face was solemn and certain.
“Because she killed my mommy and hurt me an’ Amy.”
Cade’s dark gaze streaked to hers and she felt the impact as she saw him close his mind to her. She couldn’t speak a word in her defense because she was strangling and couldn’t get a full breath. It was as if the air had suddenly been sucked from the room.
And then the room began to move. Dizziness made it difficult to stand with just the support of the cane, so she put out her free hand—her weaker right hand—to the wall to keep herself upright.
Cade said something then to the woman, but Colleen’s ears were suddenly filled with a roaring sound. He set Beau on his feet. The moment he did, Beau ran out of the foyer through the passage opposite the one she stood next to. The woman walked past her silently with little Amy, but Colleen was too dazed, too horrified to move.
She killed my mommy and hurt me an’ Amy.
The terrible words and the frightened look on Beau’s face shook her and made her doubt her sanity. Somehow she’d fallen into some strange nightmare. A strange, horrible nightmare.
She felt her knees begin to give way, but the gray haze that suddenly blanketed her vision and went black kept her from knowing whether she hit the cool hard tile of the entry hall or not.
CHAPTER TWO
COLLEEN awoke alone in a dim, cool bedroom. A light blanket covered her from chin to ankle. Her head was pounding and the ringing in her ears made her feel nauseous.
And then it all came back to her. Little Amy and Beau, so beautiful. At last she could see them, was inches from touching them, kissing their sweet cheeks and hugging them to her heart.
But then the fright in Beau’s face and the horrid words, She killed my mommy and hurt me an’ Amy.
Colleen rolled painfully to her side and curled up stiffly against the agony.
…and hurt me an’ Amy.
The words beat at her brain and pummeled her heart. She’d not harmed a hair on either child. Ever. She couldn’t fathom the accusation, but the look in Beau’s eyes as he’d said it was utterly sincere. Beau believed it completely. And from the look on Cade’s face, he’d believed it, too. Oh, God!
Suddenly she felt profoundly and urgently sick. She wrestled weakly with the blanket and got free. Making her way to the private bath was a larger challenge. She couldn’t find her cane, she was almost too weak and uncoordinated to walk, but she was desperate not to be sick before she could make her way from one piece of furniture to another and reach the bathroom.
The door to the hall opened, but she was so focused on getting to the bathroom in time that she was only marginally aware of it. She gasped when big hands closed around her waist and Cade’s big body pressed against hers. He had her in the bathroom in an instant, sitting her carefully on the edge of the bathtub before he flipped on the light.
“Are you sick?”
His big voice was low and gruff, but he lifted the lid and seat of the commode to accommodate her.
Her panted, “Yes—please leave,” was slurred.
“The doctor’s on his way,” he told her and she felt his big hand settle gently on her shoulder. “Forget about me and get it over with.”
Her desperate, “No—leave!” was all she could get out before she was violently ill.
Through every mortifying moment, Cade Chalmers steadied her. Until the sickness was gone and she was limp with cold tears running down her cheeks.
Shame burned over her body and made her skin feel on fire. A cool wet washcloth moved gently and competently over her face. She was too weak and demoralized to resist as Cade helped her to the sink and guided her through a brief routine with a new toothbrush he’d loaded with gel toothpaste.
When she’d recovered and finished freshening up, the quiet consideration Cade had demonstrated—the persistently gentle way he’d taken care of her—made an impression that went so deep in her soul that her heart ached.
The most painful and trying times of her life, especially after the accident, she’d endured alone. The solitary circumstances of her life meant that once she was released from the hospital, she’d truly been on her own. She had neighbors and friends who sometimes ran errands and looked in on her, but never anyone who stayed and took care of her. Never anyone to relieve the loneliness and despair of long, gray days and painful, restless nights.
After what Beau had said, Cade must loathe the very sight of her. It said something admirable about his character that he was capable of treating her humanely, even though he must despise her.
She could barely stand and leaned heavily against the counter by the sink, her hands braced on the smooth surface.
“I never hurt them, Cade,” she got out, unable to stop the tears, though she did her best to keep the sobs quiet.
“Something’s wrong here,” he growled. “Let’s get you back to bed and we’ll figure it out later.”
He eased her away from the counter and leaned close so he could keep his arm around her waist and gently grip her left arm to support most of her weight.
“I caught you when you fainted and carried you in here, but will I hurt you if I pick you up now?”
“I can walk.”
He stopped them both. “That’s no answer.”
And then he released her arm and bent down to carefully pick her up. The sound of distress she made caused him to hesitate, as if he was afraid he’d hurt her.
“Let me walk. Please.”
But Cade must have decided that picking her up could be done without hurting her because he lifted her into his arms and held her securely against him. She looked up into his face to discern the reason for his calm kindnesses, but his expression was solemn and hard, though his dark eyes were surprisingly gentle.
His gaze shifted from hers and he started for the bedroom and the bed. He set her on the edge of the mattress, then reached behind her to get the blanket that was bunched and twisted.
“Go ahead and lie back.”
Colleen shook her head. “I’d like to sit up.”
Cade showed a trace of impatience as he straightened.
Her soft, “I’m fine now,” was a lie, but she was ashamed to let him treat her with such care when it was probably the last thing he might want to do.
He opened the blanket and wrapped it warmly around her. Then he moved away from the bed to drag a nearby wing chair closer. Without asking, he bundled her onto it. Colleen sank back, grateful for the cocooning feel of the big chair.
Cade straightened, but his dark gaze never left hers. Colleen flinched from his scrutiny.
“I’m sorry for the trouble. I’ll be fine in a while, then
