Dulcie's Gift
A Secret Too Terrible To TellDulcie Trenton had risen from the ashes of war, determined to build a new life for herself. Yet the price of survival was high, and could cost her the love of Cal Jermain, whose honesty was as raw and as real as his passion.Weary and bitter, Cal needed a miracle, and Providence had provided one when Dulcie and her ragtag band of orphans invaded his island, shattering his grief. But could a man who'd knocked at Hell's gate ever hope to hold an angel in his arms?
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Table of Contents
“Trust me, Dulcie,” Cal said softly.
“I want to…” Dulcie began. It was time to admit the truth.
He rested his hand gently along the side of her face, loving the softness of her skin beneath his fingertips. He felt a flicker of hope. He would move slowly, patiently, so as not to frighten her again. “I can help you, Dulcie. Just tell me everything.”
Her body strained toward his, and without realizing it, she lifted her face to him, hungry for the taste of his lips.
He stood very still, staring down into her eyes. But he made no move to kiss her.
She felt a wave of bitter disappointment. She had hoped to be able to lose herself in the mindless pleasure of passion. But he was not offering her passion.
What he was offering was trust.
And she knew with certainty that once he learned the truth he would turn away from her forever….
Bride’s Bay Resoit
Dear Reader,
In this, the last in the Bride’s Bay series for Harlequin, I take you back to the beginning. A country torn apart by bitter civil war. A South caught in the grip of death and destruction. And people, all hiding secrets, desperate to escape the insanity, who find not only purpose in their lives but also a measure of peace, joy and, most of all, love.
traces her ancestry to Scotland and Ireland. It is no surprise, then, that she feels a kinship with the characters in her historical novels.
Married to her childhood sweetheart, she has raised five children and lives in Michigan, the state where she was born and raised.
To Anne Catherine Langan
Our newest blessing.
And her big brother, Tommy.
And her proud parents, Tom and Maureen.
And, of course, to Tom
Always to Tom.
South Carolina
Spring, 1865
The ragged band of women and children broke free of the underbrush and stumbled toward the shore.
Dulcie, the group’s acknowledged leader, spotted a boat and urged the others to climb aboard.
“But it isn’t ours. We can’t steal it,” a solemn, dark-haired little girl challenged.
“We have no choice, Clara. Would you rather go back there?” Dulcie demanded, gathering her close.
“Look, Dulcie. Do you not see the storm?” The speaker was a young woman with hair the color of autumn leaves and a voice tinged with the lilt of Ireland.
“It can’t be helped,” Dulcie replied. Lifting one child on her back and another in her arms, she clambered over the edge and gratefully deposited her burdens on the rough wooden bottom of the boat. “There is nowhere else to go but out to sea. We dare not turn back now.”
One of the older girls clutched the hand of a small boy and tried to back away, terrified by the heavy winds that caused the little craft to rock violently. “I can’t, Dulcie. I’m…so afraid.”
Dulcie’s voice took on a note of command. “Fiona, Nathaniel, help Starlight aboard. There is no time to waste.” Her voice rose above the howling wind. “Remember what awaits us if we should tarry.”
“Aye. Come on, lass.” The Irish woman, bearing the weight of a six-year-old girl on her back, draped an arm around the pitifully frail shoulders of the younger woman and forced her to step into the angry, swirling surf. The little boy clung tightly to Starlight’s other hand.
As soon as all of them had been helped aboard, Dulcie hauled anchor and pressed an oar into the sand. Setting the small craft afloat, she began to row.
“Now that we have escaped, we must make a pact.” To convey the importance of her words, Dulcie deliberately met the wide, frightened stares of each member of the group. “No matter what happens, we must vow never to speak about what transpired back there.”
“Isn’t that the same as lying?” Once again, it was the earnest Clara who questioned their every move.
“That’s just like a girl…” Nathaniel began, but Dulcie shot him a look that silenced him.
“Listen to me, Clara,” Dulcie continued. “Our very lives depend upon secrecy.” At once the children began whimpering, and tears sprang to the eyes of the women. Dulcie’s own lips trembled, but she forced herself to go on. “The danger is not past. Perhaps it never will be. But this much I know. We must never entrust our story to others. Do you understand? Now swear.”
“I swear,” Nathaniel said when Dulcie turned to him.
“And you, Belle?”
The auburn-haired six-year-old nodded.
“Emily?”
Frizzy blond curls bobbed up and down.
“Clara?”
The others held their breath until the somber little girl, who had become the voice of everyone’s conscience, finally nodded in reluctant agreement. “I swear.”
“I swear, as well,” Fiona said.
“And I,” said fifteen-year-old Starlight in hushed tones beside her.
“Good.” Dulcie uncurled her fingers, which had been squeezed into such tight fists the nails had dug into her palms, drawing blood. She glanced around and realized that the shore was no longer visible. The wind and waves had dragged their little craft far out to sea. They were at the mercy of the storm.
