Christine Scott - Safe In His Arms

Samuel said, breaking the strained silence. He met her surprised gaze without wavering. “You want me to help you uncover your past. I know who you were when you used to live on this island. I’d like to know who you are now, the person you’ve become.”

Jessie bit her lip, considering her answer. How much did she want to tell him? That she was haunted by dreams she couldn’t explain? That she’d never been able to make a relationship last because she wouldn’t allow herself to trust anyone? That she’d come to the island in search of a past, because she was desperate to save herself from a dismal future?

No, she couldn’t tell him the truth. No matter how much she might want to confide in him, she wasn’t ready to reveal that much about herself to anyone.

Dear Reader,

This is a very special month here at Intimate Moments. We’re celebrating the publication of our 1000th novel, and what a book it is! Angel Meets the Badman is the latest from award-winning and bestselling Maggie Shayne, and it’s part of her ongoing miniseries, THE TEXAS BRAND. It’s a page-turner par excellence, so take it home, sit back and prepare to be enthralled.

Ruth Langan’s back, and Intimate Moments has got her. This month this historical romance star continues to win contemporary readers’ hearts with The Wildes of Wyoming— Hazard, the latest in her wonderful contemporary miniseries about the three Wilde brothers. Paula Detmer Riggs returns to MATERNITY ROW, the site of so many births—and so many happy endings—with Daddy by Choice. And look for the connected MATERNITY ROW short story, “Family by Fate,” in our new Mother’s Day collection, A Bouquet of Babies. Merline Lovelace brings readers another of the MEN OF THE BAR H in The Harder They Fall—and you’re definitely going to fall for hero Evan Henderson. Cinderella and the Spy is the latest from Sally Tyler Hayes, an author with a real knack for mixing romance and suspense in just the right proportions. And finally, there’s Safe in His Arms, a wonderful amnesia story from Christine Scott.

Enjoy them all, and we’ll see you again next month, when you can once again find some of the best and most exciting romance reading around, right here in Silhouette Intimate Moments.

Yours,

Leslie J. Wainger

Executive Senior Editor

www.millsandboon.co.uk

To my mother-in-law, Dutch.

Thank you for your wonderful son, and for being such a loyal supporter of my work.

grew up in Illinois but currently lives in St. Louis, Missouri. A former teacher, she now writes full-time. When she isn’t writing romances, she spends her time caring for her husband and three children. In between car pools, baseball games and dance lessons, Christine always finds time to pick up a good book and read about…love. She loves to hear from readers. Write to her at Box 283, Grover, MO 63040-0283.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Epilogue

Voices.

Loud, angry voices woke her.

Confused and uncertain, Jessie Pierce climbed out of bed. Stumbling, following a night-darkened, long and unfamiliar hallway, she hurried toward the sound of shouting. Her movements were clumsy, her feet leaden, as though she was walking in slow motion. She was disoriented, uncertain where she was headed. Her heart raced, fluttering in her chest like a butterfly’s wings.

The angry voices grew louder. Emotion distorted their timbre, making it hard for her to identify them.

A beam of light sliced through the inky night, blinding her, paralyzing her with fear….

A shape emerged from the shadows.

A shape large and frightening, coming closer, closer…

Her heart leaping in her chest, she stumbled back, one step, two, until she couldn’t go any farther….

And then there was nothing but darkness. All-encompassing darkness.

With a start Jessie’s eyes flew open. She was trembling. Her teeth were chattering—the only sound in the stillness of the night. Her lungs burned in her chest, and she realized she was holding her breath. Releasing the pent-up breath with a whoosh, she gulped in cooling drafts of air and desperately tried to still her shaking limbs.

Perspiration drenched her body. Her silky nightgown clung to her slender body like a second skin. The light from the bathroom cut through the darkness, reassuring her. She glanced from one shadowy corner to the next—nothing appeared out of place. Straining her ears, she heard no angry voices. No sound at all.

All was well.

Or was it?

Feeling foolish, she realized she’d been dreaming once again. A dream as familiar as life itself, as unwanted as uninvited guests who had overstayed their welcome.

A lump of emotion caught painfully in her throat. She swallowed hard, trying to ease an overwhelming sense of dread, of loss. Jessie closed her eyes, fighting the fear that gripped her. When would she ever be free of the dream’s tenacious hold upon her?

At one time she’d sought professional help for the recurring nightmare. But the doctors had no answer, no cure for what ailed her. The thought chilled her, sending a long shiver down her spine. Opening her eyes, she noted the early hour on her bedside clock. It was only four in the morning, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep again. Tossing the blankets aside, she scrambled out of bed and reached for her robe. She tied its satiny belt securely around her waist, stepped into a pair of house slippers and hurried from her bedroom.

Muted light coming from a small table lamp lit the hallway leading to the living room. In her world there was never complete darkness. Since she was a child, Jessie had feared the night and what it might bring. As an adult she was embarrassed to admit to anyone that she’d been unable to overcome the weakness.

Snapping on the light over her desk, Jessie stared at the drawing she’d been working on before she’d gone to bed. It was a dark and mysterious illustration, one of many she’d been commissioned to draw for a children’s book. The book was a quixotic tale of one young boy’s quest to slay dragons. A tale of good overcoming evil, a tale of strength and courage. One that she found herself envying.

Goodness only knew, she had her own dragons to slay.

Jessie shivered, the memory of her nightmare still too fresh. It pained her to admit that she hadn’t the courage to face the monster of her own dreams.

Pushing the disturbing thought from her mind, she picked up one of the illustrations. Known for her eye for detail and her talent for bringing a story to life, she’d become quite successful as an illustrator at a relatively young age. It was a job that allowed her to work out of her apartment in Atlanta, letting her set her own hours. It also kept her isolated from others.

Which she desired most.

The truth was, she found more comfort in her art than she did with people. Jessie sighed. Her mother, bless her heart, worried about her solitary life. Since her father’s death one year ago, her mother seemed even more determined to push Jessie out into the world. She needed to make more friends, her mother often chided her, to open her heart to new relationships, to fall in love so that she wouldn’t ever have to be alone.

Jessie didn’t try to argue. She knew her mother’s intentions were good, though misguided. What her mother didn’t understand was that Jessie wanted it all. A husband, a family…someone to love, someone who would love her.

She didn’t want to live her life alone. But a solitary life was all she could handle. Opening up her heart, trusting others just wasn’t as easy as it might seem.

For Jessie it was impossible.

Just a few days ago, on their last visit together, her mother had seemed inordinately preoccupied with Jessie’s welfare, obsessing on her need for a secure future. Jessie had tried to laugh off the concern, telling her that, with a mother like her living nearby, she had all the love and security one person could handle. She remembered the worried expression that had flitted across her mother’s face at her flippant response.

Jessie pushed the disturbing image from her mind, picking up a charcoal pencil. Trying not to notice the trembling of her hand, she forced herself to work on the illustration. Purposefully she cleared her mind and focused her attention on the drawing, not stopping until she was finished.

Later, her fingers stiff with overuse, she laid her pencil down on the desktop and sighed with relief, satisfied with what she’d accomplished. Flexing her fingers, stretching the kinks from her muscles, she glanced outside the apartment’s large picture window and was surprised to see the early rays of dawn filtering through the cloud-laden sky. She must have been working for over an hour, though it had only seemed like minutes.

The phone rang, jarring her out of her reverie.

Startled by the early-morning call, she snatched the receiver from its cradle, anxious to still its insistent peal. “Hello?”

“Jessie?” It was Eugenia, her mother’s housekeeper. More than a housekeeper, she was her mother’s loyal friend, a valued member of the family. The pain shadowing Eugenia’s voice sent an arrow of dread darting through Jessie’s heart.

“Eugenia, what is it?” Jessie demanded. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s your mother,” Eugenia said carefully, regret lacing her tone. “She’s gone, Jessie.”

“Gone? I don’t understand. Gone where?”

A strained silence followed.

“No, you can’t mean—” Jessie’s voice broke beneath the heavy weight of disbelief. “She can’t be—”

“I’m so sorry, darling. The best we can figure, it happened early this morning. She went to sleep last night and never woke up. The doctor thinks it was her heart. It…it just gave out on her.”

Early this morning Jessie’s dream…she’d been awakened by an unbearable sense of dread, of loss. Her first thoughts had been of her mother. Surely it had been merely a coincidence.

Or had it?

Jessie closed her eyes against the hot sting of tears. Coincidence or not, her mother’s worst fear had just been realized. For the first time in her life, she was truly, completely alone.

“I don’t understand.” Jessie pointed to the documents spilling out onto the shiny surface of the lawyer’s mahogany desktop. “What are you trying to tell me?”

The lawyer for her parents’ estate shifted uncomfortably in his seat. His round glasses reflected the light of the desk lamp as he looked to Eugenia for guidance.

Eugenia refused to meet his gaze. Instead, she sat stiffly in her chair, her faded-blue eyes, moist with tears, trained on the handkerchief clenched in her trembling hand.

Sighing, the lawyer began, “Miss Pierce, I’m sorry to be the one to have to tell you—”

“I…I told Louise that you needed to know the truth,” Eugenia interrupted, her voice sounding strange, thick with emotion. “But she wouldn’t…she couldn’t bring herself to tell you.”