Love at Any Cost (24 page)

His anger surged, but he tamped it down with a clamp of his jaw, his words as hard as hers. “Really, Cait? Why don't you tell that to the woman whose body just responded to mine?”

The lightning force of her slap shifted his jaw clean to the right, the sound of it like a crack of thunder. “How dare you?” she whispered, tears streaming her cheeks. “You forced yourself on me in your usual callous way, and if you ever do so again, it will be the last time you step foot in my house, is that clear?” He didn't answer, and she took a step forward, her jaw engaged once again. “I said, is-that-clear?”

Gritting his teeth, he turned away. He sucked in a harsh breath and released it again, fighting to keep his temper under control, the only control he apparently possessed with the woman before him. Well, she might hold all the cards and he might lose this hand, but he would
not
lose the game. With a heavy blast of air, he turned—and stopped—all anger fading at what he'd reduced her to. A quivering mass of tears.
God, forgive me
. . . He studied her with sorrow in his eyes. “Yes,” he whispered, all of his emotion finally spent, “it's clear.” She started for the door and he stopped her with a gentle hand. “Forgive me, Cait—I never meant to hurt you. Not then, not now.”

She nodded stiffly and started to leave.

“Cait?” She turned at the door. He plunged his hands in his pockets, no longer a man of the world, but a little boy whose heart was on the line. “I love you, and deep down inside, I think you
know that, know I would never cheat on you again.” He stared, his eyes naked with the truth for the very first time. “That said, I need to know why? What else are you afraid of?”

She must have sensed his honesty because the hard plain of her face ebbed into a look of such sorrow, it plucked at his heart. Her voice was gentle and low once again, the Caitlyn he was privileged to love. “I love you as family, Logan, but I can never be ‘in love' with you again.”

The words stabbed. “Why?” he whispered, his voice no more than a croak.

Her bodice quivered with a burdensome sigh. “Because I don't trust you.”

“Why? I swear to you, Cait—I will be faithful.”

“No, Logan, you can't. A man of your habit and ilk can't be faithful without God.”

“Let me prove it. I can do this.”

“Maybe. But I can't. I refuse to fall in love with a man who doesn't share my faith.”

He took a step forward, his eyes intense. “I believe in God, Cait.”

“No, Logan, you believe in yourself first, God after. There's a difference.”

His jaw sagged in disbelief. “You're attracted to me and love me, yet you turn me away because my faith isn't up to snuff?” Fury boiled in his veins, trumping his passion. He chilled her with a look so cold, he saw her shiver. “Even if it means your precious Vigilance Committee?”

The blood leeched from her face. “You wouldn't,” she whispered, her words laced with shock. “Y-you agreed, and it's the decent thing to do.”

He moved in, fists clenched and a nerve twitching in his cheek.
“No, Cait, the decent thing to do is to forgive the past and admit you're in love with me.”

Her legs faltered before steel appeared to fuse in her spine. “That's your price, then?”

He stared, his jaw as rigid as his pride. She loved him, she wanted him, but she wouldn't have him because of God? Outrage like he'd never known singed his very soul. “It is.”

She winced as if she'd been struck, pain contorting her face while she listed against the wrought-iron chaise. Firelight flickered across her beautiful features, illuminating myriad feelings that tore at his heart. Shock, fear, fury, resolve . . . and sorrow. The same sorrow he saw in himself, a man of missed opportunities. The flames spit and popped behind him, as if portending a fiery future that would ravage both him and the woman he loved.

He watched as the anger slowly siphoned from her body, softening her features, welling in her eyes, and he was reminded once again what a rare woman she was. Prone to gentleness rather than anger, giving rather than taking, others rather than self. Despite the fact he would rob her of something so dear, her eyes bore no retribution or blame, only a sadness that seemed to personify Caitlyn McClare where he was concerned.

“Then it's too high,” she whispered, the trace of a tear glazing her cheek as she placed his ring on the chaise. She turned away, her voice a broken whisper that prophesied their doom. “Even for my precious Vigilance Committee.”

 20 

S
o . . . do we have a courtship?” Legs dangling over the side of the swim platform that was anchored in the middle of Logan's cattail lake, Blake chuckled and scooped water into Jamie's face. “I'm assuming since Cass didn't boot you out of her hiding place last night, you made some headway on that score?”

Soaking up Napa sun on the dock, Jamie lay flat on his stomach, head on his arms. Nothing moved but his eyelids and the curve of his lips as he peered up at Blake. “And then some.” He batted at a fly that landed on the bare shoulder of his sleeveless swimsuit, then jerked his leg when it flitted to the back of his knee-length swim shorts.

Blake scooped a handful of mossy water into Jamie's face with an edge to his tone. “What's that supposed to mean, MacKenna? Did you make advances to my cousin?”

Jamie swiped at his eye with a chuckle. “Don't get your knickers in a knot, Blake, my intentions are completely honorable where Cassie's concerned.” He closed his eyes, the memory of the kiss last night heating his body more than the sun. “But you know Cass—I had to do a little nudging to get her to see things my way.”

“Yeah, that's what I'm worried about. I've seen your ‘nudges,' Mac, and I'm not sure I want you ‘nudging' my cousin.”

Jamie hiked one lid. “Even into marriage?”

The fly could have landed in Blake's mouth. “No joke? You're that serious already?”

“He's been serious since he laid eyes on the woman, Blake, where've you been?” Bram said with a faint smile, flat on his back with elbows splayed behind his head while he sunned in a black and white striped swim shirt Jamie swore he stole from an ex-convict.

Blake scratched his head. “I suppose doing some ‘nudging' of my own, too busy to notice.” His low chuckle rumbled over the water. “Only not the respectable kind.”

“Yeah, well my days of nudging other women are over—Cassie's the one I want, and I plan to propose, the sooner the better.”

“Well, what d'ya know?” Blake said. “The Three Musketeers will be the Three Cousins.”

Bram slid Jamie a sideways glance. “Yeah, one big happy family, but educate me first.” The edge of his lip sloped up. “Does this mean you've actually changed and seen the light and not just going through the motions?”

The question caught Jamie by surprise, clearing his mind of all banter when he realized something that slowed the blood in his veins. Holy thunder, he
had
changed. Somehow between church with both Cassie and his family and debating theology with Cassie and Bram over the last month, the hard callus around his heart—the one that kept God at bay—had slowly eroded. Stripped away every time he saw the light in Cassie's eyes when her prayers were answered or the glow in her face when she sang a hymn at church. All those times she was patient and kind to Patricia when he could tell she simply wanted to hamstring her. His lips crooked. Well, she'd certainly hamstrung him, crippling him of the notion that any other woman could even come close.
And when she'd insisted on praying together for his sister every week—out loud, no less, like some crazy person—she'd rendered him completely powerless at doing anything but falling deeper in love. Had he seen the light? His smile softened. Oh yeah, and it shone bright and strong from the pale-green depths of the eyes of Cassidy McClare.

“Please say something, Mac,” Blake said with a grin. “You're starting to scare me.”

Jamie squinted in the sunlight, first at Bram and then up at Blake, giving in to a sheepish smile. “Well, let's just say for the first time in a long while, I'm on speaking terms with God.”

“It's about time,” Bram said, sitting up with a grunt. He finger-shot a dead dragonfly at Blake. “I thought you were as hopeless as this joker here.”

Blake ducked, shooting back a cocky grin. “I'm not hopeless, I'm smart. A man gets religion and the next thing he knows, some woman ties him down with a rope around his neck.” He flicked Jamie's head. “Like Mac here.”

Jamie slapped him away. “Hey, McClare, it's not ‘tied down' if it's where I want to be.”

“Even so, Uncle Logan's the smart one.” Blake jutted his dimpled chin. “Enjoying lots of women without the hassle of a wife, a bachelor for life and far happier for it.” Arms braced to the dock, he lifted his face to the sun. “A role model if ever there was.”

“Yeah, if you don't mind being lonely.” Bram's tone was as dry as the weathered wood he commenced picking on at the edge of the dock.

Blake's eyes flipped open in shock. “Lonely—Uncle Logan?” He stared as if Bram had just sprouted wings. “The man has more women in his life than a convent.”

“Yeah? Then why is he always at your house lately, weekends included?”

Blake blinked, the question giving him pause. “Probably because Cassie's here for the summer, and everybody knows he's a man who loves family.”

“Which only underscores my point,” Bram said with emphasis. “His bachelor life is lonely, hordes of women or no.”

“Aw, you're batty. You missed your calling to be a priest like your parents wanted, you know that?”

Jamie gaped at Bram. “Your parents wanted you to be a priest?” His voice rose several octaves. “You never told me that. No wonder you're the saintly one whenever we go out.”

“The saintly one who never has any fun,” Blake pointed out.

Bram's smile took a tilt. “The saintly one who doesn't wrestle with hangovers or guilt.”

“Or women.” Jamie grinned.

It was Bram's turn to chuckle. “Nor will you, my friend,” he said with a douse of lake water, “once that ring goes on your finger. Marriage is for keeps, you know.”

Marriage is for keeps.
Oh, yeah, Jamie thought, chest swelling with pride despite the murky water dribbling his cheek. Cassie, a surgery for his sister, a political career, and a house on Nob Hill for his family—definitely for keeps—and everything he needed to “keep” him happy.

“Ahoy, there!”

All three men glanced up as Patricia swam the last few strokes to the dock. Jamie jumped up to offer a hand, and she hoisted herself up with a smile. Chestnut strands of hair trailed her neck from her fluted mob hat, accentuating the creamy line of a graceful neck Jamie's lips had roamed more than once. Her navy swim dress fell just below the knees, sopping wet and clinging to a
shapely body he couldn't help but notice. Tearing his gaze away, he sat back down and focused on her face. The violet eyes that stared back carried a message he knew all too well. Nervous fingers toyed with the sailor tie of her swimsuit while she aimed her smile straight at him. “Hate to break up your party, but Alli's scrounging up a game of croquet. Any takers?”

Bram lumbered up. “I'm game.”

“Me too,” Blake said.

Jamie started to rise and Patricia implored him with her eyes, fidgeting with the tie as she wrapped it around her finger. “Jamie—do you mind if we talk? Just for a moment?”

He paused halfway to his feet, then slowly dropped back. “Sure,” he said, hands loosely clasped over tented knees. This was as good a time as any to let her know about Cassie.

“See you on the mainland,” Blake said and plunged into the water. “Hey, Hughes,” he called over his shoulder, “five bucks says I can leave you in my wake.”

“Not in this lifetime,” Bram called, obviously confident his athletic prowess was superior to his cousin's. He grinned and offered Jamie and Trish a salute. “As Cassie would say, see you back at the ranch.” Poised on the edge of the dock, he executed a perfect dive.

Silence prevailed while Jamie and Trish watched Bram outswim Blake. “Cassie seems to be a popular girl,” she finally said, sliding down to sit on the dock. With blue stockinged legs bent like his, she hugged knees clad with sopping ruffled bloomers.

“Cassie's just unique, being from Texas and all.”

“Do you like her?” she asked, voice timid and head cocked, hand shading her eyes.

“Sure, she's a great gal.” Jamie picked on a loose thread from the hem of his swim shorts, uncomfortable both with the conversation and the news he had to share.

“I just wondered,” she said slowly, averting her eyes, “because before Cassie, I thought that you and I . . .”

His stomach tightened at the quivering bob of her throat, making him feel like a cad.

She looked up then, gaze vulnerable as she twirled a soggy curl around her finger with a touch of hurt in her eyes. “Well, you know . . . liked each other.”

He swallowed hard, wishing this wasn't so difficult. He liked Patricia, had from the start. She was beautiful, smart, and most important of all, a wealthy senator's daughter—a senator who'd made it perfectly clear he wanted Jamie in the family. He had no doubt that if Cassie hadn't happened along, he would have married her—and soon, if she had any say. He sucked in a deep breath. “I do like you, Patricia—a lot. But when Cassie arrived for the summer, I just . . .” He paused, desperate to find words that wouldn't cut. “Well, we just sorta became good friends, you know? And now . . . well, now I want to court her.”

His heart twisted when tears pooled in her eyes. “Court her?” she whispered. “But what about your dreams—a surgery for your sister and your political aspirations?”

He blinked, confused by the question. “They're still there, Trish, just like before.”

Avoiding his gaze, she rested her chin on her knees, eyes wandering into a faraway stare. “You've always been honest with me, Jamie, making it clear you have aspirations to rise to the top. Politically, yes, but also to provide for your family, which is something I've always admired. Especially your dream to acquire a surgery for your sister.” A muscle jerked in the smooth line of her throat. “So you see—I was never foolish enough to think it was just me you wanted.”

“Trish, please—”

She turned to face him, twinges of sadness in her face. “Do you deny it?”

He drew in a harsh breath and slowly released it again, his voice barely audible. “No.”

“Thank you for being honest,” she whispered, returning her gaze to the water. “You know, Jamie, it's a tight-knit group, the families of Nob Hill, and women do talk.” A sigh shuddered from her lips. “Especially about a man like you.”

His eyelids weighted closed with a silent groan, his words to Bram returning to haunt.
May as well fall in love with a rich girl as a poor one, right?
His anger rose to battle his guilt. And why not? The cause was just and his mother and sister were worth it.

And you?
He blanched at the taunt of an inner voice.

She continued, her words as shaky as his conscience. “Of c-course, we all found it curious you only pursued wealthy girls with strong political connections, but none of us pretended we didn't know why.”

“Trish . . .” His voice was a pained whisper.

“Oh, it didn't matter to me, I assure you, because my affection for you runs deep. Deep enough to help you achieve all your heart longs for with my money and influence.” She paused, her eyes slowly capturing his as her voice faded to soft. “Deep enough to talk to my father about his connections with Cooper Medical for your sister's pro bono surgery.”

The breath seized in his throat before it escaped once again in short, shallow breaths, his pulse pounding so loud in his ears, he thought he'd heard wrong. “W-what did you say?”

Her eyes softened. “I know how much your sister means to you, Jamie, and I know you've worked hard to procure a surgery for her someday. My father admires that and said if it means that much to the man who courts his daughter, then it means a lot to him and he wants to help.”

The man who courts his daughter.
Blood drained from his face so fast, his vision blurred. Hand to his eyes, he swallowed hard, tongue as parched as the brittle dock bleached by the sun.