The Billionaire’s Ward: McClellan Billionaires Book Three Page 2

  “Me, too.” Maggie grimaced at the dark clouds boiling up in the western sky. They'd stolen the last of the light that clung to the horizon, and night was closing in fast. She nudged the accelerator down a fraction.

  “My nanny isn't gonna be there,” Annabelle reported, changing the subject on a dime the way only a kid could. “Uncle Vane said you said she was nice, but she wasn't.”

  Maggie gripped the steering wheel tighter to keep from swerving off the road. “You mean Helen?” Vane had emailed her last month asking for a list of recommendations for a new nanny for Annabelle. “I thought she was nice.” A lot nicer than the drill sergeant Vane had originally hired, anyway. Maggie still had to hide her laughter when Annabelle referred to her as Stompy McSnitface.

  “I guess she was,” Annabelle said airily. “But I didn't want her to watch me so I scared her away.”

  Maggie swallowed hard. “Annabelle,” she intoned in her best teacher voice. “What did you do?”

  “I put a frog in her bed!” She burst into peals of laughter. “She screamed so loud, just like in that movie! It was classic!”

  “It wasn't classic, it was mean, Annabelle. I expected better from you.”

  She looked in the rearview again. Annabelle was scowling fiercely. “I don't want a nanny,” she declared and crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Oh boy,” Maggie whispered under her breath. Poor Helen. She was a lovely woman. Maybe that was the problem, she was too kind- hearted.

  She hoped whoever Vane hired next had more grit. And didn't mind the occasional rogue amphibian.

  * * *

  She didn't know what she'd been expecting. When Vane had said “historic home,” she'd pictured a sprawling manor house straight out of Downton Abbey. Then he'd said “beach house,” and she pictured a tumble-down cottage sand-blasted by storms. It was neither of those.

  “This is your Uncle Vane's beach house?” she asked Annabelle.

  The ten-year-old shrugged sleepily. “I think so. Uncle Vane says I came here when I was four, but I don't remember. It looks like a gingerbread house.”

  Maggie slowed to turn into the circular drive. “It definitely does,” she agreed, taking in the stately Victorian home in front of her. From the ornately carved trim to the wide, welcoming front porch, it radiated expensive, yet restrained taste. It was also surprisingly modest in size. Certainly not a palatial estate befitting a billionaire of Vane's means. It was almost... homey.

  She found herself smiling as she put the car in park. It reminded her keenly of one of the places she and her mother had stayed. Winters in beachside towns were always quiet, and that particular winter, Maggie's only source of entertainment had been to follow the owner of the bed and breakfast around as he made his repairs before the season started. She'd shared his lunch of peanut butter and jelly—something she'd never had before thanks to her mother's adherence to a macrobiotic diet—on a porch a lot like this one. Then, with her belly full of forbidden white bread and allergens, she'd asked one question after another until the owner had relented and gotten her a kid-sized toolbox of her own. She'd learned everything she could about home repair that season, preparing, in her little-kid mind, for the day she and her mom would stop moving around so much and settle down in a place just like that one.

  They'd never settled down, of course. And, Maggie told herself, it was for the best. She was the kind of person who needed to keep moving.

  Annabelle needed stability, though. Maggie still wasn't sure spending the summer in a strange house was the best idea for her. But her apprehensions scattered when she saw the porch light switch on and Vane step out onto the porch.

  He was tall, with the broad shoulders and long, loose build of a swimmer. Seeing him fold his massive frame into a child-sized desk in her classroom had made her feel as off kilter as the deep green fire of his gaze. He was all intensity; even the way he stood on the porch now, with his feet planted hip-width apart and his muscular forearms crossed over his broad chest, gave Maggie a feeling of deliberateness. Vane McClellan felt... permanent. Solid, real, and intense. Even his smile, and the deeply carved groove of a dimple on his left cheek, gave off the sense that he'd chosen to bestow it on her. And that it was an honor not too many people received.

  Maggie's mouth went dry. She tore her gaze away from him, aware she'd been staring much too long. “There's your Uncle Vane!” she crowed to Annabelle. A fat raindrop smacked her in the back as she hurried around the side door to stand with the girl. “Are you going to say hi?'

  “She doesn't need to,” Vane said. Maggie startled to have him suddenly so close. “Did you have fun?”

  Maggie blushed and was about to stammer out an answer when she realized he was talking to Annabelle. And blushed even harder.

  “Yeah!” Annabelle sighed, accepting his shoulder pat with a wry smile. “I rode the roller coaster six times in a row and almost barfed.” She looked up at Vane, as if waiting for him to react in shock.

  He clutched dramatically at his heart. “You're way braver than I am.”

  Annabelle nodded as if that was just a given. “I know, Uncle Vane. Your shirt is getting all wet, by the way.” With that she hurried into the house.

  Maggie giggled. “She does have keen powers of observation. Oh!” A rumble of thunder rolled across the sky, echoing off the water.

  “Come in,” Vane urged as the rain began to fall in earnest.

  Maggie bit her lip. “I should be getting back on the road.” She glanced back towards the house, and then at Annabelle, who lingered in the safety of the doorway. Maggie bounced on her toes fretfully. Leaving was harder than she'd thought it would be. “So, you're spending the summer here together? Annabelle told me about what happened with Helen. Have you found a new nanny yet?”

  Vane pressed his lips together in a tight grimace. A raindrop dripped down the end of his nose, and he flicked it away, irritated. “Not yet.”

  Curiosity got the better of Maggie, and she hurriedly followed him into the house. She squeezed the water from the ends of her hair as another clap of thunder made the house shake. "Do you need another recommendation?" she pressed Vane. It felt vitally important that she not leave until she knew Annabelle was set for the summer.

  “No, thank you. I'm on it." He paused and narrowed his eyes at Annabelle, who grinned sweetly. “Your recommendation was...fine."

  "But she couldn't take a joke," Annabelle added, looking quite pleased with herself.

  Vane grimaced. "Don't start, Annabelle." He raked his fingers through his dark hair. "To be honest, this renovation has taken up a lot of my bandwidth. I thought...” He spread his hands. “I figured that I could watch her myself for a while. At least till we find the right one.” His expression softened as he looked at Annabelle again. “I'm her guardian, after all. Someone, somewhere along the line, figured I was the best one to take on that role.”

  The soft, squishy, puppy-squealing, and dying-houseplants-rescuing part of Maggie insisted this was totally cute and heartwarming. But the teacher part, the one who was always on the alert for what was best for her students, bristled. “Are you sure that's best?” She smiled brightly at Annabelle. “Hey, can you go give us a moment? Grown-up talk.”

  Once she was safely out of earshot, Maggie turned back to Vane with vehemence. “Look, I know you're trying to do the best you can.”

  “You do?” Vane said dryly. “Could have fooled me.”

  “That's not the point. The point is that Annabelle needs someone who can open her up. Help her work through her issues and give her one-on-one attention. Seriously, Vane, she's not where she should be socially.”

  He folded his arms across his chest. She lifted her chin and refused to break eye contact. Just because he was tall and handsome and broodily magnetic, and had a deep, commanding voice that she swore she could feel down to her toes, didn't mean he could try to intimidate her. She folded her own arms over her chest and waited for her point to sink in.

  Lighting flas
hed at the same time that thunder boomed. Vane broke eye contact first, to her triumph, and looked at the front window. “Damn,” he muttered.

  She gave into the urge to look, too. “Oh,” she breathed.

  The rain slanted sideways against the wide, leaded-glass windows. The landscape had been smeared away into a featureless swirl of gray and black. Driving back in this was going to be hell, she realized, then cursed herself for staying here as long as she had.

  But... Annabelle.

  “I'm wondering if you really—” A deafening clap of thunder rattled the house, and they were immediately plunged into darkness. “Oh!” Maggie yelped. Suddenly blind, she wheeled around and reached out for the wall to steady herself.

  No wall was that warm. Or solid feeling. “Hey, you're okay,” Vane soothed. He gripped her hand and pulled her close to him. “Just a power outage.”

  Maggie swallowed hard. His arm was heavy and soothing around her shoulders. More soothing than it had any right to be. Without thinking, she turned inward, wrapping herself more tightly in his comforting presence.

  That's when a wail rose up from the hallway. A high, inhuman cry of pure panic.

  Vane dropped his arm immediately. “Annabelle!” he called, “Don't worry, I'll get you a light!”

  Maggie stood stock still, stranded in the unfamiliar darkness. She tried to guess from the sounds what was happening. Quick footsteps retreating down the hall. A rustle and then a clatter, and all the while Annabelle's screams wrenched her heart.

  “I got it!” Vane called. A beam of light pierced the darkness. He flung open the bathroom door and dropped the light as he fell to his knees.

  Two shadows, one big and one small, embraced on the wall behind their forms. Maggie swallowed hard and wiped at her eyes.

  “It's okay,” Vane soothed. “I've got the light. Here, want to hold it?”

  Annabelle clutched the flashlight to her chest. Vane nodded and then turned on a second one and shone it on Maggie. “If the power's out, that means the bridge will be out, too. There's no way to get off the island for the time being.” The corner of his mouth quirked up. “I guess that means you'll be spending the night.”

  3

  Maggie stretched out under the covers and took a deep breath. Vane had called this the “guest room” with an ironic smile as he shoved a stack of cardboard boxes against the wall. “Sorry about the accommodations,” he'd said more than once. “Everything is all jumbled up with the renovation.”

  Maggie felt pretty jumbled up herself. She closed her eyes and rolled onto her side, willing sleep to overtake her. One night. She just needed a place to stay for the night. And maybe in the morning, Vane would work out the nanny situation and she could leave with her conscience crystal clear. Exhaling deeply, she nodded to herself. Yes. It would all work out in the morning. This was just a bump in the road.

  Sleep was just starting to take hold when a piercing scream made her sit bolt upright in bed. “Annabelle?” she called, immediately dropping all her worries about tomorrow. Her favorite student was screaming her head off. Why?

  “I'm coming!' she called. Leaping from the bed, she sprinted down a random hallway, heart in her throat. Why was she screaming? “I'm coming, Annabelle!” she shouted.

  “No, you're not!” a voice hissed in the dark. Right as she ran smack into Vane's outstretched arm and fell back.

  “What are you doing? Get out of the way, she needs help!” She shoved in vain at his arm. “Stop it!”

  “I know how to handle this,” Vane growled. “Stay there.” He poked his head into the bedroom. Inside, Annabelle sobbed and thrashed. Maggie moved instinctually to help her, but Vane stopped her again. “I said stay there. Hey, Annabelle?”

  Annabelle screamed and rolled away, hammering her feet against the wall.

  “Back off,” he warned Maggie.

  “What's happening to her?”

  Vane just pinched the bridge of his nose as Annabelle screamed on and on.

  Slowly the pieces fell into place. “Is she asleep?” Maggie asked.

  “Yes. Night terrors.” The set of his jaw was grim.

  “Can't you wake her up?” She bit her nail in agony. “This is awful!'

  “I know. But the doctor said waking her would make them worse.”

  “You talked to her doctor about this?”

  He looked at her sharply. “Of course, I did.”

  “Does this happen every night?”

  His eyes blazed. “Of course not.” Then his face fell. “It did at first. But she's been so much better—almost two months since the last attack. Sometimes my voice helps. But other times, like you see, it just makes it worse.” He put his hand on her shoulder and gave Maggie a gentle shove. “Come on, let's give her space.”

  Maggie allowed him to steer her out into the hallway, but when Annabelle's screams turned to moans, she couldn't stand it any longer. “Honey!” she cried, ducking under Vane's arm and rushing to Annabelle's side. “Honey, shush. Shhh, it's okay.” She touched the girl's sweaty forehead. “Ssshhh,” she soothed.

  Annabelle stiffened like she'd been touched with electricity. She stopped moaning and turned her face into Maggie's hand. She let out a long, breath...

  And was quiet.

  Vane grunted from the doorway. “That's never happened before.”

  Maggie jerked her hand back. “I'm sorry, I just couldn't bear to see—”

  “It's fine. Of course, it's fine. Jesus, thank you.”

  Warmth spread through Maggie's stomach. “Of course. Should we go back to bed or wait?”

  Vane looked into Annabelle’s bedroom, then nodded. “I think it's okay to go back to bed. She's out.” He glanced at Maggie again. “Thank you.”

  She grinned. His gratitude made her feel like she was glowing. She touched her face as she retreated to her cramped room. The heat in her cheeks was embarrassing and made her flush all the hotter.

  “I helped,” she whispered to the empty room, before curling up under the covers.

  She was asleep in seconds.

  Maggie jerked awake a second time. Confused, she leaped from her bed and ran smack into a stack of boxes, sending them tumbling to the floor. Annabelle was screaming again.

  Vane was already at Annabelle's bedside, shushing her over and over again. He stroked her forehead, and then ducked away from her flailing limbs. “Let me try,” Maggie begged, dropping to her knees next to him. “Annabelle, honey, shhh, it's okay.”

  Annabelle kicked out hard. Maggie jerked her head back, but not fast enough. The girl's heel caught her under the chin, making her teeth clack together and her eyes water.

  “Shit, you okay?” Vane asked, steadying her before she fell back.

  “Yeah.” She shook her head and grimaced. “Sadly, that's not the first time a student has kicked me in the face. Annabelle honey, shhhh.”

  Vane shook his head. “It's not working this time.” He gripped Maggie's arms and gently helped her to her feet. “Gotta wait it out.”

  "How did you deal with this when it happened every night?" Annabelle's screams tore at her heart. "That must have been awful."

  “You could say that.” He sighed and looked up at the ceiling. “But they tapered. The nights got better, but then the days got worse. She's run off two nannies, and I think the word has gotten out because I can't find a third. I was fudging the truth a bit when I said I hadn't started looking yet. Truth is, I've exhausted every angle I have.” He ran his tongue along his bottom teeth. “I'm... starting to wonder if I'm the right person for her.” His voice caught.

  Without thinking, Maggie wrapped her arms around him. He stiffened in her embrace, then slowly, by degrees, he relaxed against her and sighed into her neck.

  She pressed her head to his shoulder. She'd always been a hugger. Human connection wasn't only through words, and sometimes words couldn't say all she wanted to say. But as she pressed herself against Vane, what started as just a desire to comfort gave way to desire for... some
thing else.

  He turned his head so that his lips grazed her neck. One hand traveled up her back until it cupped the back of her neck possessively. She gasped as his other hand slid down, and she rose up on her toes.

  Then pulled back with a gasp. If sleeping here was inappropriate, then pressing herself against him was downright scandalous. She held out her hands to ward him off. But either he misinterpreted her gesture or was too far gone, because instead of backing up like she expected, he entwined his fingers with hers and dropped his head. “I just... need someone she can count on. Just for a bit. Buy me some time to figure it out.”

  Seeing him open and vulnerable like this was almost as upsetting as Annabelle's cries. She wanted to jerk her hands away, but found herself twining their fingers more tightly together.

  “But you're that someone,” she exhorted him, pumping their joined hands up and down as she made her point. “For better or worse, you are her person. Her guardian. You have to have more confidence in yourself, Vane. You already care for her so deeply, I can see that, you just—” She caught herself as the idea overtook her. It was brilliant, actually. The perfect solution to everything. “You need someone she trusts as backup.” She licked her lips and smiled. “She trusts me.”

  Vane dropped her hands. “What are you saying?”

  “I could be the nanny,” she blurted. “Your backup. You could feel comfortable knowing you have another adult around while you get your bearings.”

  “That is... an incredible offer—”

  “It's only for a month,” she cautioned. “I want to go on one more vacation before I take my new position.”

  “Six weeks,” he blurted.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I want to hire you for six weeks, not just a month. The renovations will be over by then.”

  Maggie narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, I don't know if that's going to—” A piercing scream from Annabelle cut her off mid-sentence. She and Vane both spun around in the doorway. Vane clapped his hand over his mouth, the corners of his eyes creased with pain.