Shameless

by Joan Johnston

  Pippa could see that Devon was troubled by Angus’s refusal to deny her father’s statement, which suggested that he wasn’t Angus’s son.

  She tried to meet Devon’s gaze, but it was still focused on his father. She felt her breath catch in her throat as she drew the only conclusion that seemed possible from Angus’s continued refusal to refute her father’s accusation.

  Angus isn’t Devon’s father.

  Chapter 20

  I’m not his son.

  Devon was still reeling from Matt’s revelation, which his father had refused to deny. All his life he’d feared the truth. Now he knew for certain that he was no relation to Angus Flynn. Which meant that his mother, the one he’d killed with his birth, had slept with another man. That certainly explained why his father had treated him differently all his life.

  I’m some other man’s bastard son.

  Devon saw the looks of surprise and horror and disgust as each of his brothers reacted to the suggestion that their mother might have cheated on their father—and that Angus had apparently known about her betrayal. He felt only relief. Now he no longer had to live a lie.

  And yet, with this new knowledge, his life had been irrevocably altered. His heart was pounding and his ears were ringing as though someone had just shot off a gun next to his head. His eyes were watering and his nose stung and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand here without losing it completely.

  Leah suddenly arrived at Eve’s side—apparently unaware of the wreckage Matt had left in his wake—and said to her, “It’s time you stopped playing peacemaker and started enjoying the party.”

  She took the beer out of Connor’s hand, set Eve’s hand in its place, and said, “Go dance with your wife.”

  Connor seemed willing to comply, but he paused long enough to say to Devon, “We’ll discuss this later.”

  “No,” Devon rasped. “We won’t.” His throat ached, and he was afraid that in another moment he wouldn’t be able to speak at all. He reached out and grasped Pippa’s hand, needing something to hang on to so he wouldn’t fly into a million pieces. It was one thing to think he’d grown up with a father who wasn’t related to him. It was another thing to know it.

  He gritted his teeth to stop his chin from quivering, then focused his gaze on Angus and said, “As far as I’m concerned, the subject is closed.” He turned to Pippa and, in a voice that revealed nothing of the turmoil he felt inside, said, “Would you like to dance?”

  She quickly rose, as though she could see the cliff edge on which he was poised, and said, “Yes, I would. Thank you, Devon.”

  Without another word, he and Pippa left his slack-jawed brothers behind at the table. But they never reached the dance floor. Devon knew there was no way he could keep pretending in front of all these people that everything was fine when, in fact, he’d just been struck by a million volts of lightning. He reversed course and headed straight for his truck.

  “Devon, slow down!” Pippa said, tugging against his grasp on her hand. “I can’t keep up with you.”

  He realized he was almost running and forced himself to relax his pace.

  “Are you all right?” she asked.

  “Hunky-dory,” he said through tight jaws.

  “What if my father made it all up? What if he doesn’t know what he’s talking about?”

  “He knows, all right.”

  She frowned up at him. “You believed him? What makes you so sure he’s right?”

  Devon avoided the question, just kept moving toward his truck, pulling her along behind him.

  “Devon, talk to me!”

  He stopped and released his grasp on her hand, then balled his hands into fists because he didn’t want her to see how badly they were shaking. “How did your father find out I’m not Angus’s son?”

  “I have no idea. I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s something he made up to piss you off so you’d throw me out.”

  “My father didn’t contradict him.”

  “He shouldn’t have to,” Pippa said. “Why would you even consider such an outlandish suggestion?”

  Devon met her gaze and said in a harsh voice, “I’ve told you why. I’m not like the rest of them. Angus doesn’t treat me the same way as he does my brothers.” He swallowed over the painful knot in his throat as he realized that Aiden and Brian and Connor were actually his half brothers. “I’ve never felt like I belonged.”

  “Maybe it’s because you’re the youngest, and you never knew your mother.”

  “Maybe it’s because I had a different father,” he replied curtly.

  Pippa’s eyes looked as troubled as he felt. She didn’t speak, just unballed one of his fists so she could take his hand in hers again. “Let’s go home. Wulf will be hungry.”

  Devon huffed out a breath, then glanced over his shoulders at the table where the rest of his family sat. He didn’t want to discuss his mother’s affair with his brothers. He wasn’t particularly interested in discussing it with his “father,” either, except to force Angus to admit that that he’d been prejudiced against Devon all his life.

  He was aware of Pippa’s firm grip on his hand, keeping him grounded, keeping him in the here and now, but his mind was a jumble of thoughts. Who was his father? How had his mother met the man? Why had she engaged in an affair with him?

  His mother had always been a mysterious figure in his life, but he was realizing just how little he really knew about her. Why had she stayed with Angus when she knew she was going to bear another man’s child? Had she, perhaps, not known?

  And why had Angus raised him, if he’d been so sure that Devon was another man’s child. Did his biological father know of his existence? Was he out there somewhere? Might he want to meet Devon if he knew he had a grown son?

  More importantly, do I want to meet him? I don’t know. He’s nothing to me. He just provided the seed. What kind of man was he to have an affair with a married woman and then walk away without looking back?

  Devon wondered just how much Angus knew, and whether he would tell Devon everything he did know if he asked. Was Angus certain who Devon’s biological father was? If so, what had kept Angus from divorcing Devon’s mother? And then Devon realized that divorce might have come later—if she’d lived.

  Devon wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answers to all of his questions. That didn’t keep them from replaying endlessly in his mind, crashing around like an avalanche of boulders and causing his head to ache.

  Devon realized that having Pippa stay with him—now that they weren’t even distantly related—had become infinitely more complicated. But his feelings for her hadn’t changed. Now, more than ever, he wanted someone in his life who loved him for who he was, someone whom he could love in return, someone he could rely on in his suddenly tumultuous life.

  “Do you still want to stay at my place after what happened between me and your dad today?”

  She shot him a curious look. “Do you mean because we’re not technically second cousins anymore? I liked you before my father’s revelation—and I like you now.”

  “But who is it you like?” he said bitterly. “Who am I now?”

  She put her fingertips on his lips to silence him. “You’re the same kind, stong man you’ve always been. Having a different biological father doesn’t change who you are.”

  She caressed his cheek as she looked deep into his eyes. “I can’t imagine how I’d feel in your shoes. It must be…” She paused, frowned as she apparently searched for the right word, and finally said, “Upsetting, to say the least.”

  “Upsetting? Try life altering.”

  “You’re missing the point,” she said. “This revelation doesn’t have to change how you live your life.”

  He made a sound in his throat but didn’t contradict her.

  “To prove my point, if you’re willing for me to stay—in spite of how badly my dad acted toward you—I’d like to hang around a little longer.”

  “That sounds good to me,” Devon sai
d, kissing her fingertips and then taking her hand in his. “You’re the one person in my life I can trust to be straight with me.”

  Devon watched a shadow cross Pippa’s eyes. She opened her mouth to speak and then clamped it shut again. He wondered what it was she’d wanted to say. Something sympathetic? He didn’t want her sympathy. Or her pity. He wanted her love. It was a relief to know she was going to be around so he could earn it.

  Pippa sighed.

  “Are you all right?” he asked, his lips quirking.

  “I wish…” She let the words hang in the air.

  “Yeah,” Devon said, understanding how she could have second thoughts and regrets and wish she’d done things in her life differently, because he felt the same way himself. “So do I.”

  Pippa smiled and reached out to brush his forearm with her other hand in a gesture of friendship. “Thanks, Devon.”

  “For what?”

  “For being you. And for putting up with me.”

  They’d reached his pickup, and he opened her door for her and helped her inside before crossing around the front of the truck and getting behind the wheel. “Believe it or not,” he said as he buckled up, “once upon a time, I had to run away from home, too.”

  “Really?”

  He surprised himself by smiling at the memory. “Angus had a fit when he found out I’d bought my ranch in the mountains. He told me I was crazy to live so isolated from other people. Told me I was just like—” He paused, struck suddenly by what his father’s speech had revealed, something he hadn’t understood at the time. “Angus cut himself off before he finished that sentence. He never said who I was just like.” Devon’s mouth flattened. “It must be him I’m like. My biological father.”

  He pounded the steering wheel. “Damn it! If Angus thinks I’m like him, it’s because he knew my father. How could my mother have done something like that? She had Aiden and Brian and Connor one after the other and then, two years later, she had me. What the hell happened between my parents in those two years?”

  “Maybe you should find your father—your biological father—and ask him.”

  Devon rejected the idea with a disgusted sound. “That man is nothing to me.”

  “Except it seems you’re a great deal like him.”

  “How did we get on this subject?” Devon said irritably.

  “We were wishing things could be different.”

  The silence between them grew oppressive. Pippa broke it by asking, “Do you think Angus has really figured out a way to ruin King?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  Rather than snapping back at him, Pippa pressed her lips flat and turned to stare out the window.

  Devon realized she had a very good reason for wanting to know whether King’s empire was about to go belly-up. He chuffed out a breath of air and said, “Yeah, Angus might have figured out a way to do it. If he felt confident enough to talk about the trap he’s set, it’s a pretty good bet there’s no way King can wriggle out of it. You’re right to worry. Your dad might have come all this way for nothing. King might end up losing everything—including the ranch he promised to your father.”

  Pippa’s head snapped back around. “You’re kidding, right?”

  Devon shot her a sideways look. “Angus has been pretty closemouthed about when the ax will fall, but he’s been gloating that the day is coming when he’ll finally have his revenge for his sister’s death.”

  “Isn’t there something King can do, or my father, to stop him?”

  Devon shook his head. “I doubt it.”

  “What about my dad? He left everything behind to come here. What’s he supposed to do?”

  “I don’t have an answer for that.”

  Pippa laid a beseeching hand on Devon’s arm. “Is there any way we can find out exactly what Angus is planning?”

  “What would you do with the information?”

  “Tell my father, of course. So he can stop him.”

  He arched a brow. “You’ve run away from your dad, but you still want to help him?”

  “He’s my father. Despite…everything…I love him.”

  Devon dropped his hat on the bench seat between them and shoved a hand through his hair, leaving it askew. “I don’t know, Pippa. I don’t agree with what Angus is doing, but he’s my father and—” Devon cut himself off. A muscle worked in his jaw. Angus wasn’t his father. He’d made that clear all Devon’s life. He didn’t owe Angus Flynn a damned thing.

  “All right,” he said. “Let’s do it. I’ve never supported Angus’s desire for revenge. Let me see what I can find out.”

  Chapter 21

  MATT HAD LOST hope that Pippa would come to her senses and return home. His unwed, pregnant daughter was no longer willing to listen to him. She needed the advice and counsel of her mother, which meant the sooner he got in touch with Jennifer Fairchild Hart, the better. His heart jumped at the thought of seeing the woman he’d loved since he was sixteen.

  He had the best reason in the world—as though he needed an excuse—to contact her. However, in order to ask for Jennie’s help, he would have to admit that he’d stolen their daughter and fled to Australia, keeping Pippa’s existence a secret from her for twenty years.

  By sunset on the day of the barbecue, he’d made the decision to head to Texas the next morning to speak with Jennie in person. His stomach did a somersault when he thought of what she might say, what she might do, when she realized the choice he’d made all those years ago. What if she refused to meet with him, to speak with him? He’d never really fallen out of love with her, probably because he’d never been allowed to say goodbye. Was that all they would do? Say hello…and then goodbye?

  Matt wanted so badly to have another chance with the woman who’d been the love of his life that his heart physically hurt whenever he thought of holding her in his arms. There had been years when he was free, but she was not. She’d been a widow for a year now, and he’d known that if he didn’t reach for what he wanted, she would likely find someone else to love, and he would lose his chance.

  And yet, he’d been in Wyoming for more than two months and he hadn’t called, he hadn’t written, he hadn’t made the trip to Texas. He simply couldn’t believe that, after all the loneliness and pain he’d suffered, and all the loneliness and pain he’d caused, fate would allow him to have his heart’s desire.

  He stopped halfway to the house and turned to King. “I need to leave the ranch for a few days.”

  “You can’t go anywhere,” King replied.

  “Why not?”

  “You heard what Angus said. That yellow-bellied cur finally has his knobby fingers around my throat, and I need you here when I talk to my banker and my investors this week.”

  “Investors?” Matt frowned. “In what?”

  “A quarter-million acres of grassland I purchased in Brazil.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “I mortgaged Kingdom Come to buy it.”

  “Sonofabitch! You should have told me you were in way over your head when we spoke in Australia. You signed a contract with me that stipulated—”

  “Don’t raise your voice to me.”

  Matt bit his tongue.

  “The ranch will be yours,” King continued. “Angus may think he can turn the screws and squeeze me out. But I’m not done fighting yet.”

  “What the hell were you thinking? A quarter-million acres? In Brazil?”

  “I was planning to start a cattle operation, but the currency down there hasn’t exactly been stable.” He hesitated and said, “Then I had that cancer scare, and I put things on hold.”

  Matt halted in his tracks. “You have cancer?”

  “It’s in remission.”

  Matt eyed his father. He had mixed feelings hearing that King had been sick. He’d made a point of cutting his father completely out of his life. He wondered how he would have felt if he’d come home on his own someday and found King dead and gone. Would he have re
gretted missing the chance to confront him?

  But his father looked hale and hearty now, and there were past transgressions he needed to atone for.

  What other surprises—besides an astronomical mortgage—were out there waiting to ambush him? “What, exactly, is the problem with the land in Brazil?”

  “The South American banker who made the loan cut off my credit. He wants his money.” His eyes narrowed and his mouth flattened. “I don’t know how Angus did it, but you can bet he was the one who convinced him not to give me an extension on the loan.”

  Matt’s stomach churned. He’d known his father would cheat him in the end. He just hadn’t expected King to be going down along with him. Disgusted, he asked, “What is it I need to be here to do?”

  Matt was only half listening to King’s convoluted explanation of his role in the upcoming negotiations, but it was obvious that he needed to be there. “Fine,” he said, cutting him off. “If you’ll excuse me, I have a call to make.”

  Matt had used the call as an excuse to get away before he said something he would regret. But as he headed for his room, he realized that he couldn’t wait even another day to contact Jennie. Pippa’s situation wasn’t something that could be put on hold. She wasn’t getting any less pregnant.

  Matt had too many bad memories from Jennie’s precarious pregnancy to believe that nothing bad could happen to his daughter. The longer he waited, the longer Pippa would be in danger if some mishap occurred on Devon Flynn’s isolated mountain ranch, where medical help might not arrive in time. He hoped Jennie could provide the lever that would bring Pippa home.

  He went to his bedroom and closed the door, then sat down on a chair near the bed with the phone in his hand, his elbows on his knees, his head down, aware that his heart was hammering a mile a minute and that he was having trouble catching his breath.

  What if Jennie wouldn’t take his call? What if she still blamed him, all these years later, for the supposed death of their child? He’d kept track of her over the years, yet he’d never called her. Had she ever wondered where he was? Had she ever hoped that they would see each other again?