Love, Come to Me(114)

It was too dangerous a game to be playing. He regretted his offer of comfort as soon as he felt her sobbing against his shoulder, but he could no sooner turn away from Lucy’s tears than he could stop his heart from beating. He thought of what Heath’s friendship meant to him. He thought of his own honor. He thought about Lucy’s happiness. There was only one path before him.

“Here’s something for you to think about,” he said, his voice deliberately light. “At the moment, it would appear to an objective bystander that the two of us are in a far more incriminating situation than Heath and Raine.” Startled, she pulled away from him, her eyes wide. “Which should remind us,” Damon continued evenly, “not to judge by appearances.”

“What are you saying?”

“That nothing’s ever exactly what it seems. And instead of jumping to conclusions, you should let your husband explain his actions. He deserves that chance. He doesn’t deserve to be put through hell because of some misunderstanding.”

“There’s one thing I understand very well,” Lucy said, wiping her wet cheeks with a corner of the handkerchief. “He lied to me. Every minute that he was with me and didn’t tell me that she was still in Boston, he was lying.”

“So would I, if I thought I’d lose you.”

Coming from Damon, that was the response Lucy had least expected. “You wouldn’t really. You’re a gentleman. I don’t believe you would lie . . . would you?”

He sighed. “The problem with having such high expectations of people, Lucy, is that those standards aren’t always easy to live up to. We’re all bound to make mistakes . . . and from where I’m standing, I’d say that Heath makes less mistakes than most.”

“Are you saying I should excuse him for lying to me?”

“Look at it this way: why would Heath risk telling you that Raine was still in Boston when he had every reason to believe you wouldn’t find out? What you didn’t know wouldn’t have hurt you.”

“You’re trying to justify his dishonesty!”

“I’m trying to explain why he didn’t tell you. He thought he could take care of the problem himself and protect you from ever knowing—”

“I don’t need that kind of protection.”

“Then tell him. He’ll listen.”

“How do you know?” she asked suddenly, blowing her nose with a vigorous gust.

“I’ve never seen a man who listens to his wife the way he listens to you.”

“He just humors me.”

“No. No, that’s not it at all. Lucy . . .” Damon broke off with a rueful laugh. “God, he’ll kill me if he ever finds out I told you. But you need to know it, and it’s not right to keep it from you. Lucy, Heath never planned to stay in Massachusetts for more than a few months. It was all because of you that he stayed. You’re the reason he bought the house in Concord and eventually the Examiner. You’re the reason he decided to live in New England instead of going back to the South.”

“W-what? That can’t be true.”

“I’ll swear it on a stack of Bibles. He came to visit me before leaving New England. He said he was leaving here for good, that he hadn’t found what he was looking for, and I thought that was the last I’d ever see of him. He had the look of a man who’d lost his roots. A lot of the veterans turn out like that—they start to wander. Some start walking the rails and jumping boxcars for the rest of their lives—”

“Heath would never have been reduced to that.”

“No, but there was something in his expression . . . something unsettled . . . homeless . . . I can’t explain. You’d have to see it to understand what I’m talking about. It was gone the next time I saw him. He came back a month later and told me he’d bought a place in Concord. Heath said he’d decided on the girl he was going to marry, and he had this ridiculous idea about him and me buying the Examiner, which was sinking like a stone at the time.” Damon laughed softly. “I’m no fool when it comes to money, Lucy. And I didn’t have too much at the time, so I intended to be careful about what I did with it. But I’m damned if Heath didn’t eventually talk me into buying the paper, and then he showed up with you as his wife.”

“Wait a minute . . . did you say that he had decided on the girl he was going to marry right after he bought the place in Concord?”

“It was in late May. He even told me your name.”

“But . . . but that was before he even met me,” Lucy said, astounded. Her mind flew back to that January when he had pulled her out of the frozen river. Heath had bought the house in Concord the summer before that. “He’d only seen me crossing the street, and through the window of my father’s store . . . and you say that he had already decided—”

“What he saw, he must have liked.” Slowly Damon smiled. “What I’m trying to tell you is that it was all for you. You’re the reason for everything he’s done. For that matter, you’re the reason I’m the managing editor of the Examiner. If it weren’t for you, Heath would never have talked me into buying the paper.” Damon regarded her quizzically. “Do you feel better about everything now? No? Then I’ll tell you one more thing . . . no matter what appearances are, only a fool would think that Heath would choose someone else over you. As far as he’s concerned, no woman alive could compete with you. He’s branded for life.”