by Sara Wood
‘What?’ she cried, terrified by his savage fury. Her face went white. ‘Morgan! What are you saying?’
He checked himself, his chest heaving in his efforts to contain his anger. ‘God!’ he muttered, passing a shaking hand through his hair. He looked across at her, his eyes narrowed with pain. ‘Forget it!’ he ordered.
Jodie stared back, shaking uncontrollably with distress. ‘I can’t!’ she whispered. ‘You’ve said too much.’
His mouth compressed. ‘Don’t you think I know that? And regret it? Leave it, Jodie! You don’t want to know!’
‘No,’ she mumbled. ‘But I must. If I am to understand the depth of his—and your—hatred for me, I have a right to be told the whole story.’
There was a flash of grudging admiration in his burning eyes and she lifted her chin, determined to show him that she could handle anything he had to reveal to her.
‘You insist?’ he queried. She nodded and he took several deep breaths. As if drained by anger, he leaned against the counter, his expression far away. ‘You weren’t to know what damage you’d do, of course,’ he said, ominously quiet after his rage. ‘When you turned up on the doorstep unexpectedly I did everything I could to put you off—’
‘I noticed!’ she glowered.
‘Jodie,’ he said softly, ‘at the time I thought you had come here on a casual whim, perhaps eager to cash in on your father’s wealth. It was my intention that you’d go away virtually unscathed, accepting that your father wasn’t interested in you.’
‘Does…does he really hate me?’ she asked jerkily.
Morgan’s slow nod drew a moan from her. ‘I’m sorry you had to know that,’ he said roughly. ‘For many reasons, I wanted you to leave before you learned the consequences of not replying to Sam’s letter. I thought it would be too cruel.’ He hauled in a harsh breath. ‘But you had to keep at me, didn’t you?’ he flung. ‘Like a dog worrying a bone!’
Her hand had flown to her mouth. ‘What?’ she cried in agitation. ‘What were the repercussions?!’
Morgan’s face twisted in pain. She saw him go pale, saw the torment in his eyes, the contortion of his mouth, and she shrank back, wishing she’d never started this, almost wishing she’d turned around and gone home. She gave a whimper and his eyes flickered, then focused on her as though he’d been miles away.
‘What,’ she repeated in a strangled whisper, ‘were the consequences?’
And he answered, in a pained and inaudible growl, ‘The death of the woman he loved.’
CHAPTER FIVE
SHE choked back a sob of horror, frantic to stay in control and to refute his shocking allegation.
‘I can’t be held responsible for that! It’s…’ She sucked in a sharp breath. ‘It’s a wicked thing to say!’
‘But true.’ He glanced quickly at his watch and she almost exploded with anger.
‘How dare you? Forget the time!’ she yelled. ‘This is important! How am I supposed to have killed someone with the Atlantic Ocean between us? You tell me that! I need to know!’ she stormed.
‘You failed him when he needed you. Sam had fallen in love,’ Morgan began. ‘He wanted to get in touch with you because he longed to see you before…’ Morgan paused, took a steadying breath, avoiding her eyes as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. ‘Before he got married,’ he continued. ‘And to do so he needed your mother’s address to arrange a divorce.’
‘But…my mother was dead!’ Jodie protested.
‘I know that—now. That information has come a little too late, though,’ Morgan replied.
‘I still don’t understand.’
‘I’m getting there. Unfortunately your father chose not to tell his fiancée that he was still married—’
‘Why?’ she demanded.
He shrugged. ‘Your mother could have been anywhere. It could have taken years to trace her. Sam’s fiancée was much younger, and—’
‘How much younger?’ she interrupted.
‘Nine years older than me,’ he replied, his voice tight and stiff. ‘Thirty-six.’
‘My father must be around sixty!’ she said in astonishment. ‘Did she love him?’ she probed. ‘Really love him?’
‘How can I answer that?’ he hedged. ‘Remember, I wasn’t around most of the time. All I know is that she wanted to marry him more than anything in the world and he was desperate to make her his wife. Sam feared he’d lose her if she knew there were complications.’
‘If she loved him she would have waited!’ Jodie said passionately. Morgan just looked at her. ‘She didn’t love him! Did she?’
His lips compressed. ‘Possibly not.’
‘She was after his money?’ Jodie asked indignantly.
‘Your father had a lot more than money to offer her,’ he answered enigmatically. ‘And he was crazy about her. As you can imagine, he became increasingly agitated when there was no reply from you.’
‘But…why didn’t he write to me again?’ she wailed.
‘I don’t know. Perhaps because he wasn’t at all well,’ Morgan explained. ‘He had a lot on his plate. He and his fiancée were moving house—to here—with all the usual upheavals that entails—choosing carpets, buying antique furniture, paintings, visiting the London silver galleries, rebuilding the kitchen, landscaping the gardens….’
‘Good grief! No wonder he was ill! That would have taxed anyone his age!’ she exclaimed in concern. ‘He should have been taking it easy—’
‘I know that,’ Morgan said wearily. ‘But he was indulgent and could refuse her nothing, particularly as he was keenly aware that his fiancée was afraid she’d end up as a mistress, rather than a wife. Constant delays to setting a wedding date caused endless friction. It wore Sam down and privately he blamed you. One day, he and his fiancée had a blazing row, and when he wouldn’t respond to her ultimatum, she stormed out. She’d been drinking and her judgement was impaired by that and by anger…possibly fear, too, that she was being strung along. She drove into the path of an oncoming lorry and…’ His voice broke. He bit his lip and turned away.
Jodie stared in horror. The robe stretched taut across his tensed back and she ached to console him. But she’d inadvertently caused the tragedy. She could do nothing. Her fluttering hands fell to her sides and never had she felt so useless in the face of someone’s grief.
‘Oh, Morgan!’ she whispered sadly, and her own voice faltered. What could she say? Words were inadequate. A hug would have been the answer, but that was out of the question.
His head lifted a fraction. ‘Your father was taken to hospital in shock. She died a short time later of her injuries,’ he said, the low mutter betraying how deeply he’d been affected.
It was extraordinary that Morgan should have cared so much for this woman. But he had, perhaps because she’d brought happiness and love to his friend’s life.
Whereas she… Jodie fought back the tears. Everything was horribly clear now. Morgan’s utter hostility, her father’s rejection of her.
‘I’m so sorry. So terribly sorry. Poor woman…my poor father,’ she said brokenly. ‘No wonder he hates me. And you do, too.’ She felt miserable, but at least she knew where she stood. ‘Thank you for telling me,’ she said, feeling drained. ‘It puts me in the picture.’
And despite his antagonism she had to make a gesture, to show how she felt. Impulsively she went to his side, her heart wrenching at his ferocious frown. Tentatively she touched his arm and he started.
‘You must have taken the brunt of this dreadful situation,’ she observed gently. ‘My father ill, his fiancée dead… You must have been the person he turned to, to unload all his grief. Presumably you handled the funeral—’
‘Yes,’ he agreed tersely. ‘Sam couldn’t attend.’
‘And there would have been the house to organise, my father to visit, chores to be done…so much. You’ve been through a lot too, haven’t you?’
He sawed in a long breath and shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t know what to ma
ke of you, Jodie!’ he said in a low tone.
‘I am what you see,’ she said simply. ‘I care very deeply about things. I’m not irresponsible or shallow. I wish I could convince you of my honesty. I swear to you on my father’s life that I am not lying about sending several letters to him. I don’t mind accepting responsibility for all kinds of things, but neglecting to reply to him isn’t one of them. Those letters went astray—or were deliberately kept from my father.’
He raised a querying eyebrow. ‘Why do you say that?’
‘Because I know the letters were posted. That means those are the only two possible explanations,’ she said quietly. ‘I have to say that the woman here wasn’t very helpful, and that’s putting it mildly. On both occasions when I phoned and told her who I was she told me to take a running jump—’
‘A…what?’ he exclaimed, grabbing her wrist urgently.
Suddenly she knew there was a chink of light, a chance that he might know who this person was.
‘A running jump!’ she repeated, her eyes bright and searching. ‘Was it the daily help? She sounded young. Very off-hand and dismissive, and she put the phone down on me when I got emotional. Oh, I thought she had a very faint Irish accent, if that helps.’ She waited, scanning his face anxiously.
Irish! Morgan groaned and passed a hand over his face. Teresa had never been able to disguise her Dublin background, despite all her expensive elocution lessons. And the expression ‘take a running jump’ had been peculiar to Teresa. She’d used it often—whenever she lost her temper. That was how they’d lost two good daily helps.
Appalled, he gazed down at Jodie’s upturned face and felt like grovelling. ‘I think it’s possible I’ve misjudged you,’ he said huskily.
Her eyes widened to mossy pools of light and her lips parted as she said breathlessly, ‘You know who it was, don’t you?’
He felt his heart leap and buck, found himself drawn closer. The satin of her skin beneath his fingers throbbed deeply, and he didn’t know whether that was from her pulses or his… He clung on hard to keep his sanity.
‘Teresa,’ he managed. Common sense told him to remove his hand. Instead, he let his fingers spread out over the fragile bones. She looked puzzled and he expanded. ‘Sam’s fiancée.’
‘But…’ Her eyes grew enormous. ‘Why wouldn’t she want me around?’
That mouth…the soft arch, the hopeful curl at each corner… Morgan slicked his tongue over his lips so he could answer without croaking like an idiot. But the little shudder that ran through her was almost his undoing. He’d taken a step closer before he realised and he had difficulty keeping his mind on his answer.
‘Remember, she didn’t know why you’d been contacted. Sam’s friends…disapproved of Teresa. Perhaps she feared you would too, and might try to influence him adversely. Who knows? As I said, she was desperately eager to get married,’ he added, omitting to say why—that she had already been carrying another man’s child and time had been running out on her.
She bit her lip. ‘It’s tragic!’ she said passionately. ‘I suppose it was she who threw away my letters?’
‘Very likely,’ he said heavily.
Pain lanced through him. Teresa had caused mayhem. Sam’s life, his, Jack’s, and now this tender-hearted woman’s future had suffered because of Teresa’s insecurity and dogged determination to be the wife of a wealthy man.
‘There’s a terrible irony in this. Without realising it, she prevented her own marriage!’ Jodie mused unhappily.
‘If she’d known,’ Morgan agreed, ‘she would have welcomed you with open arms. And…’
He winced, thinking of the repercussions. Only because Teresa had known she was dying had he discovered he was a father. If she had married Sam he would have been in complete ignorance. But he’d held his son in his arms and had fallen hopelessly in love with him.
Because of Teresa, Jodie had been upset unnecessarily by what she’d imagined was Sam’s rejection. Consequently Teresa had lost her chance of marriage and she’d brought on her own death. Because of that, Sam had succumbed to shock and then pneumonia, which must have shortened his life expectancy, and the future was a potential mess. He shook his head in disbelief at the cruel quirks of fate.
‘If only she had let you come,’ he said heavily. ‘She would be here today.’
‘It sounds as if you were very fond of her,’ she said delicately.
He turned away, his shoulders high with the terrible agony of futile wishing. And then a little voice in his head told him that he had benefited by Teresa’s death because he knew the joy of fatherhood. He couldn’t deal with that.
‘I don’t want to talk about her,’ he jerked out.
‘No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude on your grief,’ she said hastily, painfully sweet, heartbreakingly gentle and solicitous of his feelings.
A surge of sympathy for her threatened to overwhelm him. She’d had some tough things to face since arriving here.
‘And your own grief?’ he asked, facing her again.
She gave a brave smile and he felt more of a heel than ever.
‘I feel keenly for my father’s unhappiness and for his ill health. I dearly want to do what I can to help him,’ she said earnestly. ‘If that means walking away, then that’s what I’ll do. But I think I might have something to offer. He has you, but I’m his flesh and blood, all he has in the world now!’
He stared at her eager face, the love for a father she’d never known glowing in her soft eyes. She was one of those rare women—unselfish to a fault, caring and compassionate, and with a heart that longed to embrace the world. And he’d almost thrown her out!
Sam ought to know his daughter before he died. She deserved that much. And it would bring Sam happiness.
He shut out his own needs, determined now to do what was right. ‘Jodie,’ he said softly, ‘when your father is a little better I will tell him what happened to the letters. We’ll take it from there.’
‘You mean about his fiancée keeping me away?’ she said doubtfully. ‘Wouldn’t that upset him?’
He gave a rueful smile. ‘Leave it to me. I’ll make sure he understands why she took such precipitate action. I don’t want to lie to him.’
‘You’re a very honourable man,’ she sighed.
He wished that were true. ‘I’m afraid he couldn’t cope with seeing you now, Jodie. Are you prepared to bide your time till I can talk to him and break it gently?’
‘Anything!’ she said fervently, her face wreathed in smiles and her eyes misting with happiness.
Somehow his hands had found their way to her shoulders, and he was frowning because he wanted to cup her face and kiss that tremulous mouth, whisper promises he might regret.
But her innocent, accepting face stared back at him with such joy and hope written there that he found himself saying, ‘It might take a while. Why don’t you stay here? Make yourself at home.’
She beamed in delight. ‘Can I? That would be perfect. I’d be able to hear from you every day how he was, then. And I could help with the washing and keep the house clean—’
‘But not cook!’
‘Not if you want to live!’ she said with a laugh.
He grinned back at her, worryingly elated that she would be here, under the same roof.
There was one problem still nagging at his mind: Jack. He needed time to decide how to handle that. He checked his watch. Jack would surely be waking now. And something still held him back from inviting Jodie up to see him.
‘There’s something I must do. Will you excuse me for a while?’
He grabbed a bottle from the fridge, concealing it from her, and hurried out before she could comment.
His own subterfuge puzzled him. She was everything Sam would wish for in a daughter: genuinely sweet and honest, courageous and thoughtful. Musing over his secrecy, he entered the nursery and bent over the cot, his love for Jack easing all the anxiety from his face and replacing it with a tender smile.
/> Whatever Jodie’s character, she still remained a threat to Jack’s future. OK, he corrected, a threat to the future he’d planned with Jack. Was he being selfish? What would be in Jack’s best interests?
He reached down into the cradle and lightly touched the small closed fist. It opened and gripped his finger hard.
Jodie would love Jack, he thought helplessly. And she’d be a wonderful substitute mother to him—a million times better than Teresa, who’d planned on employing two nannies to ‘cope with the kid’.
But he’d be a great father! He’d relearnt all the old nursery rhyme books already, studied child development, invested in some books on child health, explored the pros and cons of organic food, environmentally ‘kind’ nappies…
It was between him and Jodie, then: which of them was best fitted to care for his child? He leaned over and kissed his son’s rosy cheek and he knew that his own feelings for Jack were too fierce for him ever to walk away.
Morgan sighed heavily. How the devil could he work for the reunion between Sam and Jodie—and at the same time end up in charge of Jack, who had been registered as Sam’s son?
Biting his lip at the impossibility of the dilemma, he heard a sound and jerked his head around, his heart racing. Alarm lanced his eyes before he could control his reaction to seeing Jodie there, her face wreathed in soft smiles.
A sensation like a clap of thunder rolled through him. The decision had been taken out of his hands. She would adore her ‘half-brother’. Would want to take him over now. Dear God, he thought in anguish. It had come sooner than he’d imagined.
‘I didn’t mean to disturb you,’ she whispered. ‘But I was passing and…oh, Morgan, can I come in to see your baby?’
‘My…’ He swallowed. Of course! She had no reason to think he might be Sam’s! But he must tell her. ‘I’m not—’
‘Oh, please!’ she breathed. ‘I won’t make a sound, I promise.’
He hesitated. What was it called…a lie by omission? Being economical with the truth? Yet this was his son. There was no deceit in that. He raised his head and met her pleading eyes.
