an immaculate pink jumpsuit and hood and wrapped in a warm blanket, and she was sleeping peacefully against his shoulder. She looked about a year old, not that Brooke had any experience with infants.
Nor will I...
She pushed the thought from her head. Now wasn’t the time to reminisce about what she would never have. Could never have.
“Then whose...”
“Can I put her down somewhere?” he asked, ignoring her question. “Perhaps the sofa?”
Brooke nodded and closed the door. “Of course. This way.”
He motioned to the rifle by the door. “Was that intended for me?”
“If you were a threat...then, yes.”
“I’m not a threat to you,” he assured her.
“I guess I decide that once you tell me what this is about.”
She led the way to the living room and pointed to the big chintz sofa. He gently set the sleeping child down and secured a couple of cushions around her. Once he was done he straightened and let out a short sigh.
“This is about Cara,” he said, looking at the baby and then back to Brooke. “And she’s your niece.”
The breath rushed from her throat and she glared at him. “My what?”
* * *
Tyler hadn’t intended to show up on Brooke Laughton’s doorstep in the middle of the night. But he was all out of patience by the time he realized he’d missed the turnoff for Cedar River and since he was so close to where he needed to be, he took his chances. The long flight from New York, the mix-up with the rental car and a screwy GPS had done nothing to improve his mood. And Cara had been unusually restless most of the trip. He really should have brought the nanny with him to look after her. But he was all out of patience with that idea, too. He hadn’t liked the woman and her bossy ways. She was more drill sergeant than nanny. It was better this way and meant one less complication to deal with.
He was in Cedar River, South Dakota, to fulfil a promise he’d made to a dying girl and to an old man to whom he owed an enduring debt. He’d promised Ralph Jürgens that he would try and place Cara with her biological father, and that’s what he would endeavor to do.
Tyler looked at the woman standing barely three feet from him. She was pretty in a hometown kind of way. Her thick blond hair was tied up in a messy ponytail and she had freckles across the bridge of her nose. She had nice features and clear skin and although the sweats she wore were shapeless, he was sure there were curves underneath. But it was her eyes that caught his attention. Indigo eyes. So blue they appeared violet. The baby had the same color eyes. If he’d had any doubts that twelve month old Cara was Matt Laughton’s child they quickly disappeared.
“Your brother’s child.”
She gasped. “I don’t believe it. Matt wouldn’t be so—”
“Irresponsible?” Tyler finished for her. He knew enough about Matthew Laughton to figure that being responsible wasn’t on his radar. “Now, we both know that’s not true.”
Her chin hiked up. She had a temper, that was for sure. He wasn’t sure why it intrigued him, but it did.
“If Matt had a child he would have told me.”
“He doesn’t know about the child,” Tyler explained. “Which is why I am here. If you can give me a number where I can reach him we should be able to sort this out quickly.”
She didn’t look like she was prepared to give him anything. Except perhaps a punch in the nose. It only took a few minutes in her company to realize that Brooke Laughton wasn’t about to simply comply with his demands and give him Matthew’s contact details. She wanted answers. And her next words confirmed that.
“Not until you explain the situation to me fully, Mr. Madden.”
Tyler sighed heavily and motioned to the other sofa. “Shall we sit?”
She eyed him warily, but nodded and plonked herself on the single love seat by the fireplace. Tyler sat on the sofa, rested his elbows on his knees and looked around the room. There was a large family portrait above the fireplace and she looked to be around fifteen in the photograph. There were other pictures on the mantel—an old couple he assumed were her grandparents, and another of Brooke with three other women all wearing evening gowns and holding up champagne flutes. Family and friends—they were clearly important to her. A few Christmas cards sat on the mantel but there was no tree or gifts in the room.
Christmas. It was barely a week away. And not his scene. Maybe it wasn’t Brooke Laughton’s, either. Regardless, with any luck he’d be back in New York before the week was out.
“So?” she asked. “I’d like an explanation.”
Tyler nodded and focused his attention on the woman in front of him. “A little under two years ago your brother had a brief relationship with a young woman called Yelena Jürgens. That relationship resulted in Yelena’s pregnancy. By the time she discovered she was pregnant Matthew was long gone and she chose not to tell him about the baby.”
Her gaze narrowed. “Why not?”
Tyler shrugged lightly. “I’m not privy to what went on in their relationship. He was gone by then and Yelena was alone. I do know that Yelena wanted the child and planned to care for the baby herself.”
Brooke Laughton was quiet for a moment, looking at him and then the sleeping child. “And where is Yelena now?”
“She passed away four months ago,” Tyler explained. “She had kidney failure brought upon by diabetes that she’d suffered with all her life. She was scheduled for a transplant but wouldn’t accept treatment or surgery once she knew she was pregnant.”
He watched as she swallowed hard and he saw a shadow of sadness in her expression. “And so where do you fit into this little story?”
“I’m her grandfather’s lawyer. And friend,” he added quietly. “I’ve known Ralph Jürgens for eighteen years. Ralph is Yelena’s grandfather and her only relative. Her parents were killed many years ago and Ralph raised her.”
“That’s so sad. But...this baby...are you sure she’s my brother’s—”
“Positive,” he said, cutting her off. He withdrew an envelope from the pocket inside his jacket and passed it to her.
“What’s this?” she asked and opened the letter.
“Cara’s birth certificate,” he explained. “As you can see, your brother is named as the child’s father.”
“But that could just be—”
“I met your brother several times when he was involved with Yelena,” he said, cutting through her protest. “And they certainly appeared to have had an intimate relationship.”
She looked shocked. Disbelieving. Cynical. “If Matt knew about the baby he—”
“But he didn’t,” Tyler interrupted. “As I explained, Yelena discovered she was pregnant after your brother left New York. It was only at the end of her illness that she instructed me to find him and tell him he was Cara’s father. Paternity can certainly be confirmed with DNA testing if needed.”
Her gaze narrowed. “You said she died four months ago.”
“Yes,” he replied. “When Cara was nearly eight months old.”
“And it’s taken you that long to track Matt to here?”
Tyler half shrugged. “Not exactly. When Yelena died her grandfather asked me to hold off contacting your brother. Ralph had hoped he would be able to take on the responsibility himself.”
“But?”
“He’s eighty-five and knows he hasn’t got too many