Motive: Secret Baby. Debra Webb
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the heart he had possessed. The fact that she knew he was still alive had been an accident.
Just another grave mistake in a life filled with far too many repeat blunders. One stormy night almost one year ago Nicholas had come upon her below the cliffs…in that same place where they had last made love. He’d tried to hide but she’d seen him in the shadows. Once the initial shock had passed, they had argued fiercely. The heated fury had evolved into another kind of fire. They’d ended up making love right there in the sand as they had more than four years prior.
His traitorous body relished those forbidden memories.
Another round of frantic pounding echoed through his ramshackle home.
His brow furrowed with annoyance and no small amount of uncertainty. It was too late for Martha, his housekeeper, to have returned for any reason. Nicholas glanced at the clock. Half past eleven. She would be in bed by now.
It had to be Swanson.
And if it was, the news couldn’t be good.
Had more evil struck?
Fear knotted in Nicholas’s gut. Surely Camille’s condition had not taken a turn for the worse. Two weeks ago she had regained consciousness and he had not returned to the hospital.
The night they had made love he had urged her to consider him dead as she had for more than four years. Her life would only be devastated further with him in it. She had let him know in no uncertain terms that she would be happy to do so. She wanted nothing to do with him.
Perhaps it had been the glimpse she’d gotten of him in the moonlight after they’d made love so savagely in the sand.
He’d seen the look of horror on her beautiful face. She’d tried to hide it, but failed. Not that he could blame her.
He was a beast.
And for a while he had hoped she intended to move on with her life. Then she’d disappeared… and he’d blamed himself. One stolen moment with him had brought misfortune to her once more.
More banging on the door.
His visitor was not going away. He turned to the door. “Go away!” he commanded. If it was anyone but the chief, that should be sufficient cause to send them running.
“Nicholas!”
The fear that had twisted his gut now morphed into outright terror.
It was her.
Camille.
Before he could stop the automatic reaction he was at the door, preparing to open it.
When had she been released from the hospital?
What was she doing here?
Though the immediate dangers to Raven’s Cliff and all who resided there had passed, evil still lurked close by. Nicholas could feel it deep in his bones.
The curse.
Nothing would stop it…except the full restoration of the lighthouse and its precious lantern.
And only he could make that happen.
“Nicholas, I will not go away!” Camille’s voice reverberated through the closed door. “Let me in! Please.”
The last word trembled from her.
Something was wrong.
Unable to ignore her urgent plea, he slid back the dead bolt and opened the door.
His heart stumbled at the sight of her. He’d forgotten it was raining outside. A violent storm had come and gone, leaving in its wake a persistent and cleansing rain. Camille stood on his stoop, her clothes soaked and clinging to her shivering body. For one moment his gaze was lost to her beauty. The wet clothing formed to her skin, accenting the curves his hands, even now, longed to caress. Fool.
“I need your help,” she pleaded.
His eyes met hers, and the fear there launched a new terror inside him.
“Come inside.” He stood back, opened the door wider.
She stepped over the threshold, her arms hugged tightly around herself.
That treacherous uncertainty plagued him even as he knew what he should do. “I’ll get you a blanket.”
She started to argue but he turned his back and walked away. In the hall, he rummaged in the linen closet for a towel and a blanket. His housekeeper’s work was reliable. Despite the cottage’s run-down condition she worked diligently to maintain a certain level of cleanliness and orderliness.
Nicholas was grateful she did so without question. She appeared not to care who he was or what he did, only that he paid her a good wage for a good day’s work. For nearly five years that had been enough.
Bracing himself, he returned to where Camille waited. She looked pale and tired. Not well at all. Damp curls snuggled her soft cheeks, underscoring the dark circles beneath her eyes. His pulse reacted with worry and other emotions he fiercely wanted to deny.
“When were you released from the hospital?” He handed her the towel first.
She scrubbed at her face, then smoothed the terry cloth over her hair. “Two days ago.”
The frown etched more deeply into his brow. “You’re feeling better now?” She had teetered on the edge of death for days. He couldn’t believe she’d awakened and walked out of the hospital as if death hadn’t very nearly claimed her. “They determined what made you so ill?”
She clutched the towel at her breast and focused a glower on him. The vulnerability vanished, replaced by what looked like anger. “Don’t pretend to care about my well-being.”
He flinched at the accusation. “Of course I care about your well-being.” He took the towel from her, tossed it aside, then carefully draped the blanket around her shoulders.
She stiffened at the slightest brush of his fingers. The reaction was like a kick to his midsection. But then, what did he expect? Any tender feelings she’d had for his memory had vanished in the wake of the impact of his return…of his betrayal. He had allowed her to believe him dead.
“I need your help.”
Part of him wanted to assure her that whatever she needed he would gladly provide. He’d been supporting Raven’s Cliff’s recovery efforts since he returned. Anonymously, of course. It was the least he could do. But helping Camille would be another tragic mistake. She wouldn’t need money; her family was quite wealthy despite her father’s, the former mayor’s, recent fall from grace. Whatever help Camille thought she needed from him, she was wrong. He would only bring more pain to her life.
“You should go.” He cleared his expression of any emotion. It would be in her best interests if he acted like the beast he appeared to be. “Coming here was a mistake.”
She blinked, stood mute for a long moment as if she didn’t know how to respond to his refusal.
“Your presence could give away my identity. The villagers are already overly curious and suspicious about me,” he offered. He shouldn’t have bothered with an explanation, but that foolish part of him that still loved her so dearly wouldn’t allow the slight.
“I should have known,” she snapped, something far too much like disgust in her tone and her eyes. “Of course you wouldn’t want me to risk revealing the truth. You might be inconvenienced with having to explain yourself.”
He clamped his jaw shut against the denial. Let her believe what she would as long as it sent her on her way.
“If my being here causes you trouble, that’s too bad,” she said, standing her ground. “You have to help me.” She pulled the blanket more tightly around her but even that couldn’t disguise the way her body trembled. “No one else will believe me.”
“Stop.” He couldn’t deal with this. Being in the same room