Wild in the Field (15 page)

“You did.”

“Yes. I was grieving. For Robert. And for the injustice of a life lost. I didn't know how to cope…but then you came along, with your bullying and your tough love. Everybody coddled me but you.” She cocked her head. “I guess I'm like the lavender, Pete. Pamper me too much and I just get soft. But if you give me a chance to be strong, that's who I am, who I want to be. Strong.”

“Could we go back to what you said about being with me—”

“We're getting to that,” she assured him, and handed him a buttered roll.

He put it down on his plate.

“You pushed me back into life. But I was selfish. I didn't realize that you were suffering from grief, too. That you had just as big a loss to recover from as I did. But you had to be strong for your boys, strong for your father, so you never had a chance to deal with it.”

“I don't have anything to deal with.”

“Pete. I'm so sorry she didn't value you. I'm even sorry for her that she was so stupid. I can't imagine a woman in her right mind leaving your bed or your life—not once I knew, for myself, how much love you had in you. She was obviously completely demented.”

It took him a second to figure out that “she” was his ex-wife. How the hell she'd gotten into the conversation confounded him. “Um—”

Her voice gathered strength, came out clear and true and sweet. “I loved Robert. You always seemed to accept that, and I'm grateful, because that was a wonderfully good part of my life. But knowing you, Pete, and seeing how you handled a time when I was terrible trouble…how you accepted me when I couldn't even accept myself…that's a deeper kind of love than I ever knew existed. It's the kind of love I want now. It's the kind of love I'm willing to fight for now. And it's the kind of love that I'm strong enough to fight for.”

She sprang up and surged over to his side of the table, but then hesitated. Suddenly she didn't seem so sure of her welcome—but that changed. Faster than the speed of sound, he tugged her on his lap and swooped her tight in his arms. She let out a long, achy sigh and nestled there, her arms hooked around his neck, the sunset dabbling jewel colors through the trees on her face. “Are you going to ever get around to kissing me, MacDougal?”

“I'm going to do more than kiss you,” he assured her. “But right now, I'm still trying to remember how to breathe. How to believe. Because I wasn't looking to believe in love again, Cam.”

“Neither was I, so revenge is sweet. I didn't want to love anyone. Ever again. But you made me, Pete.” Since he was being so poke slow, she blessed the touch of her lips against his. Damn, but her big strong Scots neighbor suddenly wasn't so steady. That forehead of his was still furrowed with the shadow of a frown, his eyes still haunted.

“I love you,” he said softly, fiercely.

“I know. And I should have figured out how much you cared, from all the ways you showed me. All that
yelling at me. And insulting me. And giving me that dadblamed dog—”

“The one you're not going to keep?”

“I'm keeping him. And the cat. And the boys. And your dad. And even Hortense. But most of all, I'm keeping you, MacDougal. Forever.”

She kissed him again…or maybe he was the one who stole that one. Whoever was taking credit, the kiss started out slow and built up momentum. Who would have guessed that tenderness could be flavored with passion, that their pasts opened up everything they wanted for each other's future?

He'd opened up her world, she thought, but she'd do her best to open up his now. The expert in tough love was about to get his comeuppance. A lifetime of the softest love she could possibly share with him.

He broke free for a moment, murmured, “Camille, I never thought you'd need me. Not once you felt stronger again.”

“I am strong. And I do need you. I'd like to think we need each other.”

“But you loved your city job.”

She touched his cheek, his brow. “Yeah. I did love it. But people change. I love the land, too. I love your sons. In fact…I'm kind of thinking about running an animal shelter.”

That made him open his eyes. “You wouldn't do that to me,” he told her.

“Aw, MacDougal,” she whispered, “you have no idea all the terrifying, terrible, wonderful things I hope to do to you.”

But he would, she thought. Because love had given her that kind of extraordinary power and strength. And she had a lifetime to vent it all on Pete.

I
t used to take time to set up a transatlantic call, but these days Violet just had to dial. Sometimes the connection was a tad fuzzy, but tonight it was perfect.

Unfortunately, it was early in Provence, and Daisy didn't take well to being wakened up at the crack of dawn.

“Darn, I'm sorry. I can never seem to remember how many hours difference it is between here and France. But I just had to call and tell you—they're gone.”

“Who's gone?”

“Camille and Pete, of course. You wouldn't believe how gorgeous she looked. And how happy.” Violet swung her legs on the desk, beaming herself. “She was so happy she shined like a sun ray.”

Daisy sighed right along with her. “Cut it out. You're gonna make me cry. But man…she is so overdue for some happiness after all she's been through. Did they tell you where they're going?”

“No. Darn it. You'd think after all you and I went through, planning Pete being around her, matchmaking the whole thing, that they could at least have said where they were going to elope.” Violet sipped at her lavender tea. “On the other hand, she packed three bikinis and not much else.”

“Ah,” Daisy said, with that perfect French accent of hers. “So we can relax now.”

“Yeah. I'm checking on the boys and his dad until they get back. And somehow between the two houses, there seem to be a dozen animals to watch over. And I don't know what I'm going to do with all this lavender—”

“The point, sis, is what we're going to do about
you
now.”

“Huh?”

“We've got Camille settled. But now,
chérie
, it's your turn.”

Violet blinked. “I don't understand.”

“You don't have to understand. You just relax, and let me take charge. But for right now, I'm going back to sleep. It isn't even dawn yet. Love you, Violet. And on Camille—we did good.”

“Yup, we did,” Violet agreed, before hanging up the phone. Daisy hadn't made a lot of sense, but then none of the Campbell sisters appreciated being wak
ened from a sound sleep. She'd counted on having a longer conversation with Daisy, but it didn't matter. They'd talk again soon.