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Motive: Secret Baby
Debra Webb
His son was in danger – and the curse was far from over… Nicholas had returned to Raven’s Cliff with one goal: reverse the curse and finally put the townspeople’s anguish to rest. But his plan was interrupted when mysterious Camille arrived on his doorstep claiming he was a father – and that their baby was missing.As he and Camille scoured the village looking for the infant, Nicholas made every effort to push aside the heated attraction that neither time nor circumstance could extinguish. After all, finding his son and ending the curse was his priority. Giving in to passion could be his undoing…THE CURSE OF RAVEN’S CLIFF – A small town with sinister secrets…
“I need you to kiss me, Nicholas.”
Camille’s whispered plea was his undoing. He couldn’t have said no, couldn’t have resisted if his life had depended on it.
He leaned in, let his lips brush hers. She shivered. Just a soft, chaste meeting of the lips. The sensation sent desire rushing - through him.
She touched his face. Not the smooth, undamaged side, but the ugly, ravaged side. He started to draw away, but her other hand curled around his neck and held him still. Gentle fingers traced the hideous scars. He wanted to bolt, to hide his ugliness from her beauty.
“I don’t see this when I look at you,” she murmured. “I only see you. The man I once loved so much.”
He wanted to respond, but couldn’t let this distract him. Not only did Camille and her child’s well-being depend on him, but the future of Raven’s Cliff hung in the balance as well. He needed to remember that.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Debra Webb was born in Scottsboro, Alabama, to parents who taught her that anything is possible if you want it badly enough. She began writing at the age of nine. Eventually, she met and married the man of her dreams, and tried some other occupations, including selling vacuum cleaners, working in a factory, a day-care centre, a hospital and a department store. When her husband joined the military, they moved to Berlin, Germany, and Debra became a secretary in the commanding general’s office. By 1985 they were back in the States, and finally moved to Tennessee, to a small town where everyone knows everybody else. With the support of her husband and two beautiful daughters, Debra took up writing again, looking to mystery and movies for inspiration. In 1998, her dream of writing came true. You can write to Debra with your comments at PO Box 64, Huntland, Tennessee 37345, USA or visit her website at http://www.debrawebb.com to find out exciting news about her next book.
Motive: Secret Baby
DEBRA WEBB
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
This book is dedicated to the folks who live in
small towns. I’m certain when Dorothy said
those famous words, “There’s no place like
home,” she was talking about the small towns
and the folks who live there. Where life is
simple and everyone knows everyone
else and everyone cares.
Prologue
The waves crashed ferociously against the rocky shore, sending a salty mist spraying over his bare back. The cool, damp sand beneath his arms felt familiar and comforting. But it was the woman in his arms that filled his heart and soul with longing, and at the same time with torment. Nicholas Sterling III stared into the eyes of the woman he held so tightly.
The woman with whom he had made slow, passionate love for the last time.
How could he never hold her this way again? How could he pretend what they shared meant nothing and go on with his life?
Agony squeezed his heart. Yet he must. He had an obligation. His family had arranged his marriage, his whole life. Starting tomorrow. There was no way to stop the momentum. He was to marry the chosen bride and settle into his arranged future or lose everything. His family…his inheritance. To defy his family’s wishes would be to exile himself from Raven’s Cliff and all that he knew.
Did he not possess the courage to start over somewhere else on his own? With nothing?
Nicholas pushed away the thought. Perhaps he was a coward. It was far too late to delve into a self-analysis. Tomorrow he would do as his family demanded.
But tonight was his. His and Camille’s.
One last night to hold her. Nicholas dipped his head and tasted her sweet lips once more. Camille whimpered softly. She loved him. He knew she did.
And he loved her…desperately.
Unfortunately love was not enough.
He stilled. The bitterness of regret tainted his soul despite his determination to put all but this moment aside. The truth was, what he was doing now was unfair to Camille. Unfair to the woman he was to marry and to his family.
Those damned obligations.
This was a hell of a time for his conscience to decide it worked after all. Not once had he ever let anyone else’s expectations block his path, so why tonight?
What made this night different from all the others that had come before it?
Just because in less than twenty-four hours he was scheduled to wed a woman his family had hand-picked for him…just because…
Doom crashed down around him as if lightning had struck with unerring force. An overwhelming of loss pressed against his chest.
Tonight…was the night.
“Dear God…” He’d forgotten to go to the lighthouse.
“What’s wrong?” Camille wiggled out of his arms and scooted up to a sitting position. “Nicholas?”
His gaze met hers and in a single instant he saw his true destiny reflected there. Death.
“I have to go.” Nicholas scrambled to his feet, jerked on his jeans. “I’m sorry. I—”
“Please tell me what’s wrong.” Draping her abandoned dress over her bare breasts, she stared up at him, her eyes wide with worry and sadness…with her own regret. This was their last time together.
For a moment he couldn’t move. He wanted so badly to take her into his arms again…to promise her whatever necessary to banish the sadness in those blue eyes.
How had he allowed his life to come to this place where nothing was as it should be?
A deafening whoosh blasted the night air, shattering the thick, tense silence. Nicholas lifted his face to the night, scanned the craggy cliff above their secluded, sandy haven.
Flames danced, illuminating the dark velvet sky.
“The lighthouse…” Apprehension tightened its noose on his neck.
He had to hurry. Before it was too late.
Nicholas ran, skirted the rocky shore his feet knew by heart until he reached the narrow path that ascended the jagged cliff side.
His grandfather had warned him not to forget.
But Nicholas had shirked that obligation as he had most put before him.
Now he was too late.
Way too late.
The designated time had come and gone.
Dread constricted his lungs, making it difficult to breathe.
What had he done?
As he reached the summit, found his balance on the ledge that overlooked the restless ocean below, his worst fears were realized.
The lighthouse was on fire…the upper portion— the watch room where the lantern waited…unlit— glowed with the destructive fingers of fire.
A new kind of panic seized his heart.
“Grandfather!”
Though Nicholas had ignored his duty, his grandfather never would. Nicholas charged toward the lighthouse, flung open the door and mounted the steep, winding stairs two at a time.
“Grandfather!”
When he bounded up the final step his heart lurched. The watch room was almost completely engulfed. A kerosene can was overturned near the lantern. His grandfather lay on the floor beside it. Nicholas rushed to the motionless old man and dropped to his knees.
“Grandfather, it’s okay. I’m here now.” He lifted the old man into his arms.
Unseeing eyes peered up at him. Anguish tore at Nicholas’s soul.
“No!” The scream echoed around him. The flames crept closer. Nicholas didn’t care. His grandfather was dead and it was his fault.
“No. No. No.” Desperate, Nicholas attempted CPR. “Breathe,” he demanded between the puffs of air he forced into the unresponsive lungs.
Splitting glass screeched above the roar of the devouring blaze.
Nicholas glanced up at the lantern. The glass had shattered. He surveyed the wall of glass surrounding the watch room, then the floor where jagged shards had been spewed across it. The heat from the flames, he realized. The fire had swept a full circle around him.
He peered down at his grandfather. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m so sorry.”
Ice abruptly rushed through Nicholas’s veins. His gaze was drawn back to the lantern as if a voice had whispered from it. The precious gemstones suddenly glistened, reflecting the light of the savage flames. Words gleamed across the metal of the lantern’s casement—words he had never noticed before.
Fire and ice…life and death…look into your heart.
Confusion and misery made Nicholas’s head spin.
He had killed his grandfather…destroyed the lighthouse…he was responsible…all of this was his fault.
Now is not the time to give up…there is still hope.
A force Nicholas could not name drew him to his feet…drew him to the lantern.
I pray the hollows my soul to keep.
Nicholas could almost hear his grandfather’s voice reciting the silly childhood prayer….
His grandfather lay still, unmoving on the floor.
This didn’t make sense. Nicholas was delusional. Did one lose his mind in those final moments before death claimed him?
Now I lay me down to sleep.
“Stop!” Nicholas put his hands over his ears. This couldn’t be real.
I pray the hollows my soul to keep.
A frantic cry from far below snapped Nicholas from the baffling trance he’d slipped into. He coughed. Smoke had invaded deep into his lungs.
Another desperate cry.
Camille.
She shouted his name from the ground below.
If she tried to come up the stairs after him…too dangerous.
He would not be responsible for her death as well.
Summoning the courage that had deserted him in his misery, he shouted, “Get help!” Nicholas rushed back to where his grandfather lay and hefted him into his arms. He tried to dart through the flames to reach the stairs, but it was impossible. The entire upper portion of the staircase was swallowed up by the devouring blaze.
Defeat sucked at Nicholas’s trembling limbs. There was no escape.
He was going to die.
Nicholas peered down at his beloved grandfather.
This was Nicholas’s fault. He deserved to die.
And Raven’s Cliff will die with you.
He jerked with a start at the words.
Where had that voice come from?
He turned all the way around. The fire had trapped him. Yet, there was no one else, except his grandfather, who could have spoken to him.
Nicholas shook his head. He was hearing things again. His jaw hardened as sweat ran down his bare skin. You deserve to die, he reminded himself and the voice.
