Father Most Blessed

Alex’s gaze lingered on the heavy oil portrait of his grandfather that hung over the dining-room fireplace. “Sometimes I find that hard to believe.”

His words were so quiet, he almost seemed to be speaking to himself. Paula wanted to argue, but instinctively she knew it wouldn’t do any good. She’d been wrong. It wasn’t his house, not in the way she understood those words. It was the Caine mansion, and right now Alex looked as if that were a heavy burden.

She frowned down at the folder in her hand. “I’ll get started on this.”

Alex turned toward her, seeming to shake off the clouds that surrounded him. “Thank you.”

“For what? It’s my job.” It was hard to sound casual when her heart clenched at his closeness.

“For being here. For helping me. I’m glad you’re back.”

MARTA PERRY

wanted to be a writer from the moment she encountered Nancy Drew, at about age eight. She didn’t see publication of her stories until many years later, when she began writing children’s fiction for Sunday school papers while she was a church educational director. Although now retired from that position in order to write full-time, she continues to play an active part in her church and loves teaching a class of lively fifth-and sixth-grade Sunday school students.

Marta lives in rural Pennsylvania with her husband of thirty-seven years and has three grown children. She loves to hear from readers and enjoys responding. She can be reached c/o Steeple Hill Books, 300 East 42nd Street, New York, NY 10017.

Father Most Blessed

Marta Perry

www.millsandboon.co.uk

For it is by grace you have been saved, through

faith, and this not from yourselves: it is the gift of

God—not by works, so that no one can boast.

—Ephesians 2:8-9

This story is dedicated with love and gratitude to

the siblings and spouses who add so much richness

to our lives: Pat and Ed, Bill and Molly,

Herb and Barb, Gary and Arddy, and Chris.

And, as always, to Brian.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Letter to Reader

Chapter One

A man who lived in a twenty-room house ought to be able to have silence when he wanted it. Alex Caine tossed his pen on the library desk and stalked to the center hallway of the Italianate mansion that had been home to the Caine family for three generations. The noise that had disrupted his work on a crucial business deal came from beyond the swinging door to the servants’ area.

Frowning, he headed toward the sound, his footsteps sharp on the marble floor, and pushed through the door to the rear of the house. He’d told his ailing housekeeper to rest this afternoon, so there should have been no sound at all to disturb his concentration. But Maida Hansen, having taken care of him since the day his mother died when he was six, tended to ignore any orders she didn’t want to follow.

Well, in this case she was going to listen. If he didn’t find the right words for this delicate negotiation, Caine Industries might not survive for another generation. There might be no company at all to leave to his son.

He winced. What would his grandfather or his father have said to that? They’d assumed they were founding a dynasty to last a hundred years. They wouldn’t look kindly on the man who presided over its demise.

The noise came from the pantry, down the hall from the kitchen. He seized the doorknob and yanked.

The figure balanced precariously on the step stool wasn’t Maida. Maida had never in her life worn blue jeans or a sweatshirt proclaiming her World’s Greatest Teacher. His heart stopped, and he looked at the woman he had thought he’d never see again.

“What’s going on?”

She spun at the sound of his voice, wobbled and overbalanced. Her arms waved wildly to regain control, but it was too late. The step stool toppled, sending her flying toward him. Pans clattered to the floor. In an instant his arms had closed around Paula Hansen.

The breath went out of him. Carefully he set her on her feet and stepped back, clamping down on the treacherous rush of feelings. Paula—here in his house again, looking up at him with what might have been embarrassment in her sea-green eyes.

With an effort he schooled his face to polite concern and found his voice. “Paula. I didn’t expect to find you here. Maida didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Maida’s time outside her duties was her own, and she was perfectly free to have her niece stay at the housekeeper’s cottage whenever she wanted to. But in the almost two years since the plane crash, since what had happened between them, Paula hadn’t returned to Bedford Creek.

“She didn’t tell you?” Surprise filled Paula’s expressive face. She tried to mask it, turning away to right the step stool.

“No, she didn’t.” If he’d known Paula was on the estate, he wouldn’t have betrayed shock at the sight of her. In fact, he’d probably have found a way to avoid seeing her at all.

“But I thought she…” Paula stopped, seeming to edit whatever she’d been about to say. “My school just got out for the summer yesterday, so I’m on vacation now.” Again she stopped, and again he had the sense of things left unsaid.

She’d been on vacation two years ago, when she’d come to Pennsylvania to spend the summer taking care of his son. It had seemed the perfect solution. He had needed someone reliable to care for Jason until kindergarten started in the fall. His housekeeper’s niece needed a summer job. Neither of them had anticipated anything else.

The June sunlight, slanting through the small panes of the pantry window, burnished the honey blond of her hair. Her hair was shorter now than the last time he’d seen her, and it fell in unruly curls around her face. Her green eyes still reflected glints of gold, and that vulnerable mouth and stubborn chin hadn’t changed.

Tension jagged along his nerves as images of the last time he’d seen her invaded his mind—lightning splitting the sky outside the small plane; the brief hope the pilot would manage to land, shattered when the plane cartwheeled and flames rushed toward him; Paula, several rows ahead, trapped in a mass of twisted metal. If an unexpected business trip hadn’t put him on the daily commuter flight the same day that Paula was leaving to go home, what might have happened? Would someone have pulled her from the jammed seat to safety?

“Is something wrong?” She pulled her sweatshirt sleeves down, frowning. “You don’t mind that I’m here, do you?”

“Of course not. I’m just surprised.” He tried for a coolness he didn’t feel. “It didn’t bother you, flying back into Bedford Creek again?”

“No.” She shook her head, then smiled ruefully. “I suppose it might have, if I’d tried to do it. I drove up from Baltimore.”

Her admission of vulnerability startled him. The Paula he remembered had been proud of her self-reliance and determined not to accept help from anyone. Even after the accident, when he’d awakened in the hospital and learned her family had taken her home to Baltimore for medical care, his offer of financial help had been quickly refused.

“Driving instead of flying sounds reasonable to me,” he said. “I don’t enjoy getting on a plane now, either.”

His own admission shocked him even more. Alexander Caine didn’t admit weakness, not to anyone. His father had trained that out of him when he was about his own son’s age.

“I haven’t been on a plane since…” Paula’s gaze flickered away from the scar that accented Alex’s cheekbone.

His mouth stiffened, and he read the reaction he should have gotten used to by now. “The plane crash,” he finished for her, his tone dry. “You can say the words, you know.” He didn’t need or want her pity.

“The drive up wasn’t bad—just long.” She seemed determined to ignore his reference to the crash. She stared at the rows of shelves with their seldom-used dishes as if she really didn’t see them. Then her gaze shifted to him. “As I said, I’m on vacation, so I was free to come when Aunt Maida needed me.” Her expression turned challenging. “You have noticed she’s in pain lately, haven’t you?”

He stiffened at the implication of neglect in her pointed question. Of course he felt responsible for the woman who’d cared for his family all these years. But it wasn’t Paula Hansen’s place to question him.

“I’ve asked her repeatedly about her health,” he said. “She keeps insisting she’s fine.”

She lifted her eyebrows, her gaze turning skeptical. Paula’s face had always shown her emotions so clearly. A picture flashed into his mind of her lips close to his, her eyes soft.

No. He pushed the errant thought away. Don’t go there.

“Aunt Maida always insists she’s fine. But you must have noticed something.”

“She’s been tired and limping more lately.” He reached behind him for the door, hoping he didn’t sound defensive. He was wasting time in this futile discussion—time he didn’t have to spare. “I told her to take it easy this afternoon. She does too much.” He glanced at the pans scattered on the worn linoleum. “Instead, she seems to have enlisted you as assistant housekeeper.”

Her chin came up at that, as if it were an insult. “I’m glad to help my aunt.”

The last time she’d been here, it had been for her brief job as Jason’s nanny. Alex tried again to ignore the flood of memories of that time: the laughter and warmth she’d brought to this house, her face turned toward his in the moonlight, the moment he’d forgotten himself and kissed her—

Enough. He’d gotten through the remainder of her stay in Bedford Creek by pretending that kiss had never happened. Paula was probably as eager as he was to avoid the subject.

“I’ve already told Maida to rest more,” he said. “She won’t listen.”

“It isn’t just rest she needs.” She stared at him, a question in her green eyes. “You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” He couldn’t erase the irritation from his tone. “What are you driving at, Paula? I don’t have time for guessing games.”

Her eyes flashed. “She can’t put it off any longer. Aunt Maida has to have hip replacement surgery.”

Surgery. The implications staggered him. Maida, the rock on which his home life depended, needed surgery. He fought past a wave of guilt that he hadn’t guessed what was going on.

“No, I didn’t know.” He returned Paula’s frown. “I wish Maida had told me, but if she didn’t want to, that was her right.”

“She didn’t tell you because she didn’t want you to worry.”

Paula clearly didn’t consider protecting him from worry a priority. Antagonism battled the attraction he felt just looking at her. Maybe it was a good thing she annoyed him so much. It reminded him not to let that attraction get out of control, as it had once before.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said shortly. “If she needs the operation now, she has to have it. There’s no question of that.”

Even as he frowned at Paula, his mind raced from one responsibility to another—his son, the factory, the business deal that might save them. His stomach clenched at the thought of the Swiss firm’s representative, due to visit any day now. He’d expect to be entertained in Alex’s home. How could Alex swing that without Maida’s calm, efficient management?

“My aunt knows this is a bad time for you. That’s probably why she hasn’t told you.”

He sensed Paula’s disapproval, although whether it was directed at him or her aunt, he didn’t know. “I’ll manage,” he said curtly. “I’ll have to find someone to fill in for her, that’s all.”

He knew when he said it how futile a hope that was. An isolated mountain village didn’t boast an army of trained domestics ready for hiring. He’d be lucky to find anyone at all in the middle of the tourist season.

“It won’t be easy to hire someone, will it?” She seemed to read his thoughts.

“No. I’m afraid Maida has spoiled us.” He should have known things couldn’t run so smoothly forever.

“Aunt Maida thinks she has a solution, if you’ll go along with it.”

He realized Paula was carefully not looking at him, and that fact sent up a red flag of warning. “What is it?”

Paula took a deep breath and fixed him with a look that was half embarrassed, half defiant. “She wants you to hire me as her replacement.”

For a long moment he could only stare at her. Paula—back in his house, cooking his meals, looking after his son. Given what had happened between them the last time she worked for him, he couldn’t believe she’d be willing to try it again.

One thing he could believe, though. Having Paula Hansen in his house again wouldn’t just be embarrassing. Having her there, seeing her every day, no matter how desperately he needed help—that would be downright insane.

The expression on Alex’s lean, aristocratic face showed Paula only too well exactly what he thought of her aunt’s idea. Why on earth hadn’t Aunt Maida told him before Paula arrived? Maida knew this situation would be difficult. She’d said she’d prepare the way. Instead, she’d brought Paula here without saying a word to Alex about it.

Of course, Aunt Maida couldn’t have known her niece would go weak-kneed at the sight of Alex Caine.

“I see.” Alex’s tone was coolly noncommittal, and the polite, well-bred mask he habitually wore slid into place.

It was too late. Naturally he wouldn’t come right out and tell her he didn’t want her in his house again. But she’d seen his swift, unguarded reaction. Her heart sank. She should have known he wouldn’t agree to this.

“Where is Maida? We need to talk about this.”

“She’s not here.” She took a deep breath and prepared for an explosion. Oh, Aunt Maida. Why didn’t you tell him? “She’s already checked into the hospital in Henderson.”

He started to speak, then clamped his mouth closed. Maybe he was counting to ten. She could only hope it worked.

“She’s scheduled for surgery tomorrow.” She might as well get it all out. If he intended to explode, he’d just have to do it once. “I guess she thought I could help out here, at least until you make a decision about replacing her.”

“You said she didn’t want to worry me. Did she think this wasn’t worrying—going to the hospital and leaving you to break the news?”

The fine lines around Alex’s dark eyes seemed to deepen. She longed to smooth them away with her fingertips. The urge, so strong her skin tingled, shocked her. She couldn’t think that, couldn’t feel it.

She didn’t have a good answer to his question. “I thought she planned to tell you. When we talked on the phone last week, she said she would.”

Maida had sounded so desperate. “I need you, Paula. Jason needs you. That child is hurting, and you might be the only one who can help him.” Maida must not have wanted to risk telling Alex, and his finding some other solution to her absence. She could only pray Maida was right.

“Why didn’t you tell me, then?”

Alex’s intense, dark stare seemed to pierce right through her, finding the vulnerabilities she longed to hide. She took a deep breath, trying to quell jittery nerves. She’d known it would be difficult to come back here. She just hadn’t anticipated how difficult. If Aunt Maida knew how hard this was for her—

No, she couldn’t let Maida know that. She’d agreed to do this thing, and she had to do it.

“I am telling you. I mean, now you know, don’t you?” She clenched her hands together, hoping he didn’t realize how much of her attitude was bravado. “Look, all I know is that she said she’d tell you. I thought it was all arranged. That’s why I’m here—” she gestured toward the scattered pots “—trying to fix dinner for you and Jason.”

Alex looked if it was the worst idea he’d ever heard. If he sent her packing, she’d never have a chance to make up for the mistakes she’d made the last time she was here.

“I can cook, you know,” she assured him. “I learned from the best.” Maida had insisted on giving her cooking lessons every time Paula came to visit.

“Of course you’re going to get an education and have a profession,” Maida would say. “But it never does any harm to know how to cook.”

He looked at her skeptically, and her doubts rose. Why was this so difficult?

Lord, if this really is the right thing to do, please let me know it.

“Dinner tonight isn’t important.” His voice was clipped. “I’ll take Jason out for a hamburger—he always welcomes that. As for the rest of it, I’ll make a decision later. You can go to the hospital to see Maida. Tell her I’ll be there tomorrow.”

She nodded, trying not to react to his tone. As heir to the Caine family fortune, he’d probably been born with the commanding manner that assumed compliance with his orders. The quality never failed to irritate Paula, but Alex had a right to make his own decisions about his staff. And if she did work for him, he’d also have a perfect right to give her orders and expect obedience.

Seeming to consider the matter settled, Alex turned toward the front of the house.

She wanted to let him go, because his disturbing presence upset her equilibrium and made her silly heart flutter. But she couldn’t. There was too much yet to be settled. She had to convince him that she was the right person for this job.

She caught up with him at the swinging door marking the boundary between the family’s part of the mansion and the servants’ section.

“Alex—” She put her hand on his arm to stop him, and was instantly sorry. Through the silky broadcloth of his shirt, his skin warmed to her touch. He wore the dress shirt and tie that was part of his usual attire, but the sleeves were turned back at the wrists, exposing a gold watchband that gleamed against his skin.

She pulled her gaze from his hands, fighting for balance, and focused on his face, instead. It didn’t help. He bore lines he hadn’t two years ago, and the narrow scar that crossed his cheekbone added an attractively dangerous look to his even, classic features.

She snatched her hand away. “I mean, Mr. Caine.” She felt her cheeks flushing. Observing the proprieties might help keep things businesslike between them. It might prevent a recurrence of what happened two years ago.

He stopped, looking down at her, his dark eyes unreadable beneath winged brows. Then he shook his head.

“You’ve been calling me Alex since the first time you came here. You were only about Jason’s age.”

She nodded, deflected by memories of the past. At least Alex seemed able to put his antagonism aside for the moment and remember a more peaceful time. That had to be a good sign.

“I was eight. And homesick as could be. You showed me where the children’s books were in the library and told me to help myself.”

She’d been awestruck when Alex Caine, only child of the town’s richest man and the prince in the Caine castle, had made the effort to be kind to her. She’d felt like Cinderella when he’d led her into the elegant room lined with books and shown her the window seat next to the fireplace where she could curl up and read. Not that she’d ever done it when there was a chance his formidable father might find her.

“So we’re old friends.” The smile that came too rarely lit his lean face, causing an uncomfortable flutter somewhere in the vicinity of her heart. “Alex will do.”

“Alex,” she repeated, trying not to linger on his name. “You know how stubborn Aunt Maida can be. I’m sure she was just doing what she thought would cause the least trouble. If she could have delayed the surgery, she would have, but the doctor insisted.”

She wanted to say the words that would convince him to let her stay, but she couldn’t find them. Instead, she swung back to her worries about Maida.

“She told me Dr. Overton retired. Someone else took over his practice.”

“You can have confidence in Brett Elliot,” he said promptly, apparently reading her concern. “He’s an excellent doctor, and I’m sure he’s recommended the best surgeon.” A hint of a smile touched his lips again. “And I’m not saying that because Brett’s an old friend.”

She suddenly saw herself as a child, peering from the housekeeper’s cottage toward the swimming pool. A teenage Alex entertained two other boys: Mitch Donovan and Brett Elliot, his closest friends.

“Aunt Maida seems to trust him. That’s the important thing.”

He nodded, hand on the door. She could sense the impatience in him, as if he wanted to be elsewhere, as if only his deeply ingrained politeness kept him standing there.

She probably should let this go, but she couldn’t. She took a breath. “I know Aunt Maida’s suggestion has put you on the spot. But it really would ease her mind if she knew I was staying.”

She knew instantly she’d pressed too hard. He seemed to withdraw, putting distance between them even though he hadn’t moved. His face set in bleak lines.

Alex had never looked that way when she was growing up. He’d always been surrounded by a golden aura nothing could diminish. But that had been before his wife left, before he’d spent too many weeks in that hospital himself.

“Let’s get the immediate situation taken care of first,” he said. “You settle Maida at the hospital. If she needs anything, she just has to ask.”

“I know that. I’m sure Maida does, too.” She tried to deny a wave of resentment that he could so easily grant any wish of her aunt’s, while she couldn’t.

He clasped her hand, sending a surge of warmth along her skin and stealing her breath. Then he dropped it as abruptly as if he’d felt that heat.

“Maida will be glad to have you with her for the operation. I know how much she enjoyed it when you worked here.”

He almost seemed to stumble over the words, as if he found this situation as awkward as she did. It surprised her. Smooth, sophisticated Alex had never been at a loss for the right phrase. That ability was something else the upper crust seemed to be born with.

All the things she didn’t want to say about the time she worked in the Caine mansion skittered through her mind. Still, it wouldn’t hurt to remind him that his son already knew her. “I appreciated the chance to take care of Jason. How is he?”

“Fine.” His face seemed to stiffen again. “Looking forward to summer vacation after the rigors of second grade.”

She had the sense of something suppressed, something he didn’t want to say about his son, and thought again of Aunt Maida’s worries about the boy.

“He used to be such a happy child. But his mother went away, and then Alex was in the accident and in the hospital all those weeks. Jason’s changed. He’s all curled up inside himself, and I don’t know how to help him.”

“I’m looking forward to seeing him.” She tried to keep the words casual. “Does he really want a fast-food burger, or did you just make that up?”

“Believe it or not, he does. Maida and I try to educate his palate, but he’s very much a seven-year-old in his tastes.” The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled. “I think you gave him his first trip to get fast food when you took care of him, didn’t you?”

“I’m afraid so.” She remembered it as if it were yesterday. Jason’s excitement at ordering from the counter, the awed look on his face as he sat across from her in the booth. The feelings that welled up at how much he resembled his father. That emotion struck her again, as strong as if someone had hit her.