Leaving Madeline alone with the man she’d once promised to marry.
The man she did, and always would, love with all her heart.
“Hello, Harrison.”
CHAPTER TWO
Such a small statement to make. Feet of gravel spread between them but it might as well have been a torrent of raging water, for all the ease with which they could traverse it. He wedged his hands in his pockets and continued to stare at her, that slightly mocking cynicism cast into his face.
“It’s you.” His voice was just as she remembered it. Like butter on warm bread, so smooth and deep, it inspired a physical reaction in her body. The words that voice had whispered to her; the promises it had made.
She almost groaned at the intensity of her feelings.
“Yes. It’s me.”
He frowned, and as he took a step closer, she saw that there were some lines around his eyes now, that had not been there years ago. Laughter lines, they told of a happy life. A life far more filled with mirth than her own. The old Madeline would have pulled her lip between her teeth and stared out at the sea. The new Madeline lifted her sunglasses and met his blue eyes head on. Unflinchingly, unapologetically unafraid.
“How are you, Harrison?”
He seemed to make a similar effort to pull himself together. “I’m fine. What brings you to Whitegate?”
She blanched at the very idea of mentioning her father to this man. For her father had been instrumental in pulling apart, at the seams, the garment of their relationship. “Kenneth.”
As she might have predicted, his dark blue eyes flecked with an emotion that matched the storm brewing over the Atlantic. “Did the old bastard finally summon you back? Wasn’t finished beating you over the head with your perceived errors yet?”
She didn’t react. Harrison’s hatred for her father was matched only by her own. “He’s dying.”
“Shit.” He shook his head and dragged a hand through the honeyed crop. “I’m sorry, Maddie.” The childhood nickname came easily. He shook his head again, as if to erase any trace of that long-forgotten intimacy. “Madeline. I’m sorry, Madeline.”
She nodded. “Usually, I’d try to look grief-stricken. Or at least appropriately sad. That would be transparently false with you though, wouldn’t it?”
A hint of a smile kissed his handsome features. “Yeah.” He shrugged. “If you need help dancing on the old man’s grave, just let me know the time.”
This man had been her future, at one time. Were the theories of parallel universes true? Could she at least hope that there was another world out there? One in which her father hadn’t known what he did? Hadn’t used that information to end their relationship? Might she have been happily married to Harrison, after all, with their own little Ivy running around?
Who could say? Not Madeline. What she did know was that Harrison had moved on. Had married, and had a baby. A little girl with huge chocolate eyes, a winning smile and an inquisitive nature that was just like her father.
“Where’s your husband, Maddie?”
Oh, the pain those words inflicted to her battered heart. For Harrison to ask about Dean was almost impossible to bear. Now, Madeline did flicker her eyes to the horizon, in a telling sign of discomfort. Harrison noticed. Hell, he noticed everything about this woman anyway. Always had done. Since he had first seen her, he felt as though he’d been struck by lightning. But his job as the town’s Chief of Police meant he had particularly keen analytical skills.
“Still in D.C.” There could be no point going into her sad, inevitable marriage breakdown with the man she’d once loved.
Harrison’s lips compressed minutely. “Coming to the funeral?”
Out of misplaced loyalty, Madeline closed her eyes and whispered, “He’s not dead yet, Harrison.”
“A man can dream.”
Madeline looked at him with a sense of distant, gaping hurt. “Your little girl is lovely, Harrison.”
The mention of Ivy made his features relax. He tossed a rueful look over his shoulder, in the direction his daughter had walked moments earlier. “She’s part lovely, part troublemaker.”
“Takes after you then,” she murmured, allowing herself the brief indulgence of properly admiring his handsome face. Those eyes, so mysterious and filled with secrets, rimmed with dark lashes. They were the deepest blue, and they always betrayed his mood.
“Unfortunately, in most ways, yes. Wish she had a bit more of her mother in her.”
His reference to Sally, Ivy’s mother, made her blood fill with ice water. Unlike Madeline, Harrison had married for love. He’d truly moved his life forward. Though Harrison didn’t know it, Madeline had met Sally. Had liked her. The moment she’d realised who Harrison had chosen to live his life with, after her, Madeline had understood that she’d lost him for good. In the brief time she’d spent with Sally, Madeline had seen for herself the woman’s kind, generous heart, and sweet nature. He’d found someone far more capable of giving him happiness, and she’d given him a child too. Madeline squared her shoulders, as she might have done if she were going into a policy meeting with important lawmakers.
“I should go. I’m late.” What more was there to say? Where could they even begin?
She was so distant. This woman he’d once loved with all his heart. She might as well have been a stranger to him, for all the connection he felt with her. That coldness infuriated him. It offended him. Though he could usually be counted on to keep a firm grip on his temper, he felt it dropping out of his control now. His words came out as a condemning hiss. “Go. For God’s sake, go. Get out of Whitegate as soon as you can, Madeline. If I never see you again, it will be too soon.”
She turned and strode away before he could see the way his harsh words had affected her. The way his dismissal had dug a hole into her being.
She deserved it. She knew she’d broken his heart, when she had been forced to end their engagement. And if she’d had any other choice, she would have taken it. But, after her father’s ultimatum, there was no way she could go through with their marriage. No way on hell would she expose the guy she loved most in the world to the hurt and pain Kenneth Bartlett intended to inflict.
So Harrison had moved on.
Kenneth had forgotten, eventually.
And Madeline had existed in a frozen sort of state of hell, going through the motions of life whilst sometimes wishing she were no longer in it.
She unlocked her Mercedes with the same sense of purpose she was famous for; but her heart, her weak heart, was hammering against her slender chest like a butterfly trapped in a glass.
The drive to the ranch took less than ten minutes. It was just around the cape from the township, and Madeline hugged the coastline with her sports car. She let the top down, despite the inclement, moody day, so that the wind could rustle her perfect hair. She tilted her head upwards a little, enjoying the feeling of the precipitation on her face.
The ranch was a coastal mansion that had been in the Bartlett family for generations. Their proud lineage had its roots in cotton farming and then banking, and now, politics. Their dynastic presence on Capitol Hill belonged with all the other great political families.
The ranch reflected their esteemed place in American history. In the Dutch style of architecture, the house was made of timber and painted white, with two long wings joining in a central house. The roof was red brick, and each window had grey shutters. The grounds were expansive and immaculately kept, stretching to the rugged coastline of the North Atlantic. Ancient Oak trees lined the sweeping drive and, Madeline’s car made a crunching noise on the small gravel as she steered it towards the disused stables.
The house had been the scene of a suffocating childhood, but she couldn’t bring herself to hate it. It was a creation of great, great beauty. She grabbed her Wholefoods bag out of the boot and walked with her innate elegance towards the side entrance.
“Your father’s eaten already.” Arielle barely looked up when Madeline entered, her groceries hung over one shoulder.
“I got held up,” she murmured, placing the bag down on the marble bench top. Her cheeks had a very slight, betraying blush, after her quick run from the garages to the main house.
“No matter. It’s not like he can make it to the dining room now anyway.”
Madeline’s feelings were in a spin. Though she hated her father, and would never forgive him for how he’d hurt her, the responsibilities she’d been raised to respect reared their heads. “I’m sorry, mama. I meant to be back, only I met someone and…”
Arielle’s nod was tight. The toll of caring for an invalid Kenneth was showing. Madeline watched with the disinterested pain of an outsider. Eight years away had given her that vantage point.
“Have you eaten?”
Madeline looked at her bespoke Tiffany watch with a small shrug. She hadn’t eaten, but she rarely found the time for a meal in the daytime. It was her worst habit – forgetting to eat – and one she was trying hard to break. “I’ll make a coffee. Can I make one for you?”
Arielle shook her neat blonde head from side to side. “I have enough trouble sleeping as it is.”
“It’s still lunch time, mama.” Madeline retorted quietly, slipping a pod into the nespresso system. “I’m sure a small coffee won’t keep you up.”