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How would he survive if his Jacey didn’t need him anymore after this inspiring exchange?
He wouldn’t survive when she left him.
Chapter
Seventeen
Jacey was surrounded by Cade. His strong arms lifting her and pressing her ever closer to his well-built body. His lips lighting up the dark night, pushing away the shadows of doubt and fear, giving her hope for a bright future and a love that would never dim or be damaged by pain and manipulation.
She needed her cowboy in her life, protecting her, lifting her, kissing her, loving her. Nobody would ever equal him. She’d never want, need, or love somebody like she did Cade. She would choose him with or without her memories. She wanted to show him that with her kiss.
The kisses grew in intensity. Their mouths worked in synchrony, an intricate dance of love and devotion. He needed her. He chose her. He might even love her.
She pulled back slightly, let out a happy cry that made him grin, then pressed her lips to his again.
Cade was still smiling against her lips, but then he gave his all to this beautiful exchange. She savored each touch of his lips and his hands, the feeling of his strength protecting and inspiring her. She could only pray he would never push her away and she would never get her memory back. Was that wrong?
She couldn’t bring herself to worry. She had Cade’s arms around her and his lips lit up her world. She had never been this happy. Even without her memories, she knew that.
Suddenly Cade pulled back, his eyes full of concern. “Sweetheart,” he breathed out, gently cradling her face with his hands. “I shouldn’t?—”
“Don’t,” she warned. If he told her he shouldn’t have kissed her, it would destroy her. All she needed was him and apparently he … shouldn’t. Who knew what that meant, but she couldn’t think of any ending to that sentence that meant he was as affected by their kisses as she was and would never let her go, never let anything come between them.
Luckily, he did not express the thought. He studied her, the concern in his gaze growing by the moment.
Jacey knew he was going to tell her he had to protect her but not love her, that her brother trusted him or something else along those lines. She couldn’t hear that from his lips. Those lips that had kissed her so beautifully and thoroughly. Putting a hand to her mouth, she whimpered. His gaze instantly became full of yearning, but she knew he wouldn’t let down his guard. Not again.
Spinning, she rushed away from him and up the steps. She closed the master door behind her and sank to the floor. Leaning against it, she let the tears come. She was alone, unloved, and unwanted. Cade was here to shelter her but not to love her. She’d cajoled him into kissing her in the first place. He’d even tried to talk her out of it, saying she wouldn’t want a ‘simple cowboy’ once she had her memories back. She’d arched up and kissed him, taken his choice away. The fact that he responded was most likely physical instinct, nothing to do with wanting her.
Time passed. She had no clue how long. She heard him come up the stairs and shut the door. She said a quiet prayer for help and strength and felt marginally better.
Then she realized. Help and strength. She was leaning on Cade and not helping herself. She didn’t want her memories back, but it was past time she stopped being a wimp and faced her past. If she’d lived with the witch for years, maybe she had insight that would help Quaid catch her, something that could protect Quaid and his bride Anna, something in her brain that could protect Cade as well. Maybe it wouldn’t work, but she needed to stop cowering behind Cade in this beautiful valley. If she got her memories back, she might have to leave and that was probably for the best. For Cade, at least.
Standing, she wiped the tears away and slipped out her door. It was all dark. She slipped across the hall and into the door on the right. Cade’s study. His computer was on his desk. He’d told her that his internet was slow, with an old-school router, but she’d seen him use the computer and the internet.
She sank into the chair and stared dully at the darkened computer. With a click of the mouse it lit up. Surprisingly it was only ten-thirteen p.m. It felt like the past hour had been a lifetime.
She clicked on the Safari icon and her fingers stilled on the computer. She said a prayer for strength and typed in ‘Jacqueline Oliver’. The internet may have been slow, but it was only a matter of seconds until the screen was filled with the most searched articles about her. All the top magazines and newspapers had featured her. Pictures of her in formal gowns accompanied some articles. Cade had alluded to how famous she was, but it was stunning to see herself displayed like she was royalty. She felt detached from that woman. A different lifetime she couldn’t recall.
There was a picture of her on a regal horse. A man stood by the horse. A distinguished and dapper-looking man. He looked serious and almost sad, though he smiled for the picture and appeared proud of her.
She studied him. Then she gasped. “Dad,” she whispered. That was her father. Was he a good man or her mother’s minion? Memories came of him being there for her, protecting her. They were still elusive, not quite solid, but not vapor like before. Her dad. He’d protected her. The story Quaid had shared was suddenly real, and not a story. She’d known her mother’s men were going to torture and possibly kill her brother, so she’d shimmied through their legs, yelled at them, and dug her fingernails into one of their arms. The man’s gaze had been murderous and though Quaid reached for her, he wouldn’t have been able to stop him. Her dad had come for her, commanded the men to stop. He’d rescued her. Many times.
She swallowed. The memory was both horrifying and enlightening. Fingers trembling, she forced herself to click on the images button. More photos of her filled the page. She saw her brother Quaid and Anna. They were darling together. That made her smile.
Quaid. She could see him so clearly as a boy. As Thomas. The boy who always fought for her, loved her, held her when she was scared. She’d fought for him too.
Then she saw her sister. Elizabeth. Her sister felt a lot like her dad—protective, caring, but maybe she was only playing a role?
“Lizzy,” she said. That felt right. Her sister was Lizzy to her. Her sister cared for her. Lizzy had been there for her as much as she could, but nobody could stop their mother. Lizzy couldn’t be evil like their mother.
Her eyes searched, almost against her will. Then she saw her.
Catherine Oliver. Her mother was gorgeous, but she’d taken plastic surgery and Botox and fillers and plumpers too far. She was inhuman. As Jacey studied that face, those cold blue eyes, the smiling lips, the façade that hid a monster, a witch, all the memories rushed back.
A deluge of misery.
Jacey and Thomas had found a kitten out in the garden. They’d snuck it milk and whatever food they could find. Mother suddenly appeared while they were playing with the kitten. You do nothing without my permission, she’d hissed. She’d gestured, one of her men grabbed the kitten, and …
