Hart's Baby

He shook his head.

Even though she’d moved back a couple of steps, she still stood near enough for him to catch the scent of wildflowers interwoven with determination.

“I was hoping that you would already have heard, that this wouldn’t be so difficult,” she said.

Zach frowned. “Go on.”

She dropped one arm, curving her hand around the top of the child seat. A protective mother. His gaze flickered to the bundle beneath a blue blanket. Instantly his throat dried.

He knew with sudden clarity that Cassandra Morrison wasn’t here as a representative of any charity.

“Then this must come as a terrible surprise to you...” Her voice trailed off into a clammy, uncomfortable silence.

Surprise was a hand women dealt well, and the remaining cards in the deck were a dance of deception. It had been his unpleasant experience that a lot of women pulled their aces straight from the bottom of the pack.

Zach did nothing to relieve the tension. Instead, he reached behind him and drummed his fingers on the mantel, allowing the pressure to stretch and grow, becoming elastic. He wondered, would it snap?

“I’m sorry to have to be the one to break this to you, but...” She touched the tip of her tongue to her lower lip, a second betrayal of that tension she struggled to suppress.

The one-two combination of her eyes and her voice nearly did him in. A haunting lilt rippled through her words, reminding him of the whisper of the wind, the seduction of a moonlit night.

Yet this woman, a stranger, stood in his family’s living room, hesitation in her tone and defiance in the tilt of her chin. The wind wasn’t whispering and the sun had obliterated the moon along with the romance of night. He wasn’t going to like what she had to say.

He stopped drumming his fingers, forcing the silence to roar.

“My sister...” She took a deep breath. “My sister was involved with a Hart.”

“Excuse me?” The words fell with the iciness of a Wyoming winter. How dare she stand in his home...the home he’d fought for, protected...and fling accusations?

She squared her shoulders as if for battle, her naked lips pressed together.

Hands clenched at his sides, he clipped, “Are you accusing me of fathering this child?”

“Jeanie apparently slept with—”

“Good day, Ms. Morrison. If you have anything further to say, call my attorney.”

“Wait!”

His family had fallen victim to a woman’s deceit twice. He’d be damned if it would happen a third time. Pivoting, he moved past her and reached for the door handle.

“Please, wait. Hear me out.”

He stopped. Her quiet desperation got to him. It shouldn’t, and just as surely, it did.

“Jeanie was dating your brother.”

“My brother?”

“Chad. He is your brother, isn’t he?”

Zach turned and nodded curtly. Of the three brothers, Chad was the youngest, the wildest, the most reckless.

An unnatural pause pulsed in the air.

Cassandra tucked her hair behind her ear, then dropped her hand in front of her. Not flinching as she looked him in the eye, she stated, “Jeanie had Chad’s baby.”

Zach’s immediate and earthy response earned him a wince.

“Are you trying to tell me that child is my nephew?” he demanded, struggling to rein in his temper.

Her expression fell at his reaction, but Zach was beyond caring.

“Our nephew, yes,” she managed to say.

“You’re insinuating my brother fathered a baby and turned his back, walking away?”

“It’s not an insinuation—” she struggled for a breath “—it’s a fact.”

“A fact. I see. And the child’s mother, your sister, where is she, why isn’t she here?”

Cassandra’s eyebrows had drawn together, and the depths of her eyes had turned stormy with anguish, a layer of tears teasing at her eyelashes. He refused to be swayed by the intensity of her emotion; too much was at stake.

When she didn’t respond, he continued, “Why did she send you? Are you perhaps the better liar of the two?” His angry words hummed in the air.

Cassandra sucked in a shallow breath and stared at him intently. “A liar?” she asked, her voice cracking on the second word.

Fortifying himself with the heat of her accusation, Zach answered her. “Yes, Ms. Morrison. I’m calling you a liar.”

Hurt radiated from her eyes, nearly turning his internal winter into spring.

Slowly she shook her head. “I am not a liar.”

“Then perhaps you misunderstood the situation.”

“How could I have misunderstood?”

Seeing the genuine layer of anguish his words had caused, he formed his hands into fists. Leashing his own frustration, he searched for a position somewhere between calm and controlled. “Then maybe your sister lied to you.”

“How dare you?” Cassandra’s lips thinned as he watched the hurt vanish. Her spine stiffened and she became a warrior, a defender. “My sister wasn’t—”

“If your sister is a saint, then you’re implying my brother has no moral values?”

“I don’t know what to think,” she said quietly.

“How much?” he asked, growing weary of her game. He’d do anything it took to protect his family from Cassandra’s false allegations, even if it cost half his bank account.

Eyes wide, she echoed, “How much?”