Vicki Hinze - [Seascape 01]

by Vicki Hinze

  He knew. Her heart sank. Before he could confront her, she’d confess what she should have confessed when he’d openly admitted to holding back. She’d taken the coward’s way out, simply acknowledging something hadn’t been quite as it should have been. “I held back, too, Tyler. I didn’t mean to do it, it just... happened.”

  The lies between them lay heavy on her soul, but as long as they resided there, she couldn’t make love with MacGregor again. As things stood, she couldn’t let him know all of her, and to let him know any less made a mockery of... whatever this was she felt for him and he felt for her. She should have realized that before and hadn’t. But she did realize it now.

  The temptation to tell him everything burned in her throat, in her heart. She fought it, knowing that in telling him the truth now, after withholding it for so long and through so much, she never again would know any of him. She would lose him.

  And tonight she’d only worsened the problem. She’d added another row of bricks to the wall between them. Now she not only withheld information about Carolyn, but also about Tony.

  Had he been real? Was she losing her mind?

  That she didn’t know terrified her.

  “Maggie, honey, you’re shaking.”

  Her throat tight, she whispered, “Hold me, Tyler. Would you just please hold me for a while?”

  He closed his arms around her and whispered against her hair. “This is the second time you’ve told me that you’re not telling me everything. I’m curious, okay? And I’m only human. I want to know what this is all about.”

  “Not now, please.” She squeezed his side. “Please.”

  “All right. Not now.” His sigh ruffled her hand and breezed warmth over her face. “But soon.”

  Maggie awakened snuggled to MacGregor’s chest. The smell of the sea clung to his skin and she inhaled deeply, so relieved that he’d come back with her and stayed with her through the night. She hadn’t wanted to be alone, she’d feared being alone, and she thought MacGregor just might have known it, though she’d no idea how he could have. Without him there holding her, she’d have paced the floor all night, worrying herself sick about this Tony business. Instead, MacGregor had held her and, feeling safe and warm and content, she’d stopped shaking and had fallen asleep in his arms. And, bless him, on her awakening, he’d still been holding her.

  Though she hated to leave the haven of his arms, had the most godawful feeling that if she did she’d never again feel them around her, she had to do it. She had to ask Miss Hattie about Tony—without MacGregor being around to hear it. She had to know if Tony had been real—Good grief, am I seriously considering this?—or a ghost.

  As Maggie passed the grandfather clock on her way to the kitchen, it chimed nine. She smelled apples and cinnamon and her stomach stopped fluttering.

  When she stepped into the kitchen, Miss Hattie stood at the stove, humming along with the radio and pulling a coffee cake out of the oven. “Morning.” Maggie got a glass out of the cabinet then at the fridge filled it with cold water. Her throat felt as if a camel had parked in it. Did she have a fever?

  A fever.

  Yes! With a fever she could have delusions. Tony could have been a delusion!

  “Morning, dear.” Miss Hattie glanced up at Maggie and her smile faded to worry. “Oh, my. Are you feeling poorly?”

  Heat surged to Maggie’s face. Did Miss Hattie know MacGregor had slept in Maggie’s room last night? That he was still up there sleeping? Oh, please, God, let it be a raging fever. “I think I’m sick.” She took a big gulp of water. “I think I might have a fever.”

  Miss Hattie came around the end of the counter and slapped a blue-veined hand to Maggie’s forehead. “Why you’re as cool as a cucumber, dear. Though you do look a bit peaked.”

  No fever. No delusions. Damn. “I didn’t get much sleep.” That was true enough.

  “Well, why don’t you go on back up and rest some more. It’s awfully messy outside this morning. Been sleeting since dawn.”

  She didn’t know MacGregor was in Maggie’s room. Maggie leaned against the wall beside the fridge and watched Miss Hattie step back around the counter then lift a knife to her coffee cake. “Do you recall me asking if anything unusual happened around here?”

  “Of course, dear.” Miss Hattie ran the knife’s edge around the smooth edge of the pan, then turned the pan upside down on a pretty flowered plate.

  Maggie had the feeling the angelic woman was avoiding her eyes. “Well, something strange might be happening.” She had to be delicate here. What if Tony was just a villager? If she came across as though he were definitely a ghost, she’d look like an idiot.

  “Strange?” Miss Hattie paused, holding the knife midair, and looked up at Maggie. “What might that be?”

  She debated for a long second. Plan A. She’d tell Miss Hattie everything, and see how she responded. She knew about MacGregor’s boundary-crossing attempts and didn’t think he was nuts. But she did think those episodes were psychologically rooted, induced by his troubles. Still, she could be trusted. Maggie long ago had concluded that. She opened her mouth to begin relaying the oddities, but her throat suddenly went bone dry. She paused to sip from her glass.

  Look not beneath the veil, Maggie. It’s not yet time.

  The man’s whisper. Tony’s whisper.

  Maggie’s hand shook, threatening to slosh the water right out of her glass. He obviously didn’t want her telling Miss Hattie anything. What would he do if she did it anyway?

  Because Maggie didn’t know the answer to that, she switched to Plan B. “Do you know a man named Tony?”

  Miss Hattie dropped the metal pan. It clanged on the tile counter, then vibrated on and on. She pressed a finger to it to stop the noise.

  A knock sounded at the mud room door.

  Maggie looked over and saw a sleet-dappled Vic through the foggy glass pane.

  Miss Hattie looked immensely relieved to see him. “Ah, he’s early with the mail today.”

  If her jerky gestures and edgy manner were a fair indicator, she was relieved to see him right that moment. The timing of the interruption permitting her to avoid answering Maggie’s question couldn’t have been more perfect had it been choreographed. Tony, are you doing this intentionally? What’s wrong with Plan B?

  He didn’t answer.

  Maybe he couldn’t answer because he didn’t exist.

  Miss Hattie rubbed her hands dry on her dishcloth then tossed it onto the counter. “Why don’t you go on back to bed for a while, dear.”

  Knowing she wouldn’t hear another word on the matter of Tony, Maggie nodded, mentally searching for Plan C. “I think I will.”

  “That’s a good idea,” Miss Hattie said, looking definitely upset. “Rest and you’ll feel better. I’m sure of it.” She headed toward the mud room door to let Vic in.

  Of course! Maggie set the glass in the sink, left the kitchen then rushed up the stairs. Vic!

  MacGregor was still asleep. Stretched out on his side, he held the twisted, blue coverlet scrunched up near his chin. Vulnerable. Tender. But strong and gentle and caring. Maggie sighed. He was a good man.

  And she’d lied to him repeatedly and suspected him of unforgivable crimes that paled to those her father had committed.

  Guilt swarmed her and tasted so bitter. MacGregor had been busy earning redemption points, but she was the one who needed to earn them. She had to do what she could to make up for her suspicions and doubts, for all the wrongs she’d done him. But first, she had to resolve this Tony thing so she knew she hadn’t totally lost her mind, only her good judgment and sense.

  She dressed quickly, tugging on jeans and a sweatshirt, then jostled his shoulder. “MacGregor?”

  He didn’t stir. He didn’t even flinch.

  “Tyler, wake up.” She jostle
d him again, harder. “It’s important.”

  “I’m awake.” He snaked an arm around her and pulled her down on top of him. “God, but I love an impatient woman.”

  “No.” Maggie ordered him. “Quit, dang it, and get your buns out of that bed.”

  “Get out?” He faked a perfectly transparent frown, belied by the twinkle dancing in his eyes. “What, you mean you didn’t wake me up to make love?”

  Phony jerk. But a darling one, and far too gorgeous for his own good—or hers. “No, I didn’t.” Her face burned hot for the second time already that morning.

  “Are you saying that making love with me isn’t important?”

  “Damn it, MacGregor, get sex off your brain. This is serious.”

  “We don’t have sex. And I take our lovemaking—very, very different from having sex, Maggie—extremely serious.”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. “Will you shut up and listen to me?”

  “I think I’d rather kiss you.”

  “MacGregor, you’re trying my patience here.”

  “I can tell.” He laughed at her, ran a hand down her back and cupped her buttock in his huge hand. “You’ll come out ahead by just giving me my kiss. I can be very persistent when the occasion arises, and you might—”

  “You might not be dead by dark, MacGregor, but only if you knock it off now.” She glared daggers into his eyes. “I said this is serious, damn it!”

  His expression immediately turned solemn. “What?”

  She backed off the bed then stepped away. “I should’ve told you this last night, but we, um, got—”

  “Last night?” He let out a sigh strong enough to power windmills. “Damn it, woman, are you always going to hold out on me?” He sat up and stared at her. “What is it this time?” A muscle in his jaw ticked.

  “Would you chill?” She wrung her hands. “You’re making me nervous.”

  “I’ve never rattled you.”

  He’d always rattled her. But she kind of liked him thinking he hadn’t. “True, you haven’t, and this is no time to start.”

  “Well?”

  He looked about as approachable as a ticked-off Doberman guarding his turf. She licked at her lips. How in the world could she explain seeing a ghost and not expect the man to think she was crazy—despite all the weird occurrences here. She’d seen, actually seen, a ghost—maybe. “I wasn’t holding out on you. I saw something last night, and it shook me up. When we got back here, I intended to tell you about it, but then you brought up the legend and us making love, and well, I got sidetracked and the whole thing kind of got pushed right out of my head.”

  He smiled, clearly liking the thought of that. “Understandable.”

  “That arrogant attitude of yours is shining through, MacGregor, and I swear we don’t have time for it.”

  “Okay. I’ll gloat later at making you forget yourself. What’s this crisis all about? What did you see?”

  “A man. When we were out on the cliffs.”

  “Before I came out there?”

  “No.” This was the touchy part. “You were there. He said his name was Tony.”

  “You talked to him while I was there?”

  He didn’t believe her. Not surprised, but oh-so-disappointed, she nodded.

  “I didn’t see anyone, Maggie.”

  “I know.” She paced from the side of the bed to the turret room rug then paced it again, rubbing at her temple, which had unwisely chosen this very moment to begin throbbing. “Get dressed, darling. We’ve got to talk with Vic before he leaves, and he’s already here.”

  “Vic?” MacGregor tossed back the covers, rolled out of bed, then reached for his slacks.

  Maggie’s breath stuck in her throat. She hadn’t seen him naked before and, as he pulled up his slacks, the ridge of muscles flexing in his broad chest taunted her. Her palms and breasts tingled, remembering too intensely the feel of his fine, dark hair, his sleek skin, grazing them. Lush velvet over sun-warmed granite. Her throat went thick. Damn him and his beautiful nose and his beautiful body. He looked as perfect as he’d felt.

  “What’s Vic got to do with this?” MacGregor grabbed his shirt, tugged it on then started working on the buttons. When she didn’t answer, he paused and stared at her. “Maggie? Honey, what’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” She answered too quickly, and her voice squeaked at least an octave too high. Heat surged up her neck and flooded her face. Seeing his insistence for truth coming, she answered before he could express it. “I, um, hadn’t seen you, um... .”

  “Maggie, are you embarrassed?” He sounded incredulous. “Honey, we just spent the night together. I’ve got your fingerprints on every inch of my body. You can’t possibly be embarrassed.”

  “Shut up, MacGregor:” She glared at him. “Seeing you is... different.”

  He smiled, looking extremely pleased with her. “Oh.”

  “Don’t you dare get smart-mouthed. I really don’t need that this morning and, I’m warning you, any lip and I’ll subtle revenge your backside for at least the next thirty years—provided you don’t provoke me into killing you before then.”

  He didn’t look worried at all by the threat. In fact, he looked kind of delighted by it. Ah, geez. Her mind really had taken a flying leap. He liked getting out of subtle revenge.

  “Let me get this straight.” He cocked his head. “I’m supposed to be upset that you find my body appealing?”

  “No, but...” Well, hell. Now, no matter what she said, she lost. How did she get herself into these situations with him? She rubbed at her throbbing temple. “Will you just get dressed, MacGregor?”

  “I am dressed.” He shrugged and slid her a wicked smile that had her heart fluttering.

  So much for recovering even a shred of dignity. “Well, it’s about time.”

  “Let’s discuss it later. Right now, tell me about Vic and this man from last night.”

  She blew out a deep breath. “The man said his name was Tony. I’d never seen him before, but I figured Miss Hattie might know him. So I went downstairs awhile ago and asked her about him.”

  “What did she say?”

  “Nothing. But she’d been holding this pan, and when I mentioned Tony’s name, she dropped it. The question clearly upset her, Tyler. Unfortunately, before she could answer it, or refuse to answer it, Vic came in.”

  “So she didn’t say she knew this Tony, or that she didn’t.”

  “Right. No confirmation or denial.” Maggie frowned. “But once before, when I asked her if strange things went on here, she laughed and said that things were just as they’d always been.”

  “Ambiguous as hell.” He finger-combed his hair.

  “Exactly.” Maggie passed him her brush off the dresser. “Your hair’s standing on end.” When he took the brush, she added. “Anyway, it’s clear she has no intention of answering me, so I have to ask about Tony elsewhere. I figured who better than Vic. He knows everyone around.”

  “Clever.” MacGregor’s eyes shined appreciatively. “Vic’s delivered the mail here since God was a baby. If there’s a Tony in the village, he’ll know it.”

  “Exactly.”

  MacGregor swept her brush through his hair then put it back on the dresser. “Do you think this Tony is our entity?”

  She lowered her gaze, afraid if he thought she’d lost her mind it’d show in his eyes. Shaky enough without seeing that this morning—Why couldn’t I have a fever?—she wisely avoided the risk. “I don’t know. Maybe. Or he might just have been a villager.”

  “It was awfully foggy.” T.J. glanced at the window. “Sleeting like hell out there.”

  “It wasn’t sleeting, it was misting. Don’t spare me, Tyler.”

  “I meant now. But last night it was misty, and the fog was damn thic
k. I could just not have seen him.”

  “And hearing him? Could you just not have heard him, too?”

  Sam Grayson flitted through T.J.’s mind. T.J. blinked then blinked again. He should have figured this out sooner. “I get it now, honey.” He hugged her to him, his insides like jelly. She stood rigid enough to snap, her hands at her sides as if she didn’t trust his embrace. Likely, she didn’t, and the fault for that rested squarely on his shoulders. “You didn’t tell me because you were afraid I wouldn’t believe you.”

  She stiffened even more. “If you didn’t, I wouldn’t blame you.”

  “Yes, you would. Situations reversed, I’d blame you, too. But we’ve got a bond, Maggie, and you need to remember that.” Sam Grayson’s belief in her had been all important to Maggie. That bore remembering, too. T.J. cupped her face in his hands and looked directly into her eyes. “I promise to always believe you, Maggie. Always. No matter what. You just have to trust me, honey.”

  Trust him? Maggie couldn’t trust him—or any man. But she didn’t dare to risk talking about it. She didn’t deserve his trust. And right now, she was closer than she’d been in a dozen years to crying. God, but she needed a bath to calm down. But that, too, would have to wait. Just as savoring the sincerity in MacGregor’s promise would have to wait. “Come on.” Maggie moved away. “Vic’s bound to be done with his coffee by now. We’ll miss him.”

  “We’ll catch him.” MacGregor caught her by the arm and pulled her back to him. “First things first.”

  He gave her his best killer smile. “Good morning, honey,” he whispered, then kissed her lips.

  Oh, she could get used to this. So used to this. So used to him...

  Vic! She pulled back, faking frustration with a deep sigh and false bravado. “Geez, MacGregor. I’m telling you we’ve got a solid lead on our entity and you’re acting as if it’s no big deal.”