Cates, Kimberly Read Online Free Page B

confronted with the
harsh reality of the haute ton's disapproval. And there was no doubt that those
interfering snobs who had nothing better with which to occupy their minds than
gossip and ridicule would have a veritable feast of scandal to feed on when it
came to Cass.
    He
sucked in a steadying breath, groping for the right words, as he had so many
times in the past. "Cass, we'll figure out how to deal with all that when
the time comes, just the way we always have before," he said, stroking
back one tangled silver-blond tress. "I understand that you feel the loss
of your mother." Aidan looked down at the ringlet that clung to his
finger, knowing that the one thing he had learned in his marriage to Delia was
that it was possible to grieve for something you never really had. "The
one thing I'm certain of is that dragging Miss Linton into our lives isn't
going to change the ache you feel."
    "Why
not?" Cassandra's lashes were wet with tears, her eyes shining with
belligerence. Belligerence, all the more heart-wrenching because Aidan could
see beneath it her absolute faith that he wouldn't fail her, that he would deny
her nothing.
    "Papa,
I want a mother more than I've ever wanted anything in my life. And soon it
will be too late. I'll be grown up. From the time I first came to Rathcannon,
I've watched the Cadagons with their babies and Mrs. O'Day with her little
ones. And I would have traded all my pretty things if just once I could run to
my own mother when I was sad, or sorry, or hurt."
    Aidan
winced at the memory of how many scraped knees and bumped elbows he'd soothed.
But there had been far more bumps and bruises that he hadn't been at Rathcannon
to heal. He'd done his best to make certain Cassandra was surrounded with
people who adored her: Mrs. Brindle, the Cadagons, the O'Days, everyone from
the head butler to the lowliest stableboy.
    He'd
told himself it didn't matter that no one carried the official title of Mother.
In fact, if he was brutally honest, he'd thought Cassandra well rid of Delia,
since the woman had possessed about as much maternal instinct as the stone
griffin. But the lack of a mother had obviously mattered to Cassandra. Just one
more bruised place in her spirit she'd kept hidden from him.
    He
looked from his daughter, now holding that ridiculous doll, to the woman who
still stood silhouetted against the side of the coach, ash-pale, agonizingly
quiet.
    Was
it possible that this stranger could give Cassandra something he could not? A
confidante to initiate Cass into the rites of becoming a woman? A protector if
her father should fail her?
    "No,
damn it," Aidan muttered more to himself than the hopeful girl standing
beside him. "Hellfire and damnation, I would be mad to even consider...
Cassandra, for the love of God, girl! Think!"
    "I have been thinking! Thinking and thinking until my head ached!"
    "That's
enough! God's teeth, Cass! You're acting like a spoiled child!" Aidan
snapped. If only she had been. Instead, she was facing him with the aura of a
most determined young woman.
    "If
you don't marry her, I'll never forgive you for taking this chance away from
me!" Cassandra said, her eyes shimmering with tears she was fighting not
to shed. Never." She wheeled as the first tear fell and ran up the stairs.
    Aidan
swore. When had his daughter—his willful, strong, adorable little Cass—become
prey to those wild, hysterical vapors the fair sex seemed given to? When he'd
left her last, she'd seemed so blasted rational, reasonable... asking him such
sweet questions: Are you happy, Papa? Do you ever get lonely, Papa? This visit,
were she to query him, the question would be Do you mind if I ruin your
life, Papa?
    He
would be willing to promise her the moon if it would make her dry her eyes. But marriage? Bind himself until death to a woman?
    He
shifted his gaze to where the woman stood—what the blazes was her name? Lyndon?
Mitton? Something as unremarkable as her face. The name Linton finally came to
his