Caitlin joined him. “This is such a magical spot on a lovely estate. You’re lucky to have inherited it.”
“Appearances can be deceiving,” Holt replied, his expression grim as he looked around. “My mother loved this spot. She told me after she got pregnant with me and her aunt kicked her out, she thought she’d never be able to set foot here again.”
“I’m sorry she was treated so unfairly.” Caitlin couldn’t imagine treating someone that way.
“There’s more. When I was very young, Mother drove me past here, pointing out where she’d come from and that we were not welcome. I’d always thought the house was haunted…but not this…” He indicated the gazebo. “It was pretty, and she loved it. I begged her to sneak over here when we knew my great-aunt was out of town, so I could find out. I thought it would be a grand adventure. Mother finally brought me when I was about nine.”
“That was kind of ye to give her a reason to return.”
He shook his head. “You know what they say about good intentions. It was a sunny summer day with a cooling breeze off the water, puffy clouds scudding across the sky, and every plant on the estate in full flower.”
“Magical.”
“Then, the wicked witch showed up.”
“Ach, nay.” Suddenly, the twinkly lights held no warmth.
“Returned early from wherever she’d ridden her broom,” Holt continued. “Mother heard her voice and tried to hustle us away before her aunt found out we were there, but she spotted us.”
He took a breath as if gathering strength to keep the story going. Caitlin was tempted to stop him, but she suspected this was a tale he’d carried within himself for years. Curiosity got the best of her, and she stayed silent, waiting for him to add the rest of what he needed to say.
“The scene that followed cemented my…distaste…for that woman and this place.” Holt paused and looked around, his gaze tracking to the peak of the roof. “I’ll never forget my mother’s tears when her aunt appeared. She reinforced my childish notion that only evil spirits could make someone treat my mother so badly.”
He needed a minute. She could see it in the sudden glint in his eyes, as if looking up would stop any tears that threatened. She’d been right that this was something he’d never shared, never exposed to the light of day, and to do it here, in the place where it happened, had to be excruciating. Brave. Perhaps even heartrending. The Holt she’d first met would never have exposed such vulnerability. She felt honored that he shared this much with her. “Why did your mother make you aware of her background? Had you asked?”
“Probably.” Holt leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his gaze on his feet. “I was a precocious child. My intellect and curiosity constantly got me in trouble. That day, it backfired big time.” Then he straightened. “The way my great-aunt reacted to our presence, I’m surprised she didn’t have this structure burned down.”
Caitlin stood. “I’m so sorry. We should go. I never should have insisted we come out here.”
Holt grasped her gloved hand, making her wish she could feel the warmth of his skin. “You had no way of knowing about my past. Sit down and enjoy the present,” he said, tugging. “It all happened a long time ago.”
Caitlin sat. It was that or be pulled off her feet onto his lap. “But it still hurts. I hear it in your voice.” And she regretted being the reason for it.
“I’m a big boy now. I can handle it.” But his gaze was still turned inward.
Caitlin pulled her hand free and stood. “Ye shouldn’t have to.” When he didn’t budge, she added, “Besides, I’m getting cold. Let’s go in.”
Holt leaned against the column at his back, then blew out a breath, met her gaze, and stood. “You’re right, the wind is picking up. Let’s go in.”
Caitlin headed for the mansion. The warm yellow light spilling from its windows beckoned her. But she now had a better idea why Holt saw this place very differently than she did. Appearancescouldbe deceiving.
CHAPTER8
Holt couldn’t believe he’d shared that story. It had to be the place, if not the time or season, and the woman beside him. Caitlin’s sympathy and understanding had loosened the knots holding back his memories— his feelings— and they’d spilled out. He regretted spoiling her enjoyment of the gazebo, but perhaps it was just as well. Maybe now she’d stop trying to convince him of the appeal the estate. He didn’t understand why she seemed so determined that he keep it. Live in it, for God’s sake, as if he’d ever do that. Staying here for a few weeks was bad enough, though his temporary residence kept him out of county court. Still, he couldn’t wait to get back to California. The only downside to that plan walked quietly at his side.
He helped her up the stairs onto the front portico then held the front door open. Her scent teased him, wafting past him on the warm air spilling out of the house and stirring his blood. She touched his glove as she brushed by, and he remembered that all too soon, like her brief touch, she’d be gone. She was here to do a job, he told himself as he helped her remove her coat, then stripped out of his. Farrell appeared in time to take charge of them, along with their hats, gloves, and scarves. He announced that hot cocoa awaited their pleasure in the kitchen. Holt followed Caitlin down the richly paneled hallway where the scent of chocolate and something else grew stronger with each step. He reminded himself as he went that the estate was a job site, nothing more, its contents merely items to be assessed, cataloged, and disposed of. As soon as she finished, and as soon as he dealt with the lawyers, the county tax office, and a wealth of other details, he’d sell the place and never set foot in it again.
Then she would go back to Scotland, and he’d likely never see her again, despite his teasing threat to show up at her door. He’d had this thought before. The kick to his gut got stronger each time. He wanted to grab her shoulders and stop her, lean down and whisper in her ear that he didn’t want to lose her, but he didn’t know what to do about it. Then turn her to face him and kiss her. He didn’t. Nor could he say anything like that. Neither of them were ready to deal with what it might mean, or how it would change the fragile friendship they now shared, and that surprised the hell out of him. The friendship that Caitlin had coaxed him into, truth be told, by doing her best to help him. And by just being herself. He never thought such a thing would be possible ever again. Did he really want to risk losing it? Losing her even before their lives forced them apart? He knew the answer, even if he didn’t want to admit it to himself— or to her.
Holt squinted as they entered the brightly lit kitchen.
Caitlin took a deep breath and sighed. “Ah, chocolate,” she said with a smile for Mrs. Smith. “Ye’re an angel to think of this,” she added as Mrs. Smith handed her a steaming mug.
“I saw the two of you outside at sunset and knew you’d be chilled by the time you came back in.”
“You were right,” Holt assured her as he took charge of his own steaming mug, then took a cautious sip. Hot, creamy, almost smoky, the cocoa satisfied a need for comfort he hadn’t known he could feel so deeply. Today was a day for revelations, he mused, and most of them hurt. But not all.
“This is amazing,” Caitlin exclaimed after a few sips. “You must tell me your secret. What’s in it?”
