In the Arms of a Hero. Beverly Barton
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mother’s jewelry.”
“I know. I bought it back,” he said quietly. “I traced you that far during the first week. And then you vanished from the face of the earth.” His fork touched the plate with a clatter, and he looked down at it in surprise, then lifted it to place it carefully beside his knife on the table.
“I thought you were dead, murdered perhaps, or killed in an accident, and someone had hidden your body. I was only too aware that the city was not a safe place for a woman alone.”
She sighed, and her voice held a note of regret. “I’m sorry. Truly I am, Max. I fear I wasn’t thinking rationally when I left. But there was the note.” Her pause was long as she awaited his reply, as if he might admit to the accusations her note had held, listing his sins, one by one.
She prodded him. “You did read my note, didn’t you?”
“Of course I read it. As a matter of fact, I’ve read it since, several times, and it still doesn’t make much sense. At any rate, I was never able to fully understand your reasons for walking away from me.”
“I’m a bit surprised that you even knew I was gone,” she said casually.
He glanced up, aching as he recognized the truth. “You had become like a shadow, Faith, barely causing a ripple in the household. I thought it best to leave you to grieve as you saw fit, I suppose. I certainly hadn’t helped the process by trying to comfort you with my presence.”
Her laughter was broken by a sound that he thought resembled a sob, and he felt a familiar sense of helplessness wash over him as she turned aside. “I don’t recall you even speaking of our son’s death, Max. Let alone offering me any comfort.”
Then she spun to face him, and her face was contorted by pain, her eyes awash with tears she could not hide. “Please. Just eat your breakfast and be on your way. We have nothing else to discuss as far as I’m concerned.”
“We haven’t even begun,” he said quietly. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“What about your business?” Her words were a taunt. “Surely it will fall into ruins without you there at least sixteen hours a day to keep it on the straight and narrow.”
The sound of her voice was shrill now, and if ever he’d seen Faith lose control of her emotions, it was at this moment. Even the tears she’d shed at their son’s funeral had not torn at his heart as her helpless sobs did now.
“I’ve left it in competent hands,” he said. “I’m on hiatus for a while.”
“Well, coming here wasn’t a smart move, Max. I don’t want you in my home,” she said harshly, backing toward an interior doorway. It led into a hallway behind her, and she seemed unaware of all else but the urgency to rid herself of his presence. “Go away,” she said, her voice rising. “Leave me alone.”
From the yard beyond the porch, a call rang out. “Faith! What’s wrong?”
Max turned to look out the screened door, his attention taken by the man who stalked up the steps onto the porch and then into the house. Tall and bronzed by the sun, he was dark-haired, with brilliant blue eyes and a demeanor that might have stricken a lesser man speechless.
Max had faced down wrongdoers in his life, but he was aware that in this case he might be considered to be at fault, and as such, didn’t have the proverbial leg to stand on. But there was always the truth, he decided.
“Faith is my wife,” he said quietly, halting the intruder’s headlong approach.
The man looked to where Faith leaned for support against the wooden framework of the door. “Faith?” he asked again, the query implicit in his voice. Hands clenched at either side, he was a formidable opponent, Max decided, one he’d just as soon not be forced to do battle with.
“Yes.” Her response was a bare whisper. “Max is my husband.”
“Has he threatened you?” the man asked quietly, alert to every nuance of expression, each breath that Max took.
Faith shook her head. “No, not the way you’re thinking, Nicholas.”
“Ah—so you’re the neighbor who has provided my wife with shelter,” Max said, allowing no inflection of sarcasm to enter his voice. He ached with the urge to oust the stranger from the kitchen, though it was a moot question whether or not his attempt would meet with success.
“Faith is living in a house that I own…so I suppose you could say that I’ve provided her with shelter.”
“I should probably thank you, then,” Max said nicely, rising in slow motion, lest the visitor take it in his head to consider him a threat.
“You should probably vacate the premises, is my guess.” Harsh and unyielding, the man stood aside and waved a hand toward the door. “I think you’ve gotten the message that my tenant doesn’t want your company.”
“Please, Max,” Faith said quietly. “Just leave. There’s nothing for you here.”
He hesitated, his eyes taking in the tearstained face, the slumping shoulders, and her arms wrapped in mute agony around her waist, as if she were attempting to soothe an ache that threatened to tear her asunder.
“I’ll leave, Faith. But I’m coming back. I have the right to speak with you. Hell, I have the legal right to haul you back to Boston with me, if I want to push it that far.”
The man she’d called Nicholas spoke up, his words icy, his demeanor threatening. “I wouldn’t try that if I were you, Mr. Hudson. Faith is among friends here.”
“Hudson?” Max felt the stab of pain at her denial of his name. “Her name is Faith McDowell. Mrs. Maxwell McDowell, to be precise. The day she married me, she lost any need for her maiden name.”
“Well, maybe she needs to see a lawyer about having it changed back legally.”
“No, Nicholas.” Faith stepped from the doorway. “Don’t make a fuss over it. It isn’t worth your while. I’m all right. I just want to be left alone.”
Max bowed his head for a moment, bitter disappointment washing through him. He’d never thought to effect such a confrontation with her. He’d hoped to speak about their problems, maybe solve some of the issues she’d apparently thought were important. And now he’d managed to lose even that small opportunity.
Staying would solve nothing.
“There’s a hotel in town,” Faith said quietly.
“I know. My baggage is there. I took a room yesterday.”
“There will be a train heading east tomorrow,” Faith told him. “If you want me to, I’ll come to town and see a lawyer with you, have him draw up paperwork to dissolve our marriage.”
Max shook his head. “No, I’ll go to the hotel and decide what has to be done. If you’ll call off your watchdog, that is.”
“Speaking of dogs, where’s Wolf?” Nicholas asked, a frown creasing his brow.
“There’s a female over on Clay Thomas’s place. Wolf has gone calling, I think.”
“Wolf? Your dog…” Max paused, envisioning a massive guard dog, and was suddenly thankful the absent creature had been stricken by the sudden desire for a mate.
“Yes, my dog is called Wolf.” Faith lifted her chin. “I wouldn’t return in a big hurry, Max. He doesn’t like strangers.”
Chapter Two
Morning brought an end to the restless night she’d endured, and her usual sunny nature was lacking as she stepped onto the back porch. Some critter had threatened her henhouse in the early morning hours, causing the dog to sound an alarm, and then had vanished when she’d peered from the window. Just in case, she decided, she’d be