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

by Amanda Stevens

  “Well, say something,” she urged. “Tell me how glad you are to see me. Or how much you love my dress. Or better yet—” her voice lowered seductively “—tell me how much you’d like to rip it off me.”

  “How did you find me?” David said instead.

  Displeasure flashed in her eyes. “Is that the best you can do?” She reached up to wrap her slender arms around his neck. “Isn’t it enough that I’m here?”

  He removed her arms from around his neck, leading her toward the open French doors. When they were on the terrace, he let go of her arm. “Tell me how you knew about me. My name hasn’t been released to the media yet. At least, it wasn’t until tonight.”

  She laughed excitedly. “Oh, David, I can’t believe this. Any of it. You’re Adam Kingsley. My God, think of it.” She made a sweeping gesture toward the mansion behind them. “All of this will be yours someday, and to think of that dump where you grew up—”

  “It wasn’t a dump,” he said, although for the life of him he wasn’t sure why he felt the need to defend the home where he’d grown up or the woman who had raised him. But he did, and fair or not, he suddenly resented Rachel’s intrusion into his life.

  “Oh, don’t be so defensive,” she pouted. “You have to admit, there isn’t a house in all of Richford, New York, that can compare to this place.”

  “You sound impressed,” David said dryly.

  “Well, of course, I am. So is Daddy. He sends his regards, by the way. He isn’t holding a grudge against you anymore. He understands now, as do I, why you didn’t want to join the firm. But you should have told us, David. At least you should have told me. We are still engaged, aren’t we?”

  “You haven’t answered my question,” he said. “How did you know to come here?”

  “Does it matter?” she asked in exasperation.

  “It might.”

  She actually stamped her foot. “Honestly, you can be the most tiresome man when you get focused on something.”

  “Then answer the question, and we can talk about something else.”

  “Talking is not exactly what I had in mind.” The exasperation in her tone was slowly turning to anger. “You haven’t even kissed me, David, and so maybe you’d better answer my question.”

  “Which was?”

  “Are we still engaged?”

  He glanced away, avoiding her stare. “Look, I didn’t mean to get into this with you tonight. Hell, I didn’t even know you were going to be here tonight. But since you are, I think I’d better be honest with you.”

  All was silent for a moment, and then a locker-room expletive exploded from Rachel’s elegant lips. “I knew it!” She turned to walk away from him, then whirled around to face him again. Even in the moonlight, he could see her face had gone rigid with barely suppressed rage. “I could sense something was wrong when you called that night, and then when I got the other call, my suspicions were confirmed. How dare you make me look like a fool!”

  She raised her hand to slap him, but David caught her wrist in midair. Rachel was a tall woman, and their eyes were almost on the same level as they stared at each other for a long, tense moment. Then slowly David removed his hand from her wrist, and her arm dropped to her side.

  “What other phone call?” he asked quietly.

  Rachel glared at him. “I don’t owe you any explanations. You’re the one who has the explaining to do. You’re the one who’s been playing around behind my back.”

  “I haven’t been unfaithful to you,” he said, although at the moment, he had to admit the argument sounded pretty lame, even to him.

  “You just wanted to be, right?” Her eyes glittered like ice chips.

  David felt his own anger stir to life. Maybe he was the one in the wrong here, but being on the defensive was hell. “Are you telling me you haven’t been out with anyone else since I’ve been gone? And I’m not talking about clients.”

  She paused uncertainly. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  He raised a brow at that. “Don’t you? I haven’t been completely cut off here, you know. I still keep in touch with the office.”

  In the filtered light from the terrace, David could see the telltale look of guilt flash across Rachel’s features before she could subdue it. He’d only been guessing, but he knew her well enough to assume she wouldn’t have been spending her evenings alone, pining for him.

  She tossed back her head. “So what if I have been seeing someone? Can you honestly say you care?”

  He shrugged. “It does tell me something about our relationship.”

  “Don’t pretend you’ve grown sentimental all of a sudden. Look.” Her voice softened, and she reached out to caress his sleeve with a smooth, slender hand. “Maybe we were never in love, but we had something better. Chemistry, David. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how great it was between us.” Her voice had lowered seductively again, her anger apparently vanquished. She wrapped her arms around his neck and brought her lips against his.

  For a moment, David tried to respond. They were still engaged, after all, and he must have felt something for her at one time—the “chemistry” she talked about.

  But if it had ever existed it was gone now, and Rachel’s kiss left him cold. As cold as the woman herself. How could he ever have thought he would be happy married to her?

  Because you hadn’t met Bradlee, a little voice whispered inside him.

  Now there was chemistry. But with Bradlee it was more than just passion. She was the kind of woman a man wanted to protect and cherish. She brought out qualities in David he hadn’t even known he possessed.

  Was that love? He thought it just might be.

  He didn’t resist Rachel’s kiss, but neither did he respond, and after a moment, she drew back. “So I guess that’s my answer, isn’t it?”

  She took off her engagement ring and held it out to him in her palm. The diamond sparkled coldly in the moonlight.

  David wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t want the ring, but he didn’t think Rachel would have a use for it, either. She wasn’t the sentimental type and she certainly didn’t need the money.

  But before he could decide how to handle the situation tactfully, her fingers closed around the diamond. She slanted a look up at him and smiled. “Did you think it would be that easy, David?”

  “I don’t want to hurt you, Rachel, but it’s over. Don’t make it harder than it has to be.”

  She laughed then—a dark, humorless laugh that filled David with dread. “Did you think I would just go quietly back to New York and forget all about…you?”

  He could have sworn what she meant to say was “this.” “Forget all about this.” While he had no illusions about her undying devotion to him, he could see where his newfound identity—and all that went with it—would make it harder for a woman like Rachel to let go.

  But then, maybe he was being too hard on her. Trying to justify his actions and assuage his own guilty conscience by making her seem cold and mercenary. What did that say about his own character? he wondered.

  “I’m sure the Kingsleys won’t mind you staying the night,” he said. “But in the morning, I think it would be best if you went back to New York. In a few days, I’ll fly up and we can talk some more if you like.”

  She lifted her chin, eyeing him with cold amusement. “Don’t worry about me, David. Your grandmother has issued me a standing invitation. I can stay as long as I want, but I wouldn’t dream of cramping your style. Besides, I’ve already made other friends in Memphis.”

  She started to pass by him, but David caught her arm. “What other friends? What was the phone call you mentioned earlier?”

  She brushed his hand off her arm and smiled. “You have your secrets, and I have mine.”

  * * *

  BRADLEE AWAKENED WITH a splitting headache, and for a moment, she had to lie perfectly still to keep from blacking out again. A medicinal odor lingered in the air, a scent that was sickeningly sweet and vaguely familiar. A memory reac
hed out to her, something that had come back to her while under hypnosis.

  She had smelled the same scent the night of the kidnapping. The shadow had bent over Adam’s bed, holding something to his face. Bradlee had been worried that he couldn’t breathe, that someone was trying to smother him, but now she knew what had happened. Whoever had come into the nursery had held ether to David’s face to ensure he wouldn’t wake up for hours, not until he and the kidnapper were long gone.

  She struggled to her feet. Her head spun dizzily but she knew she had little time to waste. Whoever had knocked her out would be back, and in her weakened condition, Bradlee might not be able to defend herself—especially against any kind of weapon.

  The room was dark. The blinds were all drawn, shutting out the moonlight, and she knew the light switch was useless. With her arms outstretched, Bradlee slowly crossed the room until her hands touched a solid surface. She felt along the wall until she reached the door, then fumbled for the handle. Once again, the room had been locked from the outside.

  Trying to swallow her panic, Bradlee tried the handle a second time. She beat on the door, calling out for help, but she knew that, too, was useless. The nursery was located in a wing of the house far away from the ballroom. No one would be around unless it was David.

  Or the kidnapper…

  Bradlee turned, feeling her way in the darkness. There was another door, wasn’t there? One that led into the nanny’s room.

  A little more frantically now, Bradlee slid her hands along the wall, searching for the door. Just when she was about to give up, she felt the sharp edges of the door frame. But here again, the knob wouldn’t yield. She shook it repeatedly, then beat on the door.

  Telling herself not to panic, Bradlee turned and leaned her back against the door, letting herself slide to the floor.

  And that was when she saw her way out. A sliver of light, invisible when she’d been standing, showed beneath the blinds at the bottom of the French doors to the balcony. Those doors would surely be bolted from the inside. If she could get them open, she could stand on the balcony and shout for help until someone in the gardens heard her.

  Crossing the room hurriedly, she banged her shin against a bed and stubbed her toe on a rocking chair as she made her way to the light. Panic bubbled inside her again as another thought occurred to her. What if the French doors were locked from the inside with a key rather than a bolt? She would still be trapped.

  I’ll break a window, she thought, and immediately the panic subsided.

  See? There’s a way out. You just have to remain calm and think.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “I’m calm. I’m thinking.” And to her relief, the bolt on the doors turned easily. Pulling one of the doors open, she stepped out onto the balcony.

  It had started to rain, and dark clouds blocked the moon. The gardens below lay in shadow, and because of the rain, no one was about. Everyone had gone back inside. The outside doors of the ballroom had undoubtedly been closed to the weather. Bradlee could stand out here and shout all night, and no one would hear her.

  She shivered in the rain, wondering what to do now. She couldn’t stay here indefinitely. For all she knew, whoever had attacked her would be coming back for her. With the doors all locked in the nursery, the only way out was down.

  She leaned over the railing and heard a cracking sound. The whole length of the coping moved under her weight, and Bradlee stepped back, wondering how long it had been since anyone had actually stood on this balcony. The floor seemed sound enough, but the railing was definitely unsteady.

  Bradlee moved first to one end of the balcony and then the other, searching for a means of escape. A rose trellis clung to the brick wall of the house about two feet over from one corner of the balcony and perhaps four feet down. In order to reach it, she would have to climb over the balcony, hang from the railing with one hand while reaching with the other for the trellis.

  If she missed…if she fell…a stone terrace waited for her thirty feet below.

  She might not be killed, Bradlee reasoned as she put a leg over the balcony railing; just every bone in her body broken.

  “That’s it, think positively,” she muttered. The rain was still light, but it was enough to make the balcony dangerously slippery. Both legs were over the railing now, and she clung to the edge as she inched herself as close to the wall as she could get. Glancing down, she spotted the trellis below her. She could touch it with her foot, but in order to grab hold, she would have to let go of the railing.

  Squatting, she let her hands slide down two of the railing posts. Then, clinging with one hand, she reached for the trellis. The coping shifted beneath her weight, and Bradlee felt herself slipping. She grabbed for the railing post again, but in horror, she felt it rip loose from the rest of the coping. Acting purely on instinct, Bradlee lunged for the trellis.

  Rose thorns bit into her skin as she scrambled for purchase. For a split second, she thought she was going to be all right, and then the trellis slats began to snap loose from their frame.

  She fell a good five feet before she managed to grab hold of the trellis again. Clinging to wood and vines, thorns tearing at her skin, Bradlee held her breath. Her heartbeat roared in her ears, and her arms and legs were shaking. But the trellis held.

  After a few minutes, she began to climb down. It felt like an eternity before she reached the ground, and by the time she did, her dress was in tatters and her hands and arms were bleeding from dozens of scratches.

  She drew a long breath that turned into a sob, but she wouldn’t let herself give in to her terror. Not yet. Keeping to the deepest shadows of the garden, she ran around to the rear entrance. The house was ominously silent, and glancing at her watch, Bradlee realized why. She’d been out for longer than she’d thought. The party was over.

  Feeling disoriented, she slipped through the pantries and huge kitchen, then made her way up the back stairs and headed down the long hallway to her room. Once inside, she closed and locked her door, leaning against the heavy wood as she shut her eyes and tried to calm her racing heart.

  Only then did she let herself think about how close a call she’d just had. Only then did she let herself wonder who might have knocked her out and locked her in the nursery. And for what purpose.

  David was the only one who knew she would be there, but someone could have overheard them talking or followed her. Bradlee had no way of knowing who, but David had been right about one thing: The party had drawn out Colter’s accomplice. And he—or she—was even more desperate than they’d realized. And more dangerous.

  Her arms and hands stinging like wildfire, Bradlee crossed the room to the bathroom, shedding her ruined dress and torn stockings as she went. Standing in her underwear in front of the sink, she washed the scratches with warm, soapy water, gritting her teeth against the pain. She found antiseptic in the medicine cabinet and sprayed every single cut, crying out at the stinging hurt.

  What to do now? she wondered, walking back into the bedroom as she blew on her hands and arms. Call the police? And tell them what? Again she had no proof, except the broken railing on the balcony and the scratches on her hands and arms. But she hadn’t seen her attacker. She couldn’t give a description. So what purpose would be served by bringing in the police—except, perhaps, to make herself look like a fool?

  What she needed to do now was talk to David. She wasn’t exactly thinking straight at the moment, and a cooler head was needed. David would know what to do.

  Drawing on jeans and a T-shirt, Bradlee unlocked her door and peered into the hallway. No one was about. She was just about to let herself out, when David’s door opened and a woman walked out.

  Shocked, Bradlee quickly stepped behind her own door, but left it open enough so that she could see down the hallway. The woman was tall, dark, and exotically beautiful, the most gorgeous creature Bradlee had ever seen. But what made her even more striking was the white lace negligee she wore. Even in the dim light of the hallway, h
er lithe body was silhouetted beneath the filmy fabric, leaving nothing to the imagination.

  Bradlee knew who she was immediately. The intimate way she turned her head and smiled back into the room could only mean one thing. Rachel Hollingsworth, David’s fianc;aaee, had been invited to the party and had shown up late. That was why David hadn’t come up to the nursery as planned.

  Bradlee felt a sick sensation in the pit of her stomach. There was no way she could compete with Rachel Hollingsworth. Bradlee had worked with beautiful models most of her adult life, and had never felt particularly intimidated. She’d never had any illusions about on her own appearance, had accepted long ago that she had the kind of girl-next-door looks that were pleasant enough but would never stop traffic.

  Rachel Hollingsworth would not only stop traffic, she would create a monumental traffic jam.

  In a moment, David appeared in the doorway. He still wore his tuxedo pants, but he’d removed his jacket and his white shirt was unbuttoned. It took little imagination to figure out that a reunion had been taking place in his room. In spite of what he’d said earlier, Bradlee didn’t think he’d been talking to Rachel.

  They were talking now, though, murmuring in such low tones that Bradlee couldn’t hear what they were saying. Not wanting to be caught eavesdropping, she eased her bedroom door closed and walked across the room to her bed. Sitting down on the edge, she felt frustrated tears pool in her eyes.

  She could have been killed tonight while David had been enjoying an intimate little reunion with his fianc;aaee. No matter what he’d said earlier about talking with Rachel, Bradlee didn’t think it would be that easy to break it off with a woman like her. What man would be able to resist her?

  Falling back on the bed, she held up her hands, examining the angry red scratches. While she’d been climbing down the trellis, David had been holding Rachel in his arms, kissing her as he’d kissed Bradlee earlier. But he wouldn’t have had to stop with Rachel. He didn’t owe Bradlee his fidelity. He didn’t owe her anything. They were hardly more than strangers, really—two people who’d been brought back together because of an old tragedy.