Heart of the Hunter (20 page)

Matthew counselled patience, and at last she'd understood what Jeb must resolve for himself. But patience was never more difficult than now, when she saw the still unresolved remorse in him. The need.

She'd waited for him to come to her. He had one more step to take, but not here. Not now. She backed away, beyond his reach. Beyond her own need.

“I know who I am now, and what I want,” she said. “Most of all, I know where I belong. Do you know? You've traveled the world, been everywhere, done everything, but to be happy there has to be one special place for each of us. One special place where we belong.

“Where is your place, Jeb? Where do you belong?”

She backed away another step. Ashley was at her heels, frightened by the flicker of lightning and the first low growl of thunder. “I have to take Ashley home to Charleston. His aunt Patrice will be waiting. She only lent him to me for the day.”

At Jeb's quick look, Nicole smiled. “He lives with her now. I'm sure you knew that, but it's more than an arrangement that works for both of them. They're the last surviving members of a family. They were alone, now they have each other. Again, thanks to you.”

Patrice Blakemond, a wealthy woman so reclusive even the nosiest grandes dames of Charleston knew little or nothing of her, and Ashley? Stranger things had happened. “She accepted him?”

“Without reservation.” Before he could ask anything more, she rushed on, “I won't risk coming back from Charleston in the storm. If I don't see you again, good luck.”

Ashley caught at her hand, anxious to be away from the threat of the storm. With a slight pressure of her fingers and a smile, Nicole calmed him.

She waited for a new rumble of thunder to fade away. She turned once more to Jeb. Her look lingered on his haggard face. Wishing she could comfort him as easily as Ashley, she called softly, “Be happy.”

* * *

Nicole wandered her garden with a distorted sense of déjà vu. Months ago, a woman had walked through the mists, savoring the last minutes before a summer squall. The time when the air was humid and fragrant with the scent of summer flowers, when the wind lay still and the city beyond the gates disappeared in the hush. Then her world had been Charleston and Kiawah.

But the woman had changed, as the season changed. Flowers bending beneath the gathering weight of the mist were flowers of spring. And her world was Jeb.

Her steps were halting over stones that wandered among the flowers. Her skirt of rich purple brushed the waxen foliage that crowded the walks of her private place. Lace trembled at her breast in the anguish of waiting. She had gambled, played Matthew's game of patience. But now that patience was strained.

Yet she was sure Jeb cared. Sure Eden hadn't been a lie. So sure...

The bell by the gate sent its deep notes pealing through the mist. A pretty sound that left her petrified.

Jeb would be waiting beyond the vintage iron.

Had he taken the final step that meant commitment? Or had he come to say goodbye?

The bell sounded again, and again. An urgent demand that she come to him. Reluctant, afraid to hope, on leaden feet she moved down the walk, past crape myrtle and magnolia. At the gate, she stopped, stared. In the hours since she'd left him, he'd fought a battle, and every skirmish had marked him. His hair was tousled, far more than from the wind. Lines at his forehead were deeper, furrows bracketing his mouth harsher, circles beneath his eyes darker. The eyes glaring at her over graceful iron work were blazing.

“Open the gate, Nicky. Open it, or I'll tear the damned thing off its hinges.”

With shaking fingers she dealt with the latch. When she would have opened it, he was there before her. Iron battered against brick with a metallic clang. Before the echo died, his hands were in her hair, lifting her face to his. She had a second to think how desperate he looked, then she didn't think at all.

His mouth was fierce against hers. His kiss was greedy, demanding, granting no quarter, accepting none. Before she could offer, he plundered. Where she would take the kiss, he went before her. He was a man adrift, she was his moor, his heart. He drank with a thirst that could be slaked, but never quenched.

When he thought he would die of wanting her, he drew away. Her face still framed in his hands, he leaned his forehead to hers. “Call me bastard and traitor, or anything unspeakable, but don't send me away, sweetheart. Please,” he whispered. “Not yet.”

Nicole's heart lifted. This was the fulfillment of her hopes. The last step, the end of a battle. “Never.”

“I've fought this and myself and you. I've worked to exhaustion to forget, but how can I forget when my dreams won't? When every night I close my eyes they're there, waiting for me—filled with you, and lace, and this. I don't want to fight anymore, Nicky. I...” His desperately rehearsed plea faltered. “What?” He leaned away, his hands slipping to her shoulders. “What did you say?”

Lightning flickered, thunder whispered a warning. A rising wind ruffled a lock of heavy, golden hair, tumbling it over his forehead. With her fingertips she stroked it back. “I said never.”

“But I lied to you.”

She sighed at his determination to recount his offenses. “Did you? Tell me when.”

“By omission, then, if not in fact.”

“And not by choice.”

“You were my Judas goat to catch Tony.”

“I know, and now I understand. But Tony made me that.”

“I walked away from you on Eden.”

“I never expected more than we shared. A kiss isn't a covenant, Jeb, nor making love a binding promise. There were no obligations on Eden.”

“Dammit! Nicky.” He shook her gently. “Stop being so maddeningly reasonable.”

“Would it help anything if I weren't?”

“Yes! No! It would help even more if you slapped me silly.”

“I won't hit you, not ever.” Leaning her cheek against his scarred arm and turning only slightly, she touched the angry blemish with her lips. “You've been hurt enough.”

His breath was labored and shallow. “Nicky...”

“Don't fight me, Jeb.” Lifting her head, she looked up at him. Her eyes were luminous, catching the violet of her dress and the fire of lightning. “I'd much rather you kiss me.”

“Dear heaven, woman. I think before we're done, I
will
be mad.” He was already drawing her to him, his head dipping to her.

“Before we're done?” she murmured against his lips. “When will that be?”

Lightning split the sky, thunder shook the ground beneath their feet. The spiraling storm gave birth to a gale that whipped their breath away, but not before she heard him promise, “Never.”

N
icole stood by a window. The sun was bright and strong. But like her, the garden bore lingering traces of a storm in the night.

Through the evening and after, rain had pounded the roof and gushed over the eaves. In the aftermath of lightning that turned the world incandescent, thunder crashed in descending darkness.

But the storm with its unbridled furor was only the minor prelude for a consuming passion.

With a contented smile she gazed out at a perfect world. In the morning light, plant and bloom had never been lovelier than when glistening with captured raindrops as they opened to the sun. She ached pleasantly in every muscle and sinew, and in her bed Jeb slept the restful sleep of absolution.

Nicole tugged her robe closer, wondering if he would ever believe there was nothing that needed forgiving. The harm was Tony's. The need to insure there would be no more children like Julie Brown transcended the cost. To her, to Jeb and even to Ashley. Now Ashley was safe, as well, thanks to Jeb.

“Good morning.” Jeb slid a hand beneath her robe and drew her back against him.

Nicole smiled and let him hold her. “Hi, sleepyhead.”

“Guilty.” He kissed her neck. “What were you thinking?”

“About Ashley and you.”

“What about us?”

“How did you know he had family nearby?”

“I played a hunch, and with a lot of help from researchers and genealogists it paid off. The best was a stroke of luck.”

“The portrait of his mother at the Blakemond mansion.”

“Proof positive. Only fingerprints or a battery of tests would be better.”

“Patrice wouldn't hear of subjecting Ashley to them. As far as she's concerned there's no mistaking the resemblance, and his age is right. Who would ever dream the woman Folly's Castle was built for would be Ashley's mother. How could she possibly survive the hurricane that destroyed it?”

“We'll never know that part. Records tell us only that some poor, half-demented creature washed on shore miles from the island. No one knows how she eventually made her way to Charleston. Not even she remembered how or why, or even who she was. Yet she spent the rest of her life as a recluse, taking care of her baby and wandering the shore looking for something or someone.”

“The castle,” Nicole ventured. “And her forbidden lover.”

“Maybe she had a glimmering of memory. It would explain the similarity of her real name and the surname she gave Ashley.”

“She loved him, you know. He was well cared for and he'd been taught a lot. She left him the shack past the wharves and schooled him in the trade that was his livelihood after her death. He doesn't remember her and the castle can't ever really be his, but seeing it and hearing the story gives him a sense of belonging. Best of all, he has a home and a family now, for as long as he lives. Patrice is only nine years older than he. She never married and she's lonely, and Ashley can be amazingly good company.” Nicole chuckled. “He's teaching her to paint.”

“That's terrific.” He moved the collar of her robe aside to kiss the curve of her shoulder. “You're terrific.”

She turned in his arms, discovering he was delightfully naked. Rising on tiptoe she gave him a teasing kiss. “Of course I'm terrific, but not as terrific as you.”

“Wanna bet?”

“Wouldn't be fair.”

“How so?” With his help, her robe slipped off her shoulders.

“Because I have proof. Something you seem to have forgotten.”

“When I look at you, I forget everything.”

“Then you're glad you saved my life.”

The robe drifted to the floor. “Very glad.”

“That's it. If I'd taken your bet I would've won. You're a hero, and heroes are more terrific than anybody.”

“Sweetheart.” Her breast was a perfect fit for his hand.

She drew a long shuddering breath. “Hmm?”

“Hush.”

* * *

“Why so quiet?” Jeb asked.

Nicole lay in his arms in the tall four-poster bed with only a sheet crumpled at her waist. She didn't answer for a long while, instead she took his hand from her breast. Linking her fingers through his, she drew their joined hands to her mouth, tracing lazy patterns over his knuckles with her lips.

Jeb didn't push, he'd begun to learn she would face any trouble. But in her own time.

When she spoke, at last, it was of Tony. “I've tried to understand what happened, and when it began. I can't believe he never loved me.”

There was no answer for what happened. Part of it was that something was missing in him from the beginning. An absence of conscience that set the stage for the rest. Jeb didn't know how it happened, nor the exact moment it began. But he'd seen evidence of his detachment the day a surfboard battered his sister's face.

“He loved you. Why else did he take himself out of your life? Why did he protect you from the horror of his?” Someday, when she was ready, Jeb knew he would tell her how Tony systematically removed every trace of her connection to him. As far as the world was concerned, his sister ceased to exist shortly after she graduated from the university. When she'd turned her back on the ugliness of the academic world and relocated in the east.

There were accounts of her death, even a grave and a stone with her name on it in a cemetery in a tiny California town. A tenuous subterfuge that wouldn't have fooled the few who were close to her. But it was never intended for them. It was meant to protect her from people like the Merino family.

And it had.

“He loved you, Nicky.” Jeb had seen the love, and he'd seen the beginning of its death. “He loved you very much, but through the years the demented man he became forgot.”

She was quiet, thoughtful. He knew she was pondering the explanation he proposed, dissecting it, accepting it bit by bit. “I'd like to believe you.” After a minute, she nodded decisively. “I choose to believe you.”

It wouldn't be quite as simple as making a choice, but it was a beginning. And enough for now. Jeb kissed the top of her head, and held her tighter.

In the garden a robin sang of spring and new beginnings. Jeb was grateful for both, and pleased that Nicole was composed, and finally at ease. He let his mind drift to the past as she snuggled against him. He thought she would sleep, recouping the rest he had denied her. He was wrong.

“Now you're the quiet one.”

“Am I?” he asked.

“Aren't you?” His hand was still in hers, she brought his fingers back to her kiss. “Want to tell me?”

“Nothing much to tell. I was thinking about memories. How strange they can be.” He spoke as much to himself as to Nicole.

“Sometimes they are.”

“Some are gone in a flash, while others are branded on our hearts and minds forever. Take you, for instance—”

She laughed. “You have.”

“You asked.” He kissed the top of her head. “So don't distract me by playing the wicked wanton.”

“I think that's a redundant characterization, but who's playing?” she asked dryly. “And do you really want me to stop?”

His free hand drifted over her midriff, down her hip, lingering low over her stomach before inching slowly to her breast. As his caress took her breath away, he chuckled. “What would you say?”

She considered every new ache, and that he looked tired again. “I say you should continue your discourse on memory.”

“Ahh, but where was I?”

“Memories are strange, and you were going to take me.”

“Right.” He grinned, resisted the obvious and returned to the subject virtually in midsentence. “You were a kid I knew for less than a year, but I never forgot. I remember the braces and the shy smile that tried to hide them. And the phenomenal mind.

“I had trouble with this assignment from the first. Something that hadn't happened before. Most are cut and dried, there's a problem, we solve it. That's it. But it wasn't so simple this time. I kept remembering how hard it was to be the youngest and brightest kid on campus, and how you looked when you discovered someone you trusted was only using your mind. I knew that before this was done, I would see that look again. This time, I would be the one who put it there.

“I wasn't wrong, Nicky. I saw it in the hospital, while we waited to hear if Ashley would live or die.”

“So you went away, because of a look.”

“Sounds crazy now, but yes.”

“But you're back.”

“And all is well, even with Ashley. I didn't think he would remember after so long. But he did and I could swear he was glad to see me.”

“Memory is strange. Haven't you questioned why he didn't forget you?”

“It occurred to me it was unusual.”

“Not so unusual when he has a photograph of you.”

“Oh?” Photographs of the men of The Black Watch, of Simon's Ladies from Hell, were rare. But Nicole knew nothing of the clandestine organization. She assumed he and the men who came with him to the island were part of a unique police force. The first part, at least, was true. With Simon's permission, he would tell her what he could, when the time was right.

“Mitch brought the photograph. A snapshot, actually.”

“He did?” There was surprise in Jeb's voice. “When?”

“He attended the services for Tony.” Links of Jeb's bracelet pressed against the curve of her jaw as she held his hand tighter. It was ironic that Brett's gift of thanks for saving her husband's life, and hands, had saved Jeb's. Someday she would find Brett McLachlan and tell her. And thank her.

“Nicky.” Jeb prodded her from her wandering thoughts. “Why the photograph?”

“Sorry, I just had a thought, something I need to do, but it can wait.”

“The photograph, Nicky.”

“Yes, of course, the photograph. You've seen that Ashley's memory is selective.”

“I have.”

“I'm afraid his clearest memory of the evening he was shot is that he hurt you with the knife when he fell. It was an accident. We understand, but he can't. For a time he was convinced you died, too. Like Tony. He couldn't deal with being responsible. Matthew suggested the photograph, to prove you were all right. Ashley knows what you've done for him, Patrice reminds him regularly. Now he won't part with your picture.”

“I didn't know.” An understatement. Mitch had never mentioned the services. Neither he nor Matthew ever hinted at continued contact with Nicole. But not even the fearless men of The Black Watch prodded a wolf with a sore heart.

“Matthew said you didn't want to know, that you weren't ready to deal with...everything.” She turned in his arms, her body lying over his. “Most of all, he says you couldn't deal with falling in love with me.”

“Matthew talks too damn much.”

“Matthew says very little, and only what I need to hear.”

He tugged his hand from hers, to frame the face that looked solemnly down at him. “Maybe it's time I said what you need to hear. Maybe I need to hear it myself.”

Nicole waited, but he didn't continue. After an endless minute, he sighed heavily. “It isn't quite as simple as I thought. First there's something I have to explain.”

She waited again, silently.

“I didn't want this assignment and I didn't want to see you again. For a lot of reasons. Added to them was the possibility you were an accessory.”

“Accessory!” The word burst from her in its inherent horror.

“Shh, love. Hear me out. I said possibility. I'm alive today because I look at all the possibilities. Even the long shots.”

“You thought I could...” Her voice failed. As she pulled away from him, tears she'd denied when she'd lost a brother, and nearly a friend and finally a lover, sparkled in her eyes. “What if...”

“If you were part of it? God, sweetheart, that's what was tearing me apart.”

“Why? Whatever was needed would have been part of your assignment, wouldn't it? So why would you care?”

“Because I knew even before I came, that if I saw you again I would fall in love with you.” He wanted to touch her, to draw her back to him and comfort her. But he knew she wouldn't accept his comfort, not yet. “I would have loved you years ago, but we were at different stages of our lives, and the timing wasn't right.” A sound rumbled deep in his throat, a mix of concession and bittersweet laughter. “I didn't stand a chance the second time around.”

She spun away from him, taking the sheet with her as she left the bed. Swathed in its bright color, with thumb and index finger kneading her temples, she muttered in shocked tones. “You say it was preordained that you were going to fall in love with me. Yet, if it was necessary, you were going to...”

“No.”

She took her hand from her eyes, her gaze challenging his. “Then what?”

“I didn't know then. I don't now.”

“Who are you?” She was shivering. “What are you?”

He left the bed and crossed the room to her. “I'm not like Tony. I'm Jeb Tanner, time hasn't changed that. What am I? A hunter, and more. Someday I'll explain. But can't it be enough, for now, that I'm a man who loves you?”

Nicole looked mutely out at the garden.

“I walked away from you before, Nicky, not because of what I am, but because I thought it was what you wanted. I will again, but this time you have to tell me to go.”

She didn't respond.

“There are things I can't tell you, not ever. I'm sorry for that, but I won't lie to you, and I won't hurt you. You trusted me on Eden, and you said you loved me.” Curving his palm around her cheek, he turned her unresisting face back to his. “Do you trust me now?
Will
you trust me enough to love me again?”

Could she? Her mind was whirling, but the answer wasn't in her mind. She searched her heart. The answer was there. “Yes.” The tears she'd fought for so long spilled down her cheeks. “I will.”