The Butler's Daughter. Joyce Sullivan

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СКАЧАТЬ strange, reclusive multimillionaire who’d sent Ross and Lexi a canoe as a wedding present? Juliana instantly recognized his name and remembered the rumors associated with it. Rumours of dementia. Wasn’t there a history of mental illness in the family? She didn’t give a damn if he was James Bond or the President of the United States. She was not surrendering Cort to him. Ross and Lexi had trusted The Guardian to find their daughter and protect them from harm. He’d failed on both counts.

      “Over my dead body,” she said sharply, breaking twenty years of protocol by raising her voice to her better. “You are not taking that baby away from me.”

      Hunter stiffened at the unexpected threat. Juliana Goodhew glared at him out of almond-shaped eyes that reminded him of richly polished mahogany. Her lips, bearing a faint trace of pink lipstick, thinned into a determined line.

      Ross had trained the nanny well. Slim and youthful in blue jeans and a thick creamy cotton sweater, her silver-blond hair escaping a French braid, Juliana looked ready to carry out her threat. Her hand moved, reaching behind her for the Glock he could see in the mirror on the far wall.

      Hunter cocked a brow, his hand snaking out to grab her wrist. He could snap the fragile bones in her arm with one movement. “Please, don’t for even one foolish moment, consider reaching for the gun at your back. I would hate to hurt you.”

      “Release me instantly,” she snapped, her face glowing white with anger.

      Hunter released her, eyeing her warily. The nanny he’d hired to care for his sister’s children would never dare speak to him like this. Nor was she this pretty, he noted, his inner radar for trouble sounding a silent alarm.

      “Thank you.” Frost clung to Juliana’s tone. “I repeat, you are not taking that baby from me. I don’t care who you are. Where were you when Riana was abducted? Or for Ross and Lexi? The Goodhews have served the Collingwoods for sixty-three years. The Collingwoods personally entrusted him to my care. He’s staying with me.” She folded her arms across her chest and drew herself up to her full height; the top of her head barely reached his chin.

      Grief lashed Hunter’s heart along with her accusations. He frowned down at her, hesitating between a grudging admiration for her show of loyalty to her charge and his innate suspicious nature. He knew painfully well that trusted servants betrayed their employers. Money could be a powerful motivator.

      He’d been nine years old when he’d seen pictures in the newspapers of his mother’s indiscretions with two of his father’s friends. The Sinclairs’ butler had secretly orchestrated a blackmail scheme, certain that Hunter’s father would pay up to prevent the photos from being released to the media. Convinced his wife would never betray him, Hunter’s father hadn’t met the blackmailer’s demands. Their marriage was destroyed when the pictures appeared and his mother committed suicide. His father had told Hunter and his sister that their mother had suffered from a mental illness.

      Hunter took in the sharp thrust of Juliana’s chin and the defensive stance of her body.

      He could count on one hand the other individuals who’d known the Collingwoods had another child. There was the doctor who’d delivered Cort. The lawyer who’d drawn up Ross’s and Lexi’s wills. Lexi’s sister Annette. And Juliana and her father. Yet someone had obviously gotten wind of the child’s existence, despite the care the Collingwoods had taken to keep Lexi in seclusion during her pregnancy.

      Where had the breach in security occurred?

      “Juliana, I have no intention of wrenching that child from your arms. Not now or in the near future,” he said, striving to reassure her. “But you are both coming with me. These are extraordinary circumstances. We will have to work together. I’m sure it has occurred to you that Cort was an intended target of the explosion, as well. Whoever planned it is undoubtedly aware that you’re caring for the child. That puts you both in danger.”

      “Why should I trust you? How do I know the almighty Guardian wasn’t behind the explosion?”

      He stepped toward her menacingly. “I know you are hurting and wanting someone to blame, but Ross was my best friend. I would never hurt him, nor was I after his money.” A bitter laugh erupted from him. “I have enough damn problems dealing with my own family fortune.”

      She didn’t budge an inch. “If you were so close, how come he never mentioned you? Oh, excuse me, your name was among the eight hundred others on the guest list to his wedding. But as I recall, you didn’t bother to attend.”

      Hunter towered over her, feeling the tension and the distrust emanating from her body like shrapnel. He just happened to be the nearest target. “How do you know that?”

      “I helped Lexi with the guest list. And I was there when your regrets arrived along with your wedding gift.” Her voice quavered, her brown eyes taking on a faraway cast as they glistened with fresh tears. “Ross had the canoe you sent put in the swimming pool so he could recite poetry to Lexi in the moonlight. He did, too.” She wiped away a tear slipping onto her cheek with a jerky movement. “He loved her so much.”

      Hunter risked squeezing her arm, needing the human contact with Juliana to help ground his own tormented feelings. So much of his life he’d mastered on his own, coldly and calmly discarding any emotions that got in the way of his job. But he’d lost a friend tonight—Ross had been an anchor—and Hunter was treading water to keep himself from sinking under into the pain. “I know. Ross and I met at Harvard. We were roommates our last year. In fact, he’s the one who nicknamed me The Guardian.” Pain laced his words. “I take the credit for teaching him how to be a little more ruthless in his judgment. We stayed close, but I was afraid I’d be recognized if I came to the wedding. Ross sent me a video of the ceremony.”

      She pulled away from his touch, leaving Hunter reeling alone in memories of his friendship with Ross. Her suspicions were still plainly apparent on her face.

      “You’ve never even been to the estate,” she said in a clipped tone. “I was a boy-crazy teenager in high school when Ross was bringing his friends home from Harvard. You weren’t among them.”

      His lips thinned. He knew the friends Juliana was referring to. She must have gotten quite an education from watching Ross with his self-indulgent buddies…if that was all she’d gotten. She’d probably been as pretty in high school as she was now. His impatience with the conversation grew.

      “Juliana, you’re wasting time with these questions. We must leave quickly. I’m obliged to trust you to keep The Guardian’s real identity confidential, and you’re going to have to trust me. Understood?” His gaze locked with hers, studying the shadows flickering in her unusual mahogany eyes like minnows darting in the shallows.

      Color rose from her pale throat and splashed onto her cheeks, but her voice was as suitably controlled and decorous as he would expect from an employee. “Quite, Mr. Sinclair.”

      Hunter nodded approvingly as he reached for the bags lying on the end of the bed. “My household doesn’t stand on the same ceremony as the Collingwood household. You may address me as Hunter in private. The Guardian is addressed as sir when he’s on duty. Clear enough?”

      She gave him a subdued smile. “Yes, sir.”

      “The chopper is waiting. You take the baby. I’ll carry your luggage.”

      “What about my car?” she asked as she slipped an apricot wool blazer over her sweater and transferred the Glock into one of the blazer’s front pockets. From the way she handled the weapon, СКАЧАТЬ