Hunter's Bride and A Mother's Wish. Marta Perry
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her golden-brown eyes, was appealing, but certainly not his type. He went for sophisticated, not girl-next-door. Pulling this off could be tricky.
“There!” Chloe’s exclamation was filled with satisfaction as they emerged abruptly from yet another stand of pine trees.
He blinked. Ahead of them, lush grass stretched on either side of the road, golden in the sunshine. It might have been a meadow, but the grass grew in water, not earth. In the distance a cluster of palmettos stood dark against the sky, like an island. Sunlight glinted from deeper streams, turning the scene into a bewildering world between earth and sea. His apprehension deepened. Everything about this was alien to him.
Chloe hit the button, and her window whirred down, letting in a flood of warm air that mixed salt, sea and musky vegetation. “Smell that.” She inhaled deeply. “That’s what tells me I’ve come home.” She hung out the window, letting her hair tangle in the breeze.
“Doesn’t smell like home to me. Not unless it includes exhaust fumes, sidewalk vendors and pigeons.”
“Sorry. Would you settle for a great white heron?” She pointed, and he saw an elegant white bird lift its long neck and stare at them.
This was a different Chloe, he realized. One who knew everything here, one who was in her element. Just as he was out of his. The thought made him vaguely uneasy.
The road swept up onto a white bridge, shimmering in the sunshine. Tall pylons marched beside the bridge, feet in the water, carrying power lines.
“We’re crossing the inland waterway,” Chloe said, pressing her palms against the dash as if to force the car to move faster. “And there’s Caldwell Island.”
The car crested the hump in the middle of the bridge, and Chloe’s island lay ahead of them. His breath caught in spite of himself. The surrounding marsh grass made the island shimmer with gold, and it stretched along the horizon like an early explorer’s dream of riches.
“Golden isles,” Chloe said softly, as if she read his thought. “That’s an old name for the sea islands. The Golden Isles.”
The channel merged with marshes, then the marshes merged with the gentle rise of land, as if the island raised itself only reluctantly from the sea. A village drifted along the curve of shore facing the bridge, looking like something out of the last century, or maybe the century before that. A church steeple bisected it neatly.
The island was beautiful. It was desirable. And unless there was something unexpected out of his sight, it was also completely uncommercialized. Excitement stirred in him.
“What’s the ante-bellum mansion? A hotel?”
She glanced toward the far end of the village, then shook her head, smiling. “That’s my uncle Jefferson’s house. Uncle Jeff’s family is the rich branch of the clan. There aren’t any hotels on Caldwell Island, just the inn my parents own and a few guest houses.”
He didn’t want to raise her suspicions, but he risked another comment. “You’re not going to tell me vacationers haven’t discovered this place.”
She seemed too preoccupied to notice, staring out as if cherishing every landmark. “There have always been summer visitors, but they’re people who’ve owned their homes here for generations.” She pointed. “Turn left off the bridge. Town’s only three streets deep, so you can’t get lost. We’ll go straight to the inn. They’ll be waiting.”
He followed her directions, wondering a little at the sureness in her voice. They’ll be waiting.
He passed a small grocery, a bait shop and then what seemed to be a boatyard with the Caldwell name emblazoned on its sign. Before he could ask if her family owned it, Chloe spoke again.
“There it is. That’s The Dolphin.”
The inn sat on their right, facing the waterway, spreading out gracefully under the surrounding trees. The core of the building looked only one room deep, but succeeding generations must have added one wing after another as their families, or their ambitions, grew. Gray shingles blended with the gray-green of the lace-draped live oaks, and rocking chairs dotted a wraparound porch.
“Those are our boats.” She pointed to a covey of boats at the dock on their left. “Everyone’s in. I told you they’d be waiting for us.”
Apparently here they counted boats, instead of cars, to tell them who was where. He drove into a shell-covered driveway and pulled to a stop, discovering a knot of apprehension in his gut.
Ridiculous. He dismissed it quickly. Chloe’s family had no reason to suspect him of anything, and their opinions didn’t matter to him in the least. Simple country people, that’s all they were.
Simple, maybe. But had Chloe warned him there were so many of them? He stepped out of the car into what seemed to be a mob of Caldwells, all talking at once. Chloe was right—they’d been waiting. An unidentifiable breed of half-grown dog bounced around the crowd, its barks adding to the general chaos.
He looked to Chloe for help, but a woman who must be her mother was enveloping her in an enormous hug. A younger woman, with Chloe’s heart-shaped face but auburn hair and green eyes, wrapped her arms around both of them. All three seemed to be talking and crying at once.
“Don’t suppose we’ll get any sense out of those three for a time.”
The rangy, sun-bronzed man who held out a large hand was probably about Luke’s age. Big—that was his first thought. Luke stood six foot, and this guy had a couple of inches on him at least. The hand that grasped his had power behind it. One of the brothers?
“Guess I’d best do the introductions, since our Chloe’s forgotten her manners,” he continued. “I’m Daniel. This is David.”
Luke blinked. There were two of them. “Chloe didn’t mention her brothers were twins.” He shook hands with the other giant, trying to assess the differences between them.
There weren’t many. Both men were big, both sun-brown, both lean and muscular. They had identical brown eyes and identical sun-bleached hair. David wore a pair of wire-rimmed glasses, apparently the only way Luke would ever tell them apart.
“She wouldn’t.” Daniel seemed to do the talking for the pair of them. “She always said it wasn’t fair there were two of us to gang up on her.” He reached out a long arm to pull over a gangly teenager. “This one’s Theo. He’s the baby.”
The boy reddened under his tan, shooting his brother a resentful look before offering his hand to Luke. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
“Luke, please.”
His effort at friendliness just made the boy’s flush deepen. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s Miranda’s boy, Sammy, trying to make his mutt pipe down.” Daniel gestured toward a boy of six or so, wrestling with the dog over a stick. “And this is our daddy, Clayton Caldwell.”
Luke turned, and his smile stiffened on his face. There could be no doubt of the assessment in the sharp hazel eyes that met his gaze. He was abruptly aware of intelligence, shrewdness, questioning.
“Luke. Welcome to Caldwell Cove.” Chloe’s father was fully as tall as his twin sons, his grip just as firm. But despite the words of welcome, the quick friendliness Luke had sensed in Daniel and his brothers was missing here. Clayton Caldwell looked at him as if he’d been measured and had come up wanting. “We’ve been waiting to meet Chloe’s…friend.”
Everything in Luke snapped to attention. Chloe’s father, at least, couldn’t be classified as “simple country folk.” He wasn’t accepting Chloe’s supposed boyfriend at face value.
So this little charade might not be the piece of cake he’d been telling himself. The thought only made his competitive juices start to flow. When the challenges were the greatest, he played his best game.
Chloe had finally broken free of her mother and sister,