Kissed a Sad Goodbye

Kit’s favorite people just now.”
    “Neither of us? I know he has reason enough to be angry with me, but why you?”
    Having plunged in, Kincaid had no option but to continue. “I told him I was sure I was his father. Last night, as a matter of fact.”
    “You told him?” McClellan repeated, drawing his brows together. “You cautioned me not to speak to him about it. You said to give him time—”
    “I thought I had. And we were facing making a change in his living arrangements—he can’t stay with the Millers indefinitely.”
    Ian pushed his glasses up on his nose, a signal of agitation Kincaid remembered from their previous meetings. “How did he take it?”
    Kincaid shoved his cold food to one side. “He doesn’t want to believe it. He feels betrayed. And now you’ve come back. Why are you here?”
    “Eugenia’s been sending me threatening letters. I thought you should know.”
    “Threatening what? To spread more misery about in the world?” After Vic’s death, Kincaid’s dealings with his former mother-in-law had been acrimonious in the extreme, and promised no improvement. Kit had run away rather than stay in her care, and Eugenia was not likely to forgive Kincaid his part in making other arrangements for the grandson she considered as property.
    “She’s been a bit vague.” Ian’s smile held little humor. “First it was suing for grandparents’ right to visitation. Lately, she’s been leaning towards accusing me of legal abandonment and suing for custody herself.”
    “Dear God,” Kincaid breathed, horrified at the thought. “I don’t think she has a leg to stand on as far as custody goes, but she might have a case for visitation. I’ve had a word with my solicitor.”
    The few chips Kincaid had eaten might have been lead in his stomach. “Kit ran away the last time he was forced to stay with her—that can’t be allowed to happen again.” Swallowing, he continued, “But there’s no point talking about Eugenia without knowing what exactly you mean to do about Kit.”
    Ian studied his glass as he spoke. “The Grantchester house hasn’t sold. I thought I’d take it off the market for the time being, until I get myself sorted out.”
    “You mean to live there?”
    “For the time being. And I want Kit with me. I’ve a good deal of making up to do.”
    Kincaid pondered this in silence, then said, “You know I’ve no legal say in any arrangements you make for Kit. But if you abandon him again, I swear I’ll do whatever it takes to ensure you never have another chance.”
    Ian met his eyes without flinching. “I want what’s best for Kit, and I think it’s this.”
    “What will you tell him about me?” Kincaid asked, his resentment rising.
    “That it doesn’t matter who his biological father is— he’s still my son.”
    “And where does that leave me, now that you’ve suddenly become the ideal parent?” Kincaid couldn’t keep the bitterness from his voice. He’d spent months trying to repair some of the damage McClellan had done, and now the bastard thought he could come back like the prodigal son.
    “Look, Duncan.” Ian leaned forward, his elbows on the table, and Kincaid realized it was the first time he had used his Christian name. “I’m not trying to shut you out of Kit’s life. He needs both of us—”
    “How would you know what he needs?” Kincaid’s control was dangerously close to breaking.
    “I can’t make amends without starting somewhere, can I? And it doesn’t sound to me as if you’ve any call for making threats or accusations—you’ve made a proper cock-up of things yourself,” Ian added hotly.
    They stared at each other, then Kincaid sat back. He took a deep breath. Getting at cross-purposes with McClellan would benefit no one. “All right. I’ll admit that. But I was here, and I want it understood that I’m not bowing out of Kit’s life now.”
    Ian gave him a crooked smile. “I’d say the question just now is whether he wants much to do with either of us. I’m going up to Cambridge tomorrow. I’ll open the house, then fetch Kit from the Millers.”
    “Give him some time to get used to the idea,” Kincaid countered. “A few days at least. He’s found some security where he is... and he may find going back to the cottage difficult.... You know he won’t leave the dog?”
    “I’ll give him a few days, then,” Ian agreed, then grimaced. “And I suppose I can get used to the dog. Anything is