Dear Sir, I'm Yours (7 page)

“Colonel Healy says his grandson will have you in his bed within the week.”

Laughing so hard he sagged against the wall, Conn wrapped his arms around Rae before she punched him. “Colonel Healy’s been dead for years now, Grandma.”

“I know that, Verrill Connagher, and don’t you dare call me Grandma. The bet’s on.”

Sipping on a cup of coffee, Rae stole another glance at him. Conn cleaned up his second slice of homemade apple pie as if nothing had happened outside. As if she hadn’t reluctantly admitted a spanking wasn’t out of the realm of possibility and his grandmother hadn’t made a bet with her dead husband about how fast their grandson would get Rae into his bed.

Her heart thudded so loudly, it took her a minute to realize there really was someone pounding on the front door.

“How rude!” Miss Belle threw her napkin down and stood. “There’s a doorbell right there. Oh.”

“What?” Conn asked.

“It’s Mr. Franklin, Samantha’s husband.”

“How do you know?” Rae listened, trying to hear any voices, but whoever it was just pounded on the door again.

“Go let him in and chat him up while I get Samantha. Try to keep him calm.”

They headed for the front door, Rae very much aware of the rising tension. The whole house seemed to shake with emotion. The door rattled in its frame, the heavy hundred-year-old wood creaking.

Conn gave her a casual, comforting smile and opened the door. “Bill, how—”

A big, beefy man, a head taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier, Bill Franklin bellowed and charged inside, dragging alcohol fumes with him. “Where is she?”

“Samantha’s finishing up in the kitchen.” Keeping his voice mild, Conn put his arm around Rae and kept his body between hers and the intruder’s. Gratitude flooded her, turning her heart all warm and gooey, until she thought about the nice cook having to go home with such a jerk. “I apologize if she’s running late.”

“What are you doing here?” Then he noted Conn’s arm around her, his protectiveness, and some of the man’s belligerence faded. Typical man, showing up all blustering and crazy because a strange male was sniffing around his little woman. He’d come for a pissing contest, to defend his territory.

Richard had treated her like that a few times. Not because he loved her, or feared for her safety, but because he couldn’t bear for her to have anything else in her life but him. She felt like kicking this jerk in the balls. Why did Samantha put up with it? She didn’t look like a meek, weak woman at all.

Why did I put up with Dick so long?
a sly, insidious voice whispered.

“My grandmother invited me for dinner,” Conn replied in the same smooth voice, but his body was rock hard against her and ready for battle. “I came to see Miss Jackson.”

The other man’s attitude went down another notch and he actually smiled like a good ole boy just stopping by for a drink. He ran his gaze down Rae’s figure appreciatively and opened his mouth to make some schoolboy comment, but the look on Conn’s face must have shut him up.

“Bill!” Samantha rushed into the room, her blue eyes snapping. “How dare you come in here and cause problems? I told you I’d be home a little late tonight.”

He spread his big, rough hands, shrugging and trying to look sheepish. “I was afraid you were stuck alongside the road somewhere with car problems.”

Rae rolled her eyes. Sure he did. That’s why he was here trying to beat the door down.

“Where are the kids? Who’s watching them and getting their dinner?”

“They’re still playing at the neighbor’s.”

“It’s nearly eight. They’re probably starving. What have you been doing?” Samantha took a big sniff of him and her face locked down. “Never mind.” She turned to Miss Belle.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Belle.”

The grand old lady kissed her cheek and patted her hands. “Don’t you worry about a thing, Samantha. We’ll see you Friday morning, all right, dear? You go home and take care of those precious children.”

The couple left, leaving a bitter, sour taste in Rae’s mouth, too. What if she’d had children with Richard—would she have stayed instead of divorcing him? Trapped by her own family, her own kids, in a prison of her own making…her stomach hurt. Thank God she’d escaped before it was too late.

Miss Belle frowned at the door, worried for her cook’s wellbeing. “Well, that was exciting.”

“Why does she stay with him?” Rae asked. “I know it’s none of my business and I don’t know her at all, but he seems…”

The older woman sighed heavily and shook her head. “Children are involved, and they’ve been married nearly ten years. They work out their problems as best as they can. You and I can sit here and look at him and think he’s a worthless brute, but Samantha’s the one who has to live with him. At one time, she loved him. Once love dies, it’s hard to move on.”

Once love dies.
The thought rolled around in the pit of Rae’s stomach like a cold ball of lead. Did she love Conn, really, really love him? She was afraid she did. He’d already said he loved her too. And once loved died… Would she be trapped in a controlling, abusive relationship again? She pressed her hand to her stomach, vaguely ill at the thought.

“‘
When age chills the blood, when our pleasures are past
,’” Conn quoted softly. “‘
For
years fleet away with the wings of the dove,/ The dearest remembrance will still be the last,/

Our sweetest memorial, the first kiss of love.’
”

First kiss of love. Her heart skipped, heat flooding her at the memory. Whatever happened between them, she’d never forget that kiss. She’d never forget him. He was worth the risk.

“I’m so glad you’re close, Conn,” Miss Belle said, fondly patting her grandson’s cheek.

“How close?” Rae squeaked. He didn’t live here; he’d said so. Because if he was here, in this house… She wouldn’t make it a week.

“I live in the guesthouse on the edge of the property.”

She wracked her brain, trying to remember a guesthouse. How much land did Miss Belle have here? Was he a mile away, less? The thought both thrilled and scared her to death.

“If you drive past the house instead of turning in here, the road curves along the outer edge of our property and ends up at my cottage. It’s more secluded and very private.” He leaned down, breathing into her ear. “If you cut across the property, you can be in my bed in five minutes.”

“Now, now, don’t you threaten my property manager!” Miss Belle laughed, pushing him toward the door. He held on to Rae, drawing her with him. “Why don’t you go on home now and memorize some more Lord Byron. We’ve had enough excitement tonight, and you’re definitely going to need the help to make it two weeks.”

What did Lord Byron’s poetry have to do with the ridiculous bet? Rae had no idea, and from the smirk on the old lady’s face, she didn’t want to know.

“Walk me out,” Conn whispered, his eyes heavy and dark. Automatically, her body tightened, heating up all over again, just from the look in his eyes. Her gaze settled on his lips.

“You know the way, Verrill Connagher.” Miss Belle shooed him outside, holding Rae back when she would have gone with him out the door. “You can show Rae Lynn the shortcut some other day.”

“Don’t I get a kiss good night?”

“You had your kiss. I’m not losing this bet to Colonel Healy! Now get!”

Dear Dr. Connagher:

I’ve made a terrible mistake. I’m miserable. And I have no one to blame but myself.

Writing you like this is my only sanity. You’re the only person I can talk to. What am I
going to say to Daddy, once the hardest-working man I know, now confined to a wheelchair
and his bed, mute and unable to care for himself?

You were right, Daddy.

What do I do now? How can I complain about my marriage to him when he’s lost so
much more than me?

All I lost is you, and it was my own fault. My own choice.

Sometimes sneaking in here to you, I feel like I’m having an affair. After all these years,
you still have the ability to scare me spitless. I’ve taken vows; I made a serious commitment.

When I give my word, I keep it. You know that. I gave my word to Richard and I said, “I do.”

Yet if you walked in here today and crooked your little finger at me, I’d follow you
anywhere. No communication beyond my one-sided letters to you in years, and I’d break my
word and dishonor my vows simply to be with you.

Sometimes… I’m crying here. Sometimes I wish you would drive up, roll down your
window and turn those powerful blues on me. “Come with me, Rae.” And I would. Without
hesitation.

I thought I was saving myself by leaving you. But now I’m drowning myself day by day.

It’s a slow murderous death. Please, Conn, if you cared for me even a little…

Save me from myself.

~ Rae

The solid thwack of wood on wood echoed in the arena. Conn absorbed his friend’s strike and used his momentum to spin his practice sword back up in a smooth arc. Mason blocked him effortlessly.

Before they’d started drilling each Wednesday before class, this arena would have most likely been empty. Oh, a few die-hard rodeo riders might have been up this early to exercise their horses, but for the most part, the college community didn’t get up at six o’clock in the morning, let alone to practice a sword drill. To watch two professors beat each other with swords, though, a weekly crowd ranging from a handful to sometimes dozens of students showed up.

Mason looked rather rough this morning with bloodshot eyes and shadowed jaws. Yet he pushed Conn just as hard, and he felt another bead of sweat roll down his face.

Grunting with effort, Mason caught a solid blow on his sword. “You’re awfully chipper this morning.”

“I ought to be.” Conn parried again, lunging forward to push his friend to the side to avoid backing him into a pile of horse dung, one of the downsides to practicing here. “I found Rae.”

Mason whistled. “The student who drove Dr. Perfect to—”

Grimly, Conn slammed several powerful blows, preventing his friend’s jibe. Breathing hard, Mason finally signaled a pause, with a few cheers from the watching crowd. Dripping sweat, Conn retrieved his water bottle and slugged half of it. “She was married.”

“Ah. I thought you were rather enthusiastic this morning.”

“Not only was she married, but I think—” Rage pulsed through Conn as strong as ever.

It’s a good thing he’d sworn off beating the shit out of people many years ago, because if he ever laid eyes on Rae’s ex-husband, he’d be tempted to put Dick six feet below ground. The hospital was too good for that asshole.

Not good, not good at all. He couldn’t afford to lose control like this. He’d hoped to burn off some of this tension this morning, but the sword work had hardly put a dent in his rage.

“He abused her. I don’t know how much or how bad, but it was enough to make her divorce him. For her, I know what a difficult decision that must have been. Rae’s not a quitter and she takes her word seriously. It must have killed her to finally call it quits.”

“She quit on you.”

“No, that’s not fair. She had no relationship with me other than as my student, which I violated. She was right to leave. God only knows what I might have done, how I might have hurt her, if I—” Some things he couldn’t even tell his best friend. He turned away, the guilt as fresh and raw as an open wound. “It was my fault, Mason.”

“And now that she’s back, what are you going to do? She’s already tying you up in a quantum knot.”

Conn laughed, jagged and harsh but amused, too. His friend didn’t know the half of it.

“That’s what you’re for. I need to drill hard every single day for the next week or so, if you’re up for it.”

Groaning, Mason flopped down on a bench. “How early?”

“Early. Unless you’re too hung-over.”

“Give me a break, Conn. You know what this weekend is.”

The three-year anniversary of the death of Mason’s state-patrol wife. “Are you holding up okay?”

Mason shrugged and didn’t meet his gaze. “Sure. Last night I had mid-terms to grade and so I stayed out a bit longer than usual.”

“No wonder you needed a few drinks. I never understood calculus unless I was three sheets to the wind.”

His friend laughed, but it sounded forced to Conn’s ears. “So how’d you find your missing student after all these years?”

“I didn’t. Miss Belle tracked her down.” And boy would there be hell to pay when Rae found out the extent of how she’d been set up.

“I never want to end up on that lady’s bad side. So where’s your student been hiding out?”

Conn stuffed their practice swords in a big duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder.

Together, they walked out to his car where he stowed the bag in the trunk. “You know, I never found out where she’s been.”

He’d tried to block out the image of her living with another man, sharing another man’s house and bed. If she’d been living in Springfield all this time with another man, he’d try to gut himself with that dull wooden sword. How many nights had he jerked awake with her name on his lips after dreaming of seeing her on the street, at the grocery store, on campus?

“Too busy getting into her pants to find out where she lived?”

Firmly, Conn slammed the door shut on the image of her ass framed in those incredibly tight jeans as she crawled beneath the porch. “Shut up. So are we on for tomorrow?”

“Sure, but you’re responsible for bringing the coffee.”

***

Armed with a spiral notebook and several pencils the next morning, Rae took a survey of Beulah Land or Healy House, or whatever the hell Miss Belle was calling the B&B. On one page, she made a list of everything structurally that needed to be fixed, or that she recommended fixing for cosmetic reasons. On another page, she had a list of requests from Miss Belle, like the koi pond down by the gazebo. Then she started making phone calls.