Janice Maynard - His Heir, Her Secret

She wanted desperately to have someone else to talk to about her pregnancy. By her deliberate choices, she had no friends in Candlewick close enough to be considered confidantes. Five years ago she had been too wounded and wary to cultivate deep relationships with other women her age. Once she was back on her feet emotionally, she had already gained a reputation as a loner.

Glancing in the mirror, she noted her flushed cheeks and wild-eyed expression. If she didn’t get ahold of her pinballing, hormone-driven mental state, both Brody and Duncan, and Miss Izzy were going to know something was wrong.

Twenty minutes later she parked in front of Isobel’s house, noting with interest, even in the fading light, the way the grounds had been spruced up already. Duncan met her at the door and welcomed her. Was that a deliberate snub on Brody’s part? A signal that he’d been very serious about not picking up where they left off?

Perhaps she was being too sensitive. As it turned out, Brody and his grandmother were in the midst of a fiercely competitive game of chess. Duncan and Cate found them in the formal living room, seated on either side of a red-and black-lacquered gaming table.

Geoffrey and Isobel had traveled the world during the course of their marriage. Their home was filled with priceless artwork of all kinds.

Brody looked up when Cate entered the room. He lost his focus momentarily, and Isobel smirked. “Checkmate,” she crowed.

“Nice job, Granny,” he said absently. He stood and took Cate’s hand, lifting it to his lips. “You look stunning, Cate. In fact, if a Scotsman can be forgiven for hyperbole, you glow.”

“Thank you,” she said, her throat dry. She stepped away and broke his light hold. She couldn’t bear to be so close to him with her emotions in turmoil.

The two Stewart brothers were clad in hand-tailored suits and crisp white dress shirts. Duncan’s tie was blue. Brody’s red. Either man could have graced the cover of GQ , but it was Brody whose intense stare made Cate’s knees quiver. In more formal clothing, he carried an air of command that was the tiniest bit intimidating.

The other three seemed to be waiting on something. Cate lifted a shoulder. “So what’s the occasion? Another birthday? Miss Izzy was very mysterious when she called earlier.”

Duncan grinned. If Cate’s heart hadn’t been otherwise inclined, the younger Stewart brother might have won her over. “We have a proposition for you.”

Cate shot Brody a startled glance. “Kinky,” she muttered, low enough that Miss Izzy couldn’t hear. The old woman’s wits were razor-sharp, but her hearing was going.

Brody glared at her. “Behave, Cate. This is serious.”

How dare he chastise her ? “I’m terribly sorry, Mr. Stewart. Please. I’m all ears. What is this mysterious proposition?”

Isobel elbowed her way between her two strapping grandsons and linked her arm with Cate’s. “We’ll talk about it together over dinner, my dear. Our caterer is amazing, but he’s somewhat temperamental. We don’t want to keep him waiting.”

Forty-five minutes later, with both the soup and salad courses behind them, Cate still hadn’t heard anything of substance that warranted this fancy occasion. The food she had eaten rested heavy in her stomach, though it was undoubtedly haute cuisine.

Nerves made her jumpy and tense.

Unfortunately, the Stewart family decided it was a good time to talk about the ubiquitous Scottish dish haggis. Isobel shook her head. “I ate it as a lass, but I’d not be so eager to try it now.”

Duncan’s grin was mischievous. “What about you, Cate? Would you be game to try our native delicacy?”

Please, God, let them be joking. Surely the American caterer wasn’t going that route. She gulped inwardly. “I’ve heard of it, of course. But to be honest, I’m not entirely sure what it is.”

Brody stared at her. “I don’t think Cate would be a fan.”

“How would you know what I like?” she snapped.

He lifted one supercilious eyebrow. “A sheep’s heart, lungs and liver? Chopped up and mixed with onion and oatmeal and all manner of other ingredients...then boiled in the sheep’s stomach? Really, Cate? We may not know each other all that well, but you surprise me.”

Bile rose in her throat. Her belly heaved in distress. “Oh. Well, no. I suppose not. Sounds revolting.”

Duncan took pity on her and changed the subject. The shift gave her a few minutes to breathe and get herself under control. Brody, damn his sorry black-hearted hide, smirked as if he had bested her somehow. Not a chance. Not a damned chance in the world.

While they waited on the main course, Isobel finally grimaced. “Well, lass, here it is. The boys want me to sell out and go back to Scotland. I’ve let them know unequivocally that I’m not going to do that.”

“Oh?” Cate felt as if she were treading a minefield. Neither Duncan nor Brody seemed in any way lighthearted or even at ease about this conversation. Was this some kind of trap for Cate? Did Miss Izzy need Cate to cast a deciding vote?

Isobel nodded, although Cate hadn’t really said anything. “I offered a compromise. One the boys believe has merit.”

“And that is?”

Izzy smiled gently. “I’d like you to consider moving in here with me as my paid companion. I wouldn’t take you away from the bookstore, of course. Your wonderful shop is part of the charm of Candlewick. But my grandsons would feel better knowing that someone was officially looking after me.”

“I already do that anyway.” Cate frowned. “I care about you, Miss Izzy. And I’m happy to consider moving up here on the mountain with you, but I won’t take any money. That’s unacceptable.”

Brody, the man whose flashing smile was the first thing she had noticed about him months ago, seemed to do nothing but frown at her now. His black scowl pinned her to her chair. “Try not to be difficult, Cate. Granny isn’t a charity case. She can afford to pay for in-home help.”

Cate was generally even-tempered, but Brody’s condescending attitude nicked her on the raw. “Isobel is my friend ,” she said. “It seems to me this is an issue she and I can negotiate on our own. Or perhaps you and Duncan think I’ll make the house too crowded.”

“Oh, no,” Izzy said. “The boys are leaving.”

“Leaving?” Cate’s tongue felt thick in her mouth. Her stomach clenched. “When?”

Duncan picked up the conversational ball, since his brother was sitting silent and stone-faced with his arms crossed over his chest. “Our tickets are open-ended, but probably in a couple of days. Granny has made up her mind. Since we won’t be dealing with real estate issues, we’ll head on home and probably make another visit later...in the summer, no doubt.”

Cate’s skin was clammy and cold, though she felt feverish and overheated from the inside out. Brody was leaving. Dear Lord. What was she going to do? She had to tell him. Or did she?

Perspiration dotted her upper lip. Black spots danced in front of her eyes. “Excuse me,” she said. “I’ll be back in a moment.” She stood up, deathly ill, desperate to make it to the restroom before she broke down in tears.

Humiliation and rage and sheer distress tore her in a dozen directions. Is this what hyperventilation felt like? Nausea rolled through her belly. Not once in her shocking pregnancy had she experienced more than mild discomfort. Now, at the worst possible moment, puking her guts out was a very real possibility.

As she lurched to her feet, her chair wobbled and almost overturned. She grabbed for something, anything. With one hand she gripped the wooden edge of the seat back. With the other, she reached blindly for the table.