But if he were honest with himself, he had to admit that Wolff Mountain drew him home time and again despite his conflicted feelings about its past…his past.
Having his brothers close went a long way toward passing the time. They shared meals at the “big house,” and Kieran was introduced to Gracie, Gareth’s new wife. Kieran’s older brother was happier than Kieran had seen him in years, and it was clear that he adored his bride.
In the mornings, Kieran hiked the mountain trails with Gareth, and after lunch every day, he helped Jacob add on a new room to the doc’s already state-of-the-art clinic. Kieran welcomed the physical exertion. Only by pushing himself to the point of exhaustion was he able to sleep at night. And even then he dreamed… God, he dreamed.
Olivia…in his bed, beneath him, her fabulous mane of hair spread across the pillows like a river of molten chocolate shot with gold. Her honey smooth skin bare-ass naked, waiting for him to touch every inch of it with his lips, his tongue, his ragged breath…
He’d dreamed of her before… At least in the beginning. When he first lost her. But the pain of doing so had ultimately led him to pretend she didn’t exist. It was the only way he had survived.
But now, knowing that he and Olivia would soon be sharing a roof, the chains he’d used to bind up his memories shattered. He’d taken more cold showers in the past week than he had as a hormone-driven teen. And in the darkest hours of the night, he wondered with no small amount of guilt if he was using his own daughter as leverage to spend more time with the woman he’d never been able to forget.
Olivia wasn’t coming here to be his lover. She’d made that crystal clear. Her single concession was to allow Cammie a visit. And that was only because Kieran threatened court proceedings.
He still felt bad about that, but Olivia’s stubbornness infuriated him. Why couldn’t she just admit that in the short time they were together, they created a life? He knew the truth in his gut, but he needed Olivia to be honest…to tell him face-to-face. Until he heard her say the words out loud, he wouldn’t be satisfied.
With Cammie as his child, everything changed. It meant that when he was laboring in some godforsaken corner of the world, he could dream about returning home to someone who was his, a child who would love him and hug his neck.
Kieran’s family loved him, but coming home to Wolff Mountain was painful. So painful, in fact, that he made it back to the States only a couple of times a year. No matter how hard he tried, the memories of his mother, though vague and indistinct, permeated the air here. And those same memories reminded him of how helpless he had felt when she died.
Seeing his father and uncle and brothers and cousins crying had left an indelible mark on an impressionable four-year-old. Until then, he’d believed that men never cried, especially not his big, gruff daddy. Kieran had been confused, and fearful, and so desperate to make everything better.
The day of the funeral he pretended to take a nap while the adults were gone. While the nanny was on the phone with her boyfriend, Kieran slipped into his mother’s bedroom and ransacked the large walk-in closet that housed her clothes. He tugged at the hems of blouses and dresses and evening gowns, ripping them from the hangers and piling them up haphazardly until he had a small mountain.
The fabrics smelled like her. With tears streaming down his face, he climbed atop his makeshift bed, curled into a ball of misery and fell asleep, his thumb tucked in his mouth.
Kieran inhaled sharply, realizing that he had allowed himself the bittersweet, two-edged sword of memory. That’s why he came home so seldom. In another hemisphere he could pretend that his life was normal. That it had always been normal.
Returning to Wolff Mountain always pulled the Band-Aid off a wound that had never healed cleanly. He remembered being discovered on that terrible funeral day and escorted out of his parents’ bedroom. No one chastised him. No one took him to task for what he had done. But three days later when he worked up the courage to once again sneak into his mother’s closet, every trace of her was gone…as if she had never existed. Even the hangers had been removed.
That day he’d cried again, huddled in a ball in the corner of the bare closet. And this time, there was no comfort to be found. His world had shredded around him, leaving nothing but uncertainty and bleakness. He hated the stomach-hollowing feelings and the sensation of doom.
No child should ever have to feel abandoned, and sadly, Kieran and his brothers had been emotional orphans when their father fell apart in the wake of Laura Wolff’s death. It took Victor Wolff literally years to recover, and by then, the damage was done. The boys loved their father, but they had become closed off to softer emotions.
Kieran cursed and kicked at a pile of loose gravel in the driveway. Was Cammie his daughter? A tiny shred of doubt remained. He found it almost impossible to believe that Olivia had gone from his bed to another man’s so quickly. But he had hurt her badly…and she might have done it out of spite.
The girl in the photograph at Olivia’s house looked like a Wolff, though that might be wishful thinking on Kieran’s part. And as for the Kevin Wade on the birth certificate, well… Olivia might have done that to preserve her privacy. Using the name of a man who didn’t exist to protect her rights as a mother.
But God help him, if Olivia had lied…if she had kept him from his own flesh and blood, there was going to be hell to pay.
His cell phone beeped with a text from the front gate guard at the foot of the mountain. Olivia’s car had arrived.
She had flatly refused Wolff transportation, either the private jet or a ride from the airport. Her independence made a statement that said Kieran was unnecessary. It would be his pleasure to show her how wrong she was.
When a modest rental vehicle pulled into sight, he felt his heart race, not only at the prospect of seeing Olivia, but at the realization that he might be, for the first time, coming face-to-face with his progeny.
The car slid to a halt and Olivia stepped out. Before she could come around and help with the passenger door, it was flung open from the inside, and a small, slender girl hopped into view. She had brown hair pulled back into pigtails and wore a wary expression as she surveyed her surroundings. Though Kieran didn’t move, she spotted him immediately. Try as he might, Kieran could see no hint that she resembled his family. She looked like a kid. That’s all. A little kid.
She slipped her hand into Olivia’s. “It’s like Cinderella’s castle. Do we get to sleep here?”
“For a few nights.”
Kieran wondered if Olivia was intimidated by the size and scope of the house. She had grown up as the only child of famous, wealthy parents, but this structure—part fortress, part fairy tale—was beyond imagination for most people. All it was missing was gargoyles on the parapets. With turrets and battlements and thick, gray stone walls, it should have looked unwelcoming, but somehow, it suited this wild mountaintop.
“Who’s that, Mommy?”
Kieran stepped forward, but before he could speak, Olivia gave Kieran a warning look. “His name is Kieran. He’s a friend of mine. But you can call him Mr. Wolff.”
“She’d better call me Kieran to avoid confusion, because she’s going to be meeting a lot of Mr. Wolffs.”
Olivia’s lips tightened, but she didn’t argue.
Kieran knelt beside Cammie. “We’re glad to have you and your mommy here for a visit. Would you like to see the horses?” He took a punch to the chest when he realized the child’s eyes were the same color as his own, dark amber with flecks of gold and brown.
He glanced up at Olivia, his heart in his throat. Tell me, his gaze signaled furiously.
Olivia didn’t give an inch. “I think it would be best if Cammie and I rested for a while. It was a long, tiring flight and we’re beat.”
“But, Mommy,” Cammie wailed. “I love horses.”
Kieran straightened. “Surely a quick trip to the stables wouldn’t hurt. And after that you’ll nap with no argument, right, Cammie?”
> The child was smart enough to know when a deal was worth taking. “Okay,” she said, the resignation in her voice oddly adult. She slipped her hand into Kieran’s. “C’mon, before she changes her mind.”
Olivia followed behind the pair of them, realizing with chagrin that she would have been better served letting Kieran stay with them in California. On his turf, already Olivia felt at a disadvantage. And she hadn’t missed Kieran’s poleaxed look when he saw her daughter’s eye color. It was unusual to say the least. And a dead giveaway when it came to parentage.
Behind the massive house stood an immaculate barn with adjoining stables. Inside the latter, the smell of hay mingled not unpleasantly with the odor of warm horseflesh.
Kieran led Cammie past the stalls of mighty stallions to an enclosure where a pretty brown-and-white pony stood contentedly munching hay. He handed Cammie a few apple chunks from a nearby bin. “Hold out your hand with the fingers flat, like this.”
She obeyed instantly, her small face alight with glee as the pony approached cautiously and scooped up the food with a delicate swipe of its lips. “Mommy, look,” she cried. “It likes me.”
Kieran put a hand on her shoulder. “Her name is Sunshine, and you can ride her as long as you’re here.”
“Now?” Cammie asked, practically bouncing on her feet. “Please, Mommy.”
Over her head, the two adults’ gazes met, Olivia’s filled with frustration, Kieran’s bland. “Later,” Olivia said firmly. “We have plenty of time.”
She had been afraid that she would have to meet a phalanx of Kieran’s relatives while she was still rumpled and road weary, but he led them to a quiet, peaceful wing of the house where the windows were thrown open to embrace the warm, early summer breezes.
“This will be your room, Olivia.” Kieran paused to indicate a lovely suite decorated in shades of celadon and pale buttercup. “And through here…” He passed through a connecting door to another room clearly meant for a child. “This is yours, Cammie.”
Olivia saw her daughter’s eyes grow wide. The furnishings had been made to resemble a tree house, with the sleep space atop a small pedestal accessed by rope netting, which coincidentally made any possibility of falling out of bed harmless.
Cammie kicked off her shoes and scampered up the rope apron like the monkey she was. “Look at me,” she cried. “This is awesome. Thank you, Kieran.”
Soon she was oblivious to the adults as she explored the tree trunk bookcase, the two massive toy chests shaped like daisies and the enormous fish tank.
Olivia drew Kieran aside. “Are you insane?” she asked, her low whisper incredulous. “This must have cost a fortune. And for three nights? You can’t buy my compliance, Kieran. Nor hers.”
“The money isn’t an issue,” he said quietly, a small smile on his face as he watched Cammie scoot from one wonder to the next. “I wanted my daughter to feel at home here.”
“She’s not your daughter.” The denial was automatic, but lacked conviction.
Kieran barely noticed. “She’s smart, isn’t she?”
“Oh, yes. Talking in full sentences before she was two. Reading at three and a half. Learning how to use my laptop almost a year ago. I can barely keep up with her.”
“A child needs two parents, Olivia.” He wasn’t looking at her, but the words sounded like a threat.
“You grew up with only one,” she shot back. “And you’ve done all right.”
He half turned and she could see the riot of emotions in his eyes. “I wouldn’t wish my childhood on anyone,” he said. The blunt words were harsh and ragged with grief.
Shame choked her and she laid a hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, Kieran. I really am.”
He took her wrist in his hand, bringing it up to his mouth and brushing a kiss across her knuckles. “Tonight. When she’s asleep. We’ll talk in my suite. One of the housekeepers can babysit and make sure she’s okay.” His grip tightened. “This isn’t optional, Olivia.”
Once again she was thrown by the way he mingled tenderness with masculine authority. Kieran wasn’t a man who could be “handled.” He expected to be obeyed, and it incensed her. But at the same time, she knew she dared not cross him and risk having him blurt out the truth to Cammie. That she had a father. A flesh and blood man who wanted to know her and be part of her life. What kind of mother would Olivia be if she stood in the way of that?
What else did Kieran want? Was this weekend visit going to appease him? Would he sue for joint custody? Or perhaps at the urging of his paranoid father, would he insist on full custody and try to lock Cammie up here in the castle until she was old enough to escape?
That’s essentially what Kieran and his brothers had experienced. They had been hidden away from the world until they were allowed to go away to school with aliases.
Olivia couldn’t live like that. And she certainly didn’t want her daughter to endure such isolation. So she had no choice but to convince Kieran that being a father was too much for him to handle.
He left them finally, and Olivia and Cammie fell into an exhausted sleep, both of them in Olivia’s bed. For a five-year-old, even with a private playground at her disposal, sometimes the most comfortable place to be was curled up in Mommy’s arms.
Shadows filled the room when they awoke. Someone had slid a note under the door indicating that dinner would be at seven. As Olivia and Cammie washed up and changed clothes, a smiling young maid brought by a tray of grapes, cheese and crackers.
Olivia blessed whoever had the foresight to be so thoughtful. When Cammie got hungry, she got cranky, and her resultant attitude could be unpredictable.
Fortunately Cammie was on her best behavior that evening. And it helped that the whole Wolff clan was not in residence. Only Kieran’s father, Victor, Kieran’s brothers, Gareth and Jacob, and the newest member of the family, Gareth’s wife, Gracie, were seated around the large mahogany dining table when Olivia and Cammie walked into the room.
Olivia put a hand on her daughter’s thin shoulder. “Sorry if we’re late. We took a wrong turn in the third floor hallway.”
Victor Wolff, one of the clan’s two patriarchs, lumbered to his feet, chuckling at Olivia’s lame joke. “Quite understandable. No problem. We’re just getting ready for the soup course.” His gaze landed on Cammie and stayed there, full of avid interest. “Welcome to the mountain, ladies. Kieran rarely brings such lovely guests.”
“Thank you, sir.” Olivia took a seat, and settled Cammie beside her, surprised to find that she was nervous as hell. It certainly wasn’t the formal dinner that had her baffled. She’d conquered dining etiquette as a child. No, it was the barely veiled speculation in the eyes of everyone at the table when they looked at Olivia and Cammie.
Only Kieran seemed oblivious to the undercurrents in the room. After digging into his pan-fried trout, caught in one of the streams on the property, he waved a fork at his father. “So tell me, Dad…what big projects do you and Uncle Vincent have lined up for the summer?”
He sat to the left of Olivia, and in an aside, he said, “My dad always likes to keep things humming here on the mountain. One year he repainted the entire house. Took the workmen six weeks and untold gallons of paint. Another time he added a bowling alley in the basement.”
She smiled, hyperaware of Kieran’s warm thigh so close to her own. “I imagine with a place this size there is always something that needs your attention.”
Victor nodded. “Indeed. But this time I’m branching out. I’ve decided to plant a portion of the back of the mountain in Christmas trees.”
Cammie’s face lit up, her attention momentarily diverted from her macaroni and cheese. “I love Christmas. My mama covers the whole house with decorations.”
Victor smiled at her. “How old are you, young lady?”
“Five,” she said casually, returning her attention to her meal.
Victor honed in on Olivia then. “My son hasn’t told us much about you, Olivia. Have you known each other very
long?”
The food she had eaten congealed into a knot in her stomach. She had been dreading just such a line of questioning. It took all she had to answer in a matter-of-fact voice. “We met when Kieran and I were doing graduate work at Oxford. You were taken ill soon after that, and he and I lost touch.”
“I see.” Olivia was very much afraid that he did see.
Her phone buzzed in the pocket of her skirt. Javier and Lolita tended to worry when she and Cammie were out of their reach, and they called often to check in. Since there was a lull before dessert, she smiled at the group in general and said, “Excuse me, please.”
When she returned a few moments later, Kieran jumped up to move out her chair. He leaned over as he seated her, whispering in her ear, “What’s wrong? You’re pale as a ghost.”
She wanted to hold on to him for comfort, and that scared her. So she swallowed her dismay and produced a smile. “Everything’s fine. That was my mother checking up on us.”
Kieran frowned, obviously unconvinced. “Olivia’s parents are Javier and Lolita Delgado.”
A rippled murmur swept the table. Gareth Wolff lifted an eyebrow. “I remember seeing her in Fly by Night when I was sixteen. She’s amazing.”
Jacob joined in the verbal applause. “And I’ll never forget when your dad played his first big role in Vigilante Justice. I thought he was the coolest dude ever.”
Hearing Kieran’s reserved brothers speak so enthusiastically about her parents made Olivia realize anew how much the older couple was beloved around the world. As their daughter, she saw them in a different light, but she understood the admiration and passion they generated in audiences.
Unfortunately not all of it was positive.
Biting her lip, she decided to share her unease. “My mother has a stalker fan who has been causing some problems. She just told me that he has hacked into her private email account and started sending her weird messages.”
All four Wolff males wore matching expressions of ferocity. “Like what?” Kieran demanded, sliding an arm across the back of her chair.
A Touch of Persuasion Page 4