His Bid for a Bride

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘You did that?’ Skye gasped incredulously, having had no idea, not a single suspicion that this had been going on in the background.

  ‘Yes, I did,’ he confirmed challengingly. ‘I also did the same thing once you were here. And I would do it all again if I had to,’ he told her assuredly. ‘But sooner or later someone is going to slip up, say something they shouldn’t, leave a newspaper lying around that you shouldn’t see, turn on the television—’

  ‘Mrs Graham and Belinda have been in on this too,’ she realized dazedly, saw now exactly what Belinda’s conversation in Falkner’s study a few days ago had been about!

  ‘But only at my request.’ Falkner nodded confirmation. ‘There were any number of ways you could find out the truth of what happened, and in a way I would rather you didn’t, and I couldn’t keep a watch on all of them. There was also the risk that once you were aware of the truth that you—’ he broke off, shaking his head frustratedly ‘—that you were going to hate me for not telling you sooner,’ he concluded heavily.

  Skye could only stare at him with wide, bewildered eyes, hardly able to believe the lengths he had gone to in order to shield her from the truth. Not sure yet how she felt towards him for having done so…

  At the same time, Falkner was so positive of the truth in what he was saying that there was no way she could continue to disbelieve that he at least thought he was telling her the truth. But there was no way she could really believe her uncle Seamus had done the things Falkner was accusing him of—was there?

  She and her father had moved back to Ireland over twenty-three years ago to take up residence with her grandfather and her uncle Seamus in the family home, Skye becoming the cherished child of all three men; there was no way she could now believe that her uncle Seamus, the man who had been like a second father to her all these years, was guilty of embezzlement and fraud!

  Any more than she had ever believed her father was guilty of it…

  Skye sat down heavily in the nearest chair, very much afraid that if she didn’t do so she might fall down. ‘Those things can’t be true about Uncle Seamus, Falkner,’ she muttered breathlessly, shaking her head in denial. ‘There has to have been some dreadful mistake!’

  Falkner looked grim, his hands once again thrust into his trouser pockets. ‘Skye, your uncle, unable to live with his own conscience after your father’s sudden and unexpected death, was the one to contact the police and confess to them what he had done.’

  ‘But why?’ she cried emotionally. ‘Why would he ever have done those things?’ She blinked as sudden tears clouded her vision.

  Falkner drew in a ragged breath. ‘I asked him those same questions when I saw him last weekend,’ he told her quietly. ‘He was the elder brother of the two, I believe?’

  Skye looked startled. ‘Yes, yes, he was. But he had no interest in the day-to-day business of running a company, so my grandfather—Falkner, you aren’t telling me that Uncle Seamus did those things out of spite, because my grandfather left my father in control of O’Hara Whiskey when he died ten years ago?’

  Falkner grimaced. ‘Basically, yes. In the broader picture—no.’

  She shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’

  He gave a heavy sigh. ‘I’m not surprised!’ he muttered. ‘I had a little trouble understanding myself,’ he explained ruefully. ‘But it seems that Seamus had no real problem with the status quo, was quite happy to just collect the monthly cheque that was paid to him without his having to do any of the work—until he married. Then it became a problem.’

  A small light of comprehension began to appear in the darkness that had enveloped Skye. Her aunt Shanna hadn’t been an easy woman to live with, liked to live the luxurious life without having to put too much effort into achieving it.

  ‘Apparently Seamus and Shanna, while resident in Dublin, were living way above their means,’ Falkner continued hardly. ‘It appears that Shanna had assumed that, as the eldest brother, Seamus actually was O’Hara Whiskey, and she wasn’t at all pleased when she found out that it wasn’t that way at all, began taunting Seamus about being subservient to his little brother, things like that. The only way round the problem, according to Seamus, was simply to help himself to profits from O’Hara Whiskey.’ His mouth twisted distastefully.

  Skye blinked. ‘But—but how could he do that without my father knowing about it?’ She shook her head. ‘I can’t see how—’

  ‘Your father did know, Skye,’ Falkner put in softly.

  She raised startled eyes to his. Was Falkner saying that her father had known all the time who was responsible for O’Hara Whiskey’s downfall? He couldn’t be!

  ‘Connor knew, Skye,’ Falkner assured her firmly. ‘And I should have guessed…!’ He shook his head self-disgustedly. ‘I realized several months ago that Connor was keeping something back, protecting someone, but until last weekend I had no idea what or who it was! Your father knew, Skye; I’m sure of it.’

  Skye thought back to her uncle Seamus’s hurried retreat from Dublin two years ago to the family country estate, of Aunt Shanna’s obvious dissatisfaction with the arrangement, of Uncle Seamus’s determination, despite his own obvious restlessness, that they would remain there.

  Because her father had demanded that he do so after finding out what Seamus had been doing…?

  The things Falkner was telling her now certainly put a completely different context on her uncle’s move!

  Her uncle Seamus had been so angry when Aunt Shanna, unable to stand living in the country any longer, had left him to go back to Dublin, his drinking bouts becoming more frequent, the rows he’d had with his brother often becoming physical as well as verbal.

  Skye swallowed hard, feeling sick at the thought of exactly why her uncle had been so angry. ‘My father did know,’ she confirmed with certainty. ‘All this time he knew…!’ She groaned, once again burying her face in her hands for the fool she had been.

  ‘Skye—’

  Her head snapped up, her eyes flashing a warning Falkner would be very stupid to ignore. He came to a halt inches away from her.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ she grated harshly. ‘Don’t even come near me,’ she added coldly. ‘I can understand the reasoning behind my father’s silence—after all, no matter what his faults, Seamus is his brother. But you—! How dare you have kept all this from me for the last week?’ she demanded furiously, having now decided exactly how she felt about his behaviour this last couple of weeks! ‘By what magisterial right did you dare to do the things you’ve done, go to the lengths that you did, in order to keep me in ignorance of the truth?’ Her eyes glittered dangerously.

  Falkner frowned. ‘Skye, at the moment you’re hurt and angry, not a good combination with which to make any sort of considered judgement—’

  ‘Oh, you’re right about the angry part, Falkner.’ She stood up, her cheeks flushed with fury. ‘As to my judgement—I’ll make my own mind up about that, thank you very much!’ She gave a derisive laugh. ‘Do you know, until a short time ago I was feeling utterly bereft, had no idea what I was going to do, or where I was going to go. And then you confused me even more by asking me to marry you,’ she recalled scathingly. ‘I’m still unsure about what I’m going to do, and where I’m going,’ she bit out hardly, ‘but one thing I do know—I wouldn’t marry you if you—’

  ‘Were the last man on earth?’ Falkner finished gratingly. ‘Not very original, Skye,’ he mocked hardly.

  Her eyes flashed deeply blue. ‘I was actually going to say if you came gift-wrapped,’ she told him scornfully, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. ‘Am I to take it, from what you said earlier, that the estate in Ireland, along with everything else, will be sold in an effort to repay the stock-holders the money my uncle cheated them of?’ She looked at him with narrowed eyes.

  ‘Yes,’ Falkner confirmed heavily.

  Skye shook her head disbelievingly. ‘You really have to be the most arrogant man I have ever had the misfortune to meet! How dar
e you ask me to marry you, as if I’m some sort of homeless charity case—?’

  ‘That isn’t the reason I asked you to marry me, Skye—’

  ‘Of course it is,’ she cut in distastefully, uncaring of the anger that now darkened Falkner’s grimly set features. ‘What do you think I am, Falkner?’ she scoffed. ‘Did you really think I would just meekly sit here and listen to all you have to say, and then gratefully accept your marriage proposal? Because if you did—’

  ‘I didn’t expect anything about your reaction to be meek,’ he assured her humourlessly.

  At this precise moment Skye wanted to scream and shout, to hit something—or someone!—but she wasn’t going to do any of those things. She wouldn’t give Falkner the satisfaction!

  ‘Then you weren’t disappointed, were you?’ she bit out forcefully. ‘I’m going upstairs to pack my things now. In the circumstances, would it be too much to ask you to call a taxi for me?’

  His mouth twisted wryly. ‘Can I take it that’s a definite no to my marriage proposal?’

  Skye opened her mouth to give him a scathing reply, and then thought better of it; she had to get out of here before she totally lost it and said several things she might later—not regret, exactly, but certainly wish unsaid!

  ‘Just call me a taxi, please, Falkner,’ she told him wearily as she walked heavily towards the door.

  He frowned. ‘But where are you going?’

  She turned sharply on her heels. ‘Believe it or not, Falkner, and despite what you may have thought to the contrary, I do have other friends besides you! In fact, you come way down the list of people I would ever ask—’

  ‘Don’t add insult to injury, Skye,’ he warned tautly, that nerve once again pulsing in his tightly clenched jaw. ‘Whatever you may think of me now, I can assure you that I did act out of friendship.’

  ‘For my father.’ She nodded.

  ‘And you,’ he assured her huskily.

  Skye gave a decisive shake of her head. ‘We aren’t friends, Falkner,’ she bit out derisively. ‘Friends don’t lie to each other,’ she added.

  He gave a shake of his head. ‘I have never lied to you, Skye,’ he rasped. ‘Omitted to tell the truth, perhaps,’ he allowed dryly. ‘But I didn’t lie.’

  ‘That’s pure semantics, Falkner, and you know it!’ She shook her head disgustedly.

  He gave a heavy sigh. ‘Maybe. If you leave now, what are you going to do about Storm?’

  She had completely forgotten about the stallion in her need to get away from Falkner!

  Her mouth twisted. ‘As you were arrogant enough to bring him here in the first place I suggest you continue to look after him until I can make alternative arrangements!’ Although quite what they were going to be, or when, she had no idea.

  She really didn’t have any definite place to go once she had left here, just knew that she could no longer stay here, living on what amounted to Falkner’s charity.

  He nodded abruptly. ‘I’ll drive you wherever you want to go.’

  ‘Thanks—but no, thanks!’ Skye snapped, still angry, but knowing that reaction to the things Falkner had just told her was soon going to set in—and then she was going to fall apart! She did not want to do that anywhere near Falkner.

  ‘Skye—’

  ‘Oh, never mind, Falkner, I’ll call my own taxi,’ she told him impatiently. ‘Or walk. Either way, I’m getting out of here!’ she assured him purposefully.

  ‘Don’t bother—I’ll call the damned taxi!’ he grated harshly, his expression grim, eyes a cold, icy blue, hands clenched at his sides—as if he were barely restraining himself from wringing her neck!

  Skye left the room without another word, running up the stairs to the bedroom she had been using during her stay. And all the time the words, How dare he? How dare he? were ringing in her ears.

  She slammed the bedroom door behind her, moving determinedly about the room to throw her few belongings haphazardly back into her suitcase, allowing no time for thought—there would be plenty of time for that once she was safely away from here.

  Who would ever have guessed that only hours ago she had buried her beloved father—?

  No!

  She couldn’t think of that now either, had to concentrate on getting away from here, away from Falkner, without breaking down. Once she had done that—

  She moved to the window as she heard a car out on the driveway, her mouth tightening as she saw Falkner approach the taxi to talk briefly to the driver, her heart contracting painfully as his limp seemed more pronounced than usual.

  She turned away from the window, determined to remain unaffected by Falkner’s obvious weariness. If she resented his charity, then she knew Falkner would welcome her pity even less.

  He was waiting in the hallway as Skye came down the stairs, his expression no less grim, although his anger seemed to have faded as he looked at her with guarded eyes. ‘You shouldn’t have carried that down the stairs.’ He nodded at the suitcase she had put down in the hallway.

  Her mouth twisted. ‘Falkner, at this precise moment my ribs are the least of my problems!’ In fact, she hadn’t even given her broken ribs a thought the last half an hour, let alone felt any pain from them, sheer anger her main impetus!

  Falkner sighed. ‘I really wish you would reconsider, Skye,’ he murmured huskily.

  She eyed him scathingly. ‘Your insulting marriage proposal? Or leaving?’

  His mouth tightened. ‘Leaving, of course,’ he rasped.

  Skye gave a humourless smile. ‘I have no intention of reconsidering anything you’ve said to me today—least of all my leaving. In fact, I can’t wait to get away,’ she added insultingly. ‘I’ll be in touch concerning Storm.’ She frowned, her gaze suddenly pained as something else occurred to her. ‘Does he have to be sold as well?’

  His head rose challengingly. ‘Storm is yours.’

  Which probably meant that Falkner had made sure the stallion would remain hers, probably by buying him himself. She didn’t know how, or when, but she would make sure she paid him back every penny he had paid to buy Storm for her.

  She gave a terse inclination of her head now. ‘Thank you.’

  Falkner’s mouth twisted ruefully. ‘That must have hurt!’

  ‘You have no idea!’ she told him scathingly, bending down to pick up her suitcase.

  ‘I’ve already instructed the taxi driver to leave by the back entrance—’

  ‘Then I’ll just have to uninstruct him, won’t I?’ she came back tartly as she straightened.

  ‘The reporters will still be at the main entrance,’ he reasoned impatiently.

  ‘I don’t care!’ Skye glared at him. ‘My hiding days are over, Falkner,’ she snapped decisively.

  He shook his head. ‘That isn’t a good idea, Skye—’

  ‘I have nothing to hide, Falkner,’ she bit out determinedly.

  ‘Do you really think they care?’ he said impatiently. ‘Skye, at the moment, you’re news—’

  ‘And will remain so while I continue to give the appearance I do have something to hide.’ She shook her head. ‘They can’t touch me now. None of you can,’ she added firmly.

  Falkner drew in a hissing breath at her deliberate insult. ‘If you should need me—’

  ‘I won’t,’ she dismissed derisively; she would make sure that she didn’t need Falkner ever again.

  The fact that she loved him, still, was just something that she would have to live with. She had lived with it for six years already, what did the rest of her life matter?

  ‘I’ll carry that out for you.’ He reached to take the suitcase from her hand.

  Skye moved sharply away from him. ‘I can manage. Goodbye, Falkner,’ she told him firmly, walking to the door. ‘I’ll be in touch as soon as I can concerning Storm.’

  ‘He’s perfectly okay where he is,’ he grated.

  She turned briefly. ‘I would prefer he was with me.’

  Falkner’s mouth tightened. ‘Whatever,’ he
sighed defeatedly.

  Skye’s last sight of him was in the mirror of the taxi as they drove down the driveway.

  He stood alone on the gravel outside the house, a tall, solitary figure, his face set in grim lines as he watched the taxi slowly disappear…

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  ‘HEAR me out, Skye, before you close the door in my face!’ Belinda said quickly—obviously realizing there was a possibility that Skye would do exactly that.

  Opening her hotel door to find Belinda Chapman standing in the hallway outside was the very last thing Skye had been expecting; she had thought it was the landlady with the extra towels she had promised to bring up to her.

  As it happened, Skye hadn’t gone very far in the taxi the day before, just into the local town, taking a room at the inn/hotel in the square there, having remembered seeing it when she went shopping with Falkner. Also having decided that it didn’t really matter where she went at the moment, that here was as good a place as any to think about her immediate future. Besides, she didn’t have any money to waste on luxuries, and the nightly rate at this small hotel was much cheaper than a London hotel ever would have been!

  Her mouth tightened as she looked at the older woman. ‘If Falkner sent you—’

  ‘He didn’t,’ Belinda assured her with a grimace. ‘In fact, his last instructions to me were to stay well away from you!’

  ‘But…?’ Skye raised pointedly questioning brows.

  The other woman shrugged. ‘I never was too good at doing what I was told!’

  Skye gave a rueful smile; neither was she! Besides, she liked Belinda.

  She stepped back. ‘You had better come in,’ she invited grudgingly; after all, it wasn’t Belinda’s fault that she had an arrogantly interfering brother.

  ‘Thanks.’ Belinda stepped inside the room, looking about her interestedly at the small but elegantly furnished room and its adjoining bathroom. ‘This place is really quite nice, isn’t it?’ she allowed admiringly.

  ‘I think so.’ Skye nodded, still eyeing her warily. Just because Falkner hadn’t asked his sister to come here didn’t mean she was pleased by Belinda’s visit. Besides…‘How did you know I was staying here?’ She frowned.