Gypsy

by Carole Mortimer

  She had thought of going back to live with her grandfather for some time, and had sadly dismissed the idea. Except for visits, she hadn’t lived in Ireland for over seven years, had lived alone or as Ricky’s wife during that time, and she knew she couldn’t go back, that she had become too independent for that.

  She looked at him pleadingly, wanting him to understand. ‘I can’t, Grandy.’

  The light went out of his eyes as he sighed. ‘I didn’t think so,’ he acknowledged heavily. ‘But I don’t like to think of you alone in London.’

  ‘In that “den of iniquity"?’ she teased.

  He looked uncomfortable. ‘Do you have to remind me I once called it that?’ he grimaced his embarrassment. ‘You were only seventeen; I was worried about you. As it turned out, I had reason to be,’ he added darkly. ‘If I hadn’t encouraged you to leave Ireland you would never have met Lyon Falconer—’

  ‘Or Ricky,’ Shay put in huskily, squeezing his arm reassuringly. ‘And I wouldn’t have missed being his wife for anything.’

  ‘Anything?’ her grandfather prompted gruffly.

  ‘Grandy, the past is over, I have to think of my baby now. And that means moving to London, setting up a home for us both, and getting on with our lives.’

  ‘Then I’ll come down to London and at least help you get settled in,’ he insisted stubbornly.

  ‘Grandy, you hate London,’ Shay mocked.

  ‘I hate the thought of your being alone there more,’ he muttered.

  ‘Oh, Grandy!’ She hugged him. ‘I’ll let you help me set up home and then I insist you go home,’ she smiled. ‘You’re like a wounded bear if you’re away from Ireland too long!’ she teased.

  He gave a rueful smile. ‘I’ll agree to that only because I know you’re right!’

  Lyon didn’t agree, that was obvious when he stormed into her suite later that evening!

  She was already in her nightclothes, the purple of her silk nightgown a perfect match for her eyes, the silken mass of her hair secured back with a ribbon of the same colour. She hadn’t been expecting any more company tonight, hadn’t said good night to Neil very long ago after he came back to offer his congratulations on the baby. She should have known Lyon wouldn’t take the news of her leaving without protest.

  His gaze flickered coldly over the case Patty had begun packing for her earlier in the evening, turning to her coldly. ‘I asked you not to leave,’ he grated.

  Shay met his gaze unflinchingly. ‘And I told you I couldn’t stay here.’

  ‘Because of me?’ His eyes narrowed to tawny slits.

  ‘Yes,’ she answered with brutal honesty, the time when she had been in awe of him long gone.

  ‘Then I’ll leave,’ he stated decisively.

  Her mouth twisted. ‘You think your absence would make any difference?’ she scorned, giving him a pitying look. ‘This house is you, Lyon. Everywhere I look I see you, feel you,’ she added with a shudder of distaste. ‘I couldn’t go through my pregnancy here!’

  A pulse throbbed in Lyon’s rigid cheek, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, the brown shirt he wore moulded to his powerful physique, the brown trousers tailored to the lean length of his legs. ‘You really hate me, don’t you,’ he ground out.

  Shay gave a choking laugh of scorn. ‘How could you ever doubt that?’

  He drew in a harsh breath. ‘I remember a time when you felt very differently about living here with me, when you begged me to—’ He broke off as she paled dramatically. ‘Oh God, I’m sorry,’ he groaned self-disgustedly. ‘I didn’t mean to say that!’ He looked at her concernedly.

  Shay felt like ice, as if someone were squeezing the life out of her. ‘You bastard!’ she finally choked. ‘I’ll admit you once stripped me of my pride.’ The memory was as painful to her as all her other memories of Lyon now were. ‘But I loved you then, believed, in my innocence, that you felt the same way about me.’

  ‘I—’

  ‘Don’t worry, Lyon,’ she told him derisively, ‘you soon pointed out to me that I was just another affair to you, just a little bit of fun that you and Marilyn could laugh about once it was all over and the two of you felt the inclination to temporarily share your marriage bed again!’

  ‘It wasn’t like that—’

  ‘It was exactly like that, Lyon,’ Shay snapped vehemently.

  ‘I don’t know what the hell you’re complaining about,’ Lyon rasped roughly. ‘You were married to my brother within a year! I might have written on all the pages, Shay, but Ricky was the one to read the book from cover to cover!’ he added bitterly.

  Her eyes glazed with an ice that lightened the purple of her eyes, her face looking as if carved from stone; a beautiful statue without emotion or feeling. ‘And he enjoyed every moment of it!’ Shay told him defiantly. ‘You see how it is between us, Lyon.’ Her sigh was weary. ‘We resort to insults over the least little thing.’

  ‘I don’t happen to consider your staying on here a little thing,’ he said tautly.

  ‘Believe me,’ she shook her head, ‘neither do I. For my own peace of mind, and for the sake of the baby, I have to go.’

  ‘You’re so damned stubborn,’ Lyon muttered. ‘What happens if you have an accident of some sort while alone in London?’ he demanded to know.

  ‘Ever heard of telephones?’ she quipped.

  ‘This is serious, Shay.’

  ‘I couldn’t agree more,’ she nodded coldly. ‘But I’m a grown woman, well able to support myself—and my baby, if that was going to be your next argument,’ she added sharply. ‘This baby may be Ricky’s heir, but the money will go into a trust until it comes of age.’

  Lyon stiffened at the determination in her voice. ‘The child should have the best—’

  ‘It will have the best,’ she assured him haughtily, her head high. ‘The best that I can give it.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re going to be a very good mother,’ Lyon nodded.

  Damn him, what was he up to now? All her arguments against him, her resentment, he met with a quiet intensity that unnerved her, his actions very un-Lyonish. She had been expecting anger from him over the baby, instead he had shown awed wonder for the life growing inside her, and now he was showing his approval of her as the mother of his niece or nephew. She had thought she knew the selfishly harsh man that he was, but something about him had changed. Maybe Marilyn’s final rejection of the life they had lived together had shown him that he had given up his own chance to have a normal marriage and children. Whatever the reason, he intended taking extreme interest in the child she was carrying. And she wouldn’t allow him to.

  She straightened her shoulders determinedly. ‘Grandy and I will be leaving for London tomorrow.’

  Lyon’s mouth thinned. ‘You don’t intend wasting any time, do you!’

  ‘I can’t see the point in that, not when I’ve made the decision to go.’

  ‘No,’ he muttered. ‘I remember that from six years ago.’

  Her cheeks coloured delicately. ‘I’ll keep you informed about my plans as best I can, where I shall be, things like that.’

  ‘Thanks!’

  ‘Lyon, I’m not going to be made to feel guilty because I want to bring my child up alone.’

  ‘He’ll be a Falconer, damn it!’

  ‘He?’ she prompted icily. ‘This one and only heir to the Falconer empire could be a girl!’

  ‘I don’t care whether it’s a boy or a girl; it will be your child!’

  Silence hung heavily in the room after Lyon’s forceful outburst, Shay barely breathing as she looked at him with wide eyes. She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue, air entering her lungs in a long-drawn-out breath.

  ‘Oh, to hell with it,’ Lyon suddenly exploded. ‘Go to London, set up house there, but I’ll be watching you every step of the way!’

  ‘You wouldn’t dare!’ Shay gasped her outrage at his arrogance.

  ‘You know me better than that, Shay,’ he reminded her in a so
ftly threatening voice. ‘I’ve always done whatever I had to for my family, and the child you’re carrying is a member of it. If you leave here tomorrow I’ll have someone watching you!’

  ‘You can go to hell, Lyon Falconer!’ She glared at him, had known he was ruthless, but this—! She couldn’t believe even Lyon would go to the extreme of having her watched and spied upon.

  ‘I’ve lived there more years than I care to think about,’ he dismissed bitterly. ‘I can live there for as long as it takes.’

  ‘Well you can do it without any help from me,’ Shay told him furiously. ‘And if I do happen to see someone following me, I shall report it to the police. And tell them the name of their employer!’

  The derisive smile on Lyon’s lips as he left the room wasn’t conducive to an easy mind.

  Damn him, damn him! Even though she was leaving this house Lyon wasn’t going to let her go. She was a prisoner of her own body and the life of her child!

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘ANY CALLS, Mrs Devon?’ Shay smiled at the middle-aged woman who had been her housekeeper for the last two months. Only two weeks after coming to London with her grandfather, he had helped her move into this delightful mews house in a private cobble-stone courtyard, and from the many applicants she had had for the job of housekeeper she had chosen this openly friendly woman. She hadn’t been disappointed with the choice, the woman kind and hardworking.

  ‘Did Mr Flanagan’s flight leave on time?’ The older woman took Shay’s jacket, a tiny woman whose movements were birdlike, her light brown hair liberally sprinkled with white, her brown eyes warm. She occupied the upstairs flat to this comfortably spacious house, an ideal arrangement for both of them.

  Sadness tinged Shay’s smile. Her grandfather had finally returned to Ireland this morning, and she had just come back from seeing him off at the airport. ‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘He’s probably already back in Dublin by now.’ She had stopped off on the way back from the airport and had lunch.

  ‘Such a nice man.’ Mrs Devon handed her the list of messages she had taken while Shay was out. ‘The one from Mrs Falconer, Mrs Marilyn Falconer,’ she added with a slight strain in her voice, ‘is urgent.’

  Shay stiffened at the mention of Lyon’s wife, and she could tell by the housekeeper’s manner that she hadn’t been enamoured of the other woman from their telephone conversation either. ‘Did she say what was—urgent?’

  ‘No.’ Mrs Devon frowned. ‘And I didn’t like to ask,’ she grimaced tellingly.

  Shay held back her smile with effort, nodding dismissively to the other woman. ‘I’ll have tea in the other room while I answer some of these calls.’

  She ate the scones that accompanied the pot of tea, eating well nowadays, her well-rounded body evidence of how her pregnancy was progressing, the baby’s movements strong and regular now, all of Shay’s dresses loose and flowing. She had bloomed healthily away from Falconer House—and Lyon—had enjoyed the last three months in London with her grandfather, pleased that he would be coming back for the birth of the baby. In the mean time she intended resuming her writing, keeping herself busy until she had the baby to care for.

  Shay kept returning Marilyn’s call until last, impatiently tapping her nails on the telephone table as she waited to be put through to the other woman’s office, sure Marilyn had deliberately kept her waiting. Or perhaps she was being paranoid. Although it would be just like Marilyn.

  ‘Shay, how nice of you to get back to me so promptly,’ Marilyn greeted smoothly when she did at last come on the line.

  Shay was instantly on her guard; the other woman was never this pleasant. ‘You told my housekeeper it was urgent I do so,’ she pointed out distantly.

  ‘Oh yes,’ Marilyn laughed. ‘Well I do want to see you, but I only stressed the urgency to your housekeeper because I’ve learnt you just can’t rely on the help nowadays,’ she drawled dismissively.

  ‘So it isn’t really urgent?’ Shay snapped, impatient with this woman’s snobbery.

  ‘There are certain things I need to talk to you about,’ Marilyn said irritably. ‘We still have to go over Ricky’s will with you.’

  ‘I informed your office that I already know the contents of Ricky’s will.’

  ‘Nevertheless—’

  ‘Look, Marilyn,’ Shay interrupted, smiling her thanks to Mrs Devon as she came in to remove the tea-tray. ‘Why did you really call me?’

  ‘I’ve just told you—’

  ‘What could just have easily been said in a letter, to my own lawyer, if necessary,’ Shay sighed.

  ‘We are still sisters-in-law,’ the other woman snapped waspishly. ‘I believed, erroneously as it turns out, that this could be handled in a friendly manner. Obviously I was wrong,’ she said briskly. ‘So could you come to my office some time tomorrow?’

  If she hadn’t known the other woman better, of the bitchiness that was never far from the surface with Marilyn, Shay might have felt remorse about her cold attitude towards her. But she did know Marilyn, too well as it happened, and she wasn’t fooled for a minute. ‘Before twelve or after two,’ Shay agreed curtly.

  ‘What happens between twelve and two?’ Marilyn was curious.

  ‘I rest,’ Shay bit out.

  ‘Oh, of course,’ the other woman drawled. ‘I should imagine you’re quite big by now, aren’t you?’

  ‘I look like any other woman who’s seven months’ pregnant,’ Shay answered tartly.

  ‘Don’t be so sensitive,’ Marilyn mocked. ‘I only put into words that day what everyone else in the room must have been thinking.’

  Shay drew in a deep breath in her resentment. ‘Thinking it and saying it are two different things,’ she pointed out coldly. ‘Besides which it was totally untrue.’

  ‘What do I care whose baby you’re carrying,’ the other woman stated insultingly. ‘I shall soon cease to be a member of the Falconer family anyway.’

  ‘You seemed concerned three months ago,’ Shay reminded her tautly, pleating folds absently into the pale peach dress she wore in her agitation, impatiently smoothing the soft material as she realised what she was doing.

  ‘Surprised,’ Marilyn corrected. ‘We all were. You really foiled poor Lyon’s plans this time, you know. But then you seem to have made a habit of that through the years,’ she challenged softly.

  ‘Sorry?’ prompted Shay sharply.

  ‘No need to apologise, Shay,’ the other woman taunted. ‘I was used to Lyon’s affairs by the time you came along. But he intended keeping you around as his mistress for a long time,’ she derided. ‘And you spoilt it all by bringing up the subject of marriage.’

  ‘He told you?’ she gasped.

  ‘Of course. Lyon and I have never had any secrets from each other. I knew that he always discarded his women when they brought up marriage,’ she scorned.

  ‘He married you!’

  ‘Yes, he did,’ Marilyn acknowledged softly. ‘And it isn’t his decision that we divorce now either,’ she added with satisfaction.

  Shay had already guessed that before Lyon confirmed it three months ago. ‘Before twelve or after two, Marilyn?’ she prompted curtly.

  ‘Two-thirty?’ The other woman wasn’t in the least perturbed by Shay’s sharpness.

  She felt the return of the unease she always felt around the Falconer family as she replaced the receiver. The last three months had been tranquil, a time to gather her defences after the trauma of Ricky’s death and funeral. She had felt almost serene the last few weeks of her pregnancy, had enjoyed preparing the house for the arrival of the baby. And if Lyon had kept to his threat about having her watched she hadn’t seen any evidence of it. And if she didn’t see it she wasn’t going to worry about anything any more. She cursed Marilyn for destroying her peace of mind with one telephone call, vividly reminding her that she would never be rid of the Falconer family.

  * * *

  SHE SHOULDN’T HAVE tried to shop during the lunchtime hours, should have stuck to her usual r
outine and rested during that time. But she had thought to perform two chores at the same time, that of shopping for more maternity clothes before going on to Marilyn’s plush legal office.

  The shops were crowded, and she felt the pull of her pregnancy as she tried on a couple of gowns, feeling hot and sticky by the time she emerged out of the changing-room with one of the dresses to buy. She paid for it quickly before hurrying to the Underground, a few stops away from Marilyn’s office, and not in the mood to attempt to walk it, or fight for a taxi.

  The station was busy too, everyone rushing to get somewhere, Shay buying her ticket before being caught up in the crowd heading for the escalator down to the platform. No sooner had her foot touched the moving top step than she felt herself jostled by the crowd behind. She felt her balance go, and stared with horror down the long length of escalator occupied by only a few people before she pitched forward with a terrified scream.

  She tumbled past the people on the stairs, down and down as hands came out to try and stop her, feeling the sharpness of the metal steps cutting into her, fighting for consciousness as she tried to stop herself falling any farther. But she just kept going, going over and over, until she reached the bottom with a sickening lurch, feeling the hot rush of blood down her legs before she passed out.

  She had lucid moments during the next half an hour, looking up briefly to see a sea of faces gathered over her as she still lay at the foot of the moving stairs; staring, grotesque faces that suddenly turned to blackness once again. The next thing she was aware of was being in an ambulance, its bell ringing wildly as it weaved in and out of the traffic. She wanted to shout out that it was too late for that, that she knew her baby was gone. But the bell kept ringing, and she was sobbing as the blackness engulfed her once again. The next thing she knew she was in an examining room, hysterically demanding to know what they had done with her baby. Then she knew nothing else as she felt the sharp sting of a needle in her arm.

  * * *

  ‘SHAY.’

  She knew that voice, knew that her nemesis had come to haunt her, and she refused to open her eyes and look at his face. ‘Come to gloat, Lyon?’ Her bitterness rasped in her throat. ‘If you’ve brought that contract with you now I’ll sign it.’