Lovers' Lies

by Shirley Wine

  He leaned back in his chair and gave her a fulminating look.

  "There was no Keir, Victoria," he said very quietly. "The man never gave you his name, so I figured rightly or maybe wrongly, that there was no future for you with him." He looked past her towards the door leading into the cafe. "What the hell sort of trouble have you stirred up this weekend, Vic?"

  "Don't call me that," she said bitterly, too aware of the heat flooding her face. "And why think I've caused trouble?"

  Her father's ruddy complexion deepened. He leaned across the table and gripped her hand so tightly she winced. "Maybe because that's what you do."

  "You're the one who slugged Keir."

  "I was entitled. That man ruined your life."

  "Neither Connor nor Keir have ruined my life. How can you say that?"

  "Time will tell." Her father glanced towards the door. "You've made your bed, girlie. I hope like hell you don't find it too damn uncomfortable to sleep in."

  His words saw her anxiety ratchet up a notch.

  "And here comes your next headache, so take a word of advice from your old man and drop this subject. Now."

  Victoria was only too glad to obey.

  As Keir set the tray on the table, she was keenly aware of his shrewd glance.

  Her father's words kept echoing through her mind far too often during the long vigil they kept at Connor's bedside.

  You've made your bed. I hope it's not too damn uncomfortable to sleep in.

  Too often she stole a look at Keir's shuttered profile, trying to guess at his thoughts only to find his attention was cantered on the still figure of their son.

  He would make one hell of a poker player.

  Connor was so small, so helpless lying there, his stillness so alien.

  The white sheets washed out his normal robust color, making his lashes dark smudges on magnolia pale cheeks.

  His intelligent and often mischievous eyes remained closed. Lips, miniature versions of Keir's, hung flaccid and loose.

  On his head, the white bandage covering the area shaved for the operation, a stark contrast to his sable hair.

  She stroked his limp hand, trying to focus her attention.

  Connor's doctors had stressed the importance of talking to him. They insisted the familiar sound of her voice would pull the little boy toward consciousness.

  Her heart was slowly breaking.

  Nurses and doctors came and went. Connor never roused.

  The longer he remained unresponsive, the greater the chance of an unfavorable outcome.

  At first she’d been self-conscious, too aware of Keir's silent presence. But as the weary hours passed, one jumbled on top of the other, she forgot Keir.

  She recounted their familiar, every day routines. She talked about his friends, about school, about trips to the beach, the zoo, riding horses at her father's stables, going shopping, and his playroom in her florist boutique where he'd spent many hours at her side.

  She talked about anything and everything that came to mind, all the while silently praying something would strike that elusive spark and jolt Connor back to consciousness.

  She talked until she was hoarse, her voice was little more than a husky rasp.

  "Do you want me to take over for a while?"

  Victoria glanced up at Keir, despair etched in her voice and her heart.

  Will my darling baby never wake up?

  "It's worth a try." She was prepared to try anything, anything at all if it would help rouse Connor, bring him back to consciousness. "Let me explain who you are. Connor— Connor—"

  She stroked her baby's limp hand with trembling fingers. Tears burned at the back of eyes gritty with fatigue.

  "Connor, you asked me to find your daddy, remember? I've found him for you, darling."

  Guess what kiddo; he was hiding behind an alias. All this time I've been searching for the wrong man.

  She forced down the bitterness, trying not to let it leach into her voice.

  "Your daddy's here, Connor. Your daddy's here and wants to talk to you."

  She relinquished her seat to Keir.

  Those pesky tears blurred her vision as he picked up Connor’s hand and held it.

  The contrast between Connor's tiny hand in Keir's so much larger one brought a lump of emotion to her throat and tears to her eyes.

  Anger gained a stranglehold on her battered emotions, anger with her father and with Keir. Each in their own way had deceived her, and deprived Connor of his birth right, knowing his father.

  Damn my father. How could he do this to us? What gave him the right to think he could play God with our lives?

  Keir spoke quietly, with that same authoritative tone he'd used with her earlier. It had steadied her panic then, and now it brought her even more reassurance.

  Reaction made her tremble so badly she didn't really hear him. Tears splintered her vision.

  Father and son.

  So often she'd wondered if this meeting would ever take place. But never in her wildest imaginings, had it been in a situation like this.

  With both of them sharing a vigil over their unconscious child.

  Once again, all she’d learned of Keir's childhood, when he was no bigger than Connor, made her disgust and outrage deepen. How could any family treat a small child as they treated him?

  "Victoria! He's coming round!" Keir’s imperative whisper shocked her into awareness.

  The breath caught in her throat.

  Ever so slowly Connor's eyelids flickered. Once, twice and then they lifted and opened fully.

  His pupils were wide and unfocused but his eyes were open.

  "Mommy?" It was the merest whisper.

  "I'm here, sweetheart."

  As she bent closer, joy and relief crowded her senses as she watched recognition gradually animate his features.

  "Mommy?"

  "I'm here, sweetheart. I'm here." She laid a gentle hand on his cheek, emotion swelled inside her, until she thought she'd explode with wonder. How she loved this little boy.

  With a broken laugh she glanced up at Keir. Tears glistened in his dark eyes. And this evidence of his caring warmed the chill his deceit had settled on her soul.

  "He's going to be okay," she whispered, fighting the overwhelming impulse to scoop Connor close in her arms and protect him from further harm. "Our baby is going to be okay."

  Keir gripped her shoulder and merely nodded.

  "You found my daddy?"

  Relief vented itself in a small unsteady laugh. "I did indeed and he's right here, Connor."

  Her little boy looked past her, focusing on the silent man beside the bed. "You my daddy?"

  "Yes, son," Keir's voice was clogged with emotion. "I am."

  Tears of relief burned behind her eyelids. Connor was lucid, and appeared undamaged.

  But it was my mentioning his father that brought my baby back to consciousness.

  Victoria didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

  If God was merciful, Connor would recover, fully.

  She stole a covert look at Keir.

  A small muscle twitched beside his mouth, betraying deep emotion. One hand was clenched into a white knuckled fist at his side and a frisson of apprehension skittered down her spine.

  "You won't get lost again?"

  "I won't get lost, I promise."

  Keir's steady voice reassured the thread of anxiety she heard in Connor's voice and his brown eyes closed.

  The doctor monitoring him gave a satisfied smile.

  Victoria had been concentrating so hard on Connor; the doctor's presence had barely registered.

  Now she watched as he shone a light in Connor's eyes, testing his pupil responses. He pumped the pressure bandage on his arm to read his blood pressure. Then he listened to her baby's heart through his stethoscope.

  A nurse moved to his side and handed the doctor a syringe which he inserted into the drip line that was feeding Connor intravenously.

  As she watched, Connor's e
yelids flickered and then closed, dark crescents on his pale cheeks.

  "He'll do, Ms. Scanlan, he's sleeping naturally." He folded his stethoscope, tucking it in his coat pocket before subjecting her and Keir to a thoughtful glance. "Give him a few days and you'll be pulling your hair out trying to keep him quiet."

  With a shaky laugh Victoria surreptitiously wiped tears from her cheek.

  "Anything would be better than seeing him like this," Keir muttered under his breath.

  "You both go home and get some rest. He'll sleep for hours now." The doctor gave them a hard look from under busy brows. "Rest assured, we'll be keeping a very close eye on him."

  "Thank God," Victoria echoed Keir's softly spoken words before slumping with the intensity of her relief. He stood up and put an arm around her shoulders. "Home and bed, Victoria."

  "Do you want a sedative for her?" The doctor asked quietly.

  "An excellent idea," Keir spoke over the murmur of protest she made.

  The doctor put some pills in an envelope and gave them to Keir. He slipped them into a pocket on the inside of his coat. "Here's my phone numbers if you need to contact us."

  He gave the doctor a business card and Victoria saw the man’s soundless whistle. "Of course, Mr. Donovan."

  Victoria silently simmered.

  In the past few fraught hours it was as if she’d ceased to exist, outside Keir's wishes.

  Anger grew at his high handed, take charge attitude.

  He’d walked into her life and completely taken it over.

  Be honest. I'd have fallen to pieces without his strength.

  He put a hand under her arm and guided her toward the elevators, pressing a button and escorting her into the lift.

  During their vigil, night had come and gone and now the day was far advanced.

  "Dad has warned me the press is out for blood. Ours." Keir faced her squarely as the lift travelled downwards. "Don't say anything."

  "The tabloids?"

  "The Strathmore machine is in full cry, and I have no doubt their orders have come from the top."

  Victoria reeled.

  He'd told her they published the three worst scandal tabloids in circulation and now she was about to discover the implications, first-hand.

  Her first instinct was to flee, but the strong hand under her arm precluded her taking that cowardly way out.

  "What about Connor?"

  "There's an embargo on any information about him. And I’ve installed security guards in his room around the clock. However, you can expect no quarter. They'll cut you to pieces so leave the talking to me, okay?"

  She nodded but there was no softening of his hard, cynical expression.

  The bruise on his jaw, dark stubble and disheveled appearance gave him a dangerous, rakish look.

  "I didn't know," she whispered, horrified.

  "Well now you do," he said harshly. "So deal with it."

  As the lift reached its destination she was trembling so much, she was grateful for the support of his hard grip on her arm.

  His prediction proved more than accurate.

  Victoria cowered as shrieking pressman and flashing cameras hemmed them in. Keir guided her through the melee, shaking his head in a negative response to the questions bombarding them from all sides.

  He shoved her in the open door of a black limousine, before climbing in behind her. The slam of the door enclosed them in the relative privacy of the tinted glass interior as the car sped away.

  "Do I have to face that every time I want to visit Connor?" she managed to ask after several fraught minutes.

  "No. I'll make arrangements."

  With that Victoria had to be content. She slumped back against the luxurious upholstery and closed her eyes.

  I hope you can cope with the results of your impulsiveness.

  With a shudder she recalled Caine's warning.

  She hadn’t understood his comment before. Now it made appalling sense.

  Weary from the stress of the preceding hours she possessed about as much spine as a cooked noodle. With limp acceptance she was content to go where Keir led. When the car finally stopped, Victoria opened her eyes, staring in stunned amazement as she surveyed the impressive mansion.

  "Welcome to Dunstan, Victoria," Keir answered her unspoken question in an impassive voice.

  She alighted from the car, and stared around, shell shocked. "This is your home?"

  "It is." His smile made her nervous. "But more importantly it's now yours and my son's home as well."

  Chapter Fifteen

  Victoria came awake slowly.

  Her head felt thick, her mind sluggish and grit burned behind her eyelids. Even asleep she’d felt oppressed. A huge weight rested permanently on her chest in the region of her heart.

  She struggled to remember where she was. A soft knock had her turning her head as the door opened.

  "You awake?" Keir asked quietly.

  Keir!

  Connor’s accident.

  That sleeping pill. Small wonder she felt so rotten.

  Memory came crashing back. She bolted upright, clutching at the sheet. "Connor?"

  "Relax. He’s okay. I’ve just checked in with his doctors. He’s demanding breakfast even as we speak."

  A quick, relieved breath escaped. If Connor was demanding food, he was surely on the mend.

  Her anxiety faded a little then increased a notch as she saw him put her suitcase inside the door. He crossed to the bed and sat on the edge.

  "Dad brought your case over. I have to go into the office. My chauffeur will be ready to take you to the hospital at ten." He glanced at his watch partially concealed by an immaculate white cuff.

  "On the Easter Holiday weekend?"

  He nodded his expression grim. "Donovan’s Board has called an emergency meeting. I need to go into the City."

  Guilt and apprehension coiled in her gut. "Over me?"

  His shuttered expression revealed nothing, his dark eyes emotionless.

  A shiver goose stepped across her skin.

  She didn’t recognize this man, yet another facet of the very complex person who was her son’s father. Gone was the passionate lover, the friend she’d confided in.

  In his place was a stranger who regarded her with as much warmth as he would an unsavory insect.

  But can I blame him?

  I should have found the opportunity to tell him about Connor.

  A glance at him through her lashes revealed the purple bruise marring the line his freshly shaven jaw. One eye was puffy and his cheek swollen.

  She winced at this physical evidence of her cowardice. Had she been open and honest could this nightmare situation have been avoided?

  Guilt piled on guilt.

  And Keir had to face Donovans Board.

  "Leave me to worry about Donovans."

  "Why are they so uptight?" This wasn’t the first time she’d sensed the Donovans Board had ridiculously high standards.

  He hesitated so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer.

  "Donovans is a family banking and investment brokerage. They’ve built their business on the base of strong moral and family values," he said in a clipped voice. "As such, they insist on a high standard for their executives and their board. Any scandal impacts on their reputation."

  Victoria swallowed hard. I can't blame him for being less than impressed with me.

  "Why didn't you tell me about Connor that first night I came to your room?" He stood up and walked to the window, standing so still he could have been a carved statue.

  Staring at his rigid back, Victoria slid out of bed, reached for the toweling dressing gown draped over a chair and belted it on. Once in it, she felt more capable of facing this confrontation.

  She walked over the window, willing him to look at her. "Meeting you at Darkhaven gave me one hell of a shock."

  He turned to face her, dark brows drawn together in a forbidding frown. "So?"

  "That night, I'd decided to tell you
about Connor," she said, too aware of her heart's rapid race. "But not while we were guests in your father's house."

  Keir rocked slightly on his heels studying her with devastating intensity. "You didn't know who I was?"

  Victoria swallowed hard, trying to clear the constriction in her throat. Instinctively, she knew her whole future, her son's future, rested on her answer.

  "Had I known, or even guessed at your identity, Keir, I'd have found you before Connor was born," she said, with quiet simplicity. "God knows, I tried hard enough to find Seth Donahue."

  There was slight shift in his stance, so subtle she wondered if she'd imagined it.

  "And later? After that first meeting at Darkhaven?"

  She managed a shaky breath, too aware of the fine tremble in her hands. "Later, I realized I'd made a mistake."

  And why is it, that the wisdom of hindsight is always so darn clear?

  "Too damn right you made a mistake," he said grimly. "And now we both have to live with the consequences."

  What could she say? An apology wouldn’t cut it. "I'm sorry."

  "You're sorry?" He gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Had I known, I could have prevented this whole tasteless debacle."

  She swallowed hard, but the boulder lodged firmly in her throat never shifted. What the heck was in the papers?

  "How bad is it?"

  "The Sunday Inquirer is the first Strathmore paper to hit the news-stands. My guess is the board is far from happy." He opened the door and gave her a grimly amused smile. "I would suggest that you fortify yourself with breakfast first."

  Her anxiety spiked and remembering the scrum at the hospital, she asked, "How can I get in to see Connor?"

  "I’ve made arrangements for you to use a private entrance." He frowned down at his hands. "If you are accosted keep your head down and your lips zipped."

  She nodded, waiting when he hesitated.

  "Don’t speak or interact with the staff unless it directly concerns Connor and his care. And Victoria?"

  She nodded, the hard edge to his voice made her mouth go dry.

  "Remember that anything you say, even the most innocuous comment, will be leaked to the media and misconstrued. Okay?"

  Victoria lowered her head, the beginnings of a headache throbbing behind her temples. This was worse than she feared.