The Fall of Shane MacKade by Nora Roberts Read Free Book Online

would have merely seen a beautiful house, an inviting one, with its long double porches and delightful gardens. She would have wondered how it was furnished inside, what view she might have from the windows. She might have pondered a bit over who had lived there, what they had been, where they had gone.
    But she knew all that already. She had spent a great deal of time researching the original owners and their descendants.
    Now she was here, walking toward that inviting porch with Regan beside her. And her heart drummed in her breast.
    â€œIt’s really beautiful, Regan.”
    â€œYou should have seen it before.” Regan scanned the house, the land, with pride. “Poor old place, falling apart, broken windows, sagging porches. And inside…” She shook her head. “I have to say, even though he is my husband, Rafe has a real talent for seeing what could be, then making it happen.”
    â€œHe didn’t do it alone.”
    â€œNo.” Her lips curved as she reached for the door. “I did one hell of a job.” She opened the door. “See for yourself.”
    One hell of a job, Rebecca thought. Beautiful wide planked floors gleamed gold with polish and sunlight. Silk-covered walls, elegantly trimmed. Antiques, both delicate and majestic, were placed in a perfect harmony that looked too natural to have been planned.
    She turned into the doorway of the front parlor, with its curvy double-backed settee and Adam fireplace. Atop its carved pine mantel were gorgeous twin vases holding tall spires of larkspur and freesia and flanking silver-framed tintypes.
    â€œYou expect to hear the swish of hooped skirts,” Rebecca murmured.
    â€œThat was the idea. All of the furnishings, all of the color schemes, are from the Civil War era. Even the bathrooms and kitchen reflect the feeling—even if they are modernized for comfort and convenience.”
    â€œYou must have worked like fiends.”
    â€œI guess we did,” Regan said reflectively. “Mostly it didn’t seem like work at all. That’s the way it is, I suppose, when you’re dazzled by that first explosion of love.”
    â€œExplosion?” Rebecca smiled as she turned back. “Sounds scary—and violent.”
    â€œIt was. There’s very little calm before or after the storm when you’re dealing with a MacKade.”
    â€œAnd apparently that’s just the way you like it.”
    â€œApparently it is. Who’d have thought?”
    â€œWell, to tell you the truth, I always imagined you’d end up with some sophisticated, streamlined sort of man who played squash to keep in shape. Glad I was wrong.”
    â€œSo am I,” Regan said heartily, then shook her head. “Squash?”
    â€œOr polo. Maybe a rousing game of tennis.” Rebecca’s laugh gurgled out. “Well, Regan, you were always so…tidy and chic.” She lifted a brow and gestured to indicate the knife pleat in Regan’s navy trousers, the polished buttons on the double-breasted blazer. “Still are.”
    â€œI’m sure you mean that in the most flattering way,” Regan said dryly.
    â€œAbsolutely. I used to think, if I could just wear the kind of clothes you did—do—get my hair to swing just that way, I wouldn’t feel like such a nerd.”
    â€œYou were not a nerd.”
    â€œI could have given lessons in the art. But—” she ran a hand down the side of her unconstructed jacket “—I’m learning to disguise it.”
    â€œI thought I heard voices.”
    Rebecca looked toward the stairs and saw a small, slim blonde with a baby snuggled into a sack strapped over her breasts. Rebecca’s first impression was of quiet competence. Perhaps it was the hands, she mused, one lying neatly on the polished rail, the other gently cupping the baby’s bottom.
    â€œI wondered if you were upstairs.” Regan walked over to get a peek at the