brain. Alice and the flowers. Trevor, giving her that familiar lopsided grin. The church courtyard, with clouds gathering overhead.
A man stood in the alley, his hands thrust in pockets set into the front of his sweatshirt. Despite his jeans and baseball cap, his beard and his intensity made him seem foreign.
And then—a madly swerving car. And the man, holding her.
The hardness of his body had imprinted itself on her memory. In his grip, she’d felt a reluctant stirring of something she didn’t want to name. Something she’d never felt for Trevor.
Then had come the shock of being yanked onto the seat. Had she hit her head? Had she been shot? Anguished, she tried to force herself awake, but her eyelids stuck.
She felt the bite of winter air, tinged with waves of warmth and laced with the aroma of burning wood. Not far off, a low voice murmured in a language she didn’t understand.
Then something erased all other perceptions. It was the sound of Ben gurgling and cooing.
Frustrated, Holly tried to sit up, and discovered that her hands and feet were tied. When she managed to open her eyes, moisture blurred her vision until she blinked twice to clear it.
Her first impression was of a rustic cabin. She lay on a fold-out couch in an alcove, beyond which she could see a wood-paneled room with blinds on the windows. A table lamp was augmented by the flickering of an unseen fire.
She inched along the mattress until a large stone fireplace came into view. On a small table nearby, a blanket had been spread. Atop it lay the tiny figure of Ben, his arms waving.
One glimpse of the man towering over him made Holly go rigid.
Although the beard and mustache were gone, the piercing gaze belonged unmistakably to the man who had attacked her in the churchyard. Instead of jeans, he wore a white headdress and robe that made him look utterly alien.
Her first, confused reaction was that a sheikh had ridden out of some old movie. Reality was much more terrifying. The man who had her and Ben at his mercy must be some kind of delusional maniac.
She prayed that he wouldn’t notice she was awake. Surely she could find a way to untie her hands and rescue her nephew.
Holly studied the cord binding her. There was no slack, and no apparent weakness in the rope, either.
Cautiously, she twisted her wrists. The cord bit harder. Holly pressed her lips together to keep from crying out.
Her captor paid her no attention. But he must be doing something that Ben didn’t like, because the baby began squalling.
“Don’t hurt him!” she called. “If you have to torture someone, do it to me!”
The dark man looked up, and she noticed a white object in his hand. A diaper. For heaven’s sake, he was trying to change the baby!
If Holly hadn’t been so frightened, she might have found his expression comical. It was the kind of befuddled expression Trevor had worn once when she thrust Ben into his arms so she could answer a phone call.
“So, you are awake,” he said. “I am sorry I was forced to drug you. Do you have any pain?”
“I’m just…sleepy.” Her voice sounded hollow. “What time is it?”
“A little past seven.”
Holly groaned. Her wedding was ruined. The guests, Trevor, Alice. What must they think?
“Believe me, I have no intention of torturing anyone.” Her captor indicated her ties. “The sooner I can return you to your bridegroom, the better, but in the meantime certain precautions were regrettably necessary.”
Holly had to admit that, clean-shaven, his face was handsome in a thoroughly masculine way, and his expression not unkind. But what about the outlandish costume?
“Why are you wearing that?” she asked.
He smoothed down his robe. “I would not go outside dressed this way, not in your country. But I wanted my son to see me as I really am.”
“Your—?” She didn’t need to finish the question. Not when she’d finally realized why those penetrating eyes looked so familiar.
They were Ben’s eyes.
“You’re his father,” she whispered. “Oh, Lord.” Through the lingering effects of medication, her brain churned over this disturbing discovery. She’d found Jazz’s secret lover, or, rather, he’d found her and Ben. “What have you done with my sister?”
The man returned his attention to the baby. “Nothing. I thought you were her.”
“What?” Holly made the mistake of trying to push herself up. The cords tightened again, making her wince. “How could you?”
“I know her only from a photograph. It was arranged through a clinic. She did not tell you?” He put one hand beneath the baby’s backside and tried to raise his bottom while sliding the diaper beneath it.
Free-spirited Jazz would never have agreed to bear this child for pay! “I don’t believe you. Why would my sister want to be a surrogate mother?”
“I was told she wanted money to make a demonstration recording.” He broke off as Ben kicked lustily, flinging one of his booties into a corner and dislodging the diaper from the man’s grip.
“You’re doing that wrong!”
“Evidently.” Keeping one hand on the baby, the man leaned back and squinted at the child. “It appears to be a problem of structural engineering.”
“You’re an engineer?” Holly needed to make sense of this situation, and to learn anything she could.
“I am many things,” the man replied enigmatically. “But I am not an abuser of women. I will release you from your bonds if you will care for my son. As you have pointed out, I don’t seem to be doing very well at it.”
His accent sounded Middle Eastern. “Where are you from?”
“Your sister told you nothing of me?” Wrapping the fussing baby in the blanket, he carried him, along with the diaper, to Holly.
“Nothing at all. And believe me, I tried to find out who the father was.” She started to reach for Ben, and stopped with a gasp.
The man set the baby on the center of the bed. “My cousin Zahad must have tied the rope too tightly. He was in a hurry.”
At close range, she could see small cuts on the man’s neck from where shards of glass had hit him. Other than that, his skin had a smooth olive cast, with some roughness where he’d recently shaved.
The man smelled of shampoo, and his thick hair, what she could see of it, was damp, so he must have showered since they arrived. Yet there was an under-current of wild musk about him that no soap could wash away.
From inside the robe flashed a knife. Holly scarcely had time to register the danger before the man sliced the cord between her wrists, then the one at
