Chain of Love by Anne Stuart

me—I know you’ll be getting ready for your trip to the
    Caribbean.”
    “I would be if I had any intention of going,” Cathy responded demurely. “As it is, I’ll just move my things out to the house and
    await your return.”
    “No!” There was something curiously akin to panic in his husky voice. “I don’t want you out there. I can’t bear having
    everybody fussing over me.”
    Cathy’s forest-green eyes met his calmly. “I can be just as stubborn as you, Pops, and if I’ve decided that I’m not going to St.
    Alphonse there’s nothing you can do to make me go.”
    “You don’t think so?” He met the challenge stonily. “We’ll have to see about that. I’m not so sick that I can’t
    still get exactly what I want. I have ways, daughter, that you wouldn’t even begin to imagine.” ‘
    “Really?” she shot back. “You should know by now that I’m more than a match for you.”
    “We’ll see,” he promised grimly. “We’ll see.”
     
    The next day was far too busy to allow Cathy much time for second thoughts. There was no way in heaven she would spend the next few weeks at Whiteoaks
    unless armed with a large enough stack of novels to keep her safely occupied, away from the myriad delights of backbiting and gossip offered by her
    discontented siblings. Then she had to unpack her suitcases, dumping the warm-weather clothes and replacing them with jeans and sweaters to keep her
    warmer, although they were certain to turn Georgia pale with horror. At the last minute she packed Sin’s Irish knit sweater. After all, he’d
    have no use for it down in the Caribbean, and he hadn’t asked for it back.
    For a moment she allowed herself to wonder whether he would regret that she hadn’t come. Meg had maintained a stony silence since her final plea last
    evening, and Cathy couldn’t decide whether she was relieved or disappointed. Heading down to St. Alphonse with Meg would have been playing with fire.
    Despite the fact that Sin MacDonald seemed scarcely interested in her, hadn’t called her in the three days before he’d set sail, Cathy
    couldn’t shake the remembrance of his devastating kiss in the hallway. If only she could decide what had provoked it. Was it a mere whim, a passing
    fancy, or a matter of habit? Maybe he was so unsure of his masculinity that he had to go about forcing it on any female who was less than interested.
    Much as she wanted to believe that, it was too far-fetched. Sin knew only too well that beneath her cool exterior she had been fascinated despite herself.
    And she had yet to meet anyone less unsure of his masculinity.
    She couldn’t think of Meg without a wave of guilt washing over her. It wasn’t often that her sister asked anything of her, and to have to turn
    her down was painful beyond belief. But Cathy’s family ties were strong, and her thwarted need to be needed overwhelming. As long as she felt her
    father truly needed her, and Meg only wanted her companionship, then there was no question where her duty lay.
    Glancing at the clock by her bed, she allowed herself a noisy, far from satisfactory sigh. Six fifteen, and Meg’s plane would be leaving in less than
    two hours. Knowing her sister’s almost excessive punctuality, Cathy had little doubt that Meg would already be en route to Dulles Airport, without
    having placed a last minute call to her sister, to cajole, to threaten, or at least to let her know she was forgiven. It was unlike Meg to hold a grudge,
    but in this matter she had used every trick she could to change Cathy’s mind. Cathy had remained adamant, but now, as she watched her clock and
    sighed, she wondered whether she had made the right decision.
    The ringing of her doorbell interrupted her reveries, the buzz shrill and angry in the silent apartment. It was amazing, Cathy thought as she closed her
    suitcase and headed toward the door, how expressive a mechanical device such as a doorbell could be. There was little doubt that whoever was