Sudden Recall Page 21

  Getting to his feet, his hands on her son’s shoulders, Shane turned him in Eden’s direction. “Patrick, I’ve brought a very special lady to meet you. Her name is Eden Hawke.”

  There was no recognition in the shy gaze that examined her. How could there be when he must have forgotten her long ago? Eden wanted to embrace him as Shane had embraced him, but she didn’t dare. That kind of familiarity would have frightened him. Nor could she tell him she was his mother. That, too, would have alarmed him. She blinked away her tears.

  It would take time and patience, a great deal of both, before he was ready to hear the truth. All she could do now was to smile down at him and offer him a very ordinary, “Hello, Patrick. I hope we’ll be friends.”

  “’Lo,” he mumbled.

  She went on smiling, the sight of him tugging at her. Would he, she wondered desperately, ever call her “Mom” again? Or would he forever belong to the woman who had stolen him from her?

  EDEN FOUGHT A BATTLE with herself at the dinner table. She couldn’t keep her eyes off Nathanial, and that wasn’t good. She knew her repeated glances had him a little worried about her. But it was hard not to look when she wanted to familiarize herself with all the changes in him, to catch up with everything she had missed. In the end, it was Shane’s hand squeezing hers under the table that gave her the courage to restrain herself. That and a concern that took her mind off her son.

  The subject that had troubled her ever since the art museum couldn’t be mentioned, though, until Nathanial finished his dinner and went back into the family room to watch television. Now that the adults were alone at the table, she was prepared to ask Estelle and Victor if they knew anything about it. Though she and Shane had had no opportunity to discuss it, the same subject must have been on his mind as well because, much to her surprise, he spoke first.

  “Victor,” he said in an undertone, leaning toward their host, “I imagine the island is too far removed from Savannah for you and Estelle to be interested in the news there. But since Sebastian Jamison helped to fund the restoration of the lighthouse here, I thought maybe the local paper might have carried his obituary.”

  “If it did,” Victor replied in his deep voice, “I don’t remember reading it. Estelle?” His wife shook her head.

  “So you don’t know how he died?” Eden asked them earnestly.

  Victor shook his head. “No, but I know someone who might. Bud Pruitt over on the other side of the island was chairman of the restoration committee and used to meet with Jamison in Savannah. Let me give him a ring.”

  Victor went into the kitchen to use the phone there. He was back in a few minutes. After glancing in the direction of the family room to make certain that Nathanial couldn’t hear them, he settled again at the table and told them what he’d learned.

  “Bud said the old man suffered from arthritis complicated by angina, and toward the end was pretty much of an invalid, confined either to his bed or a wheelchair.”

  “Did he have a fatal heart attack, then?” Eden asked.

  “His heart did fail, but it was the result of a fall down a flight of stairs.”

  Eden and Shane traded swift glances, and she knew he was thinking the same thing. Victor didn’t miss their exchange. What’s more, he was shrewd enough to guess their suspicions.

  “It doesn’t work, people. Bud said Sebastian’s wife is a doctor and that her husband was under her care. She demanded a police investigation and got it. It turns out the old man was alone in the house that night except for Patrick, who was asleep in his room, and Patrick’s nanny, who’d nodded off while sitting in the chair next to his bed. The staff and family were all elsewhere and with solid alibis. No one knows why Sebastian tried to go downstairs on his own or why he didn’t call for the nanny if he needed something, which is what his wife instructed him to do before having to leave him for a few hours, but in the end everyone was satisfied the fall was an accident.”

  “About this nanny,” Eden wondered.

  “No motive there,” Victor said, understanding the possibility she was suggesting. “Apparently, she was as devoted to Sebastian as she was to Patrick. Even blamed herself for falling asleep.”

  The police might be satisfied by this explanation for Sebastian Jamison’s death, but Eden wasn’t. Nor, if his grim expression was any indication, did she think Shane was either. But any further inquiry in that direction would have to wait until they got Nathanial safely back to Charleston. And that, much to her frustration, couldn’t happen before tomorrow when, hopefully, the weather would have improved sufficiently to permit them to leave the island.

  Getting to her feet, she helped Estelle to clear the table and load the dishwasher in the kitchen where she had the opportunity to thank the woman for caring for her son. The couple’s kindness didn’t end there, as she learned when she returned to the dining room.

  “Estelle and I were discussing it earlier,” Victor explained, “and if you want it, we’d like to offer the three of you one of the beach cottages for the night. It would be a chance, Eden, for you to get to know Patrick away from all of the distractions here.”

  The idea of her and her son and Shane playing family, even if it was only for one night, appealed to Eden. On the other hand, they would be on their own in the cottage. She trusted Shane to look out for them, just as Victor would look out for his wife and himself here. But if any of the Jamison family was in some manner responsible for Sebastian’s death and it involved Nathanial…

  Anxious about his welfare, her gaze drifted in the direction of the family room where he was stretched out on the floor, the spaniel beside him. Her concern, and the reason for it, must have been evident to Shane.

  “The weather has locked down the island for the night,” he reminded her. “No one from the mainland can get here now, even if they did have any idea of where we are, and that isn’t likely.”

  That was true, Eden thought. And she and Shane hadn’t been followed. They’d made certain of that. Besides, the DuBois house could be no more safe than the cottage, and since they had to stay somewhere for the night…

  “I think I would like that,” she said, accepting Victor’s offer.

  “I should point out to you,” Victor said, “that the Lincoln cottage, which is the only one made up for guests at this time of the year, has just two bedrooms, so if that’s a problem—”

  Shane cut him off with a confident, “I think we can manage just fine with the sleeping arrangements, don’t you, Eden?”

  Was that an eager gleam in his eyes? Yes, definitely a gleam. It told her he was probably far more interested in a game of man and wife in that cottage than in playing family. Did she have an argument with that? She couldn’t think of any. Not a single one.

  IT HAD STOPPED raining by the time the three of them piled into the Toyota with their things and drove a quarter of a mile down the road to the Lincoln cottage nestled under the pines close to the shore. If there were any palms on Palm Island, and Eden figured there must be some, she had yet to see one.

  The storm clouds had cleared away, leaving a sky spangled with stars, but the wind still blustered off the ocean. She could hear the high surf booming on the beach. The sound of it, together with a phosphorescent glow from the waves, made the cottage seem isolated, almost ghostly.

  There was something else that contributed to that mood. Out on a spit of land, which must have been several hundred yards away, she could just make out in the starlight the bulk of some massive, crumbling structure. The ocean pounded at the feet of its broken walls.

  “Those are the ruins of the old Fort Lafayette,” Shane said. “Used to be a great spot for bringing girls when I was a teenager.”

  I bet, Eden thought with a little smile.

  They left the car parked under the trees and carried their gear into the cottage. The place lost its eerie spell for her once the lights were on and the electric heat was turned up to take off the chill. In fact, it was invitingly snug, and she was glad they were here
. Nathanial was partly responsible for that. He was excited about spending the night here. It was an adventure to him.

  “Like camping out,” he said.

  “That’s right, buddy,” Shane told him. “Only you get a comfy bed instead of the hard ground, and the clock says it’s time you were in that bed.”

  Eden envied him his ease with Nathanial. She felt awkward and helpless with her own son, standing around uselessly while Shane took charge and saw Nathanial settled in his room.

  She was in their own room, changing into her nightie after brushing her teeth and trying not to gaze with anticipation at the queen-size bed they would share tonight, when Shane returned.

  “Is he asleep?”

  “No, but he’s in his pj’s and trying to keep his lids from drooping. Why don’t you go to him and tuck him in for the night.”

  Eden longed to do just that, but she was uncertain. “Do you think he’d let me?”

  “He’s your kid, Eden. It’s time you started playing mother.”

  Shane was right. If she was ever to reestablish a mother-son relationship with Nathanial, she needed to overcome her constraint. Quelling her nervousness, she went along the hall to the tiny bedroom on the other side of the small cottage. She was disappointed to find him already in bed. There would be no ritual of tucking him under the covers, of making sure he had the stuffed elephant he had treasured as an infant. She supposed he had no memory of that elephant.

  “I came to say good night, Patrick.” The name didn’t come easily to her. Would she ever be able to tell him his real name? And would he ever accept it?

  “’Night,” he responded.

  Should she kiss him? She wanted to. No, better not. It might make him uncomfortable. “Would you like one of the lamps left on in here?”

  He shook his head.

  “Well, if you wake up and need anything, just call. We’ll be right here.”

  “All right.”

  He was waiting for her to go. She hated to leave it like this, but she had no reason to linger. Not, anyway, until she started to back away and noticed the books ranged along shelves against one wall. Some of them were books for children.

  “I could read you a story before you go to sleep. That is, if you’d like me to.”

  He considered her offer. “Okay.”

  She selected an anthology of classic tales. “This one looks good.”

  He allowed her to perch on the edge of his bed. She turned to the story of “Dick Whittington and His Cat” and began to read. He was asleep long before she was able to finish the tale. Never mind. They had shared a few private, precious moments. It was a beginning.

  Fearing even now she would wake him if she risked a kiss on his forehead, she turned out the lamp and slipped out of the room. She had closed the door softly behind her, her mind occupied with her satisfaction, when she trod on something under her bare feet.

  Startled, she look down. What in the name of—

  Flowers. Artificial flowers of every hue and variety. She remembered there had been an enormous mixed bouquet stuffed into a basket on the table in the living room. The flowers were no longer in that basket. They were strewn along the floor in a deliberate trail that led to the other bedroom. It was an unmistakable invitation.

  Eden followed the trail back to the bedroom where she discovered Shane waiting for her impatiently. He was seated cross-legged in the middle of the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of snug briefs, a sprig of lily of the valley tucked behind one ear and a wicked grin.

  Her breath stuck in her throat at the sight of him. He was awesome. The sculpted muscles of his arms, chest and long legs glowed in the soft light of the single lamp on the bedside table. What those briefs concealed was something she didn’t even dare think about… Except she found herself doing just that.

  “I left you a message,” he said.

  “Yes, I found it. And understood it, I believe,” she added, noticing that the flowers were scattered in a path all the way to the side of the bed. Closing the door, she gestured in the direction of the sprig behind his ear. “Nice touch.”

  “Yeah, I thought so.” He removed the lily of the valley and sniffed it. “No scent, though. Too bad. I was kind of hoping to rekindle the fragrance you were wearing the night I stumbled in out of the rain. You know, the one that had me thinking of wife and home.”

  “I remember.”

  “Damn seductive, that scent. Makes a man imagine the wildest things. Uh, I don’t suppose—”

  “Sorry, I’m not wearing any of my Lily of the Valley perfume.”

  “Yeah, but they say traces of a fragrance can linger long afterward on the skin.”

  “I’ve heard that.”

  “You just have to get close enough to detect it.”

  “Really?”

  “That’s what they say.”

  “In that case…”

  Eden crossed to the bed, placed one knee on it to support herself, and leaned toward him, offering herself for his sensory examination. Shane tossed the sprig to one side and buried his nose in her throat, inhaling deeply.

  “Anything?”

  He drew back, shaking his head. “I’ll need more exposure than this.”

  Eden accommodated him, drawing the nightie over her head and kneeling now in front of him with both legs on the bed. “Enough?”

  “Better, but I’ll need even more to be sure. A lot more.”

  He left her no choice. Slipping off the bed, she removed her bra and panties and went to him again. This time his arms went around her, hauling her against his heat and hardness. For a long, tantalizing moment both his nose and mouth were occupied with the flesh between her breasts.

  “Lily of the Valley?” she said raspingly.

  “Something much better than that,” he rumbled. “Woman. All woman.”

  She was able to savor an aroma of her own after that. His aroma, clean and masculine. Her nostrils filled with it as his mouth settled over hers in a long, blistering kiss. Her other senses sharpened when she tasted his tongue involved in a searing contact with her own. When she felt his powerful arousal strained against her belly. When she heard the primitive sounds of passion deep in his throat.

  He gave a gruff voice to those groans when his mouth finally lifted from hers. “If memory serves me, sweetheart, we have some unfinished business from last night.”

  He was referring to their aborted lovemaking in the motel. “I think you’re right.”

  He went rigid then as something suddenly occurred to him. “Unless Patrick—”

  “Sound asleep. He let me read to him, so it was either the story that worked or I have a voice like a lullaby.”

  Shane grinned with relief, his hands cupping her breasts. “The body of one, anyway. So, just where did we leave off last night?”

  “Somewhere between ecstasy and frustration.”

  “Good enough. Let’s pick up from here.” His head lowered to her breasts, his mouth closing around one nipple, giving it his full attention, and then turning to tug at the other while she clutched at him in mindless rapture.

  “And here,” he said, his mouth moving on down to her belly and finally settling between her parted thighs where his tongue worked a miracle of enticement.

  She was in a fever of wanting him inside her when at last he shucked his briefs, sheathed himself with a condom and covered her with his eager body, his swollen arousal burying itself in her wet, welcoming softness.

  It was a lush joining, their rhythms alternately slow and rapid, gentle and fierce. And in the end consumed by an urgency that carried them, each in turn, to a blinding release.

  Rolling to one side, Shane gathered her close against him. He kissed her tenderly, his mouth cherishing her lips before he settled his head back on the pillow with a deep sigh of contentment. There was silence then.

  Eden thought he had gone to sleep, but a few moments later he eased away from her and off the bed. She gazed at him in surprise as he dragged on a pair of jeans.r />
  “What are you doing?”

  “Thought I would sit up awhile in Nathanial’s room.”

  He said it carelessly, as if not wanting to worry her, but she was suddenly worried. “You’re planning on keeping watch over him, aren’t you? Why, if you’re so certain none of the Jamisons have any idea where we are, and couldn’t cross to the island tonight even if they did?”

  “It just seems like a good idea.”

  He was right. No matter how safe they were here, they needed to exercise every caution. “All right, but you’re not keeping any all-night vigil on your own. You take the first shift, and I’ll relieve you in a few hours.”

  “Deal. Now get some sleep.” Drawing the cover over her, he leaned down and dropped a kiss on her mouth. Then he was gone, shutting the door behind him.

  Eden lay there, unable to close her eyes, already missing him, thinking about what they had shared in this bed. Their lovemaking had been everything she had wished for, rich and satisfying, fulfilling all her fantasies. Except for one thing. He had expressed no commitment, no words of his love for her. She tried not to be disappointed, tried not to yearn for what he might not be capable of delivering. Hadn’t she known the risk?

  After a moment she reached out and turned off the bedside lamp. She listened in the darkness to the breakers surging on the shore below the cottage. She reminded herself she had her son back. That was all that was ultimately important, all she had asked for. Wasn’t it?

  IT WAS NO LONGER dark in the bedroom when Eden opened her eyes. The moon had risen, casting its glow through the single window. Its light must have awakened her. What time was it? Switching on the lamp, she checked her watch and found it was long past midnight. Time to relieve Shane.

  Crawling out from under the blanket, she recovered her nightie from where it had landed on the floor and pulled it over her head. The cottage had cooled, so she added her robe and slippers against the chill before leaving the room.