Spellbound Falls Page 6

  Olivia let out a loud yawn, lifting a hand to her mouth to cover her blush. “Dawn cracks early; you need to go to sleep now.”

  Of course the girl didn’t listen to her. “If you’re too shy to ask him, I can. I asked Tristan if he wanted to be Zoey’s boyfriend, and he said yes and now they’re the hottest couple in the entire school.”

  Good Lord, she had to stop this. Olivia pointed a threatening finger. “I so much as hear the words boyfriend or girlfriend tomorrow on our picnic, young lady, and you’ll be cleaning cabins with me from the moment you step off the bus until you go to bed for the next three weeks. Got that?”

  The blankets pulled up to her chin again and her eyes huge—more likely from shock than fear—Sophie mutely nodded.

  Olivia took in a calming breath. “You know we can’t get emotionally involved with our guests,” she said softly. “I realize that’s usually not a problem for you because most everyone is here only a week or two, but Henry and Mr. Oceanus are staying through the summer and then they’re leaving. So just like I can’t have Mr. Oceanus as a boyfriend, you need to make sure you don’t get too attached to Henry. I don’t want your heart to get broken, Sophie.”

  When the girl only nodded again, Olivia smiled warmly. “I love you, baby.”

  “I love you, too, Mom,” she said, dropping back onto her pillow with a miniature version of her mother’s sigh.

  Olivia quietly walked down the hall to the kitchen, her heart aching with remorse for losing her temper. She went over and locked the outside door, then pushed back the curtain and saw that the lights in the upstairs windows of the main lodge were still on in John and Eileen’s private quarters. She rested her forehead against the cool glass, suddenly so close to tears it was scary. Sophie needn’t worry about her getting married again, because the girl was right; she had to be somebody’s girlfriend before she could be a wife. And the chances of that happening in Spellbound Falls were about as promising as someone catching a giant whale in Bottomless Lake.

  She might go a bit weak in the backbone on occasion, but she sure as hell had enough pride not to settle. If she couldn’t have a man who made her palms sweat and her heart race, who didn’t see her as a prize that came with a ready-made family and six hundred acres of prime wilderness lake frontage, or who thought she was perfect just the way she was, then she’d rather remain a lonely widow the rest of her life.

  Because she deserved a man who would move mountains for her.

  Olivia straightened and started to turn but caught sight of Mac’s jacket hanging on the peg beside her door. She really needed to return it, if only to get him out of her head once and for all. But truth be told, she hadn’t even realized how much she missed a man’s touch until Mac had swept her into his arms and placed his jacket over her trembling shoulders while promising the bastard would never hurt her again.

  Oh, but she loved the feel of a man’s strength; her last memory of her father was him holding her in his big strong arms when she was five, crushing her to his chest with his face buried in her hair as he’d promised he would move heaven and earth and any mountains that got in his way to get her back.

  She’d waited three years for him to come back and get her, and finally forgiven him four foster homes later on her eighteenth birthday. Olivia pulled the jacket off the peg and pressed the soft leather to her face, remembering how she’d headed off in search of the security she’d lost at age four when her mother had died.

  Only she’d found Keith instead. Or rather, Keith Baldwin had found her waiting tables in Orono his last year of college. The tall, handsome, determined man had literally swept Olivia off her feet, married her the week after he graduated, and settled her here at Inglenook one month before running off to join the military.

  It had taken him two years of furloughs home to get her pregnant, and another four years to get killed protecting fallen comrades being airlifted to safety. At least that was what his commanding officer had said as Olivia had watched Sophie clutch the folded flag at Keith’s funeral—which the girl now kept in her bedroom next to a picture of her war-hero daddy.

  Olivia snapped off the porch light, undecided whom she was the angriest at: herself for hating a dead man, or Keith for dying before he had found the backbone to tell his parents they were getting a divorce. Her heart aching again for not telling them herself, Olivia headed to her bedroom—only to realize she was still clutching Mac’s jacket.

  Well, why the hell not? It wasn’t as if she intended to attack its owner or anything; that’s why it was called a fantasy. Because really, she wasn’t looking for another tall, dark, handsome stranger to swoop in and rescue her, considering how that had turned out the last time. No, she was holding out for a man she could trust to honestly and truly love her, forever and ever.

  A man who preferred her bed instead of some other woman’s.

  But until that miracle happened, there wasn’t any reason she couldn’t dream Mr. Right was out there somewhere. And while waiting for their paths to cross, what was wrong with pretending she was sleeping wrapped up in a pair of big strong arms? Considering she hadn’t had sex in more than six years, shouldn’t she think about having two or three passionate affairs before she turned into a dried-up old woman? It wasn’t like she was looking for the perfect man or anything; she’d always thought perfection was overrated.

  Olivia spread the jacket on her bed, left her clothes on the floor where she’d shed them, and carefully burrowed under the quilt with a soft hum of pleasure. Mr. Right didn’t even have to be handsome, she decided, pulling the jacket-covered quilt up to her chin to breathe in the masculine scent. In fact, it might actually be better if he was flat-out ugly, having learned the hard way that a handsome face could just as easily hide a black heart.

  He did have to have a sense of humor, though. And he needed to like children—especially little girls—and she’d really like it if he was really strong, because she really loved feeling all that carefully controlled strength moving over her, and beneath her, and deeply inside her.

  Olivia finally fell asleep, her palms slightly sweaty and her heart beating a little bit faster, feeling safe and secure wrapped in the warmth of a fantasy.

  Chapter Five

  Standing on the porch staring out at the moonlight reflecting off the ice on Bottomless Lake, Mac listened to Henry sitting inside reading aloud from the book of baby names he’d gotten in town this afternoon. The boy had slowly been making his way through the alphabet and was up to the letter D; occasionally stopping to write some of the names down after repeating them with different inflections, sometimes adding Oceanus to see how they sounded together.

  Sweet Prometheus, but he’d caught hell from all his friends’ wives back in Midnight Bay simply for mentioning that he’d like to change Henry’s first name along with his last. But his worst sin, apparently, had been to mention it in front of the boy, who had obviously taken it to heart.

  But what had Delia been thinking when she’d given his son such an uninspiring, decidedly English name as Henry? From the day he’d met her, Mac had been totally honest about who he was—and despite not telling him she was pregnant, Delia had known she was giving birth to the grandchild of Titus Oceanus.

  Mac snorted softly. Which was exactly why she’d kept her pregnancy a secret. It was also likely why she’d chosen such an unassuming name, hoping it would help keep the boy’s parentage—and his heritage—free of public speculation.

  Except her brothers had known who had fathered their bastard nephew. And after Delia’s death five months ago, upon learning that her closest servants were plotting to bring their young charge to the child’s father, the three Penhope men had mounted a campaign to kill Mac in order to keep control of the boy.

  Thank the gods one servant had managed to at least reach Titus. And for that reason alone Mac was still alive, two of Delia’s brothers were dead and one had staggered home carrying his stones in his pocket.

  The cabin door opened. “What do y
ou think of Dorian?” Henry asked as he stepped onto the porch. “It means ‘from the sea,’ so it’s appropriate. And Dorian Oceanus has a noble ring to it, don’t you think, Father?”

  Mac walked over and picked him up, then sat down in one of the wooden porch chairs, settling Henry on his lap. “Let’s start with my name, shall we? I’m thinking of changing it from Father to Dad. How does that sound to you?”

  Henry’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. “You want me to call you Dad?” Down went those brows into a frown. “Just while we’re here at Inglenook, and then I should return to calling you Father when we leave?”

  “Well, since I still intend to be your dad after we leave here, I thought maybe you could continue using the term.”

  “But you call Grandfather Father, and when you came to his ship and stole me from him, I also heard you call him sir.”

  Mac smiled to cover his wince. “That’s because my father scares the hel—the daylights out of me. And I rather hoped that by your calling me Dad, I would know that you aren’t afraid of me.”

  “I’m not afraid of anything.” The boy suddenly looked away. “Except that something bad might happen to you,” he whispered. “Like your getting sick and dying just like Mama did.”

  Mac cupped his son’s chin to face him. “Nothing bad is going to happen to me, Henry. I’m going to live for a long, long, long time.” He tapped the boy’s cheek with his finger. “And so are you. And for as long as I have breath in my body, even after you’re grown and leave home, I will be here for you.”

  “Even if I do something really bad?”

  “There’s nothing you could ever do that would change the way I feel about you, Henry. Nothing.”

  Mac let go of his chin when Henry turned away again. “I disobeyed you, Fa—Dad,” he said, staring out at the lake. “I told Sophie that bad man hit her mama yesterday.” He looked at Mac, the moonlight revealing his apprehension. “I know you told me not to say anything because you didn’t want Sophie to worry, but she suspected her mother hadn’t merely fallen down. And she was imagining all sorts of bad things had happened, because… I think because she’s afraid her mama could die and leave her just like her father did.”

  Mac cradled his son back against him with a heavy sigh. “Death isn’t some big bad terrible thing, Henry, even though it feels like it is to those of us still living. But fathers and mothers,” he said, giving him a squeeze, “don’t ever leave their children.” He placed his hand over Henry’s heart. “Your mama’s still right here inside you, Henry. And anytime you want to talk to her, just talk; silently or out loud, it doesn’t matter. You have my word, son, your mama hears everything you say, and she knows everything you feel. And if you ask her something she will answer you, only instead of hearing with your ears now you must learn to listen with your heart.”

  Henry reared up, incredulous. “That’s what Sophie told me! I asked her how she got over missing her dad, and she said she didn’t miss him so much once she started talking to him every night when she went to bed. And she said sometimes if she listens real hard, she can almost hear him talking back to her.”

  Oh yeah, coming to Inglenook had definitely been one of his better decisions. “It appears you have a very wise new friend.” He turned the boy facing out again and wrapped him in a warm embrace. “I’m sorry Sophie’s father died, but I’m glad you can talk to her about what it’s like to miss someone you love.”

  “Did you love Mama?”

  “I cared very deeply for Delia.”

  “Then how come you left her before I was born?”

  “Because she asked me to.”

  Henry craned his head to frown up at him. “But why? Didn’t Mama care as deeply for you?”

  Mac nudged him back around. “I believe she did, but I also believe she loved you more,” he said, tightening his arms for emphasis. “I think that when your mama realized she was carrying you, the notion of having my child frightened her, so she asked me to leave before I knew you existed.”

  “But what’s wrong with your being my dad?”

  “I believe it was your grandfather Delia feared most, Henry. Titus Oceanus is a very powerful man, and his reputation is…” Sweet Prometheus, how much should he reveal to the child? “Well, let’s just say that everyone is afraid of my father.”

  Henry patted Mac’s arm. “You’re not afraid of him. When Mr. Trace blew that hole in Grandfather’s ship, you stole me right out from under his nose. Why, you’re not afraid of anyone.”

  No, only a pint-sized, six-year-old mirror image of himself.

  “You know what, Henry? Instead of calling him Grandfather, I think you should start calling him Grampy. So the next time you give Trace a letter to take out to sea and toss overboard, go ahead and begin it with ‘Dear Grammy and Grampy.’”

  “And can you take a picture of me and Sophie so I can send it to them? I want them to see what a wonderful new friend I have.”

  Mac smiled. What he wouldn’t give to be there when his old man opened Henry’s letter calling him Grampy. “I’m sure they’d both like that very much.”

  “And can I also write to Aunt Carolina and invite her to come visit us?” Henry asked, craning around to look at him again.

  Mac disguised his shudder by shrugging. He supposed he couldn’t postpone the inevitable any longer, as Henry had been asking to meet Carolina ever since she’d sent him the giant stuffed whale and book of mythology. But knowing his sister, Mac had sneaked the whale out of Henry’s arms when the boy had been sleeping, carefully taken it apart at the seam, and found Carolina’s little… surprise.

  Only upon realizing his brat of a sister—obviously in love with her new nephew sight unseen—was sincerely trying to help him, Mac had taken her inspired gift out of the whale, replaced it with something of equal weight so Henry wouldn’t notice, and painstakingly restitched the seam and tucked the animal back into his son’s arms.

  “Yes, I believe it is time you met your aunt. And if we give Carolina an invitation that includes actual dates, at least we’ll know when she’s coming rather than just having her show up without warning.”

  Henry relaxed back against him again. “Next week, then?”

  “How about next month instead? That way we’ll have time to grow accustomed to our temporary home first.”

  “But all the campers will be here then.”

  Mac smiled over Henry’s head. “Exactly, as I intend to sign Caro up for one or two of the sessions.” He patted Henry’s leg. “She’s going to love the idea, because I happen to know she’s quite determined to be your favorite aunt.”

  Henry frowned up to him again. “But she’s my only aunt.”

  Mac lifted the boy off his lap and set him down facing the door. “And if you’re a wise young man, you won’t be too quick to point that out to her,” he said with a chuckle, giving him a nudge to get him moving. “Not if you want her to keep sending you gifts. Now go brush your teeth and strip off for bed, and I’ll be along to tuck you in.”

  Henry stopped at the door. “Are you sure Mama doesn’t mind that I don’t wear pajamas?” he asked, the moonlight revealing his suspicion.

  “She never used to mind when I didn’t wear any,” Mac drawled. He stood up. “But if you’re worried, tonight just before you go to sleep maybe you should ask her.”

  “But what if she doesn’t answer me?”

  “She will, son, I promise. Only remember you’ll hear her answer with your heart instead of your ears. And in the morning, if your mama told you she prefers you wear pajamas, tomorrow we’ll go into town and buy you some.”

  Henry’s shoulders slumped. “Can we go to town even if she says it’s okay if I sleep naked? That way I’ll have something to do while Sophie’s gone on her picnic.” He took a deep breath. “I’ve decided picnics must be something only mamas do with their children. And dads do… they do something else with them.”

  “You mean like teach their sons how to handle a sword?” Mac asked quietly.<
br />
  Henry’s eyes widened. “A sword? Truly?” He stepped closer. “Will you teach me how to fight with your sword?”

  Mac folded his arms over his chest, biting back a laugh. “I think we should start with one you can actually lift.” He canted his head. “Perhaps you would enjoy wielding the small sword my father gave me when I was your age.”

  The one Carolina had thoughtfully hidden inside the giant stuffed whale.

  Henry’s eyes widened even more. “Grandfather gave you a toy sword when you were my age? And you’re going to let me use it? Oh, Father, I promise to be very careful not to break it, as you must hold it dear to your heart. Can we start my lessons tomorrow while Sophie’s gone on her picnic?”

  Mac could feel the excitement humming through his son clear across the porch. “I’m not just letting you use the sword your Grampy gave me; I’m giving it to you to hold dear in your heart as a gift from your dad. One that I hope you will someday have the good fortune to pass down to your own son.” He walked over and opened the door of the cabin. “And you needn’t worry about it breaking; it’s a true and lethal weapon, Henry, except that it’s sized for a smaller hand. And for that reason alone you must always treat it with respect.” He turned him around and gently shoved him inside. “Now go get ready for bed.”