She sincerely hoped that, wherever they were, the two women were together now.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Casper was the one to change the subject. “Why did you break into your own house and then Remy’s apartment?”

  The other man’s nostrils flared. “Gina refused to tell me what she’d done with the money. I was looking for some sort of paperwork for a bank account with half a million pounds in it. When I didn’t find it at the house, I thought it might be at Remy’s apartment.”

  Remy knew absolutely nothing about half a million pounds or the bank account it was in.

  “I’m guessing you didn’t find it there either,” Sinclair drawled, with a pointed look at the other man’s disheveled appearance.

  “No, but it has to be somewhere. Half a million pounds doesn’t just disappear.” Her father’s eyes glittered with avarice.

  “Is money all you care about?” Felix, despite being the accountant, frowned his disapproval.

  The other man gave a scornful snort. “What else is there?”

  Sinclair eyed him disgustedly. “Are you in debt to the Russians again?”

  “The Romanians have largely taken over the gambling establishments in London.”

  “Then you’re in debt to them?” Darius pressed.

  “By a couple of hundred thou,” her father dismissed. “A couple of evenings winning at the roulette table and I could easily pay that back.”

  “Then why didn’t you?” Malachi reasoned.

  “Because there’s half a mill sitting in a bank account somewhere that belongs to me.” The glitter in Ralph’s eyes didn’t look quite sane.

  “And when you’re locked in a cage and the key thrown away, I will be happy to ensure it all goes to Remy,” Casper taunted.

  “In that case, I hope you never find it.” Her father’s scathing gaze raked over her from her head to her feet. “I’ve never been able to see a single one of my genes in the little do-gooder you turned out to be.”

  “Make up your mind,” she scorned. “I’m either a do-gooder or I’m a whore.”

  “You’re both,” he dismissed harshly. “You’re your mother through and through.”

  Remy refused to let him see how much the verbal attack on her mother upset her. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “It wasn’t meant as one.”

  She shook her head. “You once loved Mama to the point of obsession.”

  “And now I hate her,” he stated calmly. “I guess love really is a double-edged sword that can so easily turn to hate.” He shrugged. “She had her chance to give me the money, and she chose not to take it.”

  Remy had heard enough, more than enough. She didn’t give a damn what her father thought or said about her, but killing Cathy and her beloved mama and an innocent man, in that cold and heartless way, was unforgiveable. Even worse, it was obvious from everything her father said that he felt no regret for anything he’d done, including killing those three people.

  She turned on her heel and walked out of the dungeon and up the stairs. As far as she was concerned, she never wanted to set eyes on her father ever again.

  Sinclair caught up with Remy as she let herself back into his suite. He followed her into the sitting room to clasp her arms and pull her back against his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

  She relaxed against him. “You have absolutely nothing to be sorry about. It’s a little shocking to realize your own father is probably a psychopath, but at least we all heard him say what really happened. Let’s leave the police to deal with him and get on with our own lives.”

  “Shall I instruct Casper to start looking for your mother’s bank account?”

  “I have a feeling he doesn’t need to.” She pulled away from him to walk to where her rucksack lay beneath the coffee table. “I told you Mama gave me a new laptop for my birthday on the evening before they went on holiday to Wales, and how angry my father was.” She unzipped one of the sections of her backpack and took out the shiny new laptop. “I’ve been too upset to use it because it had caused an argument between Mama and my father, so I carried on using my old one from uni. The old laptop finally gave up working altogether a couple of weeks ago, but as school was finished for the summer, I still didn’t feel comfortable using the new one.”

  “But you carried it around with you anyway.”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “In the same way I couldn’t leave their house after it was broken into, I’ve wanted to keep Mama’s gift close to me, even if I couldn’t bring myself to use it.”

  “But you now believe Gina may have left information on there pertaining to where she’d put the money from her inheritance?” Sinclair guessed shrewdly.

  “My father wrecked their home and my apartment looking for evidence the account existed.” She opened the laptop and switched it on, sure she was right when it automatically logged in to the contents. Something Remy certainly hadn’t set up. “If he didn’t find the money in either of those two places, then it has to be— Oh, Mama,” she groaned when she saw the name of the single file saved to the desktop: Remy’s inheritance.

  Sinclair stepped closer to her, his hand reassuring on her shoulder as she opened the file.

  “It’s all there,” she realized shakily. “Almost five hundred thousand pounds. I’m guessing the withdrawal of three thousand was for my new laptop.” She looked up at Sinclair, tears blurring her vision. “My father killed his own sister, his wife, and an innocent man, the first out of possessiveness and the second two out of greed.” Her voice broke as she turned to bury her face against Sinclair’s chest.

  Those few minutes alone were the only ones they had for a while. The police arrived a short time later. When they left again several hours later, they took a handcuffed and unrepentant Ralph Mitchell with them.

  Sinclair had remained at Remy’s side for the whole of the time the police questioned her father.

  Now the two of them were finally alone together in Sinclair’s suite, Remy having dropped down on the couch before she fell down, Sinclair standing by the window, staring broodingly outside.

  “Sinclair?” Remy prompted uncertainly when she felt the silence between them had dragged on too long to be comfortable. “Would you like me to leave now that the danger has passed and there’s no longer a reason for me to stay here?”

  He turned abruptly. “There’s no longer a reason for you to stay?” he echoed harshly.

  She winced. “I’m trying to give you an out here.”

  He crossed the room in three long strides. “What if I don’t want a fucking out?”

  She eyed him uncertainly. “You don’t?”

  “No, I don’t.” He bent to grasp her hands in his and pull her to her feet before taking her into his arms. “I know it’s probably too soon to say this, but I don’t ever want you to leave.”

  She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue. “No?”

  His expression softened. “Even the thought of it wrecks me.”

  “Then I won’t leave,” she assured, her heart pounding.

  He nodded abruptly. “Good.”

  “On one condition,” she teased.

  Sinclair tilted is head, his expression becoming rueful. “Which is?”

  “I want to stay in this suite. With you. In your bed,” she added so there could be absolutely no mistaking her meaning.

  “Our suite,” Sinclair corrected huskily. “Our bed.”

  Her heart leapt. “Yeah?”

  “Yes.”

  “In that case, can I add some color to these rooms?” she teased to break the tension between them. “’Cause, not going to lie, the whole monochrome thing does absolutely nothing for me.”

  Sinclair laughed, as Remy hoped he might. “You can hang rainbow-colored curtains and lay a bright red carpet throughout, as long as you stay here. With me.”

  “Always,” she assured.

  He looked at her searchingly before speaking again. “Remy, I…I…”

  “You don’t have to say anything else,” she assured huskily as she placed her fingertips against his lips. “We have time. All the time you need. But I want you to know, while you’re taking that time, that I’ve always loved you. I know without a doubt that I will always love you. You’re my One, Sinclair. You always have been.”

  His chest swelled as he drew in a deep breath, pale blue eyes no longer cold, but gleaming with a much warmer emotion. “Despite the circumstances, these past few days with you have been magical. I don’t need time.” His arms tightened about her. “I already know that I love you. Everything about you and everything that you will become. I love your warmth, your kindness, and the unique and fiery passion we share.” He gave a decisive nod. “I love you, Remy. I may have had to wait a long time for you, but I know you’re my One too.”

  There was nothing more to say.

  Remy loved and was loved in return.

  Sinclair loved and was loved in return.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Eighteen months later…

  * * *

  “Sinclair, you have to stop pacing,” Remy chided affectionately, lying on the couch in their now blue-and-gold-colored sitting room, watching her husband as his long legs ate up the distance between the two walls. “I’m getting dizzy watching you, and you’ll wear a hole in the new carpet.”

  He scowled. “You’re having pains that might be labor, and the baby isn’t due for another five weeks.”

  “He won’t be the first premature baby,” she teased, hands resting protectively on her “bump.” “And five weeks really isn’t that early.”

  “He?” Sinclair echoed sharply. “I thought we said no when they asked if we wanted to know the baby’s sex when you had your scans?”

  Scans he had attended with her, as he had attended all the doctor’s appointments, too. In fact, Sinclair hadn’t let her out of his sight after she’d told him she was pregnant.

  She understood why he was being so protective. Of course she did. Which was why she was remaining calm right now, so that Sinclair would stop freaking out about the cramps she’d been having for most of the day that might or might not be labor pains. It was more likely they were Braxton Hicks, known as false labor.

  “We didn’t,” she soothed. “It’s just easier to say him rather than it.” She wrinkled her nose in disapproval of using a word so impersonal to describe their much-wanted and loved son or daughter.

  The two of them had lived together for all of three months before Sinclair got down on one knee and asked her to marry him. Her answer had been, yes. Hell, yes.

  During that same three months, her father had been charged with kidnapping and accomplice to murder, with an additional two murders.

  Several doctors had examined him and unanimously decided he wasn’t a psychopath or mentally ill, but was instead a cold, obsessive, and vicious man.

  Six months ago, he’d been found guilty of all charges—mainly because he continued to enjoy boasting about what he’d done to anyone who would listen—and he was now serving a life sentence for each of those premeditated murders. In his case, the judge had ruled that a life sentence must mean exactly that, that her father was too dangerous to ever be released.

  Sinclair had helped Remy come to terms with what had happened, including assisting her in deciding to donate the money left to her by her mother, and on Gina’s behalf, to an organization that helped the victims of domestic abuse. Remy hadn’t wanted to keep it, and this was the perfect way to honor her mother’s memory.

  Remy only wanted to look toward the future now, with her beloved husband, their son or daughter, and any more children they might be blessed with.

  Sinclair was a deeply loving and attentive husband and lover, and Remy never took for granted how lucky she was that she was the woman he’d chosen to fall so deeply in love with.

  “You— Oh dear.” Remy gave a gasp as she felt a gush of liquid between her legs, proving it wasn’t Braxton Hicks, after all. “Darling, I think you had better ask Malachi to bring one of the SUVs round to the front of the house.” The family had all decided that when the time came, Malachi, being the most levelheaded of them, would be the one to drive Remy to the hospital. It would also take the pressure off Sinclair at a time when he was sure to be stressed. Win-win. “My water just broke,” she revealed apologetically.

  “Oh dear God.”

  She watched as a suddenly pale Sinclair, her usually calm and capable husband, went into complete panic mode. He first stepped toward her, then stopped, stepped forward again, then took out his cell phone and pressed the button for one of the numbers he kept on speed dial.

  His gaze remained fixed on her. “Red, Mal,” he bit out before ending the call.

  “That was it?” Remy felt like a beached whale as she tried to sit up.

  Sinclair shrugged as he placed an arm about her waist and helped her to her feet. “We’d already agreed on a code for when this happened.”

  Of course they had. The Kingston men never left anything to chance. “I need to change my dress and panties before we leave, and I’ve made a mess of the couch,” she sighed after glancing down and seeing how wet their gorgeous gold-colored couch now was.

  “We can replace it,” Sinclair dismissed. “Right now, I intend to help you change your clothes, and then we need to get you to the hospital so you can give birth to our beautiful baby.” His voice was gruff.

  Remy was equally as choked with emotion by the time they made it out of the house, and all the Kingston family who were at home came outside to wish them well.

  Malachi ensured they were both comfortable in the back of the vehicle before getting in behind the wheel and driving them to the hospital. All without saying a word.

  It felt to Remy as if she and Sinclair were in their own intimate little bubble. One of calm before the storm. “I love you so much.” She squeezed his hand.

  Sinclair’s other hand cupped the side of her face. “You’re the love of my life. My redemption.”

  Remy knew he didn’t mean that in a stopping-him-from-seeking-out-the-guilty-and-ensuring-they-paid-for-their-crimes way. How could she ever do that, when her own father had killed her mother? People like him deserve to be punished.

  Which was why Remy would never ask Sinclair to stop seeking justice for those who weren’t able to find it for themselves.

  No, she knew Sinclair’s words referred to the deep love they felt for each other and which had saved them both. Her love for Sinclair had rescued him from the loneliness and isolation his life had become, and Sinclair’s love for her had saved her from living a life without the man she had always, and would always, love.

  Tears fell unchecked down Sinclair’s cheeks when their daughter, Elizabeth Gina, was born a mere hour after they reached the hospital, weighing a healthy five pounds.

  He went into shock when their second daughter, Amelia Louise, also a healthy five pounds, was born just four minutes later, taking them all by surprise after having apparently been hiding behind her sister for all of Remy’s scans.

  Sinclair held a sweet-smelling daughter in each arm as he waited for the midwives to help Remy to freshen up after the birth and then assist her into a clean nightgown.

  He gave a shake of his head once Remy was settled. “I knew you were going to be a handful.” And he relished every damn minute that she was.

  Remy looked tired, but also beautifully euphoric now that the babies had been born safely. “I believe twins run on your side of the family, not mine.”

  “I love you so much,” he breathed shakily, overwhelmed with the emotions coursing through him.

  Deep love for Remy.

  Wonder and love for their two daughters.

  Anticipation and joy for the future he would spend with his three beautiful ladies.

  “I love you too.” Remy smiled at him as he placed the babies into her waiting arms. “Maybe we can have twin boys next time.”

  “What?” Sinclair straightened. “Could we please enjoy these two for a while before we have any more?”

  “A little while,” she teased.

  As long as Sinclair had Remy to love, and to know she loved him, he didn’t care how many children they had.

  Because together, they possessed a love so deep and strong, he knew it would sustain them, that it already had, through anything life might choose to throw at them.

  Even if that included them being gifted with half a dozen sets of twins!

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Carole Mortimer is a USA Today Bestselling Author and recipient of the RWA Nora Roberts Lifetime Achievement Award 2015, RT Career Achievement Award 2017, RT Pioneer for Romance Award 2014. She was also recognized by Queen Elizabeth II in 2012 for her ‘outstanding service to literature’. Carole has written over 275 contemporary, Regency and paranormal romance novels.