Ladd Haven (15 page)

Delaney stopped, glanced over at Nick.
As though sensing her need, he rose and came to her. Sliding her
arms around his solid torso, she sank into the hard line of his
body, inhaled the warm subtle traces of his cologne. He was her
strength, her support. Whatever happened, Nick would help. “I’m
worried about her.”

He stroked her head, the hair down her
back. “I know you are.”

“
She’s going to get
hurt.”

“
We’ve discussed this. It
might be a reality she has to face, come to terms with.”

“
But she’s not
prepared.”

“
She’ll deal with it. She’s
a strong young woman. She’ll cope with whatever comes her
way.”

Delaney gazed up at him. Soothed by the
steel underlay in his dark eyes, she knew. If the sky fell into the
valley, Nick would pick it back up and stuff it back into place. No
matter what happened, he’d make everything right. He did it with
Jillian. Sent her packing after she tried to steal their land. He’d
do so with Jack. There were no words for the gratitude and love
Delaney felt for Nick. No words to describe the support she knew
she could count on from this man. Nick was her rock. “Thank
you.”

“
You’re welcome. Now come
over here and warm me up some cornbread. I’m starving.”

“
Starving?” She gaped at
him, glad for the reprieve into normalcy. “You ate half the pan of
bread with your chicken—the second pan!”

“
And I’m still hungry. Now
go on and make your man some food, woman.” He kissed the top of her
head with a simultaneous pat to her rear. “It’s in the
contract.”

Delaney remained in his embrace,
smiling up at him. “I signed no such contract.”

“
Well, you should have. I’ll
never be the same without your cooking.”

“
You mean my cornbread.”
Nick ate the stuff like it was candy.

“
Cornbread, chicken, grits,
it’s all good. And speaking of good, when are you going to make me
some of that sweet potato casserole?”

“
Sweet potato
casserole?”

“
Yes, you know, the stuff
Ashley served us for Thanksgiving. How many times do I have to beg
before you give in and make it?”

Delaney laughed. “It’s not sweet potato
season.”

“
It isn’t?”

“
No.”

“
Well, how long do I have to
wait?”

Delaney released and shook her head.
“You sure do have a one track mind.”

He grinned. “That’s what makes me so
successful. Now when?”

“
I’ll talk to Ashley and
find out when she’s pulling them up.”

“
Good. My mother didn’t grow
sweet potatoes when I was growing up. I think they’re my new
favorite.”

“
What happened to my
cornbread?”

He pecked her nose. “Right after your
cornbread.”

Plodding off to the kitchen, she
plucked the cornbread pan from the counter and toted it to the oven
for a re-heat. At least cooking gave her something to do other than
worry.

In the dark of night, Delaney heard the
metal click. She bolted upright, rousing a sleeping Nick who
muffled into the sheets by her side, “What’s up?”

“
I think Felicity’s home. I
heard the front door.”

“
Good. Now go back to
sleep.”

“
Good? I can’t sleep—I need
to know how it went.”

“
Can’t it wait until
morning?”

She whipped the blanket from her body,
swung her bare feet to the floor and said, “No, it can’t wait.” It
was all she could do to let Nick convince her to go to bed and
wait. Now that her daughter was home, she was finished waiting.
Tying her hair into a loose knot behind her head, Delaney padded to
her bedroom door. Peeking out through the crack of opening, her
heart caught. Felicity looked horrible. Distraught. Had she been
crying?

Delaney burst out of the room and
rushed to her side. “Felicity? What happened? Are you all
right?”

Her daughter turned, trapping Delaney
within the hot confines of an angry gaze. Up close, Felicity’s fair
skin was blotchy, mascara and shadow wiped from green eyes. No
longer soft as heather green suede, her eyes were hard, jaded. “Why
didn’t you tell me?”

Fear razored through Delaney’s lungs.
“Tell you what?” she asked, but she knew—with deadly precision—she
knew what Felicity meant.

“
Why didn’t you tell me my
father beat you and it’s the real reason you left him?”

Delaney felt like someone punched her.
Someone told her? Someone told Felicity the truth? But who—who
would have done such a thing? Victoria? Jack? Images of each and
every Foster filed through her brain, churned her heart with
disgust. What vile person would have delivered such news during a
friendly dinner?

“
It’s true, isn’t it? He
beat you up and you left him.”

Delaney didn’t want to relive the past.
She wanted to erase it. But with Felicity staring her down like a
criminal, she felt defenseless. “He hit me, yes.”

“
Why wouldn’t you tell me
something like that? Why would you let me go over to that house not
knowing what he was capable of?”

“
I didn’t want you to go,
Felicity. I tried to talk you out of it.”

“
Without giving me any
details!” she shrieked, whipping up a stiff finger between them.
“In one sentence you could have stopped me. You could have stopped
me in my tracks. Why didn’t you?”

Because you were hell bent on going?
Because I was afraid to hurt you? Regret poured into Delaney’s soul
like salt on an open wound. Because I didn’t tell you when I should
have and telling you now would have only resulted in this same
scene.

“
I can’t believe you!”
Felicity screeched, the intensity startling Delaney. She sounded
like a dying animal. “You let me believe a monster could be a
loving father! That his family could actually take me in with
loving arms... How could you do that to me? Where was the
overprotective mother when I needed her?”

Delaney stood as though
naked and vulnerable, each accusation lodging deeper than the last.
Her final words hurt the worst.
Because
they were true
. Delaney had spent
Felicity’s entire childhood watching over her like a mother bear,
scraping the flesh from anyone who dared hurt her daughter, even
look at her wrong. Visions of Clem Sweeney and his threats rose
sharp and raw in her mind. Delaney remembered the emotions
thrashing through her at the time. If that skunk had laid a hand on
Felicity Delaney would have killed him. Her guttural reaction would
have been instinctual, automatic. Yet she had allowed Felicity to
go in private with Jack. She had allowed the man to sink his claws
into her daughter, and as expected, the man drew blood. Standing
exposed in the headlights of her daughter’s wrath, Delaney
shriveled to nothing. She had no response. None that would
suffice.

“
You make me sick,” Felicity
hurled nastily. “You’re as big a monster as he is.” Felicity’s gaze
shot to the door behind Delaney, then speared her mother with one
last withering look. “I don’t think I can ever forgive you for
this.”

Delaney thrust out a shaky hand.
“Felicity—”

But her daughter was gone. Footsteps
pounded the stairs as she fled up to the loft, each one a hammer to
her chest. Delaney hugged arms to her body, suddenly cold. Large
masculine arms encircled her in a soft embrace. “Let her go. She
needs time to cool down.”

Standing rigid against the warm body of
her husband, her life crumbled around her. “She hates me,” Delaney
whimpered, her throat nearly closed. Tears filled her eyes. “My
daughter hates me.”

Nick dropped his face to rest on her
head. Hot breath mumbled into her hair, “No she doesn’t. She’s
angry. She’ll get over it.”

Delaney’s eyes shot to the ceiling, the
loft, her daughter’s safe haven—a safe haven unnervingly similar to
one her mother Susannah had sought all those years ago. Abuse,
violence. Callous disregard for others. It seemed inescapable.
“That family stole her security, her peace of mind.”

“
You don’t know what
happened. Let’s reserve judgment until we get all the
facts.”

“
I don’t need any more
facts.” A well of fury gurgled from deep within. “Jack did this to
her.”

“
Life did this to
her.”

Delaney’s heart hardened. “Jack will
rue the day he ever tried to lure her back in the Foster
fold.”

“
She’s a big girl. She’ll
deal with him.”

With ramrod determination, Delaney
said, “Right after I deal with him first.”

Chapter Twelve

Delaney was up and out of the house
before sunrise. No sense wasting time in bed. She couldn’t sleep,
might as well do something useful. Besides, when stressed, there
was no better place for her than the stables, spending time with
her Palomino, Sadie. Standing in her stall, Delaney brushed the
blonde coat of her horse, the movements releasing the earthy musty
fragrance of her animal. Mixed with the sweet scent rising from the
hay-covered floor, the combination provoked a visceral reaction, a
deeply-rooted pleasure. Delaney had been around horses all her
life, practically riding before she’d walked.

It had been her mother’s doing.
Susannah Ladd loved the animals and like her, only rode bareback.
Walk or run, river or trail, it was a passion they shared, a
pastime they spent hours enjoying as mother and daughter. As
Delaney brushed, Sadie stood idle, her ears flicking forward and
back as though she were bored. Delaney grunted. Nice life, standing
around and getting stroked to her heart’s content while her owner
ruminated over what to do about the mess her ex-husband had
made.

Felicity was upset, angrier than
Delaney had ever seen her. She lost her temper so seldom Delaney
couldn’t remember the last time. Felicity was the calm one. She was
sensible, quiet. Of the two of them, she was the level-headed one.
Seeing Felicity riled up to the point of losing control—shouting,
crying—Delaney had been shocked. Not only by the words her daughter
had spoken but the intensity with which she’d said them. Stroking a
hand over the enormous belly, Delaney shook her head. Maybe the
girl was more like her than she thought!

“
God love the smell of
horses.”

Delaney flinched at the sound of Nick’s
deep voice. She hadn’t heard him approach, though half-expected as
much. When he was in town, the two shared a cup of coffee amidst
the horses in the quiet of morning. It was a ritual she had come to
love. After last night’s episode, he’d know she’d need company.
“It’s glorious, isn’t it? Nice and stinky.”

He chuckled. “I need to get you out of
here and soon. You’re losing your sense for the finer fragrances in
life.”

Her hand stopped mid-motion and she
turned. It was a razz he’d begun soon after he met her,
continuously commenting on her affinity for her horse as though
Sadie were human, and more important to Delaney than him. Far as
Delaney was concerned, it was a close call. “What? Don’t you like
the smell of a good stinky horse?” Sadie shook her mane, rolling
her head back to face him.

Leaning against a post, Nick screwed
his expression. “Unfortunately, I have to admit that I do. Better
when combined with the rich scent of expensive leather. Which
reminds me, I bought you a new pair of chaps.”

Delaney rolled her eyes and went back
to her brushing. She followed the brush with her free hand, soothed
by the solid muscular feel of the animal beneath her touch. “I’m
not in the mood.”

“
Well, you should be. A good
roll in the hay might relax you.”

She grunted in response.

Pushing free, Nick strode over to her.
“C’mon. You’ve got to calm down and think straight. You had a fight
with your daughter. It happens.”

Gliding her palm over the round of
Sadie’s rear end, she said, “Not to us, it doesn’t.”

“
Happens to everyone
eventually. It’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

Pausing, Delaney looked up at him, glad
for the quiet strength emanating from his dark eyes. Combined with
his dark hair and tanned skin, his six-foot four stature, his were
eyes that exuded calm and wisdom. Eyes that could also blaze with
fire and temper. Right now, she needed the former. “You heard her,
she hates me.”

“
She doesn’t hate you. That
girl doesn’t have a hateful bone in her body.”

“
She does now.”

“
She doesn’t.” Nick grabbed
hold of Delaney’s hand, pulling it from Sadie. Turning her within
his arms, he brushed the hair from her face, curved a finger under
her chin. Gaze darting back and forth across hers, he said, “She
loves you. She’ll come around when she’s ready. Give her
time.”

Delaney wanted to believe him. She
wanted it with all her heart. Last night had been miserable.
Felicity was her whole world. To hear her spit venom and spite was
painful. Her accusations were white-hot daggers through the chest,
especially because they were true. This was partly her fault.
Mostly Jack’s, but partly hers. If she had been honest with her
daughter, none of this would have happened.