While the mother of his son, the creator of life, drove in a stolen wagon.
Oh, he would pay.
She stood in the open doorway, swaying as her mind rolled in circles, buzzing rings of rage and confusion and terrible love. She forgot where she was, what she was, why. Then the purpose looped around once more.
Could she risk a light? Dare she? She must, she must. She couldn’t see in the dark.
Not yet.
Though her fingers shook with cold as she lighted a lamp, she didn’t feel it. The heat still burned through her, and made her smile as she saw the hank of rope.
There now, that would do, that would do nicely.
She left the lamp burning, the door open as she walked back out into the rain.
WHEN HARPER TURNED, reached for her, she wasn’t there. He half woke, stretching his arm out farther, expecting to meet her skin.
“Hayley?”
He murmured her name, pushed onto his elbow. His first thought was that she’d gone in to Lily, but he heard nothing from the bedside monitor.
It took him a few seconds longer to realize what he did hear.
The rain was too loud. Pushing up quickly he saw the terrace doors were open. He rolled out, grabbing his jeans.
“Hayley!” He dragged on his jeans, bolted for the door. He saw nothing but the rain and the dark.
Rain pelted him, his heart constricted to an ice chip in his chest. On a panicked oath, he rushed back inside, and into Lily’s room.
The baby slept, peacefully. Her mother wasn’t there.
He strode back to the bedroom, grabbed the monitor, and, shoving it in his back pocket, went out to find her.
Calling for her, he bolted down the steps. The carriage house, he thought. He’d always believed Amelia had gone there. The night he’d seen her in the garden when he’d been a child, he’d been sure that’s where she’d been going.
Her gown had been wet and muddy, he remembered as he ran. As if she’d been in the rain.
He knew his way, even in the dark. There was no turn of the path that wasn’t familiar to him. He saw his front door hanging open, felt a trip of relief.
“Hayley!” He slapped on the light as he rushed in.
The floor was wet, and muddy footprints crossed the room, into the kitchen. He knew the house was empty even before he called for her again, before he ran through it, heart thundering, looking for her.
This time he grabbed the phone, speed-dialing as he ran back out.
“Mama, Hayley’s gone. She went outside. I can’t find her. She’s—oh Jesus, I see her. Third floor. She’s on the third floor terrace.”
He tossed the phone aside and kept running.
She didn’t turn when he shouted her name, but continued to cross the terrace like a wraith. His feet skidded on wet stone, and flowers were crushed as he leaped off the path into beds to cut to the stairs leading up.
Lungs burning, heart screaming, he bounded up.
He reached the third level as she flung open a door.
She hesitated when he called out to her, and slowly turned her head to face him. And smiled. “Death for life.”
“No.”
He made the last leap, grabbed her arm and jerked her inside out of the rain. “No,” he said again, and wrapped his arms around her. “Feel me. You know who I am. You know who you are. Feel me.”
He tightened his grip when she struggled. Held her close and warm even as her head whipped from side to side and her teeth snapped like a wild dog’s.
“I will have my son!”
“You have a daughter. You have Lily. Lily’s sleeping. Hayley, stay with us.”
And swept her up in his arms when her body sagged.
“I’m cold. Harper, I’m cold.”
“It’s all right. You’re all right.” He carried her across the wide ballroom with its ghostly dust sheets as rain lashed windows.
Before he reached the door, Mitch shoved it open. After one quick glance, Mitch let out a breath. “Your mother went to check on Lily. What happened?”
“Not now.” With Hayley shivering in his arms, Harper moved by Mitch. “We’ll deal with it later. She needs to get warm and dry. The rest will have to wait.”
nineteen
HE HAD HER bundled in a blanket from neck to toe, and sat behind her on the bed drying her hair with a towel.
“I don’t remember getting up. I don’t remember going out.”
“Are you warm enough?”
“Yeah.” Except for the sheen of ice inside her bones. She wondered if any heat would ever reach that deep in her again. “I don’t know how long I was out there.”
“You’re back now.”
She reached back, laid a hand over his. He needed warmth and comfort as much as she did. “You found me.”
He pressed a kiss to her damp hair. “I always will.”
“You took Lily’s monitor.” And that, she thought, meant even more. “You remembered to take it. You didn’t leave her alone.”
“Hayley.” He wrapped his arms around her, pressed his cheek to hers. “I won’t leave either of you alone.” Then laid a hand on her belly. “Any of you. I swear it.”
“I know. She doesn’t believe in promises, or faith, or love. I do. I believe in us, with everything I’ve got.” She turned her head so her lips could brush his. “I didn’t always, but I do now. I have everything. She has nothing.”
“You can feel sorry for her? After this? After everything?”
“I don’t know what I feel for her. Or about her.” It felt so wonderful to be able to lean her head back, rest it on his good, strong shoulder. “I thought I understood her, at least a little. We were both in a kind of similar situation. I mean, getting pregnant, and not wanting the baby at first.”
“You’re nothing alike.”
“Harper, erase the personalities, and your feelings for just a minute. Look at it objectively, like you do at work. Look at the situation. We were both unmarried and pregnant. Not loving the father, not wanting to see our lives changed, burdened even. Then coming to want the baby. In different ways, for different reasons, but coming to want the baby so much.”
“Different ways and different reasons,” he repeated. “But all right, I can see that, on the surface, there’s a pattern.”
The door opened. Roz came in with a tray. “I’m not going to disturb you. Harper, you see that she drinks this.” After setting the tray at the foot of the bed, Roz skirted around to the side. She took Hayley’s face in her hand, kissed her cheek. “You get some rest.”
Harper reached out, took Roz’s hand for a moment. “Thanks, Mama.”
“You need anything, you call.”
“She didn’t have anyone to take care of her,” Hayley said quietly when the door closed behind Roz. “No one to care about her.”
“Who did she care about? Who did she care for? Obsession isn’t caring,” he added before Hayley could speak. He eased away to get up, pour the tea. “What was done to her sucked big-time. No argument, no debate. But you know what? There aren’t any heroes in her sad story.”
“There should be. There should always be heroes. But no.” She took the tea. “She wasn’t heroic. Not even tragic, like Juliet. She’s just sad. And bitter.”
“Calculating,” he added. “And crazy.”
“That, too. She wouldn’t have understood you. I think I know her well enough now to be sure of that. She wouldn’t have understood your heart, or your honesty. That’s sad, too.”
He walked to the doors. He was getting the soaker he’d wished for and could stand there, watch the earth drink in the rain.
“She was always sad.” He reached inside, beyond his anger and found the pity. “I could see it even when I was a kid, and she’d be in my room, singing. Sad and lost. Still I felt safe with her, the way you do when you’re with someone you know cares about you. She cared, on some level, for me, for my brothers. I guess that has to count for something.”
“She still cares, I feel that. She just gets confused. Harper, I can’t remember.”
She lowered the cup, and emotion swam into her eyes. “Not like I could the other times it happened. I could see, at least a part of me could. I don’t know how to explain. But this time, it’s mixed up, and I can’t see. Not all of it. Why was she going into the ballroom? What did she do there?”