by Shirley Wine
Tell Me No Lies
Shirley Wine
www.escapepublishing.com.au
Tell Me No Lies
Shirley Wine
A brand new rural romance trilogy from a brand new voice: Shirley Wine introduces you to the secrets and scandals of Darkhaven…
For single mum Victoria Scanlan a visit to the luxurious country house of Darkhaven is a rare chance to combine work with pleasure. Securing the commission for The Wedding Of The Year will guarantee the ongoing success of her floral boutique and secure her the stability she needs for both herself and her son.
But Darkhaven comes with a shocking guest – the groom is Seth Donahue. Her young son’s father. The man who has no idea he has a child. The man she can’t forget.
After a lifetime of betrayal by every woman in his life, Keir Donovan has settled on a calm future with the glamorous heiress Davina Strathmore. She is everything Keir needs in a life partner: confident, poised, elegant, attractive, and aware that this marriage isn’t about love. But when Victoria walks back in his life, his future suddenly doesn’t seem quite so well defined.
Keir’s passion for Victoria still burns as strongly as ever, but it’s clear she’s keeping secrets: and after a lifetime of deception, Keir has no tolerance for lies.
About the Author
Shirley Wine is from a large family where oral storytelling was encouraged, a throwback to her family’s Irish roots.
Born into a farming family, she has lived and worked on the land alongside her husband for many years, and a love of the land runs as deep as the blood in her veins so writing rural romance was a natural progression for this author. Shirley is no stranger to devastating personal tragedy, and these experiences are reflected in her often gritty stories about triumph over adversity.
For many years, Shirley was a freelance writer with a regular ‘Country Comment’ column in a New Zealand national daily newspaper, and she has worked on local and regional newspapers. A long-time member of Romance Writers of New Zealand, Shirley is now retired and lives with her husband in a quiet rural Waikato town with one spoiled cat and two equally spoiled dogs.
If you’d like to sign up for Shirley’s author newsletter you can do so on her website: www.shirleywine.com
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank Pamela Gervais for sharing her knowledge of the Italian pizzicato style of playing string instruments and for suggesting a name for The Tin Roof Toms, and Susanne Bellamy for suggesting ways to soften Keir into a hero to dream about. I’d like to also thank all my Facebook friends, too numerous to name here, for their many and varied helpful suggestions as to how my heroine should deflect the other woman’s malice. Victoria grew as character from these suggestions and developed a sense of humour.
For my late father Jim Molony (1912–1984)
You taught me to dream, to reach for the stars, to have faith in myself, and that to err is human; to forgive, divine. It’s been a tough journey, Dad, but I’ve finally reached that goal. I love and miss you so much.
Contents
About the Author
Acknowledgements
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing…
Chapter One
Victoria Scanlan leaned back against the headrest, eyes closed, her toes tapping in time to the rhythmic beat of an African quartet’s jazzed up version of a classic that belted out from the car’s stereo system.
The subtle scent of leather, Logan’s spicy cologne and the music eased the tension of her hectic day. She’d closed her florist shop in Cambridge later than usual after a flurry of last-minute customers.
She was always busy, but today had been brutal.
It was the beginning of the long weekend celebrating the Queen’s Birthday, which heralded the first days of winter Down Under. Tonight, as Victoria was trying to close up shop so she could get away for the holiday weekend too, demanding customers had still expected her to make up special floral arrangements for them, when all she’d wanted was to be gone.
God, she needed this break.
Three blissful days.
No telephone. No demanding clients. No five-year-old to entertain. No housework and best of all, no cooking.
‘This sure as heck beats listening to Connor’s music,’ she murmured.
‘No kidding.’ Logan Sinclair tapped his fingers to the beat on the steering wheel. ‘I know you love that little tyke, but don’t you ever crave some real freedom, Tori, after five years of single parenting?’
Startled, she frowned as she tried to read his expression in the car’s dim interior. ‘Freedom from Connor?’
‘I didn’t mean that exactly.’
Eyes wide, Victoria jerked upright and half turned in the seat to better see him. ‘Then what exactly did you mean?’
‘You work too hard.’ He glanced her way and she inhaled a shaken breath as she saw his grim expression. ‘After a full day at Victorian Grace you come home to housework and being Connor’s mum, and when he’s in bed, you work on the shop’s books. Where in this workload is your time?’
Victoria shrugged away the intrusive question. ‘That’s just the way it is.’
‘What I’d like to know is, where’s your boy’s father in all of this? While you’re working your tail off, what’s he doing?’
This was an old argument and Victoria was more than a little disturbed that Logan was resurrecting it now. Her thriving floristry boutique gave her a very precious independence, but nothing was more important to her than her son. Nor was her relationship with Connor’s father any of Logan’s business.
The barbed question stirred old memories that still held the power to hurt.
‘I’ve told you countless times that Connor’s father is out of our lives,’ she said, hanging onto her patience by a thread, irritated by the innuendo. ‘And let me remind you that Victorian Grace provides for both me and my son.’
‘It’s not right.’
‘Maybe, but it’s old history.’ She glanced at his profile but found it difficult to discern his expression. ‘Let it go, Logan. Don’t make me regret accepting this invitation.’
‘If you married me, you would never need to work,’ he muttered.
Victoria sighed softly. Marriage to Logan would merely exchange one yoke for another. She could never marry a man she didn’t love. ‘I value your friendship—’
‘—but you don’t love me. I know. You prefer to work like a galley slave. Even here, for a rare weekend off, you’ve brought work.’
Logan’s complaints made all the niggling misgivings she had over accepting this invitation to spend the weekend at Darkhaven with his family rise to the surface.
‘Listen up, Logan Sinclair. You suggested I bring my portfolio, and you paved the way for me to make this presentation to the bride and your mother.’
But I only agreed because this visit gives me a chance to present my credentials and portfolio to his stepbrother’s bride.
Victoria tried to push aside the uncomfortable thought, but it remained persistent. She knew that if Victorian Grace could secure the commission for the flowers for the Donovan-Strathmore spring wedd
ing, her business would boom. And, despite her aggravation with Logan, this was one tantalising and exciting prospect.
Keir Donovan, Logan’s stepbrother, had recently returned from America to take up the position of CEO at Donovans, the family’s banking firm. His engagement to Davina Strathmore, daughter of media mogul James Strathmore, had set the gossip mill buzzing. Although the millionaire was somewhat reclusive and she’d yet to catch a glimpse of him, Victoria was certain a wedding that united two such prominent and wealthy families would be the highlight of Cambridge’s social season.
And I’d be a fool not to grab the chance to be a part of the action.
Now, Logan’s complaints made her jittery and feel more than a little guilty. Was she presuming on their friendship, using him to gain entry into a world otherwise closed to her?
The Donovans were old money and big landholders in New Zealand’s rich Waikato hinterland. And Victoria had never mingled in their elite social circle.
As Logan drove through the imposing pillars that marked the entrance to Darkhaven and up a wide, sweeping drive, Victoria’s jitters escalated. The car’s headlights illuminated ghostly shapes of shrubberies and flowerbeds and although she strained to see, Victoria only caught tantalising glimpses through the wreaths of mist settling across the land on this early winter’s evening. June in the Waikato brought mild days that would soon give way to rain, frosts and freezing fogs.
Logan parked beneath the portico, came around to open her door and extended a hand to assist her from the car. The overhead lights slanted over his high cheekbones and the sharp blade of his nose. Logan was charming, personable and very attentive. And Lord knows, he’d asked her to marry him more than once.
Was she a fool not to take what he was offering?
She sighed softly. Logan may be the best friend she’d ever had, but there was no spark and certainly no soul-scorching passion.
Now Seth … memory shivered through her. Just looking at Seth was akin to being hot-wired, and this was a heady sensation.
Victoria shoved the troubling thought back in her closet of unfulfilled dreams, a closet damn near bursting at the seams.
Seth was a mirage, a deceiver, my girl, whispered an uncomfortably honest inner voice. But my Seth was the lover of every woman’s dreams, and he’s the measure by which I’ve judged every other man.
Victoria was practical; life had forced her to be.
And while she accepted that time may have embellished her memory of Connor’s father, she refused to settle for less than she’d shared with Seth Donahue, a passion that shook her to her soul.
While Logan retrieved her suitcase and satchel from the car boot, and handed the parking valet his keys, she took stock of her surroundings. Ground lights illuminated neatly-trimmed box hedges, which were interspersed with topiaries and white flowered standard roses. Sweetly scented white nicotiana was still blooming, releasing its intoxicating perfume on the cool evening air.
She inhaled appreciatively.
As they walked side by side up the wide half-moon steps, she was far too aware of her heart’s uncomfortably fast beat and her bone-dry mouth. With a nervous hand, she smoothed the severely tailored skirt of her business suit.
Is it too formal, or should I have opted for something more casual?
The impressive oak door opened and a short, rotund man, impeccably attired in a dark suit, white shirt and black bow tie stood in the opening. The Donovans had a butler?
Seeing his formal dress, Victoria eased out a soft, relieved breath.
‘Good evening, Wilkins, where’s the family?’ Logan handed the man her suitcase.
‘They’ve assembled in the Ruby Lounge.’ Wilkins held out a hand for her satchel.
More than a little reluctant, Victoria surrendered the satchel that held her livelihood to the starchy little man, watching nervously as he placed both cases neatly beside an antique buhl table topped with an elaborate floral arrangement.
Victoria blinked, took a step closer and looked again—yes, those were silk flowers. Her nerves settled. The use of artificial flowers was so, well, artificial.
‘Which room has Mother given Victoria?’
Logan’s question pulled her attention from the flowers.
‘She’s been allocated the Emerald Suite.’
Logan stiffened and his pale eyes narrowed. ‘Is Mother afraid I’ll walk in the night?’
The acidic question made Victoria blink in consternation, but the butler didn’t so much as bat an eyelid. Instead he turned on an immaculately shod heel and preceded them down a wide corridor.
‘What was all that about?’ Victoria asked in a hushed whisper, too anxious to notice more than the blur of opulence.
‘The Emerald Suite is next door to the suite Keir uses on his rare visits here. And that’s about as far away from everyone else as it’s possible to get.’
‘Why should this concern me?’
‘Since returning from the States, my stepbrother has been very intimidating. Don’t let him get to you.’ Logan paused, frowning. ‘And being older than me, Keir’s always been more than a little protective.’
‘Why should you need protecting from me?’ She stopped and stared at Logan, apprehension giving her voice a sharp edge. ‘I’m here to present my portfolio to his bride, not seduce you.’
Logan flushed and turned away, but his guilty expression had her catching his arm, her fingers digging into hard muscle as she asked in a harsh whisper, ‘What’s going on, Logan?’
He smiled, but the cajoling gesture did little to alleviate her anxiety. ‘I told them you were more than a friend, Tori.’
Anger and apprehension knotted in her belly. ‘You did what?’
A dull flush suffused his face. ‘You know darn well I want to move past being just friends.’
‘Friends don’t drop each other into situations like this,’ she whispered, her pulse racing.
Wilkins opened a panelled door and announced them. It was too late to back out, and with no option but to brazen it out, Victoria lifted her chin and pasted on a phoney smile. Just wait until we’re alone, Logan Sinclair …
They crossed a huge room, artfully lit to create pockets of light and shadow, the rich dark red of the walls seeming to shrink the space and add to the sense of oppressive gloom.
Victoria focused her attention on the elegant blonde whose hair she suspected owed more to a hairdresser than nature, and the man at her side. With a sick, sinking sensation Victoria recognised the woman’s veiled hostility, and any thought of a relaxed weekend evaporated like mist before the sun.
‘Mother, my friend Victoria Scanlan,’ Logan drew her forward, ‘my mother, Muriel Donovan.’
‘Welcome to Darkhaven.’
The limpid touch of Muriel’s fingers as they brushed Victoria’s outstretched hand made her shiver. The hint of steel in the woman’s soft voice was warning enough for Victoria not to underestimate Logan’s mother.
Logan turned toward the man. ‘My stepfather, Caine.’
‘Welcome, Victoria.’ Caine smiled, his eyes alight with genuine warmth. He was tall and tanned, and his dark hair was liberally sprinkled with silver. As he gripped her hand in his calloused one with whipcord strength, and she looked into his shrewd, dark eyes, Victoria was surprised by an odd sense of familiarity.
Yet she knew they’d never met.
Caine Donovan was certainly not a man she would ever forget meeting.
‘It was so kind of you to invite me. Logan’s told me so much about you,’ she said hastily, aware she was staring.
‘Has he? Do I need to be wary?’
Flustered, Victoria felt her cheeks heat. ‘No, Logan’s said only good things.’
Caine winked, giving a delighted chuckle as he squeezed her hand. ‘I look forward to knowing you better. You haven’t met my son, Keir?’
Caine turned toward a man standing in the shadows, almost hidden by another towering floral arrangement, so still Victoria hadn’t even known th
ere was another person in the room.
As he stepped into the light, she gasped and her heart stopped beating, her breathing suspended as she tumbled through endless black space.
A strong, warm hand enveloped her outstretched one, which was frozen in mid-movement. ‘Victoria, it’s been a long time.’
‘Seth!’ The strangled word scraped past her vocal cords frozen in shock.
Chapter Two
Shock pulsed through Victoria’s bloodstream. Suddenly light-headed, she clung to Seth’s hand as her knees turned to rubber, threatening to give way and dump her at his feet.
His dark eyes narrowed, the generous lips compressed to a grim line and he strengthened his grip, catching her other hand fluttering helplessly like a wounded bird. The concern that darkened his eyes reached right inside her, steadying her.
‘Seth?’
She heard Caine’s question as if it was muffled by water. One hunted glance in his direction was enough for her to grasp his bewilderment. She took a quick, shallow breath, and then another, but this did nothing to stop the hollow sound of blood drumming in her ears.
‘It’s a private joke, Dad.’
Seth’s deep voice pierced her numbness. Some joke!
That closet door jerked wide open as she struggled for a rational explanation, but coherent thought was impossible.
You’re clever, Mummy. Why can’t you find my daddy? Her little boy’s hopeful words pierced Victoria’s cottonwool brain.
My son!
Keir Donovan is my Seth, my son’s father?
Ohmigod!
A chasm opened at her feet, and Victoria looked into the black abyss and knew she teetered on the edge of disaster. One false step …
‘Do you two know each other?’ Logan looked from her to his stepbrother, his brows drawn together in an ominous frown.
The grip on her hands tightened and she grasped Keir’s unspoken warning. The instinctive response to him after all these years left Victoria even more shattered. Oh God! I’m on such treacherous ground.
