Because We Belong

onto his forehead when he’d raked his hand through it. She returned his smile with effort.

“What’s the trip have to do with why you wanted to speak with me?”

He leaned forward, his thighs parting slightly, his elbows on his knees. His sleeves fell back, revealing strong forearms sprinkled with dark hair.

“It’s just . . . well, do you really think it’s a good idea? To go to Ian’s childhood home, with the state of things between you two being what they are?”

Her smile fell. She blinked past her shock at his words. “I honestly hadn’t thought of that. I was thinking of it being a getaway . . . a change of scenery. But of course you’re right. Belford Hall was Ian’s home. It will be again, someday.”

“Francesca,” Gerard began hesitantly. His face suddenly tightened in frustration and he hissed something she couldn’t quite catch beneath his breath. “What exactly is the state of things?” he asked in a pressured rush.

“The state of things?” she repeated stupidly.

“Between you and Ian,” he clarified. She just stared. “Have you officially broken your engagement?”

“How could I possibly do that, when I haven’t spoken to him in over six months?”

His head went back in sudden understanding. “So it’s not officially off. He didn’t . . . say anything?”

“Before he disappeared?” She heard the edge to her tone and inhaled, trying to calm herself. She felt very thin-skinned for some reason, exposed and vulnerable. Gerard didn’t deserve her anger. He was just asking what Anne, James, and he had probably been burning to know all along. “No,” she replied more calmly. “One day, Ian and I were happy and looking forward to our marriage. The next, Ian’s mother was dying and everything changed.”

Gerard nodded slowly. “It wasn’t just Helen’s death, though, was it? It was this business Lucien revealed to him, about being his brother,” he said, his brow furrowed in concentration.

She just nodded, feeling uncomfortable at her lack of awareness of just how much Anne and James had told Gerard about Ian. It struck her that both of them were poking around in the dark for morsels of information.

“Lucien seems like a very smart, decent guy,” Gerard said. “I’m a little confused as to why it was so upsetting to Ian to discover he was his half brother. I feel as if I’m missing something there. Is it something to do with their father?”

Francesca’s expression remained impassive. So, Anne and James hadn’t revealed the toxic truth about Trevor Gaines to Gerard.

“There is more to the story, but it’s Ian’s story to tell. I hope you can understand my not talking about it. I’m sorry, Gerard.”

“Do you think I’m not used to being odd man out when it comes to my family?” he asked drolly, but then noticed her confusion. “Anne and James have said much the same to me in regard to Ian. I understand, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy about it. I don’t appreciate being left in the dark. Ian isn’t only my cousin. My house is less than fifteen miles from Belford. I spent a great deal of time with Ian, when I was a young man and he was a boy. Both of us found ourselves parentless at approximately the same time. I feel like an older brother to him,” he said, frowning. She could feel his mind working as he studied her face. “So you’re still looking out for Ian? Protecting his secrets, even in these circumstances?”

She stiffened, her compassion for him fading. “It’s a common courtesy, Gerard.”

He made a conciliatory gesture with his hand, but she could tell his mind was already fastened on a different topic. “We’re all worried about his state of mind. I’m sure you are as well. I’m concerned for Ian, of course, but I’m also very worried about James and Anne. It’s like they’re living the nightmare of Helen going missing all over again.”

“Are you implying that you think that Ian is like Helen?” Francesca asked incredulously. “Gerard, Helen had schizophrenia. It’s not the same—”

“I know that. But if he’s not . . . entirely capable,” Gerard said delicately, “we’d like to see to him, get him the care he needs. You have no clue whatsoever as to Ian’s whereabouts? No hint or vague suspicion?”

“None. You know as well as I that Ian is comfortable walking every inch of this planet. He might be anywhere,” she said starkly. I am the Cat that walks by himself, and all places are alike to me. Her heart seemed to contract at the poignant, remembered line from the Kipling poem that she had always associated with Ian, even before she had been introduced to him. Would Ian ever be able to discard that armor he wore of determined aloneness? She’d thought he could. Once. Now she doubted he could ever be free of his past.

“We never really talked in depth much when I followed him to London for a few days,” she continued quietly after a moment. “His mother’s condition occupied almost all our attention. After she died, Ian just disappeared off the map. In the beginning, I had neighbors check in at his other residences in several countries. Lin gave me the contact phone numbers. No one admitted to seeing him, though.”

A shadow passed over Gerard’s face. “Yes. We did much the same, in search for him. Upon James’s request, I went to several of his residences and hotels where he frequently stays looking for him but . . . nothing.”

She didn’t respond. Of course they’d looked for Ian. She sighed, disappointed they hadn’t learned of any crumb of information she hadn’t discovered.

“In answer to your earlier question about whether or not we’re still officially engaged, the answer is no,” she said more calmly than she felt. She met Gerard’s stare steadily. “I took off Ian’s ring when I left here months ago. I’m not engaged to him anymore. Ian didn’t need to say it out loud. His actions speak louder than words.”

His tense, worried expression gave way. He stood, surprising her by taking her hands and drawing her up to a standing position.

“I’m sorry. More sorry than you know. I didn’t mean to cause you further pain by bringing all this up.”

“It’s all right. I understand. I’ve recognized you and the others are walking on eggshells.”

“Ian was wrong for treating you the way he did. What’s more, he’s a fool for letting you go. Not only are you brilliantly talented and sweet and fresh, you’re so . . .” he paused, his mouth growing hard as he stared down at her, his gaze flickering lower over her covered breasts ever so briefly, making the already sensitized crests prickle with awareness. His hands were large and warm and encompassed her own. His body didn’t touch hers, but standing just inches apart, she became abruptly aware of his male strength. She went still when he reached up and touched a tendril of her hair.

“Beautiful,” he finished, his jaw rigid.

She inhaled his scent. She stepped away, breaking his hold on her hands and faced the fireplace mantel. She was confused by the turn of events. She wasn’t ready to consider being with another man, let alone Ian’s relative. Rationally, it seemed wrong to her, but there was something more elemental that had made her step away.

Gerard felt wrong. He smelled wrong.

She looked fixedly at the white marble mantel, her thoughts and feelings a confused, jumbled mess.

“I’m really tired, Gerard. You should go,” she managed, her back still to him. She stiffened when she felt his hand on her shoulder.

“Francesca.”

She turned and reluctantly met his stare.

“There’s nothing wrong with needing someone,” he said quietly, his nostrils flaring slightly. “There’s nothing wrong with needing. Period.”

The burn in her body had never entirely dissipated, but at this point, she knew it was foolish to think it would be truly vanquished by her own hand . . . or anyone else’s, save one.

“I know that. But sometimes the timing is wrong,” she said.

Something passed over his features. He nodded once and dropped his hand.

“I see,” he said. She inhaled a breath of relief when he stepped away from her. “I really did just come here tonight to express my concern at the idea of you going to Belford Hall. I don’t think you’re ready for something like that.”

“Really? And yet you thought I’d be ready for this?” she asked, glancing significantly at the space between