Christopher, Barbara - Keeper of Key.txt
Page 24
disdainful look at Caleb. She’d never noticed before how he
tilted his head as if looking down his nose at everyone.
She switched her attention to Caleb. He looked more
comfortable with his surroundings. His actions revealed a casual
façade that intrigued her—strong, silent, and dangerous.
Definitely a man that shouldn’t be taken lightly.
Her pulse throbbed, and her mind raced with confusion.
Caleb made her heart dance and her body ache in a way that
had all her senses humming. Definitely dangerous.
With each second of silence she saw his posture change.
Each deliberately calculated move accented his altering mood.
He slowly filled his coffee cup and replaced the decanter. Steam
swirled from his cup, and, keeping his back to them, he lifted
the mug to his lips, took a sip, and set it back on the counter.
His hand remained curled around the handle. She watched his
shoulders sag and his head tip forward, his knuckles turning
white as his grip tightened.
Gradually he eased his fingers free. As she continued to
watch him, he lowered his arms, clutching the edge of the
counter. His shoulders lifted in a slight shrug, then straightened.
After taking a deep breath, he turned and fixed his gaze on her.
Becci whipped her braid back over her shoulder. When
she saw Michael send Caleb a calculated smirk, she curled her
fingers into her palms.
Michael thought he’d won.
“It’s true you’ve handled inviting the employees of Ascomp,
Michael, but that doesn’t mean I can’t invite whomever I want.”
“It’s a private party.”
“Michael...” Becci’s voice, raspy with anger, echoed in
the intense silence. He turned the smirk in her direction and,
with a slight tip of his head, indicated for her to continue.
She gathered her courage and rested her hands on her hips.
“Michael, this is my party. Not only did I invite Caleb, but he
will be attending as the host.”
“Host? I thought....” Michael’s voice hissed through his
clenched teeth, and anger sent blotches of color to his cheeks.
Becci studied the way he drew in a deep breath and released
it. She’d encountered this side of Michael once before. Angry
and volatile.
“I told the president of the company that I would be
hosting,” he said.
“Then you’d better inform him of your mistake. You are
not a member of this household.”
Michael started to protest, and she raised her hand,
signaling him not to speak. “Caleb has been a dear friend of
the family for a long time. He came here to help me with the
problems surrounding the manor, and it’s only natural that he
be the one hosting the event that could save my home.”
Becci drew in a deep breath, hoping she’d put enough
sincerity into her voice to disguise the lie. After all, it held a
smattering of truth. He had been a friend of Rebecca’s and
Saul’s, and that was a long time ago.
“If that’s your wish, Becci,” Michael said stiffly. “I’m your
friend, too, and at one time I thought you loved me. I just want
you to know that I’ll work with you no matter what Ascomp
decides. Hopefully, after the party is over, you’ll come to your
senses about us.”
“There is no us, Michael. I meant what I said last night. I
don’t love you. Time won’t change my feelings, and I had hoped
we could be friends.”
“I am your friend,” he repeated. “When he’s gone,” Michael
said, tipping his head in Caleb’s direction, “I’ll still be here.”
Before she could respond, he caught the lapels of his jacket
and straightened them, then stroked his tie into place. “I told
Mr. Latham that the party would begin with cocktails at seven
and dinner at eight. I’ll be here around six to help with the last
minute details.”
“That won’t be necessary. Caleb and I can handle
everything.” She wanted to tell him not to bother coming at
all, but he was her only connection to Ascomp.
Michael lifted his shoulders in a nonchalant shrug and
pulled the folded sheet of paper out his jacket again. He tapped
it gently against his palm. “There’s another piece of property
down on Beale Street that Ascomp is considering. The other
place is well established. It’s a soup kitchen that provides for
the homeless. Ascomp can only afford one grant, and Mr.
Latham is pretty sure the soup kitchen will get it. Why don’t
you sign these preliminary papers? Then once you know
whether or not you get the grant, you can either tear these up or
go along with the deal.”
A cold smile curled Michael’s lips as he slipped a pen from
his shirt pocket and held it and the papers out to Becci again.
“You’re going to have to sell anyway. You might as well go
ahead and sign it over.”
She reached for the documents and the pen. What difference
would it make if she signed the papers now or later? She could
tear them up if she changed her mind.
Don’t sign.
Becci froze, her hand hovering over the papers. The
whispered command became a chanted repetition in her head.
Don’t. Don’t. Don’t.
She drew in a quick breath and looked over her shoulder,
hoping to see Caleb pleading with her not to sign. His stern
expression and pursed lips indicated that the order hadn’t come
from him. Yet, it sounded like his voice. Had she read his
thoughts again?
Becci laid the pen down and stepped back. “I’ll wait. What
difference does a day make among friends?”
She didn’t miss Michael’s flushed cheeks or the anger that
once again flared into his eyes. Without a word, he snatched
the papers off the table and stuffed them back into his coat
pocket. He paused beside Caleb on his way out.
“You haven’t won yet, Harrison. You won’t get the
medallion. It’s mine. The gold, the medallion—all of it is mine.”
Ascott spoke in a barely audible whisper, but Caleb had no
trouble hearing him.
His stomach churned, but years of practice kept his face
devoid of emotion. He didn’t miss the challenging glare in
Ascott’s dark eyes, nor did he fail to hear it in his words.
Michael Ascott had tipped his hand. Caleb held the man’s gaze
until the man pivoted away and stormed out of the room.
The front door closed with a loud crack, and moments later
the sound of flying gravel marked his departure. Caleb drew in
a deep, calming breath. He couldn’t let Ascott get the gold or
the medallion. Becci needed one, and he needed the other.
Caleb raked his hand through his hair. He dumped the last
of his cold coffee down the drain and set his cup in the sink.
“We have furniture to clean and a room to whitewash,” he
said heading toward the door. “It shouldn’t take more than a
couple of hours. I’ll finish upstairs while you prepare the
evening meal.”
Caleb caught the d
oor frame and faced Becci. “Thank you
for standing by your invitation. I’ll try not to let you down. As
I told you before, I’m not knowledgeable about the modernday
practices involved with parties, and I’m not sure I’ll be
able to mingle with these people. If they ask about my past,
how will I answer them?”
“Honestly. However, I suggest you leave out the dates, and
don’t get into a discussion about any modern-day equipment
such as computers,” she said, laughter lacing her voice. “I’d
hate for one of the guests to call for a padded-wagon and a
straitjacket.”
He grew quiet, and his smile faded. Becci caught his arm
and raised up on her tiptoes to brush a quick kiss against his
lips.
When Caleb pulled away, her heart plummeted. Did he
hate her so much he couldn’t stand for her to even touch him
now? She glanced up and gasped at the pain clearly etching
Caleb’s face.
“What wrong? What did I do?”
“Nothing. I had a little tussle with a nest of yellow jackets
today, but I’ll be okay.”
“Are you sure?” She cupped her hand to his cheek. “You’ve
got a fever.”
Before he could answer, Becci whirled away, grabbed the
aspirin bottle out of the cabinet, and popped open the top. “Here,
take these,” she ordered as she caught his hand, shook out two
tablets, and shoved a glass of water in his other hand.
“You might as well do as she says. Unless you’re allergic
to aspirin they won’t hurt you, and they will reduce the fever,”
Lilly supplied.
Caleb shrugged and tossed the pills into his mouth,
grimacing at their taste. He quickly drank two glasses of water,
but the bitter taste remained in his mouth.
“Do I need to call a doctor? Have you ever been stung
before?” Concern glistened in Becci’s green eyes, as she caught
his wrist and pressed her fingers against his pulse. Her gentle
touch created a fire in him that had nothing to do with the fever
heating his body. He’d never had anyone worry over him. He
glanced at Lilly, who seemed nearly as worried as Becci, then
fixed his gaze back on Becci.
“Mary Rebecca, I’m fine,” he said softly, trying to keep
his voice even. “This isn’t the first time I’ve had a run in with
a nest of yellow jackets. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got work to
do.”
“No,” Becci snapped. “Aunt Lilly, please get the
antihistamine capsules and the calamine lotion out of the
medicine cabinet.”
“Yes, dear. I’ll bring some cotton balls too,” Lilly said as
hurried toward the back of the house.
“You,” she said pointing a finger at his chest, “get that
shirt off so I can examine you.”
He worked the buttons free without looking away, shrugged
out of the shirt and laid it over his arm.
“Sit,” she ordered, whirling a chair around for him to sit
in. Again he followed her orders without speaking.
Becci examined the angry welts on his chest.
“Oh, Caleb.” She feathered her fingertips over them. Then
she slowly lowered her head and brushed her lips to the red,
swollen area. She felt Caleb tense, then relax. She followed a
path over his chest sprinkling soft kisses on the other welts.
“Becci.” He ground out her name.
She forced herself to move away. Her hands were trembling,
and her breath raced nearly as fast as her heart pounded. What
in the world had gotten into her? She’d never been so forward
in her life. She’d seen the pain in his eyes and had wanted to
take it as her own.
“I think there are a couple more places on my back,” he
whispered huskily. He caught her chin with his thumb and
forefinger and turned her head until she could see his face.
There was no teasing glint in his eyes, only a deep heated desire.
“Maybe you could tend them later.”
Lilly entered the room, saving her from having to reply.
Becci stepped away from his touch. Opening the bottle of lotion
her aunt handed her, she soaked a cotton ball with the thick
pink liquid while Lilly filled his water glass and handed him
two antihistamine capsules.
“I’ll p-put this on the ones you can’t reach,” she stammered
as she stepped around him.
She dabbed each welt, closed the bottle and handed it to
Caleb along with a clean cotton ball. After inspecting the soft
puff carefully, Caleb did as Becci had done—saturated the
cotton and doctored the places on his chest, arm and hand.
He’d enjoyed the feel of Becci’s hands caressing his back,
but he’d loved the way she’d kissed his injuries. Lord, he wanted
her to finish what she’d started. He wanted her to kiss him all
over.
He stood and cleared his throat. “If you’ll excuse me now,
I’ve got work to do.”
“Maybe you should lie down. I’ll check on you in a little
while just to be sure you’re okay,” Becci called after him as he
headed toward the hallway.
“That’s not necessary.”
Becci wanted to shout that it was necessary, but she knew
he was right.
He glanced back at her, and his lips twitched into the
crooked smile she’d grown accustomed to seeing. He nodded
and disappeared through the door.
Becci dropped into one of the kitchen chairs, closed her
eyes and pressed her fingertips to her temples. “Oh, Aunt Lilly,
what am I going to do? I think I’m falling in love with him.
He’s not like anyone I’ve ever known. Yet, like everyone else,
the gold is all he’s interested in.”
“That’s not true,” Lilly replied hastily. “He would never
let gold come between him and what he feels is right.”
Becci lowered her hands to her lap. “But that’s just it. He
thinks that crazy medallion is the only solution to his problems.”
Lilly caught Becci by the chin and lifted her face so she
had to look her aunt in the eye. “Becci, he thinks the medallion
is the key to the time lock—and according to the journals, he’s
right.”
“I need that medallion as much as he does. Besides, he
wants it so he can go take care of another woman and her son.”
“You’re right. He does, but that’s because he’s a man of
his word. He made a promise, and he must keep it. Trust him,
Becci. According to the journal there should be enough wealth
in this house to keep both of you for the rest of your lives.
He’ll leave you what he can.”
“The amount doesn’t matter. I don’t want him to have it
because I don’t want him to leave,” Becci admitted. “Even if it
means giving up the nursery.”
Lilly wrapped her in a soothing hug. “He might come back.
Whatever happens, you’ve got to believe it’s for the best. But
Caleb Harrison has no choice. He has to go home.”
“To Rebecca,” Becci snapped. The flare of jealousy hit so
fast she couldn’t keep the harshness out of
her voice.
“Yes, to Rebecca,” Lilly agreed. “Not because he loves
her, but to keep the promise he made to her and Luke. He
promised he’d take care of them, and he’ll keep his word, no
matter what it costs him. You wouldn’t want him any other
way, and you know it.”
***
Caleb shrugged into his shirt and tucked it in while he
listened to Lilly’s and Becci’s muffled voices flutter up from
the kitchen. Sweat trickled down his back even though the air
conditioner kept the house cool.
The fever. No, nerves.
And he could blame it all on Becci’s soothing touch. She’d
eased the pain of the stings, but she’d unwittingly caused
another kind of ache.
He had to forget about his carnal desire and concentrate
on getting home. This was the chance he’d been waiting for.
For the first time in a week he was upstairs alone. All he had to
do was enter Becci’s room and turn the knobs on the dresser.
Standing outside her closed bedroom door, he hesitated
for a second, then pushed the door open. The room held the
secret. He could feel it in the slight prickling of his skin when
he passed over the threshold.
Stopping in the middle of Becci’s room, he closed his eyes
and drew in her scent. Wildflowers—flowery and delicate just
like her. No matter how far he traveled—be it in years or
distance—he would never forget her. Every time he lifted a
flower to draw in its delicate perfume, or heard the rain patter
on the roof, he would think about her. Every mirror he glanced
into, he would remember his first glimpse of her lithe body as
she tried to shut out the storm. Even now he could feel the
gentle caress of her fingers on his forehead.
He flicked a quick glance over his shoulder. Becci’s
soothing voice slithered under his skin as it ascended in
whispers from the floor below. He couldn’t understand her
words, but he treasured them. The same way he treasured the
feather-like kisses she had treated him to just moments ago.
She’d dismissed Ascott, leaving the way clear for him to
court her. He’d never properly courted a woman. Elizabeth
had wanted none of it, and Rebecca’s and his was not a courting
relationship.
He cared for Rebecca, and he planned on marrying her.
But his body hadn’t burned with need for her like it did for