Safe In His Arms. Christine Scott

hand passed her by, studying her curiously, reminding her that she hadn’t moved. She descended the stone steps. The truth was that little by little she was uncovering a mystery. But the more she learned, the more uneasy she became.

      As she strode across the square, she recounted her meeting yesterday on the highway with Samuel Conners. He’d seemed polite, almost friendly and ready to help her…until she’d told him that she was staying at Gull’s Cottage. When she’d told him her name, he’d left abruptly, abandoning her without a word of explanation.

      On shaking legs she crossed the street to the parking lot, ignoring the glances of passersby. At first she’d attributed Samuel’s actions to rudeness. Now she believed recognition had played a role in his behavior. It would certainly explain his reaction to her identity—he’d been shocked.

      Distractedly she unlocked the door of her car. Climbing inside, she started the engine and pulled out of the lot, not exactly sure where she was going. Then, as though the car had a mind of its own, she found herself searching the island for the address listed in the phone book.

      Eventually she found Samuel’s house on the outskirts of town, near the docks. She slowed her car to a stop, her curiosity getting the better of her. It was an older home, but well taken care of. It was painted a creamy yellow, with dark-green shutters. Bright, multi-colored flowers spilled out of the window boxes lining the front of the house. A rustic brick walkway led to the door.

      The familiar red truck parked in the driveway surprised her. It was still early, barely twelve o’clock, the workday only half over.

      There were no other signs of life. No car, no swing set, no bicycles, nothing to indicate anyone else was around. She wondered if he lived alone.

      Suddenly the front door swung open, and Samuel Conners stepped outside. He stood on the front porch, glancing at the street. When he spotted her car, a stormy expression crossed his handsome face. Before she realized what was happening, he strode angrily toward her car, making short work of the distance between them.

      His face dark with fury, he placed both hands on the frame of her window, blocking her escape. With a harshness that sent a chill down her spine, he snarled, “What the hell do you want, Jessie Pierce? Why did you have to come back to Prudence Island?”

      Samuel had had enough. One chance encounter was unavoidable. He’d even believed that twice was a mere coincidence. But three times in less than twenty-four hours was more than any man could accept.

      The woman was following him…and he was determined to find out why.

      Jessie stared at him, her mouth dropping open. She looked scared, rightfully so. He supposed he appeared a little wild and dangerous. He certainly felt on the verge of losing control.

      But he would never hurt a woman….

      Not that she would know that.

      Samuel’s gaze remained hard, unwavering. Just what did she know? That was the million-dollar question, wasn’t it? Everyone from the sheriff to the prosecutor to the defense attorneys had wanted to know exactly what young Jessie had seen the night her mother had died.

      But no one had been able to discover the answer.

      Unwanted memories flashed in his mind. He’d been ten years old when it had all happened. She couldn’t have been more than four or five. Too shocked and upset, in the end, for anyone to press for her testimony. Protected by her family’s wealth and standing in the community, she had disappeared from Prudence Island, leaving unanswered questions and more pain than she could have imagined.

      Now she was back.

      “What are you doing here?” he demanded, as the bitterness of his past threatened to overwhelm him.

      “I found the article,” she whispered, her voice so quiet he could barely hear her. She had the scared, petrified look of a cornered animal. Shrinking back against the seat, she leaned away from him, away from his anger. “The newspaper, the picture of the man who murdered my mother. I know it couldn’t have been you, but it was your name, your picture….”

      The words fell like a blow against his chest, knocking the breath from his lungs. Samuel bore the name and the face of his father. It had been his burden in life. He stepped away from the car, feeling sickened by this unwanted invasion from the past.

      Resignation stole the heat from his anger. Still unable to accept the final verdict, he backed away from the car. “Samuel Conners was my father. He was a kind, gentle man. He couldn’t have done anything so vile, so brutal. He died for a crime he didn’t commit.” He pointed a finger at Jessie, not caring that his hand shook. Or that his voice was nearly choked by a lump of overwhelming emotion. “If anyone should know that, it’s you, Jessie Pierce.”

      With that he turned on his heel and strode back to the blessed sanctuary of his house.