A Man of Character, page 1
A Man of Character
Margaret Locke
Locked on Love
Contents
A Man of Character
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Epilogue
A Matter of Time
A Scandalous Matter
The Demon Duke
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Get A Locke On Love
Thank You for Reading
For Brett.
My very own knight in shining armor.
Prologue
Charlottesville, Virginia – Spring 2001
Frank Schreiber examined the book in his hands, a satisfied grunt escaping his lips as his fingers trailed over the spine. “A pretty good job, if I do say so myself,” he murmured, pleased at how well the binding job had come out. The plain black cover with its simple lettering disguised the inner contents well.
“You doing okay, Dad?”
He glanced up. His youngest daughter, Catherine, stood at the entrance to the bookstore, humor lighting her face.
She nodded toward the stack of books at his elbow. “Lost in your treasures again, huh?”
You have no idea, honey. “I’m great! How could I not be, surrounded by so many goodies?”
She laughed as she pushed her hair out of her eyes. “Why did I even ask? Hey, I’m picking up Mom and we’re going to grab something to eat. Wanna come?”
“No, no.” He waved her on with his hand. “I already ate. You guys have fun. I’ll see you when you get home.”
“I’m betting you won’t notice we’re gone.”
“You know me too well. But I’ll notice. It’s a lot quieter in here without you chattering females around. Perfect for reading.” He laughed out loud when he caught Cat’s faux outraged expression. “You know I speak the truth.”
Her eyes softened as she turned the doorknob. “Yeah, whatever. Love you, Dad,” she called, as she walked out into the late afternoon sunshine.
“Love you, too, Catey. Always.”
Turning back to the book in his hands, he opened it and surveyed the inside pages. Gorgeous. Simply stunning. He didn’t believe the legend his grandmother had told him about the book; that was clearly nonsense her grandmother must have told her, a myth passed down through generations. But given its age, he didn’t doubt the value of its contents. He’d dutifully guarded it, rebinding the pages when the ancient bindings gave way. Better to have it in a secure house, he reasoned. He liked the idea that such an ordinary exterior could house such riches. Just like people.
“Give it to Cat when she’s twenty-five,” his grandmother had said all those years ago. “Promise me. She’s the one.”
Frank had nodded. His second-born daughter, although only seven then, seemed the most likely to share his passion for the written word.
“Why twenty-five?”
Her eyes had twinkled. “It’s how it’s done.”
He’d pressed his grandmother for more information, but she’d remained tight-lipped, saying only that Cat would eventually understand.
He couldn’t believe his youngest child would hit that magical age in a few months. Twenty-five. His baby, grown up and out in the world.
He frowned. At least he wanted her out in the world, more than she currently was. Submerging oneself in books wasn’t a bad thing, of course—he was guilty of that himself. But he had his beautiful Grace. He had someone with whom he was sharing his life, someone who reminded him to come back to the real world once in a while.
“I hope you find love, my Catey girl,” he whispered. “It’s the greatest treasure of them all.”
God, had he really just said that? He was going soft in his old age.
Whistling, he set the book down, jotted a quick note, and stuck it inside the cover. Then he wrapped the book in the plain brown mailing paper they kept near the cash register and scrawled her name across the front. Setting the book back into the box, he carefully stacked other titles around it for safekeeping until her birthday.
“I’ll tell her, Grannie.” He’d even tell Cat the absurd claims his grandmother had made about it. For now, at least, it was well protected, as she’d asked.
He hauled the heavy box to the storage closet under the stairs.
Heading back to the main room, he wiped his hand across the beads of sweat that had formed on his forehead. I’m getting old, if one box of books has me breathing this hard.
As he walked to the staircase to head upstairs, sharp pain shot across his ribcage. He grabbed the stair railing to steady himself, his other hand flying to his heart. Large dots floated at the edge of his vision. Daggers ripped through his chest as his lungs seized.
No. Oh, no, no, no. He collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath. I should have told you, Catey. I should have told you.
All went black.
Chapter 1
Charlottesville, Virginia - Fall 2011
The last thing Catherine wanted to do was talk about men. She didn’t need to think about anything except the bookstore, especially on today of all days. But she’d promised to rehash her roommate Eliza’s date from the night before, so with a sigh she placed her standard coffee order and prepared herself for what was to come.
“Vente latte, skim milk, with a shot of butterscotch.” Cat stood back to let Eliza order.
“Double espresso and, um, a slice of that crumb cake. Although I shouldn’t.” Eliza smoothed her hands over her round hips. She flashed a self-conscious smile at the barista as she fumbled in her large, floppy shoulder bag for cash.
After paying for their drinks, the two women sat down in their usual booth next to the front window. Normally Cat loved the open view, but the steady gray October rain wasn’t doing anything to help her attitude this morning.
“So, how’d it go with Jeff?” Cat asked, forcing a smile. She shouldn’t let her own rotten mood dampen Eliza’s spirits. It wasn’t Eliza’s fault. Nobody was to blame but ... She closed her eyes, determined to rid herself of any thoughts of him. “I couldn’t sleep and heard you come in late. I’m assuming that means things went well?”
Eliza wrinkled her nose. “He was nice. We ate at that new Italian place on the Ped Mall. It was wonderful, and the tiramisu was to die for.” She took a quick bite of cake before continuing. “We talked about grad school. Did I tell you he’s getting his masters in history?”
Cat shook her head, savoring the warmth of the coffee mug cradled in her hands. She breathed in the heavenly scent, grateful for its calming effect.
“We had a great time talking. And he was nice. He just wasn’t ...” Eliza paused to lick bits of cake off her fingers.
“Just wasn’t Darcy?” Her friend’s passion for all things English included a love affair with Jane Austen, especially Pride and Prejudice.
Eliza stiffened. “Don’t we all want a Darcy? Besides, is hoping for a British accent such a bad thing?”
Cat shrugged. “Not at all,” she said in the best Queen Elizabeth impression she could muster. Losing the accent, she added, “You might be looking for love, but I am not. You know I haven’t had the best of luck in that area. Men aren’t exactly beating down my door.”
“That’s because you’re not willing to open it. You let one bad relationship sour you on the whole idea,” Eliza retorted. “I know what today is, Cat. I know it marks six years.” She took another sip of her coffee, gazing with sympathetic eyes over the cup’s rim. “I’m sorry about Ryan. He was a jerk.”
Cat’s stomach tightened at his name. She hated how she still reacted to the mention of him, how she struggled through this day every year. He’d ruined October for her, once her favorite month. Hell, he’d ruined everything.
Most of the time she was fine. Weeks passed, sometimes months now, in which that part of her life didn’t register. But he’d left her scarred, a deep emotional branding. Fear of having to endure that kind of hurt again kept her from opening up. She’d had enough loss in her life, thank you very much.
If she were honest, though, she’d admit loneliness crept into more and more of her days ... and nights. Fear couldn’t hold her hand. Fear couldn’t rub her shoulders when she was tired or snuggle with her in the early morning. And fear didn’t silence the longing scratching at that part of her she’d locked away. She wasn’t quite sure what she was longing for. It wasn’t a man. Was it? No relationship was worth risking what was left of her heart, right?
“Six years is a long time,” Eliza added in a soft voice. “Aren’t you the tiniest bit interested?” She motioned around the room. “I bet there’s at least one guy in here right now who’d love to go out with you, if you’d just make yourself approachable.”
Cat surveyed the room. She loved this old coffee shop with its eclectic furnishings and low-key atmosphere. Today it housed a mostly younger crowd: college students buzzing up on caffeine before classes, a few moms sipping coffee while trying to entertain babies in strollers. The hum of conversation surrounded them, a sound that always soothed her. An older woman read a novel in the corner, and at a stool near the side window, a man typed on a laptop.
“No, I’m most definitely not interested. I don’t want to go through it all again, and I’ve got bigger concerns, anyway.”
She gestured toward the man at the laptop. “Plus, he’s the only one here close to my age. Not a lot of choices for women in their thirties, you know. Single choices, at least.”
Eliza turned to assess him. Whipping her head back toward Cat, she whispered, “He’s cute. And now he’s looking at you.”
Sure enough, the man had raised his head and was watching Catherine with a quizzical expression. He was rather handsome, Cat conceded. His rich chestnut hair cropped close to his head emphasized his cheekbones and nicely shaped lips. From this distance, she could make out a slight cleft in his chin. As she tried to surmise the color of his eyes, his eyebrows raised in silent inquiry.
“Do you think he knows we’re talking about him?” Eliza shoved another bite of cake into her mouth.
Heat raced to Cat’s cheeks. “He does now.” She shot him a small, embarrassed smile.
He offered a quick grin in return, but then looked over at an auburn-haired woman who’d stopped next to his table. His face lit up as he sprang from his seat, enfolding the woman in a tight embrace. The fleeting streak of jealousy that coursed through her caught Cat by surprise. No. She didn’t want anyone. She didn’t need anyone. Her books were enough. Well, her books and Eliza.
“And apparently he’s already taken.” She jumped from her seat, pushing thoughts of men—all men—firmly away. “We should get back. You know the crowds will be rioting with pitchforks if we don’t open.”
Eliza nodded and stood up. “Let me just get a quick refill.”
As Eliza moved off to the counter, Cat stole a peek at the laptop man. He was laughing at something the woman said. She envied the easy sense of familiarity the couple exuded. What would it be like to have that again?
The man’s eyes darted toward her, and his eyebrows wrinkled in puzzlement. He watched her for a second before turning his attention back to his companion. The woman didn’t seem to notice.
Cat wanted to die of embarrassment, having been caught for a second time staring at the man—by the man. She was grateful for Eliza’s cheery chatter as her friend returned. They headed out, opening their umbrellas against the downpour.
Across the street sat a large brick Victorian-era home with numerous turrets and a wide, welcoming staircase leading to a wrap-around porch. It was a gorgeous home, a mansion in its day, but it showed its age. Paint peeled off near the upper left window frame, and the steps needed refinishing. The small sign hanging over the staircase read Treasure Trove Booksellers. The name and the grinning pirate next to it were rather corny in her opinion, but Dad had insisted, “There be no greater treasure than a book—unless it be yer imagination, me Catey! Arrr!”
Oh, how she missed him. It’d been far too long since he’d stood at the top of the steps, inviting all pirates and landlubbers inside to seek their fortune in a book’s pages.
Her mind on the store, she didn’t notice the Camaro zipping down the road. As she was about to step into the street, the car hit a large puddle, drenching her in water. Cat sputtered as dirty streams dripped from her hair and down her legs.
Eliza burst out laughing. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t. But oh my God, you should see your face. You look so ... so ...”
Cat glared down the road at the taillights retreating in the distance. “What a jerk!” She brushed water from her jacket. “Be thankful you were behind me.”
“Hey, wait, he’s backing up.”
Cat peered through her dripping bangs as the car made its way in reverse towards them. “He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t cause an accident. Come on.” She grabbed Eliza’s arm and tugged her across the street.
“Excuse me,” a voice called after them.
Cat turned halfway up the stairs to the bookstore as a man hopped out of the Camaro. He jogged across the street and up the bottom steps.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t see the puddle before it was too late to avoid it.” He held his hand out to Cat. “I’m Derrick. Derrick Gibson.” When she ignored his hand, he stuck it in the pocket of his leather bomber jacket. “I’ll pay to get your clothes cleaned.”
His longish dark brown hair fell into earnest hazel eyes. No doubt that charming, apologetic grin on his face allowed him to get away with murder. Tiny lines around his eyes suggested he was somewhere in his thirties. Wasn’t that too old to be driving a Camaro? Who drove Camaros anymore, anyway?
“That’s not necessary.” Her wet skin left her feeling itchy and wanting nothing more than to get inside and change.
“Then let me take you to drinks and dinner to make up for it. It’s the least I can do.”
Cat’s eyes widened. Even when she didn’t resemble a drowned rat, she wasn’t the kind of woman who generally turned men’s heads. Eliza was, for all she complained about that extra twenty pounds. Eliza’s blonde hair, deep blue eyes, and bubbly personality drew men left and right.
But Cat? She liked her own face with its strong angles and her gray eyes so like her mother’s, and her brown hair, which gained red highlights in the sun. But she was never going to win against Eliza in a beauty competition. Plus, according to her friends, Cat gave off a distinct touch-me-not air.
“No thanks. I’ll dry out just fine.”
“Oh, come on, Cat,” Eliza broke in. “You can at least accept dinner off the man. What could it hurt?”
Derrick flashed a grateful grin toward Eliza. “Wonderful.” He looked back at Cat. “How about Friday at 7:00, Miss...?”
“Catherine Schreiber. And no. No, thank you, I don’t care to go out with you, Mr. Gibson.” She grabbed a clump of hair and squeezed the excess water out of it. “Maybe you should ask Eliza here.”
Eliza’s cheeks turned pink even as she frowned.
“What?” Cat said. “You’re looking. I’m not. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” With that, she raced up the remaining steps, unlocked the front door, and sailed through it into her escape.
Chapter 2
Cat pushed the door closed behind her, desperate to shut out all that had happened in the last few minutes. What was up with Eliza, pimping her out like that? Her friend had made her sound desperate for a date. Which she most decidedly wasn’t. She didn’t want to date anyone, much less a man who’d nearly drowned her.
The image of the laptop guy darted through her mind. Ugh. What was wrong with her today?
The door opened and slammed closed.
“What was that?” demanded an angry voice from behind her.
Eliza stood in the doorway, glaring at her. Cat’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. But you shouldn’t have tried to force the issue, either.”
Eliza grimaced. She hung her umbrella on a hook behind the door before walking over to Cat. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry. But I was excited for you. I mean, really, he was good-looking. And interested.”
Cat sighed. “He felt guilty. Not interested.”
“Oh, no. He was definitely interested. Once you fled, he asked me what he could do to get you to agree to a date, that he felt like he had to get to know you.”
“He did?” A small part of her wanted to preen from the unexpected attention. Where had that come from? “It doesn’t matter. I don’t want a date.” She shrugged off her coat and hung it with the umbrella next to Eliza’s.
