By Request Collection April-June 2016. Оливия Гейтс
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Patrick Lightman, I’ve gone from villain to heroine in the twenty-four-hour news cycle. So I’ll be an asset sitting second chair in the Bronwell trial.”
“You will. But you don’t sound happy about it,” Duncan said.
“I am.” She just wasn’t as happy as she’d thought she’d be.
“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” Duncan asked.
“Yes, it is.” She remembered standing in the kitchen the evening before, telling Vi that this was exactly what she wanted. Her old life back. She’d wanted what she’d had before her apartment floor had been turned into an imitation of a crime scene. She’d wanted normal. And she still wanted to work for Abe. With all his flaws, he was the best teacher she could have at this stage of her career. But…
Piper glanced around the table and noticed three sets of interested eyes on them. She shifted her gaze back to Duncan. “We have to talk. Now.” Then she turned and walked back out on the patio. When Duncan joined her, she led the way to the far end, then whirled to face him.
“We have to get this settled now once and for all. I know that you played a role in Abe’s decision to call me.”
When he opened his mouth to speak, she held up a hand. “Don’t try to explain. And I know I should be thanking you. I am thanking you. It’s what I wanted.”
“The thing is, I don’t need you to play white knight. I can take care of myself.” And that was true. It just wasn’t what she’d wanted to say.
Duncan studied her in the dimming light. She looked like a huntress again, and if he hadn’t already fallen in love with her, he would have right in that moment.
Beyond one of her shoulders, he saw the sun, a large orangey-red ball, sinking slowly toward the lake. In a matter of minutes, it would be gone. And it reminded him of how quickly time passed. And of how much you could lose out on if you hesitated too long.
“I agree. You can take care of yourself, and we do need to settle this.” He took her hand and drew her quickly along the path that wound through the garden. He didn’t stop until they were standing beneath the stone arch.
“Okay,” he said. “I think it’s only appropriate to settle everything in the place where everything began between us.”
“Yes.” Her gaze strayed to the spot on the right side of the arch where the metal box was hidden. Then she clasped her hands together. “You’re right. Everything did begin here. With that fantasy I wrote out. And … I think … I …”
Duncan narrowed his gaze on her. Had he ever seen her at a loss for words?
She twisted her fingers together and met his eyes. “I know what you’re going to say. It’s just … I …”
It was only the second time he’d ever seen her rattled. He’d be a fool not to take advantage of it. Stepping forward he took one of her hands and linked his fingers with hers. And just that contact had his own tension easing a bit. Keeping his eyes steady on hers, he raised her hand to his lips. “You don’t know what I’m going to say, Piper. Because I’m winging it here. I don’t have your way with words. But I didn’t bring you here because of that fantasy you wrote all those years ago.”
“You didn’t?”
“No. I brought you here because I thought it was the best place to explain exactly what I want. I’m taking a page from your book, and Angus and Eleanor’s book. I want to tap into every bit of the power of the stones, just as they did.”
When she simply stared at him, speechless, Duncan felt one flutter of panic. But there was no way he was going to back down or revert to sitting on the sidelines. No way. “I love you, Piper.”
When she continued to stare at him, the panic fluttered again. “I know you like things neat, but I can’t promise you that. And I can’t promise you that I’m not going to want to take care of you. Because I intend to keep doing that for a very long time.”
She still said nothing, but even in the shadows, Duncan caught the sheen of tears in her eyes. Panic did more than flutter this time. It spiked through him like a spear.
When she opened her mouth to speak, he tightened his grip on her fingers. “You are not going to talk me out of this. Don’t even try.”
“Okay.”
“Okay?”
Her smile spread slowly, and fear and panic flowed out of him just as easily as the one tear that rolled down her cheek.
“I didn’t want this to happen,” she said.
“Ditto.” He smiled at her. “But it has. So we have to deal with it. Don’t run away, Piper MacPherson.”
“No, I won’t. And we will deal with it, Duncan Sutherland.” She rose on her toes and used her free hand to bring his face down to hers. “Together. Because I love you, too. So kiss me again beneath the stones. Might as well tap into as much of that power as we can.”
He did, and as they both sank into the kiss, the stones surrounding them sighed.
Debbi Rawlins
DEBBI RAWLINS grew up in the country with no fast-food drive-throughs or nearby neighbors, so one might think as a kid she’d be dazzled by the bright lights of the city, the allure of the unfamiliar. Not so. She loved Westerns in movies and books, and her first crush was on a cowboy—okay, he was an actor in the role of a cowboy, but she was only eleven, so it counts. It was in Houston, Texas, where she first started writing for Mills & Boon, and now, more than fifty books later, she has her own ranch … of sorts. Instead of horses, she has four dogs, five cats, a trio of goats and free-range cattle keeping her on her toes on a few acres in gorgeous rural Utah. And of course, the deer and elk are always welcome.
FROM HER PERCH ON THE PORCH railing at the Sundance ranch, Annie Sheridan took what she called a memory shot. If she’d had her beloved old Nikon she’d have pulled it out and centered the lens on the familiar faces of her hosts, but the spectacular sunset against the Rocky Mountains would have been the star. Only to the casual observer, though, which Annie most definitely was not.
She’d become an expert at the art of watching from a distance. It didn’t even bother her that much, not anymore. Two years into exile, she’d grown used to being the strange woman who ran the Safe Haven large-animal sanctuary, the one who never came to parties unless there was something her shelter needed—a favor, a donation, an adoptive home. Of course everyone in Blackfoot Falls knew who she was, and it would have stunned her if the residents of the small town hadn’t made up at least a dozen stories to explain her hermit ways.
No one, she was sure, would ever come close to the truth.
She sipped from her glass of white zinfandel, a rare treat along with the scrumptious steak and baked potato she’d had earlier. The last time she’d eaten at a party was…in another life.
That sobering thought had her off the railing and heading toward Barbara McAllister and the cluster of family that surrounded the Sundance matriarch. If Annie let herself yearn for anything these days—outside of more money for Safe Haven—it was the friendship of this clan. The three brothers—Cole, Jesse and Trace—were always willing to lend a hand during an emergency. Jesse had saved many a poor animal’s life, or given a horse or a llama or a potbellied pig a new home with his rescue airlifts.
Then there was Rachel and her boyfriend, Matt, so giddily in love. In the past six months two of the three McAllister brothers