later.
The house was quiet, still and lifeless. Any fleeting hope that someone else had found the boy disappeared in the funereal silence.
He saw Rebecca step through the double doorway of the dining room. Her hair was down, all golden silk, tied back at her neck with a blue ribbon in a way that made her look young, that made him remember her that way.
She’d changed into dry clothes since he’d left. She was wearing a high-necked long-sleeved blouse that was pale blue, with enough starch to effectively hide the gentle swell of her breasts, and at least a hundred tiny buttons that would take a man an hour to get undone. Her skirt was straight and black, and it drew flat across her belly, provocatively outlining her hips in a way that Luke couldn’t help appreciating.
She was head-turning beautiful, even in this tragic time.
She didn’t speak, just stared at him with those haunting blue eyes of hers. The ones he’d seen every night in his dreams—only then they’d been filled with excitement and passion. Now they were filled with so much sadness he had to look away from the intensity of it.
He tried to say something, something encouraging, something promising. God, he wished he had come home with the boy. He saw her straighten, as though bracing for a blow, and he delivered it with the barest shake of his head.
For a full ten seconds, she stood there motionless, and he wondered if perhaps she needed him to tell her.
“I—” The words wouldn’t come.
His hands drew up in a fist against the rage that filled him, that made his breathing a little harsh and his muscles tense. At that moment, he felt the loss as surely as if it were his child, and, without thinking, he crossed to her.
“Becky. Honey.”
Rebecca jumped, not having realized he was so close. “I’m all right.” It was a lie. Luke was her last hope, her certain hope. “All day, as the search parties returned...nothing. I kept thinking that you would—” She closed her eyes and turned away.
“I know,” he said softly. “Becky, answer me one question. Is there anyone who would have something against you? Anyone who would want to hurt you?”
Her eyes flew open, sparked with astonishment. “No. No one.”
“You’re certain?”
She shook her head. “No one. Why?”
“Then, since the boy hasn’t been found, all my experience is telling me that he’s been kidnapped.”
She didn’t move. Deep down, she’d known all along that was the truth; she’d simply refused to acknowledge it until now. She rubbed her eyes against the tears that threatened. “Why?” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “Why is this happening?”
“I don’t know, darlin’.” His tone was soft and easy.
Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. Dear God, hadn’t she cried enough? Rage and fear mixed and mingled until she started to shake, and the tears continued.
“I can’t—” Tears clogged her throat.
Wanting privacy, she started past Luke, but he blocked her way. He caught her face in his work-roughened hands and looked at her in that way that was uniquely Luke’s, and much too familiar.
He had the softest eyes she’d ever seen, and a way of looking at her that made the world spin away. She could drown in those eyes and not care. She felt her defenses dissolving, releasing the pain and fear she’d stored there since Andrew’s disappearance.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His voice caressed her like the summer sun. “You need someone. You’re trying to carry the weight of the world on those slender shoulders of yours.” His hands traced the line of her shoulders. Her skin warmed to his touch. “Everyone needs someone. I’m here for you.” She didn’t resist when he pulled her into the fold of his arms and kissed the top of her head, resting his cheek there. “Tell me your fear.” He kissed the top of her head again. “It isn’t half so bad when you put a little light to it.”
That fear that had been circling in her
The house was quiet, still and lifeless. Any fleeting hope that someone else had found the boy disappeared in the funereal silence.
He saw Rebecca step through the double doorway of the dining room. Her hair was down, all golden silk, tied back at her neck with a blue ribbon in a way that made her look young, that made him remember her that way.
She’d changed into dry clothes since he’d left. She was wearing a high-necked long-sleeved blouse that was pale blue, with enough starch to effectively hide the gentle swell of her breasts, and at least a hundred tiny buttons that would take a man an hour to get undone. Her skirt was straight and black, and it drew flat across her belly, provocatively outlining her hips in a way that Luke couldn’t help appreciating.
She was head-turning beautiful, even in this tragic time.
She didn’t speak, just stared at him with those haunting blue eyes of hers. The ones he’d seen every night in his dreams—only then they’d been filled with excitement and passion. Now they were filled with so much sadness he had to look away from the intensity of it.
He tried to say something, something encouraging, something promising. God, he wished he had come home with the boy. He saw her straighten, as though bracing for a blow, and he delivered it with the barest shake of his head.
For a full ten seconds, she stood there motionless, and he wondered if perhaps she needed him to tell her.
“I—” The words wouldn’t come.
His hands drew up in a fist against the rage that filled him, that made his breathing a little harsh and his muscles tense. At that moment, he felt the loss as surely as if it were his child, and, without thinking, he crossed to her.
“Becky. Honey.”
Rebecca jumped, not having realized he was so close. “I’m all right.” It was a lie. Luke was her last hope, her certain hope. “All day, as the search parties returned...nothing. I kept thinking that you would—” She closed her eyes and turned away.
“I know,” he said softly. “Becky, answer me one question. Is there anyone who would have something against you? Anyone who would want to hurt you?”
Her eyes flew open, sparked with astonishment. “No. No one.”
“You’re certain?”
She shook her head. “No one. Why?”
“Then, since the boy hasn’t been found, all my experience is telling me that he’s been kidnapped.”
She didn’t move. Deep down, she’d known all along that was the truth; she’d simply refused to acknowledge it until now. She rubbed her eyes against the tears that threatened. “Why?” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “Why is this happening?”
“I don’t know, darlin’.” His tone was soft and easy.
Fresh tears slipped down her cheeks. Dear God, hadn’t she cried enough? Rage and fear mixed and mingled until she started to shake, and the tears continued.
“I can’t—” Tears clogged her throat.
Wanting privacy, she started past Luke, but he blocked her way. He caught her face in his work-roughened hands and looked at her in that way that was uniquely Luke’s, and much too familiar.
He had the softest eyes she’d ever seen, and a way of looking at her that made the world spin away. She could drown in those eyes and not care. She felt her defenses dissolving, releasing the pain and fear she’d stored there since Andrew’s disappearance.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His voice caressed her like the summer sun. “You need someone. You’re trying to carry the weight of the world on those slender shoulders of yours.” His hands traced the line of her shoulders. Her skin warmed to his touch. “Everyone needs someone. I’m here for you.” She didn’t resist when he pulled her into the fold of his arms and kissed the top of her head, resting his cheek there. “Tell me your fear.” He kissed the top of her head again. “It isn’t half so bad when you put a little light to it.”
That fear that had been circling in her
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