"Because maybe it'll make a difference, and I'd stopped thinking I could make one. And because it's important to Laura."
"And she's important to you."
"She… matters," he said, after a moment. "If you need to go over this again, I'll be available. I've got some things to do."
"I appreciate you coming in." She offered her hand. "I very much appreciate it." She watched him go out, and knew the instant the door across the hall opened. "Well?" Caine demanded.
"He just gave me some weight to add to the Holloway defense." She looked at Caine. "And he's in love with Laura. She's in love with him."
"Diana, she's just… She's only a…" He leaned against the door.
Understanding perfectly, Diana crossed the hall and cupped Caine's face in her hands. "She'll still be ours. Nothing changes that."
"I know. I know." He let out a windy sigh. "Trust Laura to pick a guy who'd like nothing better than to kick my ass from here to Canada." She laughed, kissed him. "And that, Counselor, is one of the reasons you like him."
Chapter 10
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Two days before Christmas, Laura rushed up the steps to Cameron Security. As usual, Royce's secretary was away from her desk. Laura all but danced to the door of the inner office, and knocked briskly.
"Got a minute, Mr. Cameron?" She poked her head in, saw him on the phone. He gave her a come-ahead curl of his finger.
"If you're sure this time, I can start right after the first of the year. No," he said firmly, then again, with a hint of exasperation, "No, Mr. MacGregor, I can't do that. I appreciate—No," he said again, and rubbed at the headache brewing behind his eyes. "I understand, thanks. Yes. Merry Christmas."
"It had to be my grandfather," Laura said when Royce slapped the receiver back on the hook. "Of all the Mr. MacGregors, he's most likely to cause that reaction."
"He's finally decided on the system he wants. At least he's decided, again, for the moment. I think the man wants to keep me on a string for the rest of my life." He looked over, saw her beaming smile. "What are you so happy about?"
"Oh, a number of things. We really turned a comer on the trial today, Royce. Your testimony yesterday made an enormous difference."
"Good."
"I know it wasn't a happy day for you, but it helped. And I'm hearing rumors that IAD and the district attorney's office are going to investigate Masterson. Amanda Holloway is going to get justice." She leaned over the desk and kissed him. "Thank you."
"I didn't do anything to speak of. I thought you'd be on your way to Hyannis."
"I'm just on my way home to pick up my bags. I wish you'd change your mind and come with me. You know you're welcome." She lifted a brow. "And I know Grandpa has been nagging you for weeks to come up for the holidays."
"I appreciate it, but I can't. Besides, I'm not a family-gathering type. Christmas is for kids and families." She shook her head. "You didn't even put up a tree."
"You bought me that ugly little ceramic one."
"It's not ugly, it's tacky. That's entirely different." She wanted so much to ask him again, to find the right words to persuade him to spend Christmas with her, to be part of her life. But she'd resolved to make do and accept what she had. "I'll miss you."
"You'll be surrounded by people." He smiled a little as he stood up. "Hordes of MacGregors, even the thought of which unnerves me. You won't have time to miss me."
"I'll miss you anyway." She kissed him lightly. She pulled a brightly wrapped box out of her pocket, handed it to him.
"What's this?"
"A present. It's traditional. I want you to open it Christmas morning."
"Look, I don't have—"
"Royce, say thank-you."
Though he was as miserable as he'd been in his life, he made his lips curve. "Thank you."
"Now say Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Slim."
"I'll see you in a few days." She hurried out, telling herself it was the sentiment of the season that misted her eyes. Royce sat where he was, continued to sit as the sun slanted lower through his small window, as the light dimmed and darkness fell. He couldn't avoid it any longer, he thought. He couldn't keep denying what had happened to him, what had become of him. It had probably happened the first moment he saw her face, when she stood there wearing next to nothing and prepared to hold him off with a kitchen knife.
How could a man not love a woman like that?
But it didn't matter how he felt about her. Hadn't he already argued with himself for days about this single point? She didn't just come from a different world, she lived in one. She was the niece of a president, the granddaughter of a financial legend. An heiress, as her father—who hated the sight of him—had so acerbically pointed out.
Just in case he'd missed those facts, he had only to note that she wore diamond studs in her ears, lived in a house in the Back Bay filled with arts and antiques, and drove a spiffy car that would cost a year of his annual income. In a good year. She was Harvard Law and he was community college, and he hadn't even finished that. It couldn't possibly work. He was deluding himself by even fantasizing about it
But he'd discovered something in the past few weeks. He understood now what put that bedazzled look in Caine MacGregor's eyes when he spoke of his wife. He knew now what caused a man to fall so deeply in love it never ended. It was finding the unique woman, and what knowing her could do to your heart.
Forget it, he ordered himself. Forget her and move on.
He turned back, telling himself he would lock up, go home. The office looked so empty, and his apartment would be even emptier. Why hadn't that ever bothered him before? He'd liked his lone-wolf status. He wanted to come and go as he pleased, when he pleased. Now even the thought of sleeping alone depressed him.
He rubbed his hands over his face and wondered when he'd become such a coward, so afraid to take a risk. He'd gone after her, hadn't he? He'd made the moves. And now he was going to let her go because he was afraid she wouldn't want him, couldn't want him, as much as he wanted her.
That was bull. He dropped his hands. He wasn't going to sit around brooding over his beer and feeling sorry for himself. He still had some moves to make.
He grabbed his coat on the way out.
Royce had been right about one thing. The house in Hyannis was crammed with MacGregors. And MacGregors made noise, and lots of it. Music blasted from the stereo in the parlor. In the music room down the long hall, Laura's youngest cousin, Amelia Blade, pounded out Christmas carols on the piano and added her strong, rich voice to Daniel's booming baritone. From somewhere upstairs, male voices carried down. An argument in progress, Laura mused. It sounded like the oldest grandchild, Mac, and either D.C. or Duncan. Hardly mattered, she decided. Whoever was fighting would bicker the point to death, then find something else to wrangle over.
She walked into what the family affectionately called the throne room, in honor of the huge high-backed chair Daniel presided in during family events. There, before the wide windows that opened onto a view of the cliffs, the Christmas tree soared, fifteen feet of glossy pine, every bough and branch heavy with ornaments and twinkling with lights.
It would stay lit, day and night, until Epiphany.
Beneath it were mountains of gifts. At midnight, following family tradition, there would be a minor riot of ripping and laughing and love. Most of all love, she thought. No matter how they fought, no matter how much noise and confusion there was, this house was always filled with love.
And how she hated to think of Royce alone on Christmas Eve.
"I don't know how they do it," Caine said from behind her. He stepped up, laying his hands on her shoulders to rub. "Every year they manage to find the perfect tree. Ever since I was a boy, there's been a tree right there at Christmas. And it's always been the perfect tree."
"When we were little, before we were old enough to stay up to midnight, we always used to sneak down, huddle on the stairs and watch for Sant
a to come down the chimney over there." Laura leaned back against him. "I don't have a single bad memory in this house, and it's only occurred to me just lately how lucky I am. I love you so much." She turned into his arms, rested her head on his shoulder. It was the catch in her voice that had him lifting her chin, and smoothing back her hair when he saw the tears swimming in her eyes.
"What is it, baby? What's wrong?"
"Nothing. I'm feeling sloppy and sentimental. It's the season for it. I've decided I don't get sloppy and sentimental nearly often enough. You were the first man in my life, the first man to ever pick me up. And I wanted to tell you that you've never, not once, let me down."
"You're going to make me sloppy," Caine murmured, and gathered her close.
There was a thunder of footsteps behind them as a horde of people raced down the stairs. Shouts, threats, insults, laughter.
"Ian and Julia have instigated a snow battle." Laura gave her father a hard squeeze. "Another fine MacGregor tradition."
"Interested?"
"Yeah." She tipped her head back and grinned. "We can take them. Why don't you go issue the challenge, and I'll be out in a minute?"
"You're on." He kissed the tip of her nose. "You've never let me down, either, Laura. I'm proud of who you are."
"Good blood," she said with a smile. "Strong stock."
She smiled as he went out, raising his voice over the melee to challenge a former president of the United States to a snow war. Chuckling, Laura sat on the arm of her grandfather's chair. She'd go out and join in, but she wanted a moment to herself first. She would make a wish on the tree, she thought, as she often had as a child. Now it would be a woman's wish, the hope that one day, on some snowy Christmas Eve, the man she loved would stand in this room with her.
"Laura."
Her head jerked around, and for one foolish moment she thought she was dreaming. Then her smile bloomed. "Royce! You changed your mind. That's wonderful." She rushed across the room to take his hand. "God, your hands are freezing. Where are your gloves?
Here, let me take your coat, and you can warm up by the fire."
"I need to talk to you."
"Of course." She continued to smile, but her eyes went cool as she glanced beyond him. It was no less crowded in the hallway than it had been moments before, but it was dead silent. "My family," she began.
"I'm not going to be introduced to a half a million MacGregors, at least not until I've talked to you."
"Fair enough." She skimmed over several interested faces. "Beat it," she ordered. Without waiting to see if the order was obeyed or ignored, she closed the door and tugged Royce into the throne room. "Don't worry, you've already met a portion of them, and you'll sort the rest out over the next couple of days."
"I don't know if I'm staying."
"Oh, but—"
"You may not want me to when I'm finished."
Something skittered in her stomach, but she ignored it. "Well, at least take off your coat and let me get you a glass of Christmas cheer. Will brandy do you?"
"Sure, fine. Whatever." He stripped off his coat while she walked off to lift a decanter. "Some tree."
"Well, it's no ceramic tabletop, but it does the trick." She walked back, then tapped her glass against the one she gave him. "I'm glad you came."
"That remains to be seen."
She had a hunch she should sit, and without thinking, she chose Daniel's chair. It should have dwarfed her, Royce thought Instead, she looked regal, a queen prepared to rule. But he'd be damned if she'd lop off his head without a fight.
"If something's on your mind," she said carefully, "you should just say it"
"Yeah, that's easy for you to say." He began to pace, remembered he didn't care for brandy and set the snifter down. "I'm the one who had to drive up here, into enemy territory."
She had to laugh. "Enemy territory?"
"Your father hates me."
"Oh, Royce, he doesn't. He's just—"
"Doesn't matter." He waved her amused protest aside and kept pacing. "And why shouldn't he? I didn't go to Harvard, I don't own a house, I'm an ex-cop with a struggling business and I'm sleeping with his daughter. In his place, I'd have arranged for a quick, quiet murder."
"My father isn't a snob."
"He doesn't have to be. The facts are there, right there. That's reality. And even if you push all that aside, this wasn't the deal. It wasn't the deal."
"What deal?"
He shook his head, paced, stopped, stared at her. "I want to—I have to—I need a minute here." He walked to one of the windows. Outside on the rolling lawn, at least half a dozen people were pummeling each other with snowballs. "I don't know anything about this kind of family. It's not where I'm from."
"I'd say this family is unique by almost any standard."
"I'm not poor." He said it almost to himself. "The business is holding its own. I know what I'm doing." He turned away from the window, but he decided it was easier to keep moving. "I don't care about your money. It doesn't mean a damn to me if you've got five dollars or five million."
Now she was completely baffled. The words themselves were puzzling enough, but he looked miserable, angry and, though it seemed unlikely, nervous. "I never thought otherwise."
"Just so you know." He muttered to himself, then shook his head. "I can support myself. I've been doing it for most of my life. You're used to more, and that's not a problem for me. You should have what you're used to having."
"Good, I'm glad you think so, because I certainly intend to." She stood up. "Royce, I wish you'd get to the point."
"I'm working on it" His eyes heated, glinted dangerously. "I'm working up to it. You think this is a snap for me? I never planned on this. I never wanted this." He stalked up to her, fury bubbling in his eyes. "Get that clear, Slim. I never wanted this."
"Wanted what?"
"To not be able to go one lousy day without you inside my head. To start reaching for you at night when you're not even there. To need to hear your voice, just hear it. To be in love with you."
"In love with me?" she repeated, and sank slowly back into the chair. "You're in love with me."
"Now, you hear me out, all the way. I know you have feelings for me, or you wouldn't have let me touch you. Maybe it started out as just chemistry, but it's more. It's a hell of a lot more, and if you'd give it a chance—"
"Royce—"
"Damn it, Laura, you'll hear me out." He had to move away, pull back his control. He felt as though he were three stories up and toeing his way across a very thin and shaky wire. "We're good together, and
I know I can make you happy." He spun back. "Your grandfather's on my side here." The warmth flowing through her heart was cut off in a snap. "That's the wrong button to push."
"I'm pushing it. He figures I'm good enough for you, so why shouldn't I think the same?"
"Good enough for me," she repeated, almost sputtering.
"That's right. I've got a strong back, I've got a good mind, and I don't cheat. And I love you, I love everything about you. And I'll even give learning to live with your family a shot. That should be enough for anyone."
He dug a hand into his pocket and came out with a small box. "Here," he said, and shoved it at her. Laura reached for it, bobbled it, then holding her breath opened the lid. Her heart took another spin on the roller coaster he'd brought with him, this time shooting straight up and shouting for joy. The deep red ruby gleamed seductively against a circle of gold.
"I figured a diamond was too predictable for you," he muttered. "For us."
"Are you proposing to me, Royce?" She was pleased that her voice could sound so steady, so mild, when her heart was still somewhere in the stratosphere.
"It's a ring, isn't it?"
"Yes, it certainly is. And a lovely one." She lifted her gaze from it, stared into his eyes.
"What? It's not big enough?"
"Idiot I'm waiting."
"You're waiting? I'm waiting."
S
he sighed. "All right, let's try this. I didn't plan this, I didn't want this. It wasn't the deal. But I'm in love with you." He'd opened his mouth, his arguments ready. "Huh?"
"Hear me out." Enjoying herself now, she sat back in the chair, laid one arm out. "You're an extraordinarily attractive man. You have your own business, and though apparently you occasionally undervalue yourself, you have a healthy ego, a good brain." She pressed her lips and nodded in a considering way. "And you come from strong stock. I believe—if we're going to use your idiotic turn of phrase—you're good enough for me."
"You're in love with me" was all he could manage.
She wondered if she would ever again, in the long life she planned for them, have him at such a disadvantage. "Yes, I am desperately in love with you, Royce. And I've been very brave and stoic, I'll have you know, accepting that you weren't in love with me. But since you are, it's different. And if you had the sense to ask me to marry you instead of shoving a box in my hand, I'd say yes." He was still staring at her, but his brain was clearing. And his heart… his heart was lost. "I had really good arguments planned to talk you into it."
"Do you want me to hear them now?"
"No." He took another breath. "I'm not getting down on my knees."
"I should hope not." She got up, handed him the box. "Try again."
It wasn't hard to say it, he realized, when your heart was full of the words. "I love you, Laura." He touched her hair at the temple, kept his eyes on hers. "I love you. I want a life with you, a family with you. I want to spend the next sixty Christmas mornings with you. Will you marry me?"
"Oh, that was really good." For the first time, her vision blurred. "I want my ring, and I want you to kiss me. Then it'll be perfect."
"Say yes first."
"Yes, absolutely yes." She leaped into his arms, found his mouth with hers. It was more than perfect. "I'm so glad I found you. So glad I found you when I wasn't even looking for you. I wished for you." She let the first tear fall as he slipped the ring on her finger. "I wished for you just a little while ago. And here you are."
"Here we are," he murmured. The front door crashed, someone shouted as footsteps thudded down the hall. "Surrounded."
"They're going to love you." She laughed, lifted a hand to his cheek. "I do. And you do have the MacGregor on your side." Her eyes danced as she leaned into him. "Let's go tell him. Ordinarily I'd want him to suffer awhile, but it's Christmas. He'd just love the gift of being right"
From the Private Memoirs
of
Daniel Duncan MacGregor
A man's family is his most prized possession. It is also his most solemn responsibility. I never shirk my responsibilities, and I tend well all that is mine.
I've seen my first granddaughter married. What a beautiful bride she was, glowing, luminous in her long white gown, with the veil worn by her grandmother over her shining dark hair.
Such a picture did our Laura make that I had to hold my Anna close and soothe her. The woman gets emotional at such times. It was, for me, a moment of great joy and private satisfaction. Oh, I watched my son Caine beam—the proud papa—as he escorted Laura down the aisle to the man who would be her husband. The man I personally selected. But we'll just keep quiet about that. Children tend to become surly at what they mistakenly see as meddling. Tending is what it is, and make no mistake. And on that perfect spring day, I stood and watched Caine grin, chuckled to myself as he exchanged manly backslaps with his new son-in-law, even dashed a stray tear from my own eye when Ian, as brother of the bride, made a toast to the new bride and groom. Oh, a happy day it was for the Clan MacGregor.
My work there is done. Laura and Royce will be happy, and they'd best be seeing about giving their grandmother new babies to bounce on her knee. Anna is already fretting for a greatgrandchild.
Now I can turn my attention to my sweet Gwen. Pretty as a princess is my