Burke arrived home at two in the morning. Dead tired, but relieved that he had tied up all the loose ends on another SPEAR matter. The assignment should run smoothly, as originally planned. Jonah had seemed pleased that the new situation had turned out better than the Simon deal. But Burke had pointed out that things could be worse where Simon was concerned, especially if Callie and her child had remained in danger.

As Burke climbed the staircase in his Belgravia mansion, he wondered if Callie and little Seamus had settled in. He had ordered a hurried job on a nursery, telling the decorator to convert the separate sitting room adjacent to the bedroom Callie would be using into an area suitable for a little boy not quite two.

He wanted Callie and her child to feel at home for the duration of their marriage. In a couple of months they would be able to get a divorce and go their separate ways. But in the meantime, he wanted Callie to feel comfortable in his home. At this point, he wasn’t overly concerned about the end of their marriage, only with the day-to-day and night-to-night problems that would inevitably arise. His major concern was how he could ignore the fact that his wife—the woman with whom he’d shared endless hours of sexual pleasure on their honeymoon—would be sleeping down the hall from him.

She’s there now, in her bed, an inner voice reminded him. Warm and soft and waiting. Stop fantasizing! Callie isn’t waiting for you. She’s probably fast asleep. But as he reached the landing, he realized that she was indeed awake. She and her son. He heard the child whimpering and Callie singing to him, her voice sweet and soothing.

He stopped by his bedroom, divested himself of his overcoat, coat and tie and then entered the hall. As he made his way toward Callie’s room, the child quieted. Her bedroom door hung halfway open. He glanced inside and found the room empty. Quietly walking through her room, he listened to the words of the old lullaby she crooned to her baby. When he reached the open pocket doors that led into Seamus’s temporary nursery, Burke took a deep breath. Wearing a pair of moss-green cotton pajamas, her rich red hair hanging loosely down her back, Callie sat in the rocker, Seamus cuddled in her lap. All Burke could see was the outline of the child’s chubby little body and the back of his head. Seamus had curly hair, as black as his, which was unusual for a child that age, but a definite Lonigan trait. For the briefest of moments, Burke’s gut tightened. An errant thought drifted through his mind. Under different circumstances, this child could have been his.

Seamus whimpered again. Callie lifted him in her arms and laid him across her chest so that his little chin rested on her shoulder. The child’s eyelids drooped and his rosebud mouth rounded in a yawn. Then Seamus saw Burke, and his eyes widened. Blue eyes. Bright, clear, deep blue eyes, identical to his own, stared at Burke. A tight fist of apprehension grabbed Burke by the throat as he studied the lad’s features. No! It wasn’t possible!

Burke stepped back into Callie’s bedroom. He gulped in a large breath and shook his head. He was imagining things. He’d only thought that Callie’s child was a carbon copy of himself at that age. Ridiculous!

You’re tired, he told himself. You didn’t get much rest this past weekend and you’ve missed a great deal of sleep. Your vision is playing tricks on you. Callie’s son can’t resemble you and you know it. Now, go back in there and look at the child again. You’ll see that he doesn’t look a damn thing like you.

Burke hovered in the doorway, his gaze riveted to the child’s face. Seamus stared at Burke for several seconds, then his lips curved into a big smile. Feeling as if he’d had the wind knocked out of him, Burke grabbed the doorjamb to steady himself and noticed that his hand was shaking.

“Dada,” Seamus said, and held out a little hand toward Burke.

This can’t be happening, Burke thought. I’m asleep, having a nightmare and I’ll awaken soon. But this was no dream. This was reality. Callie’s son was his spitting image. And the child had just called him dada.

With her back to Burke, Callie couldn’t see him, but surely she knew he was in the room. Hadn’t she heard Seamus speak to him? As his mind tried to assimilate a thousand and one thoughts, Burke found his hand lifting and reaching out to the child.

“No, precious love, Dada isn’t—” Callie glanced over her shoulder and gasped when she saw Burke. Holding Seamus in place, she jumped to her feet and made certain the boy’s face was hidden from Burke. “I didn’t hear you come in. Did Seamus disturb you? He’s teething and a bit fretful tonight.”

Did Seamus disturb you? Did Seamus disturb you? My God, he wanted to yell at her, wanted to ask her if she were blind, to demand to know how she, Callie Severin, had gotten her hands on a child that he, Burke Lonigan, had obviously fathered. But how was that possible? He never had unprotected sex. Never!

Yes, you have, his conscience reminded him. Saturday night with Callie at the villa. And two years ago with your mystery lady.

That was it! Seamus’s mother must be his mystery lady, the woman whose faceless image had haunted him since the night they’d made love, here in this very house. But if Seamus belonged to his mystery lady, then how was it that Callie had become his mother?

“Is he yours?” Burke demanded.

“What?” Callie’s eyes grew large and round.

Burke took a tentative step in her direction and she, just as hesitantly, backed away from him. “Seamus is…my God, woman, you must see the resemblance.”

“Yes, I…of course, I see the resemblance. And I can explain, if you’ll—”

“He’s mine!” Burke said. “That’s the only possible explanation.”

This was the inevitable moment that Callie had been dreading. The moment when Burke would get a good look at Seamus and realize the boy was his. She should have told him. Now it would be so much more difficult to explain.

“Yes, he’s yours.” She couldn’t deny the truth that was staring them both in the face. Seamus had turned in her arms and glanced from one tense adult to the other.

“How? When? Who’s his mother? His real mother?” Burke asked.

“Oh.” Callie hadn’t counted on that question.

“I had a brief, er, association with a young woman a couple of years ago. I don’t remember her name, but…”

“She never told you her name,” Callie said.

“She didn’t?”

“No, she didn’t.”

“And how would you know?” Burke asked. “Did she tell you all the intimate details of our night together?”

“No one told me anything.” The confused look on Burke’s face explained all she needed to know. “You don’t remember anything about her, do you? You honestly don’t have a clue as to who she is.”

“I remember everything about that night,” Burke insisted. “I remember everything about her.” She was kind and understanding and loving. And sexy, Burke thought. So very sexy.

“You remember everything except what she looked like.”

Burke’s expression confirmed the truth of her statement. She realized that he truly didn’t remember, that he had no idea she was the woman to whom he’d made love that night.

Burke moved closer. Callie stood her ground, her chin tilted defiantly upward, her arms holding Seamus possessively. When Burke reached out and touched the child’s head, Seamus grinned broadly and said, “Dada.”

“He’s at the age when he calls all men dada,” Callie explained.

“Only in my case, he’s got it right.” Burke held out his arms and Seamus went to him immediately. “He’s a friendly lad, isn’t it?”

“Yes, quite friendly.” Callie thought her heart would break into a million pieces as she watched father and son together, the boy a miniature of the man. “Burke, about Seamus’s mother—”

“Is she a friend of yours? Or another cousin? Is that why you and Enid took the boy and you’re raising him as yours, because he’s family?”

“He is family. He’s my child.”

“Were you concerned that I’d take him from you?” Burke asked, as if he hadn’t heard her declaration of motherhood. “Is that why you’ve kept him hidden from me?”

“You can’t take him from me because he’s my child. Do you hear me, Burke? I am Seamus’s mother. I carried him in my body for nine months and gave birth to him.”

Burke glared at her as if she were speaking a foreign language that he didn’t understand. “You can’t be. You and I never met before you came to work at—my God! Are you telling me that you’re the woman from that night? It isn’t possible. I would have recognized you the moment we met again.”

“I wondered about that. But when I applied for the position as your PA and you interviewed me and didn’t seem to recognize me, I assumed either you didn’t remember that night or preferred to pretend it hadn’t happened.”

Burke studied her face for an endless moment, as if trying desperately to remember her. Then when it became apparent that the identity of the woman from that night remained a mystery to him, he turned his attention on Seamus, caressing the child’s cheek and surveying him from head to toe.

“If you’re his mother…the woman from that night…why didn’t you come to me and tell me that you were pregnant with my child? Why keep him a secret from me?”

Burke sat in the rocker and placed Seamus in his lap. Father and son inspected each other thoroughly, and all the while both of them smiled. When Seamus called Burke dada again, Burke’s smiled widened.

“I didn’t feel that I had the right to come to you. You’d been drinking rather heavily that night—”

“I was completely plastered at first, but—”

“I had been sober from beginning to end. Any fault was mine. I’m the one who should have said no and didn’t. I knew you were a wealthy man. I thought you’d assume I’d trapped you because of your money. And of course, there’s the fact that you have a reputation…that is, there were rumors about your being not only a womanizer, but an illegal arms dealer.”

“I see. So why come to me for a position with Lonigan’s? Why, after Seamus was over a year old, did you seek me out?” Burke opened Seamus’s hand atop his. Small resting on large. The shape the same. Long, broad fingers. Wide hands. Thick wrists.

“I knew that someday Seamus would ask me about his father. I thought the best way to get to know you was by working for you. That way I could decide for myself if you were the type of man worthy of being Seamus’s father.”

“And naturally, you discovered that the rumors were true. That I have a dark secret life that makes me unworthy of being your son’s father. Isn’t that right?”

Seamus looked puzzled when Burke’s voice grew louder and harsher. His forehead wrinkled. His bottom lip trembled. Callie swept her son out of Burke’s lap and into her arms.

“You’ve frightened him!” She said the words under her breath.

“Sorry.” Burke chucked Seamus playfully, and a tentative smile began at the edges of the little boy’s mouth. “I’m your father, Seamus. Your da.”

“Dada,” Seamus said, as if on cue, then looked at Callie and said, “Mama.”

“He’s quite bright, isn’t he?” When Burke reached out to touch Seamus, Callie sidestepped his outstretched hand. “Am I not allowed to touch my own child?”

“Please…” Callie’s misty eyes sought understanding.

“You’re right. This isn’t something we need to discuss in front of Seamus and upset him.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me for anything, Callie,” Burke warned her. “I’m controlling my rage for my son’s sake, not yours.”

“I appreciate it all the same,” Callie said. “And I know that I owe you a complete explanation and I’ll—”

“As soon as you’ve gotten him back to sleep, come downstairs. I’ll be waiting for you in the library.”

Callie nodded, then sat and began to rock and hum. Burke lingered in the room for a couple of minutes, watching mother and child. His mind reeled with confusion. His emotions shattered into utter chaos. Because of his illegitimate birth and precarious relationship with his father, he had always been very careful to see that history did not repeat itself. Only twice had he let passion overrule his common sense. Once recently with Callie. And two years ago with—with Callie!

Was it possible? Was Callie truly his mystery woman? If so, it made sense, didn’t it? After all, she proclaimed herself to be Seamus’s mother. And from the moment Callie had walked into his office two and a half months ago, he’d felt a connection to her.

After taking one last look at his wife and his son, Burke turned and left them alone.

Callie heard his footsteps as he walked into the hall and the sound of the door as he closed it ever so softly. She let out the breath she’d been holding and felt an ache deep in her soul. A guilt she couldn’t quite control rose to the surface, and her conscience chastised her for having kept Seamus’s existence a secret from his father. She’d seen the amazement, the wonder, the joy in Burke’s eyes. And she’d seen the hurt, too. A hurt that she had caused. She hadn’t lied to him. Not outright. But she had lied by omission.

No matter what sort of man Burke Lonigan was, he had fathered her child. Nothing could change that fact. And there was no turning back the clock, no retreating into the past when her son’s paternity had been a secret shared only by Enid and her. Now that Burke knew the truth, she would have no choice but to deal with the repercussions. She shuddered at the thought of having to face Burke Lonigan’s wrath.

Burke poured himself a glass of whiskey, but limited himself to one. When he spoke to Callie, he intended to be sober. Unlike that night. Focusing his thoughts on the evening he’d drowned his sorrows at the Princess Inn, Burke struggled to remember the woman’s face, the color of her hair, the shape of her body. Think! Think, dammit, man, think! But he had thought. For weeks. For months. For two years! Why had he been unable to put an identity to this person? What was his mind so afraid of remembering? He could remember her scent, her voice and even the feel of her, but not her features. Her voice! Soft and sultry. Callie’s voice? Her scent had been flowery sweet. Perfume? Not the same scent Callie wore, but then women often changed perfumes, didn’t they? What about the way she’d felt in his arms? As if she belonged there. Exactly the way Callie had felt during their brief honeymoon. Their bodies had been a perfect fit. Two days ago and two years ago!

Why, dammit, why couldn’t he remember?

For some reason, he wouldn’t allow himself to recall with clarity either her features or the reason his subconscious feared to confront the truth. What the hell had happened that night other than the fact they’d made love?

Burke knew the moment she entered the room, but he didn’t glance her way or acknowledge her presence. He set his empty glass on a side table and moved toward the lone floor-to-ceiling Palladian window in the library.

“Seamus is asleep,” Callie said.

“You know that I can have a DNA test done, don’t you?” Burke stood with his back to her.

“Yes, I’m well aware that a DNA test could prove paternity. And if you’d like to—”

“I’d like to have known from the beginning that I had a child.”

“I thought I’d explained why I—”

“I’ve missed nearly fifteen months of my son’s life.” Burke stood rigid and unmoving, his broad shoulders tense. “If you’d come to me when you discovered you were pregnant, I would have taken care of you. There was no reason for you not to have told me.”

“There were several very good reasons,” Callie said, halting a few feet behind him. “We were strangers. I had no way of knowing if you’d even remember me. And if you had, you might have thought the child wasn’t yours.”

“Feeble excuses, Callie, and we both know it.”

“Perhaps, but true nonetheless.”

Callie moved closer, easing to his side and glancing through the window at the dark garden at the back of the house. Wind swayed the trees. Branches scraped the outside wall. Moonlight shimmered across the barren flower beds and the stone walkway.

“Can you prove to me that you’re the woman…” Burke cleared his throat. “The woman who spent the night with me, here in this house, two years ago?”

“A DNA test will prove that Seamus is—”

“It can prove that he is our child.” Burke continued staring sightlessly out the window. “But it cannot prove that you’re the woman from that night, can it?”

“Where else would we have been together, except here, that night?”

“Where indeed.” He turned slowly and faced her. “What do you remember about that night?”

“Everything,” she replied.

“You were very…kind.”

“So were you.”

“I was?”

“Yes. You see, you weren’t the only one in pain, the only one with a broken heart.”

“You thought my heart was broken?” he asked, a mocking smile on his lips. “You misjudged me.”

“No, I didn’t. Your heart was broken. Your father had died while you were out of the country.” Callie took a deep breath. “He…Seamus Malcolm had called for you on his deathbed, but his legitimate children hadn’t contacted you. When you returned, they would have nothing to do with you, but the maid…the maid told you what had happened.”

“I let the situation bother me too much,” Burke said. “I shouldn’t have gotten drunk, but…why was your heart broken?”

“My fiancé had just told me that he’d been having an affair with another woman and that he intended to marry her. To complicate matters, we worked together, so I quit my job on the spot.”

“Ah, yes, I vaguely remember her saying something about a fiancé who had betrayed her.”

I’ve never been with a real man. Only with one very self-centered boy who didn’t know the first thing about pleasuring me. He heard her voice—Callie’s voice—echoing inside his head. Memories. She had told him about her one and only lover. And he remembered feeling very satisfied that he’d been the first man to give her sexual pleasure.

“I’d never known that sex could be so…so incredible,” Callie said. “It had never been that way. I slipped away early the next morning while you were still sleeping. I felt ashamed that I’d had sex with a stranger.”

“How did you feel when you realized you were pregnant?”

“Scared,” she admitted. “I don’t know how I would have made it without Enid. She’s like a sister to me and an aunt to Seamus.”

Burke was torn between wanting to pull Callie into his arms and wanting to shake her until her teeth rattled. Despite what she’d done—denied him his son—he still wanted her. She had woven some sort of magic spell around him that long-ago night, and he remained under its influence even now. But how could he trust a woman who had kept such an important truth from him?

“This changes everything,” he said.

“What—what does it change?”

“My life. Your life. Seamus’s life. Our marriage.”

“Our marriage?”

“We should have been married before Seamus was born, but at least we’ve rectified that now. I’ll want my name listed on Seamus’s birth certificate as his father. I will contact my solicitor first thing—” he glanced at his watch “—in a few hours. And my will must be altered.”

“Aren’t you rushing things?” Callie laid her hand on his arm.

He glared at her hand, then jerked his arm away. “I’m making up for lost time. A great deal of lost time.”

“I realize that you’ll want to be a part of Seamus’s life, that you’ll want visitation rights after the divorce and—”

Burke grabbed her shoulders and stopped himself just short of shaking her. “Apparently you didn’t understand. There will be no divorce. You and I are going to stay married.”

“What?”

“We have a child together. My son will not be denied his birthright the way I was. I won’t be a part-time father.” He released his hold on her and turned to walk across the room.

“You want us to stay married because of Seamus, not because you and I…not because we love each other?”

“Love? What the hell do you know about love?” He turned and glared at her. “Don’t try to tell me that you’re in love with me because I won’t buy it. If you’d loved me, you would never have kept my son from me.”

I might not have loved you then, her heart cried. But I love you now. I don’t want to love you, but I do.

“Do you honestly think I can stay married to you? The secret life you lead has already put Seamus and me in danger once. If it happened once, it could happen again. I don’t want my son to know that his father is an arms dealer. A criminal. And sooner or later, he’d find out the truth. As much as I—” she caught herself before confessing her love for him “—I understand how you feel, you must know I can’t allow you to claim Seamus as your son and put his life at risk. You can see him, of course, and be a part of his life, but not…not as his father. Not as long as you continue—”

“My son will never be in danger. I can provide him with a dozen bodyguards, if necessary!” Burke’s eyes glimmered like frosty blue diamonds. His cheeks flushed with rage.

“Listen to yourself. Do you hear what you’re saying? Is that the life you want for Seamus? For him to be constantly surrounded by bodyguards?”

Damn! Her accusations hit their intended mark. His conscience.

He didn’t live the type of life suitable to fatherhood. Even though he wasn’t an arms dealer, posing as one did indeed put anyone he cared about in danger. And how could he blame Callie for not wanting such a man to be a father to her son? If only he could explain that he was a SPEAR agent—one of the good guys, out to protect the world from evil.

But he was sworn to secrecy. Only Jonah had the power to give him permission to reveal the truth about who and what he was.

“We will postpone making any changes in Seamus’s birth certificate,” Burke agreed. “But hear this—I will claim my son. And if you want to remain a part of Seamus’s life, then you will stay married to me. If you choose to divorce me, then I’ll use whatever legal means necessary to gain full custody of my son.”

Callie gasped, shocked by the callousness of his words. Was that simply the anger speaking, or did he mean what he’d said?

“You wouldn’t take Seamus from me.” Tears gathered in her eyes. “He’s my life.”

Burke’s expression didn’t soften when he spoke, but his voice did, ever so slightly. “If it means getting out of the arms trade in order to give my son the kind of life he deserves, then that’s what I’ll do. I’m willing to make sacrifices for Seamus. Are you?”

“You’d be willing to… Oh, Burke, would you actually get out of the illegal arms trade for Seamus’s sake?”

“Yes.” Burke intended to speak to Jonah as soon a possible. He had given SPEAR the best years of his life. He was forty-two and a father. He wondered what Jonah would say when he told his superior that he wanted out—and soon! “What about you, Callie? Would you be willing to continue on as my wife because it would be the best thing for Seamus, to have his parents together?”

“The best thing for Seamus would be to have two parents who loved each other and were devoted to their marriage and their family.”

“Well, we can’t have everything, can we?”

“No, I suppose we can’t.”