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Lesley knew her eyes were wild as she grabbed hold of Mrs. Applegate’s shoulders. “Where is he? I need him. I have to talk to him…have to convince him to stay.”
“Come sit down,” the older woman said in soothing tones, and led Lesley into the library. “Sit down and relax, otherwise you’ll hurt the baby. I’ll get Mr. Zane for you, now don’t you fret. He’ll be home in a jiffy. I’ll bring you in a pot of herbal tea and everything will be fine in a few moments.”
Lesley was convinced that nothing would ever be fine again. She was sobbing uncontrollably now, her shoulders rocking back and forth in an effort to put some measure of order to her thoughts. Nothing made sense. Nothing added up.
Zane had married her, given her his child and now he intended to leave her for a suicide mission. He intended to leave her, to go off somewhere and die.
She didn’t know how long she sat there staring into space, fighting a pain so deep, she couldn’t think, couldn’t move, couldn’t feel. A shocking numbness attacked her senses.
“Thank heavens you’re home. It’s Lesley. Something’s terribly wrong.” Lesley heard Mrs. Applegate’s voice but it seemed to come from a great distance through the fog of pain.
“What happened?”
Could that urgent voice belong to Zane?
“I don’t know. She came flying into the kitchen, screaming for you.”
“The baby? Is something wrong with the baby?” Again this was from Zane, and panic echoed with each word.
“No, no,” the housekeeper assured him. “She was crying out for you.”
Lesley remained frozen, unable to move. The mahogany doors glided open and Zane entered the library.
“Lesley?” He said her name softly and knelt down in front of her.
Her hands were tightly clasped together and she kept her head lowered, refusing to make eye contact.
“What’s upset you so much?”
The searing pain in her heart felt as though she’d been branded with a white-hot iron. Slowly, pride and anger dictating her actions, she lifted her head. Her eyes clashed against his. Fury and outrage bounced against gentle concern.
“Who’s Schuyler?” she demanded in words as cold as an Arctic wind.
Zane stiffened. “Who told you?”
“Who’s Schuyler?” she asked again, louder.
Her husband stood, his movement awkward because of his leg.
“I have a right to know.”
“Yes,” he agreed readily. “You have every right.” He sat down on the ottoman and leaned forward, pressing his elbows against his knees. He didn’t speak and Lesley was fast losing patience.
“What about the letter?”
“It was from a friend. He told me he suspected Schuyler knew I’d survived the explosion. I had to find out if that was true, because it took away any options I had. Now that he knows I’m alive, there’s no guarantee he won’t come after me. I can’t risk putting you and the baby in jeopardy.”
“You can’t fight. Not any longer…not with your injuries.”
“Perhaps, but don’t be so quick to think I want to die. I’ve never had more of a reason to live. Please understand, I wouldn’t leave you if it wasn’t necessary.”
“Can’t you hire someone else?”
“No,” he answered emphatically. “I refuse to bring anyone else into this. What happened is between Schuyler and me. I already carry the guilt for the loss of two good men, more family to me than any I’d had until meeting you. I won’t take on the responsibility for more blood spilled.”
“Dan and David?”
He seemed surprised that she knew their names. “Yes.” He reached for her clenched fist, swallowing her hands with his own. “They were like brothers to me. We’d been together nearly twenty years.” His eyes hardened. “Schuyler murdered them in cold blood right before my eyes. He thought he’d killed me, too, and he nearly had.” His fingers tentatively went to his face, touching the reddened scar. “I wanted to remember what he’d done to my friends. That’s the reason I never bothered with any cosmetic surgery.”
