Terri Reed - The Secret Heiress

Acting on training and instinct, Don pulled Caroline to the floor and covered her with his body. For a split second, he was catapulted back in time to Afghanistan. His unit had been pinned down under enemy fire in Kandahar. Screams of dying soldiers surrounded him. The dust of mortar shells demolishing the walls of the building where they’d taken refuge filled his nostrils. He could still feel the grit on his skin, in his eyes. Feel the despair building in his chest. The unspoken prayer on his tongue…

“Don?”

Shaking off the memory with a shudder, he eased off Caroline. “You okay?”

“Yes.”

Senses on high alert, Don evaluated the threat level. Whatever had exploded had been outside. No one else had entered the room and there hadn’t been any subsequent explosions or gunshots. For the moment they were safe. He got his feet beneath him and helped Caroline up.

“Mr. Maddox?”

“Still here,” he said with a wry note in his voice.

“What was that?” She clutched his arm as they rose to their feet.

“Not sure.” Quickly orienting himself to the dark, he led her to the window and drew back the curtain. Outside, the answer was clear. A huge oak tree a couple yards from the house had been split in two by lightning. Half of the tree’s charred remains had landed across the power lines. Sparks danced from the exposed wires torn from their fasteners. The other half of the tree landed in the driveway, effectively blocking the rental car.

Caution traipsed up his spine. What were the chances that lightning would strike that tree causing it to fall in exactly that way? He wanted to inspect the trunk. But that would have to wait until he had Caroline in a secure location.

“I guess the option of leaving before the storm gets worse is off the table,” Caroline murmured.

“We can borrow a car.”

She made a scoffing noise. “No.”

“Roger that.” Of course she wouldn’t give in that easily.

Horace appeared in the doorway carrying a lit candle. The glow pushed the shadows to the corners. “Mr. Maddox?”

“We’re okay here,” Elijah answered from the bed. “The others?”

“Everyone is accounted for, sir.” He moved all the way into the room to offer Don a pewter candleholder with a thick unlit candle in the center. “Just until the backup generator kicks in.”

Don took the holder, tipping it so the wick could touch the lit one in Horace’s hand. “Is the power out in the whole house?”

Horace nodded. “Yes. Phone lines down, too. Mrs. Maddox would like to meet you downstairs.” From the research, Don knew that must be Abigail Maddox, the wife of Caroline’s uncle Samuel.

“I don’t think we should leave Mr. Maddox,” Caroline said.

From the bed, Elijah said, “Go on, child. I’m tired and need to rest. Mary will be along shortly to keep me company.”

“Nothing can be done at the moment,” Don stated in a low voice.

“We’ll return shortly,” Caroline assured her grandfather.

Elijah nodded, but his gaze narrowed to Don. “Keep her safe.”

“Of course,” Don replied.

They followed Horace downstairs. When they hit the entryway, quick footsteps coming down the hall heralded the arrival of a stylish woman in her early forties wearing tailored black slacks, a pink cashmere sweater and pearls. Her light blond hair was coiffed in an elegant updo. She carried a lit hurricane lamp that added a bright glow to Don’s candle.

The woman came to a stop in front of Caroline. “You look just like Isabella,” she said in clipped modulated tones, her eyes assessing.

Hearing of her likeness to Isabella from this woman was different than hearing it from Elijah. There was no sentiment in Abigail’s matter-of-fact tone. Just a statement of fact that left Caroline feeling hollow. Elijah had clearly loved his daughter, but there was no indication of warmth or affection coming from her sister-in-law.

“This is Caroline Tully and I’m Don Cavanaugh. Her fiancé,” Don said after a tense heartbeat. “And you are?”

“Abigail Maddox.” Gesturing to the teens coming down the stairs, she said, “My children, Landon and Lilly. Fraternal twins.”

Finding her voice, Caroline said, “Nice to meet you.”

“Children, please go out and retrieve…your cousin and her fiancé’s travel cases and bring them in,” Abigail said.

Caroline’s stomach clenched. Cousins. She’d always wanted cousins. Neither of her adopted parents had siblings. But surely they shouldn’t be sent out into the storm. Lightning had just struck.

The twins’ eyebrows dipped in tandem.

“That’s Horace’s job, Mother,” Landon whined.

Lilly crossed her arms over her chest. “And it’s almost time for dinner!”

“The bags can wait,” Don said. “It’s not safe out there right now.”

Impatience flashed across Abigail’s face. “Please. It’s just a storm. I’m sure you’d like to freshen up before dinner.” Her green eyes narrowed on her children. “Do it.”

Caroline flinched and exchanged a glance with Don. Aunt Abigail certainly wasn’t the warm and fuzzy type.

Landon’s shoulders slumped. “Fine.” He turned his dark-eyed gaze to Don. “Where are your bags?”

Don held out the keys to the rental. “The trunk.”

Landon took the keys and headed toward the door.

His sister stood rooted in place, her hazel gaze studying Caroline. “Why are you here?”

“Lilly, don’t be rude. Your granddad invited them. She’s here to get to know her family.”

The girl snorted her disapproval. “More like she wants his money.”

“No, I don’t,” Caroline blurted quickly. “That’s not why I’m here at all.” She turned her gaze to Abigail. “I just want to know where I came from.”

“Of course, you do,” Abigail said, exaggerated understanding lacing her words. “Don’t pay them any mind.”

Landon pulled open the front door. He glared at his sister.

“Come on, Lilly. You have to help.”

Abruptly, Lilly turned and followed her brother out into the rain.

Abigail let out a long-suffering sigh. “I can’t wait until they outgrow the surly stage.”

Caroline gave a silent sigh of her own. She didn’t want to explain her reason for being here any further to her increasingly worrisome relatives.

A middle-age man came out of the adjacent room. “I see our guests have arrived,” his deep voice boomed.

“Yes, darling,” Abigail said. “Come meet your niece and her young man.”

He held out his hand to Don first. “Samuel Maddox.”

“Donovan Cavanaugh. Call me Don.”

“Good of you to come, Don.” Samuel turned his attention to Caroline with a welcoming smile. “I’m so happy to meet you, Caroline.”

As she shook his hand, she couldn’t help staring into his amber eyes and feeling like she was looking in a mirror. He had raven-colored hair and an olive complexion, much like her own. A blood relative. Her uncle.

“Where are those kids?” Abigail gestured toward the front door with a graceful, bejeweled hand. “Sam, darling, the children are supposed to be bringing in our guests’ bags. I’m afraid they may have gotten distracted by the split oak.”

The front door burst open on her last word and the twins stumbled in tugging the suitcases behind them. The sound of heavy rain pelting the earth filled the entryway until Lilly slammed the door shut. Pervading humidity made the house damp like a mausoleum. The teens shook their heads, like shaggy dogs, spraying water on everything within reach of the flying droplets.

Abigail said nothing to the twins, though her lips pursed in disapproval. Instead, she turned back to Caroline and Don. “Come, I’ll show you to your rooms.”