“And you never heard a sound? No footsteps, door opening, the baby didn’t cry?”
She shook her head. “I was exhausted, I hadn’t been sleeping much, I don’t know how…why he didn’t cry.” Her voice broke off and she looked away, unable to keep the emotions at bay or tell him about the sedative she’d taken. The one she had refused, but the one she suspected their maid, Antonia, had slipped into her tea to calm her from the ordeal with her father and the man he’d wanted her to marry.
Night studied her for a long moment as if he was trying to strip her defenses and read her mind, uncover her secrets. Then he slowly dropped his gaze back to the crib. He ran his strong hands over the edge of the baby bed, stroking the blanket as if it held a connection to him or might offer him answers as to who had taken Schyler. His jaw was a solid rock, his cheekbones so defined her heart squeezed. Her son would share that same profile one day.
“The baby’s name is Schyler?” His voice sounded more hoarse than normal, strains of his Native heritage filtering through.
She nodded, her heart breaking. “North Schyler Langworthy.”
A muscle twitched in his jaw. The flare of anguish that deepened his brown eyes to black sucked the air from her lungs.
Now, he knew the baby was his.
He remembered telling her that romantic story about his ancestors.
How could he even think she’d been with another man after that incredible evening?
“I’m sorry, Night…I—” her voice broke, the pain of the last week, of her father’s humiliating accusations the evening Night had walked out of her life resurfacing. Her father had never let her forget the depth of her sins for taking Night to her bed. Especially when he had discovered she was pregnant. And Night had never looked back. She had needed him….
“Did you ever plan to tell me I had a son?”
“I…wanted to,” Holly said, knowing her excuse would sound weak to his ears. But she had to try to make him understand. “You left and you never called, you never came back. I didn’t know how to contact you.”
“You didn’t try.” Steely rage underscored his softly spoken words.
She shook her head violently. In spite of her father’s fury, she had tried to find Night. “I did look for you, but you just disappeared, and then I…I was ashamed that I’d seduced you. You’d told me all along that you didn’t want me, that you would never be tied down, that you were like a wild wolf, free forever.” Her words rushed out, the contempt in his expression seemingly mounting with every word she spoke. “I didn’t think you’d want to be trapped into marrying me. And I was afraid you’d think I got pregnant on purpose.”
He squared his shoulders, fisting his hands by his sides as if fighting for control. “You were going to marry Sanders and let him raise my baby as his? Were you seeing him before the night we were together?”
“No.” Holly felt the color drain from her face. He couldn’t know the truth.
“Did Sanders kidnap the baby? Is he working for your father?”
“What?”
“Did your family arrange this kidnapping to get publicity for Joshua’s campaign?” He pinned her with a look that burned straight through to her soul. “Did you help them or did Sanders? Are you hiding our baby somewhere until after your brother is elected governor?”
She staggered backward at the depth of his distrust. “No,” she whispered. “Heavens, no. I swear it.” Defenses she hadn’t known she possessed flourished, then anger followed. “How can you suggest such a horrible thing? You have no idea the hell I’ve been through. You walked out of here the night we were together and left me alone to deal with everything, my father, the pregnancy. You never once looked back or tried to contact me. What was I supposed to think?”
“I had no idea you were pregnant because you didn’t bother to tell me,” he ground out. “Your family kept it a secret until the baby was kidnapped.”
“They were trying to avoid a media frenzy,” Holly argued. “And Daddy wanted to protect me. It’s not like you actually cared. I didn’t think you wanted me, much less a baby.”
“I do want my son,” he said, his words cold and clipped, leaving no doubt in her mind that he didn’t want her. “And make no mistake, Holly, when I find our baby, he will know his father. And his heritage.”
He gave her one last look of disgust, then turned and stalked down the stairs, his booted feet clacking on the marble foyer just before the door slammed behind him.
Holly leaned over the crib, tears overflowing.
Another reason she hadn’t contacted him—her father had warned her that Night might try to take the baby from her, that the laws might even give him custody, let him carry their son to live on one of the reservations. She’d even wondered if Night might have discovered she’d had his baby and kidnapped him himself. And when her worst fears had overwhelmed her this past week, when she’d pictured her helpless infant at the mercy of a crazy person or a killer, she’d actually hoped that Night might have taken him. At least then she would know her son was safe.
But Night obviously hadn’t.
Her world spun, crumbling around her.
Where was her precious little boy? Was he still alive? She looked up through the window at the inky sky.
Was he out there somewhere, alone and scared, crying for his mother?
Chapter One
Late November
Where was her baby?
It had been four months since he’d gone missing. She’d thought for sure she’d have him back in her arms by Thanksgiving. Now Thanksgiving had come and gone.
Holly sat on the edge of her seat in her father’s study, twisting her sweating hands together, as she waited on him to finish the phone call.
Something was wrong.
She saw it in the way her father pulled at his chin and angled his face away from her. Between his hushed phone calls with the FBI and local police the past few days, the barrage of extra security on the house, the press hounding them and the claustrophobic feel of hiding out between the walls of the mansion for the past four months, her nerves had reached the hysteria level.
Why hadn’t they received a ransom note?
Why hadn’t someone called with information? And why didn’t her father tell her everything that was going on?
With every day that passed, the chances of finding her son grew slimmer and slimmer. She wasn’t sure she could take it anymore.
Her father dropped the phone into its cradle, sighed and pivoted in his leather chair to face her. His expression looked worried, but commanding, as always. Once again, she sensed he was holding back, hiding things from her. Why?
“Did they find anything?”
Her father shook his head slowly, drumming fingers on his chin. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. There’s no news.”
“There’s something,” Holly said, her voice a mere whisper. “I can see it in your eyes, Daddy. Now, tell me.”
He hesitated, then looked back at Holly’s mother, who had moved to stand behind him, one delicate hand placed on his shoulder. Her mother—the weaker one on the surface, but behind the scenes, the rock of the family, the one always offering support.
“I’m afraid the FBI’s ready to call this a cold case. They’ll leave the phone surveillance intact, but may have to pull back some on the investigation. Other cases…”
He let the sentence trail off and Holly sucked in a sharp breath. “They