“Very,” he said with a smile. “In fact, that's something you and I have in common.”
“It’s true. Although physically my family is pretty far-flung most of the time, we are very close.”
He hesitated, then proceeded carefully. “Except, apparently, for one member."
She looked puzzled. “Who?”
“Your father. I’ve been wondering about him.”
She shrugged. “I’ve never had one, except biologically of course.”
“What happened? Did he leave you and your mother when you were a baby?”
“Try before I was bom. It was a hit-and-run sort of affair. ”
He reached over and clasped her hand in his. “That sounds very bitter. Was it hard on you growing up without a father?”
“No, of course not. I couldn’t miss something I never had.”
“I’m not sure I believe that.”
She grimaced. “Well, to tell you the truth, I’m not sure I do either. But my mother suffered more than I did, though she never said anything.”
“Do you mind talking about this?”
“Not with you. I’ve never felt the stigma of being illegitimate. It wasn’t the badge of dishonor it was in grandfather’s day.”
“Then why did you and your mother live in such seclusion and isolation at SwanSea for the first six years of your life?”
“I think she needed those years to come to terms with what had happened. And we weren’t always alone. The family visited often.”
“And you loved having SwanSea all to yourself.” She flashed him a grin. “I did, but looking back on it, I can see that Mother was in pain. I guess that’s what I resent my unknown father for most— what he did to my mother.
Anyway,"
she said brightly, “that’s all in the past, and there’s something I’ve been wondering about that very much concerns the present.”
“What’s that?”
“Well, it’s obvious that you’re almost fully recovered now. ”
“I
am
recovered,” he said firmly.
She nodded. “Well, I've been thinking about your work and wondering how much longer you can stay.”
“Anxious to get rid of me?” he asked, mentally running through his situation. There was still the matter of Nathan Rettig. He was out there somewhere, searching for him. And then there was Quinn. He wasn’t about to leave Caitlin alone until he had figured out who Quinn was and what he wanted.
The wry face she made was an attempt to cover her self-consciousness. He’d told her he loved her, but he’d offered no commitment. “You know better than that.”
He stood, leaned across the table, and kissed her in full view of the other patrons. Then he sat back down and took her hand again. “I know your work is here and mine is in Boston. I’m not sure how, Caitlin, but we’ll work it out. There’s no way I’m letting you get away from me. No way.”
Until the real thing came along, she thought, she’d take that as a commitment. Reassured, Caitlin smiled, and when Tommy's mother set their ice-cream-ladened cobblers in front of them, she gave a carefree laugh. “This blows my plans to have fudge for dessert."
A half hour later, the warm afternoon breeze rippled the surface of the small deep-water harbor, making the masted sailboats bob and the water glisten like a black-green jewel. Robin’s-egg blue, sunshine-yellow, forest-green, and deep-red colors adorned the clapboard buildings with their steeply pitched roofs and their geranium-filled window boxes.
“The candy shop is just up ahead,” Caitlin said, her arm in Nico’s.
“How can you be interested in fudge after that lunch we just had?” He reached down and patted her flat stomach. “Where do you put it all?”
She laughed. “I’m not saying I want to eat the fudge now. But they sell fudge
to go."
She lifted her eyebrows in what was meant to be a significant manner.
He smiled indulgently. Caitlin in a playful mood had a way of melting away his problems. “Ah, I see.
To go."
“Right. We can get a bag and take it back with us. For
tonight."
“You and fudge,” he murmured. “I can hardly wait.”
In a show of mock dismay, she hit her forehead with the heel of her hand. “Oh, no! What am I going to do if you find out that you like the fudge better than you like me?”
The look he gave her was potent with love and wanting. “Not a chance.”
“You haven’t tasted this fudge yet,” she said softly.
“No, but I’ve tasted you. ”
“Taste me again,” she whispered, leaning against him.
He groaned and bent his head to brush her lips, then dip his tongue into her mouth.
“Let’s go home,” he murmured.
She felt a small thrill at the fact that he’d unconsciously referred to SwanSea as home. “We will as soon as we get our fudge. Besides, we’re here.”
“Here?"
“Here,” she said, motioning toward a large plate-glass window. “Look, he’s about to make a new batch.”
On the other side of the window, a pleasant-faced rotund man poured hot fudge onto a cool marble slab.
“That’s Paul McGruder,” she said, waving to the man. “He owns the shop.”
She leaned back against Nico, and he circled his arms around her waist. While they watched, Paul took up a scraper and began lifting the rich dark chocolate and folding it back on itself. He repeated the process again and again.
“Why do I think you’ve spent a lot of time in front of this window?" Nico asked, his mouth to her ear.
“1 have no idea why you would think that.” Her tone was innocent, but her expression was rapt.
As the fudge began to thicken, Paul reached for a handful of walnuts and sprinkled them over the glistening surface of the candy. Knowing that he had an audience, he performed his tasks with flourish, slicing through the nuts with the scraper to mix them into the fudge.
Images flowed across the plate-glass window— people strolling behind them along the harbor’s edge, the boats, a dog chasing a low-flying bird.
But it was Caitlin’s reflection that Nico studied in the glass, enjoying her delight in the candy making. Over the past days, he’d learned that there were many sides to her: the woman who was wild and passionate In his bed, the dreamer and the businesswoman who was bringing SwanSea back to life, the playful flirt, and now the little girl who loved to watch fudge being made.
He loved all the Caitlins.
“If we don’t go home immediately,” he whispered in her ear, "I’m going to make love to you right here.”
The next afternoon, Nico surveyed the attic room he had been methodically searching for the last two hours. Caitlin now knew what he was doing and why, but he wasn’t at all happy about his activities, and he’d made a vow to himself. There were more attic rooms, but this was the last he planned to go through.
He believed the rambling story Elena had told him; he’d made her a promise, and he’d tried to fulfill that promise to the best of his ability. But he owed Caitlin his loyalty. And this would be the last time he would dig through her family’s possessions. His investigation ended here.
Without enthusiasm, he knelt before yet another dusty trunk and inserted a pick into the old lock, gently manipulating the rusty mechanism until it sprang open. Lifting the lid, he delved into the contents.
Quilts, old letters, shoes, lace, odds and ends. He had pulled half the contents onto the floor when he saw the package. Wrapped in plain brown paper and tied with string, the package bore a postmark more than seventy years old.
“Oh, hell,” he murmured.
With the minimum of tearing and ripping, he slipped off the string and the paper, then let out a long shaky breath as he stared at the contents of the i package. “Oh,
hell,"
he said again, this time with force and meaning.
Reluctantly, he checked the entry in the Bible and scanned the marriage license. He’d found the proof Elena wanted.
For one wild moment, he was tempted to destroy it, he was so concerned about how Caitlin would take the news. They’d both become distracted last night, and he hadn’t had a chance to say everything he had planned to say.
Reason, plus loyalty and love for Elena, quickly reasserted themselves. The news would make Elena happy. Whatever other waves the news created, he vowed, he was going to move heaven and earth to make sure that nothing changed between him and Caitlin.
Slowly, he replaced the contents of the trunk along with the package, shut the lid, and went to find her.
“Hi,” Caitlin said, meeting Nico just outside her study. “I was coming to find you.”
"Through with your work?”
She nodded.
“Good, because—”
“Nico?” Ramona called, coming down the hall. “There's a phone call for you.”
“You can take it in my study,” Caitlin said. “I’ll wait for you in the drawing room.”
"No." He took her hand. “I don’t mind you being there.”
In the study, he picked up the phone. “Rill?” “Yeah. I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news. I’ve just been notified that two of Rettig’s men were spotted in your area.”
“Damn. ”
“Now listen. The local police may be first rate for all I know, and we’ll fill them in out of courtesy, but I want our people to handle this.”
“I agree.”
“Good. Stay put. Ill be there in—”
“Hold it. Let’s think this through before we jump the gun. If they've found me, why haven’t they acted?” “I don’t know,” Amarillo said tightly, “but if it will make you feel any better, I'll ask them right after I cuff them.”
Nico glanced at Caitlin and saw her gazing at him anxiously. He pulled her against him. “Give me tonight, Rill, and I’ll call you tomorrow. ” A long stretch of silence followed. “I mean it, Rill.”
“You’re taking a big chance, Nico.”
“I know, but I’m not the only one involved.”
“You mean Caitlin? We can protect her too.”
“We may have to, but I want more information before I make a decision. Something’s not right. Have you gotten that other information I wanted?” “Give me a call back in an hour. I should have it by then.”
“Good, because I’ll be basing my decision on it.” Nico hung up the phone and looked at her.
“What is it?”
He leaned back on the desk, pulled her between his outstretched legs, and began the story. “The name of the man I was investigating before he shot me is Nathan Rettig. I’ve just been told that two of his men have been spotted in the area. I have to assume they’ve tracked me here.”
“Nico, no—”
“Don’t worry. They’re obviously waiting for something. Perhaps Rettig himself. I’m something he wouldn’t want to leave to his minions. I’ve been able to heavily curtail his operation, although I haven’t been able to get anything to stick. I’m like a thorn in his side, and he wants me bad.”
“Maybe their being in the village is a coincidence,” she said, clutching at straws.
“There are no coincidences where Rettig and his men are concerned. If it’s not me that’s brought them to the village, it’s something to do with drug trafficking. Hell, for all I know, it could be both me and the drugs. But whatever the reason, I’ve got to find out.”
“Leave it alone, Nico. Let someone else go after him this time.”
He felt an incredible sadness as he met her troubled gaze. He knew he couldn’t do as she asked, and he didn’t even want to.
She read his thoughts and wrapped her arms around herself to still the shudder she could feel spreading in her. Nico in danger hadn’t been a reality to her before now.
His hand strayed to the side of her head and brushed a silky wave. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
“For what?" she asked, startled.
“For bringing danger into your safe world. I never meant to, you’ve got to believe me.”
“I do.”
“But you’re scared.”
“Yes,” she said in a small voice.
“It’s nothing to be ashamed of. When you’ve lived all your life in safety, it’s hard to cope with danger, except in the abstract. Try not to worry. I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure the danger doesn’t touch you.”
“And what are you going to do to protect yourself?” He smiled. “The same. Everything in my power. I don’t have a death wish, Caitlin. Especially now that I’ve found you.”
She felt her eyes fill with tears and blinked them away. “So what are your plans?”
“I should get out of here, but there’s someone here at SwanSea I don’t trust, and I’m too concerned about you to leave just yet.”
“Me?”
“Caitlin, it’s Quinn O’Neill.”
“Quinn?” she asked, surprised.
“He disturbs me. He seems to watch you all the time. But there are other things. For a retired man on vacation, he takes great care to blend into the woodwork. He watches, but he doesn’t want anyone watching him.”
“Maybe that's just his personality. ”
"I don’t think so. But in any case, I thought you should know. I’m having Rill, the man who just called, check him out right now. I’m only sorry I didn’t do it the first day Quinn came here.”
“Why didn’t you if you were suspicious?” “Because I was all tangled up with you,” he said huskily, “and I couldn’t be sure why my instincts were telling me to be on guard. I could have been just jealous of the man.”
“Oh, Nico.”
He put his arm around her, pressed his mouth to the top of her head, and breathed in the special scent that was Caitlin.
“Nico, I just thought of something!” She pulled away and looked up at him, her eyes wide with alarm. “When we met Quinn on the front veranda yesterday afternoon, he said the village hadn’t changed much except for a few coats of paint and the fact that the church was finished.”
“Go on.”
“Mr. Haines mentioned the other day that they built the church twenty-five or twenty-six years ago. That means that Quinn must have been here during that time.”
Nico nodded. “Sounds like it.”
“But don’t you see? He said he was here visiting Grandfather. Grandfather didn’t live here during that time. He and Arabella were in Europe. The house was closed up.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. Quinn lied to me.”
Nico’s mouth tightened. “Let’s go for a walk. By the time we get back, Rill should have that information.”
The sun was setting behind the great house, the color of the ocean darkening, but the scene was lost on the two men who stood on the bluff talking intently.