Ian at first mistook the dwelling for a new tavern and, eager for a drink, swung down from his saddle, but after they had walked through the gate, he realized his mistake. "Wait a minute. I'm not up t
o meeting anyone."
"I promise this will be a brief visit. Come on, we can leave whenever you like."
"I want to leave now."
Graham Tyler was not easily discouraged. "Just a few minutes, Ian. You've got the time."
"I've nothing but time."
"No, you've something more." Graham had succeeded in getting Ian up on the front porch; he rapped lightly at the door. When Charity appeared, he quickly introduced himself as a friend of the Barclays. "This is Christian's father, Captain Ian Scott. May we see the boy?"
"Oh yes, do come in." Charity was delighted to invite the two handsome officers into her home, but when Ian removed his hat, she was startled by his bright red hair. "Forgive me, I didn't mean to stare. I'd assumed Christian resembled you, but now I see he must favor his mother."
Touched by that thought, Ian followed her into the bedroom, where Christian lay sleeping in the cradle. Charity pulled back his blankets slightly, so Ian could see him more clearly. "Would you like to hold him?" she asked. "He's a very good little boy, and spends most of his time sleeping."
Ian bent over the cradle, took one look at the precious infant, and straightened up abruptly. Thinking Charity must be caring for two babies and had confused them, he glanced around the room searching for another cradle but there was only the one. "There must be some mistake. This can't possibly be my child. Who told you that he was?"
Taken aback by his question, Charity grew flustered. "You were Melissa Barclay's husband, weren't you?"
"Yes, now answer me. Who brought you this child?"
"Alanna Barclay and Dr. Earle. I've had him since the day he was born."
"And when was that?"
"November eleventh."
Ian called for Graham, who had waited in the front room. When he entered, Ian pointed toward the cradle. "Do you have any idea whose child this is?"
As astonished by the golden-skinned, dark-haired baby as Ian, Graham shrugged helplessly. "Well, he certainly isn't yours."
"Gentlemen, you're frightening me. Miss Barclay visits the child every day. She was here this morning with her cousin Elliott. Byron has been here, too. None of them seem to think there's anything wrong."
"Oh, there's something wrong, all right," Ian assured her. "Alanna bears a close resemblance to my late wife."
Charity's eyes grew wide, for she had never known a blond woman and a red-haired man to produce an infant whose coloring presented such a stark contrast to them both. "I'm sure there must be some explanation," she mumbled.
"Yes, indeed, and I can't wait to hear it." Ian leaned down, scooped up the baby, and, holding him pressed close to his chest, carried him right out of the house.
"Captain Scott!" Charity called. "Be careful, Christian's not even two weeks old! Where are you taking him?"
Ian replied with a threatening glance that silenced any further objection, deftly mounted his horse, and urged him toward the plantation at a gallop.
Now understanding why Alanna had discouraged him from bringing Ian to see his son, Graham caught up to his friend. He tried to get him to slow down, but Ian was bent low, shielding the babe from the wind, and neither heard nor saw him. Mortified that his friend would so thoughtlessly endanger an infant's life, he stayed close, silently vowing to do whatever he could to save the lad, if need be.
Jostled awake and thoroughly terrified by the wild ride, Christian was screaming with all his might by the time Ian reached his in-laws' home. The outraged Englishman leapt off his horse and strode through the front door, where the whole family swiftly gathered to greet him, drawn by Christian's frantic shrieks. Rather than attempt to quiet the infant, Ian simply raised his voice to be heard above him.
"Whose child is this?" he shouted. "Surely he isn't mine and Melissa's."
As horrified as the dear babe, Alanna rushed forward to take Christian, but Ian held him aloft. "Oh, no, you don't. First you tell me where you got this child, because he sure as hell isn't mine!"
Rachel began to cry in a wail only slightly less pathetic than Christian's, while John stared at the screaming baby in shocked disbelief. Elliott hurried to Alanna's side, while his brother hung back. It was the most disgraceful scene imaginable, but Byron knew he wasn't the one to stop it.
"Ian's laid this one at your door, Father," he said. "If you can face the truth now, it's time you shared it with him."
John Barclay stood transfixed, unable to tear his gaze from the ebony-haired babe Ian now dangled in front of him. The child's face was bright red from the exertions of his screams, but his thick black hair provided clear confirmation of the scandal his grandfather had refused to believe.