Inherit My Heart

A M Jenner

Copyright 2015, The Electric Scroll

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by The Electric Scroll. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the publisher. For information contact The Electric Scroll, 745 N. Gilbert Rd. Ste 124 PMB 197, Gilbert, Arizona, 85234.

The characters in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and entirely in the imagination of the reader.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Thanks

Dedication

Books by A M Jenner

Chapter One

About the Author

Connect with me online

Thanks

I'd like to thank Toby Moilan for being our cover model.

I'd also like to thank the Dillard's at Superstition Springs Mall in Mesa, Arizona for providing the luggage and bed and allowing us to take the back cover photo in their store.

Dedication

Friendship is like gossamer strands which bind us to each other, the silken cord strengthening fiber by fiber as we help each other through rough times. Patti McBride Benard is such a friend. We were both experiencing hard challenges as I wrote the first chapters of this book. Each night she'd come over to read what had been added; she called it her sanity break.

When I wanted to give up, she wouldn't let me quit. With her encouragement and support, the pages grew into a manuscript. This book is dedicated to her, truly a Best Friend Forever. Thanks, Patti Bee; we made it through the rainy days!

Books by A M Jenner

Inherit My Heart

A Heart Full of Diamonds

Clues to Food (a cook book)

Bits and Bites (an anthology)

{ One }

Katrina fumbled with her key chain, trying to stuff the key into the lock before the phone stopped ringing. In her haste, she dropped her keys, the late afternoon sun glinting on them as they fell. She grabbed them up, located the door key, and inserted it into the lock. The mechanism didn't work. Again.

Oh, please, she moaned, jiggling the key so it would function properly. Don't choose now to be obstinate. Please open. Please! With a final jog of the key, the tumblers slid into place and the lock turned. She pulled the door open, scrambled through and slammed it shut automatically flipping the deadbolt into place before she raced across the living room and into the hall for the phone.

Breathless, she yanked the receiver off the hook. Hello, Katrina speaking.

There was silence for a moment. Then a deep male voice said, Is this Katrina McSwayne?

Few people called her from work; great-aunt Monalee called every few months, but this voice didn't belong to anyone she knew. She had really expected it to be her aged aunt. Puzzled, she hesitated.

Well? The voice was slightly caustic.

Um, yes, this is she; with whom am I speaking, please?

Gavin Browning. I understand you are, or were at one time, married to Charleston Beardsley. One Charleston Wesley Beardsley. Is that correct?

Fear tied knots in her stomach. She hadn't told anyone here about that disaster, so who could this man be? Time. She needed more time. Think, Katrina, think, her brain demanded.

She swallowed hard. What did you say your name was?

Browning. Gavin Browning.

Who did you say you're looking for?

You. You are Charleston's wife, aren't you? His tone sounded curt.

Where did you get wild information like that? Katrina tried to sound off-hand, but her voice wasn't cooperating. It just sounded squeaky, even to herself.

It doesn't matter where I obtained the information, Ms. McSwayne. Please just answer if it is true and correct.

Katrina's heart felt like a huge ball of ice and her dry throat prevented speech. The silence stretched.

Ms. McSwayne, answer the question. Are you now, or have you ever been married to Charleston Wesley Beardsley? The sound of his impatience lashed her nerve endings.

Was this person after her to pay her husband's debts? He'd been such a scoundrel. It wasn't the first time he'd told someone to collect his debts from her, but she didn't think he knew where she'd fled. Had he found her at last?

Please, no, she prayed silently. Katrina took a deep breath.

I…I don't have any money. Please, go away, she said.

The sudden bark of laughter from the telephone startled her.

Oh, Katrina McSwayne, you are priceless! You're just what he described. No money. Again the deep laughter boomed in her ear.

Katrina gripped the phone's earpiece so hard her upper arm ached with the strain, her fingers nearly numb. His laughter made her angry, and the anger gave her strength.

I didn't realize it was so funny, Mr. Browning. I'm glad you've had your laugh for the day. I'll thank you not to call and bother me anymore. Goodbye.

As Katrina hung up the phone, she heard him call out her name. She didn't want to talk to him. She didn't want to know what trouble Charleston was in this time.

She was in shock. It had been six years since she'd heard Charleston's name. It hadn't been long enough.

The phone rang, making her jump. She just looked at it. It rang again, the shrill noise hurting her ears. It rang a third time. Gingerly, she picked up the receiver.

He…hello?

Don't try that again, Katrina Lee McSwayne. You didn't answer my question. Now, were you, in fact, married to Charleston Wesley Beardsley?

Katrina's pulse pounded in her ears so loudly she felt sure he could hear it through the telephone lines. Was this a prankster, trying to hassle her? It couldn't be; no one here in Spencer knew about Charleston. The thought gave her an idea, though, and with the idea, courage. She took a calming breath.

I don't know you, and I don't owe you any money. You have no right to call and pester me. There are laws against harassment. I don't have to answer any questions from you, Mr. Browning. Drop whatever ploy this is and leave me alone. Good-bye.

Katrina slammed down the phone and took a step back, feeling as though the instrument had become a monster and would strike if she didn't move from its near vicinity.

It rang again. Petrified, she stared at it, listening to it ring.

She didn't pick it up again…couldn't have answered it right then had her life depended on it. She'd used her one brave moment with her argument about being harassed. It was all she had.

She didn't want to answer the question Mr. Browning was asking her. How could she, when she didn't know the answer, even for herself?

{ Two }

Finally the nerve-shattering noise of the telephone stopped. With the silence came release and motion was restored. Katrina returned to the door and checked the deadbolt. Then she slid home the chain. Turning her back to the outside world, Katrina slumped against the door with a sigh. She was safely locked in.

It was an automatic reflex to close and bolt the doors even during the day. She'd learned the hard way to bolt doors behind her. Even after six years she'd been unable to overcome that part of the fear. It was just one of the scars left over from her so-called marriage to…how had Mr. Browning put it? Oh, yes. 'One Charleston Wesley Beardsley'. Well, he was one of a kind, for sure.

Katrina made it to the couch and sat before her legs gave out. Thank goodness there was no coffee table to impede her progress to the couch. There was only the table beneath the windows across from the couch that she used for a desk and to hold the radio that was sitting next to the few books there. The return of the old fears made goose bumps pepper her arms and she shivered.

Numbly she stared, not focusing on the radio or the books in front of her or anything else in the room. Her mind was busy with different images; pictures from the past. Nightmarish flashes of what life had been like with Charleston for a husband.

Husband. What a joke. And the joke was strictly on her. She sighed. If only she hadn't been in such a rush to get married. If only her grandparents had given her counsel, or said she was too young, or too naive, or too…something. Anything! But they'd been in as much of a hurry for her to marry as she, if not more so. If only….

Stop it, Katrina. She spoke aloud. You've been over the 'if onlys' and 'what ifs' so many times and you know it doesn't change anything. So forget it, and forget him! The sound of her voice broke her daze and she roused herself.

She had no idea how long she'd been sifting through the painful memories of her marriage, but as she moved from the couch, she noticed the room was dark.

Katrina walked over to the lamp and switched it on. As the light flooded the room, there was a knock at the door. She froze.

The knock came again, a little louder this time, sounding impatient. Katrina wasn't expecting anyone. She held her breath, praying it would stop.

It didn't.

The door now reverberated with the pounding and the sound startled Katrina so much she was galvanized into action.

She stepped quickly to the narrow window adjacent to the door, moved the curtain a fraction of an inch, and peered out with dread.

Illuminated in the porch light was the most magnificent specimen of a man she had ever seen. Dark hair waved gently back from a high forehead. A well-trimmed mustache hovered just above full lips.

His clothes were rich-looking and well-tailored. Katrina knew she'd never seen this man at work; she'd definitely have remembered him.

I need to talk to you. Open this door, Katrina! The command was imperious; Katrina flipped the locks and opened the thick wood as far as the heavy chain allowed.

His presence was powerful even through a four-inch opening. Handsome, noble, princely; the words flowing into her mind were woefully inadequate. Her eyes finally met his, and she realized he was angry.

They stood staring at each other for a long moment, palpable electricity flickering between them. Finally, Katrina asked, What…what do you want?

The man peered at her through the thin opening. I'm not accustomed to doing business through a four-inch crack.

I don't open my door to people I don't know, Katrina said.

The hunk smiled, his wicked grin bringing into play two rather deep dimples in his cheeks.

Katrina felt faint, unable to breathe properly.

I'm Gavin Browning. I'm a lawyer investigating some matters concerning Charleston Wesley Beardsley, among other things. Katrina Lee McSwayne, I have some questions you need to answer.

With a sinking feeling, Katrina knew this was the man who'd called her on the telephone earlier. The one she had hung up on. Twice.

{ Three }

Katrina stood looking at him, trying to judge the real reason for his being on her doorstep. He was of a much better class than most of the people who'd come to her in the past in connection with Charleston.

Shakily, she held onto the door for support.

Please, she said. She was so close to tears she could feel her lips trembling and bit them from the inside for just a moment before continuing. I told you I have no money. Please, go away and leave me alone.

You don't have much of a choice, Ms. McSwayne. I'm here on legitimate legal business and if you don't cooperate with me now and answer a few questions, I can always return with a police officer and a court injunction which will force you to let me in and to talk with you. Then, we'd also have an audience for your answers.

She felt the blood leave her face; dread held her still and silent. She was afraid of countless things, and a lawyer on her doorstep asking about Charleston comprised many of them.

His voice softened. Look, Ms. McSwayne. I haven't grown a second head, at least not in the past five minutes. I also refuse to answer the questions churning in your pretty little head until I've been invited in and am sitting down. It's been a long and tiring day. I promise I will not, he added with a smile, take advantage of my greater physical strength to cause you harm or assault you. I prefer the favors I'm given are just that…given; not taken.

Katrina acknowledged temporary defeat. She didn't want anyone else to hear any answers she gave about Charleston. Hands shaking, Katrina closed the door enough to slide the chain free and then opened the door wide enough to admit him, broad shoulders and all. Gavin stepped past her.

Katrina closed the door, automatically bolting it behind him. She wondered as she did so what the use was of locking the door with the danger on the inside of it, but her long established habit carried her fingers through their usual ritual. He might be dangerous to her mentally, but there was something about him…a feeling of safety, and…something more which caught her at interest. Somehow, she knew he wouldn't harm her person. The thought surprised her.

Katrina hoped if she gave him all the answers he needed, he'd go away and leave her alone. She felt a brief flicker of sadness, and wondered why.

She'd barely laid eyes on the man. What would it matter if she never saw him again? If he knew Charleston, it would be much better if she didn't see him after today. But he hadn't said he knew Charleston. All he'd actually said was he needed to ask her questions about Charleston. It may be a different matter entirely.

She led him to the living room and motioned him toward the couch. He set his briefcase on the floor and then peeled off his suit coat, laying it over the armrest before he sat. His shoulders really were as broad as they first appeared to be. She gulped.

Katrina went to one of a pair of chairs at the side of the table across from him and quietly seated herself, her hands folded together so he couldn't see how badly she was shaking. She kept her eyes on the floor, not really knowing what to say, not daring to look at him.

He was out of his mind to let you slip out of his grasp, he said.

His words startled her. Katrina took a quick glance at his smiling face, and then looked back at her hands. She didn't dare look up again. His eyes said things to her that she hadn't been told in a very long time. Maybe that was just in her own imagination, though.

Mr. Browning was quiet. Katrina became more uncomfortable as the silence stretched on. Finally, she gathered her courage and glanced up, catching a very soft look on his face.

The ringing of the telephone startled Katrina, but it also gave her something to do. She quickly stood and walked to the small nook just inside the hall doorway which held the phone, sitting placidly on its directory, and answered it.

Hello, Katrina speaking.

Katrina? Jerilynn. The mechanic says the stupid part finally came in. He'll install it tomorrow. I hate to impose again, but could you possibly…?

Sure, Jerilynn, no problem. I can be there by 7:20.

Oh, Katrina, you're wonderful! I don't know how to thank you…and I promise to be ready on time tomorrow.

Katrina smiled. Okay, see you then. Bye. She replaced the receiver and turned back toward her chair.

Mr. Browning had moved. He was standing directly behind her, close enough to her she found herself almost in his arms. She felt dwarfed by him. She looked up into his face. Startled, she saw warmth there, and something else…but the look was gone before she had a chance to identify it.

He was much too close. She dragged air into her lungs and realized she could smell something delightful; a musky scent she'd never sniffed before. He smelled…sexy. The idea was strange to her; she'd never thought someone could smell sexy, but he did.

She watched him look at her. He drew even nearer. It was like a slow-motion movie. She couldn't move. She felt like a bird, hypnotized by a snake. He slowly bent towards her and she knew he was going to kiss her.

Bizarrely, she wanted just that and tilted her face toward him. He captured her lips with his own. It was a very soft, sensuous feeling; his lips on hers, his mustache just brushing her upper lip. She felt her emotions whirling in the slight embrace. She couldn't remember a time she'd been kissed with so much feeling or gentleness. She wanted it to go on forever.

The slight movement of his arm as it came up to hold her was a small distraction, but it was enough to restore some of her senses and she pulled away. She'd enjoyed the kiss and shouldn't have; she wasn't free to kiss anyone. Guilt filled her with humiliation. As hot blood flooded her face; she knew she was blushing. How could she let a total stranger into her home and then kiss him like that without a fight? She looked at the floor.

Please. Her voice was a mere whisper. Don't do that. She swallowed. Please. I must insist you not…um…touch me again. She cleared her throat, keeping her eyes on the floor.

Katrina could not move away; she was trapped in the nook by his body. She wasn't really sure she wanted to move, either. That thought bothered her. She usually kept clear of men…especially the smooth-talking, good-looking ones. You couldn't trust them; she'd found that out the hard, painful way.

Why, then, did she feel she could trust this man? What made him different? Why did she want him to kiss her again, and go on kissing her forever?

His voice was tender; soft. Why not, Katrina? He touched a strand of her hair with the tip of his index finger. His breath fanned her cheek. Don't you think you deserve some tenderness after what you've been through?

{ Four }

A bucket of icy water thrown fully into her face could not have produced any more of a deterrent to her wayward thoughts of kissing him than that last sentence. Alarm returned in full force. What exactly did this stranger know about her?

She shoved her hands against his chest as hard as she could. She hadn't enough strength to move him, but after a long moment, he got the idea and stepped back, releasing her from the alcove. She bolted for her chair. She didn't hear him move.

Katrina was completely out of her depth. Her hands were moving nervously in her lap; a tell-tale sign of her distress. She grasped them tightly together to still their shaking. When finally he spoke, she jumped at the sound.

Do you think I could have some coffee or tea?

Wh…what? Oh. I…I don't have either one. I could fix you some hot chocolate. Or I have some cold juice.

Chocolate will be fine, thank you. Make two cups. It wasn't a question, but an order. She didn't care. It would be easier to bear his devastating presence if she had something specific to do; something to keep her busy.

Katrina practically flew into the kitchen. Her hands were still shaking as she filled her old battered teapot with water, set it on the burner and turned on the heat. Emotionally she was a wreck; she couldn't even take a decently full breath. She mentally berated herself for her sudden fit of scared rabbit syndrome. She thought she'd gotten beyond that in the past six years.

She turned toward the cupboard for the chocolate powder, sugar and other ingredients and found Mr. Browning standing in the doorway, watching her.

She went cold all over, swayed with a sudden dizziness and reached for the counter. In an instant he was at her side, a supporting hand under her elbow.

Are you all right? Concern softened his voice. At her nod he relaxed a bit, still holding her, but more gently.

Taking a deep breath, she found her voice. I'm fine, really. You just…startled me. I…didn't hear you follow me in here…that's all. Sorry. If you'll go out into the living room, I'll bring your chocolate to you as soon as it's ready. She looked up at Mr. Browning uncertainly.

Still holding her elbow, he watched her intently. What is it with you, Katrina McSwayne? His hold tightened on her arm. I can't figure you out.

Katrina flinched and bit her lip to keep from crying out at the pain his fingers were inflicting. She'd probably have bruises tomorrow and wondered briefly if he would care.

I'm afraid I don't know what you mean, Mr. Browning.

Please stop with the formality. After all, we're not exactly strangers anymore. My name's Gavin. Use it. His voice dripped sarcasm.

She examined his face, but couldn't read his expression. "I don't know what you mean by that, either. I've never set eyes on