The Legacy (13 page)

“It would really mean a lot to me if you’d let me stay for a few days,” Quinn said. “I promise I wouldn’t be a bother.”

Caitlin considered the man before her, thinking that it was too bad she was going to have to turn him down. He seemed charming, and his charm was inherent, not forced. She liked him for that. “Mr. O’Neill—”

His smile told her he knew what she was about to say. “You’re going to break my heart if you say no.” She laughed ruefully. “You're not making this easy for me.”

“Good. Then you’ll let me stay?”

“Caitlin pretty much has her hands full,” Nico said, speaking up for the first time. “A guest would be out of the question.”

“He’s right—” she began.

“What’s one more person?” Ramona asked.

All three turned toward her in surprise.

Ramona shrugged, uncomfortable beneath the scrutiny. “Heaven knows we have plenty of space, and I always cook for twenty anyway. And you can charge him enough to cover the cost of those new draperies you’re going to have to order.”

“Ramona’s obviously bored,” Caitlin said to Nico, her tone wry. “Taking care of you and me has lost its challenge.”

“I thought you were going to Boston,” Nico said pointedly to Ramona.

“Plans can be changed,” she said just as pointedly as she crossed the marble floor to them. “Besides, Mr. O’Neill said he only planned to stay for a few days, and Boston will still be there when I get ready to go. Mr. O’Neill, I’m Ramona Johnson.”

Quinn stepped forward and took her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. And thank you.”

“Nothing to thank me for. Caitlin’s is the final decision. ”

“Are you sure about this, Ramona?” Caitlin asked, and at Ramona’s nod, she spread her hands. “Well, if you won’t mind the mess, Mr. O’Neill, and Ramona doesn’t mind the extra work, I don’t suppose there’s any reason why you can’t stay.”

“Thank you, Caitlin,” he said seriously. “I’ll try not to do anything that would make you regret your decision. ”

Ramona spoke up. "We’ll choose you a bedroom, Mr. O’Neill, and then you can help me prepare it. Caitlin, have you moved your things yet?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

“Are you going to need any assistance?”

“I don’t think so. Thank you anyway.”

“IH show you the way, Mr. O’Neill.”

“Quinn, please.”

Nico’s gaze followed the two as they ascended the stairs, Quinn moving easily beside Ramona. He was in good condition, Nico reflected, his body lean and muscled. And the uneasy feeling persisted that there was more to Quinn O’Neill than what he’d told Caitlin.

Is he the man Rettig has sent after me, he wondered grimly.

Six

Gossamer curtains of mist drifted across the cliffs. The sounds of the ocean and the gulls were loud in the early-morning quiet.

Quinn watched Caitlin, as he had ever since he’d arrived two days ago, and thought again how lovely she was. Wearing a flowing white dress, she seemed as ethereal as the diaphanous white haze through which she walked.

“Good morning, Caitlin,” he called when she drew close enough to hear him.

“Good morning. I didn’t know anyone else was up yet. ”

“At six a.m., no matter where I am in the world, my eyes pop open. What’s your excuse?”

She laughed. “I’ve always loved this time of day on the cliffs. Even when I was a little girl, I used to climb out of bed and come here. I considered this time and this place my very own piece of heaven before the day began. I never grew out of that feeling. And now with the work going on at the house, I steal this time before the workmen start arriving at eight.”

Quinn’s expression turned rueful. “And here I’ve intruded. I’m sorry.”

“Oh no, don’t be. Actually, I’m glad I rain into you. I didn’t see you yesterday. I have a feeling you’re taking pains to keep out of the way.”

“You were kind enough to let me stay. The least I can do in return is try not to be a bother.”

She studied him curiously. “Tell me, has being back at SwanSea lived up to your expectations, or are you disappointed?”

He smiled slowly. “My expectations have been more than fulfilled.”

“I'm glad.”

“How is your family these days? I’ve heard rumblings that your uncle Seldon, Senator Deverell, is contemplating a bid for the presidency.”

She laughed. “That’s right. If he decides to go for it, the experts say he’ll win. And Uncle Jacob still holds the title of chairman of the board, but his son Conall pretty much runs Deverell’s these days.”

“And your mother?”

“She’s fine. She’s away at the moment.”

After a moment, Quinn said, “I think your grandfather made a very wise decision to leave SwanSea to you, Caitlin. ”

Through the shifting veils of mist, she stared at the house. “Grandfather said that since I was the only Deverell ever to have been bom here, I had an extraordinary bond to the house. SwanSea has always been special to the Deverells, but he felt that I was the only one of his four children and two grandchildren who could see what my great-grandfather Edward saw in it. Maybe it was because I spent so many years alone here with only my mother, Ramona, and the house for company. The house was almost like a playmate.”

“And now you’re taking steps to share it with others,” Quinn said gently. “That is admirable.”

She shrugged. “Not really. My decision Involves many things. ”

“But I’m willing to bet that at the bottom of all those reasons is love of SwanSea.”

She nodded and looked back at him. “Sometime I’d like you to tell me about the time you spent here. I enjoy hearing stories about how it used to be.”

He turned slightly, so that his expression was partially obscured. “SwanSea’s future will shine every bit as bright as its past, Caitlin. I’m confident. Look, there’s a fishing boat. Makes a pretty picture, doesn’t it, coming out of the mist like that.”

She followed his gaze. “It’s riding low in the water. I guess they’ve already gotten their catch. They must have been out for a few days.”

From his bedroom window, Nico also stared at the fishing boat. He’d seen it before, and something about it bothered him, although he couldn’t decide what. His gaze returned to Caitlin and the man she was talking to.

Quinn O’Neill disturbed him too. A lot. If he’d known when he’d felt Caitlin slip out of bed earlier that she would run Into Quinn, he would have gone with her. He felt no sense of security that this was the start of Quinn’s second full day here and so far he had made no overt moves. Quinn was watching him just as he was watching Quinn. Maybe he was exactly what he seemed, but Nico seriously doubted it. But whatever and whoever Quinn was, he could handle him.

Caitlin was another matter. Nico had no confidence that their situation would be as simple. She’d not only trusted him into her home; now she’d trusted him into her bed. There were times when he felt like the lowest of the low, a first-class bastard. But at night, when they made love, he forgot everything but her. And despite his guilty conscience, whether it was daylight or dark, he knew he’d do everything in his power, honest or dishonest, to keep her with him.

With fresh determination when Caitlin was busy, he had intensified his search of the attic, the most likely place where something from long ago would have been stored.

But he’d made a crucial decision. He could no longer go on without telling Caitlin. He didn’t want to hurt her. And no matter her reaction, he didn’t want to deceive her.

The mist was lifting; the sun was coming out. Quinn and Caitlin were walking toward the house. Nico's mouth curved with a tender smile as he looked down on Caitlin. No, he thought. He didn’t want to hurt her. He wanted only to love her.

Clusters of glass grapes hung from the ceiling at different lengths in a fantasy grape arbor created by Louis Comfort Tiffany. Each cluster sheathed a light and cast a iridescent glow over Nico’s bedroom that evening. Fresh from the shower, he lay across the end of the bed, his elbow propping up his head, a towel draped over his hips.

A few feet away, Caitlin swept a silver-backed brush through her hair. Her every movement caused light to flow through the folds of the pale gold silk nightgown.

“I can’t believe that one hundred rolls of wallpaper were delivered today and not one of them was the right pattern,” she was saying.

“Why can’t you believe it?” he asked absently, enthralled by her feminine rituals. Each pass of the brush through her hair brought more life and luster to the long strands.

She paused, giving his question thought. “I don’t know. I suppose I expected that because it was SwanSea being renovated, everyone involved would give their all.” Unexpectedly, the sound of her laughter erupted, spreading a tvarmth through the room and him. “I guess it was a pretty absurd assumption on my part, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t think you were that far off base. The men who you have working for you seem very conscientious.”

“They are. But then, most of them have grown up around here, and they have relatives who’ve worked for the family. Some even have ancestors who helped build the house. But the supplies I’m dealing with long-distance have never seen SwanSea.”

“It will all work out,” he said softly.

“I know. And we do have the electricity back.”

“I didn’t mind using candles.”

“I didn’t either, now that you mention it.” The smile she gave him spoke of a sexual familiarity, and it sent desire tingling through him. Any second now, his decision would become secondary to his desire, and he couldn’t let that happen.

“There is something I have to tell you, Caitlin.” She tossed the brush onto a chair, pushed him back on the bed, and slid on top of him, arranging herself so that she lay full length over him. She dropped a kiss on his mouth, then crossing her arms on his chest, she propped her chin on her arms. “You’re frowning. Why?”

“Because of what I have to tell you.” He smiled with regret. “And Caitlin, I can only think of one thing when you’re on top of me.”

“What’s so bad about that?” she asked and pressed a kiss on his chin.

“Not a damn thing. But ...” He shifted out from under her, took a pair of shorts from the wardrobe, and slipped them on.

She sat up and eyed him worriedly. “Whatever this is, it must be bad if you have to get dressed.” His lips twisted. “I’m getting dressed because with the two of us wearing little or nothing, I can’t forget, even for a few minutes, how very much I want you.” She sighed. “Okay, Nico, what is it?”

He braced his hands on his hips, searching his mind for some way to make the next few minutes easier for both of them. But there was no way. “Caitlin, I want you to know that I’ve systematically searched quite a bit of your house. In fact, I chose SwanSea as a place to recuperate because of my search.”

The color in her face slowly drained away.
“What?"
“It’s true,” he said grimly. “In fact, you caught me in the act one day as I was looking through the desk in the study. Remember?”

“Yes, but you said you were writing a letter to your great-grandmother and you needed a pen.”

“A story I had prepared, just in case someone walked in and found me.”

She couldn’t begin to guess what he was leading up to, but she knew if it were bad, she was vulnerable. Her love for him had left her wide open. But this couldn’t be as bad as it sounded, she thought, refusing to jump to any conclusions. “I don’t understand what it is you’re trying to tell me. ”

“Just wait. I’m afraid your confusion is going to get worse. I’d do anything to spare us this, but from this moment on, I’m resolved there will be no more secrets between us.”

“You’re scaring me, Nico.”

He knelt in front of the bed and took her hand. “Don’t be afraid. What I’m about to tell you, Caitlin, holds importance only for people long dead and one very sick old woman. Try to remember that.”

“All right.”

“This concerns your great-grandfather Edward and his firstborn son and legitimate heir, John—my great-grandfather. ”

“Your
what?"
Shock made her whisper.

His lips briefly compressed. “I understand how hard this must be for you, but hear me out. I told you that Elena is ill and that lately she’d been speaking to me of a time long ago when she was a young woman in Italy. One night, right before I was shot, I made one of my regular visits to her, and she told me something I’d never heard before. In fact, none of the family had ever heard this story. It was so fantastic, we weren’t even sure it was true. We’re still not.”

“What did she tell you?”

“The young man she met and married in 1916, when she was seventeen years old, was John Deverell.” She looked at him oddly. “John died in the war. That’s why Edward sought out grandfather.” She thought for a minute. “You think John and Elena married?”

“I’m only telling you what Elena told me. Do you know any details about John?”

“No, not really. I’m not sure anyone in the family does.”

“Well, the DiFrenzas have never known anything except that Elena’s husband was named John. She told me the rest of the story that night. In 1913, when John was eighteen, he left America to go on a grand tour. I gather there were some problems with his father, but she wasn’t specific. The war began to break out in Europe, country by country, but John didn’t want to return home. He liked being independent. Eventually, he must have been caught up in the fervor of the war because he enlisted in the Italian underground where he was really out of his father’s reach. He and Elena met and married, and not too much longer after that, in 1917, he was killed. According to Elena, Edward knew nothing about her or her marriage to John, or that before his death, they had conceived a child. When the child was born, Elena named him Giovanni—John. My grandfather.”

Caitlin could only stare at him, staggered by what she was hearing.

“Europe had been ravaged by the war,” he said, “and Elena, all alone with her infant son, wrote to Edward of her marriage to John and of the child. She entered her son’s name in her family Bible beneath his father’s signature, inserted her letter of explanation between its pages along with her marriage certificate, wrapped up the Bible and mailed it off to America. John had told her his father was a hard man, but Elena was confident that with the documentation she was sending him, he wouldn’t ignore the fact that he had a grandson, that he would send for them as soon as he received the package. Days turned into months and months into years, and Elena never heard from Edward.”