‘Uncle Seamus should have been here.’ She spoke her thoughts out loud, her voice sounding strangely hollow in the silence.
Falkner’s mouth tightened. ‘He should have been, yes.’
Skye turned to him with pained eyes. ‘He’s my father’s only other living relative.’
Falkner snorted. ‘A good example of “you can choose your friends but you can’t choose your relatives”!’
Her uncle Seamus really hadn’t made a good impression on Falkner when he’d visited Ireland the weekend before. Which was a pity, because Uncle Seamus was her only living relative now.
She fell silent again, remaining so during the rest of the drive, her hand tightly gripped in Falkner’s as he fought his way through the reporters waiting at the church, that hand remaining in his through the nightmare of the service.
And beyond.
‘When will it stop, Falkner?’ She finally broke down once they had returned to the house two hours later, her father laid to rest beside her mother, a woman Skye had never known, but the woman her father had continued to love until his own death. ‘When will they leave me alone?’ The reporters had dogged them as they’d come out of the church and back to the house.
‘We’ll wait for you in the conservatory,’ Belinda murmured softly to Falkner, her arm linked with her husband, Charles’s, as they left Skye and Falkner alone in the sitting-room.
Falkner took Skye gently into his arms, cradling her head against his shoulder. ‘No one is going to hurt you while I’m around, Skye,’ he assured her huskily.
But he wouldn’t always be around, at some stage she had to take up the reins of a life for herself. Would those story-hungry reporters still be lying in wait for her even then? Her father’s life had been in ruins before he’d died; wasn’t that enough?
Falkner drew in a deep breath at her silence. ‘Skye, there are some things I have to tell you, to ask you—’
‘Falkner, I’m really sorry to interrupt you,’ Belinda cut in with obvious reluctance. ‘But the lawyer has arrived.’
Skye looked up sharply. ‘I can’t do this now, Falkner,’ she pleaded, her eyes swimming with tears. ‘I just can’t!’
‘Of course she can’t,’ Belinda protested con cernedly as she came further into the room to take Skye into her own arms. ‘He’ll have to come back another time,’ she told her brother firmly. ‘What Skye needs right now is peace and quiet, to be surrounded by the people who care about her.’
The problem with that was that Skye didn’t seem to have any people to care about her: her father was dead, her uncle Seamus still in hospital. Oh, she knew that Falkner, and his family, had been kind to her, and she appreciated it, but that would all come to an end soon.
She had never felt so alone, so utterly bereft—
‘You deal with it, will you, Belinda?’ Falkner told his sister distractedly, his worried gaze fixed on Skye as she walked zombie-like across the room to stare unseeingly out of the window.
‘Of course,’ Belinda assured briskly. ‘But, Falkner—’
‘I know, Lindy,’ he sighed heavily.
Skye was barely aware of Falkner and Belinda, that feeling of floating, of not quite being there, intensifying as she looked in on the bleakness of her life.
She would stay until after the funeral, she had told Falkner when she’d first come home with him. Well, that was now. So what did she do? Where did she go? Ireland seemed the most sensible—only?—place to go. But, as Falkner had already pointed out, what was really there for her? Her uncle Seamus might need her for a short time when he came out of hospital, but even that would only be delaying the inevitable; she had to find a job, some way of supporting herself.
Worst of all, when she left here she wouldn’t see Falkner again!
‘Skye…?’ He came up behind her now, his hands moving up to lightly clasp the tops of her arms.
She swallowed hard, fighting the desire she had to turn and throw herself into his arms; that would just embarrass both of them! ‘I don’t care what any of them say, my father was a good man,’ she told him defiantly.
‘Yes, he was,’ Falkner confirmed huskily.
She glanced at him frowningly. ‘Why is it that you believe that and no one else does?’ She looked up at him imploringly.
He shrugged. ‘Probably because they didn’t know your father like we did,’ he murmured softly.
‘Oh, Falkner!’ she groaned emotionally, almost collapsing against him as she felt him take her gently into his arms, her head resting against his shoulder as he lightly caressed the hair at her nape.
‘It will get better, Skye,’ he told her reassuringly. ‘Right now everything looks very—dark—’ he sighed ‘—but it will get better,’ he repeated firmly.
She looked up at him with tear-wet eyes. ‘Will it?’
‘It has to.’ Falkner nodded, kissing her lightly on her brow. ‘When you reach the bottom the only way to go is up!’ he added ruefully.
‘You think?’ she choked.
‘I know it,’ he assured her with feeling. ‘Skye, you’re young, and beautiful, and you deserve the best that life can give you.’
He was the best thing that life could ever give her, but she very much doubted he would ever be hers.
She moved slightly away from him, needing to put a little space between them—before she completely disgraced herself! ‘Those reporters out there—they’re like hounds baying when they scent their prey. What’s wrong with them?’ she added disgustedly.
Falkner drew in a sharp breath. ‘Skye, there are some things you don’t know—’
She gave a shaky laugh. ‘Falkner, the length and breadth of what I don’t know would reach from here to—’
‘Not those sort of things,’ he humoured her lightly. ‘Skye, let’s sit down, hmm?’ he encouraged as he moved away from her. ‘I need to talk to you. And I think I can do that better if you sit there and I sit over here,’ he added self-derisively.
Skye eyed him frowningly as she moved to sit in the chair he indicated across the fireplace from the one he chose to sit in, crossing one silky knee over the other, her hands laced primly together in the lap of her skirt. She felt like a schoolgirl waiting for a reprimand from the headmaster!
Except, she had no idea what she had done…
‘Yes?’ she prompted when Falkner seemed to be having a little difficulty putting his thoughts into words.
An unusual circumstance in itself; she had never known Falkner at a loss for words before!
Looking at him, she could see that the last few days hadn’t been easy ones for him, either. There were dark shadows under his eyes, lines grooved into his cheeks beside his grimly set mouth, a wariness about him that she was pretty sure wasn’t his usual demeanour.
‘You may as well tell me, Falkner,’ she encouraged heavily. ‘If not, I’m only going to imagine the worst!’ If there could be anything worse than these last two weeks!
‘Okay!’ He gave a humourless smile. ‘Skye, I—I want you to give some thought to the idea of marrying me.’
She didn’t move, didn’t so much as blink, merely continued to look at him. Whatever she had been expecting him to say, it certainly wasn’t this!
Had Falkner really just asked her to marry him? Heaven knew she had thought of being his wife any amount of times these last six years, of having him in love with her, of telling him how much she loved him. But that wasn’t quite what Falkner had said, was it…?
He had asked her to ‘give some thought to the idea of marrying him’, which was something else entirely.
‘For goodness’ sake say something, Skye!’ he finally muttered derisively.
She drew in a shaky breath. ‘Why?’
He blinked. ‘Why say something? Or why—?’
‘Why should I give some thought to the idea of marrying you?’ she corrected impatiently, sure that he already knew exactly what she had meant. But he was delaying answering her. Why?
He stood up impatiently, thrustin
g his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘Why not?’ he rasped harshly. ‘Oh, I’ll admit, I’m probably not quite your idea of the ideal husband. I’m too old for you, for one thing, and the accident three years ago pretty well shattered one of my legs, but I am rich, rich enough to take care of you, and—’
‘Stop right there!’ Skye ordered forcefully as she too stood up, more and more convinced that there was something dreadfully wrong about Falkner’s marriage proposal; it had no declaration of love to accompany it, for one thing…! ‘Falkner, what is going on? Why are you asking me to marry you?’ She stared at him with compelling eyes.
He raised dark brows. ‘You don’t think it’s because you’re a beautiful young woman—’
‘No, I don’t,’ she cut in forcefully. ‘Nor do I think that it’s because you’ve fallen madly in love with me,’ she dismissed scathingly.
He grimaced. ‘I knew I should have got down on the customary one knee—but I thought it might be embarrassing, for both of us, when I wasn’t able to get up again!’
Skye didn’t return his self-derisive smile, sure that he was just delaying answering her.
She would be lying if she didn’t acknowledge that when Falkner had first mentioned the word marriage, her heart had leapt hopefully, but there had been nothing in his demeanour then, or now, that gave any indication he had proposed to her because he was in love with her. So why was he asking her to marry him…?
She gave an impatient shake of her head. ‘Something else is going on here, Falkner—and I think it’s time you told me what it is!’
She had sensed all along that there was something odd about the way Falkner had turned up at the hospital in the way he had, whisking her off to his home the last five days, even more strangely, brought Storm over from Ireland. But his marriage proposal, coming completely out of the blue like this, had to be the strangest thing he had done so far.
Skye looked at Falkner expectantly as he drew in a ragged breath, hardly able to contain her impatience when his gaze moved past her to his sister as she appeared hesitantly in the doorway.
‘I’m really sorry to interrupt the two of you again.’ Belinda grimaced sheepishly. ‘I’ve dealt with the lawyer.’ She spoke directly to her brother. ‘Now I’m afraid Charles and I will have to be going.’ She gave Skye an apologetic smile. ‘Charles’s mother has been looking after the kids since she collected them from school, but she isn’t too well at the moment, so I don’t like to leave them with her for too long.’
‘I appreciate you and Charles being here at all, Belinda,’ Skye assured the older woman, crossing the room to give Belinda a brief hug. ‘You’ve both been wonderful this last few days,’ she added huskily; she had met Charles for the first time yesterday evening, when he and Belinda had joined them for dinner.
‘I was glad to be of help,’ Belinda told her warmly. ‘Don’t bother to see us out; we’ll give you a call later this evening, Falkner.’ She moved to kiss her brother lightly on the cheek.
The silence in the room was electric once Belinda had gone, the tension between Skye and Falkner so high the very air seemed to crackle with it.
‘Falkner?’ Skye finally snapped when she could take the silence no longer. ‘Would you like to tell me now why it is that you’re offering me some sort of marriage of convenience?’ Her eyes sparkled with her inner outrage at such a proposal. But what else, in the circumstances, was she to think?
His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘Believe me, Skye, I don’t consider any marriage a “convenience”!’
No, after the disaster his first marriage had obviously been, he probably didn’t. In fact, Skye was sure that the idea of marrying again was not something Falkner had even considered. Until now.
‘You’re prevaricating,’ she told him tightly.
‘Of course I’m prevaricating!’ he burst out impatiently, his whole body tense with anger. ‘Your reaction to my suggestion hasn’t exactly been positive, now, has it? In fact, from the way you’re behaving, anyone would think I was offering to set you up as my mistress somewhere!’
Her eyes flashed deeply blue. ‘Instead of which you’re offering me the coldness of—’
‘A marriage of convenience,’ he finished furiously, crossing the room in two strides to pull her into his arms, his mouth coming down forcefully on hers.
It was as if the last six years had never happened, was just as it had been that first time Falkner had kissed her; every bone in her body seemed to melt, every inch of her flesh feeling as if it were on fire, the blood pounding heatedly through her veins.
Her arms moved compulsively about his shoulders, her hands threading into the thickness of his hair as she kissed him back with all the pent-up longing inside her.
He felt so good, so exactly right, his body curved into hers, her nipples pressed against the hardness of his chest, their heartbeats sounding as one as it pounded in her ears.
Skye’s mouth parted hungrily beneath his, the tip of his tongue moving questioningly along her bottom lip, and, finding no opposition, entering the moist warmth beneath.
Her pulse leapt as she urged even closer against him, her nipples hard now, the heat of her thighs moving against the hardness of his, Falkner’s hands cradling either side of her face now as his mouth thoroughly explored hers.
Skye gasped as one of those hands moved to cup beneath a pouting breast, his thumbtip moving against a hardened nipple, fiery pleasure such as she had never known before surging through her.
She wanted him, how she wanted him, completely, in every way possible!
Her hands tightened on his shoulders as his mouth left hers to move hotly to the creamy column of her throat, teeth lightly biting the soft lobe of her ear, his breath hot like burning lava against her sensitized skin. At the same time, his hand moving urgently against the tenderness of her breast, his roused thighs telling her of his own need.
‘“Cold”, Skye?’ he suddenly groaned. ‘Somehow I don’t think so!’ he added urgently.
His words had the same effect as an ice cube down her back, Skye wrenching away to look up at him, her eyes black smudges in the otherwise paleness of her face.
Falkner held onto her upper arms as he looked back at her, a nerve pulsing in the hardness of his cheek as he refused to release her. ‘Would marrying me really be so bad, Skye?’ he prompted harshly. ‘Would it?’ He shook her slightly. ‘You could have a good life here as my wife. No financial worries, the freedom to be what you want, go where you want, see who you want. And there’s plenty of room here for you to ride Storm.’
It wouldn’t be bad at all—in fact, Skye could imagine nothing she wanted more. But not like this. Never like this.
She wrenched away from him, breathing hard in her agitation. ‘You still haven’t told me why, Falkner,’ she reminded forcefully.
He flung up his arms, moving agitatedly away from her. ‘For the reasons I’ve just stated! Because I want to look after you, protect you—’
‘From what?’ she cried. ‘What is so scary out there—’ she moved a hand restlessly to the outside world ‘—that you feel you have to marry me to protect me from it?’
Falkner became suddenly still, that nerve once again pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘Nothing. There’s nothing out there, Skye,’ he continued hardly as she would have interrupted. ‘No business. No home. Certainly no concerned uncle,’ he added with scathing displeasure.
Skye became suddenly still, frowning her puzzlement as she looked searchingly at Falkner. What did he mean? The business was finished, yes, which meant she would have to find a job to support herself. But her home, the home that had been in the O’Hara family for generations, was still there—wasn’t it? As to her uncle Seamus, he would be out of hospital this weekend—wouldn’t he?
Falkner ran a hand restlessly through the thickness of his hair. ‘It’s all gone, Skye,’ he rasped. ‘Everything your great-grandfather, grandfather and father worked for, all those years. All of it wiped out by the greed of one ma
n,’ he added disgustedly.
Her eyes flashed as she shook her head in sharp denial. ‘I told you, my father didn’t do the things they said—’
‘Not your father, Skye,’ Falkner cut in impatiently. ‘I’m sure I’ve already assured you that I totally believed in Connor’s innocence of the mismanagement he was accused of. The thing is—’ he sighed heavily ‘—there’s plenty of evidence now to confirm it’s no longer just a belief.’
‘What—?’
‘Skye, there was a very good reason why your uncle Seamus wasn’t able to be at the funeral today,’ Falkner continued with grim determination.
She frowned her confusion. ‘You told me he’s in hospital with a broken leg…?’
‘If I could get my hands on him he would have a broken neck to go with it!’ Falkner bit out harshly. ‘Unfortunately, his case is now in the hands of the police. Which means Seamus O’Hara is well out of my reach!’
‘The police…?’ she repeated uncomprehendingly.
Falkner nodded abruptly. ‘Skye, your uncle Seamus was formally charged earlier in the week after admitting to the police that he was the one who embezzled the money from O’Hara Whiskey, of defrauding the company and its shareholders. He was the one responsible for the company downfall, and in the process, for ruining your father and his reputation!’ Falkner was breathing hard in his agitation.
Skye could only stare open-mouthed at Falkner, unable to take in the enormity of what he was telling her.
It couldn’t be true, could it…?
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘I DON’T believe you,’ Skye denied stiltedly, her hands up over her ears as she backed disbelievingly away from Falkner.
Those things he had said about her uncle couldn’t be true. They couldn’t!
Falkner took a step towards her, coming to an abrupt halt as she just moved further away from him. ‘Skye, there is no easy way for me to tell you any of these things.’ He groaned regrettably. ‘I’ve managed to keep the truth from you the last week or so, by making sure that no newspapers got into your hospital room, no telephone calls for the same reason—’
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