Second Chances Boxed Set: 7 Sweet & Sexy Romances in 1 Book

by Tracey Alvarez

  “Lunch is ready. Wash your hands Lacey,” Winsome called her daughter away from playing with Casper in the empty lounge.

  “I’ll take her to the bathroom.” Jared took her hand and Lacey skipped off beside him.

  Winsome watched them, envy in her heart. Jared was so relaxed and open with Lacey and so guarded and resentful with her. Would he understand or forgive when he knew the truth?

  She forced the agonising question to the back of her mind.

  After lunch, they set to work, unpacking and arranging the rooms they had decided to use as their base living quarters in the huge homestead. The phone shrilled, the sound loud and echoing in the bare rooms. Jared answered it and came looking for her to find her kneeling shelving books on the bookshelf moved from his apartment.

  “Quentin and Catherine have asked us over for dinner so we don’t have to cook tonight. Is that okay with you?”

  Relief at the reprieve from spending the whole evening with him had her nodding. “I’d really appreciate that.”

  Jared returned, his brows drawn in a frown. “Quentin’s got a good business head, he may be able to suggest ways we can generate a cash flow until we can afford to restock the farm.”

  Unable to think of anything to say, Winsome remained silent. She glanced at Jared and his brooding, watchful expression sent panic skittering along her nerves.

  What had she let herself in for by agreeing to return here?

  Tamping down her anxiety, she focused on the task of converting the huge, echoing house into something resembling a home. While Jared set up their beds in the emptied apartment sitting room, she unpacked their clothes and Lacey unpacked her boxes. When Winsome tentatively suggested she share the room with Lacey, Jared’s reserved smile increased her apprehension about the coming night.

  She stared sightlessly at a book she held. Warmth and longing radiated through the coldness that had permeated her body for so long, making a mockery of her nervousness. If only she could look into a crystal ball and see the future. She exhaled a gusty sigh. If only…they were the two most useless words in the English language.

  With an impatient sigh she continued with the job at hand.

  Tonight, she thought with grim fatalism, tonight she may be able to get a handle of where their dislocated marriage was headed.

  Lacey, happily unaware of the undercurrents raging between her parents, was busy arranging her dolls and toys.

  With the bedrooms organised, they worked on converting the previously formal dining room into a comfortable sitting room. Her chintz covered chairs blended with the more elegant furniture from his apartment, giving the room a colourful country look, so different from the oppressive heavy furniture Gaelen had preferred.

  Jared lit the fire, adding to the friendlier ambience.

  “All we need is curtains.” He leaned back on his heels glancing around the room with satisfaction. “What do you think? Can you live with this?”

  “It’s much better than I’d thought it would be,” she admitted, flushing as she met his sardonic gaze. “Can we afford curtains?”

  “We’ll order them tomorrow.” He stood up and brushed wood chips off his hands. “What colour do you suggest?”

  “We’ll need to see samples.” Winsome lifted her chin, determined not to let him divine her nervousness. “I’m surprised how well our furniture blends.”

  “Why?” He impaled her with a rapier glance. “Our tastes have always been compatible.”

  Winsome shrugged, uncomfortable at this observation. She saw his mouth tighten at her evasion, his eyes hard and watchful. “We’ve finished here, let’s go. I want to have time to look at one of Quentin’s horses.”

  At the mention of horses, Lacey raced to his side tugging at his hand. “Can I have a pony?”

  Winsome drew in a ragged breath at her daughter’s eager question. Lacey had wanted to ride ever since visiting riding stables for a friend’s birthday party. The desire to ride hadn’t come from her, Winsome thought with a shiver. She was terrified of horses.

  “Uncle Quentin has a pony at his place that’s too small for him to ride.” Jared grinned as Lacey gave an excited little skip. “Would you like to come and look?”

  “Can we go now, Mummy?” She turned pleading grey eyes on Winsome.

  “As soon as you get your hat and coat.” Lacey skidded in her haste to get through the door. Winsome looked at Jared. “Bribery?”

  “No. Just trying to make up for four lost years.”

  The achingly sad words sat between them, echoing and hollow.

  “Why, Jared? Why did you cut us both off?”

  “I don’t know.” He surprised her with the candid admission. “Pride, hurt and grief make a rotten mixture.”

  Winsome looked at him and shook her head. “And with me gone, it was out of sight, out of mind?”

  He stiffened, blistering her with a look. “I’m not the one who walked out, or decided I’d had enough of marriage. And I never denied my daughter a parent; it may pay you to remember that.”

  On those bitter words he strode outside.

  When Lacey joined her, Winsome buttoned up her coat and straightened the collar before taking her daughter’s hand and walking out to the detached garage. Jared was transferring Lacey’s booster seat to his car.

  His bitterness was no real surprise. In walking out on him, she’d hit Jared where it hurt, his pride. She shivered as the cold, not entirely due to the keen southerly sweeping up from the Antarctic, seeped into her bones.

  They drove in grim silence. On the way to Levelly Lodge, they passed the Hautapu Cemetery. Filled with an ache too long unappeased, Winsome touched Jared’s arm and he slowed the car.

  “Can I visit for a few minutes?”

  He scanned her face with one all-encompassing glance and without hesitation, pulled the car onto the wide grassy verge. “Would you like me to come with you?”

  Winsome struggled with this and then shook her head.

  “Take as long as you like,” he said with an understanding that surprised her. “I’ll amuse Lacey.”

  Heart overfull with sorrow, Winsome averted her head as she alighted from the car. In that moment, she’d glimpsed the man she’d married.

  And that glimpse hurt, unbearably. It made her too aware of what she’d lost.

  Jared’s unconditional love and respect.

  Walking past the slim Mediterranean Cypresses and cheerful flowering camellias, regret walked with her. She hadn’t been here since that awful day she had watched Jared and Harvey carry the tiny oak casket, Matthew inside, to his final resting place.

  Instinct led her to her son’s grave.

  She knelt on the velvet turf, trembling fingers tracing the words carved into the simple granite headstone Jared had chosen.

  Matthew James Grainger

  One year, three months.

  Sleep, sleep our little angel.

  Winsome buried her face in her hands. Grief, exacerbated by awful memories, tormented her.

  “How am I going to tell your Daddy?” she asked in a broken, muffled whisper. “I’m so sorry, Matthew. So damned sorry.”

  Wracked with guilt, she lifted her head and stared into the distance. The Kaimai Ranges were silhouetted against the pewter chill of the afternoon sky.

  She’d been the mother, the caregiver, and hers was the guilt that Matthew had died so needlessly. It was a mother’s sacred duty to ensure her child’s safety, and no matter which way she looked at it, she’d been derelict in that duty.

  And no matter how sorry she was, or how sincere that sorrow, nothing would bring back her loving, laughing son.

  Overhead, in one of the camellias, a thrush burst into song.

  Life, a gruff voice echoed, soft and persuasive, life goes on, Winsome and drags you with it. The years will pass, whether the journey is willing or unwilling. It’s up to you to choose which path to take.

  The thrush seemed to agree, cranking up the volume of its evening serenade.
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br />   Winsome managed a shaky chuckle, despite the tears searing the back of her eyes. Desperately, she wished for their blessed relief.

  At last she stood up and brushed grass from the knees of her trousers. She walked to a camellia and snapped off a bloom. After cradling it for a moment in her palms, she laid it on her baby’s grave, the perfect symmetry of its waxy petals, somehow fitting.

  Chapter Four

  THE LATE AFTERNOON sun peering through a gap in the sullen clouds, etched every line of Winsome’s pale, ravaged face with startling clarity as she walked back to the car. Jared watched her, his heart heavy with sorrow and rage.

  Why had she left him? He was so certain, so sure of her love. Until the day she told him she was leaving. Then, obdurate, unemotional and utterly unswerving in her decision, Winsome left, stripping him of his pride, his very manhood, leaving him alone with the devastating grief.

  Then, he’d thought it was grief driving her. But now? It had taken little to persuade her to return, but she’d offered no explanations either. He was baffled. That awful scene after the funeral was now forcing him to question everything. Surely Winsome would have told him if things were as bad as Quentin had suggested?

  Never once, had he witnessed Gaelen as other than sweet and gracious to his young wife and yet that night his mother... Jared shook his head. That night he’d seen a woman he didn’t recognise.

  What the hell had happened to Winsome when she’d lived with his family at Totara Park? Winsome had never complained.

  But Jared, whispered an uncomfortable inner voice, remember she did ask you to find us a home of our own. Timidly sure, but she did ask.

  No, surely that had nothing to do with her leaving. Surely the yearning for her own home was the natural nesting desire of the female of the species. Precisely. Your wife was a mother, pregnant with a second child and needed her own nest for her young.

  It would never do to have another accidental death at Totara Park.

  Quentin’s words the night of their father’s funeral joined the chorus of guilt and doubts see-sawing in his mind. What was his brother implying? That Matthew’s death was no accident? The sinister thought refused to be dislodged.

  Other uncomfortable memories intruded. Winsome’s screams as she held their dead child. Her silence…her shocked ivory face…her dead eyes…her withdrawal from him…hurt eyes…eyes that now watched his every move with wary distrust.

  The night of his father’s funeral he’d looked from his mother to Paige and then to Winsome. The agony he’d glimpsed in her eyes left him horrified, sick and disoriented. He didn’t need to be a clairvoyant to know that nothing was as it seemed.

  Tonight, Jared, you are responsible for Lacey’s and Winsome’s safety under this roof.

  Had his brother been afraid for their lives? Had Quentin though he’d hurt Winsome and Lacey? Surely not. He shook his head. But denial didn’t diminish the harshness of those awful words. Later he’d asked Quentin…his brother’s reaction unexpected. You want answers Jared? Then you need to ask Winsome. I will never betray her confidence.

  As for that preposterous guardianship…He watched his wife walk closer through narrowed eyes. He had his pride, if they weren’t about to tell him, he wasn’t about to ask. But halting the tormenting questions wasn’t that easy. What did they know that he didn’t? So close in age, Winsome and Quentin had always been close.

  Jared wasn’t proud of his raw, garden jealousy.

  Winsome opened the car door, sat in the seat and shut the door quietly, never once looking directly at him.

  She brought with her an air of decided fragility.

  Not immediately starting the car, he leaned across and cupped her chin in his palm, lifting her face and saw the sheen of tears in her eyes.

  Guilt and sorrow laid a heavy hand on his heart.

  “Tears Winsome? Aren’t they a little late?” The heavy sarcasm in the quiet words brought instant regret but to his dismay Jared discovered a powerful demon, riding herd on his shoulder.

  Winsome’s heart plummeted and she hunched away from his accusing eyes. Would he never forgive her for being unable to cry? The hard knot of grief and guilt intensified.

  He started the car and they drove to Levelly Lodge in silence.

  Quentin bounded over to the car as they pulled into the neatly mown parking area at the Lodge, shrewd grey gaze skipping from face to face as he opened the door and unbuckled Lacey.

  “Would you like to come down to the stables with us?” Quentin asked the little girl lightening the heavy silence between the adults. “I’ve got a pony down there. Would you like to see him?”

  “Can I Mummy?” Lacey tumbled out of the car, eyes so like her uncle’s, alight with excitement.

  “May I,” Winsome corrected, giving Quentin a grateful smile. “You may, but keep your coat and hat on.”

  “I will, I promise.” Lacey was fairly dancing from foot to foot in excited anticipation.

  Jared looked into her excited face, a gentle smile touching his hard mouth as she took his outstretched hand, pulling him towards the stables.

  “Jared?” He turned when Winsome spoke, one dark eyebrow raised. “You will watch Lacey, won’t you?”

  She heard his disgusted sound across the distance. “That’s a pretty cheap shot. Does it make you feel better?”

  Winsome swallowed her hurt and resentment. “It wasn’t meant that way. How much experience have you had watching a quicksilver four-year-old who’s as pig-headed as you are?”

  Lacey looked from one parent to the other, her lip trembling ominously.

  “Jared and Winsome, you’re upsetting Lacey,” Quentin intervened. “She’ll be fine with us. I know she can be a mischievous little monkey.”

  Disconsolate, Winsome watched as Jared turned his back and strode towards the stables. She rubbed the toe of her sneaker in the bark at the edge of the parking lot. A hand on her arm made her look up.

  “Hi. I’m Catherine and you must be Winsome. Those bad-mannered oafs never introduced us.”

  “Quentin’s told me so much about you.” Winsome looked into a pair of gentle brown eyes. “I guess you heard that?”

  “Yes—.” Catherine squeezed her arm, her grimace rueful.

  “I’ve always been responsible for Lacey’s safety.” Winsome felt driven to explain, not wanting Quentin’s lady to think badly of her. “After losing Matthew, I’ve learned to be careful. Perhaps I’m over cautious.”

  “I don’t blame you. We have time for a quiet coffee. The men will be ages at the stables.” Catherine gave her a shrewd smile. “She’ll be safe. Quentin’s marvellous with kids. My brother’s kids are horse mad.”

  Her words were reassuring, and with a shrug she followed her hostess inside.

  “Have you got things settled?” Catherine bustled around pouring coffee.

  “More or less. It’s pretty spartan” Winsome spread her hands in an expressive gesture. “Gaelen stripped the place. She took everything. The carpets, curtains, the lot.”

  “She must really hate you.” Catherine’s earthy chuckle made her brown eyes sparkle. “She wasn’t too enchanted when I moved in here with Quentin. I’ll bet she gave you merry hell when you had to live in the same house.”

  “She destroyed our marriage.” Winsome shivered on the brutal words. She’d always known that Gaelen loathed her, resented her marriage to her favourite son, but with this last act she revealed a depth of hatred that was terrifying.

  Catherine set the coffee mugs on the table and Winsome sank down, picking hers up and warming her chilled hands on the hot mug.

  “Quentin thought Harvey’s banishment of Paige and Gaelen masterly.”

  “Without Quentin I wouldn’t have lasted as long as I did,” Winsome admitted, glancing up at her hostess. “He’s always been my friend.”

  “But surely Jared must have known.” Catherine shook her head, unable to believe that any man could not have known how unhappy his wife was.

 
“Gaelen is a very clever woman. I simply wasn’t good enough to marry her golden boy.” Winsome took a warming sip of coffee, raising bleak eyes. “We were married secretly and I met Gaelen five days later.”

  “Better you than me.” Catherine pulled a rueful grimace.

  “I’m relieved she’s gone.” Winsome swallowed hard on a surge of self-pity.

  Catherine didn’t know how fortunate she was that Quentin had the choice of living in another house. “I’ll bet you are.”

  “Did Quentin tell you he’s Lacey’s guardian?” Winsome asked diffidently. “There may be times I need to call on him. I wouldn’t want you to think there was anything else between us.”

  “He told me and I do understand.” Catherine paused, and then added quietly. “How are you and Jared getting on? Can anyone get close to him? Pardon me but he’s the coldest, most aloof person I’ve ever met.”

  “He never used to be.”

  Grief and heartache were one of the hardest burdens to shoulder and Jared found them as difficult as she did. Sipping her coffee, Winsome stared in brooding silence into its murky depths. Was it possible to repair the gossamer threads of the enchanted rapture they’d spun between them? Or had those threads been broken beyond repair.

  Catherine finished her coffee and then began preparing vegetables for dinner. Winsome helped her and as they worked, they explored areas of common interest.

  “It’s getting too cold for Lacey to be outside.” Winsome frowned at the darkening sky. “ will they be long?”

  Catherine bent her head, listening. “They’re coming now.”

  Winsome breathed a relieved sigh, not wanting to antagonise Jared any further. The outside door opened, bringing with it a rush of cold air. Lacey bounced inside, racing towards Winsome, excited and very dirty.

  “Uncle Quentin has a pony, Mummy.” Her grey eyes sparkled with excitement. “Daddy said I can take it back to Totara Park if you say I can. Can I Mummy, please?”

  Winsome looked at Jared above Lacey’s head, her eyes narrowed in a fierce glare.

  “No.” She hated the disappointment that clouded the child’s face. “Not until Uncle Quentin’s satisfied you can ride properly.”