Kingsley Baby Trilogy: The Hero's SonThe Brother's WifeThe Long-Lost Heir

by Amanda Stevens

  Around a bend in the road, he spotted the Blazer. Beside him, Hope gave a little sob of relief. But the relief was short-lived. From the woods, one of the dogs lunged toward the road. Another sprang from the darkness behind them.

  Jake drew his gun, knowing that without ammunition, it was next to useless. “Make a run for it,” he told Hope. “I’ll be right behind you.”

  Hope dashed toward the truck. The dog nearest to Jake growled in menace, ready to attack. Jake threw his gun at the beast and had the satisfaction of hearing a solid thunk as metal connected with flesh. The dog howled in pain and rage, only momentarily distracted from his prey. But it bought Jake a few precious seconds. He turned and raced for the truck. Hope grabbed his arm and pulled him inside. As Jake slammed the door, one of the dogs jumped from the darkness and landed on the hood of the Blazer, his long, sharp teeth threatening even through the windshield. Another dog attacked Hope’s window, and yet another propelled his body toward Jake’s door.

  “Hurry,” Hope said. “Get us out of here.”

  The keys weren’t in the ignition. “Damn!” Jake exclaimed. Pratt had lured them to the truck and then trapped them here. No telling how long they would have to stay before he called off the dogs.

  Jake bent and felt beneath the floor mat, surprised when his hand closed over the keys.

  “Oh, God, hurry,” Hope begged. The huge Doberman was snapping at her through the glass. Jake could hear a cracking sound every time the dog lunged.

  It took him three tries to get the key in the ignition, an eternity as more dogs came tearing out of the darkness. Jake started the engine and floored the accelerator. The Blazer shot forward and the Doberman on the hood went sliding off with a yelp. The dogs at the side windows fell away, and Hope put her hand to her heart. “I’ve never been so frightened,” she gasped.

  “Yeah, it got pretty hairy back there,” he said, sending her a sidelong glance

  To his surprise, she laughed breathlessly. “I didn’t think we had a dog’s chance.”

  They were both laughing in nervous relief when the Blazer rounded the last curve in the drive and they were suddenly at the gate. A closed and locked gate.

  Hope glanced behind them. “They’re coming,” she said. “I think I can see them.” She turned back around. “What do we do now?”

  “Good question,” Jake said.

  “Can you ram it?”

  “Not a good idea,” he said. “That metal’s solid. We may have to scale it instead.”

  Hope stared at him in horror. “You mean get out of the truck?”

  “It may be our only chance.” But just then, like magic, the gates slid open before them. “Voil;aaa,” Jake said. “I guess Pratt has a sense of humor after all.”

  * * *

  JAKE DROPPED HOPE OFF at her car at the Club Mystique, then followed her home. He wasn’t about to let her out of his sight until she was safely behind locked doors, he told her. And Hope had to admit that after the harrowing experience the two of them had just shared, it was comforting to have Jake so nearby.

  At the gate to the Kingsley property, he waited until she was safely inside and the gates had closed behind her before he drove around to the rear entrance where the servants and delivery people entered the estate. Hope pulled her own car around the circular drive in front of the mansion and parked, knowing someone would later move the vehicle to the garages, where it would be washed and refueled for the next time she wanted to take a drive.

  Hope had never been comfortable having servants at her beck and call, and she hated it even more now as she watched Jake’s headlights move toward the rear of the property. Her mother was right, Hope thought, as she let herself inside the house. The sooner she moved out of the mansion, the better.

  The lights on the ground floor had been lowered, with only wall sconces and an occasional lamp to chase away the gloom. Hope moved into the library, intent on pouring herself a brandy to take upstairs with her. Her nerves still weren’t what they should be, and she needed something that would brace her for the long night ahead, when shock was bound to set in.

  Splashing a generous amount of liquor into a snifter, Hope lifted the glass to her lips. Only then did she see the silhouette of a man standing by the windows, in a shadow that was left untouched by the lamp she’d turned on.

  She gasped and the snifter fell from her hand. The silhouette separated from the other shadows and moved toward her, tall and lean and somehow menacing in the meager light.

  Or perhaps, Hope thought, her mind was still on the dogs. After all, Jeremy had never frightened her before. He was a bore, yes, and odd, to say the least, but harmless.

  His gaze dropped to the spilled brandy at her feet. “Hope,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. You startled me, that’s all.” He was dressed for bed in a dark blue robe over light gray pajamas. It struck Hope that she had never seen Jeremy in anything but a suit.

  “You look different,” he said, echoing her thoughts. “Your hair is all messed up.”

  She forced a soft laugh, running her fingers through the tangles. “Oh, that. I was driving with the top down.”

  “It’s cool out. Weren’t you wearing a jacket?”

  “It’s not that cool,” she said. “Besides, I didn’t go far.”

  “You’ve been gone for hours.”

  Hope frowned. “Are you keeping tabs on me, Jeremy?”

  He looked a bit flustered. “No, it’s not that. I mean, I just happened to notice…” His voice trailed away and his gaze dropped. He seemed fixated on her jeans.

  Hope’s frown deepened. She didn’t think she cared much for this new attention from Jeremy. Or had it been there all along, even when Andrew was alive, and she just hadn’t noticed?

  She bent to retrieve the glass. “I’d better get something to clean up this mess,” she said, wanting to escape.

  “Leave it,” Jeremy said carelessly. “Someone will take care of it in the morning.”

  “The stain will have set by then. I’ll see what I can find in the kitchen. No sense you waiting up, though,” she added as she turned to leave.

  “Hope?”

  She paused and glanced back at him.

  “I thought I saw other headlights down by the gate just now. They went around back.”

  She lifted a brow. “So?”

  “So I wondered if you’d been with Jake McClain tonight.”

  “Why would you wonder that?” Hope asked, in what she hoped was an innocent tone.

  Jeremy’s gaze deepened on her. “You used to be engaged to him.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  “You were in love with him. I used to see you with him at his father’s cottage.”

  Oh, no, Hope thought. Had Jeremy been spying on them back then? The notion sent a wave of heat rushing through her. The first time she and Jake had made love was at his father’s cottage, in Jake’s old bedroom, one afternoon while his father had been out. They’d both had apartments back then, but with roommates. Privacy had been hard to come by, so when they’d found themselves alone in the cottage that afternoon, temptation had prevailed.

  They’d left the bedroom window open, and the air had been filled with the scent of flowers from the gardens. Hope had thought it all so very romantic, but now she remembered something else. A tree with wide limbs grew near Jake’s window, and as she and Jake had lain naked in his bed, Hope had thought for one split second that she’d seen something moving in those branches. A flash of pale skin…

  Jeremy had been a grown man even then. The notion of his deliberately watching her and Jake made Hope feel nauseous. She’d always felt a little sorry for Jeremy, but now she suspected there was more to him than met the eye. She wondered if his quiet demeanor was nothing more than a carefully constructed facade to mask what her mother would call a sly and crafty nature.

  “I don’t care to discuss my relationship with Jake,” she said coolly.

  “No, of course.” Bu
t he looked a little hurt by her rebuff. Or was that anger glinting in his gray eyes?

  “Well, good night,” Hope forced herself to say politely. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Yes,” Jeremy replied, with a curious little smile. “I’m sure you will.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Late Saturday afternoon, Hope was in her suite at the mansion, getting ready for Brant Colter’s wedding, when Iris knocked on the door. She looked surprised, and none too pleased, to see Hope dressed to go out.

  “I was hoping we could have tea together.” Iris was groomed as impeccably as ever, but she no longer wore black. Her mourning attire had been dispensed with shortly after Michael Eldridge had entered their lives. Today she was dressed in a jade pants-and-tunic outfit, complemented by a breathtaking diamond- and-emerald brooch. “Michael’s coming by later.”

  Hope was glad she had a legitimate excuse for being absent from the house during his visit. “I’m sorry, but I’ve made plans with my mother for the evening.” No use telling Iris what those plans were. Mentioning Brant Colter’s name was bound to stir up painful memories for her, since it had been Brant’s uncle who had confessed to kidnapping Adam.

  “I understand.” Iris sat down on the edge of Hope’s bed and watched her put the finishing touches to her makeup. “You look lovely, my dear. I’ve always thought that color was very becoming to you.”

  “Thank you,” Hope said, inspecting the lavender silk dress in the mirror. Was it too short? She was thirty-two, after all. Hardly matronly, but not an ingenue any longer. Opening the lid of her jewelry box, she withdrew a strand of pearls that Andrew had given her for one of their anniversaries, the year he’d gotten himself the Porsche.

  Hope held the necklace to her dress. “Yes,” Iris said approvingly. “Pearls are always appropriate.”

  Hope fastened them around her neck, then picked up her bag. “Well,” she said, “I guess I’m off, then.”

  “I’ll give Michael your regards,” Iris said.

  Please don’t, Hope thought, but she merely smiled at Iris before she turned to exit the room.

  Hope’s car had been brought around a little while earlier, and as she descended the steps to the walkway, she saw the red Viper rounding the last curve in the drive. Michael was early.

  Hope hurried across the cobblestone drive to the Jaguar, intent on making a getaway before he could reach the house. But Michael must have spotted her and accelerated, because before she could climb inside her car, he screeched to a halt in front of the house and hopped out.

  “Hello,” he called. “Where are you off to all dressed up?”

  Hope hesitated. Politeness dictated that she wait and make small talk with him, no matter how uneasy he made her. She glanced up at the house. A curtain moved in Iris’s sitting-room window. She was up there watching them, Hope realized.

  “I’m meeting my mother,” she said noncommittally.

  He walked toward her. “I love that dress,” he said, propping one arm on the Jaguar’s top.

  “Thank you.” Hope glanced at her watch. “I hate to dash off like this, but I am running late.”

  “Oh, well, in that case.” He straightened, tapping the Jaguar affectionately. “We wouldn’t want to keep Joanna waiting, now would we?”

  He strolled off with his hands in his pockets, whistling some inane tune as Hope stared after him, her heart pounding and her mouth going dry. She got into the car, but her hands were shaking so badly she couldn’t turn the ignition. How had he known her mother’s name? There was no way, unless…

  Hope closed her eyes. It can’t be, she told herself. What she was thinking was incredible. Someone—Iris, maybe—must have mentioned her mother’s name to Michael. That was the only possible explanation.

  But he’d used it so casually, so naturally, as if he’d spoken her mother’s name dozens of times before.

  “Andrew is dead,” Hope whispered aloud. He had to be. Nothing else made sense. Why would he fake his own death, then deliberately pretend to be someone else? It would take a madman to try and pull off such a bizarre stunt.

  Or a desperate one…

  She stopped suddenly, as Jake’s words came rushing back to her. “Andrew owed Pratt a lot of money. One way or another, Pratt always collects.”

  Could Andrew have fabricated his own death in order to escape Pratt’s wrath? Hope had met the man, had seen firsthand what he was capable of. She could well imagine Andrew’s desperation.

  But to perpetrate such an elaborate hoax would take a great deal of planning. Not to mention conspirators. Someone would have had to help him. Someone with a great deal of money and power, Hope thought suddenly, her gaze returning to Iris’s sitting-room window.

  “Oh, Hope. Don’t you see? It’s as if Andrew’s come back to us,” Iris had told her the first day Michael had visited the mansion. And now Iris was no longer wearing black. No longer in mourning. She had even begun to hint that Hope and Michael…

  Hope put trembling hands to her face. Did Iris know something no one else did? Was that why she had taken to Michael so quickly? Was that why she didn’t want him investigated?

  No, Hope thought. She couldn’t believe that. She’d seen how grief-stricken Iris had been when she’d learned of Andrew’s death. There was no way she could have been pretending. Unless, of course, she hadn’t yet known…

  Stop it! Hope commanded herself firmly. Andrew is dead. Dead and buried, and that’s that.

  But as she reached for the ignition, she caught a glimpse of her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her image seemed to be mocking her, reminding her that for over thirty years, Adam Kingsley was thought to have been dead and buried, too.

  And they’d been wrong about him.

  * * *

  BY THE TIME HOPE and her mother arrived at the church, Hope had managed to convince herself once again that her imagination was simply running away with her. There was something odd about Michael Eldridge, no question. He seemed to be deliberately trying to make her think he was Andrew. His mannerisms. The cologne. And now mentioning her mother’s name. But whatever sick game he was playing, Hope wanted no part of it. And by allowing herself to think for even one minute that Andrew could still be alive was playing right into the man’s possibly psychotic hands.

  “Isn’t it a perfect evening for a wedding?” Joanna asked as she linked her arm through Hope’s. “You look so pretty tonight, Hope. You could be a bride yourself.”

  “Don’t start,” Hope warned as they neared the church. But her mother was right. The day had been glorious, mild and sunny, and now twilight had fallen like the softest of blankets over the churchyard. The early stars burned in the eastern sky, bright and steadfast, and just barely visible over the horizon, the moon was rising like some ancient silver disk that had been polished a bit too thin around the edges.

  The air smelled deliciously of cherry blossoms, roses and hyacinths. Wisteria plunged purple over the brick wall surrounding the church, and high in the gnarled branches of a locust tree, doves came home to roost, cooing as sweetly as an old love song.

  It was a perfect evening for a wedding. A perfect night for romance.

  Glancing up, Hope saw Jake at the entrance to the church. He wore dark gray pleated trousers with a sport coat and a white shirt, but no tie. He stood talking to some of the men gathered just outside the door, but as Hope and her mother approached, his gaze locked onto hers and Hope’s breath left her in a painful rush.

  She thought suddenly of the way he had kissed her two nights before. Gently, almost wistfully. And yet there had been a hint even then of something more. Something deeper. Something…hotter.

  Passion had never been in short supply between them, she remembered. They’d once had it all.

  “There’s Jake,” her mother whispered. “Why don’t you go say hello?”

  Joanna’s voice seemed to break the spell. Hope tore her gaze from Jake’s and glared down at her mother. “Mother, don’t.”
/>   Joanna’s brows rose in innocence. “What? All I did was suggest you go say hello to an old friend. What’s so wrong with that?”

  “You know exactly what’s wrong with it,” Hope replied. “You’re doing it again. Trying to get Jake and me together, and I want you to stop.”

  Joanna let out a long, exasperated breath. “Why do you keep doing this to yourself, Hope? Why do you keep torturing yourself out of some misplaced loyalty to Andrew? You made a mistake ten years ago, but you’ve been bound and determined all this time not to admit it. I could admire that to a point. God knows, I’m no fan of divorce. A part of me has always been very proud of the way you fought to make your marriage work. But enough is enough, already. Andrew is dead, and there’s no point in pretending anymore. Now go on over there and say hello to Jake, before it’s too late.”

  “Too late for what?”

  Joanna’s mouth tightened into a thin, disapproving line. “See for yourself,” she said, nodding toward the entrance of the church.

  Hope followed her gaze. Jake was still among the group of men gathered at the door, but a newcomer had joined them. Sissy McDonnell, a recent divorc;aaee, had established herself at Jake’s side and latched on to his arm as if she never intended to relinquish it. Hope remembered Sissy from college. She’d been something of a femme fatale even back then, and she’d always had a crush on Jake.

  Seeing them together, Hope experienced an unpleasant sensation in the pit of her stomach. A sour taste in the back of her mouth.

  “See what I mean?” Joanna nudged Hope with her purse. “A man like that won’t wait forever.”

  * * *

  AS JAKE TOOK HIS SEAT inside the church, he noticed that Hope sat two pews up and across the aisle from him, which allowed him a view of her profile every time she turned to speak to her mother. Her hair was pulled back from her face and fastened in the back with a pearl clasp, giving her an air of sophistication and elegance. But the lavender dress she wore was just plain sexy. Jake had always loved Hope in lavender.

  She’d worn that color the first time they met, at the police department’s yearly picnic in Overton Park. He’d been a rookie, fresh out of the academy, with a confidence that bordered on arrogance. “More brawn than brains” had been Hope’s first impression of him, she’d later told him.