Free Her Christmas Protector by Terri Reed Page A

revealing the little girl that used to follow him around.
    “But I love you, Luke.”
    He ran a hand over his face. He hated to hurt her, but he figured being brutally honest was the only way to get through to her. “I don’t love you. Not like a man loves a woman he wants to marry.”
    She closed her eyes for a moment and when she opened them rage shone in the gray depths. “It’s because of her, isn’t it?”
    He didn’t have to guess who she meant. He had come to care for Faith, but her presence didn’t change his feelings for Reva. “No. This has nothing to do with anyone but me. I don’t love you. I never will. Now, I think it’s time for you to go home.”
    Reva rose, and without another word, she stalked from the house.
    Luke turned off the downstairs lights and then went upstairs. Faith was waiting for him in the hall. She still wore the black pants and white blouse she’d worn to dinner, but she’d released her blond hair from the rubber band that had held it back earlier. She looked so appealing in the muted light of the hall.
    “She’s pretty upset,” she commented.
    Her anxious expression pulled at Luke. “I know. Reva and I needed to have that talk. I should have done it a long time ago. I doubt she’ll be back.”
    There was understanding in her eyes that made the harshness of what he’d done bearable.
    “It’s hard to say words that you know are going to hurt someone,” she said.
    “Yes. It is.” He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “It’s late. You should be in bed.”
    “I’m a little too keyed up to sleep, yet. I thought I’d make some tea. Would you care for some?”
    He too was keyed up. “That would be great.”
    They headed back down to the kitchen. Faith put on the kettle and took two mugs from the cupboard. “Herbal?”
    “Whatever you’re having is fine.”
    She stuck a tea bag of his mother’s favorite chamomile in each cup. They waited for the water to boil.
    “Faith, tell me about your family.”
    Tilting her head to one side, she considered him for a moment. “What would you like to know?”
    He wanted to know about her marriage. Did she still love her ex-husband? But he couldn’t put voice to the question. Instead, he shrugged as she handed him a mug. “Start with your parents.”
    Taking a seat, she placed her steaming mug on the table and ran her finger over the rim. “My parents were—eccentric. Father loved to take pictures of everything he saw, and Mother loved to write about everything she saw. They made a good team. My grandparents thought their lifestyle was—well—that it was scandalous that they chose to spend their lives running around the world, sharing their experiences through pictures and articles. Grandfather wanted Father to take over for him. But Father would always say he had no head for business.”
    “Did they publish their work?”
    “Oh, yes. In several of Grandfather’s travel magazines. But they did it mostly for their own enjoyment.”
    “Your grandfather was a publisher?” She’d said a great deal of money, he just hadn’t realized the scale she was talking about.
    “Among other things. He always said media had the pulse of the nation. He’d started out with just a newspaper when he was a young man. He slowly worked his way to running half the newspapers, radio stations and television stations across the country.”
    “He was very powerful.” And with that power came pressure. The pressure she was running from. He was beginning to get a clearer picture.
    Faith nodded. “For a time.”
    “What happened?”
    “Grandmother said that he slowly lost interest. His health began to slip and he didn’t have Father’s interest so he began selling his assets.” She scoffed. “He was old school and didn’t believe women could run multimillion-dollar corporations.”
    “So where did you fit in?”
    She gave a small laugh. “When I was very small I went with my parents everywhere. I don’t remember it too much, but I