Page 23 of All My Broken Dreams

His mouth softened, his lips parting just slightly in the most delectable way. She didn’t think up until this moment that a man could be so alluring. Deacon was kind to her and that meant a lot to her. She had to remind herself that the reason for seeing beauty in him could be his gentleness. His kindness.

She didn’t know if that was true about him. Or if she was seeing just what she wanted to see?

“We’ll go back to the house now, if that’s what you want.”

Robbie hesitated. “Of course that’s what I want. Why would you even say that?”

His shoulders lifted as though he couldn’t find the words, which made her anxious again. “It’s not my call, but if you find something that upsets you in Harry’s place…. Are you going to be okay with that?”

“No, I won’t.” She caught his hand. “Deacon, you think he’s been hurt, don’t you?”

He led her through the narrow laneway. “No, I don’t. I hope he’s okay. You have to check out his place, I get that; but it might be harder than you think. If he left without a word … if he disappeared on purpose, how are you going to handle it?”

Chapter Twelve

They walked through the silent, wet streets back to Deacon’s lodgings. Robbie thought over what she might find in Harry’s room and decided that no matter what it was, she had to know. Her mother lurked behind every move she made in Scotland. Sarah’s pained expression turned in her direction, made her cringe inside and hardened her resolve to do anything it took to find Harry and bring him home.

“If he’s not there–if he’s left–I’ll go looking for him and I’m going to find him, Deacon. I swear I will.”

His expression changed. A shadow passed over his handsome features and vanished almost as quickly as it had surfaced.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. “What are you keeping from me?”

“Stop asking me that,” he said impatiently. “I’m not your keeper or Harry’s. If you want to waste time running after a guy who doesn’t care enough to stay in touch, it’s not my business. I’ll call Mrs. Cameron for you and she’ll let you in his room. After that, you’re on your own.”

“Wait! Why are you mad at me? I never asked for your help. I know you’re not responsible for any of this. I’m sorry if I made it sound like that.”

His eyes were dark and stormy, surveying the street. Dawn had finally broken, penetrating the clouds. “You didn’t. I’m just tired. And hungry. Let’s get some breakfast while we wait for Mrs. Cameron. There’s a cafe in the next street that opens early.”

She didn’t want food, she wanted to know what Deacon was hiding because it wasclearhe was hiding something. It wasn’t in anything he said, but his expression which was normally open and easy to read, became closed and opaque whenever her brother’s name came up.

Why?

Maybe Harry had sworn him to secrecy. Maybe there was a dark reason Harry had fled from his family and refused to get in touch. Robbie didn’t know much about her half-brother’s first family. Maybe there was a good reason he had to disappear. Maybe Deacon was helping Harry to stay lost.

After seeing how Deacon Wake was with the stray cat and her litter, Robbie felt that his reasons must be pure. But he wasn’t going to tell her anything until he knew he could trust her.

“Breakfast sounds great.”

She stuffed her cold hands into the pockets of her coat as they rounded the corner. Taking his hand to feel better was childish. Something a kid would do. It was time to grow up.

The cafe was warm and well-lit, smelling of toast, coffee and bacon fat. Deacon’s stomach growled. He held the door for Robbie. He noticed she didn’t take his hand this time. She was probably angry with him. He messed up. He shouldn’t have losthis patience with her, but if she didn’t back off, she was going to get into trouble.

It was his job to make sure she backed off and to do that, she had to trust him.No, it was bigger than that.Robbie Listowel had to trust him to the point ofobedience. She had to do everything he told her to do. If he told her to let Harry go, she had to do it or Alastair would get rid of her.

Fuil Bratach before all. Even a twenty-two-year-old girl who was scared to step outside.

Deacon surveyed the nearly empty cafe for a table. Robbie’s hands were jammed in her pockets, coiled into fists. Her face was wan and tight with anxiety. She was like the cat when he first found her; wound so tight, she’d claw him to pieces if he made a move.

In Robbie’s case, it was the cafe that threatened her. She was so brave, battling her condition to keep searching for her brother. Like his feral cat, Robbie Listowel had a strong survival instinct.

“Is this all right?” he asked her, pointing to a table against the wall.

Robbie accepted his suggestion without a word, sitting down stiffly as though every movement caused her pain. Maybe it did. He remembered her dislocated shoulder.

“How is the shoulder this morning?”

“Better.” Her lips were white. Her eyes were dark and staring. “I took a painkiller before we left.”

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