by Shirley Wine
Chapter Seventeen
Victoria hovered by the telephone, uncharacteristically hesitant. She needed to contact her father, but she hated having to do so over the phone. Face-to-face, she knew she would be better able to gauge his reactions, but the media pack outside the front gates made a meeting with him impossible. With an impatient sigh, she punched in the familiar phone number and her call was answered on the third ring.
‘Dad?’
‘Victoria.’ His sharply expelled breath was clearly audible. ‘I’ve been worrying about you. Why haven’t you been in touch? Doesn’t Donovan have a phone in that mausoleum?’
Mausoleum?
She looked around the beautiful sunroom with its magnificent houseplants, willow weave furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows that opened out onto a flagstone terrace, manicured lawns and gardens. Whatever else it was, Keir’s house was certainly no cold and dreary mausoleum. ‘I’m ringing you, aren’t I?’
There was a moment of silence. ‘Stow the sarcasm, girlie, you know damn well his number’s unlisted.’
She looked at the ceiling and rolled her eyes. ‘Why does that surprise you?’
She heard his indrawn breath before he muttered a string of crude obscenities. ‘Didn’t it occur to you that we might want to know if our grandson was still alive? Bloody Donovan’s blocked all information about the boy.’
The criticism lit a fuse under Victoria’s anger. ‘This would be the same grandson you still harp on about me refusing to give away to strangers.’
There was a pregnant pause.
‘There’s no need to take that attitude with me, girlie. You know I’m very fond of Connor.’
She did know, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel too much remorse. ‘After the unprovoked way you slugged Keir, I thought it better to allow time for the dust to settle.’
He gave a non-committal grunt. ‘We’ve been fending off bloody reporters left, right and centre around here.’
‘And whose fault is that?’ Victoria knew as soon as the silky question left her lips that she’d made a mistake.
‘And just what do you mean by that crack?’
‘None of this need ever have happened if I’d received the letter Keir left for me. What happened to it, Dad?’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘How very convenient.’ Her grip on the phone tightened. ‘Keir gave Uncle Tom a letter to give to me. What happened to it?’
His pulsing silence was answer enough. ‘Oh baby,’ Andrew eventually said on a soft sigh.
‘Don’t you dare oh baby me; how could you?’ Her long buried anger and resentment erupted. ‘That letter was meant for me. It was my decision to make if I should contact Keir, and mine alone. And you wonder why he’s angry and suspicious now?’
‘There’s no need to take that tack.’
‘Isn’t there? How would you like someone to make such a life-changing decision for you?’
‘It wasn’t quite that simple. I investigated Donovan—’
‘You read his letter? A letter meant for me?’
‘Of course I read it. I wanted to know why that bastard was so keen to keep in touch with a schoolgirl and …’
Her heart thundered at his ominous pause. ‘And?’
‘He was years older than you, and he had a reputation even then as a hard, ruthless bastard.’
Victoria struggled to equate this description with the kind, caring and often very funny man she’d known that summer, but her father’s description just wouldn’t gel. ‘That doesn’t describe the man I knew.’
‘Grow up, girlie. The man was getting a bit of fanny on the side; of course you only saw his sweet side.’
‘There’s no need to be crude.’
‘Crude! Who’re calling crude?’
‘Was that why you tried to force me into giving Connor up for adoption?’
‘God, Victoria. You have a brilliant mind, and you had that great scholarship and you squandered it all just to bring up some wealthy man’s bastard—’
‘Stop right there, Dad. My son is neither a bastard nor a burden. He’s been worth every sacrifice I’ve ever made, and then some.’
‘You were too young to be sole provider for an infant.’
‘Has it occurred to you that if you’d minded your own business, I would not have had to raise Connor on my own? Or had to sacrifice my schooling?’
‘You’re living in cloud-cuckoo-land. Donovan was already in America and you’re more than a little naive to think he’d have changed his plans for some girl he’d knocked up during a summer fling.’
The brutal words left her winded. She held the phone away from her ear, giving it an incredulous look. She knew her father resented her decision to keep Connor, but this? ‘Don’t judge Keir by your standards, Dad.’
His snort of disgust was loud in her ear.
‘I’ve seen more of the world than you, Victoria. Do you seriously think Donovan would have married you? Filthy rich bastards don’t marry naive schoolgirls, or struggling florists either for that matter.’
Her father’s scathing contempt was as corrosive as acid poured on an open wound.
‘Don’t they? It’s so nice to know you hold such a high opinion of me, Dad. You will be pleased to know that Keir will soon be your son-in-law.’
Her words were greeted with a burst of derisive laughter. ‘So he’s keen to marry you now, is he? It’s bloody easy to see why, girlie, he’ll do anything to keep his precious job, even marry you.’
‘No, you’re so wrong.’ Victoria sucked in a harsh breath, but her instinctive denial did nothing to subdue the niggling doubts. Didn’t she also suspect that Keir had proposed marriage to salvage his position at Donovans?
‘Am I? Time will tell. You ended up hurt years ago, but that’ll look like a walk in the park now, you mark my words.’
Victoria closed her eyes. ‘No worse than the years of hurt I endured thinking I’d been played for a fool? Thinking my son’s father was a myth?’
‘He put you wrong, not me. What sort of scoundrel seduces a schoolgirl?’
‘I was an adult and capable of making my own decisions,’ she said, the hot words tumbling out. ‘Did you know Keir had returned?’
‘I didn’t think it relevant.’
‘You knew,’ she said, slowly shaking her head. ‘Did you also know that Logan was Keir’s stepbrother?’
The strained silence was answer enough.
‘Then surely to God you must have known that our paths would cross.’
‘Says who?’
She took a slow, deep breath and mentally counted to ten. ‘Telling me he’d returned would mean owning up to your duplicity, wouldn’t it?’ She rubbed at gritty eyes as she grappled with angry disappointment. So much now made perfect sense. It was wounding to realise that her father was not only a liar, he was also a coward.
‘It’s so damn easy to be wise with hindsight.’
‘What a cop-out!’ Years of anger and resentment surfaced in a cleansing flood. ‘Without Keir and his compassion, I would never have coped with Mum’s illness. You refused to let me even visit her, if you remember.’
‘I did what I thought was right. I was having a hard time coping myself.’
‘But she was my mother,’ the words came out on a sob, ‘I needed to be with her, too. And you made me stay away.’
A hand descended on her shoulder and she glanced up into Keir’s concerned face, his features fractured through her tears. The receiver was gently removed from her hand and a strong arm drew her close.
She buried her face against his chest, the storm of tears catching her completely off guard. Dimly, she was aware of the deep rumble of his voice under her cheek. Then he scooped her up and sat down on a chair with her in his lap.
‘Hush Victoria, you’ll make yourself ill,’ Keir soothed softly, stroking the head burrowed into his chest.
When the storm abated, he put a handkerchief in her hand and she scrubbed at
her wet cheeks as she said on a hiccup, ‘It’s ridiculous to be so upset now when my mother’s been dead for years.’
‘There’s no timetable for grief.’
‘He had no right to make me stay away.’ The angry words erupted from a festering well of bitterness. ‘I wanted to be with my mum so badly.’
‘I know you did. I thought at the time he was wrong, but it wasn’t my place to interfere.’
She plucked at his sweater, her admission hard to make. ‘Dad did intercept your letter.’
‘I know. I challenged him about it.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
‘Would you have believed me?’
She liked to think she would have, but without her father’s confirmation, she wasn’t so sure. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never had reason not to believe him before.’ She gave him a sober glance. ‘After Connor was born I begged him to see if he could find you. He told me—’
She broke off, unable to continue. Her father had not only withheld Keir’s letter, he’d outright lied to her, and that was something she struggled to forgive.
In the tension-filled silence, Keir moved restlessly and she slipped off his knee.
‘Why didn’t you tell me about Connor at Darkhaven?’
She whirled to face him, filled with fury. ‘Get real! Did you expect me to tell you in that situation?’
‘Had you told me about my son, I would have ended my engagement to Davina and prevented this fiasco. Instead you chose to publicly rub her nose in my infidelity.’
Her anger spiked. How dare he turn this around so she was at fault? ‘You’re conveniently forgetting your avowal that nothing would prevent your marriage to Davina. Even your father was at pains to tell me you never broke a promise.’
‘Had I known about Connor, that’s one promise I would have broken in a heartbeat.’
Victoria stared at him, her anger ebbing. How little he understood her.
‘Do you think I didn’t know that? You expected me to live with the knowledge I’d asked you to break a promise?’ She shook her head sadly. ‘It’s obvious that you don’t know me at all if you think me capable of acting so despicably.’
Victoria studied the photos splashed across the front page of The Clarion. In them, Connor cowered against Keir, and despite the jaunty outfit, she looked tense and nervous, her expression strained.
Lighten up. Anyone in this position would be uneasy.
Victoria knew it was time that she found some way to put a stop to this harassment.
How? She nibbled on an already ragged thumbnail then with a sigh of frustration looked at her hand. She’d given up chewing her nails years ago, and now the ongoing stress had her reverting to the ugly habit. Not even the press release announcing her upcoming marriage to Keir Donovan had eased the pressure, and she was heartily sick of being held prisoner by the media.
Despite his denials, she knew Keir’s position at Donovans was in jeopardy.
I need to put a stop to this, but how?
After weighing her options, she picked up the phone. ‘Logan?’
‘Tori, how are you? We’ve all been so worried. How are things with Keir? How’s he treating you both?’
Victoria winced at the barrage of questions, but she quickly suppressed a pang of guilt.
It wouldn’t hurt Logan to worry; it was no more than he deserved. He’d precipitated this whole hideous situation.
‘We’re fine. I need you to do something for me,’ she said, abrupt to the point of rudeness.
Logan sighed. ‘Will an apology help?’
‘Why didn’t you come straight out and tell me instead of putting both Keir and I in such an impossible situation?’
‘I know, okay. And believe me, Dad’s been on my case, too.’
‘It’s nothing that you don’t deserve.’ There was no way she could mistake his genuine remorse and she softened. ‘I need you to do me a favour.’
‘I’ll do whatever I can to help.’
‘Thanks. Now listen carefully.’ In quick, succinct words, she explained what she wanted him to do. ‘When you’ve set up a meeting, can you text me on this number. And Logan, please don’t divulge that number to anyone or leave a voicemail. Keir thinks a scanner has been set up nearby to hack into our messages.’ She heard footsteps in the corridor outside her door. ‘I have to go. Please don’t mention this to Keir. Promise?’
‘I don’t like this, Tori.’
‘I’ve got to go.’ She hung up just as the door opened and Connor came in. She smiled at him and he bounced across the floor and leapt into her arms.
‘When’s Daddy coming home?’
She chuckled, amazed at how quickly Connor had adapted to life where Keir played an important role.
‘Soon.’ She nuzzled his neck, blowing raspberries until he shrieked and wriggled away from her.
‘I’m hungry.’
‘So what’s new? You’re always hungry.’ She tickled his ribs and when he ran away she ran after him. ‘I’m hungry too. Grrrrrr—’
She made a grab at him, hands outstretched. ‘I eat little boys when I’m hungry.’
Shrieking with terrified delight, Connor sidestepped and darted away. Victoria chased after him. Squealing and dodging her outstretched hands, Connor ran toward the door. It opened and Keir stood there.
‘Daddy! Daddy! Help. Save me from mummy monster!’ Connor leaped at Keir.
‘Whoa there.’ He dropped his briefcase and caught the little boy in his arms.
Unable to stop, Victoria cannoned into Keir and he caught her close with his other arm, his rich, amused chuckle vibrating against her chest. ‘Isn’t this a nice way to greet a man at the end of the day?’
Plastered full-length against him, Victoria was suddenly very short of breath as she looked up into his dark eyes. Keir kissed Connor’s cheek and let him slide to the floor, but he continued to hold her close, trapped by turbulent emotion, which she saw reflected in his dark eyes.
Mesmerised, her gaze fastened on his mouth.
‘Can you ask Mrs T to bring a tea tray in, son?’ he asked softly, ruffling Connor’s hair with his free hand.
As the little boy scampered off to the kitchen, Keir’s hold on her tightened as he lifted her chin and crushed her trembling lips beneath his.
Desire fuelled her fiery response.
Her lips parted and without hesitation he plundered her mouth in a kiss filled with such hunger that her knees went weak and she had to cling to him, her heart beating a frantic tattoo against her ribcage. Desire, molten and intense, made her tremble. His hold tightened fractionally until she was as close as a second skin. Her hands delved into his silky hair and she moulded his scalp with sensitive fingertips.
She needed this more than she needed her next breath.
Keir’s large hand splayed across her back as he pressed her even closer, her softness yielding to his harder male contours.
A slight sound had them pulling apart, but Keir didn’t release her immediately.
‘Now that’s what I call a real welcome home,’ he whispered in her ear, the husky sound sending shivers of sensation up and down her spine.
Unsettled and confused, she buried her face in his neck.
Mrs Teague bustled in with the afternoon tea tray, Connor following in her wake carrying a plate of cupcakes, his little face screwed up as he concentrated on his task.
‘Thanks, Mrs T,’ Keir murmured over the top of Victoria’s head.
The kindly woman was smiling widely as she left.
‘She’s gone,’ Keir whispered in her ear. ‘You can come out of hiding now.’
‘Mrs T let me carry the cakes, Mummy.’ Connor tugged at her skirt. ‘Did you see?’
She lifted her head, smiled at her boy then glanced up at Keir through her lashes. Gone was the dark, brooding stranger, replaced by a wicked, grinning devil who made no attempt to hide his amusement. He released her and she sank onto the sofa, unsure if her legs would hold her.
Wi
th total unconcern he crossed to the tea tray, poured the tea and brought her a cup.
‘Thank you,’ she murmured, a blush heating her cheeks as she glanced up and met his considering gaze.
What was he thinking to cause that expression?
Keir took his cup, walked across to the floor-to-ceiling window and stood staring out. Something in his stance made her think he was contemplating … what? Their future?
He was certainly a good-looking guy.
Any red-blooded woman would get a little hot under the collar at being the centre of his attention, but she’d been living with him for long enough to know that Keir didn’t rush into anything. When he’d brought her to his house, she was so certain she’d end up in his bed at the first available opportunity.
Not so.
Instead, he had ensured she had a bedroom to herself. At first she’d been taken aback, but to her surprise her subsequent reaction was one of overwhelming relief. His consideration had made her rationalise his actions as him being cautious.
But there was nothing cautious about their feverish lovemaking in his office.
Heck, her insides were still scorched from that encounter.
Dressed in a conservative dark suit that made the most of his lean, strong body, and his often unruly hair slicked down, he was a very appealing package.
She muffled a snicker.
Very appealing, my foot, the man is flat out gorgeous.
But it was the wariness and suspicion she so often saw lurking in his eyes that made her uneasy about his silence now.
The click of Connor’s building blocks as he created a Lego construction was the only sound to intrude on the moment. Keir turned to face her and a frisson of nerves goosestepped over her skin.
‘Dad rang me this afternoon,’ he said, his gaze never leaving her face. ‘The Cambridge Breeders Association is hosting a fundraising dinner for Riding for the Disabled tonight.’
Her hand trembled, rattling the cup in its saucer, and her mouth went dry as she was suddenly fearful of where this conversation was going.
Victoria nodded. She’d worked with the Huntly branch of Riding for the Disabled Association when she’d lived at home.
‘I volunteered with the RDA as a teenager,’ she said, sipping her tea.
