Melissa McClone – A Proposal Worth Waiting For: The Heir's Proposal / A Pregnancy, a Party & a Proposal / His Proposal, Their Forever (страница 8)
“A list?”
“Yeah.”
She turned away, panic fluttering in her throat. “You know, I don’t need this...” she began, but a shout from the direction of the beach stopped the words in her throat and they both went out onto the balcony, looking toward where the sound had come from.
“They’ve started back,” Marc said. “Looks like you missed your tour of the boat house.”
They both leaned on the railing, looking west and watching a gorgeous sunset. All traces of the fog were gone now, and the sky was streaked with red and purple. The ocean was silver blue.
Marc rubbed his eyes as though they were tired and he looked again, shaking his head. “It’s so damn beautiful,” he said softly, almost to himself. “I’d forgotten how much I loved the evening sky out here.”
She looked at him sideways. “You haven’t been back here much lately?”
“No. Not at all, in fact. I’ve mostly been overseas.”
She thought about that for a minute. If she’d come earlier, he wouldn’t have been here. And that would have been a good thing. Wouldn’t it?
“When did you get discharged from the military?”
“A while back. But I only came home two days ago.” His mouth twisted. “I’ve been gone over ten years and it all still looks so much the same. You’d think the land would show the scars of...” He winced, then shrugged, letting the thought go. “Anyway, I can’t believe how much this place means to me. I can see my history everywhere I look.”
He pointed. “See that broken gate to the rose garden? See how it lists? That happened when I told my high-school sweetheart I wasn’t the marrying kind. She slapped me and then slammed that poor gate so hard, it almost fell off the hinges.”
Torie tried to remember who that would have been but the memory didn’t surface. “At least you recovered,” she murmured.
“Yeah. Sort of.”
This time his grin was open and sweet and her heartbeat quickened just seeing it.
But he wasn’t finished. “See that pile of rocks by the oak tree? That’s where my brother and I buried our old dog Neville.”
“Oh.” Torie gasped. She’d forgotten about Ricky. Two years older than Marc, he’d been a shyer, more remote figure, sort of awkward and a bit of a computer geek. What had ever happened to Ricky?
“We had a funeral service and put that dear old dog in the ground,” Marc said. He shook his head, a half smile lingering on his lips.
“Where is your brother?” she asked, hoping he would tell more.
He didn’t answer for a long moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was gravelly. “Gone. I can’t believe how long it’s been. He died just over ten years ago.”
“Oh no!”
The news went through her like an electric shock. It was horrible to think of Ricky gone. And all this time, she’d never known about it. She felt a trembling deep down that shook her. Ricky had never been anything much to her. Not the way Marc had been. She’d demonized him in her mind because he was part of her enemy—the Huntingtons. But was that fair? He was part of her past, too.
There was too much tragedy in the world. Ricky, Marc’s father, her own father—all gone. Tears shimmered in her eyes and she covered her mouth with her hands, as though holding back the dark side of life for all she was worth.
He watched her for a moment, wondering why his brother’s death would seem to touch her like this. That was a part of the fascination he had with her—she was always surprising him. Just when he thought he had her all figured out, she would do or say something that showed him how useless it was to make assumptions.
Turning, he looked out at the grounds again, searching for something he could use to change the subject.
“The red tile roof you see in the distance used to be the butler’s house,” he pointed out, hoping to distract her.
It seemed to be working. She’d turned her attention to where he’d indicated.
“He had a little girl who used to hide in the apple tree while I was washing my car over there by the shed. She’d wait up there, eating apples, until the car was sparkling clean and I was gone and then she would throw the apple cores down on my just-washed car.”
“No she did not!” Torie said before she thought. But it wasn’t true! She would never have done such a thing. Would she?
He looked at her in surprise. “How would you know?”
She was flushing again and still wiping tears from her eyes. This was not a road she wanted him to go down. She had to change the subject and nip this in the bud.
Turning away, she went back into the room and sank down to sit on the bed. “Listen, you were going to tell me why you got this nutty idea that Carl and I weren’t married,” she reminded him. Better that than memories of the chubby little girl in the apple tree. “You said you had a list.”
“That’s right.” He followed her back in, standing in front of her and looking down at her. “You want to hear it?”
She took a deep breath and made herself smile. “Sure. And I’ll shoot down every one of your items. Go.”
“Okay.” He cleared his throat. “To begin with, I’d say Carl has a passion, but it’s not for you.”
He said the oddest things!
“Gee thanks,” she retorted.
He gave her a curious look. “I hope that doesn’t break your heart.”
“Hardly. Go on. I thought you had a whole list.”
“I do. Here goes.” His head tilted back and he began to go through the reasons, counting them off on his fingers.
“No ring on your finger. No ring on his. Separate bedrooms. You two sit at a dinner table like strangers. Newlyweds usually can’t keep their hands off each other.”
Her lower lip stuck out and she took a deep breath. “Circumstantial evidence. What else?”
He turned and held her gaze with his own for a long, long moment before he spoke. And then he said, in a soft, husky voice, “The way you look at me.”
She gasped sharply and her cheeks colored again. “You don’t play fair, do you?” she said breathlessly, looking at him wide-eyed, knowing she probably looked hurt rather than angry. Because that was pretty much the way she felt.
He hesitated. She could see the indecision in his eyes. Then he reached out and touched her cheek softly with his fingertips. One casual caress and his hand was gone again.
“Torie, I don’t mean anything personal by that. I just mean that like any healthy young woman, you’re attracted to men. Not just me. It could be anybody. You’re not committed to one guy yet and it’s written all over you.”
He was so right about everything—probably why he was annoying. The more he talked, the less she found she could argue back about.
Still, this was not fair. She turned back to glare at him. “It’s all none of your business, you know.”
“Wrong.” He shrugged, his eyes cool and mysterious. “You came here under false pretenses. You claimed something that isn’t true. I should send you packing.”
She drew in a quick breath. “No. Your mother can do that if she wants. But you have no standing to do it. You didn’t invite us.”
“I didn’t invite you,” he repeated, shaking his head. The bitter twist was back in his mouth. “You’re right. It’s up to my mother. If she doesn’t care that you lied to get in here, why should I?”
Her courage took on new life. “You got that right. Good for you.”
“Tell me this, Torie.” He moved closer, looking down into her eyes. “Just exactly why are you here?”
“Me?”
“Yes. You.” He shook his head. “You’re not married to Carl. You don’t care if he buys the place or not. What do you want out of all this?”
“I...” She closed her eyes and swayed a bit. She wanted to tell him the truth. She wanted to tell him that she’d lived here in the past, that if he thought hard, he would remember her, that his family had ruined her family and they ought to face that fact—and help her get to the truth. That was what she wanted. But she didn’t have the proof to back up those claims. Not yet. Soon, she hoped to lay it all before him. Very soon.
“I’m helping Carl,” she said. “Believe it or not, he thinks he needs me. He thinks portraying himself as a married man gives him more gravitas to make his case and submit his purchase plans.”
“No.” He shook his head slowly, his gaze travelling over her face as though sure the truth was in there somewhere. “That’s not it. I don’t think Carl wants to buy Shangri-La at all. He doesn’t have that land-grab look in his eyes.”
She threw out her hands, palms up. “Okay Mr. Know-It-All, then what did we come here for?” She waited, breathing fast. What was he going to guess? Did he have any idea?
“You got me.” His blue eyes searched her dark ones. “I don’t know. I don’t know why you came. I don’t know what you were doing out at the caves. I don’t know who you really are. But I intend to find out.” He flashed her a lopsided grin, his eyes filled with mischief. “So be careful, baby. Just remember. Like the song says, every move you make.”
“You’ll be watching me,” she said, trying to keep the resentment out of her voice but not entirely succeeding. “Got it.”
“WHAT was that?” Lyla’s coal-black eyes were wide and startled. Her stylishly short hair was swept back in two wings at the sides of her face, making her look all the more surprised. “Was that a wolf?”
It was well after dark and Jimmy had started a fire in the fire pit on the patio overlooking the ocean. The others were gathering there, and Torie had joined them. The strange, high-pitched cry, wild and unnerving, had come during a lull in conversation.