dangerous as the one he’d been headed to. Unfortunately, his bone-chilling fear for her safety had been realized, making it one of the few times in his life Duncan wished to hell he’d been wrong.
When he’d first arrived in Cairo, harried and insane with worry, she’d looked utterly lost. Uncharacteristically vulnerable and tragically broken. But even as he’d sat beside her bed, listening to the doctor relate her various injuries, including the miscarriage, she hadn’t wept a single tear. Instead, she’d retreated into a cold, dark place, and nothing he’d attempted over the next six weeks together back in New York had managed to infiltrate it.
He’d always known what Cass was thinking. Or feeling. They’d been synced in a way Duncan had never felt with any other person. Enough so that he’d been naive, or arrogant, enough to believe the connection between them would be impossible to sever.
But he’d been wrong. Once they’d returned home to the States, he’d felt totally incapable of knowing what was going through that talented mind. Or how to reach her wounded, ice-encased heart.
When she’d told him that she no longer loved him and sent him away, she’d driven a stake through his heart. But even that hadn’t made him fall out of love with her. She might as well have tried to force the sun to stop rising in the morning. Or setting in the evening.
The thing to do, Duncan decided now, was to channel his inner Marine. Winning Cassandra Carpenter back was the most important mission he’d ever embark on.
And just like those other missions, failure was not an option.
Meanwhile, understanding she needed some time and space to adjust, he decided to write those damn stories for Winston. Because while there was nothing the billionaire network news titan couldn’t buy for himself, Duncan definitely owed him for sending him to Ireland.
7
W ell. This certainly wasn’t what she’d expected. Not that she’d known what to expect, which had been part of Cassandra’s problem. Unlike her überplanner, perfectionist cousin, a life bouncing back and forth between traveling the globe with her parents and staying on the commune with Sedona—whenever her mother and father took off for somewhere they felt was too dangerous for their daughter—had taught Cassandra to not only accept the unexpected but to thrive on it.
Until Egypt.
On their wedding day, as the sun had set into the sea in a dazzling red glow, Cassandra had realized that her entire life had become divided into Before Duncan and After Duncan .
Until that tumultuous, terrifying day when she’d lost that child she’d never gotten to share with her husband had taken over the top place.
But what, she wondered, as she watched Duncan put the plates into the dishwasher, if it might be possible to recapture what they’d had together? He’d always been an expert at hiding his thoughts, but unless she was totally misreading him, which could be possible since she wasn’t as sure of anything as she’d once been, he was pleased she’d shown up here.
After all, he’d gone to the trouble of shopping at the local store, asking the shopkeeper for menu advice, actually giving thought to a meal instead of dialing for takeout as they usually did on those rare occasions when they were together in New York.
Of course, the main reason for all that takeout Chinese and pizza was because they’d spent so much stolen time together making love.
Which hadn’t left much time for talking.
It occurred to her now that she knew little about her husband other than he came from old financial wealth, had dropped out of Princeton, and that his mother was a “functioning” alcoholic. She’d figured out for herself that he wasn’t close to his family when, months after their wedding, he was still dodging her questions about when she was going to meet James and Angela McCaragh.
Cassandra had spoken briefly with them on the phone the day after the wedding. James’s
When he’d first arrived in Cairo, harried and insane with worry, she’d looked utterly lost. Uncharacteristically vulnerable and tragically broken. But even as he’d sat beside her bed, listening to the doctor relate her various injuries, including the miscarriage, she hadn’t wept a single tear. Instead, she’d retreated into a cold, dark place, and nothing he’d attempted over the next six weeks together back in New York had managed to infiltrate it.
He’d always known what Cass was thinking. Or feeling. They’d been synced in a way Duncan had never felt with any other person. Enough so that he’d been naive, or arrogant, enough to believe the connection between them would be impossible to sever.
But he’d been wrong. Once they’d returned home to the States, he’d felt totally incapable of knowing what was going through that talented mind. Or how to reach her wounded, ice-encased heart.
When she’d told him that she no longer loved him and sent him away, she’d driven a stake through his heart. But even that hadn’t made him fall out of love with her. She might as well have tried to force the sun to stop rising in the morning. Or setting in the evening.
The thing to do, Duncan decided now, was to channel his inner Marine. Winning Cassandra Carpenter back was the most important mission he’d ever embark on.
And just like those other missions, failure was not an option.
Meanwhile, understanding she needed some time and space to adjust, he decided to write those damn stories for Winston. Because while there was nothing the billionaire network news titan couldn’t buy for himself, Duncan definitely owed him for sending him to Ireland.
7
W ell. This certainly wasn’t what she’d expected. Not that she’d known what to expect, which had been part of Cassandra’s problem. Unlike her überplanner, perfectionist cousin, a life bouncing back and forth between traveling the globe with her parents and staying on the commune with Sedona—whenever her mother and father took off for somewhere they felt was too dangerous for their daughter—had taught Cassandra to not only accept the unexpected but to thrive on it.
Until Egypt.
On their wedding day, as the sun had set into the sea in a dazzling red glow, Cassandra had realized that her entire life had become divided into Before Duncan and After Duncan .
Until that tumultuous, terrifying day when she’d lost that child she’d never gotten to share with her husband had taken over the top place.
But what, she wondered, as she watched Duncan put the plates into the dishwasher, if it might be possible to recapture what they’d had together? He’d always been an expert at hiding his thoughts, but unless she was totally misreading him, which could be possible since she wasn’t as sure of anything as she’d once been, he was pleased she’d shown up here.
After all, he’d gone to the trouble of shopping at the local store, asking the shopkeeper for menu advice, actually giving thought to a meal instead of dialing for takeout as they usually did on those rare occasions when they were together in New York.
Of course, the main reason for all that takeout Chinese and pizza was because they’d spent so much stolen time together making love.
Which hadn’t left much time for talking.
It occurred to her now that she knew little about her husband other than he came from old financial wealth, had dropped out of Princeton, and that his mother was a “functioning” alcoholic. She’d figured out for herself that he wasn’t close to his family when, months after their wedding, he was still dodging her questions about when she was going to meet James and Angela McCaragh.
Cassandra had spoken briefly with them on the phone the day after the wedding. James’s
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