Chain of Love (4 page)

“Several, as a matter of fact,” Meg continued blithely. “First off, Sin’s been planning on taking Tamlyn down to the Caribbean, and
we thought it would be fun to accompany him. Charles would sail down with him, and I could follow by plane. We wondered if you wanted to come along. You
know you’ve always loved the Caribbean, and I think you need to get away.”

Several things flew through Cathy’s mind, as her eyes caught Sin’s seemingly occupied figure.

“Who’s Tamlyn?” she blurted out, and then could have bitten her tongue at Sin’s amused expression.

“Tamlyn is the most important female in my life,” he replied, watching her expressive face beneath the glasses. “You’ve already
berated me for spending too much money on her.”

“I did?” she echoed, mystified. “Oh. Tamlyn is the boat,” she realized belatedly.

“Tamlyn is the boat,” he agreed with a smile. “Jealous?”

Her temper flared again, just as he had obviously planned. “God, you’re conceited,” she stormed.

“And you rise so nicely to the bait,” he countered.

“Children, children!” Charles admonished, raising a restraining hand. “You two squabble like a couple of teenagers. Would you listen to
your sister’s idea, Cathy?”

“Okay,” she agreed meekly, shooting a darting glance at the unrepentant Sin.

“I’d love your company, Cathy,” Meg continued persuasively. “Sin and Charles will be spending all their time messing around with
the boat, and you could keep me company. We could shop, and go exploring, and all sorts of fun things. Please say you’ll come with me, Cath.
I’ve hardly seen you at all since Charles and I got married and you met—I mean, I’ve missed you. We’d have so much fun, please,
Cathy.”

“Oh, I don’t think...” she began vaguely.

“There’s no reason why you shouldn’t go. You’re not working anymore, and there isn’t anyone to keep you in town,” Meg
added with her usual lack of tact.

“But I’m not-”

“We won’t be going for another month,” Charles chimed in. “Not till sometime in November, when the rainy season is well past.
I’d consider it a personal favor if you’d come, Cathy. I wouldn’t feel right about abandoning Meg if you weren’t there.”

“Not that he should feel right about abandoning me at all,” Meg laughed, sharing a tender glance with her obviously doting husband. “But
you know what men are like. I doubt we’ll even see them the whole time we’re down there.”

Cathy could feel Sin’s speculative hazel eyes on her averted face. “I still don’t think—”

“I think she’s afraid we’ll all have to crowd on the boat,” Sin’s slow, deep voice broke through. “Maybe you’d
feel better about it when you realize we’ll be staying at Pirate’s Cove on St. Alphonse. This boat is definitely too small for four people,
particularly when two of them scarcely know each other.”

Meg added the most telling argument. “I mentioned the idea to Father and he thought it was terrific, Cath. Please say you’ll come. I’ll
have a miserable time if I’m left to my own devices.”

Cathy hesitated, torn by indecision. She knew perfectly well that to agree would be succumbing to Meg’s blatant matchmaking and tantamount to
throwing herself at what now appeared to be a supremely disinterested Sinclair MacDonald. But for that matter, she too was supremely disinterested. So what
could be the harm in it? If neither of them had any interest in the other, then there was no reason why they couldn’t have a very pleasant time. And
the warm trade winds and aqua water ought to do wonders toward her recovery, she thought, still savoring that word.

“She’ll go,” Sin announced suddenly, nearly catapulting her into disagreement once more. Shooting him a glance of irritation that had
absolutely no effect, she nodded.

“I think I’d like that a lot,” she agreed.

“Terrific!” Meg cried, enveloping her sister in an enthusiastic bear hug. “We’re going to have a ball.”

“This all depends on whether Father is feeling all right,” Cathy warned, immediately having second thoughts.

“Pops is as strong as a horse, and you know it as well as I do,” she shot back. “That tiny heart seizure has been the best thing in the
world for him, forcing him to slow down. The pace he was keeping was killing him.”

“I hope the boredom isn’t finishing the job,” Cathy replied. “Though I think he might actually be enjoying his curtailed
activities.”

“I have little doubt that he is. You know how he loves having his grandchildren around,” said Meg, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. Cathy
noticed the rise in color, and opened her mouth to query her sister, then shut it again. Perhaps Meg was still suffering from the memory of her miscarriage
just six months after her marriage. This was certainly not the moment for Cathy to bring it up.

“Well, that’s settled,” Charles announced, his smooth, tanned face looking quite pleased. “Why don’t we all go out to dinner
to celebrate? You’ve been dying to go to that new Chinese restaurant down by the water, darling, and now’s our chance.”

“No, thank you,” Cathy said hastily. “I really have to be back. I—uh—promised Rosemary I’d be there. She wanted some
help on a sweater she was knitting, and—and she was going to come over.”

Meg eyed her in surprise. “Since when have you learned to knit?” she asked sharply.

“Since this summer. You promised me I’d be back by late afternoon,” she added, rather desperately, and then felt awash with guilt at the
disappointment on both her sister’s and Charles’s faces.

“Well, that’s simple enough, then,” Sin spoke up. “I have to get back to town myself. I’ll take Cathy back, and the two of
you can go out for your dinner. I think an old married couple like yourselves need a romantic dinner alone every now and then, anyway.” Cathy opened
her mouth to protest, then shut it before his quelling look. “You don’t have any objections, do you, Cathy?” She wished desperately she
could think of one good reason not to accompany him. But there was none. None that she could bring herself to mention. Being in Sin’s company with
the protective presence of the Shannons was one thing; spending at least an hour in the confines of an automobile was most definitely another. The cynical
expression on his lean, dark face told her he knew everything that was going through her mind, but there was nothing she could do. Reluctantly, she nodded.
“That would be fine,” she lied, and Sin’s amused smile deepened.

It was all she could do to control the little start of panic that swept over her as she watched Charles and Meg drive off into the gathering dusk. What in
the world was she doing alone here on a deserted dock, trapped in the company of a man she had only just met, a man she found more than unsettling? What
was it Meg had called him? “Somewhat dangerous,” hadn’t she said? And kind. Cathy stared after the retreating taillights, wondering if
she could count on that vaunted kindness.

“The car’s just over there,” Sin’s voice came from directly behind her, and she jumped, emitting a small shriek. Immediately his
strong hands caught her arms, turning her to face him in the twilight shadows. “Hey, calm down. I didn’t mean to startle you.” The hazel
eyes were staring down at her with a worried expression.

“That’s all right.” She pulled away from his grip quite easily. “I’m just a bit on edge.”

The right side of his mouth curved up in a smile. “I’m sure you are. Would it help if I promise I won’t do anything more than shake your
hand? Scout’s honor?”

“I doubt you were ever a scout,” she scoffed.

“Your doubts are misplaced. I was an Eagle Scout, and the pride of my pack. So you see, you’re perfectly safe with me.” He gestured to
the right with a flourish. “I’m afraid my car isn’t quite as new as your sister’s, but I promise it won’t break down or run
out of gas.” He reached for her elbow to guide her to the car, but she nimbly sidestepped him. His grin widened.

“Suit yourself, princess. Follow me.” He headed for the car, and Cathy stuck her tongue out at his tall, broad back before following him. He
was already in the driver’s seat of the small, green BMW. “I’d have held the door for you but I didn’t want to expose myself to a
blistering attack,” he apologized with mock regret as she slid into the passenger seat and fastened the safety belt.

“There’s nothing wrong with common human courtesy,” she replied crossly. “It should simply go both ways. Women have just as much of
a duty to be polite and considerate as men do.”

“Exactly.” His voice was dry as he started up the car.

It took Cathy ten full minutes to apologize. “Sin,” she said, her voice small in the darkened car.

“Yes?” The voice wasn’t terribly encouraging. He had spent the last ten minutes in silent contemplation of the highway, not even glancing
once in Cathy’s direction.

“I’m sorry if I’ve been rude. I’ve been going through a pretty hard time, but I shouldn’t take it out on you.” It took
all her determination to come out with that, but she knew she had to apologize. No matter what her provocation, there was no excuse for her behavior.

“I know.” At the understanding note in his voice Cathy’s resolve nearly broke. And then his meaning came through.

“What do you mean, you know?” she demanded, horrified. “What has Meg been telling you? Damn it, I warned her—”

“Calm down. She only said you’d had a rough time of it recently. Your sister is worried about you,” he explained patiently, as if to a
child. “She talked to her husband and her husband mentioned it to his best friend. It’s only to be expected.”

“Only to be expected that when I make a fool of myself the whole world has to know?” she inquired bitterly.

“I hardly qualify as the whole world,” he said reasonably. “And I know this will come as a great shock, but the previous love affairs of
Miss Cathy Whiteheart are not of great importance to me. I have a great many other things on my mind.”

“I’m sorry,” she said again, and then laughed ruefully. “I always seem to be apologizing to you. Maybe it would be better if I just
kept my mouth shut to begin with.”

“Better, perhaps, but not half as interesting.” His hazel gaze raked her averted profile. “That was very noble of you, to let your sister
and Charles go out tonight. I know a ride home with me was the last thing you wanted.”

Guilt flooded Cathy’s pale cheeks. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, then you wanted to be with me?” he inquired, a satanic lift to his brows.

“No, of course not. I mean—” She broke off, floundering. “I wish you wouldn’t trap me into saying what I don’t
mean,” she said irritably.

“Then maybe we’d be better off not talking at all,” he suggested in a neutral tone.

“Better, but not as interesting,” she shot his words back to him, and was rewarded with a laugh.

“Check and mate.” He chuckled. They fell into a silence, but a surprisingly comfortable one. It was odd, Cathy thought, that neither of them
seemed to feel the need to fill the silent car with idle chatter. Leaning back against the leather seat, she shut her eyes, the tension slowly draining out
of her weary body. A moment later she was sound asleep.

She dreamed she was back with Greg, lying in his arms. It was a dream that had haunted too many of her nights during the past three months, a nightmare
that had no ending. Night after night she had felt the warmth and love turn swiftly into ugly, blinding hate and pain, physical pain as she flinched from
the raging fury that confronted her.

But this time it was different. She felt the sweetness of his breath on her face, the smell of his skin, his aftershave strong in her nostrils, and she
knew if she opened her eyes that Greg’s warm, hazel ones would be smiling down at her. But Greg had cold blue eyes, she thought suddenly, struggling
out of the mists of sleep, and he favored a sickly sweet cologne, not the spicy tang that assailed her. Her eyes opened to stare into the hazel gaze of her
dream, but it belonged to Sin MacDonald.

“Don’t you think it’s a little dark for sunglasses?” he inquired gently, reaching out and taking them from her face before she had
a chance to gather her wits and stop him. The car was parked outside her apartment building, and he was hunkered down on the sidewalk, inside the open
passenger door, staring at her face in great concentration. The streetlight was very bright overhead, and she heard his sudden intake of breath.

“My God, they’re green,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “If I’d known that I wouldn’t have let you wear those
damned sunglasses for so long.”

“Give them back,” she demanded, feeling naked and horribly vulnerable in the face of his piercing regard.

“Cathy, it’s almost nine o’clock at night. You don’t need sunglasses at this hour,” he said in an almost tender voice.
“Besides, you’re home.”

She looked past him at the ancient building that held her apartment and three other luxury flats. “How did you know where I live?” she demanded
suspiciously. “I don’t remember telling you.”

Sighing in exasperation, he rose to his full height, catching her arm and pulling her out of the car at the same time. “That’s because
I’m a Russian spy and it’s my duty to know these things,” he said wearily. “How come the paranoia?”

“Charles must have told you.” Cathy satisfied her own curiosity, not noticing that Sin neither confirmed nor denied it. She held out her hand
politely. “Thank you for driving me home,” she said, her voice hatefully stiff and priggish. She knew she should invite him in for a drink, or
even some dinner, but Sin MacDonald was a fairly overwhelming man, and at that moment she felt she had to be by herself, back in the safety of her
apartment, able to hide from the confusing sensations and emotions that had assaulted her during the long, tiring day. And yet a perverse, totally
irrational part of her wished he’d somehow prolong the evening. Force her to invite him upstairs, or drag her out to dinner. He hadn’t taken no
for an answer before.

This time, however, it appeared that he would.

He stared down at her politely outstretched hand, the sun-lines around his smoky hazel eyes crinkling in amusement. “That’s right. I did
promise to shake your hand.” Clicking his heels together, he took her hand in his and bowed over it, for all the world like a Prussian officer.
“Madame,” he uttered in a thick, guttural accent, “the pleasure is all mine.”