Free To Have & to Hold by Mackenzie Lucas Page B

me.
    “Grayson instructed me to draft the letter he sent to you about the baby. I ’ m sorry. I didn ’ t think you ’ d keep it a secret. He surely didn ’ t.”
    Liar.
    The skin on her neck itched. “Wait, what? I don ’ t understand. You wrote the letter?”
    Michael sat on the bed. Lifted one leg onto the counterpane and propped himself against the headboar d, watching her. “Guilty. Yes, s weet Cate . It was the hardest thing I ’ ve ever done. I wanted to find you. Tell you it would be okay. I ’ ll take care of you. Divorce the rat. Marry me, instead. I ’ ll b e a good father to your child.”
    Over my dead body. Do not listen to him. He lies.
    S omeone shoot her now. She was having a virtual conversa tion with her husband who was an ocean away. Pathetic how her mind created such a fanciful pastime in absence of the real thing.
    I am the real thing. I ’ ll be there shortly. Hold on. And for God ’ s sake, don ’ t drink the champagne. He ’ s drugged it. Like he did last time.
    Last time? On the boat? Yes, she ’ d fallen asleep without any memory of what had happened for several hours only to find herself locked b elow deck and her husband wounded in a sinking yacht . She ’ d assumed Grayson had drugged her to pull off some kind of elaborate embezzlement scheme that had gone horribly wrong. If it had been Michael, then why?
    “Michael, I can ’ t marry you.”
    “No, not when you ’ re still married to Grayson. But we can fix that problem. Easily.”
    “I don ’ t want to fix that problem.”
    Atta girl!
    Hush.
    “Drink the damned champagne, Cate ,” Michael commanded, his voice a threatening growl. He looked manic. His eyes glowed feverish in his flushed face. He twitched, humming with an erratic energy, while he watched her every movement. He grew a little more tense with each second that ticked away.
    To place as much distance as possible between them, s he sat in the white armchai r in the corner . She lifted the glass to her lips, pretending to take a sip, then lowered it. “ Mmmm . That ’ s good.” She placed the glass on a nearby white wicker table.
    He relaxed against the headboard again.
    “Michael, I don ’ t think you understand. I ’ ve taken sacred vows.”
    Why would Michael want to hurt her or Grayson for that matter?
    He wants you and your money. Always has.
    She was getting damned tired of the whispered conversation taking place in her head.
    “If your vows are so sacred, why are you living in the middle of nowhere, separated from your husband? I ’ d say you ’ ve already given up on your marriage.”
    That ’ s kind of the way she felt, too. But she ’ d never admit it to Michael. “Family emergency. I had to come. My grandfather ’ s estate needed attention and I decided to take a prolonged holiday because I didn ’ t feel well.”
    Michael dra nk from his flute, but the liquid didn ’ t lower in his glass either. Hmmm. Interesting. She played with the stem of her glass and wondered if Grayson would come to her rescue.
    Count on it.
    There wasn ’ t much she could count on these days. Michael did show up unannounced in her bedroom. Which was crazy in itself.
    Your bedroom? Get the hell out of there. Now.
    Cate shifted in her seat, ready to stand. Why the hell was she listening to the whispered warnings of her imagination? She ’ d gone over the edge.
    She couldn ’ t help searching for the truth in Michael ’ s face. And there it was. His eyes had turned wary, like an animal about to strike.
    “Drink up. Shouldn ’ t be long now before you begin to feel more relaxed.” A self-satisfied smile crossed his face. He almost purred.
    The bastard had drugged her champagne.
    “Michael, I can ’ t. It ’ s not good for the baby.”
    In normal circumstances, a drink or two wouldn ’ t hurt. But she didn ’ t want to drink. Especially if there was even a remote chance that Michael had drugged her a year ago and was trying the same thing again. But why?