The Butler's Daughter

His fingers dug into her shoulders, preventing her from collapsing. “I spoke with the police at the scene. They don’t expect to find any survivors in the house.”

“Oh, my God.” Juliana pressed a fist to her mouth, hot tears stinging her eyes. This was not happening. It was too much. She’d grown up on the Collingwood estate. Had spied on Ross Collingwood and his friends living their golden lives in a world she could never be part of. Ross ran a billion-dollar corporation and amassed companies in takeover bids as if capturing checkers on a checkerboard. And he remembered to take her and her father out to lunch on their birthdays and wrote them silly poems for birthday cards.

A sob exploded in her chest like a fireball. He could not be dead. Nor could Lexi. They were madly, totally in love with each other. This was too horrible, too ugly to contemplate.

The Guardian pulled her against his chest, his hands stroking her back. Heat seeped into her cold body in slow widening circles.

“I’m sorry.”

Juliana bit back a sob and lifted her head to look up into his rock-hard features, her heart registering the compassion she saw in his eyes. She’d heard stories of The Guardian. Whispered tales that made him sound mysterious and invincible, like a cross between a comic-book superhero and James Bond. But in that fraction of a second before he hid the emotion banked in his eyes she saw a man who truly cared about the people he tried to protect. “Was it a bomb or an accident?”

“It’s too soon to tell. The fire department will investigate, but they say the explosion is suspicious. It appears to have originated in an upstairs bedroom. Were Ross and Lexi the only ones in the house? The police would like to know.”

Juliana nodded, her mind still trying to grapple with the horror of what he’d just told her and the frantic desire to rush to her father’s side, ensure he was okay even though he’d told her to keep Cort safely away. “There were only the three of them, my father and the Collingwoods,” she said shakily. “The Collingwoods were being extra careful, following the precautions you gave them. They left the members of their traveling staff at home—even the chef and the chauffeur. No one knew they’d rented the house in the Adirondacks. My father secured the booking under his own name.” Juliana paused, suddenly aware that she was still standing there with The Guardian’s arms around her.

Self-consciously, she pulled out of his embrace and wiped her face with her palms. She needed to be strong. Ross and Lexi and her father were counting on her. She had promises to keep. “What about the baby?” she asked, her legs trembling as she walked around the corner of the bed to check on Cort. He was still sleeping peacefully, his little arms suspended in midair as if ready to receive a hug. “What happens to Cort?”

The Guardian followed her movements, his gaze narrowing on the sleeping infant. He didn’t ask why the baby was lying on the floor rather than in the crib. “He’ll be raised by his godfather.”

Juliana stepped defensively between him and the infant, alarm snapping her to attention. His godfather? That was news to her. Had Lexi and Ross had the baby christened shortly after his birth? Perhaps that was information they’d only shared with her father. “Who would that be?” she demanded, feeling as if more of her world was about to change.

“Me. I’m Hunter Sinclair.”

The 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, Hunter had no doubt she was proficient in its use. Hooking a caramel leather purse over her shoulder, she knelt down to scoop up the baby.

“I’ll send one of my men to pick up your car. You won’t need it where we’re going.”

“We’ll need Cort’s car seat.”

“We’ll go without it. Someone could have tampered with your car since you left it in the parking lot.”

She glanced over at him, alarm sparking in her eyes as she gently tucked a blanket around the sleeping infant. The baby cried out in his sleep and Juliana spoke softly to him, pressing a kiss onto the crown of his head.

The intimate gesture caused anger to rise inside Hunter—anger and unbearable guilt that Ross and Lexi would never kiss their son—or the daughter who’d been snatched from their lives over two years ago. All the security precautions in the world could minimize the chances, but not always prevent a determined lunatic bent on destruction.

In the hospital, all it had taken was for one night-duty nurse to be overpowered by a stun gun and little Riana Collingwood was gone. Though Hunter had vowed to do everything within his means to find the infant, chase every lead that came in over the 1-800 tips line, the grim odds were that they might never find her. Or learn the true reason for her abduction.

The timing of the explosion tonight in a rented house where the Collingwoods had planned to be reunited with their son was suspicious—especially following their daughter Riana’s kidnapping. And it cast Riana’s abduction and the aborted ransom demand into a whole new light.

Ross Collingwood had some powerful enemies. Men whose companies he’d ruthlessly overtaken, who had the financial means to discover his secrets and his vulnerabilities. And who might be determined to destroy his entire family and the Collingwood empire. The aborted ransom demand could have been part of the kidnapper’s goal to emotionally cripple Ross by leaving him agonizing over his daughter’s fate.

Hunter knew far too keenly, far too deeply that all the money in the world couldn’t protect a man’s heart. Love made a man vulnerable to his enemies.

While Hunter couldn’t be sure at this point, he had to assume the security measures set in place to shield Cort’s identity had been breached. He needed to take countermeasures to protect the baby from another possible attack. He owed it to his friend.

Carrying the diaper bag and Juliana’s carry-on bag he moved to the door, motioning for Juliana to wait while he opened the door and checked the exterior corridor to ensure the coast was clear.

“Where are we going?” Juliana demanded sotto voce as they headed out in the brisk night air, their footsteps muted on the concrete walkway.

“New York City,” he said in her ear, cupping her elbow. The scent of her hair reminded him of springtime and apple blossoms. He shook the distracting thought away and focused on checking their surroundings. He didn’t know how much time they had before details of the explosion hit the news.

“Is that where you live?”

“No, but I have a residence there where I can set up a command post to deal with the police and the lawyers and whatever else needs to be done. There will be some reaction in the stock market to his death and the future of the company.” Hunter grimaced inwardly as he scanned the parking lot. Ross Collingwood had been his friend, but he didn’t have time for grief. He was The Guardian. He had to do his job—protect Ross’s son.

The vehicles were dark and silent. Not a sign of movement. They descended the stairs. “The chopper’s in the parking lot of a mall just down the street.”

The street was deserted. The streetlights cast pools of light on the sidewalk.

Juliana adjusted the blanket around Cort. “Where do you call home, then?”

“A private island in the St. Lawrence Seaway. I hope you don’t like crowds.”

Her arms tightened around the baby. “I can put up with anything to keep Cort safe.”

Ahead, the chopper crouched like a giant glass grass-hopper in an asphalt field. “I’m relieved you feel that way, because it’s going to take some ingenuity to keep Cort’s identity secret from the world. I don’t think it was a coincidence that the explosion occurred tonight when Ross and Lexi would have been reunited with their child. And I can’t help wondering if Riana’s kidnapping and the explosion tonight are related—that someone wanted to destroy Ross Collingwood and his empire by killing him and his family. We need a strategy to protect Cort. If the media learns of his existence, there’ll be a circus trying to find him.”

Juliana halted in her tracks and a suspicious gleam entered her eyes. “I’ve done a good job protecting Cort on my own. What did you have in mind?”

Hunter hesitated, momentarily blindsided by the brilliant simplicity of the plan that formed in his thoughts. Sweat dotted his brow. Could it work? Juliana was pretty enough. It wouldn’t be much of a stretch to feign an attraction to her. At all.

“Hide him in plain sight,” he said slowly as if his words were weighed down with lead by the decision he was making. “I live on an island. People in the surrounding community would be curious if I suddenly brought home an infant and a nanny. Bringing home a wife and a son would rouse less suspicion. Marginally less,” he added wryly. “But less.”

Her mouth dropped open. “A wife and a son? Just what are you suggesting?”

Every muscle in his body tightened with foreboding. He’d told himself a thousand times he’d never subject himself to the state of matrimony. Sinclairs were cursed in that regard, experiencing more bitterness than bliss.

But he wasn’t offering Juliana his heart, his bed or his money, he told himself rationally. There’d be a prenup. “I’m suggesting that we get married.”

Chapter Two

Juliana stared at Hunter in mute shock. Then she got angry and said the first thing that came to mind, the wrong thing, “You are absolutely insane.”

She regretted it instantly as his eyes narrowed on her like rapier blades and his mouth flattened into a deadly line. “Given my family history, I’d say that’s a foregone conclusion. What’s the matter, Cinderella, you never wanted to marry a prince?”

“That remark was completely inappropriate, Mr. Sinclair, but excusable considering my own poor choice of words,” Juliana retorted sharply, feeling heat blister her cheeks. She was half out of her mind with worry about her father’s condition and this man expected her to take his marriage of convenience proposal seriously. Still, caution honed from years of domestic service whispered a gentle warning in her ears. Whether she liked it or not, Ross had appointed Hunter Sinclair as Cort’s guardian. If memory and gossip served her correctly, the Sinclair family owned luxury hotels. Lots of them. She was at this man’s mercy and his whims if she wished to remain in Cort’s life and uphold her promise to her father.

She took a deep breath. “I assure you, I intended no disrespect toward you or your family. You simply caught me off guard. Are you sure someone will call about my father?”

“Yes. I’ve dispatched two operatives to ensure he receives the best medical care and personal protection. Someone will call as soon as there’s news.”

“Thank you.”

One of Hunter’s dark eyebrows rose. “You haven’t answered my other question. Had you planned on marrying a prince?”

He was baiting her. Intentionally. Maybe even testing her. Juliana had no intention of sharing her private dreams with this intimidating man. Nor did she want to offend him. She held Cort’s warm bundled body against her heart, knowing her father would urge her to do whatever duty necessitated.

After all, her father hadn’t thought twice about asking her to give up her career and branding her an unwed mother to protect Ross and Lexi’s son. She doubted her father would object to her skyrocketing up the social ladder by marrying a multimillionaire.

But as far as Juliana was concerned, it was a leap in the wrong direction.

Her insides trembled at the prospect of playing the mistress of Hunter Sinclair’s home—and the mistress of his bed, where, in the shadowed folds of the night, he’d surely look just as intimidating as he did towering over her now.

Lexi had been the daughter of a middle-class family. She’d boldly and elegantly leaped into Ross’s elite world with her grace and charm, blissfully ignorant of the rules. Juliana, by contrast, had been schooled in the rules of behavior long before she entered kindergarten. The butler’s daughter did not play with the children of the Collingwoods’ guests. She did not speak until spoken to. And she did not once ever let herself think that any of Ross’s fancy friends would look at her as anything more than a diversion.

She rather doubted Hunter even considered her a diversion. From his perspective he was negotiating a business merger with all the rules to be spelled out on paper in legalese. “My personal desires are none of your business, Mr. Sinclair,” she said coolly. “But allow me to allay your fears. I’m not the least bit interested in the number of zeroes in your trust fund. All I care about is this darling little boy’s safety. If marrying you will achieve that, then so be it. But I want a prenup with your agreement that I shall be appointed Cort’s guardian in your will. And should the marriage end in divorce, I want joint custody.”

“That’s all? No zeroes from my trust fund?”

She held his mocking gaze for a long moment, convinced that behind his tight mask and the sarcasm was a man who truly cared about protecting Cort. No doubt he was as reluctant as she to enter into this absurd agreement. “Not a one. You may keep them all to yourself. I have employable skills—it’s so hard to find good domestic help these days. Do we have a deal?”

Those azure eyes transformed, thawing with sudden warmth. “Deal. The helicopter is waiting. The performance begins now. We can’t have anyone suspecting we aren’t in love—especially the hired help. You know how they gossip below stairs.”

Before she could stop him or think to protest, he brushed a kiss along her cheek, then nuzzled her jaw as if she were a delectable offering. Juliana stood paralyzed inhaling the scent of him, mesmerized by the seductive play of his lips over her skin and the moist heat of his breath. He was so big, so hard, so utterly dangerous her pulse fluttered on tiny wings. What on earth had she gotten herself into?

Shyly, tentatively, she let her lips touch the corner of his mouth. Felt the firmness of those lips and the prickle of stubble on his cheek.

Oh, my. Her stomach did a free fall to her toes as his lips settled, coaxing and demanding, over hers. Juliana clutched Cort to her, aware of his precious slumbering body between them as Hunter skillfully swept his tongue into her mouth and kissed her as she imagined all rich boys kissed. Thoroughly. Powerfully. As if the world and her body were his for the taking.

And they were. Her bones threatened to disintegrate beneath the onslaught of sensation.

It was only when she felt the cold imprint of the night air on her face did she realize Hunter had pulled back and was gazing down at her beneath half-lowered lids. The intensity gleaming in his eyes sent a tremor rippling through her. “We’ll tell everyone I met you in Europe. That you only told me recently I’d fathered your baby,” he said.

Juliana told herself that if he kept looking at her as he was looking at her now, as if he’d been interrupted during a favorite meal, no one could possibly doubt that he’d fathered Cort. This crazy scheme might work. “Where in Europe?” she said breathlessly. “People will ask.”

“Germany. The Black Forest. They’ll believe that. We camped at adjoining campsites. Everyone knows I never stay in hotels, especially my own hotels.”

“I know absolutely nothing about camping.”

“Which is why I came to your rescue, Cinderella, out of fear that you’d light your clothes on fire.”

She ground her teeth behind clamped lips, subduing the urge to insist he stop calling her Cinderella. She forced her lips into a smile. “How complimentary.”

“I’m glad you approve.” He gripped her elbow again and hurried her across the parking lot toward the chopper. Juliana felt as if she were leaving one world and entering another.

TO HIS CREDIT, THE MAN she’d just agreed to marry was solicitous to a fault during the chopper ride to New York City. For the limousine ride to the penthouse apartment overlooking Central Park, Hunter thoughtfully closed the privacy window between them and the driver. Juliana tried not to let her grief over the Collingwoods’ deaths or her fears over her father’s condition show in her face. What was happening with her father? Why didn’t the doctor call?

The apartment was as enigmatic and masculine as Hunter himself. An oasis of muted earth colors on the walls, comfortable leather furnishings, and artwork that probed to the soul.

Juliana restrained herself from offering an apologetic smile to the middle-aged butler and housekeeper who’d obviously been roused from their beds and awaited them in the foyer, with appropriate smiles of welcome.