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Only You / Jacquie D’Alessandro
For Mary Balogh, for sharing her fabulous idea during our wonderful Levy adventure. And to Stephanie Laurens and Candice Hern, who, along with Mary, made this project so much fun. And as always, to my fantastic, supportive husband, Joe, who stole my heart one magical night. And to my extraordinary son, Christopher, aka Heart Stealer, Junior.
Acknowledgments
My heartfelt thanks to the wonderful people at Levy Home Entertainment, who brought me, Mary, and Candice together: Pam Nelson, Justine Willis, Kathleen Koelbl, Krystal Nelson, Janet Kray, Emily Hixon, and Devar Spight. Thanks also to Susan Andersen, Sue Grimshaw, and to all the people at Avon Books for supporting this project.
Chapter One
“Stop the coach!” Cassandra Heywood, Countess Westmore, demanded, pounding her fist against the carriage ceiling to gain the driver’s attention.
“What’s wrong, milady?” asked Sophie, her maid’s pretty face clouding with concern. “Ye look pale. Are ye unwell?”
The carriage rocked to a halt, and she heard Mr. Watley, the coachman, clamor down from his perch. “I’m…” Panicked. Unsure. Dear God, am I making a terrible mistake? “…feeling a bit unsettled.” A humorless sound caught in her throat at the understatement.
Mr. Watley opened the door, and a blast of cool, sea-scented air swirled into the warm interior. “Somethin’ amiss?”
“Lady Westmore is feelin’ peaked,” Sophie said. “How much further do we have to go?”
“The Blue Seas I
Less than a mile ahead. Cassandra’s gloved fingers tightened their grip on the black gabardine of her mourning gown.
“Perhaps we shouldn’t stop at the i
Precisely the words that had repeatedly circled through her mind since they’d climbed into the coach this morning for the final leg of their arduous three-week journey to Cornwall.
“Gateshead Manor is only another two hours away,” he continued. “I know ye pla
It wasn’t illness knotting her stomach, but she couldn’t deny that it might indeed be best to continue. Coward, her i
“I think…I just need some air,” she murmured. She accepted Mr. Watley’s large, callused hand and exited the carriage. Warm sunshine and cool air fa
Walking several yards away, she peered over the hedges lining the narrow dirt road and drew in a quick, delighted breath at the view. The sparkling wonder of St. Ives Bay greeted her gaze, an expanse of blue that melted into the indigo of the Atlantic glittering on the horizon. Gulls swooped over the sand dunes below, then skimmed over the white-capped waves. Golden ribbons of early afternoon sunshine shimmered over the boats bobbing near the shore, the vessels awaiting men to draw them out to catch pilchards and haul up lobster pots.
Cassandra drew a slow, deep breath and briefly closed her eyes, savoring the hint of salt that scented the summer air. Nostalgia tightened her throat, and for the first time in ten long years, the viselike grip of homesickness for her beloved Cornwall loosened just a bit. Gateshead Manor in Land’s End, the childhood home she hadn’t seen in a decade, was only another two hours away. A place she looked forward to seeing with both anticipation and trepidation. A place saturated in memories, the site of some of her happiest days, and her most heartbreaking.
The place where she’d be forced to come face-to-face with her uncertain future.
Yet no matter how uncertain that future remained, it couldn’t be worse than the past she’d left behind three weeks ago when she’d escaped from the nightmare into which her life had deteriorated.
But should she continue on to Land’s End today? She’d pla
And then the single question that had haunted her during the entire three-week journey whispered through her mind once again: Would he be at the i
She tipped her head back to capture the sun’s warmth and squeezed her eyes shut. There’s only one way to find out, Cassandra.
Opening her eyes, she looked out at the water, and allowed the memories to overtake her. Memories that, after several minutes, dispelled her doubts, making her choice clear. For years decisions had been made for her, regardless of her feelings. This was her chance to find the answers she sought. To finally do what she wanted. What she needed.
God knew when she might have such a chance again.
And what she wanted, needed, was to stop at the Blue Seas I
Would he be there? And if so, would he remember her? A long sigh escaped her. Of course he would remember her. But in what way? With fondness-or indifference? Most likely he hadn’t thought of her in years. He undoubtedly had a wife. Children. A happy, fulfilling life. They’d probably run out of conversation within five minutes.
Yet something inside her insisted that if she allowed this opportunity to pass her by, she’d regret it.
And she’d promised herself no more regrets.
Her decision made, she straightened her spine and walked back to the carriage where Mr. Watley and Sophie awaited her with questioning expressions.
“We shall spend the night at the Blue Seas I
“As ye wish, milady,” said Mr. Watley.
He handed her and Sophie back into the carriage, and they resumed their journey. A quarter hour later the carriage jerked to a halt. Slipping on the mantle of outward calm that for years she’d worn like a second skin, Cassandra once again placed her hand into Mr. Watley’s and stepped from the coach.
Bright sunshine flooded her eyes beneath the short brim of her bo
Two stories of aged stone, mellowed to shades of soft gray, indicated the Blue Seas I
As she looked at those stables, a memory flashed through her mind, so strong, so vivid, it nearly stole her breath. Ethan’s dark eyes smiling down into hers as they shared a joke while currying her chestnut mare, his strong hands sure yet infinitely gentle with the animal.
She blinked away the image, and her gaze shifted to rest on the hand-painted sign swinging gently in the salt-tinged breeze. It depicted a gull gliding over white-capped waters, the bird’s gray-tipped wings reflecting the shimmering sunshine. “Blue Seas I
Her gaze riveted on the name, and she had to grip her fingers together to keep from brushing their tips over the letters.