by Lily Baldwin
A mirthless laugh escaped Liam’s lips as he shook his head, clearly still unable to believe what had happened. Liam looked at Angel. “It was just like what happened when we were kids.” Then he turned to Ethan. “When Angel was sixteen, her best friend’s dad did some contract work for Lockwood Luxury. Same deal. My dad refused to pay the guy what he’d promised and put the guy out of business. They lost their home. Angel tried to reason with my dad, but—”
“What the hell,” Angel snapped. “How could he get away with it again?”
“The law doesn’t favor the little guy,” Ethan told her. “If a contract case goes to court, the most the contractor can win is what was promised originally, but they still have to pay for their own legal fees. So even if they do win, they still lose money, which is why they almost always settle for whatever the owner offers to pay, especially if they’re a small company.”
“Yeah, but shouldn’t the owner be held accountable for trying to cheat the contractor?” Angel insisted.
Liam leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. “You can’t file for punitive damages in a contract case. No matter what, the owner walks, paying no more than what he originally promised.”
“Then contractors must get screwed all the time,” Angel said in disgust.
Ethan shook his head. “Only dirt bags take advantage of the law.” He looked at Liam. “Sorry, man.”
A sad smiled curved Liam’s lips. “You’re right. My father was a dirt bag, but he was a hell of a lot worse than either of you know.” Liam slumped back in his chair. “When everything went down, I told my professor. I thought maybe Lockwood Luxury was in the red or something and didn’t have the money to pay the guy, and my dad just didn’t want to admit it. Together, my professor and I went through the company records to see if there was anything we could do to strengthen profits.” He shook his head. “Instead, we discovered Dad had embezzled millions from the company.” His eyes shifted to the window. “And he had connections to the mafia,” he said quietly.
“Are you serious?” Angel blurted, sitting up straight.
Liam looked at her, his eyes hard. “Angel, he did shit you don’t want to know about.”
Ethan squeezed Angel’s hand before he stood and crossed to the sideboard and poured three snifters of brandy.
“Thank you,” Liam muttered when Ethan offered him one of the glasses.
“You were right, Angel.” Liam said before downing the amber liquid. “I didn’t believe you when you said Dad was a crook, but you were right.”
Ethan could feel Liam’s fury and heartbreak. He poured him another drink.
“Thank you,” Liam said again to Ethan. Then he looked at Angel. “After you left, he told me you had it all wrong, and I ate it up, all his lies.”
“You were just a kid,” Angel said softly.
Liam snorted, a look of disgust twisting his features, disgust clearly aimed at himself. “So were you.” He shook his head. “I can only imagine how hard life has been for you, all alone. And I did nothing to help you.”
Tears stung Angel’s eyes. “It wasn’t your fault, Liam.”
Ethan’s fury reached new heights as he looked at Angel’s glistening eyes. Knowing that she had also suffered at the hand of Stanley Lockwood made him madder than he’d ever been before. But he took a deep breath to calm down. He had one question that Liam had yet to answer. “What did you do when you found out the truth?”
Liam looked up at him helplessly. He downed his drink. Then he slumped forward, resting his head in his hands. “I did the only thing I could. I handed everything over to the police.” Liam sat back and stared out the window for several moments. Then at length, he continued, his voice bitter. “It was pretty clear that he was going to do hard time. In the end, Dad chose not to go to prison.” He shook his head and set his empty glass down on the table.
Angel stood, crossed to her brother’s side and wrapped her arms around him. “You did the right thing, Liam.”
“My brain knows that,” Liam said. He pressed his lips together, fighting back tears. “Now, my heart just needs to catch up.”
She held him close. “I am so sorry, Liam.” Then she pulled away and met Ethan’s gaze. “I’m sorry about all of this. I’m sorry about your father. I sorry about—”
Ethan pulled her toward him and gently pressed a finger to her lips. “Angel Sullivan, you owe no one an apology, least of all me.”
Chapter Sixteen
“We’ll talk soon, Liam, and remember, you’re coming to Maine for Christmas this year…okay…I love you, too…bye.”
Angel ended the call and set her phone down on the arm of her Adirondack chair. She wrapped her fleece blanket tighter around her shoulders and gazed out at the mountains she loved so well.
“How’s Liam doing?” Ethan said as he stepped out onto the balcony with two steaming mugs in hand.
“Thank you,” she said before taking a sip of hot chocolate. She closed her eyes and let the rich, bittersweet taste coat her tongue. Then she looked at Ethan, whose brows were drawn with concern. She lifted her shoulders. “He’s okay. It’s a lot for him to deal with. And no matter how many times I tell him he’s not to blame for his dad’s death, I know it’s eating him up inside.”
Ethan nodded, his lips pressed in a grim line. “This will stay with him. It will harden him, but he will come to understand that we are all accountable for our own actions.”
“You’re right,” she said. “Liam will be okay. He just needs time.”
A notification popped up on her phone. She picked it up. “Speaking of needing time.”
“What is it?” Ethan asked.
“Another text from my mom. I wish Liam hadn’t given her my number.”
“What does she want this time?”
“Forgiveness.” She set her phone down. “I will forgive her—she’s my mom. But I’m not ready yet.”
Ethan nodded his approval. “Don’t let anyone rush you.”
She took another sip of rich chocolate and looked out over the distant mountains awash in myriad colors, orange, yellow, bright red, and deep green. October brought a chilly crispness to the air, and the foliage was so beautiful it stirred her heart and stole her breath.
“I still can’t get over this view, Ethan,” she said as she stood and walked to the railing.
“Neither can I,” he said, his voice deep and unhurried.
She turned and realized he was looking at her. She blushed and tucked her hair behind her ear.
He stood up and crossed to her side. “Can I ask you something?”
She smiled. “Of course.”
“Why the name Sullivan?”
A sad smile curved her lips. She shrugged. “My best friend growing up, the one whose family Lockwood screwed over. After everything went down and they lost the business and their home, they ended up moving to Ohio where her mother had grown up—you know, to make a fresh start. Her name was Skye Sullivan. I took it as my alias to honor her.”
“The two of you haven’t spoken?”
She shook her head. “Her family forbade her to have anything to do with me.”
He cupped her cheek and softly ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “I could help you set things right with her. You could give her family the money owed them.”
“Really?” she said. “You would do that?”
“There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”
Tears stung her eyes. “I would really love to do that. It could help me make my own fresh start.” She set her mug down and looked out upon the sea of vibrant color. “That is what I want—a fresh start. My eyes are wide open, and I’m looking forward without fear.” She turned then and pressed a kiss to his lips. “Thanks to you.”
He pulled her close. “So, what do you think of the name Calloway?”
A smile tugged at her lips. “It’s my favorite name.”
He took a step back and slowly dropped to one knee. Her heart lodged in her throat. She swallowed h
ard as she watched him reach into his pocket and pull out a ring. The diamond glinted in the cool light. “You are already my Angel. Will you also be my wife?”
She threw her arms around his neck, causing him to fall backward. “Yes,” she shouted.
His strong arms surrounded her. His smiled melted her heart, and his blue eyes pierced her soul.
For so long, she had been alone, her life void of true warmth, true joy.
But now…she had found true love.
The scent of his body ignited her desire. She needed to feel him, to know he was real, to know he was hers. She kissed him with all her love, all her passion, and he returned her kiss with an intensity that stole her breath.
Beneath the warmth of the fleece blanket, he eased her pants off. She spread her legs wide, taking him into her arms. He filled her. His body stroked hers. Need built within her, so dire, so painful, and yet so exquisite. She cried out, desperate for the pain to stop, and yet she never wanted it to end, the promise of repletion just thrusts away. “Don’t stop,” she begged. His own strangled cry sounded just as she crested toward fulfillment. They clung to each other as wave after wave of pleasure rocked through their bodies, leaving them sweating and panting in each other’s arms where they would find happiness together, forever.
The End.
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New from Lily Baldwin
The Devil in Plaid
The Devil in Plaid
A passion too intense to deny…
Lady Fiona MacDonnell is certain Laird Jamie MacLeod is the devil himself. Their clans are sworn enemies, each steeped in hatred born from a long-standing feud. But when threatened by a powerful neighboring clan, they must unite to survive.
The Devil has never been hotter, his angel never so fine, but will their forced marriage be hell on Earth or together will they find heaven?
Can’t get enough braw Highlanders? Meet Lily Baldwin’s Scottish Outlaws. Jack, Quinn, Rory, Alec, and Rose. They are outlaws to the crown but heroes to the Scottish People. Here is a wee taste of Jack:
Isabella stepped out into the courtyard just as a coach bearing the Trevelyan coat of arms clattered through the gate.
“Damn,” she muttered under her breath before forcing a smile to her lips.
Her betrothed, Lord Hugh Trevelyan smiled when he saw her. “Dearest Isabella.” He brushed his lips against her gloved hand. His light brown hair grazed his shoulders, and his fine, blue eyes shone bright.
She dipped in a low curtsy. “You have come to see me off?”
He smiled. “Of course, dear friend. I only wish I could accompany you, but responsibilities hold me in town for the next fortnight. Are you quite certain your journey cannot wait?”
She smiled but shook her head. “I am anxious to see my sister and meet my new nephew.”
His lips parted slightly as if he wished to ask her again, but then he pressed them closed and for a moment cast his gaze to the ground. “I am happy for you,” he said, still keeping his eyes averted.
Her own stomach fluttered with excitement. “I cannot believe I am to be reunited with Catarina. It feels like a dream.”
He smiled and stepped closer, taking her hands in his. “I think this trip will be good for you. You will see how content your sister is now that she has wed and started a family.”
Tears stung her eyes. “Indeed, I hope to find her very happy.”
“When we are wed, you will be equally as content. Love will grow, Bella. Are not friendship and respect the strongest foundations for any marriage?”
She nodded, pressing her lips together to fight back her tears. She had heard his defense of their forthcoming nuptials time and again.
But I do not love you, her heart screamed.
A rumbling announced the arrival of her carriage. “Thank you for coming, but I must go now.” She turned away and allowed the footman to help her into the carriage.
Hugh peered at her through the window. “I know I can make you happy, Bella.”
She looked into his warm blue eyes and saw the boy she once knew. There had been a time when she had thought of him as her brother. “I miss the way we were,” she said. Then she leaned her head back against the smooth, velvet cushion. “I miss the way everything was.” Regret gripped her heart as her carriage rolled forward through the gate and into the city.
After King Edward had sacked Berwick, his first command was the construction of a massive outer wall. For five years, Isabella had watched the walls climb higher and higher. They blocked the view of the sea and countryside, confining the city. But even as she left the city limits behind, she knew men would continue to erect her king’s dream—just one more cage for her soul to silently rage against.
However, the further from Berwick and Hugh she rode, the easier it became to forget. Rolling hills invited her gaze with a feast of sunshine and flowers. Leaning out the window, she shifted in her seat so that she could turn her face to the sun. She slid her finger along the rim of her fitted wimple, which entrapped her hair and neck, letting the sun touch only her cheeks. Still, golden heat eased her spirit. She inhaled the fragrant scent of blue bells. A smile suddenly stretched her lips wide. It grew wider still, until her cheeks ached with delight. The rich scent of flowers and earth combined with the brightness of light so that she felt as if she were seeing these things for the very first time. And, in a way, she was. She had not left Berwick in five years, and the Bella who had journeyed from home before was not the same Bella now riding through the countryside. The other Bella had a mother. The other Bella could never have guessed at the cruelties one man could inflict upon thousands of others.
Shadow fell as the road snaked through a thick wood. Still leaning out the window, she marveled at the lush green underbrush that shivered with foraging creatures. Then she jerked back in her seat. She heard thunderous snaps, fast and furious, coming from up ahead, followed by a thud that shook the ground like a giant’s footfall the instant before an explosive crack shuddered through the carriage, bringing it to a halt. She slammed forward, then pitched back. Wincing, she righted herself in her seat. The clang of swords stung her ears and the cries of men, her heart. The iron scent of blood filled the air. Her chest heaved as she fought to breathe. Swords and twisted faces flashed past her windows. Trapped. She had to get away. The door jerked open, a leering face. She kicked. The grappling hand retreated. She scurried back. The door she leaned upon burst open. She fell. The hard ground stole her breath. Then men descended upon her.
∞∞∞
Jack charged through the woods with his four brothers trailing just behind. They had been tracking the Redesdale coach for nearly three miles, waiting for the flat landscape to give way to a hill from which they could descend upon their prize. Having at last reached a wooded slope, Jack galloped to the top and signaled for them to don their masks. They had moved ahead of the coach, but it was almost upon them. He leaned low in his saddle. The thrill of the catch set his heart to race. Moisture beaded against the fabric of his mask as his breath quickened. He raised his fist in the air, preparing his brothers to attack. Once his fist swung down, they would be unleashed like a furious black storm upon the unsuspecting nobles. Almost there. Just a few yards to go. His breath hitched as a great crack rent the air. He jerked upright and stared with wide eyes at a tree on the other side of the road plunging in front of the coach. The driver pulled hard on the reins, but it was too late. The wheels thundered into the tree, splintering to pieces. Before Jack could draw his next breath, men, dressed in peasant’s attire, sprung out from the woods with swords raised high and attacked his prize. He threw up his hands and let loose a string of curses.
“What’s our move?” Quinn said.
Jack shook his head. “We have no move. Those thieves stole our prize.”
Rory tore off his mask. His blue eyes sparkled. “They’re Scottish rebels. ‘Tis
as Bishop Lamberton predicted. Our people are once more ready fight.”
“And look at how well they do against guards on horseback,” Ian said.
Jack shot a glance back at his youngest brother. His long red hair hung in tangled disarray.
“Cover back up, lads. I want a closer look.”
Jack eased his horse further down the slope to watch the skirmish. The peasants were, indeed, making surprising progress. Three guards were slain and the others would soon be overwhelmed. He leaned forward in his saddle and eyed the ragged gang. Their humble clothing bore the wear of toil but their broad shoulders and thick waists belonged to men who did not know scarcity.
Jack shook his head. “Look at their swords. Those aren’t the weapons of farmers?”
“What does it matter?” Rory said. “They’re fightin’ the English and winnin’.”
Jack’s eyes narrowed on the scene below. “Somethin’ isn’t right.”
Quinn nodded. “Look at the skill with which they fight.”
“They are not peasants,” Jack said with certainty.
His brothers fell silent as the last guard was pulled from his horse. Several blades glinted in the sun as the tips were plunged into the wretch’s belly.
“’Tis done then,” Jack murmured. He was about to turn away, but then the coach door opened and a lady fell to the ground. Veils obscured her face. The fineness of her tunic bespoke of great wealth. Again he cursed their luck. Whatever fortune she carried with her, should, by rights, be theirs. They had, after all, tracked her for miles. She disappeared behind the sea of men.
Ian slid off his horse. “What are they doin’?” Crouching low, he darted past an opening among the trees, then squatted behind a large copse.