by Cindy Gerard
She stopped, drew a deep breath, then snuggled into the warmth he offered.
“It was like he was pushing me to see how much control he actually had. The old ‘jump when I say jump and ask how high on the way up,’ trick. And I let it happen. By the time I wised up, it was too late. He’d lost his respect for me, and I’d lost my respect for myself. Everything deteriorated from that point on.”
She paused and drew a deep breath before continuing. “When I walked out, he was so stunned that I’d found a backbone again, and so used to having the final word, he refused to grant the divorce.”
“What finally convinced him?”
“I did. Me and my newfound sense of self. The mouse became the shrew, and he didn’t much care for me that way.”
“Good strategy,” he said, giving her a quick hug.
“It wasn’t strategy. It was me at the end of my rope. And believe me, I was not a nice person right then. But I was stronger. And it was the strength that got me through it—and back to the person I wanted to be.”
“Independent. Self-reliant.”
“Yes. It was hard, but I did it. And then you came along. You and your sexy eyes and sultry smile and your charm and your money and your power—”
“And you saw the reel running all over again.”
She nodded against his chest. “Yeah.”
“So what did I do? I start throwing my money around, taking things out of your hands. All the savvy of a rhino.”
She smiled at the self-disgust in his voice. “And all the charm of a—”
“Televangelist?” he prompted.
This time she chuckled. “All the charm of the most desirable, the most magnetic, the most selfless lover a woman could ever want.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “I was coming back, you know. If you hadn’t shown up here, I was coming back. To make amends. To make you see I never wanted to control you.”
“I finally figured that out,” she whispered against his chest. “If I hadn’t been so crazy in love with you and so certain it couldn’t work out, I would have realized sooner.”
“Realized what?”
“What motivated you,” she said without hesitation. “I finally realized you weren’t motivated by any need other than to see to mine. I finally realized,” she continued, easing up on an elbow so she could look down into his eyes, “that what you did, you did because you loved me, because you cared about me, and you were trying to find a way for us to be together, instead of positioning yourself for control.”
“I do love you,” he murmured, drawing her down to his chest. “But since you mentioned position, let’s talk about it.” He smiled into her eyes and moved his hips suggestively against hers. “And control,” which was suddenly hers when she matched his actions with her hips. “Lord. Do you have any idea the kind of control you have over me?”
“I don’t want to control you.” She opened her legs at his urging and eased down over his heat. “I want to love you. And love you,” she murmured, her breath mingling with his as he penetrated, slow, and hot, and deep.
Epilogue
“Scarlett. are you up here?”
When she didn’t answer, Colin poked his head through the hotel’s attic door and looked inside.
Filtered sunshine poured in through the dormer window, sending dust motes dancing in beams of slanted light.
“Scarlett,” he called her name again and, ducking a cobweb, walked into the room.
“Over here.”
He followed the sound of her voice, curious as to the pensiveness of her tone. “Maggie said you were up here.” He dropped down on his haunches beside her, where she knelt on the floor, the musty contents of an old trunk spread out around her. “What are you doing?”
“It’s hers,” she said, holding a fragile length of red silk in her hands.
“Hers?”
“Belinda’s. Look.” She rose to her feet taking the silk with her, then holding it out for him to see. “It’s her red dress.”
They’d been back at the hotel for three weeks, and he’d long since stopped fighting both Scarlett’s and Casey’s convictions about Belinda.
He told himself it was because he was humoring them, but there were times—like now—when he came close to feeling what he suspected the ladies in his life felt. A presence. A purpose. A sense of restless need.
He touched the dress’s flowing hem with his fingertips. “Why are you so sure it’s hers?”
“This.” She reached into the trunk and carefully pulled out a picture. After studying it for a moment, she handed it to him.
It was an old tintype of a woman. A beautiful, voluptuous woman wearing a flowing silk gown. The same gown Scarlett held with such awe in her hands.
“Turn it over. Read what’s written on the back.”
“‘Belinda Jackson,”’ he read aloud. “‘1909.’” He looked from the picture to the dress, before he met her eyes. “Not much of a legacy, is it?”
She smiled sadly. “She made her own legacy. Maybe we now can put it to rest.”
When they came downstairs, the kitchen was a beehive of activity. Maggie and Mackenzie were busy baking the wedding cake. J.D. and Abel were good-naturedly sputtering that they’d never factored “florist” into their résumés as they hung garlands of flowers from the cornices above the dining room windows.
Casey and Mark were down by the lake giving Hershey and Nashata and the puppies baths for the special occasion. Geezer, ever his ebullient self, sat in a rocker on the verandah, regaling both Colin’s and Scarlett’s parents with tales of the lake, stories about the hotel and the fact that he’d pegged Colin as a worthy match for Scarlett first off.
Cameron met them at the bottom of the stairs. Yesterday, he’d helped Colin set up his office—complete with fax, phone, modem and assorted other technological marvels that would assist him in running Slater Corporation from the hotel when he and Scarlett were in residence. After being gone from the place for almost a month, and realizing how much he’d grown to appreciate the serenity, Colin already knew they’d spend more time here than he’d anticipated. Still he looked forward to sharing New York with Scarlett and Casey.
“Hey you two,” Cameron said with an amused grin, “we thought you’d decided to start the honeymoon a little early. Where’ve you been?”
“A gentleman wouldn’t ask,” Colin advised him, tucking Scarlett under his arm.
“Just like a gentleman wouldn’t tell,” Scarlett added, leaning into his embrace.
“I like your friends,” Cameron said, as they walked into the dining room where J.D. was singing “Blue Moon” and Abel was stoically tolerating it.
“I’d like to say J.D.’s not usually so—”
“Obnoxious?” Colin supplied deadpan.
“Well, there is that,” Scarlett said with a grin, to which J.D. strongly objected from his perch on a ladder. “I was going to say lyrical. But ever since he found out—”
“Ever since I found out I’m going to be a daddy,” J.D. crowed with a grin of pure, pompous pride that changed to one of stunning love and affection when Maggie walked into the room, “I just can’t stop singing,” he finished, and burst into “Maybe Baby.”
“I’m afraid this child is going to be born tone deaf.” A radiant Maggie gave her husband an indulgent look that told everyone in the room J.D. could mutilate “Rock-a-bye Baby,” and he’d still sound like Sinatra to her ears.
“You,” Abel barked, climbing down from the other ladder to relieve a very pregnant Mackenzie of a full grocery sack as she waddled into the room. “Will you use a little sense?”
“Will you relax, Daddy?” Mackenzie shook her head at Abel’s proprietary attention. “There’s nothing in the sack but table napkins.”
“See what you have to look forward to, Scarlett?” Maggie and Mackenzie asked in unison, then hooked pinkies with a giggle to seal their parallel thoughts.
“Is there something you haven’t told us, dear?”
“No, ma’am,” Colin said when he realized Scarlett was too stunned to respond. “Our friends are anticipating, that’s all. And that’s how rumors get started.” He sent an admonishing grin to the culprits, before reassuring Scarlett’s mother. “If and when we decide to add to the family, you’ll be the first to know.”
“And we will discuss it,” Scarlett said, stalling a smile. “Especially if I’m going to have to put up with solicitation and songs for nine months.”
“No way,” Colin assured her with a look that said he’d never act as foolishly as J.D. and Abel—who promptly exchanged “We’ll see” grins.
“But I hope you realize, baby or no baby, I plan on spoiling you and Casey rotten.”
“I think I can deal with that,” Scarlett said, after pretending to consider.
“Good.” He pulled an envelope out of his shirt pocket. “Then you can start by dealing with this.”
She looked from him to the envelope with expectant curiosity.
“A gift for my bride.”
Her eyes telling him she would love it, whatever was inside, she opened the envelope and drew out the paper.
“Oh.” Her hands began to shake when she realized what she held. “Oh, my. It...it’s...” Her eyes glittered with tears of stunned disbelief.
“It’s the deed to Iverson’s land,” Colin finished for her. “Crimson Falls is yours now, Scarlett. You don’t have to worry about anyone tearing up the forest or building anywhere near it ever again.”
“How?” was all she managed as she clutched the precious deed to her breast.
He shrugged, caressing her face with his gaze. “Let’s just say I made Iverson a better offer than Dreamscape.”
“But I thought they’d sealed the deal as soon as the council gave approval for the project.”
“Well, they thought it was going to happen that way, too. I guess I was more persuasive.”
Tears still brimming in her eyes, she moved into his arms. “I’ve noticed that about you.” Then to the delight of everyone in the room, she showed him with her kiss exactly how much she loved him.
She came to him in silk. Belinda’s silk. Shimmery red. Slipping softly off her shoulders. Parting slightly to show a smooth length of tanned leg. The flowers she carried matched the ones in her hair. Only the scent of her skin rivaled their fragrance.
She became his bride by the Crimson Falls she treasured.
With the moon holding council to the gathering of family and friends, and the northern lights dancing across the night sky in breathtaking rainbow hues, she pledged her love, for life, and he pledged his life forever.
And when everyone else had called it a night, he carried her up the stairs to Belinda’s room—where the shadows had ceased to dance on the walls, and the oil lamp no longer burned on the table by the window.
ISBN : 978-1-4592-7164-7
A BRIDE FOR CRIMSON FALLS
Copyright © 1997 by Cindy Gerard
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