by Lisa Childs
“But that doesn’t make you responsible for her actions.” And as she said it, she realized she wasn’t responsible for her mother’s issues, either. No matter how hard she’d tried, even if she hadn’t been a child, she wouldn’t have been able to save Merrilee from her problems.
“I’m responsible for my own actions,” he said. “And I’m very sorry that I wasn’t completely honest with you from the beginning.”
“And I wouldn’t have let you anywhere near La Bonne Vie if you had been,” she admitted.
He tilted his head and studied her face. “I think you would have. You have a big, kind heart, Edith Beaulieu. You would have understood my wanting to find out who my father is.”
Declan had told her the results of the DNA test, which had been no surprise. The men bore such a striking resemblance to each other that they’d had to be related. She didn’t know why she hadn’t noticed earlier except that, beyond their physical appearance, the men were nothing alike.
“I’m sorry,” she said, and she reached out to him, unable to stop herself from offering the comfort she suspected he needed and that she doubted Declan had provided. She linked her fingers with his. “I’m sorry that you found out who he is, only to learn he’s already dead.”
Linking their fingers, he released a shaky breath. “You can’t miss what you never had.”
“Is that true?” she asked doubtfully.
“No,” he replied. “I miss what we never had. I miss what we could have been together had I been honest with you from the start.”
From that amazing night they’d shared, Edith knew what they could have had. And maybe they could have it yet—if Declan was right and River really had feelings for her.
From the way he looked at her, with such hope and desire, she suspected that he did.
“It was my fault, too,” she admitted. “I kept pushing you away.”
“I thought that was because you were involved with your boss.”
She laughed. “Declan is my brother.”
“I know that now.”
Her amusement fled. “I was pushing you away because I was scared.”
“You?” he scoffed. “Scared? You’re the most fearless woman I’ve ever met.”
“I was afraid of falling for you,” she said. “I was afraid of falling and then getting sick...the way my mother is.”
“You’re not your mother any more than I am mine. And if something happens, we’ll be okay.”
“I know that now,” she said. “I’m not afraid anymore.”
“Are you still mad at me?” he asked. And finally he touched her. Sliding his fingertips along her jaw, he tipped her face up to his.
“No.”
“I’m glad you’re forgiving,” he said. “Because I’m bound to screw up again.”
“Hey!”
“But I love you,” he said. “And I will do my best to never, ever hurt you again.”
Her breath escaped in a gasp. Then he stole it away completely as his mouth covered hers. He kissed her deeply—with all the love he’d proclaimed.
She moved her hands over his chest, pushing him back just enough so that she could catch her breath again. His heart pounded fast and hard beneath her palm.
“I’m sorry,” he said, “I shouldn’t have assumed that just because you’ve forgiven me—”
“I love you, too,” she assured him. “I love you so much.” More than she had ever wanted to love anyone. But that overwhelming, all-encompassing emotion didn’t scare her anymore. Knowing he loved her just as much made her feel as safe as she’d felt that night she’d slept in his arms with her head on his chest.
With her Marine by her side, she felt invincible.
Hell, she wasn’t even afraid of Livia anymore.
* * *
Livia Colton had unfinished business in Shadow Creek. She wasn’t going anywhere until she settled this score—until she showed exactly what happened to whomever betrayed her. It didn’t matter who that person was—friend, foe or child.
She stood outside the gates to Hill Country Farms—just watching and waiting—until the perfect moment to exact her revenge.
She’d had ten years to think about this, to figure out exactly who had betrayed her. And she’d had ten years to plot her revenge. She could wait a little longer to carry out her plan.
* * * * *
If you enjoyed this story, be sure to
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CAPTURING A COLTON by C.J. Miller,
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COLD CASE COLTON
by Addison Fox
PREGNANT BY THE COLTON COWBOY
by Lara Lacombe
COLTON UNDERCOVER
by Marie Ferrarella
COLTON’S SECRET SON
by Carla Cassidy
Available now from Harlequin Romantic Suspense!
“I know your secret. I’m going to tell.”
As Sarah Taylor-Cox stares at the anonymous letter, her body starts to shake with dread. She has everything to lose—a gorgeous husband, a beautiful baby, and a picture-perfect house in the Hamptons. And now, the lies she’s built her life on are starting to crumble, one by deadly one...
Keep reading for a sneak peek at the first episode of
TAKE IT TO THE GRAVE (Part 1 of 6)
by Zoe Carter
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Don’t miss TAKE IT TO THE GRAVE!
A 6-part psychological thriller that will have you guessing till the very end!
“I know your secret. I’m going to tell.”
As Sarah Taylor-Cox stares at the anonymous letter, her body starts to shake with dread. She has everything to lose—a gorgeous husband, a beautiful baby, and a picture-perfect house in the Hamptons. And now, the lies she’s built her life on are starting to crumble, one by deadly one...
Collect all 6!
Take It to the Grave (Part 1 of 6)
by Zoe Carter
Take It to the Grave (Part 2 of 6)
by Zoe Carter
Take It to the Grave (Part 3 of 6)
by Zoe Carter
Take It to the Grave (Part 4 of 6)
by
Zoe Carter
Take It to the Grave (Part 5 of 6)
by Zoe Carter
Take It to the Grave (Part 6 of 6)
by Zoe Carter
Take It to the Grave (Part 1 of 6)
by Zoe Carter
Prologue
The clouds gather thick and furious, shutting out the sun.
The smell of ozone is intense, warning me more effectively than the grumbling thunder. A storm is coming—a big one, perhaps the worst we’ve had in years.
The thought of Elliot gets me moving.
Elliot, with his soft skin and plump cheeks, the darling dimples at his elbows. Just four months old.
An image of another baby, another time, creeps into my mind, but I push it away, stumbling on the damp sand. The nightgown my husband is enamored with twists and turns in the growing wind, tangling between my thighs. I long to tear off the slick fabric, but I don’t dare take the time. I have to find my child.
“Elliot!” I scream his name even though he is too young to answer.
The thunder makes a mockery of my cries, stealing my breath before I can try again.
It’s no use, anyway.
The beach is empty.
Waves throw themselves at the shore again and again, churning themselves into foam.
The ocean fizzes around my ankles and I climb farther up the shore to keep from getting dragged into the angry water. My foot comes down on a broken shell, but I ignore the pain as it cuts through the skin. The agony that swells in my chest at the thought of losing my son is far worse than the throb of my wounded heel.
I can’t lose him—he’s everything.
Please don’t hurt him. Not Elliot. He’s so innocent...
But all babies are innocent, aren’t they?
The rain, when it comes, is as enraged as the ocean, and I’m soaked through in an instant. I can’t bear the thought of my sweet little boy in this downpour. He doesn’t have his jacket. The image of Elliot, shivering and turning blue in his little sleeper, drives me forward. My eyes strain to see in the dim light, every breath I take ending in a cry for my missing child.
I can’t leave him out here; I can’t.
Then I realize the beach isn’t empty.
There is someone standing by the rocks, watching me.
Waiting for me...
“Elliot!”
My scream travels farther this time, echoing through the storm. Strength I didn’t know I had floods my legs, and I run faster.
As I picture my missing son and how wonderful it will feel to wrap my arms around him again, I give no thought to my own safety.
I run toward the dark figure on the beach.
Sarah
I tilt my head and let the sun caress my face, resisting the urge to close my eyes. Elliot burbles on my chest, and I stroke the soft blond down on his head.
“Lucky baby,” I whisper. “Look what a handsome man your father is.”
Sometimes it’s difficult to believe how lucky we both are. Warwick is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen—it’s still hard to believe he’s my husband. He grins at me now, flashing the kind of teeth most people will never achieve without hours in a dentist’s chair. His father catches Warwick smiling at me and gives him a friendly nudge.
“Pay attention, son. We don’t want to burn the steaks.” My husband returns his attention to the grill. It’s a gorgeous day, perfect for relaxing on the veranda of our East Hamptons home.
Edward Taylor-Cox winks at me and the good-natured jostling between father and son continues. Though Edward’s hair is silver and the skin around his eyes crinkles when he smiles, he is still movie-star handsome. Warwick is destined to age well. I am a lucky woman indeed.
Lucky, lucky, lucky...
One of our maids breaks my reverie. “More iced tea, miss?”
I hadn’t noticed my glass was empty. This is the first truly nice weather we’ve had in weeks. Too bad House Beautiful couldn’t have come today, instead of last Thursday when it was raining. “Yes, please.” I hand Emily my sweating glass.
“She’ll have plain water,” Warwick’s mother says with a frown. “Too much caffeine is bad for the baby.”
“But I’m not—”
I was about to admit I’m not nursing, but close my mouth with a snap, nearly biting my tongue. Eleanor would remind me that breastfeeding is the best gift I could give my child, and while that may be true, she isn’t the one who has to fight with Elliot. I’m still trying, but if he prefers a bottle, what’s the harm?
Emily hesitates, holding my glass steady on her tray, as her eyes flick from Eleanor’s to mine. Feeling sorry for her, I decide to end the impasse. “Water would be lovely. Thank you.”
“And not too much ice, either. Cold water is bad for the system,” my mother-in-law adds, tucking her pristine platinum bob behind an ear.
Emily nods, anxious to leave the patio. “Yes, ma’am.” She performs an awkward little bow-curtsy combo before scurrying away, something she only does in deference to my mother-in-law.
The annoyance must have shown on my face, for Eleanor widens her eyes, the picture of innocence. “What? I’m only trying to help. You have to take care of yourself, Sarah. You’re a mother now.” She touches my baby’s head. “What a darling boy. He’s beginning to resemble Warwick more every day, don’t you think?”
“Yes, he is.” Privately, I think Elliot resembles me, especially around the lips and eyes. His coloring could have come from either of us. I’m blonde, as well, though my hair is a shade darker than my husband’s. Only time will tell whom Elliot takes after.
Be nice. She’s trying, and she’s been good to you—and your son.
“So we’ve agreed. Elliot’s christening party will be included as part of our summer gathering this year.” Eleanor plucks invisible lint from her white linen suit. She’s the only person I know who wears a suit in this heat, but I’ve never seen her perspire. My son has more visible pores than she does. “The guest lists should be compatible, so I don’t foresee any difficulties.”
The Taylor-Coxes are American royalty. Their East Hamptons home is even more luxurious than ours, and it’s close enough that it will be easy to shuttle Elliot back and forth during the party. Eleanor’s offer is meant to be generous, and certainly our friends will be impressed.
“If you’re sure...it’s a lot of trouble for you.” I hope my tone conveys the proper gratitude.
It could have been left at that. We could have enjoyed the gorgeous day, eating the glorious food Edward and Warwick grilled for us, and then stretched out for a nice long nap.
But of course Eleanor has to go too far.
“Your family must attend this time, Sarah—I insist.” Her lips purse into a moue of displeasure. Seeing her expression, Emily hurriedly hands me a glass of tepid water before vanishing into the house again. “It’s getting ridiculous. Why do they have such an aversion to us? People will talk.”
I shoot a pleading look at Warwick and his father, but they’re studiously ignoring us, piling steaming steaks on a platter. Once again, I’m left to fight my own battle.
“It’s not that. They’d love to meet you.” Taking a deep breath, I remind myself to be patient. It’s not Eleanor’s fault—my family situation must seem strange to outsiders. “They’re just very busy. I don’t even know where my sister is half the time. She’s always out of the country.”
“It’s not right we haven’t gotten a chance to meet them,” Eleanor says, her brow furrowing with a disapproving expression I am all too familiar with. “They weren’t even at the wedding, for God’s sake. What kind of people miss their own daughter’s wedding? If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were hiding something.”
I choke on a mouthful of water, soaking the collar of my sundress and n
arrowly missing my son, who gurgles in his sleep. “Hiding something? What on earth would I be hiding?”
Warwick stops joking around with his father. Their little haven by the barbecue falls silent. I can feel their eyes burn into me as they watch the show.
“Well, I certainly don’t know, do I?” Eleanor hands me a napkin. “You’ve always been so mysterious, Sarah.”
My cheeks grow hot. “I’m not mysterious. It’s just—”
“All right, all right, that’s enough.” Warwick comes over and plants a kiss on the top of his mother’s head. “At ease, Mother.”
She swats at him, but I can tell she’s flattered by his attention. Her Ice Queen exterior softens. Only her darling son gets away with mussing her hair.
Good. Maybe now she’ll lay off, let me get some rest. Maybe Warwick will have a heart and tell her I’m exhausted, that Elliot has been waking up every hour on the hour and when I try to breastfeed it takes him forever to latch on.
No such luck.
“Is what I’m asking so wrong? I’m merely trying to include Sarah’s family. I want us to get to know one another.”
“Of course not, Mother.” Warwick perches beside her on the lounge chair and pats her hand. “You’re being completely reasonable, as always.”
“You know I don’t like sarcasm, Warwick. Seriously, though, it’s only a party. It’s not like I’m saying they should spend the entire summer—”
Eleanor’s eyes gleam, sending my heart plummeting into my sandals.
Uh-oh.
“Yes, that’s perfect,” my mother-in-low crows, clapping like a delighted child. “That’s a fabulous idea. Your family will spend the entire summer here, with us. That will give us time to really get to know one another.”
The thought of my mother, waltzing around the Taylor-Coxes’ multi-million-dollar estate with a glass of gin in her hand, makes me feel ill. Before I can respond, Warwick leans across and squeezes my thigh.
Don’t panic, his eyes say. I’ve got this.