Grayson Brothers Series Boxed Set (4 books in 1) (43 page)

“Kyle!” He lifted his head and saw Boyd waving him out to the backyard. “Help us get this horseshoe pit set up.”

Kyle’s spirits lifted for the first time in a month, and he gladly headed toward the backyard where Radford and Duke were working with Boyd.

“You can thank me later for rescuing you,” Boyd said then shoved a mug of ale into Kyle’s hand.

As they finished digging out the pits, Kyle drank and talked with his brothers. Soon the yard would be filled with the crews from both mills. Their neighbors, Tom and Martha Fisk would come. Their mothers would come, too, and maybe even some close friends like Agatha Brown and Richard and Lucinda.

By mid-afternoon they were all there and Kyle enjoyed one of the best days he’d had in years. Shouts and cheers came from the men surrounding the horseshoe pits. Giggles and screams came from Rebecca and all her little friends who were chasing through the yard with her. The women stayed mostly on the porch, but their roars of laughter told Kyle they were having a grand time.

Occasionally, he would spy Amelia through the cluster of women, and the joy in her expression would ease his mind. He could see that she was finally beginning to feel at ease with his mother, who sat between her and Evelyn, talking. Kyle couldn’t hear what she was saying, but he would wager a dollar it was a story about some stupid thing Kyle and his brothers had done when they were boys. Amelia laughed again and Kyle could tell she wasn’t thinking about her father today, or the problems in their marriage. She was relaxed and enjoying herself with her family the way she should be.

The ale and the food made him drowsy, and he simply couldn’t keep his eyes open. With feigned nonchalance, he ambled to a quiet area of the backyard and stretched out beneath a huge birch tree. The shade and the light breeze made it the perfect spot for a nap. Kyle closed his eyes and drifted, the sounds echoing through the yard growing more distant with each slow breath he took.

The feeling of something wiggling on his chest startled him out of a half-sleep, and he lowered his chin to see what critter had mistaken him for a nest.

Cinnamon stared back at him with curious green eyes.

Kyle tensed, waiting for the demon to sink her claws into his chest, but to his utter shock, she sprawled across his shirt and started to purr.

She was purring! She wasn’t swiping or hissing or sinking her razor teeth into his fingers. She was purring.

“If you even think about trying something while I’ve got my eyes closed, you’ll spend the rest of your life in the woodshed,” he warned.

Cinnamon blinked up at him as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

Kyle grinned and closed his eyes. Little minx.

* * *

Rebecca giggled, and Amelia put her finger to her lips, grinning as she approached her sleeping husband. If he woke up and found Cinnamon and Ginger curled up on his chest there was no telling what he would do.

Slowly, stealthily, Amelia reached down to lift the kittens off his chest.

“If they sink their miserable little claws into me after they’ve spent the last half hour rattling my chest with their purring, I’m giving them back to Rebecca.”

Amelia gasped and jerked her hands back, making Rebecca giggle. “You scared the stuffing out of me, Kyle. Why didn’t you tell me you were awake?”

He opened his eyes. They were filled with warmth. “I was hoping you’d join me.”

“I will, Uncle Kyle!” Rebecca plopped her small bottom beside him then leaned over and laid her head on his chest, her face only inches from the kittens. “Did you two take a nice nap?” she asked, like a little mother.

Amelia laughed and joined them in the soft summer grass, feeling more relaxed than she had in weeks. Even Richard’s presence hadn’t disturbed her today. Other than a polite greeting to her and the other women, he’d stayed with the men, tossing horseshoes and drinking ale like the rest of their friends.

Cinnamon stretched and yawned, her mouth gaping open as her pink tongue curled. Kyle rolled his eyes and Amelia smiled at him. She would never have imagined him like this, lazing under a tree on a warm day with a little girl and frisky kittens climbing all over him. How could she not love him?

“We should head home soon,” he said, and she nodded.

It had been a wonderful, but long, day. Everyone had been relaxed and grateful for a day of freedom from their usual routine of worry and hard work. Even her mother and Shorty had managed the day without killing each other. In fact, their taunting had an edge of humor to it now, as if they both secretly enjoyed their sparring. Jeb hadn’t interfered, but Amelia knew he had stayed beside her mother in case she’d needed him.

Amelia’s gaze shifted back to Kyle. He’d stood beside her, too, when she’d needed him to marry her. Though he’d been disappointed when he learned the truth about her, he hadn’t turned away from her as she’d thought he would. Instead, he’d been honest about his involvement with her father’s death in hopes of eliminating any remaining obstacles that would hinder them from making their marriage work. She hadn’t done anything but condemn him for his honesty.

Shame washed through her and she lowered her lashes. Kyle hadn’t even asked her to forgive him, as if what he’d done was beyond forgiving. But it dawned on her that it wasn’t a matter of forgiving but one of understanding. Kyle and her father had been friends. They’d respected and admired each other. Her father and Kyle may have gotten upset with each other, but both men had enjoyed competing and challenging one another to grow. Amelia even remembered a couple of occasions at the lumberyard when their faces had gotten red and their voices had been raised, but neither Kyle nor her father had been angry. They were just two stubborn men trying to make a point. More than likely that’s what had happened the night of her father’s collapse. She was willing to believe that it was misfortune rather than aggression that caused her father’s death.

“What are you thinking about?” Kyle asked.

Amelia met his eyes. “I’m thinking I need to tell you that I forgive you.” Surprise lit his eyes and he glanced at Rebecca, but Amelia knew their niece was preoccupied with the kittens and was too young to understand their conversation. “I’m sorry I hurt you,” she continued softly. “I should have tried to understand instead of cast blame. I never meant to wound you, Kyle, or deepen your regret. I’m sorry I did.”

Emotion filled his expression and he took Amelia’s hand. “Let’s go home.”

* * *

Moonlight and shadows softened the contours of Amelia’s face. Kyle knew he would never tire of looking at her. She was different than he’d expected, stronger than he would have surmised. He’d assumed she would be every bit the prissy schoolmarm he’d once considered her, but Amelia was tough, intelligent, and stubborn. She was also sensitive and forgiving.

She could angle that proud chin of hers and goad him into stepping out of his business boots to try something ridiculous like paddling a rotted boat down the creek.

She burned with an inner energy that raced through his body every time he touched her. It excited him, and scared him.

His need for her was too strong, his emotions too out of control for his comfort. Healthy male need was one thing. But a soul-deep craving was another thing altogether.

Lying beside her made him ache for her. It had been so long since that day at the waterfall. He brushed the hair off her face, longing to pull her into his arms and love her, but he wanted her to come to him willingly.

She sighed and turned her cheek into his palm.

Kyle drank in the vision of her serene face, the gentle arch of her eyebrows, the sweep of her cheekbones.

“I want you,” she whispered.

He lowered his head and brushed his mouth across her parted lips.

Moonlight slanted in the window, brushing her face with pale light, turning her eyes into shimmering dark pools that mesmerized him as she sat up and turned back the sheet. She worked the gown over her head and tossed it to the floor. Her hair spilled over her shoulders and swept around her rib cage like a waterfall of autumn colors. Not daring to speak, knowing he wouldn’t have the words to express how he felt, Kyle slipped his fingers into the colored silk and pulled her mouth to his.

They sank back on the mattress and he kissed her, softly at first, more passionately as the seconds turned into minutes and their breathing mingled with the heartbeat pulsing in his ears.

He moved his lips to her neck, her collarbone, her breast. She whispered to him, telling him how wonderful his kisses felt. He moved his mouth lower, over her ribs and down to her hipbone then to the place that made her gasp and lift up on her elbows.

He reached up and cupped her breast with his hand then lowered his mouth again. She moaned and fell back on the pillows, lifting herself to accommodate his intimate caress.

As he listened to the rising pitch and tempo of her moans, blinding heat surged through his body.

“Kyle!” she whispered, her voice urgent. He covered her body with his own and she cupped his face with her palms. “I love you,” she said, and Kyle’s world shifted. He had so much to say, so much in his heart he wanted to give her, but he didn’t have the words.

So he kissed her with a hunger that overwhelmed them, their passion bursting into a reckless and frenzied fire as Amelia cried out in the heat of their lovemaking.

Kyle followed her, and for the first time in his life, he let the moment own him.

Amelia and her mother watched Kyle direct the crew, his eyes brimming with enthusiasm as the men disassembled and dragged out the old mill that had seized up for the last and final time. They had just completed their shipment of deck beams to James Hale, and Kyle was eager to get their new saw up and running before he negotiated the next contract for beams.

The men began hauling in the new sawmill that Kyle had originally ordered for the depot. It was still in the crate because the depot crew had been too busy cutting railroad ties to build a structure to house the saw in. Kyle said it made more sense to replace her father’s old mill with the new saw. So the men fashioned a sled with plank runners and attached it to two heavy-muscled Percherons, whose sides heaved as they pulled the crated mill inside.

Her mother hooked her arm around Amelia’s waist as they watched in fascination. “I’m beginning to understand why your father loved those men,” she said, watching them trail alongside the sled with excited expressions.

Amelia did, too, and her new sense of contentment with Kyle filled her with happiness. Although he rarely expressed himself with words, she was learning how to read his actions. To hear him talk about Cinnamon and Ginger one would think he despised the kittens, but to see them sleep on his chest or scamper after his bootlaces in the evenings when he played with them told another story.

“Hold up!” Kyle yelled. “We’ve got a runner board coming off on this side!”

“Whoa, boys. Easy now.” Jake stopped the horses. Jeb and the crew crouched on the left side of the sled. “It’ll rip off if we try to move it.”

Jeb slapped his thighs and stood. “Muscle up, boys, and grab some pry bars. We’re going to lift the edge of this sled.” When the men ran for the iron rods, Jeb turned to Amelia. “We need Jake’s help in lifting this runner. Can you manage the horses for him?”

Amelia glanced at Kyle, but he didn’t even lift an eyebrow to stop her. “I’ll try,” she said, but her nerves were crackling with tension when she moved forward to stand beside the massive beasts.

“Victoria, we need someone to drive the board back under the sled once we lift it,” Jeb said. “Can you swing a maul?”

“Of course,” she said, her eyes lighting up as she moved to Jeb’s side.

Amelia saw her mother and Jeb exchange a warm look of friendship. She suspected it would deepen and become more someday, but surprisingly the idea didn’t bother her. As her mother’s heart healed and Jeb grew more comfortable, they would naturally turn to each other. Her mother would always love her father regardless of how many years passed. But she was too young to live the rest of her life alone, and both Jeb and her mother deserved to find happiness again.

The men came back with bars and a twelve-pound hammer that her mother could barely lift. Amelia saw Kyle’s lips tilt, but to her surprise, instead of taking over, he stayed with the men. They squatted side by side, gripped the iron handles of their pry bars and heaved until cords stood out in their necks.

“Now,” Jeb grunted, his face red with the exertion of lifting the edge of the sled three inches off the ground.

Her mother rocked the maul like a pendulum until she got enough momentum to swing then she swatted at the three-inch plank. She hit Jeb’s pry bar instead and nearly knocked him over when it sprang loose from beneath the sled.

Kyle’s mouth twitched.

Amelia bit her lip when she saw his shoulders shaking. He was really enjoying this! “Mama, why don’t you manage the horses and I’ll do that.”

Her mother’s chin lifted and she took a firmer grip on the wooden handle. “I can do it,” she said, staring straight into Jeb’s eyes. She wound up again and swung with more force, but missed everything altogether.

“I’m straining my gizzard down here,” Shorty called from the middle of the sled. “Pretend it’s me you’re swinging at.”

Her mother laughed then adjusted her grip on the handled. The crew was still snorting when she hauled back and put her petite body behind her swing. The maul hit the plank with a crack that jolted the men and shoved the slab back under the sled. Cheers filled the mill as they tossed aside their pry bars and finished dragging the crate into the building.

Her mother followed along, asking a million questions as they settled the mill in its final resting place. The light in her mother’s eyes, and the warmth in her own heart, made Amelia realize that she and her mother belonged here with this ragged, boisterous bunch of men. And she belonged with Kyle.

When her mother headed to the mess hall to cook their lunch, Amelia went to the office where she’d left the kittens.

They hated being penned in their crate and their loud mewls of protest let her know about it. She closed the office door behind her then set them free, but within minutes they were crawling in and out of the desk drawer she’d set on the floor.

Amelia heard the scratch of paper moving across the floor and peeked behind her to see what the kittens were doing.

Cinnamon swiped at the paper and Ginger pounced on it. Hoping it wasn’t anything important, Amelia wrestled it from beneath her little monsters and put it on the desk.

It was a letter from The Law Office in Philadelphia. As Amelia began to read, she remembered that it was the name of Richard’s old law business. A man named Samuel Klein had sent the letter to her father, asking to talk to him about some gaming counters Richard Cameron intended to redeem from him.

Amelia sank back in the desk chair and stared at the note wondering if she’d just found important information on her father’s financial decline. Who was Samuel Klein and why was Richard involved? Amelia reached inside her shirt pocket and retrieved the counters she’d found in her father’s drawer several weeks ago. She looked at the inscription with sudden understanding. It wasn’t a
D
at the end—it was an
O
.
TLO
... the initials for The Law Office. Dread snaked through her stomach.

After she took the kittens to the mess hall for her mother to watch, Amelia went to the bank. Richard glanced up in surprise when she entered his office. He sat behind a massive mahogany desk, rolling a pen between his fingers. “By the expression on your face I assume this isn’t a social call.”

She closed the door behind her. “I’d like to know where the money went that my father deposited the day he died?”

Richard’s expression flattened and it seemed to Amelia that he was struggling to look nonchalant. “What are you talking about?”

“Kyle said he heard that Papa made a large deposit right before he died, but there wasn’t any money in his account when I paid off our mortgage. That was barely a week later. What happened to the money?”

Richard stood and faced her. “Kyle must have misunderstood. There is no money in his account.”

Though Richard didn’t look away from her hard stare, something flickered in his eyes that confirmed Amelia’s cause for suspicion. Still, a direct accusation would yield nothing from Richard, so she shifted her questions.

“Who is Samuel Klein?”

Richard’s eyes widened and he gawked at her for a full two seconds before masking his shock. “He’s an old friend of mine. What makes you ask?”

“Did you go to school with him?”

“I, ah... well, yes, that’s where we met.” His eyes narrowed as he studied her face. “How do you know Sam?”

“He sent my father this note requesting a meeting about some gaming counters you were trying to redeem. Why was Papa sending you money?”

His color turned ashen and Amelia knew whatever he was about to tell her would be awful. “Have you shown that letter to anyone else?”

“No. Why?”

He reached out and plucked it from her hand. “If this is found, Amelia, it will destroy your father.”

Her heart dropped to her stomach. “Why? What did he do?”

“You don’t want to know. Just forget you ever saw it.” He ripped the letter into small pieces then crossed the office to drop it into the trash basket. “It’s over now.”

“Richard, I need to understand what was going on with him. If you don’t want to give me an explanation then I’m going to write to Mr. Klein about it. I’ll ask your uncles to investigate my father’s bank accounts, as well.”

“Don’t be an idiot!” he said, whirling to face her, his expression so livid it turned her skin to ice. “I’m serious when I tell you this could ruin your father’s reputation!”

“Then tell me what this is about. Please,” she whispered, too panicked to force the words out any louder. “I have to know what he did.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue then his shoulders sagged. “The money was for Catherine.”

Amelia frowned, confusion spiraling through her mind. “Why would Papa give her money?”

Richard’s expression filled with sympathy. “Why do you think, Amelia?”

His insinuation was too obvious to misinterpret, but if Amelia lived two hundred years she would never believe her father would cheat on her mother. He’d adored her mother. Gambling was one thing. An affair would have been the last possible vice she could ever have imagined her father being involved in. Especially with a sweet woman like Catherine Cameron.

“Papa was a friend of your father’s. Maybe he felt inclined to help Catherine when she was widowed.”

“Maybe,” he said, but Amelia knew he didn’t believe it. “He took over Catherine’s support when my dad died. That’s all I know for sure.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn’t want to believe it. But maybe that’s why her mother had been upset the day they made streusel. Maybe she knew the truth. Maybe Amelia’s father really had been having an affair.

Amelia fumbled to open the door. She had to get out of Richard’s office. She couldn’t bear to hear another heartbreaking word about her father.

“It’s locked, Amelia.”

She reached up to twist the latch, but Richard’s hand stopped her. She whirled to face him, surprised that he’d crossed the room so quietly.

“I rigged it to lock when I shut the door. It’s the only way to protect my privacy.” He gave the knob a quiet turn to unlock it, but he caught her arm and stopped her from bolting out the door. “If you rush out of here looking as if someone just died, you’re going to cause a tidal wave of gossip. If anyone finds out about this, your father’s reputation will suffer as severely as Catherine’s.” He sighed as if his shoulders carried an unbearable weight. “People make mistakes, Amelia. Most of us regret it. Your father was a good man and I’m sure he never meant to hurt anyone.” He gave her wrist a light squeeze. “Don’t try to understand this. Just protect his privacy and let him rest in peace.”

The realization that she may not have really known her father crushed Amelia. All those years she’d adored him, had considered him a pillar of integrity and honor, but if Richard was telling the truth about Catherine then her father had been a gambling, two-timing liar.