They arrived just after noontime, might be interrupting the woman’s lunch hour, but Casey wasn’t taking any chances about being turned away. She had brought her Colt along to insist if it came to that—that is, if the woman was home. It would be real unfortunate if she weren’t, since Casey doubted Damian would make another journey here if this one didn’t pan out.
She was home. The butler who answered the door showed them to the parlor, where they were asked to wait. A stuffy gent, to be sure. Damian’s name hadn’t surprised him, so was likely unknown to him. And why would it be otherwise? No reason for the lady to talk of a previous marriage in the house of her current one.
Margaret arrived in the parlor a few minutes later, a tad breathless. She’d rushed, probably not believing that Damian had actually come to see her. And she looked so amazed—and delighted—to see him standing there next to her fireplace. She didn’t spare even a glance in Casey’s direction. She had eyes only for her son.
It took a few moments for her to realize that Damian wasn’t as pleased as she was. He was stiff as a board, his hands locked behind his back. His expression was guarded, though there were hints of bitterness and anger in his eyes. Her expression now showed a measure of sadness. But all they did was stare at each other. They weren’t going to say anything.
Casey sighed and dropped down onto a sofa, spread her gray velvet skirt wide, then blushed when she felt the weight of her gun in the large reticule she set in her lap. She should have known she wouldn’t need it here. Then again, maybe that was what it would take to get these two talking…
She tried a little verbal nudge first. “I’m Casey Straton, ma’am, a friend of Damian’s. I believe he’d like to ask you some questions…”
That was Damian’s cue, but he didn’t take it. Margaret had to ask, “Questions about what?”
Casey glanced at Damian. He still didn’t look like he was going to say a single word. She sighed again. This wasn’t progressing as she’d hoped it would.
“Why don’t we start with the divorce and why you wanted it?” Casey suggested.
That got a response out of Damian. He said bitterly, “I already know why she wanted it.”
Margaret frowned. “No, perhaps you don’t know, at least not everything. It wasn’t that I didn’t love your father—well, I didn’t actually, but I was quite fond of him. Our marriage had been one of mutual benefits, prompted by the pressures of marrying one of a like social standing, which didn’t leave all that many choices, as you might imagine.”
“He loved you,” Damian spat out.
“Yes, I know.” Margaret sighed. “But I didn’t feel that way about him. That would have been all right, I suppose. Many women live unfulfilled lives like that. But then I met someone who made my life worth living. I fell in love with him completely. I couldn’t stay with your father after that. It wouldn’t have been fair to either of us.”
“So to hell with ten years of marriage and a child you produced in that marriage.”
“You really think it would have been better if I had stayed and made three people miserable instead of just one?” she asked.
“Just one? I see even now you feel I counted for nothing back then.”
She gasped. “That isn’t so! I would have taken you with me, Damian. I wanted to. But I knew how much your father loved you. And you were at that age when a father’s influence is most important for a young boy. I was hurting your father by leaving him. I knew that. I couldn’t hurt him more by taking you away from him as well.”
“All right, I can understand that. What I can’t understand is why you never visited. You didn’t divorce just my father, you divorced yourself from me, too. Did I mean so little to you that you couldn’t write occasionally, that you couldn’t come even once to see how I was faring?”
“My God, he never told you, did he?”
Damian stiffened. “Told me what?”
“Your father made me promise I would never try to see you or contact—”
“You’re lying!”
“I’m not, Damian,” she insisted. “It was the only way he would give me the divorce. But don’t think harshly of him for it. I don’t believe he wanted it that way for any vindictive reasons. He was merely trying to protect you, and I could understand his reasoning. He felt it would be hard enough on you, losing me like that. He wanted you to have time to get over it, without visits from me that would make the pain even worse. He promised, though, that he wouldn’t prevent you from visiting me when you were old enough. But you never did,” she said sadly. “Yet I still didn’t abide fully by that promise, though your father never knew. It really had been too much to ask of me, to never see you again.”
“What do you mean?”
“Once every season, I have traveled to New York just to catch a glimpse of you. I never let you see me. In that I did keep the promise. But I wasn’t going to be denied at least the sight of you, to see how you were growing, if you seemed happy. Even after you were grown and working at Rutledge Imports, I still made the trip, four times each year. I used to sit at that tiny cafe across the street, to wait and see you leaving work. One time you crossed the street to have a quick dinner—you must have been working late that night. I was sure you would notice me, but you were preoccupied. Another time I had my driver circle round and round the block for hours, just waiting for you to leave the mansion, and when you did, you were apparently in a great hurry to get somewhere, because you tried to get my driver to stop and take you up. I had to screech at him to get us away from…”
Casey rose quietly and left them alone. She shouldn’t be there, listening to these confessions. It was a private moment between a mother and son who’d been separated far too long.
Damian was hearing what she’d hoped he’d hear. His mother loved him, had always loved him. The moisture in his eyes as he listened to her said he believed it now. Casey’s tears were a bit more obvious. Her collar was getting wet, for crying out loud.
Chapter 58
Good comes with the bad and vice versa. Damian tried to remind himself of that as he raced back to the hotel—alone. No one could have everything he wanted. That was too much to expect. But he couldn’t help wanting everything.
On the one hand, he felt such peace of spirit now, after talking to his mother, as if a weight that had been crushing him was finally lifted from his shoulders. To learn that he hadn’t been unwanted or abandoned, as he’d always thought, made such a difference. And he couldn’t have asked for a better parting from her. The hug had been immensely healing. The agreement to become part of each other’s lives henceforth had been reassuring.
But then, on the other hand, there was Casey, ripping up his emotions something fierce—and disappearing on him again.
When he’d left his mother’s house, he’d expected to find Casey waiting in the carriage. But no. She’d had the driver take her back to the hotel, then return for Damian. No message.
No nothing—again.
And she had left the hotel. That was the last straw. She’d already checked out, already left for the train station. Left him.
Driving to the station reminded him of his mad chase after Jack. But he’d slipped the driver an outrageous tip to have it so. He wasn’t going to miss seeing Casey one last time just because of the heavy traffic found in all large cities. Fortunately, the train station was close to the hotel. Unfortunately, it was a huge station.
Damian still managed to get there before the southbound train pulled out. But the mass of people waiting for other trains made it difficult for him to locate the Stratons. It was Chandos he spotted first and approached.
The man sounded surprised to see him there, though he didn’t look it. “I could’ve sworn Casey mentioned that she’d said her good-byes to you. Once wasn’t enough?”
“Her idea of good-byes and mine aren’t exactly the same, but then, what should I expect, when your daughter holds me in utter contempt?”
Chandos actually chuckled at that. ??
?You really think she could love someone she holds in contempt?”
Damian’s heart leaped into his throat. “Are you saying she loves me?”
“Now how would I know that? Seems to me that’s a question you should be asking her.”
Devastating, that letdown. “Where is she?”
Chandos nodded down the track, to where Casey was standing at the end of the train with her mother, the older woman’s arm around her shoulders as if she were consoling her. Which, of course, wouldn’t have been the case. Would it?
They were both probably glad to be going home, just as Chandos admitted to being when Damian wished him a safe journey in parting. “This is the farthest I’ve ever come into the heart of this country,” Chandos remarked. “There’s much to be said for progress, as long as you don’t have to live in the midst of it. At least in Texas, you can still ignore it for the most part—and still breathe fresh air not clogged with chimney and factory soot.”
If he wasn’t under a time constraint—the damn train whistle had already blown—Damian might have replied to that and even admitted that he could agree in some respects. At the moment, though, he just wanted to reach Casey before she got on the train.
“Ma’am.” He nodded to Courtney.
“If you’ll excuse me, I think Chandos is calling me,” she said and left them alone.
Damian didn’t look back to see if that was true. He simply grabbed Casey the moment her mother walked off and kissed her, hard. His frustration was in that kiss, as well as his exasperation with her—and himself. He should have done this long ago.
“Now that’s a proper good-bye,” he said when he set her back on her feet.
“Is it?” she replied a bit breathlessly. “I wouldn’t know. I don’t say too many good-byes.”
“Neither do I, and I don’t like this one at all,” he grumbled.
“You don’t?”
“Casey, I—” Whatever he’d started to say, he got tongue-tied over and said instead, “You know, I liked that town of yours. I’ve been thinking of opening an extension of Rutledge Imports there.”
She blinked. “You are?”
“Yes, and I was wondering if you might allow me to court you when I move to Waco.”
“Court me?” she echoed in disbelief. “As in—court me?”
“I’m not asking to build an extension on your house, Casey. Yes, court you. One of these days, I’ll get up the nerve to ask you to marry me, and a nice, long courtship will—”
“You want to marry me?”
He smiled at her incredulous look and said softly, “I can’t think of anything I want more.”
He’d rendered her speechless. In fact, she was silent for so long, just staring at him, that he thought he was going to perish of suspense.
And then she said in her abrupt, no-nonsense way, “To hell with courtships. Ask me—now.”
He was holding his breath. “Would you?”
“Say it.”
“Marry me?”
“Oh, yes. Yes!” She threw her arms around his neck and shouted it once more. “Yes!” And then demanded, “What took you so damn long?”
He laughed. “Uncertainty—the most I’ve ever felt. I might have figured out long ago that all I need is you, Casey, to give my life meaning. But finding out if you’d marry me turned out to be the most important question of my life, so it was taking me awhile to get up the nerve to ask it. Yet I’d planned to ask it on our way back from Culthers. You just took off before I could.”
“We’ll have to work on this hesitancy of yours, Damian. I was miserable when I left you. You could have saved me, and it looks like yourself, a lot of heartache if you’d just come right out with it back then. My answer would have been the same. I was already hopelessly in love with you.”
He gathered her close. “I’m so sorry—”
“No, don’t apologize, you silly man. I’m just as much a tenderfoot as you when it comes to matters of the heart. I could have spoken up myself. I mean, if I was going to be miserable anyway, I could have been miserable knowing for sure that there was no hope for us. I guess I was just as afraid to find out the truth as you were. It was just too important. So if there’s any blame to place—”
“I don’t think there is any,” he cut in with a grin. “If you’ll overlook those few weeks of misery, so will I—and make every effort to see that it never happens again.”
“Ah, now that’s a promise I like hearing—and will hold you to.”
There was much more promise in the tender kiss he gave her in answer, promise of a love that would never end.
A short distance away, Courtney said to her husband with considerable pleasure, “Looks like we’re going to have us a wedding.”
Chandos followed her smiling gaze to find his daughter in the middle of one heck of a passionate kiss. “It does, doesn’t it?”
She glanced at her husband worriedly now and said reproachfully, “I hope you’ll give him a chance to prove himself before you start riding him.”
“Me?” He grinned at her. “Sure I will, Cateyes. Wouldn’t think of doing anything else.”
“Sure you wouldn’t,” she muttered beneath her breath.
Enter the World of Johanna Lindsey
Welcome to the world of Johanna Lindsey, and enter into a fantasy of your choosing. Immerse yourself deep into times when men were warriors, tamed only by very special women, and romance reigned supreme. Whether it is against the backdrop of glamorous Regency England society, the pageantry of a medieval court, the wild wilderness of the American West, or any other you can imagine, Johanna Lindsey knows how to make a love story come alive. Enjoy!
Captive Bride
Johanna Lindsey touched deep into the soul of her readers with her first romance. The world knew a new star was born with this tale of an arrogant Arab prince cut down to size by a strong-minded English miss.
Philip Caxton saw Christina as soon as she entered the room. She turned away with contempt when she saw him. Well, he didn’t expect an easy conquest. She had seemed to hate him last night.
He sighed, cursing the lack of time. But perhaps Christina Wakefield was just playing hard to get. After all, young women came to London to look for husbands. And he wasn’t such a bad catch. But still, with only one day’s acquaintance, the odds were against him. Damn, why hadn’t he met her sooner?
Anne Shadwell drew Christina toward Philip. “Miss Wakefield, I would like to introduce—”
She was cut off abruptly.
“We’ve met,” Christina said contemptuously.
Anne Shadwell looked startled, but Philip made an arrogantly graceful bow, took Christina’s arm firmly, and walked her out onto the balcony. She resisted, but he was sure she wouldn’t cause a scene.
When they reached the railing, she whirled to face him defiantly.
“Really, Mr. Caxton! I thought I made myself quite clear last night, but since you don’t seem to understand, let me enlighten you. I don’t like you. You are a rude, conceited man, and I find you quite intolerable. Now if you will excuse me, I am going back to join my brother.” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her hand and pulled her back to him.
“Christina, wait,” he demanded huskily, forcing her to look into his dark eyes.
“I really don’t think we have anything to say to each other, Mr. Caxton. And please refrain from using my first name.” She turned to leave again, but Philip still grasped her hand in his. She faced him once more, stamping her foot in fury.
“Let go of my hand!” she demanded.
“Not until you’ve heard what I have to say, Tina,” he answered, pulling her closer to him.
“Tina!” She glared at him. “How dare—”
“I dare anything I damn well please. Now shut up and listen to me.” He was amused at the disbelief written on her lovely face. “Tina, I want you. I would be honored if you would consent to be my wife. I would give you anything you want—jewels, beautiful gowns, my estates.”
&nb
sp; She was looking at him in a most unusual way. She opened her mouth to say something, but the words wouldn’t come out. And then he felt the sting of her hand across his cheek.
“I have never been so insulted in my—”
But Philip didn’t let her finish. He gathered her in his arms and silenced her words with a deep, penetrating kiss. He held her tightly against him, feeling her breasts pressed against his chest, crushing the breath from her body. She was struggling to free herself, but her efforts only increased his desire.
Then, unexpectedly, Christina went limp in his arms and threw him off guard. Philip thought she had fainted but winced when he felt a sharp pain in his shin. He released her instantly to grab his leg, and when he looked up, Christina was running into the drawing room.
He should have known better, Philip told himself.
He should have gone to her home in Halstead and courted her slowly. But that wasn’t his way. Besides, he had never courted a woman before. He was used to getting what he wanted immediately, and he wanted Christina.
A Gentle Feuding
Sheena Fergusson is the most prized beauty in Scotland. Every man wants to possess her—except for Jamie MacKinnion, the avowed enemy of her clan. But when the proud laird finally lays eyes on Sheena, his warrior’s heart is conquered by the ethereal magnificence of this woman.
James MacKinnion moved slowly. An enveloping mist still clung to the dewy ground, and he was sopping wet from crossing the second of the two Esk rivers. He was tired from lack of sleep and the rough ride south. There was something wrong in all this, but he didn’t know what it could be.
The mist swirled and parted before him in a gentle breeze, revealing for a moment a wooded glen not far ahead. Then the mist settled again, and the vision was gone. Jamie rode for it; the trees were a pleasant change from the barren moors and heather-clad hills.
He had never been this far east on Fergusson land before. He had never raided Lowlanders in the spring before, either.