“Oh, yes it will! Mother respects you more than anybody. If you really put your mind to it, you can sway her on just about anything.”
No, not everything . . .
“Thank you, Hadley.” Caitlyn’s voice drifted in from the foyer, and Logan’s pulse automatically skipped a beat, picking up pace as always when Caitlyn McClare entered a room. He squeezed Alli’s shoulder and stood, stomach looping when Cait paused in the parlour door. “Logan—what a nice surprise. What are you doing here?” Her gaze lighted on Alli, and her smile instantly dimmed as it darted back to him. “Is everything all right?” she asked, a flicker of concern in her beautiful green eyes.
“Relax, Cait, everything’s fine. I came by to collect the wallet I left in your billiard room last night when your boys fleeced me in a pool tournament. But Alli, you, and I do need to talk.”
“Uncle Logan!” Maddie shot past Cait, Cassie, and Meg to barrel into Logan’s waiting arms, swelling his chest with love for this family he adored. Why had he wasted all those years chasing other women when everything he wanted was right here? His eyes met Cait’s over Maddie’s riot of curls, and he wondered if she felt the spark he always did when their gazes converged. He forced himself to look away to deposit a kiss on Maddie’s nose before he set her back down. “How are my girls?”
“Jeepers, Uncle Logan, you should see my dress,” Maddie said with a giggle, holding her skirt out as she twirled in a circle. “Cassie says I look like a princess.”
“Indeed,” Cassie said with a tweak of Maddie’s neck. “As does Meg, who, I might add, is growing into a lovely young woman.”
“I’ll second that.” Logan’s response prompted a soft blush in Meg’s cheeks. The self-conscious duck of her head made him want to swoop her up like he had Maddie and tell her just how beautiful she really was, but he didn’t dare. At an extremely shy seventeen, Meg would only be embarrassed by any attempt to counter her mistaken belief that a full baby face and eyeglasses made her plain and plump. Not to mention the gold dental braces she wore that he’d talked Cait into, touted by a dentist friend as the latest miracle cure for crooked teeth. Cait had decided to send her middle daughter to Paris for her senior year, and Logan was grateful, hoping it would lift her self-esteem and spare further ridicule from cruel students at school. He gave Meg a wink. “You mark my words, Megan McClare, you are on your way to becoming a real beauty.” His gaze flitted to Cait’s and held. “Just like your mother.”
“Well, I certainly concur with Meggie becoming a beauty,” Caitlyn said with a self-conscious blush of her own. She gave Meg a tight squeeze, then pressed a soft kiss to her daughter’s pale red hair. “Would you be a dear and help Maddie get ready for bed, darling? I need to talk to Uncle Logan and your sister, but I’ll be up soon to kiss you both good night.”
“Sure, Mother,” Meg said with a kiss to Caitlyn’s cheek. She extended a hand to her little sister. “Come on, Maddie. You can snuggle with me till Mother comes up.”
The little girl gave a short little hop. “Really? And will you read to me from Jane Eyre like you did last week?”
“Sure, peanut.” Meg led her to the door, sending a tired smile over her shoulder as she stifled a yawn. “Good night, everyone.”
“G’night, Megs,” Cassie called along with the others. She ambled over to plop down alongside Allison on the sofa. “So . . . did you miss us? Jamie, Blake, and Bram surprised us by treating us to dinner at The Palace, so I bet you’re real sorry you didn’t go now, aren’t you?”
Allison’s gaze met Logan’s, and a lump bobbed in her throat despite the crooked smile that surfaced on her lips. “You have no idea,” she said with a playful bump of her cousin’s shoulder. She squeezed her hand. “But I was able to get a lot done, so I’m grateful.”
“Good.” Cassie leaned to give Allison a hug before lumbering up. “Well, I have some class preparations of my own waiting upstairs, so see you in the morning. Good night, all.” She hurried over to give Logan a hug and then her aunt before the click of her heels echoed across the marble foyer.
Caitlyn wasted no time. With a faint air of urgency, she immediately shut the double burlwood doors and hurried over to sit beside her daughter on the sofa, arm bracing Allison’s waist. “Something’s wrong, I can feel it,” she said with an uneasy glance in Logan’s direction. “What’s this all about?”
He released a quiet exhale and settled into his easy chair, the one he claimed when he came for dinner three times a week, which wasn’t near as often as he liked. He perched on the edge, arms straddling his legs and hands loosely clasped while he employed the same calm and confident demeanor he exercised in the courtroom. “I think it would be wise to hire an armed watchman until Mr. Bigley returns.”
Cait blinked, color effectively draining from her face. Her voice broke on a crack as she clasped Allison’s arm. “Why? What’s happened?”
Exchanging a quick glance with his niece, he softened his tone. “Cait, Allison is fine, but she did have a minor problem tonight that we need to make sure doesn’t happen again.”
Cait shifted to face her daughter, hand trembling as she touched Allison’s arm. “What kind of problem,” she said quietly, her tone almost casual in an obvious effort to remain calm.
“A minor incident, Mother, really,” Allison assured with a tentative smile, pulling her shawl tightly about her. “I lost track of time, you see, so it was after dusk when I . . . well, I . . .”
“Spit it out, Allison,” Cait said with an impatience seldom displayed. “When you what?”
Tendons shifted in Allison’s throat. “When I was stopped by . . .” Her voice trailed to a whisper while her face leeched as pale as her mother’s, as if the trauma was just now sinking in.
Rarely had Logan seen Cait more taut. “For sanity’s sake, Allison, tell me this instant!”
“She was approached by two men,” Logan supplied, his tone both gentle and firm. “On the street outside the school, but she managed to fend them off with a hat pin until Miss Penny chased them away.”
What color had been left in Caitlyn’s cheeks swiftly siphoned out as she stared, horror etched in her face. She clutched her daughter’s arms, panic edging her words. “Sweet mother of mercy, were you hurt or . . . or—”
“Nothing happened, Mother, I assure you, other than a few scrapes when I stumbled on the cobblestone street.”
“Good heavens, Allison, you ventured outside after dark?” Cait’s voice rose several octaves. “You know better than that! Why didn’t you wait for the taxi to ring the bell?”
“Because I . . .” Her eyes flitted to Logan’s and back before she lifted her chin the slightest degree. “I decided to take the cable car instead of a cab.”
“What?” Caitlyn shot to her feet, almost teetering as she splayed a hand to her chest.
Allison rose to grip her mother’s arms. “Mother, I’m almost twenty-three years old, for heaven’s sake, a certified educator with a mind of my own. I can take care of myself.”
“Apparently not if you wandered out in a dangerous neighborhood after dark.” Caitlyn’s fingers shook as they fluttered to the hollow of her throat. “Tell me what happened,” she rasped, slowly sinking back onto the sofa while Allison painted a picture of a near-harmless robbery attempt. By the time she finished, the look of horror in Cait’s eyes sparked into anger. “Merciful Providence, Allison, whatever possessed you to take such a risk?”
Logan cleared his throat. “I suspect the same thing that possessed you, Cait,” he said quietly, pinning her with a probing gaze, “when you opened a school on the Barbary Coast against my advice. An independent spirit and a stubborn streak longer than the cable car tracks that brought our girl home.” His smile was wry. “After all, she is your daughter, Mrs. McClare.”
A blush stained Caitlyn’s cheeks as she jutted her chin with the same obstinacy she’d obviously passed on to Alli. “Don’t be ridiculous, I’m an adult, charged by God to be the head of this family.”
Logan’s chest constricted when tears pooled in Cait’s eyes.
Seizing both the opportunity and her mother’s hands, Allison softened her appeal. “Mother, please—all I’m asking for is the freedom to become the woman you want me to be.”
Logan watched as the same iron strength of character he loved in Caitlyn slowly emerged in her daughter, back straight and shoulders square. “And the woman I need to be,” she said quietly, tears shimmering that matched those of her mother’s. “Especially now.”
———
Caitlyn’s heart fisted as she stared, seeing herself in the thrust of her daughter’s chin, the quiver of her lips . . . the pain in her eyes. Pain caused by betrayal and deception at the hand of a man she loved, and a pain Caitlyn knew all too well. She had been but seventeen when the fiancé she loved with all of her heart—Logan McClare—betrayed her with another woman and then she, too, had taken immediate action. Breaking the engagement, she had determined to become a teacher and fend for herself, unwilling to trust her heart to a man ever again. But her dearest friend at the time—Logan’s brother Liam—had altered the course of that decision, wooing her with kindness, friendship, and a gentle love that had deepened and ripened over twenty-six years of marriage. She closed her eyes as more tears welled, but these were for the father of her children and the godly spouse she’d lost to an aneurism almost three years ago. A keen sense of loss and loneliness suddenly overwhelmed her. Oh, Liam, I miss you every day . . .
“Mother, do you understand what I’m saying?” Allison said, and Caitlyn’s eyelids lifted, the blur of her daughter’s face coming into focus despite the tears in her eyes.
She forced a trembling smile, reaching to stroke the worry from Allison’s face. “More than you know, darling,” she whispered, well aware of Logan’s gaze and the regret she’d most likely find there if she dared to glance his way. “And I will respect your wishes, Alli, but only if we can come to terms on ways to keep you safe.”
Logan cleared his throat. “Allison has actually come up with some pretty creative ideas, Cait, and I have lunch planned with Captain Peel on Friday as well, so I planned to solicit his help in finding the temporary watchman you mentioned the other night. I think between an armed off-duty law official on the premises and Allison’s ideas, we can secure her safety.”
“Ideas?” Cait offered Allison a wary look. “What kind of ideas?”
Cheeks flushed with excitement, Allison jumped in before Logan could even respond. “Well, I suggested a firearm—”
“A firearm?” Caitlyn’s voice rose on a squeak.
“But I told her that was out of the question,” Logan said quickly.
Allison scooted to face Caitlyn, looking more like twelve than twenty-two as she tucked a leg beneath her skirt and tied her shawl in a loose knot at her chest. “Then I suggested an even larger stickpin that I could carry in my pocket or pin to a dress or coat. You know, Mother, like that decorative pin you gave me for my birthday with the lovely gold fleur-de-lis head? Goodness, the point on that is as big as a skewer and just as deadly.”
Caitlyn winced at the mental picture.
“Then remember the perfume atomizer bracelet Uncle Logan gave me for Christmas? Well, I promise to wear it at all times, warding off evil with a spray in any attacker’s eyes.”
Caitlyn blinked, stunned at her daughter’s shrewdness with gifts.
“But I’ve saved the best idea for last,” Allison continued with a grin that all but lit up her face. “Remember when Teddy Roosevelt’s secretary was telling us about how the president was learning a new art of self-defense called jiu-jitsu?”
Bracing herself, Caitlyn gave a slow nod.
“Well, I’ve done lots of research, and they say jiu-jitsu moves are so easy and concise that anyone can learn them and guess what?”
Caitlyn worked hard to maintain her serious demeanor, heart swelling with love for this vibrant little girl who was now a woman. “What?” she said, fighting a smile.
Allison all but preened. “Success with jiu-jitsu is not dependent upon size, strength, or speed, which makes it the perfect self-defense mode for both women and children.”
“Is that so?” Caitlyn allowed a hint of a smile, tone cautious. “So you can’t get hurt learning this jiu-jitsu? There’s no danger for the person taking lessons, I hope?”
“Absolutely not,” Allison said, green eyes sparkling more than Caitlyn had seen in a long, long while. She wiggled her brows. “Only for the poor scoundrel who raises my ire.”
Caitlyn’s mouth crooked up. “I’d say that’s three-quarters of the male population these days, darling.” She sucked in a deep draw of air and expelled it again. “Well, it sounds like we need to find someone to teach you jiu-jitsu then, doesn’t it?”
Her daughter’s squeal nearly broke her eardrum when she thrust herself into Caitlyn’s arms. “Oh, Mother, I love you so much!”
“But—” Caitlyn held Allison at bay—“I want your promise you will never walk to the cable car alone or even step foot on the streets in that neighborhood after dusk, is that clear?”
Allison gave an eager nod.
“And if for some reason you do need to work late, you will let me know and we’ll arrange with Mr. Bigley or his replacement to escort you, understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Allison said, hands clasped to her chin and a squeal imminent, no doubt.
“Well, then I guess it’s settled. Let’s go to bed.” Giving her daughter a hug, Caitlyn rose and sighed, glancing at Logan with a slant of a smile. “And since you helped with the arm twisting, Mr. McClare,” she said with a pointed gaze, “I think it’s only fitting you round up an instructor who can teach this determined young woman the art of self-defense.”
Logan laughed, the husky sound following them to the door. “Me? Twist your arm?” The tease in his tone chided her into turning around. “I’d say it’s the other way around most of the time, Cait, and I’ve got the bruises to prove it.”
Better a bruised arm than a bruised heart. She hiked her chin, answering his teasing tone with one of her own. “Be that as it may, I’ll expect information on both a temporary guard and a jiu-jitsu instructor soon or I just may enlist Rosie to inflict a bruise or two.”
“Ouch.” Logan grinned before he reached for his fedora and made his way to the foyer. He pressed a kiss to Alli’s cheek as his eyes converged with Caitlyn’s. “Threat heeded, Mrs. McClare,” he said with a formal bow of his head, humor still twitching on his lips. Strolling to the front door, he shot them a smile while he placed his hand on the knob. “I’ll start the hunt tomorrow and hopefully have everything arranged by next week. So you can keep your bull terrier on a chain, Cait. Good night, ladies.”
“Good night, Uncle Logan,” Allison called, “and thank you for your help.”
Caitlyn’s heart tripped at the look of love in Logan’s face as he watched his niece head up the steps. “For my girls? Always.” His gaze veered to Caitlyn and held, annoying her when it fluttered her stomach. “And I’ll see you tomorrow night.” Giving a salute, he opened the door.
“Logan!” Her cheeks warmed when her voice echoed in the marble foyer. “Do you . . . do you think the lessons will work?” she asked, looking for reassurance of Alli’s safety.
His lazy grin sped up her pulse instead of calming it down. “Mark my words, before we’re through, she’ll be able to protect herself from any man alive.”
Any man alive. Caitlyn swallowed hard and nodded. “Good,” she said with a shaky smile, his handsome face lingering in her thoughts long after he closed the door. Then perhaps I should take lessons as well . . .
9
Okay, that’s it—too rich for my blood. I need to go home and put my humility to bed.” Tossing several dollars on the brass-plated pool table in
the billiard room of Caitlyn McClare’s home, Bram Hughes replaced his cue stick in the rack while giving Jamie a wry smile. “Good thing you’re marrying a pool shark like yourself, Mac. Somebody who can hustle you, or you wouldn’t get your head through that door.”
Jamie grinned, grateful he could demoralize Bram, Blake, and Logan in pool to make up for the loss of pride when Cassie trounced him on a regular basis in a game in which they both excelled. “Yeah, humility’s not too bad as long as you can maintain your pride with your friends, I always say.” He chalked his cue with a broad smile, gaze honing in on Blake. “You’re next, McClare—payback for beating me in chess the other day.”
“Oh, no you don’t, MacKenna—I may be lousy at pool, but I’m not stupid.” Blake hopped off one of the leather and chrome bar stools he and Logan had dragged over to watch the game. “I’d rather give my money to Duffy at the Blue Moon than line your pockets with a sure win.” Lugging his stool back over to the bar, he snatched his suit coat off the counter and slipped it on. “Anybody up for a nightcap? I’m buying.”
“Count me in.” Bram buttoned his jacket. “I think I’ll nurse my pride with a tall ginger ale.”
Blake adjusted the sleeves of his coat with a wicked grin. “Nurse it? You mean kill it, don’t you, Padre? What you need is a tall, stiff one, my friend. How ’bout you, Uncle Logan—care to join us?”
Logan slid from his stool and began rolling the sleeves of his crisp, white shirt—as casual as he ever got when playing pool with the boys, his perfect four-in-hand tie still in place. “Sorry, Blake—I think I’ll take a shot at the hustler tonight. Not because I’m in the mood for a thrashing, mind you, but because I want to pick his brain about something.”
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