The Legacy (8 page)

His recuperation was coming along nicely, but in a call to Amarillo he had learned it wasn’t safe for him to leave SwanSea—too many people were still looking for him. And in a call to his great-grandmother, he had promised her that he would continue his search.

How much longer could he stay here without losing his sanity? He’d had many opportunities over the last few days to watch Caitlin from afar. He’d envied every man at whom she’d smiled. He’d been jealous of anyone with whom she’d spoken. And worst of all, as he lay in bed every night, the knowledge that she was in her room just down the hall chafed at him until he felt raw.

His desire for her had grown daily until he’d almost become used to the pain. That day in the attic had nearly been his undoing. Since then, a lot of his time had been taken up with remembering the way the tantalizing scent of her skin could wind around a man’s body until he thought he’d suffocate if he didn’t have her.

He had to stay away from her.

“Nico?”

His head jerked around as she made her way along a path between flower beds newly readied for planting. At the sight of her, his body tensed and his chest began to hurt.

Nearing him, she nervously smoothed her damp palms down the full skirt of her sleeveless jade-green sundress. “You’re a hard man to track down,” she said.

He sensed her unease, but he couldn’t smile easily to reassure her, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Her sudden and unexpected presence had heightened and intensified the aching pain he’d felt these last days—and the sensation was the difference between holding his hands toward a fire and feeling its warmth, and thrusting his arms into the fire.

He came to his feet. “Was there something in particular you wanted to see me about?”

“Yes. We’ve had some trouble up at the house and—”

“Trouble?" Alarm turned his muscle to steel.

She eyed him warily. “I’m afraid so. We have no electricity." She shrugged, trying for nonchalance. “I’m not sure what happened. Something blew something. The electrician will be out first thing in the morning. Tonight, though, and maybe for a few days to come, it will be candlelight. I thought you should know.”

He exhaled slowly. “Thank you. I appreciate your coming to tell me.”

“No trouble,” she said shortly and laced her fingers together. “I needed to check out what they’ve done in here anyway, and it looks like they’re making real headway. I see they've carted away the debris, replaced the broken panes, and cleaned the windows. TheyH probably start on the fountain next." She shrugged awkwardly. “Well, I need to get back. I’ve got work waiting for me.”

An inexplicable panic seized him, and he anxiously searched for something to keep her with him a little longer. “I’ve never seen anything quite like this building. What exactly is it used for, anyway?” She was pleased by the genuine interest in his tone. “Originally, it was built to be an indoor garden for people to stroll through, to rest in, to read in— anything, really. But there have been wonderful parties here, and I can guarantee you, there will be again.”

His appreciation for the confidence and joy she felt in the great house of SwanSea was newfound. But his pleasure at simply being near her was an ancient, primitive reaction.

There was a tightrope he’d had to walk for many years. Often he’d had difficulties. But he’d never had to remember to keep his balance as he did now. “You plan to rent it out for private functions?”

She nodded. Without her being aware, the subject of SwanSea had given her pale, stiff features a lovely animation. “Yes. And I think it would be perfect for the hotel’s regular afternoon tea, with a pianist playing Gershwin and Porter. Or for special dinner parties or events . . . The possibilities are endless.” Her excitement over her plans flushed her skin with luminosity, and Nico decided he’d never seen anyone quite so exquisite and desirable. The sun had been lowering In the sky while they talked, so that the golden light appeared silken and tinted with crimson. To lie down in the light and make love with Caitlin would be the ultimate sensual experience.

“The conservatory has always reminded me of a glass castle,” she was saying. “Doesn’t it you?”

His mouth twisted with humor. “That wouldn’t have been my first thought, no. ”

Caitlin’s gaze went to his mouth, and she was forcibly reminded that her attraction for him was as strong as ever. But unfortunately nothing else had changed either, and the fact that they’d managed to talk companionably for a few minutes didn’t alter the fact that she meant nothing to him.

She swallowed against a dry throat. “It looks like some sort of iron and glass fantasy to me. The weblike ironwork appears so delicate, yet it supports all of that glass. Using structural ironwork as part of the decoration of a building was a trademark of Art Nouveau.”

Good, he thought—a topic that would take his mind off the desire building inside him. “I guess you're an expert on the period. ”

“It’s part of my heritage, just like DiFrenza’s must be part of yours, even though you don’t work there.” “I suppose so,” he said, unaware that she’d managed to change the focus. “It’s true I never developed an affinity for the clothing business, but I did work in the store every summer when I was in school.” He grinned slightly. “It made my family happy.”

“What sort of jobs did you have?”

“All sorts. I even learned to dress windows.” “Really?”

“Really,” he said huskily, “and I also learned fabrics. For instance, I could tell you what your dress is made of.” He paused as he realized what he was about to say and do, and then he plunged on. “But I’d have to feel the material.”

“All right,” she said as a tremor began within her.

Two of his fingers slid beneath the edge of the scooped-out neckline and touched her skin as he grasped the shimmery material of her sundress. The sudden heat from the contact made her gasp.

He heard her and experienced a corresponding quickening. The tactile sensation of her skin and the soft material made him linger, rubbing the material back and forth between his thumb and fingers. He was torturing himself, he thought, but he couldn’t stop. “It’s a silk linen blend,” he murmured.

Caitlin had come to life at his touch. Her pulses were racing, her senses whirling. But no matter what, she knew she couldn't betray what she was feeling. Not this time. She managed to indicate he was right with a slight nod.

With more care than was warranted, he withdrew his hand. “Very pretty.”

“Thank you.” Her pounding heart sounded in her ears. She moved a few steps away from him and gave the fountain her complete attention. “You know,” she said casually, “I don’t think you ever told me what type of law practice you have.”

He gave a brief prayer of thanks that she hadn’t been looking when she asked the question. Otherwise, she would have seen him go rigid. “I’m a criminal lawyer."

She risked a glance over her shoulder. “That must be interesting."

“It’s a job. ”

She contemplated his terse remark, running her hand over the cool marble of the fountain. Nico didn’t strike her as the kind of man who would enter a profession about which he didn’t care passionately. Otherwise, like his father and sister, he would simply have gone into the family business.

She turned back to him. “But you must enjoy it. You did have other options.”

“Not really.” He looked away. His fingers still tingled as he remembered the feel of her skin. “Caitlin . . “Yes?”

He gripped his bottom lip with his teeth until all the color had been squeezed from the flesh. Then and only then did he trust himself to speak. “Did Ramona tell you what time supper would be?” Instinct told her that his Inquiry about supper had been an afterthought, but instinct also told her not to probe. He knew as well as she that Ramona would serve him whenever he showed up. “Around seven. Are you hungry?”

He returned his gaze to her, and his throat constricted at the sight she made in the gathering dusk, her cinnamon hair a vivid contrast to the jade-green dress. “Yes,” he murmured softly. “Yes.” He cleared his throat, taking a moment to get himself together. “I am hungry, but I can wait. I think I'll go back to the house, though, and wash up.”

“I have to get back too. I’ll walk with you. ”

They moved at the same time and bumped against each other. The contact was minimal, but the result was magnified by their charged state.

Nico pulled a deep lungful of air into his body, attempting to clear his mind. But the air was filled with sweetness—newly turned earth, orange blossoms, and the knee-weakening fragrance of the woman beside him. Nico closed his hand around her arm and pulled her against him. The taste of her mouth brought a growl from the back of his throat. He deepened the kiss, seeking the warmth and the heat that he had craved every minute of every day since he had last kissed her.

A violent tremor shook Caitlin. The passion of his kiss—the fire skimming along nerve endings, invading the lower part of her body—was heaven, was hell.

She wanted this man, and it would be sd easy to give in and surrender to where the kiss would lead. But there were too many things she didn’t understand. The memory of his rejection in the attic played like a warped record in the back of her mind.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have the strength to risk his rejection again. She did. But why should she?

And she could stand the pain she knew love sometimes brought. But only if she had a reason to accept that pain.

Crushed against his body, Caitlin could feel the power of his need for her, yet just days ago he had told her to stay away from him. That meant he didn’t
want
to want her.

But his mouth was devouring hers, and his hand was caressing her breast with urgency. She could conclude only that he wanted her in the same way he would want any reasonably attractive woman and that she meant nothing special to him. She had too much pride to allow any man to make love to her when his entire heart, mind, and soul were not involved. Heartsick, she pushed against him.

He felt her hands against his chest, but her resistance was slow to penetrate his raging need. Once his mouth had touched hers, control had vanished, and now his body was set and ready for just one thing—to make her his. He wanted her with a strength that involved every cell of his body.

When he finally realized something was wrong, he could hardly believe it. With an angry sound, he wrenched his mouth away from hers and brought his head up in one movement. His dark brows drew together in a scowl as he concentrated on reassembling the broken pieces of his willpower, and waiting for the pain that held his body in its grip to subside.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured. “It’s my fault.”

“What?” he asked, totally without comprehension.

“You told me to stay away from you. I should have sent someone else to find you. But I thought She’d thought she would be able to carry on a casual conversation and that if he touched her, she’d be able to hold back all signs of a response. She’d been wrong.

Nico’s mind cleared, and suddenly he saw what had happened. He had hurt her badly that day in the attic, but he’d been so caught up with his own agony, he hadn’t been able to see it.

Initially, he’d known that just by coming to Swan-Sea, he was taking advantage of her. In his world, right edged toward wrong, but the end always justified the means. He’d intended to get into the house, fulfill his promise to his grandmother, and then get out again without fuss or bother.

But the complications of the situation had been apparent from the start. He wasn’t sure if he had been too weak from his wounds to see the complications or if the impact of her green-gold eyes had made him ignore the truth. He also wasn’t sure why he now felt such an overwhelming need to protect her. But whatever the reason, he knew what he had to do.

“Caitlin, nothing is your fault.”

“But—”

He clasped her shoulder. “No, I mean it.
Nothing
is your fault. You were kind enough to let me stay here when I needed a place to rest and regain my

strength. I'm much better now, and I promise you I’ll leave as soon as I can make other arrangements."

She couldn’t keep the dismay from her voice. “You’re going to leave? But, Nico, is it really safe for you to leave so soon?”

Hell no, he thought, but it would be easier to face the type of danger Rettig and his men offered than risk. And he didn't dare risk the danger of hurting her—one more time. He dropped his hand to his side. “I’m better, Caitlin, and I need to leave.”

“Very well.” Her dignified bearing did not quite disguise the shakiness of her words. “You know what’s best for you. When you’ve made your plans, let me know.”

“I will.”

“Good. Ill se you back at the house.”

Unable to trust himself to speak, he nodded.

And then he was alone in the great iron-and-glass building, the silence and the emptiness engulfing him. Guilt weighed so heavily on him, and he had to sit down.

Sometime later, he heard the sound of someone softly weeping. The sound grew and grew until it rebounded through the conservatory, surrounding him, and he covered his ears.

“Rill? It’s Nico.”

“Hi. How are things?"

“My recovery is going fine."

“Uh-oh, I hear a
but
coming.”

“But I’ve got to leave here.”

Amarillo’s voice changed from laconic to tense in a split second. “Rettig?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s just that ... . Look, if you don’t want me to come back to Boston yet, make arrangements for me to stay at another safe place until I can.”

"Nico, I thought you were crazy when you told me you were going to try to get into SwanSea, but now that you’re there, it’s turned out to be perfect.”

“I’m glad you’re so satisfied with the situation,” Nico said, irritation making his words razor-edged. "I know the waiting is hard—”

“Hard,
Rill? It’s damned impossible.”

“Since when has impossible stopped you? And as long as you’re in a bad mood, I might as well tell you I faxed photos and rap sheets of Retting and his key people to the local police, just in case we’re right.” “Dammit, Rill! I told you from the start I didn’t want the local people in on this.”