His Heir, Her Secret

Duncan took pity on her and changed the subject. The shift gave her a few minutes to breathe and get herself under control. Brody, damn his sorry black-hearted hide, smirked as if he had bested her somehow. Not a chance. Not a damned chance in the world.

While they waited on the main course, Isobel finally grimaced. “Well, lass, here it is. The boys want me to sell out and go back to Scotland. I’ve let them know unequivocally that I’m not going to do that.”

“Oh?” Cate felt as if she were treading a minefield. Neither Duncan nor Brody seemed in any way lighthearted or even at ease about this conversation. Was this some kind of trap for Cate? Did Miss Izzy need Cate to cast a deciding vote?

Isobel nodded, although Cate hadn’t really said anything. “I offered a compromise. One the boys believe has merit.”

“And that is?”

Izzy smiled gently. “I’d like you to consider moving in here with me as my paid companion. I wouldn’t take you away from the bookstore, of course. Your wonderful shop is part of the charm of Candlewick. But my grandsons would feel better knowing that someone was officially looking after me.”

“I already do that anyway.” Cate frowned. “I care about you, Miss Izzy. And I’m happy to consider moving up here on the mountain with you, but I won’t take any money. That’s unacceptable.”

Brody, the man whose flashing smile was the first thing she had noticed about him months ago, seemed to do nothing but frown at her now. His black scowl pinned her to her chair. “Try not to be difficult, Cate. Granny isn’t a charity case. She can afford to pay for in-home help.”

Cate was generally even-tempered, but Brody’s condescending attitude nicked her on the raw. “Isobel is my friend,” she said. “It seems to me this is an issue she and I can negotiate on our own. Or perhaps you and Duncan think I’ll make the house too crowded.”

“Oh, no,” Izzy said. “The boys are leaving.”

“Leaving?” Cate’s tongue felt thick in her mouth. Her stomach clenched. “When?”

Duncan picked up the conversational ball, since his brother was sitting silent and stone-faced with his arms crossed over his chest. “Our tickets are open-ended, but probably in a couple of days. Granny has made up her mind. Since we won’t be dealing with real estate issues, we’ll head on home and probably make another visit later...in the summer, no doubt.”

Cate’s skin was clammy and cold, though she felt feverish and overheated from the inside out. Brody was leaving. Dear Lord. What was she going to do? She had to tell him. Or did she?

Perspiration dotted her upper lip. Black spots danced in front of her eyes. “Excuse me,” she said. “I’ll be back in a moment.” She stood up, deathly ill, desperate to make it to the restroom before she broke down in tears.

Humiliation and rage and sheer distress tore her in a dozen directions. Is this what hyperventilation felt like? Nausea rolled through her belly. Not once in her shocking pregnancy had she experienced more than mild discomfort. Now, at the worst possible moment, puking her guts out was a very real possibility.

As she lurched to her feet, her chair wobbled and almost overturned. She grabbed for something, anything. With one hand she gripped the wooden edge of the seat back. With the other, she reached blindly for the table.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t feel well.”

She took a step toward the hallway. Her legs buckled. She heard a trio of shouts. Then her world went black.

Five (#ucbbd8857-d206-52ea-9c1d-de08b3efc14a)

Brody leaped to his feet in horror, but he was too late to catch Cate. She crumpled like a graceful swan. Unfortunately, she was close enough to the sideboard to clip her head as she went down. A gash marred her high, pale forehead. “Bloody hell.” He crouched beside her, his heart racing in panic. “Get some ice, Duncan.”

Isobel sat awkwardly on the floor at Cate’s hip. The old woman suffered from advanced arthritis in every joint, but she took one of Cate’s hands and patted it over and over again. Her eyes glistened with tears. “Cate. Cate, dear. Open your eyes.”

Cate was milk-pale and completely limp and unresponsive. Brody tasted real fear. “Damn it, Duncan! Where’s the ice?”

Duncan appeared on the run, out of breath and agitated. “What’s wrong with her?” The zip-top plastic bag of ice he carried was wrapped in a thin cotton dish towel.

“Hell if I know. I can’t leave her on the floor, though. Hold the ice to her head while I move her.” Carefully, Brody scooped Cate up in his arms. She was slender, but tall, so he grunted as he lifted her dead weight. Her gorgeous, sunlit hair cascaded over his arm. The scent of her shampoo and the feel of her feminine body in his arms excoriated him.

Ever since his visit to Cate’s bookstore four nights ago, he had second-guessed himself a million times. His decision not to continue their physical relationship seemed like the mature, reasonable choice. It wasn’t fair to Cate to pick up where they left off, and what he had told her was true. He needed time with his grandmother. More important, he wasn’t a man who had any intention of settling down to family life.

Cate was not a one-night-stand kind of woman.

But God knew, he had vastly underestimated how hard it was going to be to stay away from her now that they were, at least for the moment, living in the same town. He strode down the hallway with only one destination in mind. Entering his bedroom, he motioned for Duncan to throw back the covers.