Olivia rushed to Drew’s defense. “I’ve already explained everything.”
Ramon Morales rose to leave. “I cared about your father. But I cannot work for Drew.”
Faced with the man’s obvious determination, Olivia said, “You’ll still be working for me. I’m asking you to manage the farm. How about giving this some time?”
Ramon looked doubtful. “A trial period?”
She nodded. “If that’s the way you want to look at it.”
“What about him?” He nodded in Drew’s direction.
“Drew’s going to be too busy reopening the sawmill to get involved with the day-to-day management of the farm. I’ll still need you, Ramon. You and your family have made a home here. I hope you will stay,” she said with open sincerity.
Ramon sighed. “I will think about it.”
She turned toward the older man. “And you, Fred. Stone’s End wouldn’t be the same without you.”
Drew smiled grimly. So much for being partners. After getting everything she wanted, Olivia was dividing up the spoils.
Fred and Ramon regarded him with open hostility. Drew was suddenly afraid. He was going to lose Olivia. His hold over her was so fragile, so new. How could it survive all the censure and disapproval? They were bound to encounter more from her family.
To his surprise, Olivia moved to stand by his side. Perhaps she felt the same threat. Did that mean their marriage mattered to her? Or was this still about the farm? He understood her desperation, her need to feel connected to a place, a person.
He knew love had eluded Olivia all her life. She clearly felt threatened by strong emotions. And more than anyone, he knew the lengths to which she’d gone to keep Stone’s End.
Acquiring a husband represented nothing more to her than the means to an end. How long would it take for her to regret their bargain?
“Drew and I are married,” she said, surprising Drew with the firm tone. “I hope you can both accept that.”
Ramon looked doubtful. Nevertheless, he said, “Sí, I will try.”
Fred set his hat on his head. “Well, Ira must be rolling over in his grave. That’s all I have to say!”
Drew felt Olivia stiffen under the harsh words. He placed a protective hand on her shoulder. “Now wait a minute!”
Small and slight, Olivia leaned against Drew. “Ira set up the conditions. He didn’t leave me much choice. Lucky for me, Drew came along.”
“No use arguing over spilt milk,” Fred grumbled. “This isn’t getting us anywhere. We’ve got work to do. But just wait until Jared gets wind of this!”
On that note, both men marched out.
Olivia winced at the sound of the back door slamming.
She turned to encounter Drew’s somber expression. Dealing with three irritated males was getting to be a trial of nerves. Despite the opposition, she was still convinced she’d made the right decision. Marrying Drew might be hasty, but it felt right, and she didn’t care whether people approved or not.
Drew accused her softly, “You never told Jared.”
Faced with his accusation, she swept her hair back from her brow. “I know. I just didn’t have time to call him. Everything’s been so rushed.”
They both knew she was only making excuses.
She whispered, “Please don’t be angry.”
Drew released a long breath. “I’m not. Look, we knew this would happen. There’s bound to be disapproval from all directions. Are you up to facing it?”
Olivia wasn’t sure what problems he anticipated or why it should trouble him so deeply. “Yes, if you are.”
“Then we’ll get through it,” Drew said, sounding confident. “All packed?”
“Yes, I just have to change. I won’t be long.” She was caught in a whirlwind, with no time to think—which was probably just as well. Logic might have brought sanity.
They drove to Bangor, where they checked into a Victorian inn. Drew had made the reservations. He’d never revealed a traditional side until now, which only emphasized how little Olivia actually knew about him.
Reminding herself that their relationship was strictly business, she tried to ignore the way the hotel clerk flirted openly with Drew. So much for remaining detached. This was no time to feel possessive. Hadn’t she insisted on a practical, impersonal arrangement?
Drew handed her a key to her room. “You’ve got a room with a view of the river.”
Her room.
“Lovely.” She clutched the key. It felt cold and hard in her hand. They climbed the stairs to the second floor. Her room was three doors down on the left. His was the fourth. Was that a coincidence, or had Drew requested connecting rooms?
While she pondered that, Drew said, “Shall we meet for dinner? In the lobby around seven?”
“That sounds fine,” Olivia agreed.
The room was a pleasant surprise. A charming arrangement of cherry antique furnishings, mixed with white wicker, gave it a timeless quality, a reminder of simpler, gentler times. In muted shades of lavender, blue and rose, the bed coverlet and canopy evoked images of elegant botanical gardens.
Olivia dropped her small suitcase, kicked off her shoes, then collapsed on the bed. She stared up at the flowered canopy, then closed her eyes. All she saw was Drew’s face.
They were married. She should be pleased about that; but since her proposal, their relationship had changed. The magic was gone. Now there was uneasiness. He was polite—too polite. A cool detachment had replaced the warmth in his eyes. Drew probably thought she was mercenary, placing financial considerations above emotional ones. But when had her emotions ever served her well?
With a sigh, she rose. She was exhausted, yet too tense to relax. She’d feel better after a shower.
Unpacking her suitcase didn’t take long. Since they only planned to stay a couple of days, she hadn’t brought much—nightwear, something casual and, last, a special dress for dinner that evening. Suddenly she wished she’d packed something other than her favorite little black dress—“little” being the operative word. Too late now. Ignoring all the warning bells, she pulled the dress over her head.
The black silk made her feel feminine. And heaven knew, she needed every bit of confidence she could manufacture for the evening ahead!
At seven, Olivia went down to the lobby.
She didn’t see Drew at first, then located him standing with his back to the room, staring out a tall window framed in velvet drapes. He looked tense. And alone.
Olivia paused.
She recognized loneliness.
Something deep inside her hurt at the realization that Drew had lost everything he held dear in life. Nearly everyone had turned against him, abandoning him to his fate.
Earlier today she’d witnessed the hostility he faced. He’d dealt with Fred and Ramon without a display of temper. He’d lost so much, yet she’d never heard him cast blame for his mistakes on anyone but himself. That took a certain courage and the will to make repairs. She wished she could help; she wished their relationship hadn’t gotten so complicated.
As if he felt her presence, he turned and saw her. He didn’t smile. His eyes slowly drifted over her dress, down the black silk stockings to her feet, clad in dressy black pumps.
By slow, aching degrees, her body came alive. The thin black silk of her dress felt heavy against her skin. Drawn by some intuitive force, too new and foreign to identify, she met his glance and couldn’t look away. When a look of satisfaction lit his eyes, she took a deep breath and walked toward him.
She reached him and stopped, aware of an unexplained tension. Yet she didn’t feel threatened. A tall window overlooked the city.
His eyes on her gleamed with masculine appreciation. “You look lovely.”
Although the words were mild, his gaze made her flush. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting.”
“I was just enjoying the view,” he said, confusing her when he filled her in on some of the local history—until she realized they were playing a
game of courtship.
“Did you know that three to four hundred years ago, millions of acres of virgin pine and spruce were logged out by a few big companies?”
She smiled. Although impersonal, the conversation made her even more aware of him. Noting the huge boulders and turbulent water of the river she could see through the window, she said, “The river doesn’t look tame.”
“It isn’t. The rivers in Maine were used to drive cut logs down to the bay. They called it white-water logging.”
Oddly captivated, Olivia turned away from the window, toward Drew. “Where does your family fit into all this?”
“They came up the hard way. My great-grandfather worked as a camp foreman, while his wife cooked for the crew. Somehow, they managed to save enough money to open a sawmill in Henderson.”
Absorbing his words, she realized the sawmill meant a great deal to him—perhaps as much as Stone’s End meant to her. The knowledge made her feel connected to Drew. Strange how she could feel so drawn to someone she’d known for such a short time.
But perhaps time could be measured in terms of intensity rather than days or weeks.
Instead of voicing that new and very personal insight, she said, “So all this is in your blood.”
He looked out the window, before turning back to her. “Yes, I guess it is. I never gave it much thought.”
“Is that why you want to reopen the sawmill?”
“That, and the fact that someone needs to do it.” As if she’d touched a raw nerve, he abruptly cut off the topic. “Shall we get a table?”
The dining room wasn’t crowded. The atmosphere was Old World, elegant, unobtrusive. A string quartet played discreetly in the background. A waiter arrived almost immediately to take their orders.
Drew waited patiently while she made up her mind. After some consideration, Olivia set the menu aside. “I’ll have the stuffed capon.”
“And I’ll have the prime rib.”
“Yes, sir.” The waiter took their menus.
Drew didn’t need to look at the wine list. “And a bottle of champagne.”
Once it was served, he poured two glasses, then handed her one. “I believe this calls for a celebration.”
Olivia lifted her glass. “A toast.”
With a taunting smile that could have meant anything, he raised his glass. A reflection of candlelight flickered in his dark eyes. “To us.”
One sip of champagne made Olivia feel light-headed—or maybe that was her response to Drew’s smile. Suddenly she wanted to know more about this man who had so captured her imagination—if not her heart. “Have you ever been in love?”
He set his glass down without tasting the contents. “Isn’t it a little late for this sort of inquisition?”
“You don’t need to answer. I’m just curious.”
“Hasn’t everyone been in love at least once or twice?” he said, not really answering her question. “How about you?”
“So far, I’ve managed to escape.” She smiled, aware that she’d made love and romance sound like a communicable disease. Her mother’s experience had immunized Olivia for life. She was surprised when he responded.
“All right,” he said. “Let’s get this over with. What do you want to know?”
Olivia shrugged, trying to sound casual. “I just wondered, what if you were to fall in love? How would that affect us?”
Only half-humorous, his smile concealed more than it revealed. “That’s a nonissue.”
Olivia hung on to her own smile. “Maybe not now. But what about tomorrow, next week? How do you know you won’t meet someone? Hasn’t there ever been anyone special?”
He leaned back, admitting, “At eighteen, I fell head over heels for someone. I was sure I had all the answers.”
Her heart skipped a beat.
“What happened?” Did she really want to know?
He shrugged. “We split up.” He made it sound so simple.
However, Olivia suspected there was more. “You mentioned dating Rachel’s twin sister. Was she the one?”
His mouth went taut. “Yes, she was.”
Olivia stared down at her plate for a long moment before venturing further. She glanced up and found him watching her intently. “Her name was Laurel?” She had to know. “And her son is Jared’s son— Dylan.”
“Yes,” he said, confirming the bare facts. “Look, it’s an old story. Laurel died many years ago. Rachel took over raising Dylan. Now, Rachel and Jared are married. I haven’t heard from Rachel in years. End of story.”
Despite his cool detachment, Olivia suspected there was much more. She felt a surge of emotion. “I’m so sorry.”
He looked surprised. “Why should you be sorry?”
“Because you were eighteen and you loved her, and the whole affair must have hurt terribly.”
He released a breath. “I was more furious than hurt.”
She lifted her glass to her lips. “Mmm.”
Apparently unwilling to admit a weakness, he glared at her for a long moment. Finally he laughed humorously. “All right, I was hurt. Satisfied?”
“Only if you got over her.” She paused, holding her breath when she asked, “Did you?”
Drew searched his heart. “Yes,” he admitted after a long moment. “Now are you satisfied?”
She smiled, her eyes soft and warm. “Yes.”
Like a starved man, Drew absorbed that smile. It reached deep inside where no one had ever seen the pain associated with Laurel’s betrayal. Olivia touched him as no one ever had. Her mention of Laurel had exposed a raw nerve, but it also forced him to examine the past and let it go.
The waiter served their meals. Over dinner, conversation drifted into less-sensitive areas, for which Drew was grateful.
But at length, he decided it was best to clear up a few more items. “I’m glad you mentioned Laurel. It points out that we are going to have problems convincing Jared and the rest of your family to accept this situation.”
“Jared’s entitled to an opinion, but I’ve been making my own decisions since I was seventeen. I don’t need his approval.”
Drew wanted to believe her. “While we’re on the subject of family, are Rachel and Jared happy?”
“Yes, they’re very much in love. They have four-year-old twin boys and a new baby girl. She’s almost a year old.”
“And Dylan?”
“He’s terrific.”
Drew smiled. “I’m glad. Rachel deserves to be happy. So does Dylan. He was always a good kid.”
“Since you grew up together, you must know Jessie. She and Ben have a new baby girl, as well. Ira complained that he only had grandsons, so Rachel and Jessie each provided him with one granddaughter apiece. They were born within a few months of each other, less than a year before he died.”
His smiled had disappeared. “And Ira was pleased?”
“Absolutely delighted. Everyone was.”
Drew suspected her family wouldn’t be nearly as enthusiastic about Olivia’s choice of a groom, which worried him more than he cared to admit. Through thick and thin, the Carlisles stuck together.
Olivia might be a late addition to the family, but she’d already proved herself to be as single-minded as any family member when it came to preserving her heritage.
Chapter Nine
If Olivia had to make a choice between her loyalty to her husband or to her family, Drew wondered which she would choose.
The atmosphere in the dining room was romantic, ideal for a honeymoon. All the ingredients were there—a man and a woman. Champagne. A candlelit dinner. China, crystal and polished silver gleamed against damask tablecloths. All around, people conversed, laughed. Soft music played. It was discreet and low-key. It didn’t intrude.
But suddenly Drew felt a million miles from Olivia.
She had his name on a marriage certificate.
What more did she need? What more did she want?
She’d given no hint of what she expected from this marriage,
if one could call it that. Each time he touched her, he’d felt her response, but he’d made all the moves. So the question remained—what did Olivia want?
What would she give?
Would Drew be out in the cold in six months or less when she realized their marriage wasn’t worth fighting all the disapproval they were bound to get? Did his getting a fresh start include Olivia? Or was this just a temporary fix?
Preferring to avoid that line of thought, Drew said, “We’ve discussed our families. Let’s talk about us.”
Her eyes widened. Self-consciously she pushed a lock of hair behind her ear to reveal a small gold hoop. She wore no other jewelry, he noted—except for the gold band on her left hand. All evening, he’d watched her twist it—as if it felt new and awkward on her finger.
“What about us?” she asked finally.
“We’ve got the legalities out of the way. That calls for some decisions, don’t you think?”
At his determined tone, she sighed. “I don’t see why things can’t go on the way they are.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a little naive?”
She smiled. “How about practical?”
He chuckled, enjoying the banter. “How about dessert?”
She breathed a visible sigh of relief.
Drew knew she was just playing for time, trying to prolong the evening and delay a decision about which room they were going to use—his or hers, or both.
The waiter brought an array of desserts.
“What do you suggest?” she asked.
“The white-grape tarts with a zinfandel sauce are a specialty of the house. The apricot-vanilla silk pie is also a favorite.” There were more.
With the waiter’s help, Olivia pondered over each one, then finally narrowed it down to a chocolate Victoria tart or a lily-of-the-valley white cake, so Drew ordered one and she ordered the other. “We’ll share,” he said.
There it was again—that word.
Sharing.
Marriage was about splitting everything down the middle, then making it whole.
When dessert arrived, Olivia finished every bite, confusing Drew even more. If she wasn’t delaying, what was she doing? Or was he reading too much into the situation? But one thing was clear—bed wasn’t on her mind. Just his.
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