Forever Wife And Mother. Grace Green
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Wide, warm, sincere. A generous flash of blindingly white teeth, a merry twinkle of laughing green eyes, an irresistibly seductive charisma.
Caprice felt her pulse scatter in wild disarray and she struggled to get it back to its regular rhythm. Wherever this man went, she decided dazedly, he must surely leave a trail of broken hearts behind.
He rested his hands on his hips. “Mrs. Kincaid—”
She forced herself to pay attention. “It’s Caprice.”
“Caprice. What can I offer you? Bacon and eggs? Sausage, tomatoes, mushrooms, hash browns?”
“Thanks, but I don’t eat a cooked breakfast.”
“Lucky for you!” Will sputtered over a mouthful of her cereal. “’Cause Dad can’t cook worth a—well, he just can’t cook! Coffee and bacon burgers are his specialties—and toast—but he even sometimes burns the toast!” She giggled as her father put on a highly indignant expression.
“Young lady!” He waved a teaspoon at her. “You’d better remember which side your bread is buttered on or you’ll be sent off to boarding school—”
He broke off as the phone rang. Excusing himself, he crossed the room to answer it.
As he talked to someone, Will said confidently, “Don’t worry, Mrs. Kincaid, my dad would never send me away. He’d miss me too much. Also,” she whispered confidingly, “he couldn’t possibly send me to boarding school. We couldn’t afford it. He’s been saving every spare penny for years to buy a piece of riverfront property…if one should ever come up for sale. Which it doesn’t look like it’s ever gonna,” she finished in a rush as her father put down the phone. She looked up, all wide-eyed and innocent, as he returned to the table.
He sat across from Caprice. “That was Mark’s mother, Will. She can’t drive you and Mark to school today. I told her I’ll do it.” He shifted his attention to Caprice. “So once you’ve had breakfast and got your things organized, I’ll see you on your way. I’ll have to lock up here before I take off to pick up Mark. He lives quite a way from here.”
“Of course.”
Caprice was surprised to find herself reluctant to leave. Half an hour ago, she’d been feeling restless, impatient to get to Holly Cottage. But Gabe Ryland was a very intriguing man, and his daughter was delightful, and she was drawn to stay longer. Drawn to get to know them better.
But that would be foolish, she mused as she nibbled a corner of her toast. She had come to the valley to get some answers, and as soon as she got them she’d be gone. There was no point in getting emotionally involved with any of the inhabitants. No point at all.
“Tell me, Mr. Ryland,” she said, “how many staff do you employ here?”
“It’s Gabe. Staff? Half a dozen, give or take. The same people have been coming for the past several years. The housekeeper—”
“That’s Mrs. Malone!” Will said.
“—and a cook—”
“That’s Mrs. Carter, who also looks after me when Dad’s away.”
“—a housemaid and a waitress—”
“Jane and Patsy.” Will finished her glass of milk.
Gabe grinned at her. “An odd job man—”
“Sandy McIntosh.” Will set down the glass and swiped a paper serviette over her mouth. “He drives me to school when Dad’s away—well, he takes turns with Mark’s mom.”
“—and Alex Tremaine—”
“He’s my dad’s best guide and instructor, Mrs. Kincaid. He teaches people how to do rock climbing and mountaineering and canoeing and backpacking, and most of all, how to do white water, and like my dad he teaches people who go on the white-water expeditions. They learn how to read the river and how to paddle and how to be safe. I just can’t wait,” she added eagerly, “for next summer. My dad’s going to take me hiking in the wilderness for the first time. I’ll be nine by then. How old are you, Mrs. Kincaid?”
“Will,” her father chided her gently, “you know better than to ask a lady her age!”
Will grimaced. “Sorry, Mrs. Kincaid, I didn’t mean to be rude.”
“No problem.” Caprice smiled as she gathered her dishes. “I’m going to be twenty-seven in June.”
“Dad’s eight years older than you are. And his birthday’s on the fourth of July. He always makes sure he’s home that day, and we have a gi-normous party, with fireworks.”
“Will.” Her father rose from the table. “If you’re finished, you should go to the guest lounge and—”
“Practice my piano.” Rolling her eyes, the child got up and carted her dishes to the counter. “I know, Dad.” She turned to Caprice. “Goodbye, Mrs. Kincaid, it’s been truly nice meeting you. And thanks for…you know.”
“My pleasure,” Caprice said.
As the child left, Caprice rose and carried her dishes to the counter.
“What was that all about?” Gabe bent over and slotted the dishes into the dishwasher.
“Oh, just girl stuff.”
“Ah.” He straightened. “You made friends quickly. Will’s usually much more cautious in her dealings with strangers.”
“She’s a sweetie. You’ve done a great job of bringing her up. It can’t have been easy for either of you—I mean, for a man to bring up a little girl, and for a little girl to grow up without her mother. Will told me….” Her voice trailed away as she saw him stiffen.
His eyes had become hard, his lips tightly compressed. She felt the air vibrate with tension. She had apparently said the wrong thing, but before she could even open her mouth to murmur sorry, he very pointedly—very rudely!—tilted his forearm and stared at his watch.
Caprice felt her cheeks grow scarlet, partly from embarrassment but more from indignation. “I’ll go now,” she said stiltedly, “and gather my things together. Then I’ll settle my bill and be off.”
“There’s no charge.”
“But—”
“It’ll only screw up my bookkeeping.”
His curt, dismissive tone riled her. She wasn’t used to being spoken to like that, and she didn’t like it. And now she didn’t like him, either!
But she was still a guest at his lodge.
Biting back a stinging retort, she spun on her heel and stalked from the kitchen.
She felt his cold gaze follow her but she’d gone only a few yards along the passage when she heard a frustrated, “Damn!” followed by the loud thump of a clenched fist being smashed against the wall or the countertop.
She raised her eyebrows. Temper, temper!
She was still wondering whether he was angry with her or himself when she reached the foot of the stairs and heard the sound of piano music coming from the lounge. Her mouth twisted in an ironic smile. Will was practicing.
And the piece the child had chosen was “Home Sweet Home.”
“Dad, where was Mrs. Kincaid going after she left the lodge?”
“I didn’t ask.” Gabe turned his Range Rover off the highway and up the Hoopers’ farm road.
“Where did she come from?”
“I don’t know. Why the interest?”
Will hugged her lunch bucket to her chest. “I’m worried about her. She looked sad.”
“Honey, the world is full of sad people. You can’t worry