Summer's Distant Heart - Laura Landon Page 0,7

asked softly, almost in a whisper. And yet, his voice held a threat. There was a demand in his tone.

Lia turned with the babe in her arms. She made sure to stay far enough away so Lord Atherton could not snatch the babe. She slowly lowered the blanket from around the babe’s face and turned him so Lord Atherton could get a good look at his brother’s child.

“It’s not possible,” his lordship whispered in a muted hiss.

Lia snuggled the babe against her breast and turned as if to protect him. “What is?” she asked.

The Earl of Atherton slumped against the wall, then swiped his hand over his face.

“It’s like looking at a portrait. The child is a replica of my brother.”

Lia turned back toward him, offering the man a second look at his nephew.

“What did you name him?” he asked in a weak voice.

“He is named after my father, George, and yourself. George Hunter Montclaire.” Lia lifted her gaze. “It’s what Evan would have wanted.”

Atherton reached out and touched the babe as if he were made of glass. As if he would break. He touched little George’s cheek with the back of his finger, then Atherton held out that same finger for the babe to take. The child wrapped his tiny fist around his uncle’s sturdy finger and held on tightly.

The expression on Atherton’s face filled with wonder. It was obvious he wasn’t accustomed to being in the presence of babies. Obvious he didn’t have the slightest idea how to act around a child this small.

“May I hold him?”

Lia turned her head and focused her gaze on her aunt. There was a frown on her aunt’s face as if she didn’t trust his lordship. Lia didn’t trust him either.

“Sit in that rocking chair,” Lia said, pointing to the chair in the far corner of the room.

Aunt Mildred walked to the door and called for the butler who appeared within moments.

“Hobson, come in and guard the door.”

“Yes, my lady.”

Hobson closed the door and stood in front of it so the Earl of Atherton couldn’t escape if he tried to take George. Lia prayed the old fellow was stronger than he looked. Still, being seated in the rocking chair would slow Lord Atherton should he try anything.

When the Earl of Atherton was seated, Lia held George out and placed him in the earl’s arms. He held the babe awkwardly, as if the child were a fragile piece of china.

“He won’t break,” Lia said.

“I’ve never held a babe before.”

Atherton adjusted George and even became brave enough to reach for the babe’s hand and hold it.

Lia watched as George stared at the stranger holding him and frowned. Then, the babe reached up and grabbed Lord Atherton’s cravat in his fist and graced him with a bright smile and a giggle.

His lordship didn’t stop his nephew from pulling on the elegantly-tied fabric. He let him pull until the knot was undone. When the babe tired of undoing Atherton’s cravat, he cooed, then wiggled in boredom.

Lord Atherton gave what nearly appeared to be a smile as he reached into his pocket. Lia gasped, unnerved over what he might withdraw. But before she could contemplate his intent, Lord Atherton drew a small object from his pocket and dangled it on a slim black ribbon above the baby’s face. It twisted and turned, catching the light and eliciting all sorts of delighted burbles from the baby.

Lia stepped forward to see the object more clearly, and recognized it as a funeral brooch—a beautifully faceted piece of jewelry with a glass center that held a twist of blond braid.

The late Lord Atherton’s hair.

Georgie reached for it, intent upon capturing the gleaming object that held a lock of his father’s golden hair.

The sweetness of the scene brought tears to Lia’s eyes, until the new Lord Atherton snatched it back up into his hand and thrust it toward Lia.

“I trust you’ll keep this for him,” Atherton said in voice that seemed brusque with indifference.

The abrupt disappearance of the shiny object and Atherton’s harsh voice set the baby fussing. Lia reached down and took George back. The earl willingly gave him up, then stood.

Lia separated herself from him enough that she was out of the Earl of Atherton’s reach. She lifted her head and their gazes locked. His eyes held a dark, unreadable expression. There was nothing that hinted at softness or understanding, but only a burning lethal resolve that indicated there were many battles ahead of them.

Battles he intended to win.

Chapter 3

Hunter