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feeling.
    “Because you obviously need to talk. Did that phone call have anything do with your brother?”
    “How…” She gasped at his perception.
    “It terrified you. You only react like that when Nick’s hurt.”
    Her nod was jerky. “It was Nick’s father, Lance.”
    “Your father?”
    Her blood seemed to turn ice-cold. Taking a deep breath, she told Jackson the reason why Lance cared nothing if he destroyed her. “He’s not my father.”
    Jackson looked down at the flat sound of Taylor’s voice. “What?” The urge to wrap her up in his arms and press her against his chest was almost irresistible. He fought the urge because he needed to see her face.
    “My mother, Helena, was pregnant by another man when she married Lance.” She stared fixedly at the dark square of the bedroom doorway. “My biological father was already married. He didn’t want his mistress after she became pregnant and refused to get rid of me. She was destitute.”
    “That wasn’t your fault.” He was shocked at the self-recrimination in her tone.
    “Lance never let her forget,” she continued. “Almost every week, he’d say something to remind her that I wasn’t his, thathe’d taken her in when she was ‘knocked up.’ He didn’t even give me his name.”
    Jackson felt his hands curl into fists but forced himself to remain silent, aware that she needed to talk. It humbled him that she trusted him enough to share something so painful. He’d had no choice when his secrets had been ripped from him and used to sell newspapers, but he knew just how much courage it took to deliberately entrust another person with such private pain.
    “And she never stopped reminding me that it was because of me that she was stuck with a man who beat her when he was bored, and…and used her.” Her slim shoulder shifted as she took a deep breath that hitched. “While I was growing up, Lance used to disappear without explanation for weeks, and then return like nothing had happened.
    “My mother used to wait for him, as if he’d come back and rescue us from poverty. Then one time, he didn’t come back. They divorced when Nick was barely two.” She stopped speaking, staring down at her hands.
    Jackson wanted to strangle her parents. Instead, he gave in to the urge to touch her and closed one of his hands over hers, not certain that she’d tolerate any further contact while mired in the past.
    Her eyes were confused when she finally turned to look at him. “Why did she love him for such a long time? Why did she? We both knew he had other women. Was she that grateful that he took her in when she was pregnant?”
    Jackson could imagine her mother’s befuddlement at this child of hers who was so without deceit, a child who wouldn’t allow her to forget grim reality in useless illusions. “She sounds like a woman who lost her way.”
    “Yes.” Poignant sadness colored that acknowledgement.
    “Where does Nick’s father fit in?”
    Fear clouded her gaze. “Lance didn’t return for him afterour mother died. Even before her death, I was the one who took care of Nick. But now he’s back.”
    Encouraged by her lack of resistance to their linked fingers, he reached out with his free hand and stroked her hair off her face, shifting his body closer to hers at the same time. “What exactly does he want?”
    “Nick.” Pain devastated the pure blue of her eyes to a dull shade. “I’ll fight him ’til I have nothing left, but I’m afraid. He’s Nick’s father. I’m only his half sister.” She leaned just a little into his stroking hand.
    He was pleased that she saw him as a source of strength. “You’ve raised him.”
    “You don’t understand. Lance isn’t some riffraff—he’s rich. He always was, though he never gave us a cent. I suppose he married my mother because she was so very beautiful and he wanted her. But, then, he threw her away. He didn’t care about Nick then.” Desperation was apparent in her too-fast speech.
    “He