“Does he act up like that all the time?”
The question was a criticism of the boy that was almost impossible to tolerate, though she managed to do it.
“He’s very well behaved, Mr. Pierce. He didn’t get a good nap on the way out, so he’s out of sorts. And this is a new place. He’s shy with people he doesn’t know, and I’m glad of that. I hope you’ll be patient. He’s really a very good little boy. Very good.”
She took a shaky breath, compelled to win some sign of softening on Pierce’s harsh face. “He’s only two years old.”
Her voice broke on the words so she went silent and tried not to look as terrified for Cody—and as worried about Logan Pierce’s obvious displeasure—as she felt.
“Why are you glad?”
The odd question threw her for a moment, but he helpfully supplied a reminder.
“You said he’s shy with people he doesn’t know. Why are you glad?”
Claire sensed more than a trace of anger behind the question, as if he’d taken her remarks personally.
“I’m sure you read the papers and listen to the news, Mr. Pierce. A child who’s too friendly with strangers is at risk, so yes, I’m glad he’s leery of strangers. I’m sure he’ll be fine once he gets to know you. Please don’t be offended.”
The heavy silence that descended was rife with undercurrents. As intimidating as Logan Pierce was, Claire couldn’t seem to keep from staring.
The man wasn’t handsome, at least not in the conventional way. His weathered tan gave the impression of Native ancestry that went with his almost black hair and midnight eyes. And yet it was his very ruggedness that would make him a standout anywhere he went.
He was tall and wide-shouldered, with strong arms and long, powerful legs. He obviously spent the bulk of his time outdoors doing hard physical labor, and the blue plaid shirt he wore with the cuffs folded back, his jeans and scuffed black boots were clearly work clothes.
The overall impression was raw masculinity unrelieved by any trace of softness. Claire knew already that he was a tyrant who was used to getting his way, either by the sheer overpowering force of his will or by buying it. He’d used both to stake his claim to Cody and he’d been soundly successful.
But did he have it in him to extend some small particle of mercy to the woman he’d so decisively trounced in court? Claire would gladly forego any possible concession to her in exchange for his pledge to be gentle and understanding with the boy.
Cody’s whispered, “Wanna go home, Mommy,” wasn’t quite enough of a whisper.
If it was possible, Logan Pierce’s harsh expression went harsher. Claire sensed right away that he blamed her for the boy’s eagerness to leave. She broke contact with his cold gaze to speak with the child.
“We came to visit your uncle Logan, sweetheart. Remember? We brought your toys so you’d have plenty to play with in case your uncle didn’t have many toys.”
Claire persuaded the boy to loosen his hold on her neck so he could see her face. She made herself smile. “Maybe we can have Uncle Logan help us bring in a few things. Would you like that? I’m sure he’d like to see your cars.”
“No, Momma,” Cody said, his little face the picture of distress before he cuddled close again. “I wanna go home,” he said, then burst into tears.
The sound wounded her and she looked over at Logan. “Do you have a rocking chair?” If she could get Cody to settle down enough to finish his nap, it would make all the difference.
Logan didn’t reply to that, but instead turned to walk to the wide doorway he’d entered the room by moments ago. He obviously expected her to follow, so she gathered up her handbag and the large cloth bag of Cody’s things. She awkwardly balanced her hold on the sobbing child with one arm as she swung the long straps of both bags over her shoulder and started around the long sofa.
When she got to the hall, she turned in the direction Logan had gone. She passed the open double doors to a formal dining room before she reached a second long hall to the left that apparently led to the bedroom end of the large house. Claire hadn’t realized that the house was laid out in an L-shape. Somehow she’d not noticed it, possibly because the ranch driveway had brought her directly toward the house and she’d been too upset over finally arriving to pay attention.
Her ungracious host was waiting outside the door of a bedroom and she ignored his deepening frown when his dark gaze dropped to note the large bag that no doubt looked as heavy and cumbersome as it felt.
A gentleman would have offered to carry it for her, but because he might not have seen it sitting on the floor during his brief visit to the living room, he’d not had an opportunity to be helpful.
On the other hand, the rude way he’d walked out of the living room to lead the way here, easily outdistancing her and the sobbing boy as if they were both too disruptive to tolerate, made her conclude that chivalrous acts—if he even knew what those were—weren’t automatically conferred on those he deemed unworthy of them.
And this was the creature who would raise Cody.
Claire turned carefully with her burdens to walk through the doorway, and the sight of the bedroom made her heart fall. It was a child’s room, a little boy’s, and it had obviously been decorated by a professional. It was another hurtful reminder that Cody’s place was here now, and not with her. Everything, from the wallpaper to the drapes to the beds—and there were two of those—had been beautifully coordinated.
A variety of charming baby animals made up the wallpaper design that covered the walls above the glossy wood wainscoting, and were picked up again by a couple of lamps on the dresser and chest of drawers. The baby animals were repeated on the coverlets of both beds. A huge wooden rocking horse that looked as if it had been handcrafted generations ago sat in a corner.
A gigantic toy box with a safety-hinged lid stood open in another corner, but the area in front of low triple windows featured a miniature wood table and four little chairs. Two bookcases were half-filled with books that looked so new they might have been bought in a bookstore that day.
One of the two beds was a baby bed, but the other was a single bed with a solid wood headboard. Claire guessed right away that the tall silent man who’d followed her into the room had decreed the choice of both. First because he didn’t know which bed size was appropriate for the boy’s age and wouldn’t humble himself enough to ask, and second because he was a man with too much money to worry about an unnecessary cost.
Unless he’d figured the baby bed, if not needed, could be used by a future son or daughter of his own. Claire didn’t know much about Logan Pierce but she did know he was single, though after her unpleasant encounters with him, it was her opinion that the baby bed would go to waste. She couldn’t imagine that any principled woman would be willing to marry such a cold-blooded man and allow him to father her children, not even to have access to his fortune.
Claire carried Cody directly to the rocking chair that sat between the baby bed and the regular bed. She took a moment to pull a diaper out of the cloth bag before she let the shoulder straps to both her bags slide down her arm to the floor and turned with the boy to the baby bed.
With the ease of long practice, she managed to hold the boy and the diaper while she lowered the side of the bed. She laid him on the quilt-covered mattress then unhooked the boy’s little overalls to change him. The moment she got him fastened back up, she lifted Cody and carried him to the private bathroom that had also been expertly decorated. She disposed of the diaper, then set the fussy child on the counter next to the sink while she washed her hands.
When she finished