Barefoot in the Rain (45 page)
No, Zoe loved the unexpected surprises of Oliver’s face. Thick, bottlebrush black lashes that feathered out to the sides when he grinned at her. The muscle in his neck that flexed and tightened when he leaned in to kiss her. The tenor and depth of his voice when he whispered in her ear, the jolt of music when he laughed at her jokes, the way he closed his shuttered eyes right before they kissed as if he were just about to taste a fine French wine.
His eyes were open now, though, and slicing right through her. “You’re here.” She had to hand it to him. The
man could pack a punch with just two words. Two words.
Turn around. You’re here.
Everything’s changed.
Yeah, let’s not forget those two words. Followed by
good-bye.
“How is the baby?”
For a minute she couldn’t imagine what he was talking about. That was the thing about Oliver. He made Zoe forget her train of thought, her vows of secrecy, her life plans.
“I assume mother and child are thriving?”
Oh,
that
baby. The one he’d delivered last night. “He’s… perfect. Just, yeah. You left quickly and Lacey wanted to thank you.”
A shadow of disappointment darkened his eyes, gone almost before she could see it. “Is that why you’re here?”
She could say yes and be done with this. She had an excuse, and he’d never have to know her real reason.
But then she couldn’t have the one thing she wanted most in the world.
Damn it, why did he have to have the power? Why him, of all people?
She blew out a breath, trying to remember a single word of the speech she’d practiced all the way across the causeway. Nothing. The queen of the smart-ass comeback had been rendered wretchedly wordless.
“It was no big deal,” he said after a few too many seconds had passed. “I’ve done a few emergency deliveries in my career.” Then he took a step closer, dipping his head almost imperceptibly, searching her face. “Zoe?”
“Oliver, you are one of two people in the world who knows the truth about me.”
It was his turn to blink, silent.
“And once you said you’d do anything for me.”
He had to work to swallow, no doubt remembering that he’d broken that promise a few minutes after he’d made it. Or maybe he didn’t even remember what he’d said that day they took the balloon ride. Maybe he’d forgotten his promises once he’d heard the truth.
No
maybe
about it.
“Do you remember saying that, Oliver?” she pressed.
“Of course.” He crossed his arms, his power stance. “What do you need, Zoe?”
She took a slow breath, ready to jump. “My great-aunt, Pasha, is sick. Really, really sick. You know that she… she can’t exactly sally forth through the health-care system because she…”
Is a criminal
. “Can’t.”
He just stared at her.
“I need you to treat her. And never report it to anyone, ever.”
His eyes narrowed as her demand sank in. “You’re asking me to—”
“Do something illegal, yes. I know you are a big, important, successful doctor who shouldn’t take any legal risks because that would possibly hurt your amazing, booming practice, but I don’t care, Oliver, because after—”
“Stop.” He was in front of her in one step, already touching too much of her, one hand on her shoulder, stroking her arm, the other finding its way under her hair, palming her head. Her knees buckled as she braced for a kiss.
“Will you?” she asked, determined to get her yes before… anything else.
He was close enough for her to feel his breath and the beating of his heart. “How could I do that?”
“How? Quietly. Secretly. Under the table, off the books, and away from the prying eyes of your witchy staff.” She raised her chin, hating that he could feel her tremble. Let him think it was because she wanted his help, and not because every cell in her was screaming for him. For his mouth. For his body. For what they’d once had.
Before he knew the truth about her.
That stopped the trembling in its tracks. “That’s how you could do it,” she finished. “And you will. Because you owe me, Oliver Bradbury. You owe me.”
“I don’t know if I can—”
“You
will
.”
“—be with you and not…
be
with you.”
She almost melted again, this time into his arms. She tried to inch away, but he held her with complete command.
“I think you have a wife for that kind of thing,” she said, lifting her chin but refusing to meet his gaze. “I just need a doctor, the only one on earth who can and will treat my aunt without reporting her to the authorities.”
He just shook his head.
“Oliver!” She pushed his chest, fueled by frustration. “You have to!”
“I’ll do what I can,” he said vaguely, easing her closer in a move that was intimate and natural and
wrong
. “Within certain parameters.”
“So much for the Hippocratic oath.” She glanced down at the way his fingers stroked her arm, already taking ownership and pushing boundaries. “Look, I need what you have, Doc, but even if you weren’t married, I’d fuck
Satan before I got in bed with you. I’d stick nails in my eyes, cut off my fingers, climb into fire, and hang naked from a tree before I ever—”
“I’m not.”
She froze. “You’re not asking for sex?”
“I’m not married anymore.”
Oh.
Oh
.
“Our divorce was final a few days ago.”
“I just saw her outside.”
“She dropped…” He inched back, paling ever so slightly. “Something off.”
A strange white heat rolled over her. “You’re divorced?”
Which somehow made this all even scarier. Because without his wife, then she might—
“Zoe.” He eased her closer, his touch gentle and wicked at the same time. How did he do that? “I’ve missed you.”
Deep down, something unholy and far too familiar started to burn, a heat only Oliver Bradbury could generate.
Oh, Lord,
no
. She
wouldn’t
. No one could be that stupid twice.
Except, this was for Aunt Pasha? The woman who had given up her entire life to ensure that the helpless, joyless, terrified, ten-year-old Bridget Lessington disappeared from the face of the earth and got a new life?
We’ll call you Zoe. It means a new life.
And now Pasha needed a new life, and this man, despite the pain he’d caused her, despite the rejection, betrayal, and hurt, this man could give Pasha a new life. So Zoe would pay whatever price he asked.
With her body, of course, but not her heart. Never her heart.
Where authors give you the inside scoop!
Dear Reader,
I’ve been startled, as well as delighted, by all the positive comments I’ve received regarding the deep male friendship—the “bro-mance”—among my four heroes in the Return of the Highlanders series. If my portrayal of male camaraderie rings true at all, I must give some credit to my younger brother, who always had a gang of close friends running in and out of our house. (This does
not
, however, excuse him for not calling me more often.)
Looking back, I admire how accepting and utterly at ease these boys were with each other. On the other hand, I am amazed how they could spend so much time together and not talk—or talk only very briefly—about trouble in their families, divorces, or other important things going on in their lives. They were always either eating or having adventures. To this bookish older sister, they seemed drawn to danger like magnets. And I certainly never guessed that the boys who shot rubber bands at me from behind the furniture and made obnoxious kissy noises from the bushes when I went out on dates had anything
useful
to teach me.
Yet I’m sure that what I learned from them about how male friendships work helped me create the bond among my heroes in the Return of the Highlanders. These four
Highland warriors have been close companions since they were wee bairns, have fought side by side in every battle, and have saved each other’s lives many times over. Naturally, they are in each others’ books.
Ever since Duncan MacDonald’s appearances in
The Guardian
and
The Sinner
, readers have been telling me how anxious they are for Duncan’s own book because they want to see him find happiness at last. We all love a tortured hero, don’t we? And if any man deserves a Happily Ever After, it’s Duncan. In truth, I feel guilty for having made him wait.
Duncan, in THE WARRIOR (available now), is a man of few words, who is honorable, steadfast, and devoted to duty. With no father to claim him, he’s worked tirelessly to earn the respect of his clan through his unmatched fighting skills. His only defeat was seven years ago, when he fell hard for his chieftain’s beautiful, black-haired daughter, a lass far beyond his reach.
He never expected to keep Moira’s love past that magical summer before she wed. Yet he accepts that his feelings for her will never change, and he gets on with his duties. When he and his friends return to the Isle of Skye after years spent fighting in France, every stone of his clan’s stronghold still reminds him of her.
Moira’s brother, who is Duncan’s best friend and now chieftain, is aware that Duncan loves her, though they never speak of it. (Thanks to my brother and his friends, I do know it’s possible for them to not talk about this for seven years.) When the chieftain hears that Moira may be in danger, he turns to the man he trusts most.
The intervening years have not made Moira trusting nor forgiving, and the sparks fly when this stubborn pair reunites. After the untimely death of her abusive husband,
these star-crossed lovers must survive one dangerous adventure after another. They will find it even more daunting to trust each other and face the hard truths about what happened seven years ago.
I hope you enjoy the romance between this Highland warrior and his long-lost love—and that my affection for the troublesome boys who grow up to be the kind of men we adore shines through in the bro-mance.
I love to hear from readers! You can find me on Facebook, Twitter, and my website,
www.MargaretMallory.com
.
Dear Reader,
Have you ever wished you could step into someone else’s life? Leave behind your own past with its problems and become someone entirely different?
I’m pretty sure everyone has felt that way at times. When you think about it, the tale of Cinderella is such a story at its essence.
When I was in college, I saw a film called
The Return of Martin Guerre,
starring the great French actor Gérard Depardieu. It was actually based on true events in medieval France. A man has gone off to war but then stays gone for over a decade, essentially abandoning his wife.
One day, though, he does return. The good news is that, whereas the guy had previously been a heartless jerk, now he is caring and kind. The wife takes him back, and they are happy. The bad news is that eventually it is discovered that the man is not who he claims to be. He is an impostor.
Ever since I saw that movie, I have loved stories with this theme. One thing I’ve noticed is that so often in these tales, the impostor is actually a better human being than the person he or she is pretending to be. In the case of
Martin Guerre
, Gérard’s character
wants
the life and the responsibilities the other man has intentionally left behind. The movie was remade in America as
Sommersby,
starring Richard Gere and Jodie Foster. Richard Gere’s character grows and
becomes
a better man over the course of the events in the film. He does more for the family and community than the real Sommersby ever would have done.
Please note that a sad ending is not necessarily required! There are lighthearted versions of this tale as well. Remember
While You Were Sleeping,
a romantic comedy starring Sandra Bullock? Once again, she was a better person than the woman she was pretending to be, and she was certainly too good for her fiancé, the shallow man she thought she was in love with. In the end, her decency and kindness won over everyone in the family. They were all better off because she had come into their lives, even though she had initially been untruthful about who she was. And—what’s most important for fans of romance!—true love won out. While Sandra had initially been starry eyed over her supposed fiancé, she came to realize that it was actually his brother who was the right man for her.
The idea for AN HEIRESS AT HEART grew out of my love for these stories about someone stepping into another person’s shoes. Lizzie Poole decides to take on another person’s
identity: that of her half-sister, Ria, whom she had no idea existed until they found each other through an extraordinary chain of events.
Lizzie is succeeding in her role as Ria Thornborough Somerville, a woman who has just been widowed—until she falls in love with Geoffrey Somerville, the dead husband’s brother. And aside from the fact that it would have been awkward enough to explain how you had suddenly fallen in love with your brother-in-law, in England at that time it was actually illegal: The laws at that time prevented people from marrying their dead spouse’s sibling. So Lizzie is left in a quandary: She must either admit the truth of her identity, or forever deny her love for Geoffrey.
In a cute movie called
Monte Carlo,
a poor girl from Texas (played by Selena Gomez) impersonates a rich and snobbish Englishwoman. During her week in that woman’s (high-priced, designer) shoes, she actually ends up helping to make the world just a bit better of a place—more so than the selfish rich girl ever would have done. She finds a purpose in life and—bonus!—true love as well.
Maybe I’m so fascinated by these stories because of the lovely irony that, in the end, each character actually discovers their
true
self. They find more noble aspects of themselves than they ever realized existed. They discover that who they
are
is better than anyone they could
pretend
to be. They learn to rise up to their own best natures rather than to simply be an imitation of someone else.
As the popular saying goes, “Be yourself. Everyone else is taken.”
