Kingsley Baby Trilogy: The Hero's Son\The Brother's Wife\The Long-Lost Heir (49 page)

When she turned around, she saw that David had come into the room. Something stilled inside Bradlee. She caught her breath at the sight of him. He was very handsome—not in a smooth and polished way as Andrew had been—but tough and capable and unmistakably masculine. It was hard to remember that this man had once been a sensitive, vulnerable three-
year-
old whom Bradlee, in her own childish way, had tried to protect.

She watched him walk across the room to greet Edward and Pamela, who in turn introduced him to Bradlee’s father and to Crystal. She saw his gaze flash to the low neckline of Crystal’s dress, and a wave of resentment swept over Bradlee. Honestly, did every man in the room have to ogle the woman?

At that moment, David looked up and caught her eye, and Bradlee suddenly became very aware of the way
she
looked—her loose, windblown hair, the simplicity of her white dress, the fact that she wasn’t quite as thin as Pamela or as curvy as Crystal. She was, in fact, quite ordinary and she’d never been more aware of it than at that moment.

Someone must have told David that the Kingsleys always dressed for dinner because he was wearing an elegant gray suit with a white band-
collared shirt underneath. He looked sophisticated and cosmopolitan, very much at home in the Kingsley mansion.

After a few moments, he excused himself from the group and crossed the room to join Bradlee. She tried to calm her racing heart by sipping her wine and looking nonchalant.

“The Porsche should have been a dead give
away,” he said.

Startled, Bradlee glanced up at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“You’re not a photographer. You’re a friend of the Kingsleys,” he said, almost accusingly.

“Yes, but I’m also a photographer, just like I said. And in a way, I
was
waiting for you.”

“I didn’t tell anyone I was coming today. How did you know?”

She shrugged. “A lucky guess?”

One dark brow rose at that. “Why were you waiting for me out there?”

Bradlee hesitated. Now was the time to tell him about the shadow in her nightmares and about her suspicions. About the real reason she’d come back to Memphis. But what if the dream was only that? What if the shadow was her own personal version of the bogeyman? He would think she was an idiot, and at the moment, Bradlee wasn’t so sure he would be wrong.

When she didn’t answer right away, he said, “I think I understand. Iris told me you were the little girl in the nursery the night I was kidnapped. I guess it’s only natural you’d be curious about me.”

A wistful smile touched Bradlee’s lips. “You don’t know how often I’ve thought about you over the years, wondered where you were, if you were all right. I never could believe you were dead.”

The sincerity of her words seemed to touch him. Something that looked almost like gratitude flashed in his eyes before he quickly masked the emotion by lifting his drink to his lips. “Iris mentioned we were close back then. She said they called you my `little guardian angel.’” He gave her a sidelong glance.

“So I’ve been told.” Bradlee couldn’t help smiling. He was at least six inches taller than she, with broad shoulders and a trim, muscular physique. To think that she had once considered herself his protector was almost comical.

“Were you also friends with my brother? Did you know Andrew?”

Bradlee’s amusement faded. She wasn’t at all sure she wanted to be the one to tell him about Andrew. His brother had been charming and charismatic, but he’d also had a dark side. A weak side. Did that darkness run in the family?

“My mother and I moved to California when I was still small. I used to come back to visit my father every so often, and sometimes, if it wasn’t convenient for me to stay with him, he’d arrange for me to stay here. I knew Andrew, but we weren’t especially close. We were two very different people. He liked to live life on the edge, and I was always more of a homebody. A wallflower.”

“You didn’t like him?”

“I didn’t say that. He was very charming. I liked him a lot, but I don’t think I ever really knew him.” She paused, choosing her words carefully. “Sometimes I’ve wondered if the kidnapping made him the way he was. If he was attracted to danger because of his guilt.”

“What did he have to feel guilty about?”

Bradlee lifted her gaze to his. “Because you were the one who was kidnapped and he wasn’t.”

David’s own gaze darkened. “Sounds like you knew him pretty well.”

“Not really. I just know myself.”

“
You
feel guilty about what happened? Why?”

She glanced away. “You said it yourself. I was your guardian angel and I let you down.”

“You were just a kid, a baby. It wasn’t your fault I was kidnapped.”

Bradlee tucked a strand of hair behind one ear. “Intellectually, I know that, of course. But emotionally…” She trailed off. “It never went away, you know. Every year on the anniversary of the kidnapping, some newspaper or magazine would do a feature on you. The publicity tapered off after a while until only the big anniversaries were noted—ten years, fifteen years, twenty-
five years. But it didn’t matter how much time went by, because every time I saw pictures of you it would all come back. All the emotions. All the terror and the grief and the guilt.” She spread her hands helplessly. “Everything.”

“But you were only three years old.” He looked as if he didn’t quite know what to say to her. As if he wasn’t terribly comfortable with what she was telling him.

Bradlee groaned inwardly. She had a way of blurting out her true feelings without thinking through the consequences. What must he think of her—a woman who’d practically admitted she’d carried a torch for him since she was three years old?

He probably thinks you’re pretty pathetic, that’s what.

She refrained from slapping her forehead. Instead, she took a long swallow of wine.

David stared down at her, not sure what to say. He’d never met a woman as open about her feelings as Bradlee. It made him a little uncomfortable. He was used to a lot of game-
playing, especially in Rachel’s social circles, and he’d gotten pretty good at it. He wasn’t sure how to handle this honesty thing.

Could she really have remembered him after all these years? Remained so distraught about his kidnapping? It was hard to believe. Thirty-
two years had gone by, and they’d been so young at the time.
He
couldn’t remember. Why would she?

Maybe this was some kind of game, too, he decided. Maybe Bradlee Fitzgerald had her own agenda, but as David stared down at her, he was hard-
pressed to believe it, maybe because he didn’t
want
to believe it. It felt good to know that someone had cared about him all these years, wondered about him. Remembered him. The Kingsleys were all so aloof, but Bradlee seemed truly glad he’d been found. He saw the sincerity in her eyes every time he looked at her.

Which happened to be a lot, he acknowledged.

Of the three women in the room, she was easily the most appealing, although David suspected she wouldn’t have believed him if he told her so. Her attractiveness wasn’t as overt as Crystal’s or as studied as Pamela Kingsley’s, but instead it had a way of sneaking up on you and catching you by surprise.

She wasn’t tall like Rachel, nor as polished and sophisticated, though their backgrounds were probably very similar. But she was trim and athletic-
looking, and the freckles across her nose gave her a healthy, girl-
next-
door quality that David found surprisingly seductive. She wasn’t his type, and yet he couldn’t stop looking at her.

He saw her frown as she stared across the room at her father and his new wife, and David wondered what she was thinking, what she was feeling.

“Does it bother you?” he found himself asking. “Your father’s new marriage?”

“I should be used to it. This is number seven.” Her smile was ironic, but she didn’t bother to hide the pain in her brown eyes. She shrugged. “Over the years, as his bank account has grown, his wives have gotten progressively younger and more beautiful. Crystal is his reward for managing to keep the Kings
ley account at the firm after that nightmare with Victor Northrup last spring.”

“You mean Northrup’s involvement in Andrew’s murder?” When she glanced up at him in surprise, David shrugged. “I’ve done my homework. Actually, my mother’s brother was mixed up in Northrup’s scheme. That’s how Jake McClain eventually found me.”

Bradlee nodded. “Yes, I know. Victor Northrup was the managing partner at Northrup, Simmons, and Fitzgerald. He was the Kingsleys’ attorney, as well as a close personal friend. When it came out that he’d helped engineer Andrew’s murder so that he could pass off an impostor as Adam Kingsley—as you—everyone thought the firm would go under. The publicity was horrendous, but somehow my father managed to convince Iris to remain with the firm, and she gave him the Kingsley account. Other clients followed her lead and my father is now a hero. And thus, Crystal.”

A man had come into the room, and David nodded toward the doorway. “Who’s that?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Bradlee stiffen when she saw the newcomer. He was fortyish-
looking, tall and reed-
thin, with a receding hairline and features that were distinctively unattractive.

“That’s Jeremy Willows,” she said, barely suppressing a shudder. “Your stepbrother.”

David watched as Jeremy crossed the room to Pamela and the two of them drifted away from the others. Pamela said something to her son, who listened intently, then lifted his head and looked directly across the room at David.

David inclined his head slightly, but Jeremy showed no reaction, made no move to cross the room and welcome David home. Instead, he turned and left the room as quickly as he’d entered it.

“What was that all about?” David muttered, half to himself.

“With Jeremy, it’s anybody’s guess. He’s always been…different.”

“Different?”

Bradlee grimaced. “Very different. He has a huge chip on his shoulder because he’s always been treated like an outsider here—even after all this time. Edward and Pamela were married just a few weeks before your kidnapping, and maybe that’s why Iris could never accept Jeremy. Maybe he was a painful reminder to her of the real grandson she’d lost. I don’t know what her reasons were, but I guess I can understand Jeremy’s resentment. And Pamela’s.”

“Does he still live here, in this house?” David asked.

“Yes, that’s the curious part. You’d have thought he would have moved out a long time ago, but he’s stuck it out here. I’ve often wondered if he’s still been hoping Iris will change her mind about him. Make him her heir.” Bradlee paused. “I don’t expect he was all that thrilled to hear you’d been found.”

When David didn’t respond, Bradlee glanced up at him, her expression worried. “Look, I know this is going to sound strange, but…” Impulsively, she laid her hand on his arm. Was it his imagination, or could he feel the warmth of her skin through his jacket? “Be careful, okay? I don’t want to ruin your homecoming, but…” She trailed off again, letting her hand drop from his arm as she glanced away.

“What are you trying to say?” A sudden uneasiness prickled the back of his neck. Her voice had taken on an ominous tone, and David couldn’t help but remember why he’d come back here; the secrets he hoped to uncover.

“Just be careful,” she said, and with that, she turned and walked away.

* * *

T
HAT NIGHT
B
RADLEE
had the nightmare again. When she awakened, she lay in bed for a long time, staring at the shifting patterns on the ceiling and straining to recall the nuances of the dream—some little detail that would reveal the identity of the shadow standing over her bed. But as always before, the shadow remained elusive, just out of her sight, taunting her and defying her to remember.

Bradlee got up and drew on her robe. Opening the door to the hallway, she peered out. It was well after midnight, and no one was about. Slipping out of her room, she closed the door softly behind her, then paused for a moment to get her bearings. Even though it had been years since she’d been in the part of the house where the nursery was located, Bradlee knew exactly how to get there.

Following a maze of corridors from one wing of the house to the next, she at last found herself outside the door to the nursery. Pausing with her hand on the handle, she willed her heart to stop racing. But it was no use. It beat against her rib cage like a trapped bird, and Bradlee felt herself weakening, her courage deserting her. She didn’t want to go into that room.

Coward,
she chided herself.
You’re not three years old anymore. There’s nothing in there to be afraid of.

After a moment, she grew calmer. She closed her eyes, trying to recall the details of the nursery, but the room itself was only a hazy memory. What would she find inside? Would the room bring that night rushing back to her? Would she remember the identity of the shadow?

Or would she discover that her nightmares had been nothing more than a manifestation of her terror?

There was only one way to find out. She pushed down on the handle, but it refused to yield to the pressure. The room was locked.

Bradlee wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. It was possible that the nursery held memories she didn’t
want
to recall.

She turned to go, but a shadow in the hallway stopped her cold. Bradlee gasped, her hand flying to her heart. For a moment, she thought her nightmare had come to life, but then she recognized who it was and let out a long breath of relief.

“David! You scared me half to death.”

He walked toward her in the dimly lit hallway. “What are you doing here?”

“I might ask you the same thing.” Even as he drew closer to her, his face was still shadowed with an emotion Bradlee couldn’t define. It occurred to her suddenly that even though David Powers and Adam Kingsley were one and the same man, he was still very much a stranger to her. She had no idea what his life had been like. How he’d been raised. What kind of person he’d turned out to be.

She shivered, watching him.

“I came here to see the nursery.” He reached past her to rattle the handle. “Who has the key, do you think?”