Haunt Me (15 page)

“Do you want him to disappear?” No demand for explanations, no hesitation—just a blunt offer.

“No. Just keep an eye on him. I don’t want him to touch her.”

“I’ll take care of it.”

Elijah didn’t ask for any more details and hung up. Oddly enough, Justin believed him.

Still, he couldn’t leave. He had to be there if she needed him.

This time, I’ll be there.

Chapter Nine

The second full week of September passed in a pleasant haze for Mac. Thankfully, Kevin had gone silent. Whatever magic Clint had worked seemed to have gotten her ex-husband off her back, making her time with Justin all that much sweeter.

He arrived nearly every morning to share breakfast, which he cooked while she made coffee. With the temperatures falling from parboil to pleasant in the mornings, they sat out on the porch. Their conversations traveled along wide and verdant paths—what got him started in restoration, why she loved writing, how they both went to school and earned degrees neither one wanted and how family expectations were hard to live up to.

He would leave before nine to visit one of his worksites, but he always gave her a kiss before he left. Once he took off, she’d retreat to her office to write. Life was so gloriously ordinary, and Mac thrived. Even the odd “haunting” behavior had gone quiet, as though the house had settled into the same rhythm.

During the week, she’d stripped away the wallpaper in the kitchen. The activity was a good break from the book and it revealed the original timber behind it. Justin had even shown her how to strip away the layers of glue. Her to-do list had more checked marks than undone errands.

A week after the Firefly Festival, Justin surprised her with lunch.

“You’re spoiling me.”

He’d brought two huge grilled chicken wraps and made a point of inspecting her hands before letting her eat. Most of the damage she’d done seemed to be healing.

“And mommying me,” she teased as she tugged her fingers loose.

“After you told me what you’ve been doing every day…” He waved his hand around the kitchen. “And
not
letting me help you with it.”

Mac wrinkled her nose. She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but with everything so out of her control, she needed to be in charge of this aspect of her life. “You virtually unearthed the gazebo all by yourself, you replaced the window in the basement, you fixed my water pump, which gave me water pressure, and you’ve replaced half the wiring in the halls. Justin—you even got me an attorney to deal with Kevin. I
need
to do this. Summerfield is mine, and I need to be a part of the process.”

“Hey.” He brushed the hair back from her forehead. “I get it. I like teasing you.”

She relaxed and smiled at him. “I like when you tease me, too. And, if I forget to say it later, thank you for showing me how to do this and bringing all the supplies. Again. I am totally dedicating this book to you.”

“When do I get to read it?” He picked up his drink and sipped the tea through a straw.

“Never.”

“Never?” His brows climbed. “That’s harsh.”

“Not until it’s done. Right now it’s just not that good, and I want it to be good when you read it,” she relented.

“Works in progress, I get. Like any project, it’s not pretty in the beginning.” He leaned back, all casual comfort and gorgeous. His foot rested on the rung beneath her chair. Somehow, he always found a way to be close to her—even sitting across the table. “So…can you tell me what your book is about at least?”

He didn’t usually ask a lot of questions, but his level of support seemed unflagging. She hesitated, though. She’d never been good at talking about her work. Even her bestselling books had always been written away from prying eyes, and only when she’d gone through them multiple times did she send them off to her agent. She’d tried once to talk to Kevin about her work in progress, but he quickly grew bored. According to Kevin, characters in a book weren’t real. Beyond what money they made, he hadn’t cared.

Justin’s not Kevin.
Anxiety pitted in her gut. If Justin ever looked at her the way Kevin had, it would kill her.

He won’t. He’s never looked at me that way.
The abstract thought lifted all the hairs on her nape. For a week she hadn’t heard the spooky voice that wasn’t hers in her head, and now here it was again. That decided things. She’d tell Justin about Madeline.

“My main character is named Madeline. She’s the disowned daughter of the Marquis de Hervault, and I thought it was a romance novel when I first started. But the first book doesn’t have a happily ever after and the second doesn’t seem to be destined for one, either.” Which bugged her more than she cared to admit. In her mind, she could see exactly how it should go, but Madeline never cooperated.

“Why not?”

She cut a sideways glance at him, but his interest sounded genuine. “Madeline keeps making all these…wrong choices. You can’t always choose who you love. Boy, do I ever know that one.” Bitterness crept through her. Kevin had seemed so perfect, yet he still turned into a douche. More than that—he’d controlled her. Manipulated her, so she’d make them money. Make
him
money. Stole from her. Hit her. “But it’s more than just making bad choices. It’s like she doesn’t even see how bad they are until she can’t do anything to change them.”

“So change her. It’s your book.”

If it were only that easy
. She laughed humorlessly and plucked up a French fry. “You’re going to laugh at me.”

“No, I won’t.”

“Yes, you will. Everyone laughs—” Okay, that wasn’t wholly true.
Kevin
laughed at her. Kevin treated her like a pet and her writing like a tool.

“I’m not everyone.” Justin gave her a stern frown.

“No.” She conceded the point. “You aren’t.” Admitting that loosened the knot in her stomach. Even when Justin pushed, he never made her feel like less. “I tried to change the circumstances. I mean, she loves this one guy who’s terrible for her, who treated her badly, and for whom she gave up her dreams and opportunities, but she
loves
him. So love conquers all, right?”

“I’m going to say no, based on your tone.” Justin didn’t laugh, but he was listening.

Warmth spread through her middle and she plunged on. “And that’s my problem. She loves this guy, so writing a book where they end up together and work out their differences shouldn’t be that hard. No matter how many times I tried to write that ending, it sucked and it just wouldn’t come out. So I ended the first book with him leaving her. You know, the whole Scarlett O’Hara, tomorrow-will-be-a-better-day survivor thing.”

“Okay. So that ending worked.”

“Right.” She’d finished her lunch and began cleaning up. “This is all so different from what I normally write that I figured maybe it was just me getting my historical-romance legs, as it were. I’m more of a
Sex in the City
or
Stella Got Her Groove Back
type of writer. So the second book is about Madeline, too. It’s about what she did after, which is sail to England from France because the Duke of Worcester was a guy who actually wanted to marry her before she got all entangled with Kurt, the guy who’s all wrong for her. The point is, she’s not exactly marriageable material anymore.”

“Why not?”

“Because she isn’t a virgin. She took Kurt as a lover.” A burn began in her lower back as she returned to the table. The heat flushed her and made her cold all at once. It was all so damn real and seemed inevitable—like she fought an argument that had already long since been lost.

“Most women aren’t virgins when they get married. Maybe that’s the problem…”

“In the late 1700s? No women of means—particularly with a title—is going to make a marriage if she is despoiled before she takes a husband.”

“Despoiled?” This time, he did laugh.

“You said you wouldn’t.” It was a mock anger, because it really did sound somewhat ridiculous to modern sensibilities. But that was the way of that era, and that time was when her story took place. When Madeline surrendered her virginity, she gave up a hell of a lot more than her innocence.”

“Just…that’s pretty archaic.”

“It is
now
, but back then it was a very real fact of life. They didn’t have DNA tests. Women had to be ‘pure’ when they went to their husbands so entailments and inheritance were secure. A woman always knows the child is born of her body—it’s kind of hard to miss. So if a wife wasn’t pure, then—”

“Got it. So if she showed up pregnant and gave birth within months of the marriage…”

“Exactly. It’s also a status thing. A wife was only meant for her husband and no one else. You throw in religion, politics, and money—Madeline screwed herself by letting Kurt have his way with her. I mean, why pay for the cow when you get the milk for free?” It aggravated her on a level she couldn’t really explain to anyone. She hated what happened to Madeline, hated it. She wanted so badly to fix it.

“So, she goes to see this Duke of Worcester fellow and he’s not interested because she’s despoiled?”

Bless him for trying to follow along.
“Actually, no. He loves her. He wants to marry her. He’s proposed. Twice.” This was the part that hung her up because she couldn’t wrap her mind around how to make it end well.

“So, what’s the problem?”

“You’d think Madeline would jump for joy because he wants to marry her. It would solve everything. Yes, he knows she had a lover before and knows all about her heartbreak. He knows her father disowned her—he knows it all. But she won’t marry him.”

“Why not?”

“Because—” She flailed for the answer, but it wasn’t there. “Because she won’t. And I really don’t know why not. It’s irritating the hell out of me.”

“Is she still hung up on the ex-douche?”

Funny how Justin used the same term she applied to Kevin—but it really did fit.

“I don’t know. She loved him so much. And he hurt her so badly. Not just once, but multiple times. And the duke, James? He’s perfect. He’s kind, he’s caring, he wants to take care of her. And she’s just a bitch to him.” Mac sighed. It made her heartsick and she had to swallow the lump in her throat to keep talking. “She’ll be his mistress, but she won’t marry him. I have no idea why.”

“Maybe she needs to get the other guy out of her system. Maybe she hasn’t let him go. Has she told the new guy—”

“James,” she said, supplying the name.

Justin paused, curiosity deepening in his eyes. “James,” he repeated. “Has she told him she doesn’t want a real relationship?”

“She wants a relationship. She just doesn’t want to get married.”

“I see.” He spit out the two words aggressively. “And he wants marriage and not a mistress?”

“You know, I don’t write it from his viewpoint. I don’t think I really know what he wants. It’s all sort of filtered through Madeline and the interactions she has with him. He’s proposed, and he offered her his private hunting cabin to stay in. She doesn’t want to agree to anything.” She chewed her upper lip. Madeline seemed intent on sabotaging herself, or maybe she saw something wrong with James that Mac hadn’t yet?

“Well, it seems to me if her options are so limited, she’s an idiot to turn him down. Marrying him solves all her problems.” Annoyance joined the aggression in his voice. “Why the hell doesn’t she believe him?”

“See, but I don’t think marriage does solve everything.” But she was hesitant to admit it, especially when Justin stood and cleared away the rest of the dishes. Every movement was brisk but taut—as though he were holding himself in check, but only barely. The scene she’d been stuck in for the last few days replayed in her mind.

“You said she’s despoiled, disowned, and apparently hurting for money. She has nowhere to go and is relying on his charity, so how does marrying him and securing her future not fix everything?” He boxed her in at the counter and stared down at her. “So why not let him help?”

“She’s damaged. Kurt broke something in her. I think maybe she cares about James more than she realizes and she’s trying to protect him…”

“From what? If you were Madeline and I were James, why would you have to protect me?” Despite the harshness of his voice, his hand was gentle when he cupped her cheek. “Why?”

Mac licked her lips, terrified and entranced in the same breath. Justin would never hurt her—and that was the problem. “She’s protecting him from herself. Kurt married this other woman for her position and her money—probably the same reasons he courted Madeline, but her father would have nothing to do with him. When it became clear her father, the Marquis de Hervault, would not bend, Kurt made his excuses for why he and Madeline couldn’t marry, yet they were lovers for many weeks before he did. And then he married another.”

She wasn’t talking to Justin anymore; she was thinking out loud. “Something in how she sees herself broke that day, and she’s been running on this survivor mode for so long…I don’t think she even knows how to not be in it.”

Justin caressed her cheek, moving his thumb in a slow, sweet massage that soothed and comforted in equal measure. “So how do we fix her?”

Were they really having this conversation? He waited, staring at her expectantly, and she lifted her shoulders. “I don’t know. I think that’s why I’ve been stuck. I think she should take him up on his offer, but she’s fighting me on it and then…it sorta just stopped coming. Every time I sit down to write the scene where she says yes, nothing happens.”

“Sounds like she needs a big gesture, or patience. If the guy really does care about her, he’ll find a way to get through. I would.”

Latching onto those last two words, she put her hand on his chest. The steady beat of his heart anchored her. “What would you do?”

“I’d never give up.” He pressed a kiss to her lips. The brief contact was both sweet and electric. “I’d ask you every day, and I would never let you drive me away.”

Something kindled in his eyes, a gleam of understanding, and she wanted to capture it.

“You have to finish the story, Mac…”

“But we were talking…”

“I’ll be here,” he promised, and released her to give her a gentle nudge. “Go. You have to finish it.”

She hesitated. He’d been supportive before, but then so had Kevin.

The moment that fear surfaced, she tried to swallow it back. Searching his face, all she saw was the same good humor and kindness that had been there from the first day.