a bichon. “I think I found her.”
He turned around and strode back down the path, eyeing the bedraggled animal in disgust when he reached Meghan’s side. “It’s about time.”
You’re welcome, Meghan thought. If he would have swallowed his manly pride and simply called the dog by her name, they probably wouldn’t have had to trek through the woods to find her.
Miss Molly wiggled in Meghan’s arms and gazed adoringly at Bert.
Hey, who was the one who rescued you? Meghan wanted to remind her. This guy called you a rodent….
Bert stripped off his lightweight nylon jacket and tucked it around the dog. Then he took Meghan’s duffel bag and slung it over his shoulder. “Let’s go.”
Meghan smiled as she followed him back down the trail. So there was a heart beating underneath the little polo player embroidered on his shirt.
When they emerged from the woods, Bert ignored the flagstone path and cut across the yard toward the house. Meghan could see a collection of strange silhouettes in the shadows and silently kicked herself for falling asleep in the boathouse. Now she’d have to wait until morning to explore the island.
“Did you find her?” Light spilled onto the grass as a woman suddenly appeared in the doorway.
“We found her,” Bert replied tersely.
“We?”
Meghan felt a sudden urge to jump behind a shrub as the woman’s head turned in her direction. For the hundredth time that day she wondered what she’d gotten herself into. Or, more accurately, what had her dad and Nina Bonnefield gotten her into? And why had she agreed?
Because Ms. Bonnefield had somehow figured out that while Meghan wouldn’t be swayed by a generous personal check, the offer of a sizable donation to a ministry close to her heart would tip the balance in her favor.
“Come inside, both of you. You must be soaked to the skin.” The woman stepped back as they reached the semicircle of flagstones in front of the weathered red door. The elements had stripped most of the original paint away and left the lion’s head door knocker tarnished.
What exactly was the caretaker taking care of? That’s what Meghan wanted to know.
She unveiled Miss Molly and the little dog almost leaped out of her arms when she spotted the other woman standing in the hall.
Their reunion gave Meghan a chance to covertly study Miss Molly’s owner. She looked to be in her late fifties, but the combination of a petite figure and ash-blonde hair, shot with silver and cut in a short, low-maintenance style, gave her an almost pixielike appearance.
“I take it she belongs to you.” Meghan gently eased the dog into the woman’s arms but not before Miss Molly swiped Meghan’s cheek in a polite doggy thank-you.
“She does, but over the past few days, I think she’s decided she’d rather belong to him.” The woman’s eyes sparkled behind delicate gold-framed glasses. “That’s how she got lost. She snuck out of the house and went looking for her new friend.”
Meghan hid a smile when Bert winced.
“Follow me. I have a fire going in the library. I know it’s the middle of summer but on nights like this, there’s nothing more comforting than a cup of tea in front of the fireplace.”
Meghan liked the woman immediately.
“I’m Meghan McBride. The wedding photographer.” Maybe if she said it often enough, it would eventually sink in.
“Elizabeth Ward. But call me Bert—everyone does.”
“Bert?” Meghan frowned.
“I’m the caretaker here.”
“But he told me that he was the caretaker.” Confused, Meghan shot a glance at the man who’d dropped into the chair closest to the fire and stretched out his long legs.
The woman frowned and shook her head. “Cade, what on earth are you up to?”
Meghan glowered at him. Yes, Cade, what are you up to?
“I didn’t tell you I was the caretaker,” he said mildly. “You couldn’t remember the name, so I simply told you what it was. Filled in the blank, so to speak.”
Meghan silently replayed their conversation and realized he was right. Drat the man. But he must have known she’d assume he was Bert and he hadn’t bothered to correct her. “Then who are you?”
“Cade Halloway.”
“Cade Halloway,” she repeated. “But that means—”
The sudden glint in his eyes did nothing to calm the sudden surge in her heart rate as he finished the sentence she couldn’t.
“I’m your boss.”
Meghan stared up at the ceiling, wrapped in a cocoon of butter-soft blankets, and wondered if she could swim to shore before anyone noticed she was missing.
Cade Halloway’s unexpected presence on the island was a glitch she hadn’t been prepared for.
A very attractive glitch.
Meghan ruthlessly pushed the thought aside. Maybe he was attractive but he seemed way too serious and uptight. And he had the same keen, watchful look in his eyes that Caitlin had. The kind that said nothing got past him.
It would make her reconnaissance mission that much harder.
Meghan knew there’d be family members arriving for the wedding, but she’d hoped to have enough time to wander freely around the house and grounds without raising anyone’s suspicions. On the day of the wedding, she’d smile, snap some photos, convince her father there was no Ferris on the premises and go home.
Meghan shifted restlessly and lavender stirred the air. She inhaled deeply and burrowed into the feather mattress. The upstairs room she’d been assigned to, a cozy nook tucked under the slanted eaves, was perfect. Thanks to Bert. There’d been a few uncomfortable moments in the library when Cade Halloway had suggested Meghan spend the night in one of the small cabins located on the other side of the island. Bert insisted on putting her up in the main house.
“The cleaning service hasn’t shown up yet and those cabins are first on the list. They haven’t been aired out in years. Meghan wouldn’t sleep a wink.”
“Oh, I don’t think Miss McBride has trouble falling asleep,” Cade had murmured.
The memory of Cade catching her napping in the boathouse instantly surfaced. But even though Meghan now knew who he was, she refused to be intimidated. So she’d smiled sweetly and agreed with him.
“I’m sure they’re full of mice.” Bert, bless her heart, had tried again.
Cade had shrugged. “Miss McBride seems to like rodents.”
Meghan had choked back a protest while Bert folded her arms across her bright red Wisconsin Badgers sweatshirt.
