Roman-2(Lane Brothers, Book 5)(48)

Her little face, that cute feminine version of Luc’s, tells me she would rather stay exactly where she is, but at a nod from him she crawls out from beneath her blanket and takes my hand, looking up at me uncertainly.

“Luc,” I whisper, pausing at the door to see my usually cool-headed husband still frozen in shock.

“I need to make a few calls, love.”

His voice is raspy, and I notice he hasn’t met my eyes once, keeping his head down and his face hidden from me.

“We still have guests, Luc.”

“Ah, yes, I’ll…I’ll take care of them,” he mutters. “Ash.”

I pause at the door, keeping my back turned, and smile down at Madeline, squeezing her hand reassuringly.

“Later. We’ll talk later,” I say, pulling her out and closing the door with a soft snick.

I need time, or a large shot of something strong, before I can safely beard that lion’s den and get the answers my stunned brain hasn’t yet been capable of asking.

I’m still stuck on that smile and the completely serious expression I’d seen on her face, the very same one that’s been staring at me for all these months.

The one that’s been driving me crazy because I can’t tell what he’s thinking, no matter how hard I look. This kid is his carbon copy…

“How old are you, honey?” I ask after seating her at the counter and getting to work on a ham and cheese sandwich and a cup of milky tea.

“Six and a half, Mum.”

“Oh, call me Ash, I’m not…well, anyway, how did you get here, honey? It’s awfully dark and cold out. You must have been pretty creeped out if you had to come through the trees in the dark.”

I know I would have been terrified and screaming hysterical. I’ve been there. But the little cutie just smiles around a huge bite of sandwich and shakes her head.

“I’m not afraid of the dark M—Ash. I prefer it.”

I nod and keep my mouth shut as she attacks the sandwich like a starving animal, her little throat bulging when she swallows half-chewed bread and glugs it all down with the luke warm tea I made.

The kid is literally starving. She’s eating so fast, and I feel the first stirrings of unholy anger unfurling in me, replacing the shock with the need to hurt whoever had let her go without food and proper clothing.

“Thank you, Ash.”

I just smile and push another sandwich her way, slowing her down when she tries to lay into it with the same veracity as before.

“You’re most welcome, honey. Um, can you tell me how you got here? Who brought you? And…”

“Aunt Carrie. She said my daddy would take care of me now that mummy’s gone.”

“Uh, gone?”

Please don’t tell me your mom’s dead, kid, please just do not say it. It’s downright pathetic for me to think, but I’m not sure what’ll happen if this kid’s mother is out of the picture.

That would mean one thing and one thing only. I’ll be mother to two kids and pregnant and…it’s damn near killing me to think of her age, and doing the math on that is making my stomach lurch in a way that hurts. If she’s six and a half, that means—

“They’ve gone. I told them you were unwell.”

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I look up at him and take in the closed down expression he’s managed to wrestle back into place. He’s not as cool as he’d like to pretend, though, because his knuckles are white where they’re wrapped around the chair he’s standing behind, almost as if he’s using it to keep himself up.

Goddammit, I want to go over there and soothe whatever it is he’s feeling, an emotion I do not welcome right now, not with all these unanswered questions and the sinking feeling that’s taken up residence in my chest.

“Um, are you done, honey? I think we should get you bathed and into bed. You look beat.”

The kid nods once and gets up to put her dishes in the sink before taking my hand back in hers and letting me lead her past Luc and up the stairs.

I take twenty minutes to bathe her, wash the leaves and dirt from her silky hair, and dress her in some of Ben’s smaller clothes. She’s out as soon as her head hits the pillow, with a trust possessed only by the young and envied by most adults the world over.

I sure wish I felt that trusting or calm, I think, leaving the door open a crack and making my way downstairs on wooden legs. When I get to the kitchen Luc’s hunched at the table, staring sightlessly down into a tumbler of amber whiskey, his shoulders tense and signaling the turmoil his face won’t show.

“Tell me you didn’t know.”





Chapter Twenty Seven




Luc