Lia frowned. “I suppose it is. She’s rather drawn to men.”
“Ah.”
She hesitated, unsure whether to say more. Sorrel was in counseling. Lia didn’t like exposing her kids’ problems to anyone unnecessarily. Surely neither of the two men, federal agents, would behave inappropriately toward a thirteen-year-old girl.
After a moment, she said, “What I really wanted to talk to you about is the boys.”
Hearing how aggressively that had come out, she winced. His expression had been reserved; now it closed completely. Bang. All access denied. She’d blown it.
“I’m sorry,” she said hastily. “That didn’t come out the way I meant it to. The thing is, they’re…vulnerable.”
“And I should have kept my mouth shut at dinnertime.” His tone was resigned. “Understood.”
“No.” She bent her head and bumped it on her crossed arms, then lifted it again. “It’s not that at all. Everything you said was…right. They opened up to you.”
He stared at her. She imagined he’d tensed, but couldn’t be sure. He was very, very good at hiding what he was thinking.
“Okay,” he said slowly.
“I don’t want you being nice to them if you don’t mean it.” She’d gone from belligerent to fierce and didn’t regret it. “If you keep being nice, they’re going to—” She had to swallow, and still her voice came out small and cracked. “Depend on you.”
“And I won’t be around for long.”
“It’s not that,” she said again. “I won’t be a permanent part of their lives, either.” Why did saying that out loud make her feel as if her heart was breaking in two? Kids came, kids left. That’s what she did. “They know you’re only here for a while. What would be bad is if you talk to them, spend time with them, and then blow them off.”
“I see.” He paused. “Let me think about it, okay?”
“Okay.” She hugged her knees harder. “Was what you told them true? About your parents and your brother?”
Still he didn’t move, his expression didn’t change. His eyes were too shadowed in the limited light for her to read them, assuming she could have.
“Yes.”
Lia nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you, but sorry isn’t necessary. I haven’t been a kid in a long time.”
She wondered if he’d ever been a kid after his mom walked out. Or was he even before that? His couldn’t exactly have been an ideal family.
“Even so.”
“All right.” He finally put a foot on the first step. “You planning to stay out here long?”
“Maybe a few more minutes.”
“Do you mind if I sit down?”
Her pulse stuttered. “No, of course not.”
He settled at the top of the steps a few feet away, leaning against the post opposite hers. He stretched out his long legs, looking relaxed and comfortable. For some odd reason, Lia had a suspicion he was neither.
“Having us here must be a pain.”
“An inconvenience,” she corrected.
His mouth twitched. “Is that all?”
“A worry.”
His gaze suddenly felt more intense. “Why?”
Because I’m doing something illegal and I’m afraid you’ll notice? “Because I have to think about your influence on the kids, of course. Sorrel and the boys all have big problems. I know I can’t shield them completely, but I try.”
“So I’ve noticed.” He sounded amused. “The glare you gave me at dinner was a clue. Why wasn’t I supposed to criticize the movie?”
“Their mom gave them the DVDs. They’ve been watching them over and over.”
“Ah. Gotcha.” He thought about it. “There are worse movies they could be clinging to.”
“Bambi?”
He grunted; maybe laughed. “Yeah, that one would suck.”
They sat in silence for a minute or two, Lia gazing out into the darkness, Conall—she thought—still looking at her. The sounds of the night were quiet, familiar: the soft, distant hoot of an owl, a whicker from one of the horses, the rustle of grass. None of it felt peaceful, not with him here. Not knowing why he was here.
Finally she couldn’t stand it any longer and started talking. “I take it you grew up locally. Are you glad to be home?”
“No.” For the first time, that deep, husky voice sounded harsh.
Startled, Lia turned her head. “Your memories are that bad?”
“Yes.”
Okay. She groped for a response and came up with nothing better than another, “I’m sorry.”
For the first time, he reacted visibly. Not much, only shifting, but the movement was jerky for a man who customarily moved with the lithe ease of a hunting cat.
“I shouldn’t have said that.” He inhaled; let it out audibly. “Oh, hell. There’s nothing secret about it. Being back here has unsettled me, that’s all.”
“You went to see your brother, didn’t you? Did something happen that bothered you?” she asked, genuinely puzzled.
He laughed, but the sound wasn’t pleasant. “I haven’t seen Duncan since I graduated from college, and that was a long time ago. I never intended to set eyes on him again. It’s my luck that I got stuck with this operation, and that Duncan is the police chief.”
“Never see him again?” She was hung up on that part. “But…you said he raised you. You made it sound like a good thing.”
“It was a good thing. He was noble.” Bitterness roughened his voice now. “You don’t have to tell me. Duncan MacLachlan always does the right thing, whatever the sacrifice he has to make. He saved my ass. I know that.” He was breathing hard. “Oh, hell,” he said again. “I shouldn’t have gotten started.”
“I don’t mind listening if you want to talk.”
He was quiet so long she thought he would rise to his feet any moment and say good-night. And really, why would he talk to her? They were strangers.
But Conall shocked her by speaking after a minute. “He did save me. I’m not kidding about that. I wasn’t like Brendan and Walker. I wasn’t a good kid who could have gone to a foster home like yours. Nobody would have wanted me. I cut classes,
