The Christmas Cradle. Linda WarrenЧитать онлайн книгу.
her. The only person who’d ever kidnapped her was her mother. She’d taken away her childhood and now she was trying to destroy what little peace Marisa had managed to find. A white rage filled her.
“Mr. Kincaid doesn’t even want me here. I came of my own free will, and you can tell my mother—”
The deputy held up his hand. “I’ve only spoken with your father, so if you’ll get your things, I’ll take you back to Dallas and your family.”
Her mother could manipulate her father into doing anything. This time she wasn’t giving in. She was fighting back.
“Are the roads passable?” she asked.
“The highway department’s been working all night and I managed to get here without too much of a problem.”
“Then I’ll follow you in my car.”
“It’d be better if you came with me.”
“Am I under arrest?”
His face turned slightly red. “No, ma’am.”
“Good. Then it’s settled. I’ll drive my own car.” She whirled toward the den.
“Sorry for the intrusion, Colter,” she heard the deputy say.
She sank onto the pallet, where she found the corduroy jacket and slipped it on. Ellie stirred and sat up, rubbing her eyes.
“The lights are on,” she said.
“Yes,” Marisa answered, looking around for her shoes.
“Are you leaving?” Ellie asked.
“Yes. I have to go.”
“Then Santa didn’t send you.” The forlorn voice bothered Marisa.
“No. Santa didn’t send me, but here’s an early Christmas present.” She handed her the high heels.
“Cool.”
Marisa stood. “Goodbye, Ellie.”
“‘Bye. You sure you don’t need your shoes? It’s cold.”
“I have wool socks on, so don’t worry about it.”
“Okay.” She stroked Sooner. “Can I still come and see Santa?”
Marisa could feel Colter’s eyes boring into her, but she wasn’t going to disappoint Ellie. She didn’t care how angry he got. “Sure. Anytime you want.”
Ellie smiled. “Thanks.”
Marisa picked up her purse and walked toward the back door. Tulley was in the kitchen drinking coffee. “’Bye, Tulley,” she said, but didn’t stop. She had to get away.
Colter caught her at the door. “Let’s be clear about one thing.”
She’d had all she could take from him. “No,” she snapped. “I’m not listening to any more of your nastiness or your insults. I made some bad choices—very bad choices—but I had my reasons. Reasons I thought were valid at the time. If you could stop thinking about your pride for one tiny second, you might want to hear those reasons. Until then, I have nothing to say to you.”
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