Caitlin didn’t want to, but she forgave Holt. He looked so pensive sitting at the other desk, staring at the screen but doing nothing, that she couldn’t help it. She’d caught him looking at her and had no choice but to give him a polite smile, then go back to her work while the storm still raged outside.
Thinking back over their interactions since he’d arrived, she could see how their attachment had grown. She wondered if she was being irrational to let herself go warm and breathless at the sound of his voice? Or with a glance from his moody gray eyes? He was way out of her league, rich and handsome, and sadly, tortured by his family history. If he genuinely was interested in her, how would she fit into his lifestyle? His life? She didn’t know. But truth be told, she would like to try. He needed someone. Not that the someone had to be her, but he needed a family of his own. He’d been without anyone since his mother’s death.
She wrinkled her nose, knowing such imaginings were futile. She’d be leaving as soon as the storm broke. The rough catalog was nearly done. A few more hours to finish it, and a few more after that to make sure she polished it to its preliminary shine, and she’d have no reason to stay. She could do the rest of her research at home and finish the catalog there, then email it to Holt so he could have it printed here.
She would have no reason to stay— except the mystery of Holt’s parentage. She really wanted to know if, as she suspected, he and Doc Coates were father and son. But Holt had been so angry at her suggestion that she dared not bring a paternity test up again. She’d proposed looking at the yearbooks since she didn’t dare recommend he go directly to Doc Coates. Maybe he’d start to open up to the idea if he saw his mother’s and Doc’s pictures on the same page in their old school album. If there were a way to salvage anything out of the pain she’d caused him, that would be a place to start.
Holt’s sigh brought her attention back to him.
“We need to talk,” he said.
Caitlin’s stomach clenched. He meant about the arrangements for her departure, no doubt. “Aye?”
“I’ve thought it over. You’re right. I…there’s no harm in doing the paternity test. DNA. Whatever. If he’s my father, both of us— all of us— should know it.”
Did he mean it? Caitlin’s heart warmed to hear he wanted to include her in finding out. She was tempted to jump up and hug him for coming to his senses but restrained her impulse. “You pick the lab, so you’re comfortable with the result. Or labs. Send samples to several… “
“No. One will do. More than that might attract attention I don’t want.”
“Oh, of course.” She could see the headline now:Who’s Your Daddy? Billionaire Ridley Tests DNA. He’d be mortified. Though it was likely many people knew he’d been raised by a single mother, he wouldn’t want his family history dragged into the spotlight. Or worse, have people think he was challenging some woman’s paternity claim for her child.
“And I’ll fly the cabinet to Scotland when the storm breaks. Just tell me where to send it.”
He stood and moved toward her, the look in his eyes capturing her, holding her in place, breath bottled up in her chest until he said, “But I want you to stay.”
Caitlin was on her feet before she realized she’d moved. Holt met her in the middle of the office. He didn’t embrace her. She didn’t expect him to. Instead, he reached out and brushed her hair behind her ear. “The catalog is nearly done,” she felt honor-bound to tell him. “I could go with the cabinet— if you still want to get rid of me.”
“Don’t make this hard on me, Caitlin. I know you’re only trying to make my life better. I can’t help thinking you’re being overly superstitious, but we’ll send the cabinet to Scotland, to a museum, or to hell. I don’t care. We’ll do what you think best. As long as you stay.”
“I planned to be home for Hogmanay.” Why was she arguing with him?
The crease between Holt’s brows deepened. “If that’s what you really want— it’s your decision. But I won’t send you away. As soon as the weather clears, the cabinet can go to its new— or old— home without you.”
She wanted to stay, too. “Send it. I’ll think about the rest.”
“That should be time enough to answer some important questions— and to change your mind about ever leaving me.”
She didn’t know how she stayed on her feet. Her lungs couldn’t draw air, and her heart pounded against her ribs hard enough to break them. Holt really did want her. He would never make a declaration like that if he was unsure. She knew he was watching her, waiting for a reaction, a few words to reassure him, or tell him she didn’t want a future with him. But try as she might, she couldn’t get any words past the lump in her throat. She swallowed, trying to clear it.
“I’ll let you think about it,” Holt finally said, but the uncertainty in his eyes wounded her.
“I…I dinna need to,” she finally voiced. “I dinna want to leave ye. Ye surprised me.”
His shoulders dropped and his relief made her want to sag into his arms, but she stood her ground, waiting for him to make the first move.
“I’m falling inlove with ye, Caitlin. I know it's sudden, butin my life, I’ve never felt anything like what I feel for you. I don’t even care if you don’t feel the same—yet. But I hope you will. I know you care.”
“I do, Holt. More than ye ken.”
He reached for her then. “I can hear it in your voice. Your accent gets strong when you get emotional. That’s enough for me. For now.”
* * *
The next day, after the storm broke, Holt took Caitlin to the village. Memories came flooding back the moment he stepped into the village library he’d driven by a few days ago and opted not to enter. The smells were the same. Books. Musty, dusty books by the thousands. The metal carts his mother used to push around while she re-shelved books were still there. Only she was missing. He took a breath, willing away the melancholy that washed through him. She was gone. This wasn’t their place any longer. It was just a library, valuable in its own right, but no longer hers. Or his.
At the desk, Caitlin asked the librarian about yearbooks.
Something seemed wrong until he realized the scent of old Mrs. Dunmore’s flowery perfume was missing. As a child, every time he approached this desk, the heavy sweetness surrounding the librarian made him sneeze. And yet today, he missed it.
