The Billioniare's Bought Bride (Contemporary Romance) (16 page)

“That would be great. You have a nice day.”

Dylan loosened his grip and replaced the handset. She’d known she was pregnant when she’d left.

He understood now. She didn’t trust him, didn’t trust him with their child. In her mind, he’d used her. He collapsed back against the chair, not caring if Carl saw him in a rare moment of weakness. After what he’d done, he wouldn’t have given himself another chance, either. How did a man fix such a huge mistakes?  “Look everywhere again,” he told Carl brusquely. “We must have missed something. Find her.”

Outside the window, the Knollwood lakeshore was frozen solid. Maddy pressed her hand against the cold glass of Aunt Gail’s cottage, watching as the snow whirled over the frozen water and the drifts battered two ice fishing huts some enterprising and brave souls had built.

So this was what Knollwood Lake looked like around the start of December. It was beautiful, in a primitive sort of way. In a few weeks, she’d spend Christmas alone, talking and singing to her baby. After reading a few chapters of one of those what to expect books,
she’d tossed it aside. The last thing she needed in the quiet was to imagine that all her normal symptoms were potentially dangerous, especially when she couldn’t get out to see a doctor. She’d hidden her car in an old pole barn on the Lawless acres about two hundred yards away. In zero degree weather, any trek was dangerous. And even if she could avoid freezing and reach the place where the Lawless family had once stored their sailboat, the six inches of fresh white powder last night meant Maddy was effectively snowed in.

So she’d browsed the literary classics Aunt Gail had on her shelf. She’d listened to the radio and worked on a cross-stitch her great aunt had left behind. The cottage didn’t have a TV and Maddy had to admit she was going a little stir crazy.  If it hadn’t been for Melvin delivering groceries last week in his big four-wheel drive SUV, she’d have starved.

The wind rattled the glass panes, and Madison stepped back. Unlike Summerhaven, which was battened down and without heat, Aunt Gail’s cottage had been built for use during the winter, and so far her pipes and electricity had held.

“Thank you Aunt Gail,” Madison whispered. She’d had the foresight before she died to tell Jonathan that if Madison requested use of the cottage, to allow it, no questions asked.
When Madison asked Jonathan and Jake not to tell Dylan where she was, they’d both agreed, although she could tell they didn’t agree with her choice.

But their silence kept her safe. And so far she’d been correct in predicting that Dylan wouldn’t search for her here.

She tossed a log in the
wood-burning
stove. Although the cabin had central heat, she liked the stove better and Melvin had provided a stash of chopped wood out on the enclosed porch. In addition to bringing her groceries, he checked on her daily as he made his rounds as caretaker. A forty-something Scandinavian man of few words who minded his own business, Madison trusted him not to tell Dylan her whereabouts. She knew he
hadn’t, otherwise her husband would have shown up by now.

She touched her stomach, although it would be at least another week before she could feel the baby move. She’d lost weight, but that was to be expected when you had morning sickness. Madison sat on the sofa and picked up the cross-stitch. 

In the privacy of the cottage she’d raged, she’d cried, and she’d mourned, and all this time later she hadn’t changed her mind. She’d call a lawyer tomorrow. Even if it meant losing her beloved land, it was time to move on. She had the future to consider.

“Still nothing,” the investigator said. 

Dylan paced his office. Christmas was a few days away, but he could care less about holiday spirit. How did someone just disappear in this day of modern technology? “This is ridiculous. I can buy and sell multimillion dollar companies but I can’t find my wife.”

“Yeah, boss, I know.” Carl shifted his weight and fidgeted. “I even went back up to Wisconsin. Everything up there for miles sits under three feet of snow. Except for daily visits by the caretaker, there isn’t anyone there.  His are the only tire tracks. I can’t even reach the guy. He’s never there when I call him, and he doesn’t have a cell phone. Can you believe that? I got a hold of his wife, Cindy, but she wasn’t any help. I even checked the phone records. The phone hasn’t been used.”

“What about the cottage?”

“Star?” Carl snorted. “The one you sold? Unless you take an airboat ride across the ice, you can’t get to the island. The lake’s frozen solid. Star’s dark, and the Big Island is shut down as well. Acres and acres of dark buildings all locked up for winter.”

“Damn it, but she couldn’t have just vanished without a trace.”

“I don’t know. She got family or friends you don’t know about?”

“No.” Dylan shook his head. “She’s not close to anyone. Not even her brother.” 

“I checked with him again. He hasn’t seen her, and he’s too busy covering his butt with the SEC to be hiding his sister.”

Dylan pounded his fist on his desk, sending his pencil holder and its contents flying.  “Damn.”

“I’m heading down to St. Louis tomorrow to see if I can pick up a trail there. I have to have missed something.”

“Let me know how it goes,” Dylan said. He put his head into his hands after Carl left. The blackness wasn’t soothing and his temples throbbed with the migraine that had become a constant visitor since Maddy’s disappearance.

His secretary knocked on the door. “Mr. Blackwater?  I’m sorry to disturb you. Delivery. You must sign personally.”

“Send it in.” Dylan straightened as the uniformed courier entered. Dylan signed, took the envelope and sliced it open. 

The first thing he saw was Madison’s name jumping out at him. He scanned the rest of the letter and leafed through the legal documents. He’d just been served divorce papers.

Dylan absorbed the implications in stunned silence. He’d been mistaken in believing he’d hit rock bottom. He retrieved the lawyer’s business card and read the address.

He’d never seen his fingers actually shake before, but each digit was a vibrating object as he buzzed his secretary. He knew where Maddy was.

“Reschedule everything for the next two days.  I’m going north.”

His secretary didn’t miss a beat, which was why he paid her so well. “Done.”

“Get,” he read the lawyer’s name off, “Tony Tosco on the line.”

He rattled off a number and leaned back and waited. Within moments he heard, “Tony Tosco.”

“Tony, Dylan Blackwater. I understand you are representing Madison Blackwater?”

“I am.” The man’s nasal voice irked.

“I want to talk to my wife.”

“Mr. Blackwater,” the lawyer began as if accustomed to irate husbands. “Your wife has been more than generous. She’s given up her share of the Summerhaven property, including the access strip, and she’s given up her stake in the five million dollar settlement you both received from her brother. She’s not even asking for maintenance or any of your wages, which I’ve told her she’s entitled to. She just wants out of your marriage and to be left alone.”

“I’m not signing these,” Dylan shouted. He calmed himself. “I will sign nothing until I talk to my wife.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Blackwater, that’s why she hired me. I will be very happy to convey any message but I must advise you to contact your attorney. You’ll discover that you stand to lose much more if you don’t sign her generous offer. She’s asked for nothing. In fact, I would—”

Dylan slammed the phone down. As if he gave a damn about money. He had more than he knew what to do with, even if Maddy took more than half.

Being a prince with all the riches in the world meant nothing without his princess. He’d become a pauper if it meant having her back by his side. He grabbed his heavy coat
and strode from the office. He had a journey to make.

Dylan’s SUV crunched up the snow covered driveway of Summerhaven. He parked the vehicle and got out, the icy wind slapping him in the face as if Mother Nature herself was angry with him.

Well, she wouldn’t be the only one, Dylan thought. On the drive up he’d discovered he was pretty angry with himself as well. The lawyer’s address had been in Rice Lake. That meant there were only two places Maddy could be.

The lodge still remained tightly locked up for the winter, and he took out a key and opened the padlock holding the outer wooden door closed. The door creaked from lack of use, and Dylan strode thorough the porch and unlocked the door to the kitchen.

The lodge was cold and dark, and as Dylan walked through it, memories assaulted him. This was Stephen’s house, and if Dylan signed divorce paperwork, Summerhaven would be his. How wrong he’d been. Owning this property wouldn’t make him happy.

He went from room to room, noting an occasional mouse dropping. He’d have to remind Melvin to set some more traps.

Then again, without Maddy, who cared what happened to the building? To Dylan, this lodge and its occupants had always been a symbol of old money, the thing he’d never be. It had represented white Anglo-Saxon protestant aristocracy and summer cottages, making clear the differences between society’s haves and have-nots.

But Maddy had been different. She’d never cared about his skin, or his family heritage. Except for the moment she’d disowned him to save her land, that summer he’d met her, she’d always viewed him with respect.

She’d loved him with the purest heart.

He’d taken that gift and tarnished it.

As he stood there in the semi-darkness, the way he viewed the lodge changed. The lodge became a symbol of hope, of love.

He’d first shared a bed here with Maddy. Even then, he could now see she that she’d loved him for
who
he was, not
what
he was. She’d always loved him, even when hating him when she’d believed he’d caused her grandfather’s death.

He’d been a fool not to realize what he’d had, a fool to let a determination to fulfill useless vows get in the way of true happiness.

He groaned aloud, his breath forming a misty cloud in front of him. He’d had everything he ever wanted. Summerhaven was nothing without her.

His boots clicked over the wood floor as he left. He shut the inner door, and after locking it, he secured the outer door.

The wind again attacked, and he hurried to the residual warmth of the SUV. He’d left the vehicle idling so that the engine didn’t freeze up. He backed up slightly. One more place to check, the place that he expected her to be.

Instead of turning left for the direct route to the main road, he went straight, down the narrow, little used lane that circled by Aunt Gail’s cabin.

He could see the light green cottage through the bare trees, and he slowed. There was smoke coming from the chimney. She was there, she had to be. His fingers tightened on the steering wheel. He wanted to whoop with joy, and run in and kiss her.
Part of him also wanted to go in there, guns blazing, and demand she return home.
But he knew those tactics wouldn’t work. Anger would not win his wife back to his side.

He climbed slowly out the car and went to face her.

Madison let the curtain slide back in place. She exhaled, unaware that she’d been holding her breath. Dylan was walking toward the cottage, his boots crunching over the compacted snow.  

How did one prepare for the arrival of the man you’d loved and left? She heard the door to the glassed-in porch open, and then footsteps on the wooden floor. She opened the door before he knocked, stopping his glove-covered hand mid-air.

“Maddy,” he said, his breath visible in the cold.

“Come in. Don’t let the heat out.” She backed away from him. Dylan stepped into kitchen, his boots heavy on the welcome mat.

“Should I take them off?” he asked, eyeing her floor.

“You won’t be here that long,” she said, her gaze roving over him faster than a thirsty man spying much-needed water. Despite her resolve, she found she’d missed him.

He’d changed. There were dark circles under his eyes, and those obsidian orbs didn’t seem nearly as sharp or bright as they’d once been. His hair was longer, wilder, as if he wasn’t worried about social conventions. His demeanor seemed haggard, as if he hadn’t slept in months. A few wayward pieces of snow melted onto his wool trench coat.

Her heart cried out to him, but Maddy had learned to use her head. She would not let emotions rule. “Why are you here, Dylan?”

“I could ask you the same question. It’s taken me quite a while to find you.”

“I didn’t plan on being found.”

His voice notched up as if the past few months had taken a huge toll. “And that’s love? Walking out without a word? Did you ever consider that I might have thought you’d been kidnapped?”

The words sliced through her. In her quest to escape him, she’d never considered
that angle. Still, she couldn’t let his anguish affect her. Like him, she’d made her choices and they couldn’t be undone. She knew what she’d done had hurt. Pain and regret had become her constant companions.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “But hindsight is twenty-twenty and it doesn’t change the present. Since you’re here, I’m assuming you received the divorce papers?”