“She goes on and on about those times. Sometimes I wonder if she knows what she’s saying. But her mind seems very clear, and somehow talking of those times seems to soothe her.”
"I’m sure a lot of it has to do with your being there.”
Caitlin’s soft voice drew his gaze to her, and he remembered. She was an innocent in all this, a pawn. She had trusted him . . . opened up her home to him. And he was a first-class bastard, a bastard who could easily fall in love with her if he wasn’t careful. “We’ve always been close.”
She misinterpreted his flat tone and raised her hand to his face. “I know how you feel. My grandfather’s illness was very hard for me to watch. He’d always been such a vital man, but he didn’t mind his going as much as I did. He was eager to see Arabella again. ”
He closed his fingers around her wrist, but he didn’t pull her hand away. “His wife?”
She nodded. “I wish I could describe his expression to you—when he drew his last breath.”
"You were there?”
“All my life he’d been there for me. I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I hadn’t been there for him. And I was glad I was. He seemed so at peace, so happy. I knew without a doubt that he was with Arabella, so I grieved only for myself then.”
Why, oh why, did she have to be such a special person? Feeling momentarily defeated, he gave in, drew her into his arms, and just held her.
Caitlin pressed her cheek against his chest. No matter what he’d told her about himself, she was certain there was much, much more to learn. He was a difficult, enigmatic man, but she was beginning to feel just as puzzled about herself. What were these sad-happy, confused-clear feelings she’d been having?
She’d had what she supposed could be termed a few “relationships” over the years, and along the way she had lost the normal number of illusions. She’d learned that fairy tales weren’t real and that love could be confusing, sometimes even painful. None of her lessons in love had been traumatic, but now she realized that what she’d experienced in the past was milk toast in comparison to what she was going through with Nico. He shook her to the marrow of her bones.
She lifted her head and brushed a warm soft kiss across his lips. She felt him stiffen, then slowly relax and gather her closer to him. The control was still there, but so was the heat.
And the taste of Nico lingered on her lips long after he’d abruptly and quickly broken off the kiss and gone upstairs to his room. And still she found she couldn’t sleep.
In his room, Nico dialed and waited. When the sleepy sound of Amarillo Smith’s gravel voice came on the line, he said, “Rill, it’s me.”
“ ’Bout damn time you called. Where are you?”
“SwanSea.”
“Good. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to get in.” Nico’s mouth firmed. It might have been better if he hadn’t. “I’m here. Anything new?”
“Not so far. Just lie low and get well. ”
It sounded so easy, he thought grimly. "Right. ” “Are you in pain, Nico?”
“No.”
“I just wondered. Your voice sounded funny there for a minute. ”
“I’m fine. Have you looked in on Elena?”
“She’s doing well.”
“Did you check to make sure she has everything she needs?”
“Of course.” The acerbic tone of Amarillo’s drawl indicated Nico had been stupid even to ask.
Nico’s lips quirked. Amarillo had been raised in the oil fields of West Texas, and his frontier mentality made him a law unto himself. No one understood why he was in Boston, but he was as hard and as tough as they came and always got results. And he was the one man Nico trusted with his life.
“Got a pencil. Rill? Ill give you this number.”
Three
Ramona, a big-boned woman with shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair and a no-nonsense manner, filled Caitlin’s cup with steaming black coffee, then stood back and fixed her with a critical stare. “Why do have shadows under your eyes?
"I’m sure a lot of it has to do with your being there.”
Caitlin’s soft voice drew his gaze to her, and he remembered. She was an innocent in all this, a pawn. She had trusted him . . . opened up her home to him. And he was a first-class bastard, a bastard who could easily fall in love with her if he wasn’t careful. “We’ve always been close.”
She misinterpreted his flat tone and raised her hand to his face. “I know how you feel. My grandfather’s illness was very hard for me to watch. He’d always been such a vital man, but he didn’t mind his going as much as I did. He was eager to see Arabella again. ”
He closed his fingers around her wrist, but he didn’t pull her hand away. “His wife?”
She nodded. “I wish I could describe his expression to you—when he drew his last breath.”
"You were there?”
“All my life he’d been there for me. I wouldn’t have forgiven myself if I hadn’t been there for him. And I was glad I was. He seemed so at peace, so happy. I knew without a doubt that he was with Arabella, so I grieved only for myself then.”
Why, oh why, did she have to be such a special person? Feeling momentarily defeated, he gave in, drew her into his arms, and just held her.
Caitlin pressed her cheek against his chest. No matter what he’d told her about himself, she was certain there was much, much more to learn. He was a difficult, enigmatic man, but she was beginning to feel just as puzzled about herself. What were these sad-happy, confused-clear feelings she’d been having?
She’d had what she supposed could be termed a few “relationships” over the years, and along the way she had lost the normal number of illusions. She’d learned that fairy tales weren’t real and that love could be confusing, sometimes even painful. None of her lessons in love had been traumatic, but now she realized that what she’d experienced in the past was milk toast in comparison to what she was going through with Nico. He shook her to the marrow of her bones.
She lifted her head and brushed a warm soft kiss across his lips. She felt him stiffen, then slowly relax and gather her closer to him. The control was still there, but so was the heat.
And the taste of Nico lingered on her lips long after he’d abruptly and quickly broken off the kiss and gone upstairs to his room. And still she found she couldn’t sleep.
In his room, Nico dialed and waited. When the sleepy sound of Amarillo Smith’s gravel voice came on the line, he said, “Rill, it’s me.”
“ ’Bout damn time you called. Where are you?”
“SwanSea.”
“Good. I was afraid you wouldn’t be able to get in.” Nico’s mouth firmed. It might have been better if he hadn’t. “I’m here. Anything new?”
“Not so far. Just lie low and get well. ”
It sounded so easy, he thought grimly. "Right. ” “Are you in pain, Nico?”
“No.”
“I just wondered. Your voice sounded funny there for a minute. ”
“I’m fine. Have you looked in on Elena?”
“She’s doing well.”
“Did you check to make sure she has everything she needs?”
“Of course.” The acerbic tone of Amarillo’s drawl indicated Nico had been stupid even to ask.
Nico’s lips quirked. Amarillo had been raised in the oil fields of West Texas, and his frontier mentality made him a law unto himself. No one understood why he was in Boston, but he was as hard and as tough as they came and always got results. And he was the one man Nico trusted with his life.
“Got a pencil. Rill? Ill give you this number.”
Three
Ramona, a big-boned woman with shoulder-length salt-and-pepper hair and a no-nonsense manner, filled Caitlin’s cup with steaming black coffee, then stood back and fixed her with a critical stare. “Why do have shadows under your eyes?
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