fumbled with the canister, but it slipped through her grasp and tumbled down the steps. Then she lost her footing, as well. Arms swinging, she began to fall backward just as that shadow reached toward her.
She must have screamed herself out earlier because even though she opened her mouth, no sound emanated from her hoarse throat. She could only gasp as she fell.
From the bottom of the stairs, River saw it happening—saw her falling. He saw the dark shadow at the top of the stairs, saw it reaching for her. Or pushing her?
He rushed forward, but before he could catch her, the woman’s hand closed around the railing and she steadied herself. But he wrapped his arm around her small waist and pulled her aside, stepping between her and that threatening shadow.
She clutched at him as she tried to find her footing on the steps again. She wasn’t going to fall, though. He had her in his one arm while he swung his other toward that shadow.
Just before his fist connected, the other man stepped into the light. And River jerked his arm back, exclaiming, “Mac! What the hell are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” Mac replied. “That damn horse came back without you. I thought it threw you. That you might be hurt.” His dark gaze skimmed over River. “But you look fine. What are you doing here?”
“I was out riding—”
“Not you,” Mac said. He gestured behind River. “What are you doing here, Edith? When I was looking for him, I noticed your car parked out front by the fountain.”
The woman tugged free of River’s grip and leaned around him. “Hi, Uncle Mac.”
And now River realized why she looked so familiar. He’d seen pictures of her in Mac’s house. Of course, she’d been younger then—much younger. Just a little girl with thick braids and her front teeth missing. She’d certainly grown up since those old photos.
She must have been at Thorne’s wedding, though, since they were cousins. River had made himself scarce at the ceremony. He hadn’t stood in the receiving line, and he’d skipped the reception. He hadn’t wanted to draw any attention away from the bride and groom. And since he’d been back, people tended to stare at him. And ask intrusive questions about what had happened.
He didn’t want to think about what had happened, let alone talk about it.
“What are you doing here?” Mac asked his niece again.
“I—I stopped by the ranch earlier,” Edith replied. “But you weren’t there.”
“I was out with Evelyn,” Mac said. “But that doesn’t answer my question. What are you doing here—at La Bonne Vie?”
“You don’t know?” River asked. He knew Mac wasn’t particularly close to his niece; he had lost touch with her for years and felt bad about it. But River thought they’d reconnected during those ten years he’d been gone. Mac had written about her in some of the letters he’d sent River.
“No,” Mac said, and a muscle twitched along his tightly clenched jaw. “Edith, what are you doing here?”
“I told you I’m moving out of New Orleans, that I’m moving to Texas.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “But you didn’t tell me you were going to move here, to La Bonne Vie.”
She shook her head, and her long hair bounced around her bare shoulders. She stood so close to River on the stairs that a few tendrils brushed across his cheek. It was so soft—so silky. “I’m not going to stay here. Not for long, anyway, just until...”
“Until what?” Mac asked. “What business do you have with La Bonne Vie?”
River turned toward her now, studying her beautiful face as she stared up at her uncle. “The business I work for—it bought the estate. My job is to get it ready.”
“Ready for what?” Mac asked. “Ready for who? I don’t even know who you work for.”
Hearing the pain in the other man’s voice, River turned toward him now. He felt as if he were intruding on a family moment. He’d often felt like that in his own home, though. In this home. But it had never really felt like home. Not when he’d been growing up here and certainly not now.
“This isn’t the time or the place to discuss this,” Edith said, and there was a coolness in her voice now that was nearly as chilly as the damp air in the basement.
“Why not?” Mac asked. “Your company owns this place now, right?”
“The company I work for,” Edith said. “Not me.”
“We’re trespassing,” River said. “At least that’s what she told me when I came inside here to see why she was screaming.”
Mac hurried down a few steps and reached out toward his niece, like he had been earlier. “You were screaming? Why? What happened?”
She shook her head. “It was nothing...”
“She spooked my horse,” River said.
“I—I thought I saw something—someone inside.” Her fingers skimmed over River’s arm. “Did you find anyone? Anything?”
He shook his head. Of course he hadn’t had time to do a thorough search. He’d heard the footsteps overhead—had heard the basement door creak open, and he’d rushed back to make sure she was safe, just as she’d been about to fall. “I didn’t see anything. But even with the power on, most of the lights are out down here. I couldn’t search thoroughly tonight. I can come back in the morning.”
“You’re not staying here,” Mac told Edith.
“Of course not,” she agreed. “I have a room booked at the local B and B.”
“Why?” Mac asked. “Why would you stay there and not with me?”
She uttered a soft sigh that River felt brush across his cheek. “I didn’t want to invite myself.”
“You’re family.” Mac turned around and headed up the stairs. “Come on, you two, let’s head back to the ranch.”
Edith clutched River’s arm now, tugging him back around to her. “You’re staying there?”
He’d had no place else to go.
“Of course,” Mac answered for him before he had the chance. “He’s family, too.” Only Thorne was his son. But Mac was the only father figure any of the Coltons had ever really known. Even before finding out Wes Kingston wasn’t his dad, River had never been close to the man—not like he was with Mac.
But Mac wasn’t really his father. He needed to find out who was. If the secret was anywhere, it was probably inside this house—in one of Livia’s hidden lairs.
“Why don’t you ride back with Edith,” River suggested to Mac, “and I’ll
