His Heir, Her Secret. Janice Maynard

think Cate would be a fan.”

      “How would you know what I like?” she snapped.

      He lifted one supercilious eyebrow. “A sheep’s heart, lungs and liver? Chopped up and mixed with onion and oatmeal and all manner of other ingredients...then boiled in the sheep’s stomach? Really, Cate? We may not know each other all that well, but you surprise me.”

      Bile rose in her throat. Her belly heaved in distress. “Oh. Well, no. I suppose not. Sounds revolting.”

      Duncan took pity on her and changed the subject. The shift gave her a few minutes to breathe and get herself under control. Brody, damn his sorry black-hearted hide, smirked as if he had bested her somehow. Not a chance. Not a damned chance in the world.

      While they waited on the main course, Isobel finally grimaced. “Well, lass, here it is. The boys want me to sell out and go back to Scotland. I’ve let them know unequivocally that I’m not going to do that.”

      “Oh?” Cate felt as if she were treading a minefield. Neither Duncan nor Brody seemed in any way lighthearted or even at ease about this conversation. Was this some kind of trap for Cate? Did Miss Izzy need Cate to cast a deciding vote?

      Isobel nodded, although Cate hadn’t really said anything. “I offered a compromise. One the boys believe has merit.”

      “And that is?”

      Izzy smiled gently. “I’d like you to consider moving in here with me as my paid companion. I wouldn’t take you away from the bookstore, of course. Your wonderful shop is part of the charm of Candlewick. But my grandsons would feel better knowing that someone was officially looking after me.”

      “I already do that anyway.” Cate frowned. “I care about you, Miss Izzy. And I’m happy to consider moving up here on the mountain with you, but I won’t take any money. That’s unacceptable.”

      Brody, the man whose flashing smile was the first thing she had noticed about him months ago, seemed to do nothing but frown at her now. His black scowl pinned her to her chair. “Try not to be difficult, Cate. Granny isn’t a charity case. She can afford to pay for in-home help.”

      Cate was generally even-tempered, but Brody’s condescending attitude nicked her on the raw. “Isobel is my friend,” she said. “It seems to me this is an issue she and I can negotiate on our own. Or perhaps you and Duncan think I’ll make the house too crowded.”

      “Oh, no,” Izzy said. “The boys are leaving.”

      “Leaving?” Cate’s tongue felt thick in her mouth. Her stomach clenched. “When?”

      Duncan picked up the conversational ball, since his brother was sitting silent and stone-faced with his arms crossed over his chest. “Our tickets are open-ended, but probably in a couple of days. Granny has made up her mind. Since we won’t be dealing with real estate issues, we’ll head on home and probably make another visit later...in the summer, no doubt.”

      Cate’s skin was clammy and cold, though she felt feverish and overheated from the inside out. Brody was leaving. Dear Lord. What was she going to do? She had to tell him. Or did she?

      Perspiration dotted her upper lip. Black spots danced in front of her eyes. “Excuse me,” she said. “I’ll be back in a moment.” She stood up, deathly ill, desperate to make it to the restroom before she broke down in tears.

      Humiliation and rage and sheer distress tore her in a dozen directions. Is this what hyperventilation felt like? Nausea rolled through her belly. Not once in her shocking pregnancy had she experienced more than mild discomfort. Now, at the worst possible moment, puking her guts out was a very real possibility.

      As she lurched to her feet, her chair wobbled and almost overturned. She grabbed for something, anything. With one hand she gripped the wooden edge of the seat back. With the other, she reached blindly for the table.

      “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t feel well.”

      She took a step toward the hallway. Her legs buckled. She heard a trio of shouts. Then her world went black.