“T.J. Oh, T.J., I am so sorry.”

      The ambulance and Dr. Campbell had been and gone. T.J. lay on the couch, asleep, exhausted from the toll the shock and the crying jag had taken on his system. Rebecca hunched over her son, her back tense and shaking, her anguish palpable. From time to time she stroked T.J. with hands that trembled, as if to assure herself he was alive.

      Rebecca who never cried.

      Coming to a decision, Damon strode to her. Without giving her an opportunity to resist, he swept her into his arms. Crossing to the sofa opposite the one T.J. occupied, he lowered himself, fitting Rebecca into his lap.

      “Dr. Campbell says he’s fine.”

      “I know, but I can’t seem to stop. When I think what might have happened…God!” Her whole body started to shake.

      Holding her, he rocked her. “Don’t think. It achieves nothing.”

      She drew a deep, heaving breath and buried her face in his chest, into the black T-shirt he’d hurriedly shrugged on after Dr. Campbell had checked T.J. out.

      He braced himself for more tears. “Hush, you’ll make yourself ill.”

      No tears came, but the tremors grew worse. “You don’t understand. I nearly lost him.”

      He did understand. How to tell her? He hated the helplessness that swamped him. Nothing he could say, do, would take away her pain. In silent sympathy he tightened his arms around her and said inadequately, “He’ll be fine.”

      She sniffed against his chest. “It’s my fault.”

      “No, it’s mine. I should have thought about that door.” Damon stared bleakly over her head. Last night he’d plotted the seduction of the woman he held in his arms. He’d been so intent on her, on his pleasure, that he’d forgotten about the blasted sliders. After he’d promised Rebecca they would remain locked at all times, he’d let her down. Rebecca’s son had paid for his carelessness.

      Nearly with his life.

      “It should never have happened,” she choked.

      “It won’t happen again.” He went cold as he relived those horrible moments.

      “I mean—” she lifted her woebegone face “—it wouldn’t have happened if I’d been a better mother.”

      The immaculate mask had been torn away. Still clad in her nightie, her hair tangled, her eyes red-rimmed from crying, she had never looked more vulnerable nor more beautiful.

      He brushed his lips across her smooth brow. “Don’t blame yourself. If anyone is at fault, it’s me for assuming that it would be simple to keep the sliders closed—after all, they latch automatically. I know better now. And I know that you couldn’t possibly be a better mother.”

      She hiccupped. “I’m a terrible mother. I’m a total failure as a mother, I always knew I would be. I’ve failed—”

      “Rebecca.” He gave her a shake. “Listen to me! No one can doubt your commitment to T.J. You’re patient, loving. What more could a child want?”

      But instead of calming her, his praise simply made her sob, her dark eyes spilling tears that wrenched his heart.

      “I don’t deserve T.J.”

      “You know, if you’d asked me four years ago what kind of mother I thought you’d be, I would have said appalling. Selfish. But I’ve watched you with T.J. You’ve astounded me. You’ve impressed me. I admire your patience. Even when he’s being downright difficult, you always do the right thing.”

      “I’m not a natural mother.”

      “You could have fooled me.” With a gentle hand, he stroked her hair.

      But the gesture did little to calm her. Instead she only cried harder. “You don’t understand!”

      “Try me.”

      “No. I can’t.” She sat up in his lap, shaking her head wildly so that her long hair whipped around her tear-drenched face. “There are things…things I haven’t told you. Things you should’ve known before we…before we slept together.”

      “Shush. Don’t worry about that now.”

      “I must.” Her teeth were clattering. “Ignoring it won’t make it go away. I’m so scared—”

      He yanked her back against his chest, so close that he could feel her hot breath against his chest. He scanned her uptilted features, concerned about the misery, the guilt he read there. “Stop this. You’ll make yourself ill!”

      Remorse flashed across her face, making her look even more wretched. “And then what good will I be to T.J.?”

      “That can’t be self-pity I hear, is it? Come on, buckle up.”

      She gave him a watery smile. “You mean buck up.”

      He shrugged. “Whatever.”

      Rebecca made a valiant effort to pull herself together. Pulling away, she perched on the edge of his lap and examined him. “Whatever? You’re always so formal I sometimes forget that you only arrived here in New Zealand when you were—what—eight? Nine?”

      “Ten,” he corrected, looking surprised at the change of subject. “My father saw New Zealand as a land of opportunity. When I arrived, neither Savvas nor I could speak any English. Where were you when you were ten, Rebecca?”

      “With the Austins. They were one of the better foster families I stayed with.” But that was when she’d been parted from James. The Austins had two daughters and didn’t want to foster boys. They hadn’t minded taking two girls into care. The other girl had been Fliss. Poor shell-shocked Fliss who had recently lost her parents in a freak boating accident. Separated from James for the first time in her life, Rebecca had shared Fliss’s bewildered sense of loss. It had been natural that the two of them had clung to each other.

      “How many foster homes did you stay in?”

      “Altogether? Four,” she said bleakly.

      He pulled her back into his arms. “You know, T.J. is very fortunate to have you for a mother.”

      “No, I’m the lucky one. It’s easy to love him.” She glanced up at him as she spoke and her eyes were luminous with profound emotion, and for an instant Damon felt a pang of envy at her bond of love with the child. He pushed it aside.

      His voice rough with emotion, he said, “You’re a wonderful mother. I’ve watched you. Never think you’re a failure as a mother.”

      Wonder lit her eyes. “Thank you, Damon. That means a lot to me. More than you could ever know, because my mother abandoned James and me, and we never knew who fathered us.”

      “You’re not your mother. You’ve done wonders. He’s a son to be proud of.” He brushed a kiss across the top of her head. It didn’t matter who her parents were. But it explained her fierce determination to be independent. Every word he’d spoken was true. She had surprised him. At first he’d assumed the mothering thing was all an elaborate act. An empty charade. But slowly he’d seen the depth of her love for T.J., and for some reason the bond between them highlighted the emptiness of his own life. He’d enjoyed the trip to Goat Island, the visit to the zoo. Much to his astonishment, Damon found he wanted to be included in the intimate moments of warmth they shared, to be part of the unbreakable bond.