Megan's Mate

Chapter 6

“I don't see what all the damn to-do's about,” Dutch grumbled as he whipped a delicate egg froth for his angel food cake surprise.

“Trenton St. James II is a member of the family.” Running on nerves, Coco checked the temperature on her prime rib. She had a dozen things to deal with since the cucumber facial she'd indulged in had thrown off her timetable. “And the president of the St. James hotels.” Satisfied that the beef was coming along nicely, she basted her roast duck. “As this is his first visit to The Retreat, it's important that everything run smoothly.”

“Some rich bastard coming around to freeload.”

“Mr. Van Horne!” Coco's heart lurched. After six months, she knew she shouldn't be shocked by the man. But, really. “I've known Mr. St. James for... well, a great number of years. I can assure you he is a successful businessman, an entrepreneur. Not a freeloader.”

Dutch sniffed, gave Coco the once-over. She'd done herself up good and proper, he noted. The fancy-shmancy dress glittered and flowed down, stopping plenty short to show off her legs. Her cheeks were all pink, too. And he didn't think it was from kitchen heat. His lips curled back in a sneer.

“So what's he, your boyfriend?”

The pink deepened to rose. “Certainly not. A woman of my...experience doesn't have boyfriends.” Surreptitiously she checked her face in the stainless-steel exhaust hood on the stove. “Beaux, perhaps.”

Beaux. Ha! “I hear he's been married four times and pays enough alimony to balance the national debt. You looking to be number five?”

Speechless, Coco pressed a hand to her heart. “You are—” She stumbled, stuttered, over the words. “Impossibly rude. Impossibly crude.”

“Hey, ain't none of my never-mind if you want to land yourself a rich fish.”

She squeaked. Though the rolling temper that caused red dots to swim in front of her eyes appalled her—she was, after all, a civilized woman—she surged forward to ram a coral-tipped nail into his massive chest. “I will not tolerate any more of your insults.”

“Yeah?” He poked her right back. “Whatcha gonna do about it?” She leaned forward until they were nose-to-nose. “I will fire you.”

“Now that'll break my heart. Go ahead, fancy face, give me the boot. See how you get by with tonight's dinner rush.”

“I assure you, I will 'get by' delightfully.” Her heart was beating too fast. Coco wondered it didn't soar right out of her breast.

“Like hell.” He hated her perfume. Hated that it made his nostrils twitch and his mouth water. “When I came on board, you were barely treading water.”

She couldn't get her breath, simply couldn't. “This kitchen doesn't need you, Mr. Van Horne. And neither do I.”

“You need me plenty.” How had his hands gotten onto her shoulders? Why were hers pressed to his chest? The hell with how or why, he thought. He'd show her what was what.

Her eyes popped hard when his hard, sneering mouth crushed down on hers in a very thorough kiss. But she didn't see a thing. Her world, so beautifully secure, tilted under her feet. That was why—naturally that was why—she clung to him.

She would slap his face. She certainly would. In just a few minutes.

Damn women, Dutch thought. Damn them all. Especially tall, curvy, sweet-smelling females with lips like... cooking cherries. He'd always had a weakness for tartness.

He jerked her away, but kept his big hands firm on her shoulders. “Let's get something straight....” he began.

“Now look here…” she said at the same time.

They both leaped apart like guilty children when the kitchen door swung open.

Megan stood frozen in the doorway, her jaw dropping. Surely she hadn't seen what she thought she'd seen. Coco was checking the oven, and Dutch was measuring flour into a bowl. They couldn't have been...embracing. Yet both of them were a rather startling shade of pink.

“Excuse me,” she managed. “I'm sorry to, ah...”

“Oh, Megan, dear.” Flustered, Coco patted her hair. She was tingling, she realized. From embarrassment—and annoyance, she assured herself. “What can I do for you?”

“I just wanted to check a couple of the kitchen expenses.” She was still goggling, her eyes shifting from Coco to Dutch and back. The tension in the room was thicker than Coco's split-pea soup. “But if you're busy, we can do it later.”

“Nonsense.” Coco wiped her sweaty palms on her apron. “We're just a little frantic preparing for Trenton's arrival.”

“Trenton? Oh, I'd forgotten. Trent's father's expected.” She was cautiously backing out of the room. “We don't need to do this now.”

“No, no.” Oh, Lord, Coco thought, don't leave me. “Now's a perfect time. We're under control here. Let's do it in your office, shall we?” She took Megan firmly by the arm. “Mr. Van Horne can handle things for a few minutes.” Without waiting for his assent, she hurried from the room. “Details, details,” Coco said gaily, and clung to Megan as though she were a life raft in a churning sea. “It seems the more you handle, the more there are.”

“Coco, are you all right?”

“Oh, of course.” But she pressed a hand to her heart. “Just a little contretemps with Mr. Van Horne. But that's nothing I can't deal with.” She hoped. “How are your accounts coming along, dear? I must say I'd hoped you'd find time to glance at Fergus's book.”

“Actually, I have-”

“Not that we want you working too hard.” With the buzz going on in Coco's head, she didn't hear a word Megan said. “We want you to feel right at home here, to enjoy yourself. To relax. After all the trouble and excitement last year, we all want to relax. I don't think any of us could stand any more crises.”

“I do not have, nor do I require, a reservation.”

The crackling, irate voice stopped Coco in her tracks. The becoming flush in her cheeks faded to a dead white.

“Dear God, no. It can't be.”

“Coco?” Megan took a firmer grip on Coco's arm. She felt the tremor and wondered if she could hold the woman up if she fainted.

“Young man.” The voice rose, echoing off the walls. “Do you know who I am?”

“Aunt Colleen,” Coco said in a shaky whisper. She let go one last shuddering moan, drew in a bracing breath, then walked bravely into the lobby. “Aunt Colleen,” she said in an entirely different tone. “What a lovely surprise.”

“Shock, you mean.” Colleen accepted her niece's kiss, then rapped her cane on the floor. She was tall, thin as a rail and formidable as iron in a raw-silk suit and pearls as white as her hair. “I see you've filled the place with strangers. Better to have it burned to the ground. Tell this insolent boy to have my bags taken up.”

“Of course.” Coco gestured for a bellman herself. “In the family wing, second floor, first room on the right,” she instructed.

“And don't toss those bags around, boy.” Colleen leaned on her gold-tipped cane and studied Megan, “Who's this?”

“You remember Megan, Aunt Colleen. Sloan's sister? You met at Amanda's wedding.”

“Yes, yes.” Colleen's eyes narrowed, measured, “Got a son, don't you?” Colleen knew all there was to know about Kevin. Had made it her business to know.

“Yes, I do. It's nice to see you again, Miss Calhoun.”

“Ha. You'd be the only one of this lot who thinks so.” Ignoring them both, she walked to Bianca's portrait, studied it and the emeralds glistening in their case. She sighed, but so quietly no one could hear.

“I want brandy, Cordelia, before I take a look at what you've done to this place.”

“Of course. We'll just go into the family wing. Megan, please, join us.” It was impossible to deny the plea in Coco's eyes.

A few moments later, they had settled into the family parlor. Here, the wallpaper was still faded, peeling in spots. There were scars on the floor in front of the fireplace where errant embers had seared and burned.

“Nothing's changed here, I see.” Colleen sat like a queen in a wing chair.

“We've concentrated on the hotel wing.” Nervous and babbling, Coco poured brandy. “Now that it's done, we're beginning renovations. Two of the bedrooms are finished. And the nursery's lovely.”

“Humph.” She'd come specifically to see the children—and only secondarily to drive Coco mad.

“Where is everyone? I come to see my family and find nothing but strangers.”

“They'll be along. We're having a dinner party tonight, Aunt Colleen.” Coco kept the brilliant smile plastered on her face. “Trent's father's joining us for a few days.”

“Aging playboy,” Colleen mumbled into her brandy. “You.” She pointed at Megan. “Accountant, aren't you?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

“Megan's a whiz with figures,” Coco said desperately. “We're so grateful she's here. And Kevin, too, of course. He's a darling boy.”

“I'm talking to the girl, Cordelia. Go fuss in the kitchen.” “But-”

“Go on, go on.”

With an apologetic look for Megan, Coco fled. “The boy'll be nine soon?”

“Yes, in a couple of months.” She was prepared, braced, for a scathing comment on his lineage.

Tapping her fingers on the arm of the chair, Colleen nodded. “Get along with Suzanna's brood, does he?”

“Very well. They've rarely been apart since we arrived.” Megan did her best not to squirm. “It's been wonderful for him. And for me.”

“Dumont bothering you?”

Megan blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Don't be a fool, girl, I asked if that excuse for a human being has been bothering you.”

Megan's spine straightened like a steel rod. “No. I haven't seen or heard from Baxter since before Kevin was born.”

“You will.” Colken scowled and leaned forward. She wanted to get a handle on this Megan O'Riley. “He's been making inquiries.”

Megan's fingers clenched on the snifter of brandy. “I don't understand.”

“Poking his nose in, asking questions.” Colleen gave her cane an imperious thump.

“How do you know?”

“I keep my ear to the ground when it comes to family.” Eyes bright, Colleen waited for a reaction, got none. “You moved here, didn't you? Your son's been accepted as Alex and Jenny—and Christian's— brother.”

Ice was forming in Megan's stomach, thin, brittle strips of it. “That has nothing to do with him.”

“Don't be a fool. A man like Dumont thinks the world revolves around him. His eye's on politics, girl, and the way that particular circus is running, a few well-chosen words from you to the right reporter...” The idea was pleasant enough to make Colleen smile. “Well, his road to Washington would be a steeper climb.”

“I've no intention of going to the press, of exposing Kevin to public attention.”

“Wise.” Colleen sipped again. “A pity, but wise. You tell me if he tries anything. I'd like to tangle with him again.”

“I can handle it myself.”

Colleen lifted one snowy brow. “Perhaps you can.”

“How come I have to wear a dumb tie?” Kevin squirmed while Megan fumbled with the knot. Her fingers had been stiff and cold ever since her talk with Colleen.

“Because it's a special dinner and you need to look your best.” “Ties are stupid. I bet Alex doesn't have to wear a stupid tie.”

“I don't know what Alex is wearing,” Megan said, with the last of her patience. “But you're doing as you're told.”

The sharp tone, rarely heard, had his bottom lip poking out. “I'd rather have pizza.”

“Well, you're not having pizza. Damn it, Kevin, hold still!” “It's choking me.”

“I'm going to choke you in a minute.” She blew her hair out of her eyes and secured the knot. “There. You look very handsome.”

“I look like a dork.”

“Fine, you look like a dork. Now put your shoes on.”

Kevin scowled at the shiny black loafers. “I hate those shoes. I want to wear my sneakers.”

Exasperated, she leaned down until their faces were level. “Young man, you will put your shoes on, and you will watch your tone of voice. Or you'll find yourself in very hot water.”

Megan marched out of his room and across the hall to her own. Snatching her brush from the dresser, she began to drag it through her hair. She didn't want to go to the damn dinner party, either. The aspirin she'd downed an hour before hadn't even touched the splitting headache slicing through her skull. But she had to put on her party face and go down, pretend she wasn't terrified and angry and sick with worry over Baxter Dumont.

Colleen might be wrong, she thought. After all, it had been nearly a decade. Why would Baxter bother with her and Kevin now?

Because he wanted to be a United States senator. Megan closed her eyes.

She read the paper, didn't she? Baxter had already begun his campaign for the seat. And an illegitimate son, never acknowledged, hardly fit the straight-arrow platform he'd chosen.

“Mom.”

She saw Kevin's reflection in the mirror. His shoes were on—and his chin was on his chest. Guilt squeezed its sticky fingers around her heart. “Yes, Kevin.”

“How come you're so mad at everything?”

“I'm not.” Wearily she sat on the edge of the bed. “I've just got a little headache. I'm sorry I snapped at you.” She held out her arms, sighing when he filled them. “You're such a handsome dork, Kev.” When he laughed, she kissed the top of his head. “Let's go down. Maybe Alex and Jenny are here.”

They were, and Alex was just as disgusted with his tie as Kevin was with his. But there was too much going on for the boys to sulk for long. There were canape's to gobble, babies to play with and adventures to plan.

Everyone, naturally, was talking at once.

The volume in the room cut through Megan's aching head like a rusty saw. She accepted the flute of champagne Trenton II offered her, and did her best to pretend an interest in his flirtation. He was trim and tall and tanned, glossily handsome and charming. And Megan was desperately relieved when he turned his attentions on Coco.

“Make a nice couple, don't they?” Nathaniel murmured in her ear. “Striking.” She took a cube of cheese and forced it down.

“You don't look in the party mood, Meg.”

“I'm fine.” To distract him, she changed the subject. “You might be interested in what I think I might have walked in on this afternoon.”

“Oh?” Taking her arm, he steered her toward the open terrace doors. “Coco and Dutch.”

“Fighting again? Saucepans at twenty paces?”

“Not exactly.” She took a deep breath of air, hoping it would clear her head. “They were... at least I think they were...”

Nathaniel's brows shot up. He could fill in the blanks himself. “You're joking.”

“No. They were nose-to-nose, with their arms around each other.” She managed to smile even as she rubbed at the throbbing in her temple. “At my unexpected and ill-timed entrance, they jumped apart as if they'd been planning murder. And they were blushing. Both of them.”

“The Dutchman, blushing?” Nathaniel started to laugh, but it began to sink in. “Good God.”

“I think it's sweet.”

“Sweet.” He looked back inside, where Coco, regally elegant, was laughing over something Trenton had whispered in her ear. “She's out of his league. She'll break his heart.”

“What a ridiculous thing to say.” Lord, why didn't her head just fall off her shoulders and give her some relief? “Sporting events have leagues, not romances.”

“The Dutchman and Coco.” It worried him, because they were two of the very few people in the world he could say he loved. “You're the accountant, sugar, and you're going to tell me that adds up?”

“I'm not telling you anything,” she shot back. “Except I think they're attracted to each other. And stop calling me 'sugar.'“

“Okay, simmer down.” He looked back down at her, focused on her. “What's the matter?”

Guiltily she dropped her hand. She'd been massaging her temple again. “Nothing.”

With an impatient oath, he turned her fully to face him, looked into her eyes. “Headache, huh? Bad one?”

“No, it's- Yes,” she admitted. “Vicious.”

“You're all tensed up.” He began to knead her shoulders. “Tight as a spring.”

“Don't.”

“This is purely therapeutic.” He rubbed his thumbs in gentle circles over her collarbone. “Any pleasure either of us gets out of it is incidental. Have you always been prone to headaches?”

His fingers were strong and male and magical. It was impossible not to stretch under them. “I'm not prone to headaches.”

“Too much stress.” His hands skimmed lightly up to her temples. She closed her eyes with a sigh. “You bottle too much up, Meg. Your body makes you pay for it. Turn around, let me work on those shoulders.”

“It's not—” But the protest died away when his hands began to knead at the knots.

“Relax. Pretty night, isn't it? Moon's full, stars are out. Ever walk up on the cliffs in the moonlight, Megan?”

“No.”

“Wildflowers growing right out of the rock, the water thundering. You can imagine those ghosts Kevin's so fond of strolling hand in hand. Some people think it's a lonely place, but it's not.”

His voice and his hands were so soothing. She could almost believe there was nothing to worry about. '“There's a painting at Suzanna's of the cliffs in moonlight,” Megan offered, trying to focus on the conversation.

“Christian Bradford's work—I've seen it. He had a feel for that spot. But there's nothing like the real thing. You could walk with me there after dinner. I'll show you.”

“This isn't the time to fool around with the girl.” Colleen's voice cut through the evening air, and she stamped her cane in the doorway.

Though Megan tensed again, Nathaniel kept his hands where they were and grinned. ”Seems like a fine time to me, Miss Colleen.”

“Ha! Scoundrel.” Colleen's lips twitched. Nothing she liked better than a handsome scoundrel. “Always were. I remember you, running wild through the village. Looks like the sea made a man of you, all right. Stop fidgeting, girl. He's not going to let loose of you. If you're lucky.”

Nathaniel kissed the top of Megan's head. “She's shy.”

“Well, she'll have to get over it, won't she? Cordelia's finally going to feed us. I want you to sit with me, talk about boats.”

“ It would be a pleasure.”

“Well, come on, bring her. Lived on cruise ships half my life or more,” Colleen began. “I'll wager I've seen more of the sea than you, boy.”

“I wouldn't doubt it, ma'am.” Nathaniel kept one hand on Megan and offered Colleen his arm. “With a trail of broken hearts in your wake.”

She gave a hoot of laughter. “Damn right.”

The dining room was full of the scents of food and flowers and candle wax. The moment everyone was settled, Trenton II rose, glass in hand.

“I'd like to make a toast.” His voice was as cultured as his dinner suit. “To Cordelia, a woman of extraordinary talents and beauty.”

Glasses were clinked. From his spy hole at the crack in the doorway, Dutch snorted, scowled, then stomped back to his own kitchen.

“Trent.” C.C. leaned toward her husband, her voice low. “You know I love you.”

He thought he knew what was coming. “Yes, I do.” “And I adore your father.”

“Mmm-hmm...”

“And if he puts the moves on Aunt Coco, I'm going to have to kill him.” “Right.” Trent smiled weakly and began on the first course.

At the other end of the table, sublimely ignorant of the threat, Trenton beamed at Colleen. “What do you think of The Retreat, Miss Calhoun?”

“I dislike hotels. Never use them.”

“Aunt Colleen.” Coco fluttered her hands. “The St. James hotels are worldfamous for their luxury and taste.”

“Can't stand them,” Colleen said complacently as she spooned up soup. “What's this stuff?”

“It's lobster bisque, Aunt Colleen.”

“Needs salt,” she said, for the devil of it. “You, boy.” She jabbed a finger down the table at Kevin. “Don't slouch. You want your bones to grow crooked?”

“No, ma'am.”

“Got any ambitions?”

Kevin stared helplessly, and was relieved when his mother's hand closed over his. “I could be a sailor,” he blurted out. “I steered the Mariner. ”

“Ha!” Pleased, she picked up her wine. “Good for you. I won't tolerate any idlers in my family. Too thin. Eat your soup, such as it is.”

With a quiet moan, Coco rang for the second course.

“She never changes.” Lazily content, Lilah rocked while Bianca suckled hungrily at her breast. The nursery was quiet, the lights were low. Megan had headed for it, figuring it would be the perfect escape hatch.

“She's...” Megan searched for a diplomatic phrase. “Quite a lady.” “She's a nosy old nuisance.” Lilah laughed lightly. “But we love her.”

In the next rocker, Amanda sighed. “As soon as she hears about Fergus's book, she's going to start nagging you.”

“And badgering,” C.C. put in, cradling Ethan.

“And hounding,” Suzanna finished up as she changed Christian's diaper. “That sounds promising.”

“Don't worry.” With a laugh, Suzanna slipped Christian into his sleeper. “We're right behind you.”

“Notice,” Lilah added with a smile, “the direction is behind. ”

“About the book.” Megan flicked a finger over a dancing giraffe on a mobile. “I've made copies of several pages I thought you'd be interested in. He made a lot of notations, about business deals, personal business, purchases. At one point he inventories jewelry—Bianca's, I assume—for insurance purposes.”

“The emeralds?” Amanda's brow rose at Megan's nod. “And to think of all the hours we spent going through papers, trying to find proof that they existed.”

“There's a number of other pieces—hundreds of thousands of dollars' worth in 1913 dollars.”

“He sold nearly everything,” C.C. murmured. “We found the documents of sale. He got rid of anything that reminded him of Bianca.”

“It still hurts,” Lilah admitted. “Not the money, though God knows we could have used it. It's the loss of what was hers, what we won't be able to pass on.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't be.” Amanda rose to lay a sleeping Delia in her crib. “We're too sentimental. I suppose we all feel such a close connection with Bianca.”

“I know what you mean.” It felt odd to admit it, but Megan was compelled. “I feel it, too. I suppose from seeing the references to her in the old book, and having her portrait right there in the lobby.” A bit embarrassed, she laughed. “Sometimes, when you walk down the halls at night, it's almost as if you could sense her.”

“Of course,” Lilah said easily. “She's here.”

“Excuse me, ladies.” Nathaniel stepped inside, obviously comfortable in a nursery inhabited by babies and nursing mothers.

Lilah smiled slowly. “Well, hello, handsome. What brings you to the maternity wing?”

“Just coming to fetch my date.”

When he took Megan's arm, she drew back. “We don't have a date.”

“A walk, remember?” “I never said—”

“It's a lovely night for it.” Suzanna lifted Christian into her arms, cooed to him.

“I have to put Kevin to bed.”

She was digging in her heels, but it didn't seem to be doing any good. “I've already tucked him in.” Nathaniel propelled her toward the doors. “You put Kevin to bed?”

“Since he'd fallen asleep in my lap, it seemed the thing to do. Oh, Suzanna, Holt said the kids are ready whenever you are.”

“I'm on my way.” Suzanna waited until Megan and Nate were out of earshot before she turned to her sisters. “What do you think?”

Amanda smiled smugly. “I think it's working perfectly.”

“I have to agree.” C.C. settled Ethan comfortably in his crib. “I thought Lilah had lost her mind when she came up with the idea of getting those two together.”

Lilah yawned, sighed. “I'm never wrong.” Then her eyes lit. “I bet we can see them from the window.”

“Spy on them?” Amanda arched her brows. “Good idea,” she said, and darted to the window.

They were outlined in the moonlight that sprinkled the lawn. “You're complicating things, Nathaniel.”

“Simplifying,” he corrected. “Nothing simpler than a walk in the moonlight.”

“That's not where you expect all this to end.”

“Nope. But we're still moving at your pace, Meg.” He brought her hand to his lips, kissed it absently, when they began the climb. “I seem to have this need to be around you. It's the damnedest thing. Can't shake it. So I figure, why try? Why not just roll with it?”

“I'm not a simple woman.” She wished she could be, just for tonight, just for an hour in the starlight. “I have baggage and resentments and insecurities I didn't even realize were there until I met you. I'm not going to let myself be hurt again.”

“No one's going to hurt you.” In a subtle gesture of protection, he slipped an arm around her and looked up at the sky. “Look how big the moon is tonight. Just hanging there. You can see Venus, and the little star that dogs her. There's Orion.” He lifted her hand, tracing the sky with it as he had once traced his charts. “And the Twins. See?”

“Yes.” She watched their joined hands connect stars while the breeze lifted lovingly off the water and stirred the flowers that grew wild in the rock.

Romantic, mysterious, Coco had said. Yes, he was, and Megan realized she was much more susceptible to both than she would have believed.

For she was here, wasn't she, standing on a cliff with a seafaring man whose callused hand held hers, whose voice helped her see the pictures painted by the stars.

His body was warm and solid against hers. And her blood was pumping fast and free in her veins.

Alive. The wind and the sea and the man made her feel so alive.

And perhaps there was something more—those ghosts of the Calhouns'. The cliffs seemed to invite spirits to walk, the air filled with contentment. And the glow of love that had outlasted time.

“I shouldn't be here like this.” But she didn't move away, not even when his lips brushed over her hair.

“Listen,” he murmured. “Close your eyes and listen, and you can hear the stars breathing.”

She obeyed, and listened to the whisper and throb of the air. And of her own heart. “Why do you make me feel this way?”

“I don't have an answer. Not everything adds up neat, Meg.” Because he had a great need to see her face, he turned her gently. “Not everything has to.” And kissed her. His lips skimmed hers, journeyed up to her temple, over her brow and down. “How's the headache?”

“It's gone. Nearly.”

“No. Keep your eyes closed.” His lips traced over them, soft as air, before trailing slowly over her face. “Kiss me back, will you?”

How could she not, when his mouth was so tempting on hers? With a small sound of surrender, she let her heart lead. Just for tonight, she promised herself. Just for a moment.

That slow, melting change almost undid him. She went pliant in his arms, those hesitant lips heating, parting, offering. It took all his willpower not to drag her against him and plunder.

She wouldn't resist. Perhaps he'd known that there would be enough magic on those cliffs to bewitch them both, to seduce her into surrender—and to remind him to take care.

“I want you, Megan.” He took his lips down her throat, up over her jaw. “I want you so much it's got me tied in knots.”

“I know. I wish...” She pressed her face to his shoulder. “I'm not playing games, Nathaniel.”

“I know.” He stroked a hand down her hair. “It would be easier if you were, because I know all the rules.” Cupping her face, he lifted it. “And how to break them.” He sighed, kissed her again, lightly. “They make it damn hard for me, those eyes of yours.” He stepped back. “I'd better take you in.”

“Nathaniel.” She laid a hand on his chest. “You're the first man who's made me...who I've wanted to be with since Kevin was born.”

Something flashed in his eyes, wild, dangerous, before he banked it. “Do you think it makes it easier on me, knowing that?” He would have laughed, if he hadn't felt so much like exploding. “Megan, you're killing me.” But he swung an arm around her shoulders and led her down the cliff path.

“I don't know how to handle this,” she said under her breath. “I haven't had to handle anything like this before.”

“Keep it up,” he warned, “and you're over my shoulder, shanghaied straight to bed. Mine.”

The image gave her a quick thrill, and a guilty one. “I'm just trying to be honest.”

“Try lying,” he said with a grimace. “Make it easier on me.”

“I'm a lousy liar.” She slanted a look at him. Wasn't it interesting, she mused, that for once he was the one at a disadvantage? “It doesn't seem logical that it would bother you to know what I'm feeling.”

“I'm having a lot of trouble dealing with what I'm feeling.” He took a long, steadying breath. “And I'm not feeling logical.” Nor, he thought ruefully, would he sleep tonight. “ 'Desire hath no rest.'“

“What?”

“Robert Burton. Nothing.”

They walked toward the lights of The Towers. The shouting reached them before they crossed the lawn.

“Coco,” Megan said.

“Dutch.” Taking firm hold of Megan's hand, Nathaniel quickened his pace. “You're insulting and obnoxious,” Coco snapped at Dutch, her chin up, her hands planted on her hips.

His massive arms were folded across his barrel of a chest. “I saw what I saw, said what I said.”

“I was not draped all over Trenton like a... a...”

“Barnacle,” Dutch said with relish. “Like a barnacle on the hull of a fancy yacht.”

“We happen to have been dancing.”

“Ha! That's what you call it. We got another name for it. Where I come from, we call it—”

“Dutch!” Nathaniel cut off the undoubtedly crude description.

“There.” Mortified, Coco smoothed down her dress. “You've made a scene.”

“You were the one making a scene, with that smooth-skinned rich boy. Flaunting yourself.”

“F-f-flaunting.” Enraged, she drew herself up to her full, and considerable, height. “I have never flaunted in my life. You, sir, are despicable.”

“I'll show you despicable, lady.”

“Cut it out.” Prepared for fists to fly, Nathaniel stepped between them. “Dutch, what the hell's wrong with you? Are you drunk?”

“A nip or two of rum never rattled my brain.” He glared over Nathaniel's shoulder at Coco. “It's her that's acting snockered. Out of my way, boy, I've got a thing or two left to say.”

“You've finished,” Nathaniel corrected.

“Out of his way.” All eyes turned to Coco. She was flushed, bright-eyed, and regal as a duchess. “I prefer to handle this matter myself.”

Megan tugged gently on her arm. “Coco, don't you think you should go inside?”

“I do not.” She caught herself and added a friendly pat. “Now, dear, you and Nate run along. Mr. Van Horne and I prefer to handle this privately.”

“But—”

“Nathaniel,” Coco said, interrupting her, “take Megan inside now.” “Yes, ma'am.”

“Are you sure we should leave them alone?”

Nathaniel continued to steer Megan to the terrace doors. “You want to get in the middle of that?”

Megan glanced back over her shoulder. “No.” She chuckled, shook her head. “No, I don't think so.”

“Well, Mr. Van Horne,” Coco began, when she was certain they were alone again. “Do you have something more to say?”

“I got plenty.” Prepared for battle, he stepped forward. “You tell that slicktalking rich boy to keep his hands to himself.”

She tossed back her head and enjoyed the mad flutter of her heart when her eyes met his. “And if I don't?”

Dutch growled like a wolf—like a wolf, Coco thought, challenging his mate. “I'll break his puny arms like matchsticks.”

Oh, my, she thought. Oh, my goodness. “Will you, really?”

“Just you try me.” He gave her a jerk, and she let herself tumble into his arms.

This time she was ready for the kiss, and met it head-on. By the time they broke apart, they were both breathless and stunned.

Sometimes, Coco realized, it was up to the woman. She moistened her lips, swallowed hard.

“My room's on the second floor.”

“I know where it is.” A ghost of a smile flitted around his mouth. “Mine's closer.” He swept her into his arms—very much, Coco thought dreamily, like a pirate taking his hostage.

“You're a fine, sturdy woman, Coco.”

She pressed a hand on her thundering heart. “Oh, Niels.”