His Seductive Proposal

Five

Kieran had wondered if she would come. It wouldn’t have surprised him if she had used jet lag or some other excuse to postpone this meeting, yet here she was. In casual clothes and with her hair pulled back, she seemed scarcely old enough to be the mother of a five-year-old child. “Come in,” he said, feeling his muscles clench as she slipped past him. “Would you like some wine?”

“Yes,” she said, her voice husky and low. “White, please.”

He handed her a glass of the zinfandel he remember she liked and motioned for her to be seated. His suite, like the one he had chosen for her, included a bedroom, a lavish bath and this sitting room.

Olivia perched primly on a comfy chair, her knees together, ankles and feet aligned. Her curvy ass filled out the jeans she wore in a mouth-drying way. And that sweater. Jesus. Had she dressed this way deliberately to throw him off track?

Kieran remained standing, finishing his drink and setting the glass aside. “Cammie is mine,” he said slowly, still stunned by the notion. “Without a doubt. But you told me six years ago that you were taking the pill.”

She grimaced. “I was. But one morning I forgot to take it, and I found it lying by the sink when I got ready for bed that night. I swallowed it down right away, but obviously the damage was already done.”

“Hmm.” He was itchy, nervous, unsettled as hell. Tiptoeing through a minefield, that’s what this was. He cleared his throat. “We’re done with dancing around this, Olivia. I need to hear you say it. Tell me that Cammie is my daughter.”

When she remained stubbornly silent, he sighed. “Do you want to know the real reason I didn’t contact you after I left England?”

Shock flashed across her face, and she nodded cautiously, looking at him as if waiting for bad news from a doctor.

He ran both hands through his hair, searching for the right words. “After we had been together for a couple of weeks, you began telling me stories from your childhood… about what it was like to be the daughter of world famous celebrities. How there were always bodyguards and races to avoid paparazzi. You said you hated the isolation and never being able to play at a friend’s house. You told me you weren’t allowed to go to school, but instead, had private tutors. Do you remember saying all that?”

She nodded, frowning. “Of course.”

“Well, what I couldn’t tell you was that your story mirrored my own in many ways. We both suffered growing up, and I understood completely your feelings of being trapped, of wanting to fly the coop. You said on more than one occasion that all you wanted out of life was to be normal. To raise any children you might have like regular people.”

Grimacing, she took a sip of wine. “You really listened.”

“I did. And that’s why I never called. It’s not ego talking when I say that I knew you were falling in love with me. I felt the same way. You weren’t like any girl I had ever dated, and I wanted you so badly I couldn’t think straight half the time.”

“You never said anything.”

“I thought you’d be able to tell how I felt when we were making love. And I didn’t want to bare my soul when you knew me as Kevin Wade. If I told you I loved you, I wanted you to know I was Kieran.”

“And when your father had his heart attack?”

“It shook me. The night before I had called him and asked permission to tell you the truth. He was terribly upset, and the next morning I got the call that he’d been taken to the hospital. It felt like I had caused the heart attack, and maybe I did.”

“So you decided before you ever left England that we were over?”

“If I’m being honest… yes. I knew I could never give you what you needed, and I didn’t want to hurt you. My family is not normal. So it seemed kinder in the long run to end things before we both got in too deep. No matter how far I try to run from it, I’ll always be a Wolff, and the money will always make me and those I love a target. You have this dream of being a PTA mom and having a white picket fence. There’s not a place for me in that scenario.”

He thought his explanation would make her feel better. Instead, she looked furious.

“What gives you the right to make decisions for me, to map out my life?” she said angrily. “I had nothing but lies to go on, Kevin Wade. You’re an arrogant ass.” Her eyes flashed fire at him and her chest heaved.

How the hell did he become the bad guy, when he was only trying to protect her from hurt? “Tell me that Cammie is mine,” he demanded through clenched teeth.

Her lustrous eyes were wounded, her lips pale where she had pressed them together so hard. “Your sperm may have generated her life, but Cammie is my daughter.”

His heart caught in his throat and he sank onto the sofa, not for the world willing to admit that his knees had gone weak. “So you’re admitting we made a baby?”

Olivia’s face softened, and she came to sit beside him. Not touching but close. “Of course we did. Have you looked at her?”

Fury built in his belly. “How could you keep her from me for five long years? Damn it, Olivia. Do you have any idea what I’ve missed?” He vaulted to his feet, unable to bear her presence so close. He didn’t know whether to kiss her in gratitude for giving him a child or to strangle her for her deception.

He was shaking all over, and the weakness and turmoil he experienced infuriated him. Grief for the time he would never recoup mingled with wonder that a part of him lay asleep in a nearby room.

“When can we tell her?”

Olivia went white. “It’s not the kind of thing you blurt out. Maybe you should get to know her first.”

“In three days?” He was incredulous that she didn’t understand his urgency. “Guess again. I’m keeping her here this summer.”

“You can’t.”

“Oh, yes,” he said in dead earnest. “I can and I will. Both of you will move in here for the duration.”

“You can’t order me,” she whispered, anguish marking her face.

He shrugged. “I’m not being unreasonable. Your work can be done anywhere. She’s not in school yet. If you don’t agree, I’ll take you to court. I know plenty of judges who frown on parents who kidnap their own kids.”

“I didn’t kidnap her. That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“You kept her existence a secret from her father. Semantics, Olivia. I’m calling the shots now.”

“You’re bluffing.”

He felt a tingle of sympathy for her distress, but only that. She’d do well to understand that he fought for what was his. “It wouldn’t be such a terrible thing, would it? To spend time here on the mountain?”

Clearly unconvinced, she frowned stubbornly as she stood up and crossed the room to stand nose to nose with him. “I can’t turn my life upside down overnight. You’re a bully.”

He grinned, feeling suddenly lighthearted and free. A daddy. He was a daddy.

Olivia cocked her head. “What’s so funny?”

“You. Me. Life in general.”

“I don’t see any humor in this situation at all,” she huffed.

He scooped her up, lifting her until his belt buckle pressed into her stomach. Her arms went around his neck. “Thank you, Olivia, for giving me Cammie.” He kissed her nose.

“She’s not a thing to give. But you’re welcome.”

He slid his lips across hers, tasting the flavors of the coffee and lemon pie she had consumed earlier. “One summer,” he coaxed.

“One weekend,” she countered.

He palmed her ass, pulling her into his thrusting erection. The clothes separating them were a frustration. So he set her on her feet and began undressing her.

Olivia went beet-red and batted at his hands. “What do you think you’re doing?” she sputtered. “Sex won’t make me change my mind.”

“The decision’s already made.” He groaned aloud as he peeled away her sweater and revealed a mauve demi-bra barely concealing its bounty. “Sweet heaven. Please don’t stop me, Olivia. I need you more than my next breath.” His body was one huge ache that concentrated in his hard erection.

Her eyelids fluttered shut as her shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh. He removed the remainder of her clothing posthaste. The well-washed jeans, the socks and shoes, the scanty bra and, finally, the lacy thong.

Was it possible that he had forgotten how gorgeous she was? Full breasts with light brown centers topped a narrow waist and hourglass hips. He must have been insane six years ago. How had he left her?

He weighed both her breasts in his hands. “Look at me, Olivia.”

She opened her eyes and what he saw there humbled him. Sadness, resignation, need. “This won’t solve anything, Kieran.”

He nodded, refusing to let the future taint the moment. “Then don’t think. Just let me make you feel.”

A bleak smile lifted the corners of her lips. “Do you think you’re that irresistible? You have a bad habit of wanting to run the show.”

“I’ll work on my failings,” he promised, ready to agree to anything as long as she stayed in this room with him for the next half hour.

“What makes you think I’ll be lured into your bed given our history?”

“It’s because of our history that I believe it. We could never keep our hands off each other, and you know it.”

“I won’t have Cammie be hurt or confused by any relationship we might initiate.”

“Of course not. This is no one’s business but ours.”

“Someone might come in,” she said, nibbling her bottom lip.

“I locked the door, I swear.”

“And the housekeeper?”

“I told her you’d be back no later than eleven-thirty.”

Her face flamed again. “Oh, my God, Kieran. Don’t you think she knows we’re across the hall having sex?”

“We’re not having sex,” he pointed out ruefully.

“You know what I mean.”

His hands moved to her waist, petting her, soothing her. “She thinks we went for a walk in the moonlight. And she’s a romantic soul. Quit worrying.”

For one interminable heartbeat he thought Olivia would refuse him. But finally she nodded as if coming to some unknown decision. Her hands went to his belt buckle. “If we have a curfew, I suppose we’d better not waste any time.”

“I agree,” he said fervently, batting her hands away and ripping off his clothing in two quick swipes as he toed off his shoes.

Her eyes rounded in a gratifying way as she took stock of his considerably aroused state. “I seem to have forgotten a few things about you,” she said, cupping him in her hands.

He sucked in a breath between clenched teeth. “I’m on a hair trigger, Olivia. It’s been a while. Maybe you shouldn’t touch me.”

“There you go again, bossing me around.” She dropped to her knees on the plush carpet and licked him daintily.

The shock of it ricocheted through his body like streaks of fire. He cursed, gripping her head, and with one snap of his wrist breaking the band that held her ponytail in place. That fabulous hair tumbled across her cheeks, around his straining penis. The eroticism of the image sent him over the edge, and he came with a ragged shout.

They collapsed to the floor and Olivia lay beside him, a small, pensive smile on her face.

He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Was that meant to prove something?”

“Maybe. I’m not a kid anymore, Kieran. I’m a woman, and I’ve been running my life for six years without your help.”

“But you have to admit that when we do things together, the results are pretty spectacular.”

“Is that a sexual reference?”

“Could be, but in this case I was talking about Cammie.”

She curled into him, hooking one long, slender leg over his thigh. “I can’t argue with that.”

He stroked her hair. “We don’t have to be adversaries.”

“As long as you understand that you can’t ride roughshod over my feelings and opinions. And we don’t have to be a couple.”

“Fair enough.”

She touched him intimately. “If you’re trying to manipulate me with sex, it won’t work.”

His erection flexed and thickened. “Understood.”

“Then I think we’re on the same page.”

He stood and pulled her to her feet. “Bed this time,” he grunted, reduced to one syllable words. He lifted her into his arms and deposited her in the center of his large mattress. The old Olivia would have pulled a sheet over herself immediately, but this more mature version lifted one knee, propped her head on her hand and smiled.

It was the smile of a woman learning her own power. Kieran was not immune. He sprawled beside her and entertained himself by relearning every curve and dip of her feminine body.

Olivia melted for him, her soft gasps and tiny cries filling him with determination to pleasure her as she had never been pleasured before. He brought her to the brink with his hands and then moved between her legs. At the last moment he remembered the need for a condom. He wasn’t taking any chances this time.

Not that he considered Cammie a mistake, but because he needed to learn how to be a father. One child was enough for the moment.

He sheathed himself in the latex and positioned the head of his penis against Olivia’s warm, moist flesh. She was pink and perfect, her sex swollen where he had teased her.

Her eyes were shut. “Look at me,” he insisted. When she obeyed, he drove into her, eliciting groans from both of them. Her body squeezed him, begged him not to leave. Panting, he withdrew and surged deep again. “We’re good this way,” he muttered. “So damn good.”

The truth of the statement tormented him.

He was not a family man. After a lifetime of living caged up, he needed the freedom he found in anonymous villages on the other side of the world. Olivia was important to him, and Cammie was part of him, flesh and blood.

But what did it matter when he was condemned to be alone? Loving meant loss, and he’d had his share of that.

Olivia’s sultry smile was drowsy. “Does it have to end?”

Even the question was enough to send heat streaking down his spine, sparking into his balls and rushing through the part of him that longed for release. His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck corded and he shouted half in relief, half in awe when his body shuddered in the throes of a climax that left him weak.

Dimly he was aware that Olivia joined him at the end.

Panting, half addled from the scalding deluge of release, he rolled to his back, dragging her on top of him, their bodies still joined.

“Stay the night.” The words were muffled as he buried his face in her cleavage.

“I can’t,” she said, disentangling their limbs and rolling to sit on the side of the bed.

“I could come to your room.”

Her body stilled, her back to him. “No.”

As he watched, only momentarily sated, she dressed rapidly and finger-combed her hair. He frowned, already missing the feel of her in his arms. “Dismiss the housekeeper and come back. We could set an alarm so you’ll be in your room by morning.”

“I have responsibilities,” she said, not meeting his gaze.

“And that precludes meeting your needs as a woman?”

She stopped at the door and faced him across the room. In her eyes he saw regret and resolution. “I can’t afford to get involved with you again. Sharing a daughter will be hard enough. Let’s view tonight as one for Auld Lang Syne and put it behind us.”

“I’m not a fan of that plan. It wouldn’t hurt for Cammie to see us getting along.”

“We can be civil without starting something we can’t finish. I’m here for a very short time. And unlike you, I don’t happen to see recreational sex as an appropriate lifestyle.”

Now he was pissed. “Who said anything about recreational sex?”

He strode to where she stood backed up against the door and got in her face. “I’m attracted to you, Olivia Delgado. I like you. And as of today, I know we share a child. Any intimacies we indulge in are far from casual.”

She licked her lips, her eyes huge. “You’re bullying me again,” she whispered.

Damn it. He was hard. And hungry. And mad as hell that she seemed to see him as some kind of a lowlife. He backed up two feet and crossed his arms over his chest. “You have more power than you think. But I won’t be pushed away.”

She reached behind her for the knob and opened the door. Since he was buck naked, and knowing that one of the housekeepers sat just across the hall, he didn’t have a prayer of stopping her.

But his chest was tight when he closed the door and banged his forehead against the unforgiving wood. She was making him crazy. Two steps forward… one step back. Perhaps it was time for a change of plan. He would get to know his daughter, and in the meantime, maybe Olivia would acknowledge the fire that burned between them and return to his bed on her own.

Six

A strange house. Odd night sounds. And dreams that were riddled with images of Kieran Wolff. No wonder Olivia slept poorly. She had no more defenses against him now than she had as a naive university student. All he had to do was crook his little finger and she fell into his arms without protest.

It was infuriating and humbling and, if she were honest, exciting. Her days since Cammie was born had been pleasant. And the white-picket-fence life she had so deliberately created was good. Really good. But what woman—still two years shy of thirty—should be willing to settle for that?

Kieran’s recent intrusion into her life was a jolt of adrenaline. Now she was scared and aroused and worried and challenged, but she wasn’t bored.

Finally, at 4:00 a.m., she fell into a deep sleep, only to be awakened at the crack of dawn when Cammie crawled into bed with her. Crossing three time zones was not an easy adjustment for a child.

Olivia yawned. “Good morning, sweetheart.”

“What are we going to do today?” Cammie snuggled close, her small, warm body a comfort Olivia never tired of.

“I think Kieran wants to hang out with us. Is that okay?”

In the semidark, her daughter’s face was hard to read. “Yep. I like him.”

That was it. Four short words. But hearing her daughter’s vote of confidence relieved at least some of Olivia’s concern.

Olivia dozed off again. When she woke, Cammie was gone, and light streamed into the room. Good Lord. She was a sweet kid, but mischievous at times. Olivia stumbled from her bed and rushed through the connecting passageway to Cammie’s whimsical bedroom. She stopped short when she realized that Cammie was sprawled on the floor on her stomach alongside Kieran, who was aligned in a similar position.

Both of them were playing with an expensive model train set. A small black engine choo-chooed its way around a figure-eight track. Seeing the two of them side by side wrenched something inside her chest and brought hot tears to her eyes. She blinked them back, refusing to dwell on what might have been.

Kieran looked up, his gaze raking her from head to toe, taking in the flimsy silk nightie that ended above her knees, her thinly covered breasts, her tousled hair. “Rough night, Olivia?”

His bland intonation was meant to bait.

“Slept like a baby,” she said, glaring at him when she thought her daughter wouldn’t see. Kieran looked delicious… clear-eyed and dressed casually in jeans and an old faded yellow oxford shirt with the sleeves rolled up. His big masculine feet were bare, and Olivia discovered that there was no part of him that didn’t make her heart beat faster.

He motioned to a nearby tray. “Cook sent up fresh scones and homemade blackberry jam. And there’s a carafe of coffee.”

Cammie had barely acknowledged her mother’s presence, too caught up in the new entertainment. Olivia shifted her feet, reluctant to parade in front of her host to get a much-needed cup of caffeine. The awkward silence grew.

Kieran took pity on her. “Go take a shower if you want to. I’ll pour you some coffee and set it on the nightstand. Okay?”

“Thanks,” she muttered, escaping to the privacy of her room. In twenty minutes she had showered and changed into trim khakis and a turquoise peasant shirt that left one shoulder bare. She hadn’t needed to wash her hair this morning, so she brushed it vigorously and left one swathe to lie over the exposed skin.

The coffee awaited as promised. She drank it rapidly and went in search of a second cup. What she saw stunned her. Cammie, often shy around strangers, sat in Kieran’s lap in a sunshine-yellow rocker as he read to her from an Eric Carle book.

The two of them looked up with identical expressions of inquiry. Cammie’s typical smile danced across her face. “You look pretty, Mommy. Kieran’s going to take us to the attic.”

Olivia glanced down ruefully at her fairly expensive outfit. “Do I need to change?”

Kieran laid the book aside and shook his head. “The Wolff attic is more of a carefully maintained museum than a dusty hiding place. You’ll be fine.”

While Cammie took another turn with the train, Kieran spoke, sotto voce to Olivia. “She’s right. You look lovely.” He brushed a kiss across her cheek. “I wanted you when I woke up this morning.”

The gravelly statement sent goose bumps up and down her arms. She glanced at Cammie, but the child was oblivious to the adult’s tension. “You shouldn’t say things like that. Not here. Not now.”

He shrugged, unrepentant, and suddenly she saw the source of Cammie’s mischievous grin. Circling Olivia’s waist with one arm, he pulled her close and whispered in her ear, his hot breath tickling sensitive skin. “If you had stayed in my bed last night, neither of us would have gotten any rest. Remember the evening after the Coldplay concert? We didn’t sleep that night at all.”

His naughty reminiscence was deliberate. In a hotel room high above the streets of London, they had fallen onto the luxurious bed, drunk on each other and the evening of evocative music. Again and again he had taken her, until she was sore and finally had to beg off.

The resultant apology and intimate sponge bath had almost broken his control and hers.

“Stop it,” she hissed. “That was a lifetime ago. We’re different people.”

“Perhaps. But I don’t think so.” He bit gently at her ear lobe, half turned so Cammie couldn’t see his naughty caress. “You make me ache, Olivia. Tell me you feel the same.”

She broke free of his embrace. “Cammie, are you ready for the attic?”

Kieran grimaced inwardly, realizing that he had already strayed from his plan. As long as he pushed, Olivia would run. Only time would tell if another tack would woo her in the right direction.

As they climbed the attic stairs, Cammie slipped her little hand into his with a natural trust that cut him off at the knees. Frankly it scared him spitless. What did he know about raising a kid? He’d been too young when his mother died to have many memories of her. And when his father imploded into a near breakdown, the only familial support Kieran had known was from his uncle, his two brothers and his cousins, all of whom were grieving as much or more than he was.

He halted Cammie at the top of the stairs. “Hold on, poppet. Let me get the switch.” It had been years since he had been up here, but the cavernous space hadn’t changed much. Polished hardwood floors, elegant enough for any ballroom, were illuminated with old-fashioned wall sconces as well as pure crystalline sunbeams from a central etched glass skylight. Almost thirty years of junk lay heaped in piles across the broad expanse.

Olivia’s face lit up. “This is amazing… like a storybook. Oh, Kieran. You were so lucky to grow up here.”

Though her comment hit a raw nerve, he realized that she meant it. Seeing the phenomenal house through a newcomer’s eyes made him admit, if only to himself, that not all his memories were unpleasant. How many hours had he and Gareth and Jacob and their cousins whiled away up here on rainy days? The adults had left them alone as long as they didn’t create a ruckus, and there was many a time when the attic had become Narnia, or a Civil War battlefield, or even a Star Wars landscape.

He cleared his throat. “It’s a wonderful place to play,” he said quietly, caught up in the web of memory. Across the room he spotted what he’d been looking for—a large red carton. He dragged it into an empty spot and grinned at Cammie. “This was my favorite toy.”

“I remember having some of these.” Olivia squatted down beside them and soon, the Lincoln Logs were transformed into barns and bridges and roads.

Kieran ruffled Cammie’s hair. “You’re good at building things,” he said softly, still struggling to believe that she was his.

“Mommy says I get that from my daddy.”

His gut froze. “Your daddy?”

“Uh-huh. He lives on the other side of the world, so we don’t get to see him.”

Kieran couldn’t look at Olivia. He stumbled to his feet. “Be right back,” he said hoarsely. He made a beeline for the stairs, loped down them and closed himself in the nearest room, which happened to be the library. His throat was so tight it was painful, and his head pounded. Closing his eyes and fisting his hands at his temples, he fought back the tsunami of emotion that had hit him unawares.

A child’s simple statement. We don’t get to see him…. How many times had Olivia talked to Cammie about her absentee father? And how many times had a small child wondered why her daddy didn’t care enough to show up?

His stomach churned with nausea. If he had known, things would have been different. Damn Olivia.

As he stood, rigid, holding himself together by sheer will, an unpalatable truth bubbled to the surface. He did live on the other side of the world. He’d logged more hours in the air than he’d spent in the States in the past five years. What would he have done if Olivia had found him and told him the truth?

His lies to her in England had been the genesis of an impossible Gordian knot. One bad decision led to another until now Kieran had a daughter he didn’t know, Olivia was afraid to trust him and Kieran himself didn’t have a clue what to do about the future.

When he thought he could breathe again, he returned to the attic. Cammie had lost interest in the Lincoln Logs, and she and Olivia were now playing with a pile of dress-up clothes. Cammie pirouetted, wearing a magenta tutu that had once belonged to Kieran’s cousin Annalise. “Look at me,” she insisted, wobbling as she tried to stand up in toe shoes.

Kieran stopped short of the two females, not trusting himself at the moment to behave rationally. “Very nice,” he croaked.

Olivia looked at him with a gaze that telegraphed inquiry and concern. “You okay?” she mouthed, studying him in a way that made him want to hide. He didn’t need or want her sympathy. She was the one who had stripped him of a father’s rights.

He nodded tersely. “I’ll leave you two up here to play for a while. I have some business calls to make.”

Olivia watched the tall, lean man leave, her heart hurting for him. In hindsight, she wondered if she and Kieran might have had a chance if he hadn’t lied about who he was, and if she had been able to get past her anger and righteous indignation long enough to notify him that she was having his baby.

It was all water under the bridge now. The past couldn’t be rewritten.

She and Cammie were on their own for most of the afternoon, despite Kieran’s insistence that he wanted to get to know his daughter. After lunch and a nap, Olivia took her daughter outside to explore the mountaintop. They found Gareth’s woodworking shop, and Cammie made friends with the basset hound, Fenton.

On this beautiful early summer day, Wolff Mountain was twenty degrees cooler than down in the valley, and Olivia fell in love with the peace and tranquility found in towering trees, singing birds and gentle breezes.

She and Cammie ran into Victor Wolff on the way back to the house. He was slightly stoop-shouldered, and his almost bald head glistened with sweat. From what Olivia had gleaned from the private investigator and from a variety of internet sources, Victor had been a decade and a half older than his short-lived bride… which meant he must now be banging on the door of seventy.

The old man stared at Cammie with an expression that made Olivia’s heart pound with anxiety. He shot a glance at Olivia. “The child has beautiful eyes. Very unusual.”

Olivia held her ground, battling an atavistic need to tuck her baby under her wing. “Yes, she may grow up to be a beauty like my mother.”

Cammie had no interest in adult conversation. She started picking flowers and dancing among the swaying fronds of a large weeping willow that cast a broad patch of shade. Victor’s eyes followed her wistfully. “I may die before I get to see any grandchildren. Gareth is the only one of my sons who is married, and he and Gracie have decided to wait a bit to start their family.”

“Are you ill?” Olivia asked bluntly.

He shook his head, still tracking the child’s movements. “A bad heart. If I watch what I eat and remember to exercise, my son, the doc, says I probably have a few thousand more miles under the hood.”

“But you don’t believe him?”

“None of us knows how many days we have on this earth.”

“I’m sorry about your wife, Mr. Wolff. I can’t imagine how hard that must have been losing her so young.”

He shrugged. “We argued that day. Before she left to go shopping. She wanted to let the boys take piano lessons and I thought it was a sissy endeavor. I told her so in no uncertain terms.”

“And then she died.”

“Yes.” He aged before her eyes. “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, Olivia.”

“We all do, sir.”

“Perhaps. But I almost ruined my sons, keeping them locked up like prisoners. My brother, Vincent, was the same. Six children between us, vulnerable little babies. I was terrified, you know. My brother and I both were.”

“That’s understandable.” She began to feel a reluctant sympathy for the frail patriarch.

Suddenly his eyes shot fire at her, and the metamorphosis was so unexpected that Olivia actually took a step backward. “Kieran’s a good boy. It’s not his fault that the memories here keep him away.”