Love at Any Cost (31 page)

“I'm leaving,” Cassie whispered, attempting to pass.

Patricia's hand cinched her arm like a vice, fingers dug into Jamie's coat like her claws were dug into the man. “Why? Afraid of the truth?”

Cassie paused, keeping her temper at bay. “No, not as much as you, apparently.”

“That's where you're wrong, Miss McClare,” she said with a sympathetic smile. “You see, I know the truth, but I love Jamie anyway. I'm not sure you could say the same.”

Goose bumps skimmed Cassie's body despite the warmth of Jamie's coat.

“Yes, I know Jamie considered courting you,” Patricia said, “but I also know why he isn't.”

The air clotted in Cassie's lungs, as thick as the pity in Patricia's tone. “It's an issue of sharing the same faith, Miss Hamilton, but I fail to see what business that is of yours.”

“The same faith, yes,” she said smoothly, as if their conversation were no more than exchanging niceties over tea, “and the fact you don't have the most important thing Jamie MacKenna needs and the one thing he wants more than love.”

Cassie clenched her fists at her sides, afraid she'd be tempted to smack the smirk off the woman's face. “And what's that, Miss Hamilton, your favors?”

“No, Miss McClare,” she said quietly, her tone actually humble. “My money.”

Ice slithered through Cassie's veins, freezing the words to her tongue.

“Oh, I was worried you had him,” she continued, fidgeting with the cashmere shawl she wore over her lavender dress, “until I discovered your family is broke. When Jamie realized that, I'm afraid there was no decision to be made.”

Cassie's lips parted to speak, but the words slowed to a crawl, escaping as a hoarse crack. “I don't believe you.”

“No? And when exactly did his affections cool?” she asked, one perfectly manicured brow angled high. “I'll wager it was after Napa, when I told him you were as poor as he.”

Cassie's eyes weighted closed while the breath whooshed from her lungs. The deck beneath her feet began to spin, and she grasped for the stone wall, legs buckling.
God, please—no . . .

“You see, Miss McClare,” she whispered, voice softening with
empathy that hadn't been there before. “I
knew
Jamie McKenna was courting me for my money, but I'll wager you didn't.”

No, I didn't . . .
Cassie turned away as hot tears sprang to her eyes, Jamie's deception battering her heart as thoroughly as the waves battered the rocks below. Fists clenched on the wall, she squeezed her eyes shut as if to silence the drum of her pulse in her ears, the sound of shallow heaves from her throat . . . the echo of lies bludgeoning her mind.
“And that's the only reason?”
she'd asked.
“Yes, that's the only reason,”
he'd answered, and the awful weight of that untruth doubled her over, effectively wrenching a sob from her throat.

“Jamie is nothing if not ambitious . . .”
Alli's words returned to haunt with brutal clarity, and suddenly Cassie understood Jamie's drive to win her over despite her unwillingness to play at his game. She was a McClare, after all, one of the wealthiest political families in California and he'd obviously pegged her from the start as a woman vulnerable to his charm. Nausea curdled her stomach at the fool she'd been, not once, but twice. Mark had broken her heart, yes, but Jamie had broken her trust and her spirit, wounding her soul so completely, she was loathe to ever see him again. She pressed a shaky hand to her mouth and in one heart-wrenching heave, slumped over the wall, head in her hands as sobs wracked her body.

Cassie flinched at someone's touch. “I . . . never meant to hurt you like this, Cassie, truly,” Patricia said, “but I thought you needed to know.” Her voice suddenly wavered, fear threading her tone to reveal vulnerability for the very first time. “You see, I love him, and before you arrived . . . well, he cared about me too, as well as my money.” Patricia gave her an awkward pat before removing her hand. “Do you . . . do you understand?”

Cassie remained silent, her head hanging limp and body
depleted. Yes, she understood. Patricia and Jamie were a matched pair—selfish and manipulative to the core.

“Well, I . . . I need to get back.” Patricia paused. “Are you . . . coming?”

She didn't answer until she heard the rustle of Patricia's dress when she turned away. “Wait.” Cassie spun around, flinging Jamie's coat off her shoulders. She balled it up and threw it at Patricia, the shock on the woman's face blurring from the tears in Cassie's eyes. “Here, take his coat and take him too—you deserve each other.”

Patricia smoothed out the jacket and carefully draped it over her arm, her face a mask except for the faintest shadow of regret in her eyes. “I'm sorry it had to come to this, Cassie, and I hope someday you'll find it in your heart to forgive us.” With a stiff smile, she gave a short nod and made her way to the door, leaving Cassie to agonize alone.

Over a man she loved who betrayed her, a friend she trusted who deceived her, and a future deprived of them both. Tears slipped from her eyes and she pushed them away with a hard swipe, her anger surging like the waves on the shore. Forgive them? Maybe. But it would take time. And distance. She bowed her head as grief fisted her heart.

Oh, yes . . . miles and miles of distance.

 25 

C
losing her book, Caitlyn glanced at the clock on her nightstand and sighed, her concern for Cassie foremost on her mind.

“Cassie isn't feeling well,” Alli had informed her at the Cliff House, insisting she and their escorts would see her home. And, indeed, her niece had appeared as pale as her champagne-colored dress when she'd kissed her goodbye. But it had been the hollow look of grief in her eyes that set Caitlyn so on edge, she'd asked Logan to take her home early. When she'd peeked in Cassie's room, the poor thing had been sound asleep and her forehead cool, and yet Caitlyn couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that prevailed. She could sense it—something was wrong. Reaching for her robe, she slipped from her bed and put it on, tying the sash with a firm tug. The grandfather clock in the parlour chimed the midnight hour as she hurried down the hall, its deep bongs eerily foreboding while they echoed through the house like a portent of gloom. Reluctant to enter without knocking, she put her ear to Cassie's door, ready to give a gentle tap. Her body stilled at the sound of muffled weeping.
Oh, Cassie!

“Cassie?” Silence. A reedy breath escaped her lips as she tried again, unwilling to let her niece be alone if something was wrong.
She waited, wondering if she'd only imagined it. Inhaling, she turned the knob and poked her head in the door. “Cass . . . are you awake?”

No answer.

Silently crossing the room, Cait bent over Cassie's sleeping form to place a hand to her forehead, grateful it was still cool. She released a shaky sigh. Thank goodness—obviously her imagination was working overtime. Relieved, she caressed a gentle hand to her niece's cheek and stopped, her fingers suddenly wet to the touch. She straightened to stare at the sleeping girl and noted the sheen of moisture on her face in the moonlight.
Oh, Cass 
. . .

Whether asleep or not, she was tempted to leave and close the door, but only because she knew it was what Cassie wanted, to be left alone, to fend for herself in this sudden malaise she'd found herself in. And yet, Cait could not. Not when her own heart had been wounded by the hurt she'd seen in her niece's eyes. “Alone” might be the coping mechanism for Cassidy McClare, but not while Caitlyn drew air. Padding to the door, she leaned to shut it with a quiet click of the lock and waited, suspecting her niece was still awake.

A muffled sob broke from the shadows, and Caitlyn's heart broke in her chest, propelling her forward with tears in her eyes. “Oh, Cassie, I will not allow people I love to cry alone. Not when prayer can heal an aching heart.”

Cassie jolted up, face slick with tears and her voice nasal from weeping. “Aunt Cait . . . ?”

Caitlyn eased down on the edge of the bed, and with a quiver of her lip, Cassie launched into her arms with a sob that wracked both of their bodies.

Head bent to hers, Caitlyn soothed with a gentle massage of her back. “It's okay, darling, you just go ahead and get it all out.”
She stroked her hair, eyes closed and heart heavy, until the last sob trailed into a shuddering heave, leaving Cassie limp in her arms. Tugging a handkerchief from her pocket, Caitlyn wiped the tears from her niece's eyes before handing it over. Her gaze was tender as she watched Cassie blow her nose. “Oh, darling, what's wrong?”

With a sorrowful sniff, Cassie inched back against the headboard, shoulders slumped and voice congested. She stared at the handkerchief in her hands, gaze lapsing into a soulless stare. “I did it again, Aunt Cait,” she whispered, “fell in love with a man who broke my heart.”

Cait's stomach lurched. “What? But who—” She sucked in a sharp draw of air, Jamie's absence at family dinners of late suddenly making more sense. Exhaling slowly, she laid a hand to Cassie's leg. “You mean Jamie? Goodness, Cass, I knew he was interested in you, of course, but I thought you just opted to be friends.”

A harsh laugh tripped from Cassie's lips. “Oh no, Aunt Cait, a man like Jamie MacKenna wouldn't settle for ‘just friends.' No, he pushes and prods and pretty boy's his way into a girl's heart whether she likes it or not, until the chase is over, and then he's gone.”

“What?” Caitlyn's body went cold. “What do you mean?”

Cassie peered at her aunt, eyes narrowed enough to convey her anger. “I mean Jamie pursued me since the night I arrived, making advances that I deflected at every turn. I insisted on friendship, but no . . . the man was so desperate to win me over, he proposed courtship.”

Caitlyn stared, mouth agape.
Good heavens!

“But I remembered what you said about God's best, about saving myself for a man who loves God as much as I do, and Jamie's faith was minimal at best, if he even believes at all.”

“No . . .” Caitlyn's voice was a shocked whisper.

“So I put him off again, which only challenged him more.” She sniffed and blew her nose while some of the anger ebbed away. “But he was winning me over, Aunt Cait, with his attention, his charm, his persistence. So much so that I . . .” A heave shivered her chest. “Well, I agreed to give him a chance to court me if he drew closer to God . . .”

Caitlyn blinked, the pieces of the puzzle taking shape. “Which is why he started attending church with us on Sundays and then book study with you on Thursday nights,” she whispered.

Cassie nodded, blotting her face. “Yes, along with the stipulation he make no more advances until we were officially courting. But then in Napa, he . . . ,” her throat shifted as she stared at the handkerchief in her hands, her voice wavering, “kissed me to coerce me into courtship, and when he did, I knew . . . knew that I loved him and wanted to say yes.”

Caitlyn caught her breath. “And now he's courting Patricia?” She cupped Cassie's face, the hurt in her eyes a mirror reflection of her niece's. “But why?”

———

Why, indeed.
Cassie's eyes weighted closed, her aunt's question piercing her heart.
Because money's more important to Jamie,
she wanted to say, but knew she could not. As much as Jamie had wounded and betrayed her, she would not do the same to someone she loved. And although every nerve in her body railed and raged against it, love him she did, even still. Albeit a love so steeped in hurt and anger that there was no way she could stay. She opened her eyes to see the worry in her aunt's face and determined she would not burden her further with what Jamie had done. She had no desire to damage her family's opinion of a man they loved and counted as their own, and if Alli hadn't badgered her tonight, she
wouldn't have told her either. As it was, she had to beg Alli not to scratch Jamie's eyes out—something she herself was inclined to do at the moment. Heaving a weary sigh, she stared at Aunt Cait through eyes blurred with tears. “Why? Because he said he couldn't have faith in a God who would his allow his sister to be in such pain.”

“Oh, Cass . . .” Aunt Cait swallowed her in a hug.

She sniffed, tone wobbly as she leaned into her aunt's embrace. “Why do we have to fall in love with men who are no good for us?” she whispered.

Her aunt paused a long while, and Cassie suspected she was thinking of Uncle Logan. A wispy sigh feathered her face as Aunt Cait stroked her hair, her voice soft and low. “Why, darling? Because you see, as crazy as this sounds, men like Jamie and your Uncle Logan are . . . ,” she paused to cup Cassie's face in her hands, the barest trace of a tease on her face, “chocolate layer cake.” Her smile turned sad. “And sometimes, my love, one has a weakness for sweets.”

Cassie sat up, a crimp in her brow. “What do you mean, Aunt Cait?”

She smiled and tugged Cassie back, settling in once again. “I mean sometimes we want what we shouldn't have.” She paused, her gaze wandering into a faraway stare while the faintest of smiles tipped on her lips. “I remember the first time your Uncle Liam took me to our favorite restaurant—oh, how my mouth watered when I saw the dessert tray that night. There, under a crystal dome, sat the most beautiful piece of cake that I just
had
to have—my favorite, of course, white cake with seven layers of chocolate buttercream icing. Oh my, how your uncle laughed when I closed my eyes for that very first taste, promptly spitting it into my napkin when I discovered it was dark chocolate.”

She shivered, and Cassie couldn't help but smile. “Good heavens, how I despise dark chocolate, so your Uncle Liam was kind enough to trade desserts.” A soft chuckle drifted from her lips as she shook her head. “Do you know that I ordered that
same
piece of layer cake at least four times throughout the course of our marriage? I was so enticed by how it looked, I was convinced it would taste different each time.” Her chest rose and fell with a wispy sigh. “Of course it never did, but oh, how it would make your uncle laugh.” Her smile turned melancholy. “He claimed I was bedazzled by sweets, and of course he was right. Goodness, how I would moan and groan when Mother or Rosie threatened no dessert until I ate my vegetables, especially broccoli, which I detested almost as much as dark chocolate. Once when Rosie made one of my favorites—vanilla bean cheesecake—I made up my mind that this one night I would eat dessert first. So while Mother napped and Rosie ran errands, I helped myself to half a cheesecake.”

“Oh, Aunt Cait, no!”

She chuckled. “Yes, I'm afraid I did, not only earning the biggest bellyache I'd ever had, mind you, but ruining me for cheesecake ever again.” She tucked a strand of Cassie's hair over her ear, offering a smile tinged with sadness. “You see, Cassie, when I met your Uncle Logan, his pull over me was a lot like that seven-layer cake—I just had to have him. No matter that he had a reputation my parents didn't trust or that he didn't seem to have a heart for God, all I knew is that he was oh, so sweet and his kisses tasted oh, so wonderful. It wasn't until I married Liam that I realized Logan was a dessert that enticed, while Liam was a main course with substance that would nurture and help me grow strong. A man of faith who drew his sustenance and strength from a God who is the Bread of Life, whose very Word sustains us and grows us into the women we are meant to be.”

Her aunt shifted to look into her eyes, the affection in her gaze as warm as the gentle hand that now kneaded Cassie's arm. “Why do we fall in love with men who aren't good for us? Perhaps because God wants us to know that without him, a relationship will not grow or sustain like he wants it to and may, in fact, make us sick. That without him, we will never fully be satisfied or enriched in anything we do, especially our relationships. Which means, Cassie,” she said with a tender touch of her face, “as wonderful as Jamie is, without God, he's not the man for you, and God is likely allowing this heartache to spare you a bellyache down the road.”

Cassie drew in a deep breath and released it in a shuddering sigh. “I know,” she whispered, aware that God had, indeed, spared her from a man she obviously could never trust. But that didn't stem the pain at the moment. Only time and distance could do that. “Aunt Cait?”

“Yes, darling?” Aunt Cait skimmed a hand over Cassie's hair.

“I . . . don't think I can face him again . . .” Tears welled.

Aunt Cait stared, finally consenting with a nod. “You want to go home . . .”

Cassie nodded, the motion unleashing a trail of moisture down her cheeks. “Just until next summer, when you'll be readying the school to open in the fall.” She pushed her tears away, chin jutting enough to let Aunt Cait know Jamie would not deter her from her dream. “Nothing will stop me from being here for you then—nothing!”

It was Aunt Cait's turn to nod, her sigh mournful to Cassie's ears. “When?”

“Tomorrow . . . before Jamie even knows I'm gone.” She swallowed hard, her eyes pleading with Aunt Cait's. “I . . . don't want to leave, Aunt Cait, truly, but I just can't face him right now.” A heave rose in her throat, but she fought it off with anger, infusing
a hint of humor to temper her tone. “Or so help me, God—I will seven-layer the man.”