He was a father.

“She has spent the past two years living with a man-a psychiatrist who treated her briefly for the amnesia. He has provided a home for both Amira and the child. He cares for the child now.”

Something savage broke loose inside Michal. He wanted to tear this man apart with his bare hands. He wanted to shake the truth from her…make her admit to her treachery.

“She had no memory of you,” Ron reminded him, obviously reading his mind. “She was discovered wandering in a park with no money and no memory at all. This man took her in, cared for her and the child that was born a few months later.” When Michal would have roared against the logic of his words, Ron added, “He did so despite the numerous times she turned down his proposals of marriage.”

Was that supposed to make him feel better? She lived with the man-slept in his bed-but refused to marry him?

“I can’t tell you more for that is all I know,” Ron said wearily, his concerned gaze searching Michal’s face. “But if there is more, I will see what I can uncover. The CIA activity is likely unrelated, but I will verify that, as well.”

Michal had a feeling that he’d only agreed to dig deeper into the situation because of the profound way this meager news had affected him.

He had a son.

A son he had never seen.

“Before you go back to her with anger in your heart,” Ron suggested quietly, “consider how helpless she was. She had nowhere to go, no one to turn to. She did the only thing she could to survive…to protect her child.”

“My child,” Michal argued, an unfamiliar mixture of emotions building inside him. “My son.”

“As true as that is,” Ron reminded him gravely, “what does she do now to protect herself and her child? Has her situation truly changed?”

His friend was right, Michal realized.

Survival would be of great importance to her…she surely wanted to return to her child.

Michal’s child.

AMI WAS STILL damn sore this morning. She took her time dressing, dreading another day of endless worry. How could she betray Michal? Cost him his life? As he’d promised, he’d held her last night, held her close, made her feel safe in spite of all that had happened.

But how would she ever get back to her son?

She twisted her hair up and pinned it out of her way. She couldn’t deal with it this morning. She’d stopped counting the days since she’d held her child. Tried with all the willpower she possessed to block his sweet face from her mind.

It hurt too much.

She closed her eyes and forced back the emotions. Courage was what she needed right now.

Courage and a miracle straight from God.

A little coffee would help her immediate discomfort, she decided with overwhelming resignation.

She peeked into the corridor. Usually when Michal was out of the house, which was rare, she stayed in her room. She’d had more than enough excitement for a dozen lifetimes. If she stayed in her room she was unlikely to see or to hear anything she shouldn’t from any of his men. Especially Carlos.

The great room was empty, which meant Carlos and the men must be outside or in the cellar. She shivered as she considered what they might be down there doing.

If someone had told her one month ago that she would be experiencing all that she had in the past two weeks she would have laughed at them, insisted they were crazy. That she may have lived this sort of life in the past she couldn’t remember was ludicrous. She was not like these people.

Guilt stabbed her for lumping Michal in with the rest of them. Somehow, despite all that she had witnessed in his presence, he was not like the rest of his men. She knew it deep in her heart. The heart he now owned.

She groaned and dragged open the refrigerator door. She had to eat. Though she had no appetite. She had to stay healthy…had to be ready for anything. Nicholas needed her; she had to find her way back home. There had to be a way.

She poured a glass of milk and grabbed a banana from the bowl on the table. Barefoot, she padded into the great room to enjoy the view. It was about the only pleasure she had these days. When the memories of making love with Michal abruptly filtered through her mind, she shivered.

Forcing her attention back to nourishment, she consumed the milk and the banana and decided she should have gotten two. When she would have headed back to the kitchen for another piece of fruit, the sight of a car winding up the long drive jerked her back to the window. It wasn’t the military-style Hummer that Michal used, or any of the other vehicles she had seen on the estate.

Setting her glass and the empty banana peel on a nearby table, she eased back a step out of sight of whoever was approaching. When the car stopped, the driver’s side door opened and a woman wearing an elegant hat-the kind one wore to church on mornings like this-emerged.

Ami frowned, studying her movements as she made her way to the front door. A soft-sided briefcase in hand, she wore a fashionable broomstick skirt in a deep gray and a flattering double-breasted matching jacket. A frilly white collar flounced around the neckline, but the down-turned brim of the tasteful hat partially shielded her face from view. Ami wondered vaguely why Carlos or one of the others hadn’t interceded by now. There were always guards outside monitoring the grounds. Still, the well-dressed lady forged fearlessly ahead, climbing the steps as if she were on a mission of supreme importance.

Two things struck Ami simultaneously. Judging by the briefcase and the woman’s manner of dress, she decided she must be on some sort of religious mission, a door-to-door evangelist maybe. At the same time she wondered if she ran out the door and dragged the woman back into her car, could they make it away from the house before being shot?

The woman’s knock on the door snapped Ami from her fleeting fantasy.

She stood stock-still as the knock came again. No one stormed up the cellar stairs. No one came running into the room from some other part of the house. Nothing.

Anticipation soared through her. This could be her chance. The reminder of what had happened during her last escape attempt had dread, as well as the milk she’d drunk, curdling in her stomach despite the seed of hope sown by the anticipation. She couldn’t just stand there. Ami moistened her lips and summoned her courage. She walked straight over to the door, held her breath and pulled it open. No alarm sounded. She frowned, remembering the security system.

Before she could ponder that oddity further, recognition slammed into her.

Fran Woodard stood on the other side of the threshold, a pleasant smile stretched across her Katharine Hepburn good looks. “Good morning, ma’am,” she said in a strong Southern drawl that startled Ami almost as much as her unexpected appearance. The woman she’d met before had spoken alternately with an authentic French accent and a vague Midwestern twang.

“What’re you doing here?” Ami demanded, glancing quickly around her. Her heart thundered into overdrive, pushing a new blast of adrenaline through her veins and an unholy fear up her spine. Maybe the alarm was silent…most systems had that option, didn’t they? If Carlos or one of the others discovered this woman here-

Fran made a magnanimous gesture with one hand. “Darling, I’m a member of the Texas Christian Ambassador Program and I’m here to save your soul.” She kept that brilliant smile pinned in place as she added under her breath, “Invite me in.”

Ami jerked at the fiercely muttered order. She nodded and quickly stepped back. “Please,” she said, a little too loudly, a little too stiffly, “won’t you come in?”

“Don’t overdo it, honey,” Fran chided softly.

Ami nodded again, the movement spasmodic. “I’m not sure your program is for me.” Her voice quivered just the slightest bit, but she did manage to keep her own smile plastered in place.