’m not asking you to make meat loaf and vacuum the house in high heels and pearls,” Cal said. “But I have to show the court that Ally will have a stable, two-parent home where she’ll be safe and loved.”

  “This one’s a deal breaker. You’re in the guest room, or I walk. I’m not sharing a bed with you.”

  A muscle in his jaw twitched, and he sent her a hooded glance. “Good enough. For now.”

  He turned back to stare out the windshield, and a strange hollowness poked at her. Irritated with her reaction, she squeezed the door handle even tighter. She was not disappointed that he’d accepted her term of celibacy so readily.

  “Fine.” And she was fine, too. Getting into bed with Cal Walters again, no matter how tempting, would be the height of stupidity.

  At a traffic light, Cal drummed the steering wheel with his fingers. “But you’ll need to keep up appearances in public. The world, the judge, has to believe we’re happily married…in every way.”

  “Fine.” Libby pressed a hand to her stomach, hoping to calm the swirl of apprehension growing inside her.

  Happily married? To Cal?

  Not so many years ago, sharing her life with Cal had been her greatest hope, her dream. Now the proposition seemed more of a nightmare. A recipe for heartbreak.

  “All right, then. Make time on your calendar first thing Monday to get the license.” Cal cut a sideways glance at her. “With the three-day waiting period, the soonest we can get married is Thursday.”

  She shook her head. “I have a case going to trial Thursday. I’ll be in court all day.”

  “All day?”

  “There’ll be a recess for lunch, but—”

  “Good. We’ll just grab a judge during your break and do it then.”

  “Cal, I—” She stopped, unsure what her objection was. But she couldn’t shake the foreboding sense that she
was making a terrible mistake.

  He hoped to God he wasn’t making a terrible mistake. Having listened to his mom and stepdad bicker over everything from scrambled eggs to the electric bill, he knew what it was like to grow up in a house rife with hostility.

  An all-too-familiar prick of guilt needled him. Hell, the hostility should have been a clue to what was really going on. He should have known. Should have done something sooner.

  One thing was certain—Libby would never endure from him what his mother had with his stepfather. Never.

  He watched from the door of his bedroom as Libby stroked a gentle hand over Ally’s cheek and tucked a teddy bear under his daughter’s arm. Libby had dived right in beside him, helping with Ally’s bath and fixing a hot brunch of pancakes and bacon before they shuffled his drowsy daughter off to nap.

  Despite her kindness to Ally, the silent treatment and physical distance Libby kept from him conveyed her feelings about their relationship loud and clear. Not exactly the parental atmosphere he wanted for his daughter.

  He’d hoped the warm, compassionate Libby who had stolen his heart years ago would be his wife. Every night of his incarceration, he’d dreamed of the woman who’d made him laugh, who’d kissed him in the rain and made s’mores with him over the fireplace flames. After three passionate months together, they’d been on the verge of taking their affair to a deeper, more personal level when Renee had called to say she was five months pregnant with Ally. He never got the chance to probe the deeper layers of the fun-loving and complex woman Libby was, the woman he’d started to love.

  He sighed his regret. Maybe he’d never regain what he’d lost with Libby. She could resent him all she wanted as long as Ally had the love she deserved.

  He stepped out of the way so Libby could back from the room and pull the door closed.

  “I have to leave.”

  He cocked his head. “Excuse me?”

  She gave him a pointed look. “Leave. Go home. Your little field trip this morning has put me behind schedule.” She squared her shoulders and jutted out her chin. “I have things to do today.”