An Heiress to Remember (The Gilded Age Girls Club #3) - Maya Rodale Page 0,76

for this man who had once upon a time wanted to destroy her and was now helping her scrub rude words off the walls, even after their lovemaking had been interrupted.

The thought of love made her forget, for a second, that she was supposed to be scared.

“Too many people want to scare me off,” she said. “Pity it won’t work.”

“They’ll keep trying until it does,” he said. Then he reached for her hand. “Let me protect you.”

She laughed, and the sound echoed in the hall.

“Stay with me,” he persisted. “You’ll be safe at my home instead of vulnerable at your town house, where it’s just you and your mother.”

“For one thing, my mother is a dragon. For another, we have servants and locks, too.”

“I’ll escort you to and from the store each day, then.”

“What? No! Good God, Dalton. I’m a grown woman, a divorcée. I don’t need a chaperone.”

She started to walk away, toward the exit.

“You need someone to protect you.”

“If that were true, I would hire someone. I would hire a band of lady pirates to surround me with pistols, swords, and devastating wit.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Is it? But I know some already.”

“Beatrice, let’s be serious. Let’s be reasonable.”

Oh, that was not to be borne. Beatrice stopped suddenly and whirled around to face him.

“Are you going to tell me to be calm next? Because you are saying the most offensive, ridiculous things a man could say to a woman. Be serious. Be reasonable. Be calm. As if I’m ridiculous, foolish, and hysterical. Is that what you think of me, Dalton?”

“No. You’re the smartest, fiercest woman I know. But you are also being foolish and stubborn about this. Someone has been attacking you and your store and everything you represent. That only spells danger and I need you to be safe. Because I’m falling in love with you, Beatrice. All over again.”

“Don’t do this. Don’t make love feel like a cage.”

Chapter Thirty

Dalton’s Department Store

The next day

Dalton’s, the department store, had an exquisite offering of fine jewelry on display and available for purchase. Dalton, the man, was considering it.

“Why are you looking at the diamond rings?” Connor asked warily.

“Well, I’m either going to start a new trend of men wearing diamond rings or I’m about to propose. One of the two. I’ll let you guess.”

Connor gave a low whistle. “That’s one way of winning her store.”

Dalton stilled. He had moved so far beyond his old ideas of revenge and ownership and destruction; he hadn’t realized no one else knew the transformation that had taken place in his head and heart. He had one thought and one thought only: keeping Beatrice safe.

Hence this diamond ring that would declare to one and all that she was a woman with all his power at her back. This ring held the promise of nights in his bed, where he could make love to her and know that she was safe, breathing softly and sleeping peacefully beside him.

With this ring, they would no longer be enemies, or lovers only by night. With this ring they could belong to each other and he would succeed at this feeling he’d been chasing all these years.

“This is not about revenge at all,” he said. “I no longer want Goodwin’s, the store.”

“Really. No more revenge? No more competition? Our mad quest for the past sixteen years is over?” Connor was skeptical, which was understandable, maybe even angry. Dalton hadn’t been around as much recently (because Beatrice) and hadn’t been sharing the intimate personal details of his romance (because Beatrice). But Beatrice would understand, wouldn’t she?

“Really and truly,” Dalton replied. “I want no part of her store. I only want to be with her.”

Goodwin’s Department Store

An hour later

Beatrice was concluding her interview with Detective Hyde about the string of unusual, ahem, activity that had been plaguing the store. There was a myriad of petty intrusions: broken lock on the staff door, the toys in the children’s department strewn about the room, men’s ties wrapped around the mouths of female mannequins. There was also the matter of the smashed mirrors, the trashed reading room, and those awful words painted across her office door last night, which Beatrice was informing the detective about. She’d been working late. She let the detective assume she was alone.

Detective Hyde was taking notes, her lips pressed in a firm line of disapproval. She would find who was behind this vandalism and she would bring the full force of the law down on him. She was so self-assured that Beatrice