Paternal Instincts

Cover Page

Excerpt

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Copyright

“I was wondering if you’d consider marrying me.”

Her words echoed in her ears. Spoken aloud, they sounded like lunacy, but there was no taking them back. “It wouldn’t be forever. Just until I get Jamie,” she added hurriedly.

The stunned expression on his face caused nausea to bubble in her throat. “You probably aren’t interested. Forget I asked,” she blurted out.

But Eric was surprised by his own attitude. She was wrong. He was interested. “Well, I did promise Jamie I’d do what I could,” he muttered. But it wasn’t Jamie he was thinking of as he rose. What he was thinking of was her in his bed. Don’t you think marrying a woman simply to bed her is a little extreme? his inner voice argued.

“If you need a husband for a while, I can handle that.”

Dear Reader,

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Favorite author Elizabeth August continues our MEN! promotion with Paternal Instincts. This latest installment in her SMYTHESHIRE, MASSACHUSETTS series features an irresistible lone wolf turned doting dad! As a special treat, Carolyn Zane’s sizzling family drama, THE BRUBAKER BRIDES, continues with His Brother’s Intended Bride—the title says it all!

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Happy holidays,

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Senior Editor

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Paternal Instincts

Elizabeth August

www.millsandboon.co.uk

ELIZABETH AUGUST

lives in western North Carolina, with her husband, Doug, and her three boys, Douglas, Benjamin and Matthew. She began writing romances soon after Matthew was born. She’s always wanted to write.

Elizabeth does counted cross-stitching to keep from eating at night. It doesn’t always work. “I love to bowl, but I’m not very good. I keep my team’s handicap high. I like hiking in the Shenandoahs, as long as we start up the mountain so the return trip is down rather than vice versa.” She loves to go to Cape Hatteras to watch the sun rise over the ocean. Elizabeth August has also published under the pseudonym Betsy Page.

Chapter One

Eric Bishop, code name Knight, lay in the hospital bed staring at the ceiling. Moving any part of his body required tremendous effort. He’d stopped drifting in and out of consciousness and was now fully awake. The images of Thistle and Coyote emerged from the foggy recesses of his mind. They were fellow covert agents working for The Unit, an elite squad of the military police, and they thought he was a traitor. He remembered telling them he was taking his orders from The Manager, their code for the head of The Unit, when the shooter had nailed him.

“They told me you’d woken.”

Eric had been concentrating so hard on trying to recall the circumstances that had landed him in this hospital bed, he hadn’t heard the approaching footsteps of the heavyset, elderly, very distinguished gentleman who now stood by his bedside in a well-tailored three-piece suit, leaning on a gold-topped cane. “Tobias.” His gaze shifted to the rest of the room, scanning it quickly to make certain they were alone. Then in lowered tones he asked, “How are Thistle and Coyote?”

“They’re fine,” Tobias Smith replied, his manner fatherly.

In spite of his weakened condition, Eric managed a defiant scowl. “They think I’m a traitor. I’m not.”

Tobias smiled reassuringly. “We all know that. Susan Irving was the mole. She told you The Manager wanted you to fake your death and go out into the cold with her as your only contact.”

“Yes. I assumed she was relaying orders like always. They were coded.”

“She broke the code.”

Picturing the pretty blonde with such innocent eyes, Eric wondered if he was hallucinating. “She was the mole?”

“Never underestimate a secretary or a receptionist.” Tobias repeated the lesson he’d learned.

“Did you catch her?”

“Yes.” Tobias frowned as if displeased with himself. “After she was caught, she kept offering to cut a deal. At first, we refused. Fear for her safety had caused her to give us information that helped nail one of her cohorts in Mexico and we figured she didn’t have much else to bargain with. Then she told us there was a man who’d taught her how to run her operation. In return, she’d paid him a percentage of the profits. She gave us the account number she’d put the money in, but it had been cleaned out about the time you’d gotten shot.”

“Guess he was worried she wasn’t covering her trail well enough and decided to sever his ties,” Eric muttered.

Tobias nodded. “Most likely. According to her, she wasn’t his only pupil. She was certain he had others he’d taught and continued to deal with. She also suspected that he sometimes ran an operation himself just for the kicks.”

“A mastermind who trains thieves and traitors. Nice guy,” Eric said.

The frown on Tobias’s face deepened. “She wouldn’t give us the name until the deal was struck. Before that could happen, in spite of the security that was provided, she was poisoned. One of her guards had sold out for half a million dollars. He was found dead a couple of days later with a bullet in the head.”

“And you never found out who she was going to name?”

Tobias shook his head. “I’m not even certain this mastermind she described exists. She could have emptied out that account herself and was creating a fictitious bad guy because she knew she needed something dramatic with which to deal. As to who paid for her death, she’d dealt with a lot of ruthless men, any of whom would have been afraid she might give evidence against them.” His frown faded, replaced by an expression of concern. “Enough about Susan. How are you feeling?”

“As if I’ve been asleep for a year.”

“Actually, it’s been nearly three years.”

Eric stared at Tobias in disbelief. This had to be one of those realistic nightmares. He ordered himself to wake up. Nothing changed.

“You were shot,” Tobias reminded him.

“That I remember.”

“The bullet did a lot of damage. You were operated on. While you were in intensive care, another attempt was made on your life. The doctor was instructed to make up a fake death certificate and then we had you transported to this private clinic. We were warned that transporting you could be dangerous but felt it was necessary in order to keep you alive. During transport you slipped into a coma. To be honest, when the nurse walked in this morning and found you awake, it was a shock to the staff here. They’d given up on you.” Tobias grinned. “But I hadn’t. Tenacity was one of the major traits I looked for when recruiting my people.”

Eric was still having trouble comprehending this news. “Three years?” He suddenly frowned, recalling that Harold had taken over Tobias’s position as head of The Unit before all of this had happened. “Why are you here? I thought you’d retired…vanished from the game.”

“I’m doing a friend a favor.”

Mentally, Eric gave himself a slap on the head. Of course Harold wouldn’t have come himself and risked exposing himself and one of his people.

“We think all of the loose ends have been cleaned up,” Tobias said. “But it would help if you could tell me about your activities during the weeks prior to your being shot.”

“I’ve been trying to remember, but I’m drawing a blank. The truth is my memory is pretty spotty for the two or three years before I was shot. I guess I remember Susan because I was about to tell Thistle and Coyote she was my contact. The doc says that it’s not unusual for me to remember the very last things that were on my mind. He also says I might not get all of my memory back, and if I do, it’ll probably be in bits and pieces.”

“Susan was very crafty. I doubt you discovered anything of any. importance during the time you were being manipulated by her. Following your transfer from the hospital to here, there were a few inquiries made to determine if you were actually dead, but they ceased immediately after her capture. That makes me think that she was the only one worried about what you could reveal. You just work on getting your strength back. When you have, I’ll return.” Rising, Tobias frowned critically as his gaze traveled over Eric’s lean form. “Your old wardrobe won’t fit. I’ll arrange for some sweat suits and tennis shoes to be provided for you until you’re ready to leave here. Then you can do your own shopping.”

Eric watched him leave. Three years. He’d lost three years of his life. “Looks like I have some catching up to do.”

“Forty,” Eric counted under his breath, completing another push-up. It was four weeks since he’d returned to the world of the living. His muscle tone was improving, but he still wasn’t up to his full potential. Normally he could have done a hundred before tiring. Currently, fifty was his limit. When he finished this warm-up, he’d go through his katas, retraining his body to make the defensive karate moves with a sharpness that would hopefully keep him alive when he returned to the field.

Sensing he was being watched, he paused in the raised position and looked covertly toward the door. The polished leather shoes and gold-tipped cane told him who his visitor was. In one lithe movement he was on his feet. “I hope you’ve come to spring me from this place.”

“I have,” Tobias confirmed.

Half an hour later Eric sat beside his former superior in the rear seat of a rented luxury sedan. The blond man behind the wheel had been introduced to him as Tobias’s grandnephew, Hagen Scanlon.

“Your doctor insists you be given a couple more months off duty to regain your full strength. You’ll have it,” Tobias said as the sedan pulled away from the private clinic. “After that you have two options. You can return to active duty in the military or take an early retirement and return to civilian life. If you choose the latter, I’d like you to consider coming to work for me. I’m running a private investigative agency now.”

Eric grinned wryly. “Since returning to The Unit isn’t one of those options, can I assume Harold is worried that I’ve lost my edge and will endanger his operation?”

“We’re all aware that a close brush with death can affect a man, change his outlook. He might let fear rule, bolt too quickly…make mistakes.”

“And you’re not worried about that?”

“I know you. You’re too responsible to knowingly endanger anyone. If you’ve lost your edge, you’ll tell me.”

Eric heard the question in Tobias’s voice. “I don’t think I’ve lost it. I’d still like to save the world from the bad guys.”

Tobias nodded his approval. “However, as for The Unit, Harold’s worry about you losing your edge isn’t the only reason that isn’t an option. Susan compromised its operation. It has been relocated and restaffed.”

Recalling how protective both Tobias and Harold were toward their people, Eric nodded his understanding.

“So, now you know your options,” Tobias continued in businesslike tones. “Consider them. In the meantime you need a place to recuperate.” He extracted a large manila envelope from a nearby briefcase and handed it to Eric. “When you showed no signs of coming out of the coma, I had myself appointed your legal guardian. I canceled the lease on your apartment and had your furniture and personal effects put into storage.” He named a storage company and a location just outside Washington, D.C. “The key to your private storage lock-up is in there.” He nodded toward the envelope. “There is also your savings account book, your checkbook, a current credit card and an ATM card. The military wouldn’t keep you on full salary. They wanted something to defer your medical costs. However, since the balance in your checking and savings accounts was fairly high, I had all new monies invested and they’ve paid off nicely. Currently, Hesper Lawton, my personal financial advisor, is overseeing your account. Her name and phone number are in there, and when you want access to any of those funds, just contact her.”

Eric frowned. “I had a designated amount each month being sent to the O’Malley Home for Boys.”

“I saw that that was continued in full.” Concern entered Tobias’s voice. “However, three months ago I received notification that the O’Malley account had been closed. I’d been having your mail forwarded to me. A few days later a letter arrived from a Roxanne Dugan, informing you of Maude O’Malley’s death and the closing of the home. It’s all in that envelope.”

Eric felt as if he’d been kicked in the stomach. Maude O’Malley wasn’t blood kin and, other than the money he’d sent regularly, he hadn’t seen her in years. Still, she was the closest to family he had.

“My jet is at the airport. I’ll drop you and Hagen off in Washington, D.C., so you can renew your driver’s license and buy some more clothes. And, if you want, you can get your car out of storage. It’s at the same place as your other belongings. After that, I’d like for you to come up to my place to recuperate. Hagen will show you the way. It’s right outside of Craftsbury Common, Vermont. The mountain air will do you good and the quiet will give you time to think about your future,” Tobias continued.

“I’ll want to make a stop in Pennsylvania,” Eric said around the lump in his throat. “I need to pay my respects to Maude.”

Tobias nodded.

They had reached the airport. After boarding the plane and buckling himself into his seat, Eric leaned back, closed his eyes and recalled Maude O’Malley as he’d first seen her. She was medium in build, standing around five feet six inches tall, with flaming red hair lightly streaked with gray, and green eyes. He doubted that any woman had more spirit than her. The O’Malley Home for Boys had been born because of that spirit.

Maude’s husband, Norman, had died, leaving her alone with the farm to run. She’d been in her mid-thirties at the time and determined to keep the place. When it came around to harvest time, she couldn’t find help. She’d grown up in Eric’s neighborhood. It was a blue-collar enclave in Philadelphia that had fallen on hard times. She went back there looking for some sturdy teenage boys to hire for a month.

“All the good’uns done gone,” one of the older women had told her. “All’s we got left is the troublemakers and loafers.”

“Then I’ll take what’s left,” Maude had said. She’d found four boys to take back with her. Two went home almost immediately when they discovered how much work was involved. But two had stayed until the crop was in.

Later that winter one of the boys who had remained came back and asked if he could stay and work for his room and board. His mother had taken off and his father was in jail. Maude, never having had any children of her own, welcomed him like a long-lost son. The second boy who had stayed had such an improved attitude, his juvenile probation officer came out to the farm to visit Maude. She suggested a couple of boys Maude could hire for the next summer…boys the officer felt had potential for good but needed to get out of their current environment, even if it was just for a short while.

As the years passed more boys came to stay. Sometimes it was the juvenile authorities who recommended Maude’s place to families as an alternative to the child ending up in jail. Sometimes, a parent or guardian heard about the farm through word of mouth and brought a child they could no longer handle. Or sometimes, as in Eric’s case, an unwanted child was dropped off at the gate with a note giving Maude guardianship.

The rules were simple. You worked. You went to church. You didn’t steal and you didn’t hurt anyone. In return Maude gave the boys love and the feeling that they were members of a real family. She never expected perfection. But if you crossed her, she had a way of looking at you with so much disappointment in her eyes that you wanted to crawl under a rock.

“Maude O’Malley must have meant a great deal to you,” Tobias said, breaking into Eric’s thoughts.

Eric didn’t normally feel comfortable talking about himself, but the memories of his childhood were too strong at the moment. They demanded to be released. “My mother died when I was born. My father was an alcoholic and physically abusive. My mother’s family didn’t want to have anything to do with him or me. My dad had beaten my mother the night before she went into labor. He didn’t want to face up to the fact that he was probably responsible for her death, so he blamed me. He took me directly from the hospital to his parents and left me with them. They weren’t happy about having another child to raise. I was getting into trouble with the police by the time I was nine. When I was ten, my grandmother heard about Maude’s place and had my father sign a paper giving Maude guardianship of me. Then they took me out there and dropped me off. The authorities warned Maude not to keep me. They said I was incorrigible and they doubted I was redeemable. But Maude kept me. We had a few rough times those first months, but she proved to me that there were good people in this world.”

“I wish I’d known her,” Tobias said.

Eric nodded, then fell silent once again. He hadn’t seen Maude in years. The first Christmas after he’d left, he’d gone back, but it hadn’t been the same. She’d had her hands full with a new nine-year-old who reminded him of himself and a fifteen-year-old who’d been badly abused. Eric had known she was glad to see him, but he also knew that, like the baby bird pushed from the nest, he didn’t belong there anymore.

After that, he’d called once in a while when he needed to hear a friendly voice and he’d sent money regularly, but he hadn’t gone back. As the plane touched down in Washington, D.C., he said, “There’s no need for Hagen to baby-sit me. I’ll find my way to your place on my own.”

For a moment Tobias looked as if he was going to argue, then, reaching into his pocket, he took out a gold case and extracted a business card from it. “This has my phone number on it. Call me if you need me.”

Eric thanked him and, after shoving the manila envelope into his satchel, he disembarked.

Roxanne Dugan, known as Roxy, took the intricately carved wooden box from its drawer and set it on the table. Seating herself, she opened it and took out the deck of Tarot cards housed within. For as many generations as anyone could remember, the women in her family had read cards. This deck had been handmade by her great-grandmother and given to Roxy as a gift on the day she was born. She loved the artwork and the feel of them. In her younger, more skeptical days, she’d discounted their warnings and had lived to regret it.

It had been several months since she’d sought their guidance. Her chin trembled as she recalled the last time she’d laid them out. It had been just after Maude’s heart attack. She’d gone to them hoping they would tell her that Maude would be all right. Instead, they’d told her that Death was at the door. Hating them because they were the messengers of news she knew was true but didn’t want to face, she’d put them away and had not wanted to look at them again.

But for the past couple of weeks a sense of uneasiness had been building within her and she needed to know its cause. Hesitantly, she began to spread the cards. Jamie’s card turned up first. Tears welled in her eyes. By the time Maude’s heart had given out completely, she’d found safe sanctuary for all the children under Roxy’s and her care except for the withdrawn ten-year-old. Roxy had tried to explain to the social services people that the boy needed to stay with her, that he was beginning to respond to her, but they’d explained that the law wouldn’t allow that and had assured her that they would take good care of him. She’d told them that she wanted to adopt him and they’d told her that they didn’t feel she could meet the required conditions. They’d even refused to tell her where he was. They’d said that he needed to make a complete break from her so that he could bond with his new family.

She knew the laws were made to protect the children and that the social services people were doing their best, but in Jamie’s and her case they were wrong. At least, that’s what she wanted to believe. Maybe the cards were telling her what she wanted them to tell her. She touched the card lovingly and said a silent prayer that a guardian angel was looking over the boy.

The next card brought a puzzled frown to her face. For approximately three years now The Hanged Man card had been one of the first two cards in any rotation. She’d given up trying to figure out why. Her instinct was to interpret it as a life in suspension. But that didn’t describe her life, at least not until Jamie had been taken from her. Tonight, however, it was the Knight of Swords that appeared.

“I could use a knight in shining armor,” she muttered. But she’d stopped believing in such myths a long time ago. Still, a glimmer of hope began to glow. The uneasiness she’d been feeling did resemble the kind of sensation a person experienced when waiting for something to happen or someone to arrive.

The next card extinguished the glimmer of hope. “The Lovers’ card.” The words left a bitter taste in her mouth. That card had no place in her life anymore. The deck was lying or playing games or merely being uncooperative. She gathered up the cards. “You’re mad because you feel neglected,” she accused them. “Well, if you continue to give me fairy tales, then you’ll be gathering dust for a long time more.” She shuffled the deck and dealt the cards once again.

The first two were the Knight of Swords and the Lovers’ cards. Scowling, she again gathered up the rest without looking and shoved them back in the box.

Chapter Two

Turning his car onto the long dirt driveway that led to the farmhouse that had once belonged to Maude O’Malley, Eric was surprised by the feeling of homecoming that swept through him. With Maude gone, he’d expected a sense of emptiness. A little earlier, in the cemetery, standing beside her grave, he’d experienced sadness and a hollow sensation. He’d almost skipped coming to the house, but some force from within had insisted his pilgrimage would not be complete without seeing the old homestead one last time.