Harlequin Romance February 2016 Box Set

by Barbara Wallace

  ‘But you told me before that you were only twenty-two.’

  ‘That didn’t matter.’ He had been so full of dreams and ambitions that didn’t involve a stroppy teenager. But he’d loved Orla, they’d had only one another, and he had given everything to trying to sort her out. Not that it had worked.

  ‘Of course it mattered. How many twenty-two-year-olds are equipped to parent a teenager? It was a huge responsibility to take on.’

  ‘What other choice did I have?’

  She gave him a sympathetic look. ‘I know. But don’t downplay what you had to face. It was huge. Most people that age would have struggled. Many wouldn’t have taken it on.’ She paused for a minute, and then said in a quiet voice, ‘It must have been a really difficult time for you both.’

  ‘Yes, it was. I was getting pressure from her school. Work was crazy. I had to travel, so I employed a housekeeper—in truth she was a trained nanny, but I couldn’t tell Orla that. She, too, constantly struggled with Orla. I used to come home from travelling, exhausted, to a sister who used to yell at me that she hated me. That I wasn’t her dad and I should stop trying to act like it.’

  ‘What did you argue about?’

  ‘Everything. Her clothes, her going out, her curfew, the housekeeper... But the biggest thing was her refusal to go to school.’

  ‘Did you consider moving her to a different school? Maybe she wasn’t happy there?’

  ‘After the fight I’d had to get her into that school there was no way I was moving her. It was the best school in Dublin. And she wouldn’t even give it a chance. I told her she had to give it a year, but she wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘What do you mean, it was the best school in Dublin?’

  ‘It was consistently in the top three for academic results in the entire country.’

  ‘Was Orla academic? Are you certain the school suited her?’

  He looked skywards. ‘She would have been academic if she had applied herself. Instead she spent her days stockpiling make-up and texting on her phone. In the end I even moved us to a different part of the city, where she didn’t have as many distractions. I confiscated her phone and stopped her allowance, but she still fought me all the way.’

  ‘Maybe you should have given her some say in what school she went to. Included her in the decision-making. She had lost her dad, moved away from her friends...my guess is she was feeling pretty confused. Did you both talk through all that?’

  ‘I was up to my eyes with work. And any time we spoke she ended up storming off, refusing to speak to me.’

  ‘When I was that age most sixteen-year-olds I knew were pretty good at looking after themselves and knowing what they needed.’

  She paused and rubbed her hands up and down the soft cream wool material of her trousers before giving him a tentative smile.

  ‘I know this is easy for me to say, standing on the outside... Heaven knows, I’m only too aware how easy it is to get caught up in the messy dynamics of a relationship...how acute the hurt can be when it’s someone we really care about... It can be hard to think objectively, to understand where we went wrong, how we could do things differently in the future.’

  Again she paused, and gave him an apologetic smile, as though to forewarn him that he wasn’t going to like what she was about to say.

  She inhaled a deep breath. ‘But maybe you should have allowed her to make some of the decisions herself...or made a joint decision. Not you deciding everything, controlling everything.’

  His spine arched defensively at her words. ‘I had to protect her.’

  ‘Maybe she needed her big brother more than she needed a father figure... She was grieving for her dad. She would probably have resisted anyone who tried taking his place. I know I would.’

  Some of what she’d said was starting to make him feel really uncomfortable. He hated remembering that time—how he’d floundered, the frustration of knowing he was losing Orla day by day.

  As much to her as himself, he said, ‘So it was all my fault?’

  She moved to the edge of the sofa. ‘No. Not at all. You were worried about her, and understandably wanted to do right by her. Protect her. But maybe you should have stopped and tried to understand what she needed, rather than what you thought she needed.’

  ‘Well, she has made it pretty clear that now she needs me out of her life. Two years ago she left for Madrid, and now she rarely answers my calls. Before our dad died we were so close—she used to tell me everything. Now we have nothing.’

  ‘Maybe the baby will bring you both closer?’

  He gave a sharp laugh. ‘I don’t think so. She was over five months pregnant before I found out. And that was only because I flew over to see her. She admitted she hadn’t planned on telling me. And she wouldn’t tell me who the father is.’

  ‘Why is that of any importance?’

  She had to be kidding. ‘Because he left her—the coward. And I would like to have a word with him and set him straight on parental responsibility.’

  At that she smiled, and then her smile broke into laughter. He watched her, bewildered. And then he got it. He sounded like an old-fashioned controlling father.

  He rolled his eyes. ‘Next thing I’ll be marching them both up the aisle, a shotgun in my arms.’

  This only made her laugh even more. It lifted the whole mood in the room and gave him a little perspective.

  ‘Okay, tracking down the father isn’t going to be on my list of priorities.’

  ‘Glad to hear it.’ Her head tilted and she gave him a small smile. ‘I really admire how you took on the responsibility of caring for Orla. You did your best in very difficult circumstances. My take on it, for what it’s worth, is that if you stop pushing she’ll come back to you. We all need and want family support. It’s not something we naturally walk away from. And now that Orla is having a baby she needs your support more than ever before.’

  He had to admire her optimism. ‘I think things are too fractured for that.’

  ‘You were the one who said you admired me for restarting my business. How about you try to restart your relationship with Orla? Think about what you would do differently so that you can have a better relationship with her.’

  She made it sound so simple. ‘I don’t know... I don’t want to upset her at this late stage of her pregnancy.’

  ‘I understand that, but she needs you.’

  ‘Orla wouldn’t agree with you, I’m afraid.’

  Even he heard the exhaustion in his own voice. He stared up at the ceiling. His little sister...pregnant. He just couldn’t get his head around it. How would their dad have reacted? He would have worried, but supported Orla one hundred per cent. His dad had had unconditional love down to an art form.

  Across from him, Aideen sighed. ‘Patrick, I really think you need to cut yourself some slack. You were only in your early twenties. You were running several rapidly expanding multimillion-pound businesses and trying to parent a teenage girl. You did your best. Sure, you made mistakes. Haven’t we all? But, as you’ve said to me, that’s in the past. Focus on the future now. You have to think about the next generation in your family. Your nephew or niece will need you. Orla’s baby deserves to have you in its life.’

  His gut tightened. She was right. But what if he caused Orla more upset? What if they had yet another bitter argument? He would never forgive himself if something happened to her or the baby because of him.

  He picked up the chest, the material smooth against his skin. ‘I would like to keep this, if that’s okay with you. Hopefully some day I’ll get the chance to give it to Orla and her baby. It’s beautifully made.’

  He genuinely looked as though he loved the chest, and Aideen prayed that a time would come when he could give it to Orla. She could see how much the rift was hurting him.

  ‘Were the arguments with Orla one of the reasons why you moved to Ashbrooke?’

  ‘Partially... And in truth they prompted my move here to the chateau, as well. I love both h
ouses, and I’m proud of the restoration I’ve carried out at Ashbrooke. It would have been terrible to see it fall into further decay when it’s of such historic importance. At the same time, I did need to retreat and focus on my businesses. They were growing at a rate even I hadn’t anticipated. But I also needed some head space after years of arguing with Orla. My apartments both in Dublin and in Paris held too many memories. Orla moved to Paris and lived in my apartment when she was expelled from school. It was pretty tense, to say the least—especially when I arrived to find she had moved two friends in with her.’

  ‘You didn’t tell me that she was expelled.’

  ‘Amongst other things. She came to Paris to attend a language school, but she dropped out of there, too. She said she’d learn French faster working in a bar.’

  She didn’t understand why he sounded so exasperated. ‘But that was good—she was taking on responsibility for herself and learning to be independent.’

  ‘You didn’t see the bar she was working in.’

  ‘Am I right in guessing you didn’t allow her to keep working there?’

  ‘Too right. She was on the first plane back to Ireland.’

  ‘How old was she?’

  ‘Eighteen.’

  She inhaled a deep breath. ‘Were there any other options other than sending her home? She was an adult, after all.’

  ‘She certainly wasn’t acting like an adult.’

  ‘Did sending her back to Ireland work? Did it help your relationship?’

  He glanced at her briefly and then looked away. ‘No.’

  ‘Would you do anything differently if you had that time again?’

  He looked thrown by her question. For a good few minutes they sat in silence, his gaze trained on a spot in the far distance.

  ‘I would do a lot of things differently.’

  His thumb travelled again over the silk of the chest, and when he looked up she realised the pale blue of the material was a close match to the colour of his eyes.

  He held her gaze and said, ‘You’re the first person I’ve ever told any of this to.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Exactly that. I never told anyone about the problems we were having.’

  ‘Not the school or your friends?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You mean you carried all of this on your own?’

  ‘Orla and I only had one another. It didn’t seem right to tell anyone else what was happening. It was private—between the two of us. Family problems should stay within the walls of a home.’

  ‘But not something as big as this, Patrick. Not when you’re on your own, with no one to ask for advice or just talk it through with. It must have been so tough for you.’

  Bittersweet sadness caught in her chest. She was honoured and moved that he had told her. But she also felt a heavy sadness that he had been burdened with this for so long.

  ‘You shouldn’t have carried it on your own.’

  A solemn, serious gaze met hers. ‘I could level the same accusation at you.’

  Emotion took a firm grip of her throat. ‘You’re right... It’s hard to speak when you’re hurting, when you’re embarrassed and loaded down with guilt.’

  ‘I’m glad I did tell you.’ A smile played at the corner of his mouth and he added, ‘I never thought I would say this, but it’s actually a relief to talk about it.’

  It felt so good to see him smile. ‘I’m glad, too.’

  He considered her for a while, and her cheeks began to flame at the way his eyes darkened. An emotional connection pinged between them and her heart slowed to a solid throb.

  In a low voice he said, ‘I’ve been thinking over what you said about having more fun, and I’ve lined up a surprise for you tomorrow.’

  Her heart began to race again, and to cover the wide smile of excitement that threatened to break on her mouth at any second she eyed him suspiciously. ‘I hope it’s not a triathlon, or something crazy like that.’

  He shook his head with amusement, ‘No, but I reckon you’d be pretty lethal in a triathlon—if the competitive way you play tennis is anything to go by.’

  ‘You might be right, but I’m not the best of swimmers.’

  ‘Really? You can’t live by the sea and not be able to swim! When we get back to Ashbrooke I’ll give you some lessons in the lough.’

  Was he serious? He seemed to be. Mixed emotions assailed her at once, and a crazy excitement to know that he would want to do something like that. That there might be some type of future for them beyond Paris.

  But what if she was wrong? Was she reading way too much into this? Was she crazy to believe and trust in a man enough to even contemplate the possibility of some type of future with him?

  Her doubts and fears won out and she dismissed his suggestion with a laugh, praying it would mask the embarrassing frozen expression of hope on her face. ‘Only if I can wear a wetsuit. The water is pretty cold in the lough.’

  ‘Wimp!’

  ‘I am not. Anyway, I have meetings tomorrow until four. Can the surprise wait until then?’

  ‘Perfect. I’ll collect you.’

  She stood up and said happily, ‘It’s a date. Now I’m going to bed.’

  Only as she went to walk away did she realise what she had said.

  ‘Not that it’s really a date or anything like that... You know what I mean.’

  He, too, stood, and looked at her fondly, laughter in his eyes. ‘Aideen...relax. And I would like it to be a date.’

  ‘Would you?’

  He pinned her with his gaze. ‘Yes.’

  His answer was such a low, sexy drawl that goosebumps popped up on her skin. She gave him a skittish grin and before she embarrassed herself any further decided to make a hasty retreat. But not before she threw him another goofy smile.

  As she walked out of the room she heard him say in the same sexy tone, ‘Goodnight, Aideen. Sleep well.’

  A delicious, deep shiver of anticipation ran the length of her body.

  CHAPTER NINE

  THE FOLLOWING EVENING at Issy-les-Moulineaux heliport, close to the Eiffel Tower, a helicopter stood awaiting their arrival.

  As Bernard brought the car to a halt beside the impressive machine excitement bubbled in Aideen’s veins. ‘Where are we going?’

  Patrick considered her mischievously as he contemplated her question. ‘Now, if I told you that it wouldn’t be much of a surprise, would it?’

  ‘The helicopter is enough of a surprise for me... Oh, please tell me! I hate being kept in suspense.’

  ‘No can do, I’m afraid. The good things in life come to those who wait.’

  Bernard was waiting patiently at the door for her to exit, so she stepped out of the car. When Patrick joined her and they walked towards the helicopter she asked playfully, ‘So is that your philosophy on life?’

  He brought them both to a stop and stepped closer. He leant down. His breath was warm against her ear when he spoke and her heart did a triple flip.

  ‘Sometimes the anticipation and the wait can be thrilling, don’t you agree?’

  Heat erupted in her body and she drew back to meet his eyes, which blistered into hers. When she finally managed to speak it was in an embarrassingly squeaky voice. ‘I guess...’

  His gaze changed to a look of amusement and, taking her hand in his, he led her to the helicopter, where the pilot was waiting for them with the rear door open.

  As the pilot made the final checks for take-off her mind raced. Was he confirming what she suspected...that he would like more with her? She had read signals so wrongly in the past. Was she getting this wrong, too? But the way he looked at her said she wasn’t getting anything wrong. He looked at her as though he would like to bed her then and there.

  For the entire forty-five-minute journey they played a game of ‘yes and no’ in which she tried to guess their destination. She was wrong on every count, and was rapidly running out of names. It was a good job she had listened in her geography less
ons in school.

  But when a baroque castle appeared in the distance, with its raked roof and tall chimney stacks, she whispered, ‘Oh, my...it’s Château de Chalant.’

  Privately owned by the Forbin family, Château de Chalant was considered one of the most beautiful castles in France. It was never open to the public.

  ‘What are we doing here?’

  ‘Frédéric Forbin is a friend and business associate. I called him and arranged for us to visit the chateau.’

  Flabbergasted, she could only stare at him, and then down at the manicured elegant grounds as the helicopter swept towards the chateau. As the helicopter landed, she saw a man waiting for them at the bottom of the steps leading up to a terrace that then led to double wooden front door.

  ‘Is that Frédéric?’

  ‘No, it’s the chateau director, who is expecting us. Frédéric is away travelling. The chateau is of such historical and architectural importance Frédéric employs a conservation team, headed by the director.’

  As they exited the helicopter she tried to dampen down the enthusiasm fizzing in her blood. She had studied the historic textiles of Château de Chalant while at university. Now she was going to see them first-hand! She wanted to babble with excitement, but forced herself to shake the director’s hand calmly.

  Then both men shook hands.

  ‘Monsieur Fitzsimon, it is a pleasure to have you back at Château de Chalant. It’s been a long time.’

  ‘Good to see you, too, Edouard.’

  There was a slight catch to his voice, but despite that Patrick looked totally at ease and in no way fazed, as she was by the grandeur of the chateau. Once again she was struck by how different his life was from hers—how used he was to mixing in the world of wealth and power.

  Edouard led them into the vast entrance hall of the chateau, where two sweeping marble stone staircases, one at either side, led up to a wooden gallery that encircled the hall. Historic tapestries hung from the walls.

  Unable to help herself, she walked to a sixteenth-century oak chair and exclaimed, ‘Oh, wow! That chair is upholstered in Avalan fabric. I’ve never seen it in real life before; only in textbooks.’