by Shirley Wine
Invitations to these events were coveted.
The Tin Roof Toms were a pizzicato quartet who plucked their string instruments with guitar picks instead of horse-hair bows. The group was popular and Victoria had wanted to hear them perform since forever.
Bored and restless, she paced.
The bedroom's opulence and dark green color oppressed her. She found the color suffocating and much preferred light, airy spaces. Her gaze landed on the silk flowers but she curbed the impulse to rip the damn thing apart.
Again.
If she did, she'd probably crush the horrid artificial things beneath her shoes.
Unable to bear being cooped up a moment longer; she sought sanctuary in the huge library Logan had shown her earlier.
The selection of books that filled the floor to ceiling shelves left her breathless with delight. She selected several tomes on Renaissance art and houses of the era and curled up in a deep leather armchair.
She was contracted to do the flowers for a mediaeval themed spring wedding in September.
The bride, determined to outdo her BFF's wedding wanted a pageant, complete with troubadours. The Donovan library was as good a place as any to start her research of the time period.
She would use this visit to her advantage.
Deep in concentration, she started when the door opened. She never moved, hoping she would not be noticed and whoever was there would go away.
"Ms. Scanlan?"
Victoria grimaced as she recognized Muriel Donovan's voice. She stood up, the books and the sketch pad she was making notes on spilling from her lap.
"Do you mind if I join you?"
"It's your home." Victoria shrugged. Her heart raced as she stooped to gather the fallen books and place them neatly on the table beside the chair.
She watched Muriel through lowered lashes as she sat in the chair opposite. "Your library makes me envious."
"Just the library?" Muriel’s well shaped eyebrows rose in question.
Victoria winced at the subtle snub. It was more than time to she met this woman’s animosity head on.
"Logan and I are friends, Mrs. Donovan."
"Then why are you here?" Muriel pleated the fabric of her skirt with restless fingers. The steel voice demanded an answer.
"Logan invited me. If my intention was to trap him and all this—" Victoria waved an expressive hand at the well-stocked library—"I could have accepted any one of his proposals over the past two years."
The woman stiffened as if someone had jabbed her with a poker. "You don’t consider my son good enough for you?"
Oh boy. I'm damned if I do and damned if I don’t.
This woman was impossible to please. The implication angered her. The gloves were well and truly off.
"I treasure his friendship."
"Don't misunderstand me. This situation is so puzzling."
To you and me both. "I suggest you ask Logan?"
"I have." The woman shook her head in defeat. "He's always been a clam about his friends and you in particular."
So Logan has his mother’s measure?
She should have been pleased but this made Victoria even warier.
"You can be proud of him." She tried to mollify the older woman, even as she felt a sneaking, inconvenient sympathy. Her weekend house party was filled with undercurrents of tension.
"I am." Her voice was full of simple pride. "My son's happiness means everything to me. So does the harmony in my household."
Had Keir's mother cast a long shadow over this woman’s life?
"That's understandable." Victoria watched the restless hand pleating and un-pleating the delicate fabric.
Muriel looked at Victoria with ice-blue eyes so like her son's. She looked guileless, but Victoria remained uneasy.
"I find it intolerable that you've managed to set Logan and Keir against each other."
So Logan's mother was aware of that ugly scene before breakfast. "That wasn't my doing."
"Maybe," Muriel said, "But it was you who attacked another guest."
Victoria rose from the chair and crossed the room, and then turned and faced Muriel. "And your guest has the right to insult anyone who crosses her path?"
The older woman took an indignant breath. "Is the truth insulting?"
Victoria inhaled deeply, fighting down temper. What was it with Davina and this woman? When she remained silent, Muriel gave a disdainful sniff.
"It's taken more than a decade to heal the breach between Keir and his father. I won't have it reopened."
Victoria shook her head in disbelief. "I’m not the person who lied to Keir, Mrs. Donovan. I never told him Elizabeth was dead. Surely you must have known that sooner or later he'd discover your lies?"
"How dare you?" A hissing breath escaped Muriel. Her hands fisted on the fabric of her skirt. "That woman is not spoken of in this house. It would have been better for everyone if the slut had died. But of course she never co-operated."
The horrible words sent a cold shiver down Victoria’s spine.
How could she ever, for even one moment, have thought this woman was soft? Muriel Donovan was tempered steel, her eyes radiated hatred.
There’s nothing charming about Muriel. Forget that at your peril.
Despite Keir’s warning, Victoria refused to back away from this confrontation.
Why was Muriel so keen to push her stepson into a loveless alliance? For Donovans? Victoria dismissed that. No one was that altruistic. What was in it for Muriel?
"Is that why you abused Keir as a child? Because he was Elizabeth's son?"
Slow, mottled color crept up under Muriel's sallow skin. Her hands clenched into fists. "I never abused Keir."
"Didn't you?" Victoria paced in front of the library windows. "I can understand you hating Elizabeth. But why take your anger out on Keir?"
"You don't know what you're talking about." Muriel fairly vibrated with anger.
"Don't I? It's you who's blind. Keir's going to be so unhappy married to Davina Strathmore."
Victoria now very angry, refused to back down.
"I've no idea what you're talking about." Muriel's eyes glittered with hostility. "Davina will make a fitting wife for the CEO of Donovans."
A very unladylike snort escaped Victoria. "Keir may be CEO of Donovans, but he's also very much a man."
A man who'd already been so badly hurt.
"Keir should be grateful Davina is prepared to overlook his imperfect bloodlines. Not many women would."
Unsure she'd heard correctly, Victoria caught her ear lobe and waggled it. "Pardon?"
Muriel’s too uppity by half, she's forgotten her roots. Dan Sinclair's words were a tinny echo.
"You heard."
"I'd much rather have Keir's bloodlines than yours."
Victoria ignored Muriel's sputtering, crossed the room and looked down at her. "You don't even care do you? It's a social coup. Keir doesn’t deserve to be happy. After all, he's the son of the woman your husband once loved. The woman you've spent a lifetime despising."
Victoria shook her head, but the image of a hurt, unhappy little boy with solemn brown eyes refused to be dislodged.
No wonder he’d grown into a hard embittered man?
Would Connor be disillusioned with the father he craved to know? And should Keir marry Davina, would the woman prevent any chance of a relationship developing between father and son?
Especially given Connor was Victoria's child.
"You're crazy." Dull color washed up Muriel's skin, the ice-blue eyes flashed venom.
"Me?" Victoria gave a scornful laugh. "Tell me, Mrs. Donovan, what's in this for you?"
The question brought the older woman out of the chair as fast as a scalded cat. "Keir's an engaged man. The invitations are ready to be sent out for the wedding. Nothing, including a money hungry nobody, will interfere with our arrangements."
The older woman’s expression prickled Victoria’s skin with icy needles. She wanted to be certai
n she was receiving the right message. "You expect me to get out of Keir’s life?"
"Be realistic, Ms. Scanlan." Muriel's smile was anything but sweet. "A summer fling is one thing, but marriage to the Donovan heir, another entirely. Don't imagine Keir will toss aside a match with Davina Strathmore for a nobody like you."
The contemptuous insult had Victoria grinding her teeth as she forced down temper.
"It would suit you so well if I decided to leave wouldn't it?" Logan or her father would have recognized her silky tone. "Tell me, could you make it worth my while?"
"I knew you were a sensible girl." Muriel was so pleased with her imagined victory Victoria clenched her hands into fists to prevent doing something rash. "I have a check for you."
Muriel withdrew a check from a pocket giving it to Victoria. She barely suppressed a gasp when she saw the number of zeros.
With careful deliberation, Victoria studied the check and then looked directly at Muriel as she tore it in half and then half again, and let the pieces flutter to the floor.
Muriel made a spluttering sound of shock.
"I may not be rich, Mrs. Donovan, but I'm not unscrupulous," she said, her voice icy with contempt.
"I never suggested you were." Muriel clenched and unclenched her hands.
"That check says otherwise." Victoria's spine stiffened as she stepped closer to this objectionable woman. "And understand this Mrs. Donovan. I won't be out of Keir's life, even if he does marry Ms. Strathmore. And he, Mrs. Donovan, will keep contact with me. I can guarantee this, if nothing else."
Victoria knew, as sure as she took her next breath, that Keir would not ignore his son.
Once he knew of Connor's existence.
Muriel couldn't know this. High spots of color marked her cheeks. "Davina’s right. You’re immoral and unscrupulous."
"Is that so?" Victoria smiled, Knowing it would enrage Logan's mother, she stooped and picked up the pieces of torn check. "It will be interesting to see how Keir, Logan or Caine react to your attempt at bribery."
The woman let out a strangled gasp and snatched the pieces of torn paper from Victoria's grasp.
"Is Davina running scared? This smacks of a cozy little scheme you’ve cooked up between the two of you." Victoria knew she’d stumbled on the truth when Muriel colored in agitation.
"Take care, Ms. Scanlan." Muriel stepped closer.
Victoria held her ground even as the question marks about Muriel Donovan's sanity escalated. "Tell me, did you marry for prestige, only to find out your husband was still enthralled with Elizabeth?"
She was sure she heard the woman gnash her teeth.
"How dare you? You'll live to regret that." She turned on her heel and flounced out.
Victoria let out a shuddering breath. The confrontation left her sick and scared. Had she lost her senses?
Me and my runaway tongue.
She knew she'd just made an implacable enemy.
Bookmark chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Keir stood near the back of the group of men as they walked into the well-appointed show barn of the Darkhaven stables.
He wrinkled his nose as the pungent smell of horseflesh, hay and sawdust assaulted his senses.
Memories he'd thought exorcized rose to taunt him.
He flat out hated the stables. Hated horses. Hated every brick and stone of Darkhaven.
So why accept the invitation to visit?
Taller than most of the other men in the party, he leaned back against a support pillar and looked over their heads, watching Logan parade a black stallion around the show ring.
With a jaundiced eye, he watched its high stepping gait, the spirited way it tested Logan's control.
"Magnificent piece of horseflesh isn't it?"
Startled, Keir glanced down and met the shrewd eyes of Logan's uncle. He gave a non-committal grunt.
"Still don't like horses?"
That produced a thin smile. "Nothing much gets past you, does it?"
The older man chuckled, his pale blue eyes almost disappearing in his creased, weather beaten skin. "Young Logan's so much like his dad. Lester was crazy about horses. He died when Logan was a little tyke, took a nasty spill on the racetrack at Ellerslie in a steeple chase."
This piqued Keir's interest. "I never knew that."
The old man gave him a measured glance. "I suspect there's a whole heap of things about the past you don't know."
"You won't get any argument from me."
The old man chewed on a straw, watching him. Keir grew restive under that shrewd gaze. "You still at outs with Caine?"
Keir stiffened, not prepared to touch that subject. He fervently wished the man would turn his attention back to the horseflesh being paraded.
Dan Sinclair put a hand on Keir's arm to snag his attention. "You had it rough as a young 'un, Keir. But, if you'll take a word of advice from me, unless you ask the right questions, you won't get the answers you want."
Keir frowned at the old man. Was he right?
"Think on it, lad," Dan said gripping his arm hard before he ambled off to get closer to the heart of the action.
Lad? Keir smothered a derisive snort. It was a long time since he'd been anywhere close to being a lad.
"I'm surprised you joined this group," Caine said quietly.
Keir turned slightly, and looked at his father. "Not much else to do around here."
"You could always saddle up and go for a ride."
A bark of laughter escaped. "Sure. And wouldn't your precious horses enjoy that?"
Caine winced and remorse slugged Keir in the gut.
"Sorry, that was uncalled for." Keir looked at his father, surprised see him looking all of his seventy years. Dark shadows etched bruises under his eyes.
Caine laid a hand on his arm.
"No son," he said quietly. "I'm sorry. More sorry than you'll ever know."
Discomforted by his father's soft, sad words, Keir laid a hand on his father's and for a moment the rest of the noise faded as they looked at each other.
"It's more than time we let the past go. I'm ready to move on."
"Are you? You sure about that, son?" Caine stiffened, his gaze was suddenly harsh. "From where I'm standing, son. You're not going forward. You're hitchin' a rocket-ride to hell."
And that quickly, anger, regret and hate sat like a boulder in Keir's gut. "Unlike you, I honor my commitments. I keep my word and never deal in lies."
Keir suddenly realized their voices had risen and everyone had swiveled in their direction. He turned on his heel and strode out of the barn into the pale autumn sunlight. His chest rose and fell, harsh breaths created little puffs of steam in the chilly air.
His angry strides halted at the rails of the broodmare paddocks.
The mares, bellies distended with unborn foals, looked up as he stalked to the rail, and then with total disdain lowered their heads and continued to graze.
And isn't that the story of my life.
As he leaned over the rail, his father's words taunted him. You're on a rocket-ride to hell.
A mirthless laugh escaped. His father would know after so many years married to the biggest bitch on the planet.
And his father didn't know the least of it.
Keir had been to hell.
And nothing could ever be worse.
Eyes closed, hands gripping the rails, his ex-wife's perfidy slammed him all over again. Grief threatened his composure. Even after all this time, disbelief dogged him at her inherently evil action.
Was that why his angry steps had brought him to this area of Darkhaven?
He opened his eyes and watched the broodmares graze. One curious mare lifted her head and whinnied.
A soft sugar brown color, she ambled over to the rail and sniffed at his hand. Her coat was the same color as Victoria's hair.
Logan and Victoria.
Now there was hell, wearing a different coat.
"Sugar Candy's looking for a treat." Logan
spoke near his elbow.
Keir gave a start. "I've never been one to carry horse treats in my pockets."
Logan delved into his jacket pocket and brought out a carrot. "She loves sugar cubes but now she's pregnant, the only treats are healthy ones."
The mare sniffed at the carrot, and then with a muffled snort took what was on offer.
"You still love the horses?"
Logan chuckled softly. "Do leopards have spots?"
Silence settled as they watched the horses. Logan half turned to Keir. "What were you and Caine arguing about?"
"The usual." Keir aimed a vicious kick at an inoffensive clump of grass. "He wants to apologize—
—and you won't have a bar of it."
"That about sums it up."
Silence settled. The mare leaned over the rail and nudged Logan's arm. He reached up and stroked her nose. "Why don't you like horses? Your father loves them."
Keir laughed, the sound held a hollow echo. "There's your answer."
"Caine loves horses," Logan said slowly, "so you're required to hate them? Have I got that right?"
"God, that sounds so stupid, so bloody juvenile when you say it out loud." Keir turned around and leaned his back against the rail. "Are you serious about Victoria Scanlan?"
Logan laughed and the low amused sound scraped across bruised feelings like fingernails on chalkboard. "I wondered when you'd bring the conversation around to her."
Keir hated that his brother could see right through him. He watched him stroke the mare's nose. "Do you love her?"
"What's not to love? Victoria's hard working, trustworthy and loyal to a fault," Logan drawled affably. "And one of the best damn friends I've ever had. Does that answer your question?"
Keir ground his teeth in frustration.
He wanted to pick Logan up by the scruff of the neck and shake his secrets loose.
"You can't do it, you know."
"Do what?"
"Shake my secrets out of me anymore, like you used to."
Keir couldn't help it, a laugh broke loose. He met Logan's grin with one of his own. "You're no longer that skinny little runt."
Logan shook his head, another laugh escaping as he levered himself off the rails. "I used to get so impatient for the holidays. I'd wait for hours at the gate when you were due to arrive."
