Page 52 of Unwanted Vows

“By marriage,” I say. “My mother, Deborah Aims, was my grandfather’s only living child. There were others, but there was some kind of accident. Grandfather looked around at people he knew, and selected Albert Lane, my father, as the best person for her to marry. The only thing was, he was already married to Amari Nassir of Mountain Hold. It was just a small mining operation and farm back then. Albert, Mr. Nassir and Amari were working hard to make it into something more. It was earning a respectable income, and likely to earn more, when he received a summons from his mother, Gertrude Lane, to get himself back to New York.”

“And he came back? Just like that, because his mama sent for him?” Scorn dripped from Maddy’s voice.

“Just like that,” Andrew said. “I’m not sure why. Perhaps Grandfather has some sort of hold on the Lanes. Maybe he threatened to harm Amari and her father. Nassir had some sort of illness or accident shortly after Albert left. With his death, Amari needed a male partner . . .”

“Why?” Maddy burst out. “Was there some legal reason why she could not inherit?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Andrew said. “By the time I met her, she was married to Iskander, Nassir’s partner at the time of his death, and had been since Leland was three. Iskander was an odd bird, and might well have been part of the reason the neighbors were upset with Mountain Hold. But most of these things happened before I was born. So all I have are second, and sometimes third hand accounts to go on.”

Maddy is nibbling at her thumb again. Something I notice that she does when she’s frustrated or upset. “Were the threats the real reason you didn’t date anyone after you left the U.S.?”

“I really did miss you,” I say. “And you haunted my dreams. But the threats didn’t stop after I left the United States. None of the girls I met measured up to my strange dreams, certainly not enough to risk getting them hurt or killed. I was mostly too busy to worry about having a relationship with anyone anyway.”

“Andrew,” she says, “You are one muddled mess. You say one thing, then you say another. You kiss even better than I remember . . .”

I feel heat in my face, and a tingle in another part at the mention of kissing her.

“ . . . but you tell such wild tales that I’m not sure what to think.”

I stop talking. She waits, the silence hanging heavy between us. “Maddy,” I finally say, “I don’t always know what is real and what is not. My memories got scrambled pretty thoroughly. But I can tell you who to ask.”

“Who?” she says.

“Richard’s secretary,” I say. “She was Dad’s secretary, too. Maybe had some other connections. I seem to remember that Mom didn’t like her much, but Richard seems to think she walks on water. And maybe Aunt Emily. She and Amari were good friends. You don’t have to rely on my word.”

Maddy stops nibbling on her thumb, folds it under her other four fingers, and wraps both arms around her knees again. “All right, I’ll ask them,” she says. “And maybe I’ll have a word with Richard, too. How is your head these days? Are you a danger to yourself or others?”

I laugh, trying to sound nonchalant. I’m pretty sure it just came off brassy and false. “That is a good question. According to the trauma physician on my team and the counselor in charge of team stability, I’m fully in charge of all my faculties, and I’m safe to be around other human beings.”

“What do you think?” she asks.

That was a stumper of a question. I’d just had a dream become reality, and I wasn’t sure if there had been an attempt on my son’s life or if the dart through the window had been another kidnapping attempt. I’m in an environment as changed from when I’d left the States as if I’d been stuffed in a time capsule and slept through the last nine years.

“Well,” I said slowly, “I’ve been rated sane and emotionally stable. But I won’t say that I’m feeling exactly settled and confident. I’m worried that my grandfather has something up his sleeve. Something that will upset everything. If my idiot cousin, Jason Wintergreen, can be believed at all, he’s already had a go at breaking up Leland and Catriona.”

“And he had you believing that he would hurt me or any one else you dated,” Maddy says. “That’s pretty scary stuff. Are you sure that moving in together will really protect Paul?”

“No,” I admitted. “But your association with Charles Emory and my brother-in-law, Austin, just might keep us all safe. At least I hope they can.”

She seemed to think that over. Then she finally speaks. “At least you aren’t pretending to fix everything just by being here.”

“No,” I say, trying to quash the tiny hope that was bubbling up from somewhere. Perhaps my Maddy no longer wanted to feed me to the lions. Perhaps “fuck you” could mean something more than . . . that thought got away from me, as she went on talking.

“We had a lovely week. You were so serious. We went to all the tourist places because I’d never been. It was the best week of my life. But I don’t know what comes next.”

“Next?” I say. “I want to get to know you and the son I didn’t know I had. I can’t go back and recapture the last nine years, but maybe we can build something better for the future.”

“Do you really want to try?” she asks.

“Oh, Maddy,” I say, turning and opening my arms to her, inviting but not touching. “I truly want to try.”

“Then let’s do that,” she says, snuggling into my embrace.

I gently cuddle her close, vowing in my heart that I will do whatever it takes to keep Grandfather from harming her or Paul.

I treasure the warm weight of her in my arms, breathing in the lemon and honeysuckle scent of her hair, and the warm, indefinable feminine scent that is her.

She tips up her face, and I kiss her. It is gentle at first, then more passionate. She slides her hands under my shirt. I can feel the ragged edge of the cuticle she keeps nibbling at. It feels real, solid. She feels real and solid, unlikely to dissolve as my dream woman so frequently did.

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