Claiming His Secret Heir Page 10

  “You think Lucas will be okay? It’s not too cold for him?” Reaching into the carriage, Damon brushed a knuckle along the baby’s cheek.

  “Not at all. I’m glad he’s getting some fresh air after all the travel yesterday.” She noticed that only one security guard trailed them now that they’d reunited with their son. The other guy must have returned to the town house until his next shift.

  “The outfit is very cool.” Damon gave a light tug on one dark mouse ear. “You think he’s a bear?”

  “A bear?” She tilted her head sideways. “I thought it was a mouse papoose.”

  “McNeills are not mice,” he announced definitively.

  “Why am I not surprised?” She spotted a clearing in a thicket of trees off the path where the snow wasn’t quite as deep. “How about over there?”

  “Good eyes.” Damon steered the sleigh in that direction. “Do you want to switch and have me push the carriage?”

  “I’ve got it.” The mild strain in her arms felt pleasant after months of being inactive. “I’m really looking forward to getting back in shape after the pregnancy.”

  “You look beautiful.” He rested his hand lightly on the middle of her back before dropping a kiss on her hair.

  “Thank you.” His words warmed her as much as the touch. “But it will be nice to build up more endurance again. I guess it’s a good thing babies aren’t mobile for the first months.”

  “I’m here to help you,” he reminded her as they reached the clearing. He lifted the picnic hamper and slid out a folded blanket. “I hope you remember you’re not in this alone anymore.”

  He shook out the waterproof blanket on the snow—plastic on one side, wool plaid on the other. She watched him line up the sled at one end of the blanket before he knelt in the snow to open the picnic hamper. All the while, Caroline rocked the carriage gently, tilting it back and forth. Thankfully, their bodyguard sat outside the trees, keeping an eye on the hill below to make sure no one intruded on their space. She didn’t feel “watched,” per se, although she felt certain the guy kept an eye on them somehow. The team Damon hired seemed very skilled at maintaining a discreet presence.

  “I know that I’m not alone any longer, and I’m glad for that.” She debated lifting Lucas out of the baby carrier, but then changed her mind, putting the brakes on the contraption and facing the carrier toward the blanket so they could keep an eye on him.

  “Are you ready for the winter picnic to end all picnics?” Damon asked, waiting to open the picnic basket until he had her attention.

  He shoved his gloves into the pockets of his vest. His dark hair had a few fresh snowflakes coating the top where he must have brushed against one of the evergreen boughs.

  “Do you know what’s in there?” She peeled off her own gloves, ready to eat. “I can’t imagine what a winter picnic entails, so my expectations are fairly low.”

  “I packed this myself. And believe me, my expectations run permanently high.” He tipped open the lid with a flourish. “I present to you, the Post-Sledding Woodland Feast.”

  Caroline felt her eyes go wide. Crammed inside the huge basket were two brightly colored thermoses and insulated mugs, a red-and-white-checkered tablecloth, a wooden cheeseboard with fresh fruits and cloth-covered cheeses, a tray of shrimp on ice, a stack of Sternos and a lighter, a bag of huge, homemade-looking marshmallows, a tin of graham crackers, chocolate-covered strawberries...

  “And champagne!” Her gaze finally reached a bottle of a highly recognizable brand of bubbly inside a champagne bucket. “Is that even legal?” She glanced around, half expecting a park ranger to issue a citation.

  “Alcohol in the park is regulated, but not prohibited, so no one will bother us unless we start causing trouble.” Grinning, he gestured for her to have a seat on the blanket. “Get comfortable and I’ll serve us.”

  She did as he asked, her eyes still on the stuffed hamper.

  “You packed this?” It was a feat of engineering, the way everything was stacked and prepped.

  “The technical mind is good for more than designing software, you know.” He pulled out fondue sticks and set them beside the Sterno cans so they could toast their own marshmallows. “And under the champagne is a bottle of whiskey if you’d rather doctor up the hot chocolate.” He produced a smaller basket with airline-sized bottles of Jameson and Baileys, plus a variety of add-in flavors from vanilla and almond to butterscotch.

  “You have outdone yourself.” She glanced up into the carriage to check on Lucas. Surrounded by trees on three sides, their picnic spot felt safe and surprisingly private considering the view of the mayhem near Cedar Hill and the row of emerging snowmen lining the biggest walking trail less than fifty yards away.

  “I will admit, it’s been hell keeping a lid on the surprise all day.” He found two small hurricane lanterns and placed candles inside them even though the sun still shone brightly outside. Then, he uncapped one of the containers of cocoa and poured her a mugful. “Here. You can add what you like while I work on the seating.”

  He scrambled around to the back of the blanket where he used one arm to scoop a pile of snow under the edge of the wool plaid. It took her a moment to understand why he wanted a big lump of snow under the spot where she was sitting. But then he covered it up again, packing the pile into a U-shaped curve to create a support for her back.

  “Genius,” she announced, settling into the snow seat with her mug of hot chocolate, the picnic spread out at her feet. “It really is the picnic to end all picnics.”

  “I’ll drink to that.” Damon poured his own hot chocolate and settled on the blanket beside her. “Here’s to our first real day as a family.”

  She met his blue gaze, his eyes all the more crystalline in the bright sun. He’d taken considerable time and trouble to make the day perfect for her, and Lucas, too. While she’d been sleeping late to catch up on rest, he’d been ordering a special sled and packing the perfect picnic.

  “To family,” she echoed, softly clanking her pewter cup to his.

  Tipping the drink to her lips, she savored the complex swirl of flavors. She hadn’t added much alcohol, just enough to give a pleasant jolt of warmth on the way down. The almond and vanilla notes were especially good, and the melting homemade marshmallow she’d set on top was a gooey bonus.

  She was about to compliment the first beverage course, but when she turned to him again, she felt a flash of heat from the simmering look he gave her. His mug remained untouched, his attention fixed on her mouth.

  He was very still.

  “What?” Self-conscious, she set her cup aside in the snow. “I have marshmallow all over my face, don’t I?”

  Her hand went to her nose, but Damon caught it. He’d set his own drink aside, too, freeing his hands.

  “Let me.” He canted closer, his focus shifting to her eyes.

  The heat ratcheted up so much it was a wonder they weren’t melting snow.

  She could feel her heartbeat quicken, the answering spark she’d always experienced with this man. Time and distance hadn’t broken it. Even forgetting him completely for weeks on end hadn’t erased the response she had to him.

  By the time his mouth brushed hers, she had somehow crept closer to him, her hands slipping under the vest he wore to rest on the flannel shirt over his chest. His heart sped quicker, its rhythm synchronized with hers in a dance she remembered all too well.

  He tasted like whiskey, a straight shot that imparted a stronger burn than any drink. She let the feel of his kiss fill her whole body, the nerve endings coming to life from the roots of her hair to the most intimate heart of her being. His tongue coaxed and toyed with hers, slowly at first. Then harder. More demanding.

  Her pulse pounded faster. She breathed in the sandalwood of his aftershave and fresh pine all around them, her senses all attuned to the pleasure to come.

&n
bsp; Until Damon slowed the kiss again.

  Stopped.

  Pulled back just a fraction of an inch.

  Caroline’s fingers clutched at his shirt, holding him. Wanting him.

  It took a long moment for her to return to the moment and the picnic. The feast he’d carefully planned for her. The bodyguard protecting them, who’d no doubt gotten an eyeful. Dragging in gulps of cold air, she hoped the winter chill would put out some of the fire inside. She forced her fingers to unclench from where she gripped his shirt. Thank goodness they were in a public park with a baby in the carriage beside them or she might have toppled him onto his back and lost herself in the feel of him.

  “You had a little bit of marshmallow,” he explained belatedly, reaching up to graze her upper lip with his thumb. “Right here.”

  Even now, his touch sparked a powerful need.

  “Then I’ll have to be careful with my next taste.” She picked up her mug for another drink, grateful for something else to focus on besides Damon’s touch. The way he looked at her.

  “No need,” he assured her, reaching toward the sled full of food to drag the cheese board closer. “The pleasure was all mine.”

  His wolfish grin was very male. And even as he goaded her, she knew her defenses would never hold if he kissed her again.

  Nine

  After sledding and a picnic, Damon thought Caroline seemed more relaxed. They’d made a plan for dinner in front of the fire in her suite, a location he didn’t even have to lobby for since she wanted to stay close to Lucas and his room was on the same floor as hers. Her bedroom had a sitting room with a table, and she’d suggested it would be more relaxing to have a simple meal up there as opposed to the formal dining space.

  That she wanted to unwind around him seemed like a personal victory.

  He pushed the baby’s carriage across Fifth Avenue while the bodyguard who accompanied them pulled the sled with the picnic hamper and leftovers. Damon hadn’t wanted Caroline to overexert herself, and it had been a busy day already.

  “So I’m going to feed Lucas while you relax for a little while.” He reminded her of the plan as they approached the huge town house. “Just text me when you’re ready for dinner and I’ll have it brought up.”

  “Thank you.” She hugged her arms around herself. The temperature was dropping now that the sun had dipped low on the horizon. “It was fun getting outdoors today. It made me realize how long I’ve been cooped up inside, between caring for Lucas and being sick.”

  Damon didn’t remind her that she’d been a prisoner in her father’s home as much as she had been in Mexico. He hoped with time she would comprehend the depth of her father’s betrayal. Did she understand that Damon would never allow Lucas to be near Stephan Degraff again?

  “Speaking of which, I confirmed an appointment with a highly respected local therapist for you tomorrow.” He unlocked the door to the town house, unwilling to bother the staff inside. Besides, they had enough witnesses to private conversations with the security lurking behind them. “Maybe she’ll have new ideas for helping you recover your memories and your health.”

  If Caroline recovered her full memory, it would go a long way in convincing her to stay away from her father. Assuming, of course, she was genuinely committed to starting this marriage over. He had at least ruled out his concern that she might be conspiring against him with her father. Damon believed she was invested in discovering the truth.

  “Thank you.” She stepped inside while he held the door for her. “I’d like that.”

  He barely had time to savor that small triumph when the bodyguard who’d been stationed at the house stalked into the foyer, a paper in hand.

  This one was Wade, he recalled. The guy had an impressive scar on the side of his neck and a don’t-mess-with-me demeanor that Damon appreciated in a protector.

  “Is everything all right?” Damon’s eyes darted to Lucas and Caroline, and he reassured himself they were still right there with him. He reached into the baby carriage to lift his son from the seat so he could cradle him in his arms.

  Behind him, Caroline slid off her boots and left them on a mat to one side of the entry. She padded closer in stocking feet as she unzipped her bright parka.

  “There’s been no activity to report here,” Wade assured him. “But it’s a different story back at the Los Altos Hills house.” He passed Damon the paper while Caroline stood by him to peer over his shoulder. “The security cameras caught this guy on film shortly before he asked one of the groundskeepers if you were in residence. He took off without giving his name.”

  “It’s the fisherman who rescued me.” Caroline’s arm brushed against his as she tilted the photo toward her for a better view. “I’m sure of it.”

  It damn well couldn’t be a coincidence.

  “This guy?” Damon gave the black-and-white printout to her so she could look more closely. “This is the same man who pulled you out of the water off the coast in Mexico?”

  “Yes.” She nodded. “But I don’t understand why, that is, how he would find me. Unless—” She went very still. “Do you think he found out something about who kidnapped me? Or where I was being held?”

  The bodyguard appeared ready to offer more information, but Damon held up a hand to delay his input, wanting to hear what conclusions Caroline reached on her own. If she was close to a breakthrough with her memories, he didn’t want to stifle it.

  When Caroline’s dark eyes met his, he tried to help her think through the possibility she’d suggested.

  “It seems unlikely a fisherman living south of the border would make a trip to the US to find you.” He articulated what she had to be thinking already. “Furthermore, you didn’t remember me at the time, let alone your married name. So he wouldn’t know to look for you at the Los Altos Hills house.”

  Her face paled. She shook her head.

  “You think he works for my father.” She thrust the photo back at Damon and spun away, pressing the heels of her hands against her closed eyes. “That he worked for my father even then. Which would mean he didn’t save me at all. He just acted out another part of some elaborate drama my father created to keep us apart?” Straightening, she relaxed her arms and opened her eyes. “Why would he ever do that? He’s not a madman, Damon. He’s just—”

  She couldn’t quite fill in that blank.

  Damon resisted the urge to do so himself, since he had a wealth of names to label the bastard, but none of them would line up with whatever fairy tale Caroline concocted in her mind to account for her father’s behavior. One day, she would be able to see her father’s actions for what they were—calculated, self-serving and, yes, unbalanced.

  It was bad enough Stephan had thwarted an investigation of Caroline’s disappearance. If it turned out that he had masterminded her kidnapping? He was going to prison, no question.

  “What else were you able to find out about him?” Damon asked, turning back toward Wade.

  As much as Damon wanted to comfort his wife, her safety came first. He lifted Lucas higher against his chest, kissing the baby’s downy head while the little boy stretched sleepily.

  “His name is Theo Bastien.” The bodyguard pulled out a phone and seemed to read from his notes. “He’s a French-Canadian transplant who moved to Vancouver two years ago, when his employment history shows he started as a chauffeur and groundskeeper for Stephan Degraff, who keeps a rental home there and visits frequently.”

  At Caroline’s muffled cry, Damon interrupted the report. “Whatever you need to make sure the properties are both protected, it’s yours. For now, I’d like a copy of the information to go to Officer Downey at the Los Altos Hills police department.”

  “We’ve already called it in,” Wade assured him. “The police still haven’t been able to locate Degraff to interview him.”

  “Thank you.” Damon dismissed him with
a nod and waved over the head housekeeper waiting on the periphery of the huge foyer. The McNeill mansion had no lack of personal servants. “Would you find Marcie and let her know Lucas is ready for a bottle? I’m going upstairs with my wife and we’ll take dinner in her suite in two hours.”

  “Of course.” The woman nodded, her face a professional mask as she accepted the squirming six-week-old, easily cradling him against her starched gray livery. “Your security team suggested we don’t open the door to anyone but uniformed police officers or McNeill family members.” She lifted a dark eyebrow, seeking confirmation.

  “Correct.” Damon tightened his hold on Caroline, feeling her trembling right through her warm winter clothes. “And please be as vigilant at the service entrance. No delivery people past the gates.”

  “Certainly. I’ll remind Marcie to stay in the nursery where you can monitor the little one.” The woman spared a brief smile for the wriggling baby before turning on one quiet heel and disappearing down the hallway that led to the service elevator, the bodyguard behind her.

  With Lucas cared for and the home well-guarded, Damon could turn his attention to Caroline. His plans for winning her back tonight would have to be deferred after the devastating revelations she was still trying to process. He steered her toward the elevator, hugging her close to his side.

  * * *

  A few minutes later, Caroline swayed on her feet inside the suite’s lavish dressing room, her brain pinging with too many worries, thoughts and fears to name them all.

  Could her father really have arranged to have her kidnapped? Her head throbbed with as much pain as her heart to think about that while she searched for a clean tee and pajama pants—comfort clothes. It seemed easier to believe she’d walked out on her husband than that her father would be so cruelly calculating.

  People ended relationships all the time, after all. And she had been arguing with Damon when she was in London before she flew back to the Los Altos Hills house. What if the holes in her memory had steered her all wrong? What if she hadn’t been kidnapped? Maybe she’d asked for her father’s help in walking away from the marriage...