“Derek! You’ll frighten him to death! Put him down and introduce yourself properly!” a woman cried in affectionate exasperation.
Jane twisted to face her husband. He was still clinging to her hand, and he was as pale as she had ever seen him. “They’re here,” she said simply.
He took a deep breath. “I know.”
He couldn’t stay in the coach forever. Not that he wanted to. It was just that he was feeling so choked with emotions—ones he hadn’t quite expected—that he was paralyzed. He hadn’t seen his parents in more than ten years. Love and joy were washing over him in incredible proportions, but so was fear. Raw, bitter fear. For even as he was reunited with his family, there was the knowledge of the confrontation he would instigate—immediately. And then he would learn the truth he had avoided so desperately for so long.
He tried to tell himself it no longer mattered. He was an adult, not a child, and he had Jane and his children and Dragmore. So it didn’t matter that he was not Derek’s son. It didn’t matter that Derek’s real children were Rathe and Storm, that he loved them, and not him, Nick. Nick knew Derek cared, of course, but he couldn’t possibly love the child of a man who had raped his wife. The problem was that no matter how hard he told himself he did not care that Derek did not really love him, the truth was he still loved Derek as a father—for the man was his father in his heart.
Slowly he climbed out of the coach.
Derek barely looked a day older than when Nick had last seen him. He was as tall as Nick, and once he’d been as broad or even broader with thick, powerful muscles. Now he’d slimmed down a bit, but he was still an unusually powerful man. With his typical unrestrained, uninhibited exuberance (Derek always did what he felt like when he felt like it, Miranda often scolded), he was staring incredulously at the delicate gloved hand Jane had offered him.
“What’s this?” he roared, laughing, revealing white, even teeth. He turned to grin at his wife who held Chad’s hand, a petite, slender, elegant woman in her early fifties. “My God, Miranda, does she remind you of someone?”
Jane turned to look at Miranda, confused.
Miranda took her hand. “Forgive him, he’s overcome. But it was a compliment—I think he was comparing you to me when I first came to the frontier.”
Jane took the woman’s hand, then was embraced in a light hug. A moment later she was enveloped in a bear hug that could easily squash her—and she was lifted off her feet. When Derek put her down, she was blushing beet red.
Nick almost grinned. Derek liked his wife, and eventually Jane would get used to his enthusiasm. Then his father saw him, and Nick froze.
But Derek didn’t. “Son!”
When his father reached him to embrace him, hard, Nick closed his eyes and fought the childish urge to cry. His father released him. “God, look at you.” Impulsively Derek clasped his shoulder. “Look at you! You were a man when you left, but not like this.”
“Hello, Father.” The word just popped out. Nick felt himself blushing.
Derek threw his arm around him, and tears filled his eyes. “Shit!” He roared. “I’m like an old woman. God, son, you’ve done well for yourself— two beautiful children and a beautiful wife …”
“Derek!” Miranda reproved, but she was weeping and she threw herself at Nick. She clung to him, a tiny woman, and Nick clung back until it was unseemly and he forced them to separate.
“Hi, Mom.” He managed a grin. He hoped his own eyes weren’t tearing.
“‘Hi, Mom’! I haven’t seen you in over ten years and you say ‘hi, Mom?” Her voice was broken, and she wiped tears delicately away with a lace handkerchief. “Oh, Nick! It’s so good to have you home!”
Nick was very quiet, and had been all through the ride to the D and M and through the sumptuous dinner Miranda had waiting for them. Jane knew his parents had noticed—because the two had exchanged clear, concerned glances. Now they all sat at the oak dining-room table after finishing homemade pie and thick, strong coffee. Molly had taken Nicole for a nap, despite her protests (and her grandparents’). Chad was restlessly squirming. Derek had promised to take him riding and show him the ranch. “When are we going, Grandpa?” he asked excitedly.
“Can Grandpa finish his coffee?” Derek returned, grinning.
“Chad,” Nick and Jane reproved simultaneously. Nick picked up his mug, so Jane continued. “Let your grandfather finish his meal and enjoy his son’s company. Wouldn’t you want to be with your papa if you hadn’t seen him in more than ten years?”
Chad bit his lip, then nodded slowly. “Ten years is a long time, isn’t it?”
“Very,” Derek interjected.
“Okay, we can go riding tomorrow,” Chad announced. “But may I go out and play, Papa?”
“Of course,” Nick said, but as Chad leapt up, he eyed him sternly. Obedient to the unspoken command, Chad gave Jane a hug and kiss, then his father. “And what about your grandparents?”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, but then he ran to Derek and Miranda before racing with a whoop out of the room.
“You have a fine son,” Derek said, smiling.
Miranda, sitting beside Nick, touched his arm. “Are you happy, Nick?”
He looked at Jane intently. “Yes.”
