by Nora Roberts
had to hold back a nervous giggle. “My mind was wandering, that’s all.” Was it ever. “And you startled me. That’s all.”
It wasn’t like her to keep repeating herself, and his gaze narrowed. “Are you sure you’re all right?”
“Yes, yes. Fine. Just fine.” She scrambled to her feet, still twisting the rag. “The couple who are staying here went out to tour the battlefield. They’re going to stay another night. They’re from North Carolina. He’s a battlefield junkie. That’s what he said. I gave them all the pamphlets, and…and a tour of the house. They wanted to see all of it. They’re excited about the idea of ghosts.”
Puzzled, he nodded. She was babbling like a brook, when he usually had to coax to get three sentences in a row out of her. “Okay.”
“Do you want some coffee? I’ll get you some coffee,” she said, and started to bolt before he could answer. “And brownies. I made brownies this morning, and—” When he put a hand on her arm to stop her, she froze like a doe caught in headlights.
“Cassandra, relax.”
“I am relaxed. I’m relaxed.” His hand was firm, warm. She thought she could feel the texture of it through her skin, all the way to the bone.
“You’re about to jump out of your shoes. Take a deep breath. Take a couple of them.”
Obediently, she did, and felt some of the nerves settle. “I’m fine, Devin.”
“Okay, we’ll have some coffee.” But even as he started to lead her out, his beeper went off. “Damn it.” He strode to the candlestick phone on the gateleg to call in. “MacKade. Yes, Donnie.”
Devin pressed his fingers against his eyes. Where had the headache come from, and why the hell was Cassie staring at him as if he’d grown two pounding heads?
“I’m on a call now, Donnie. Handle it. That’s what I said. Look, put the damn poodle in lockup, along with those idiot women, if you have to, but—” He broke off, cursed himself, knowing Donnie would do exactly that.
“Abort that. Be diplomatic, Donnie, and do your job. You’re going to have to fine the poodle lady, but do it privately and professionally. Suggest a fence. Remind her that the leash law is there for her pup’s safety, as well as the public’s. There’s traffic on that street, and her little dog could get himself squashed. When you’ve handled that, you go over to the complainant, tell her it’s been dealt with, and compliment her on her flowers. Suggest a fence. You know, how good fences make good neighbors. No, I didn’t make that up. Go away, Donnie.”
He hung up and turned to see Cassie smiling at him. “A small dog problem,” he explained.
“You’re so good at that, and knowing how to handle people and put things right.”
“I’m a regular Solomon.” He blew out a breath. “Sit down, Cassie. I need to talk to you.”
“Oh.” Her smile faded. “Something’s wrong.”
“Not necessarily. Come on, let’s sit down.” Because he wanted to be able to hold her hand when he told her, he chose the curvy settee that always made him feel like a clumsy giant. “I’m going to tell you first that there’s nothing to worry about. That I don’t want you to worry.”
“It’s about Joe.” Her hand trembled once in his, then went still. “They let him out.”
“No.” He squeezed her hand gently, reassuringly, and kept his eyes steady on hers. “He’s not going to be out of jail for a long time.”
“He wants to see the children.” She went dead pale, her eyes huge and dark and terrified. “Oh, God, Devin, the children.”
“No.” He cursed himself, knowing he was only making it worse by trying to cushion the blow. “It’s nothing like that. It’s the work release program. You know what that is.”
“Yes, they let the prisoners out for a few hours to do jobs, community service. Oh.” A single shudder escaped before she closed her eyes. “That’s it.”
“He’s working on a road crew. Trash and litter pickup. That sort of thing. I wanted you to know, and not worry. I’ve arranged to be informed of his schedule. I’ll know exactly where he is, and so will you. I don’t want you driving by one day and seeing him on the side of the road and getting scared.”
“All right.” The fear was there, but she could handle it. She’d handled worse. “He’s supervised.”
“That’s right.” He wasn’t going to bring up how often they misplaced a prisoner. She’d know it already. “I’m going to drive by, or have one of the men drive by, wherever he’s working, a couple of times a day. And, because I want you to feel secure about this, we’ll do drive-bys here, too.”
And at the school, he thought, but he didn’t want to bring up the kids again.
“He’s still in prison,” she said, to reassure herself. “There are guards.”
“That’s right. Jared’s working on a protest, but I should tell you— Damn it.” He let out another breath. “Your mother’s for it, and she’s been writing to the warden.”
“I knew that.” Cassie squared her shoulders. “She and Joe are writing each other. She’s showed me his letters. It doesn’t make any difference, Devin. I’m never going back to that. I’m never letting my children go back to that. We’ll be all right.”
“You’ll be fine.” He was going to see to it. He tucked a stray curl behind her ear, relieved that she didn’t jolt. “I’m sorry I scared you.”
“You didn’t. Not really.”
“Any time, Cassie, day or night, that you feel uncomfortable or uneasy, I want you to call me. You know I spend most nights at the office. I can be here in five minutes if you need me.”
“I never feel uncomfortable or uneasy here. I’m hardly ever alone.” When he lifted a brow, she smiled. “Can’t you smell them?”
“The roses? Yeah.” Now he smiled. “Still, I’m usually better company than a ghost. You call me.”
“All right.” She had to draw together all her courage. A point had to be proved. He was her friend, always had been. She had to stop being a trembling little mouse. “Thank you.” She made herself smile, then laid a hand on his cheek, and touched her lips to his.
He barely tasted her, but the explosion ripped through his system like napalm. It was so unexpected, so long desired. He didn’t realize his hand had tightened like a vise on her fingers, making her eyes go wide with shock. All he knew was that her lips had been on his, just for an instant.
And he couldn’t stand it.
He dragged her against him, and captured that taste again, devoured it, steeped himself in it. Warm, sweet. The shape of her mouth, that deep dip, drove him crazy. He crushed it under his, traced it with a frantic tongue, then dived deep to plunder.
His heart was thundering, wild surf against jagged rocks. His blood was racing, making his head buzz. She was everything soft and small and sweet, everything he craved, everything he cherished.
It took him several desperate moments to realize her hands were trapped between them. And she was rigid in his arms. Stunned, he let her go and leaped up in one frenzied motion.
And she stared at him, eyes dark as rain clouds, one hand lifted to lie against the mouth he’d just savaged.
That was the word for it, he thought, disgusted. Savaged.
“I’m sorry.” He was as pale now as she was flushed, and cursing himself viciously. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I’m…sorry. I didn’t mean to— You caught me off guard.” There was no excuse, he reminded himself, and his punishment for breaking her trust would be the losing of it. “That was way out of line, and it won’t happen again. I don’t know what I was thinking of. I have to go.”
“Devin—”
“I have to go,” he repeated, almost desperately, as he backed up. He nearly tripped over a table, decided that would have capped things off nicely. Because she hadn’t moved an inch, he was able to escape without further humiliating himself.
She listened to the door slamming behind him. No, she hadn’t moved, because she couldn’t. She didn’t think it would be wise to try to stand just yet.
&nbs
p; What had just happened here? she asked herself. She had kissed him, thinking it was time she was able to make that friendly gesture.
Rafe kissed her all the time. When he came by the inn for something, he often kissed her, just the way she’d tried to kiss Devin. Lightly, casually. And after a while, she’d gotten used to it, and she no longer stiffened up.
Then Devin had kissed her. But he didn’t kiss like Rafe at all. No, not at all. She still had her fingers against her lips, and could still feel the heat there. No, she’d never been kissed like that before, by anyone. As if the man’s life had depended on it. She’d never imagined Devin…
Oh, but she had, she remembered, letting her unsteady hand fall into her lap. She had imagined, just the night before. Had she dreamed her way into this?
What had happened here was certainly reality. Her heart was pounding still, and her skin was hot. She’d been so shocked by what he’d done, the way he’d grabbed her, the way his mouth had covered hers, she hadn’t been able to move.
How long had it lasted? Thirty seconds, a minute? She couldn’t say, but so much had happened inside her. She was still shaky from it.
He’d been sorry. Of course he had, she thought, and leaned back, closed her eyes and tried to catch her breath. He hadn’t meant to kiss her. It had just been some sort of spontaneous reaction. A male reaction. Then he’d found her lacking and let her go. Apologized. He was a good and honorable man, and he’d apologized for doing something he hadn’t really meant to do.
It was just a kiss, she reminded herself, but had to press a hand to her jittery stomach. Now she’d spoiled things, because she hadn’t been able to shrug it off, or laugh it off like a normal woman. Any more than she’d been able to respond to him and make him want to kiss her again.
She would make an effort, Cassie ordered herself, to behave as though nothing had happened. The very next time she saw him, she would smile and make natural conversation. She was getting better at those things. She simply couldn’t bear it if they couldn’t be friends anymore.
She got up on still-wobbly legs to finish her polishing. And didn’t think of Joe Dolin at all.
Devin worked like a fiend the rest of the day and all of the next. He drove his deputies insane, and drove out to the farm to extend the same courtesy to his younger brother.
Of course, he told himself he’d come out to work. There were crops to be tended, and several of the cows that hadn’t yet calved were due to drop. He found his services welcomed when one of the cows delivered breech.
By the time it was over and the new calf was teetering on its spindly legs, Devin was a mess. His shirt was ruined, his arm was bruised from being contracted inside the cow’s birth canal. And he stank.
In the stall, Shane was equally dirty, and he was whistling cheerfully as he administered inoculations to the annoyed baby. “There you go, pal. That didn’t hurt much.”
Disgusted, Devin stared at him. It had been a hard, messy job, and it wasn’t over. The stall would have to be cleaned out and fresh hay spread, and the calf would need watching for the next couple of hours.
And there was Shane, kneeling in the muck, happy as a fool.
He’d been letting his hair grow lately, Devin noted, and he’d pulled a tail of it through the opening in the back of his grimy cap. His green eyes, shades paler than Devin’s, were dreamy, and his mouth was curved next to his dimple. He was sinfully good-looking, even for a MacKade. And he was the baby of the family, even younger than Devin, which meant that his older brothers had been honor-bound to kick his butt well and often.
As he continued to whistle, Devin gave serious thought to doing so now. “What the hell are you so happy about?”
“Nice healthy calf, from the look of him.” Despite the calf’s strong objections, Shane was holding him still and examining his eyes and ears. “Mama’s doing fine now. What’s not to be happy about?”
“She damn near broke my arm.”
“She couldn’t help it,” Shane said reasonably. “Besides, I told you I’d take that end. You insisted.”
“Yeah, right. This place is a mess.”
“Birthing’s not neat.” Shane stood and rubbed his filthy hands on his equally filthy jeans. He stepped out of the stall and leaned against the open door. “Besides, I thought this might sweat the mood out of you.” His grin was cocky, confident—all the more reason for Devin to want to punch it in. “Women trouble, right?”
“I don’t have women trouble.”
“That’s ’cause you don’t have any women—which, I might add, is an embarrassment to all of us. Why don’t you take one of mine? I’ve got plenty.”
Devin answered the suggestion with the crude and expected response before he stepped over to the sink to wash his hands.
“No, really. You know who I think would be good for you? Frannie Spader. She’s got all this red hair that just sort of tumbles all over the place, and the cutest smile. And when you get past the hair and the smile, she’s got a body that can make a man whimper. I don’t think you’ve done nearly enough whimpering lately.”
“I’ll pick my own women. I don’t need your damn castoffs.”
“Just being brotherly.” He slapped Devin on the back before reaching for the soap. “Of course, if you weren’t so damn brotherly yourself, you could probably be making time with little Cassie—”
It was a tribute to Devin’s speed, and Shane’s innocence, that the blow caught Shane solidly on the jaw and sent him flying. He landed hard, shook his head. Before he could ask Devin what the devil had gotten into him, he was assaulted by a hundred and seventy-five pounds of furious, frustrated male.
They were well matched, knew each other’s moves and rhythms. The barn echoed with grunts, the smack of flesh against bone, curses, as they rolled over the dusty concrete floor.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake.”
The female voice, and the disdain in it, didn’t register on either of the combatants. Shane dropped his guard just long enough to be rewarded with a split lip, and answered it by bloodying Devin’s nose.
“But, darling, it looks like they’ve just gotten started.”
“I mean it, Rafe.” With a heavy sigh, Regan MacKade shifted the gurgling baby on her hip. “Break it up.”
“Women,” he muttered. But he would break it up his way, which was to dive into the fray, and get in a few licks of his own. Knowing he couldn’t enjoy himself for long, he managed to shove Shane aside and sit on Devin.
“Stay out of this.” Swiping at blood, Shane hauled himself to his knees. “It’s between him and me.”
“Maybe I will.” Rafe was having quite a bit of trouble holding Devin down. To prove he meant to, he covered Devin’s grimy face with the flat of his hand and gave it enough of a shove to have his head rapping against the concrete. “And maybe I want to play,” he added. “What’s it about?”
“Ask him.” Already cooling off, Shane flexed his sore hand. “I was just talking to him, and he punched me.”
“Well, I want to punch you half the time you’re talking to me,” Rafe said reasonably, and looked down to see that Devin’s eyes were clearing. He hadn’t meant to rap his brother’s head quite that hard. “What were you talking to him about?”
“Stuff. Women.”
Devin’s vision was coming back, and so was his temper. He started to heave Rafe aside when Regan’s firm, no-nonsense voice stopped him.
“That’s just enough of this ridiculous behavior, Devin. You should be ashamed of yourself.”
Still on top of him, Rafe looked down and grinned. “Yeah, Dev, you should be ashamed of yourself.”
“Get the hell off me.”
“You going to be a good boy?” With a laugh, Rafe leaned over and kissed him. He was quick, and agile, and sprang away before Devin could retaliate.
“A fine thing,” Regan said from the doorway of the barn, making Devin think twice about jumping Shane again. She stood there in tailored slacks and a crisp spring blazer, a wide-ey
ed baby on her hip, a polished leather shoe tapping. “Wrestling in the barn like a couple of bad-tempered boys. Look at the two of you—you’re filthy, bloody, and your clothes are torn.”
“He started it.” Wisely, Shane held back a laugh, and tried to look humble. “Honest, Regan, I was just defending myself.”
“I’m not interested in who started it,” Regan said regally, and deflated her brother-in-law with one snippy look. “I believe we were invited to dinner.”
“Oh, yeah.” Shane had forgotten about that. “We had a little trouble with a birthing. Breech calf. We just got finished.”
“Oh.” Instantly Regan was all concern. Tossing back a curtain of honey-brown hair, she hurried inside. “Is it all right?”
“Just dandy. Hey, Nate.”
“No, you don’t.” Even as the cooing baby held out his arms to his uncle, Regan turned aside. “You’re filthy. The two of you go clean up.”
Devin eyed Shane narrowly, then hissed out a breath. “I felt like pounding somebody. You were available. You also have a big mouth.”
Shane dabbed at the blood on his lip. “You sucker-punched me.”
“So?”
“So I owe you one.”
“That’s it boys, kiss and make up.”
When both Shane and Devin turned on Rafe, Regan gritted her teeth. “Stop right there. If nobody punches anyone else, I’ll cook dinner.”
“Good deal,” Shane decided.
“But you’re not coming in the kitchen until… What’s that noise?”
“What noise?” Devin unclenched his ready fist and listened. The whimpering sound was soft, barely audible over little Nate’s babbling. Homing in on it, he strode halfway down the barn and looked into another stall. “Looks like it’s the day for birthing. Ethel’s having her babies.”
“Ethel.” Like a frantic papa, Shane bolted down the barn, and all but fell into the stall beside his laboring pet. “Oh, honey, why didn’t you call me? Jeez, she’s already had two.”
“Fred’s probably out passing out cigars.” At the entrance to the stall, Rafe leaned over and kissed his wife, then his son. “I know just how he feels.”
Seeing the panic in Shane’s eyes, Devin shook his head. They’d witnessed or assisted in countless births with the stock over the years, but that meant nothing now. This was Ethel, and she was as close to a true love as Shane had ever known. He stepped in, crouched down beside his brother.
“She’s doing fine.” He hooked an arm over Shane’s shoulders.
“You think?”
“Sure. She’s a MacKade, isn’t she?” Devin glanced up at Regan and winked. “MacKade women are the best there is.”
After the birthing, the cleaning up, the cooking and the celebrating of Fred and Ethel’s six healthy puppies, Devin drove back to the office. He was too restless to stay at the farm. Though he had taken a long, soaking bath to soothe out the worst of the aches his scuffle with Shane had caused, he still wasn’t able to fully relax.
He slowed down as he passed the inn, saw lights shining on the second and third floors. Grimly he punched the gas again and headed into town.
She wasn’t going to forgive him easily, he thought. He wasn’t going to forgive himself. He’d acted like a maniac. He’d been rough and demanding when she deserved, and should have expected, a gentle touch.
No wonder she’d looked at him as though he’d lost his mind, her eyes round in shock, her soft, pretty mouth trembling.
He’d make it up to her somehow, eventually. He knew how to bide his time, didn’t he? He’d been waiting for her nearly half his life already.
Joe Dolin was also biding his time. His cell was dark, but he wasn’t sleeping. He was planning. He knew most people thought he wasn’t very smart, but he was going to show them, all of them, soon. He’d learned how to play the game, to say what the guards and the psychiatrists and the fat-faced warden wanted to hear. He’d learned how to act as they wanted him to act.
He could be humble. He could be repentant. He could be anything he had to be. As long as it got him out.
Devin MacKade thought he’d proved something, driving by the work site, flashing his badge. Oh, he owed Devin MacKade. Big-time. He hadn’t forgotten the way Devin had come after him, had cuffed him and tossed him into a cell. No, he hadn’t forgotten what he owed Devin. There would be payback.
But Cassie would come first, because he owed her most of all. Everything would have been fine if she’d stayed in her place. But she’d gone whining to MacKade, sniveling about their personal business.
A man had a right to punish his wife, to give her the back of his hand or let her feel his fist when she needed it. And Cassie had needed it a lot. She still did.
No fancy divorce papers changed that. She was his wife, his property, and he was going to be reminding her of that before too much longer.
Till death do us part, he thought, and smiled into the dark.