Authors: Shirley Wine
Now she’d dug herself into such a deep hole.
If only she could back up and start the weekend all over again.
If only—
those had to be the two most useless words in the English language.
She looked through the shrubs, but Logan and Piper had moved away.
"How do you manage to look as bewitchingly innocent as you did that summer? Has there been no one else?"
Startled, she half-turned on the seat to look at him, mouth agape.
Did he say what I thought he said?
"How is that any of your business?" she asked tartly. "My love life has nothing to do with you."
"Is Logan your lover?"
"Is Davina yours?"
He held up a hand as she lobbed the question straight back. "Why do you think she's so—upset about you?"
His choice of words gave her pause. She shook her head. In a normal situation, surely her fiancé would use the word jealous. To be jealous implied a certain level of caring.
Whatever emotion was driving Davina toward this marriage, Victoria seriously doubted it was jealousy.
Possessiveness or prestige?
Maybe.
His mockery hurt something deep inside. "Keir, don't do it? You'll be so unhappy."
His humorless laugh rubbed the hairs on her arms the wrong way. "How naïve you are, Victoria. Every marriage is a trade-off, my dear, sex for money and diamonds, and a life of pampered ease."
"Was your marriage like that?"
"My marriage is over and it's not up for discussion, now or ever."
The harsh, uncompromising statement made Victoria more sure than ever, that his defunct marriage was the driver behind his alliance with Davina Strathmore.
"My parents weren't like that. You could warm your hands on their love."
"And yet your father remarried three years after your mother died?"
"Why not? My mother would never have expected my dad to live alone for the rest of his life. She wasn't selfish like that."
Her restless foot stirred the thick carpet of autumn leaves that had built up near the stone seat. Overhead, in the denuded branches, a blackbird sang its merry song. She inhaled a shaky breath, her senses immediately filled with the scent of mint and wood smoke. Somewhere a fire was burning.
"And yet you live alone," he said silkily. "Why?"
Not exactly alone.
The words trembled on the tip of her tongue. It took all her willpower to prevent them escaping.
Trust Keir to hone in on an area of weakness. Afraid of exposure, she carefully edited her reply. "How I live isn't your concern."
"Isn't it?" His intent scrutiny increased her nervousness. "Logan did let one thing slip. You don't have a lover?"
"Not your business Keir." The ice in her voice would have frozen a lesser man.
"Ouch!" He made a great show of rubbing his hands. "I robbed you of your virginity. It concerns me that the experience has soured you of a normal sex life."
"Robbed? Robbed?" Wariness forgotten, her temper exploded. "I was there, Keir, and there's nothing wrong with my memory. There was no robbery involved. It was a mutual decision." She held up a hand. "And before you say it, I was not too young to know my own mind."
"I wasn't going to." His grin stoked her temper.
"Watch you don’t trip over your almighty ego. I haven't been scared off sex. I’ve just never found a man I like well enough to go to bed with."
He laughed a great booming belly laugh, dark eyes dancing with wicked delight.
Heat seared her face, her neck, her whole body.
Damn. She'd let her temper take control of her tongue.
And Keir, the devil that he was, delighted in misconstruing her words.
"Do you think an admission like that is going to deflate my ego?"
He chuckled. Giving her another of those wicked,
knowing
smiles, he leaned back against the stone seat, his long jean-clad legs crossed at the ankles. The late autumn sunshine glinted off his sable hair, highlighting red and gold among the darker strands.
Laughter took years off his age.
She stole a glance at him, and found him watching her. A lazy smile softened his stern lips. Relaxed like this, he was more like the man she'd known and fallen in love with.
Her heart raced and breathing grew shallow.
"Perhaps not." A smile slipped past her control. "But that doesn't mean I'm prepared to sleep with you while you're committed to another woman."
"So what will tempt you to come to my bed?"
"That's for me to know, and you to guess."
He caught her hand and threaded his fingers through hers. "So tell me, Tori, what's been happening in your life since our summer of bliss?"
Our summer of bliss.
The words laid a soothing balm over her bruised heart.
It would be too easy to let this moment morph into a tender moment of intimacy. She pulled her hand away from his.
"I share my life with my friends, Keir," she said, quietly determined. "Not with ex-lovers who're committed elsewhere."
The harsh expression she'd come to expect, returned. And grief pierced her heart, but she was determined to remain strong.
"I haven't forgotten."
Victoria studied his averted profile, not sure what she was seeking. "Do you love Davina?"
Keir spared her an aloof glance, eyelids lowered half-mast. "Is that any of your business?"
Damn!
When would she learn to guard her unruly tongue? What else did she expect after the pointed snub she'd just delivered?
Embarrassed color heated her cheeks. She scuffed a shoe in the fallen leaves, inhaling deeply. A whiff of wood smoke on the crisp autumn air teased her senses.
She sneaked another glance at his forbidding profile. Even seated he towered over her. Did he regard her questions as prurient curiosity? He couldn't know she had a vested interest.
"Davina and I have a mutual agreement," he admitted in a clipped voice, obviously goaded by her continued silence.
"It’s not a love match?"
For long moments she thought he wasn’t going to answer.
He rose to his feet and stood, rocking back on his heels, hands thrust deep in his pockets as he surveyed her with sardonic amusement.
"Donovans want their CEO to be a married man. And I need a competent hostess."
Seated, Victoria was at a distinct disadvantage so she stood and faced him.
"And Davina?"
"She wants to be mistress of Dunstan
.
"
Of course.
The stunning mansion on the outskirts of Cambridge had won the coveted Master Builders Design Award and had been featured in the latest
Home Beautiful
magazine.
Victoria had read in the local paper that it had recently been sold, but she didn't know until now, just who had bought it. She had little difficulty imagining Davina Strathmore relishing being queen bee there.
"And I want an heir. We have clear boundaries. No messy emotions to confuse things."
His cynical drawl and cold-blooded recital had her hands clenching into fists. She thrust them into the pocket of her jeans.
Keir was marrying Davina to have a child? A son?
In one blinding moment, Victoria saw the foolishness of her initial decision.
Too late, she knew she should have told Keir about their son. The first night here at Darkhaven. Now, the web of deceit was too tightly woven to untangle.
Afraid of betraying herself, and her child, she turned away.
You already have an heir, Keir. Our son. But because you lied to me, you don't know Connor.
She needed to tell Keir about Connor.
Now.
The words hovered on the tip of her tongue but one look at his face and her courage failed.
Consumed with guilt, she was afraid of Keir's reaction to her continued deception.
She knew, without doubt, he would be angry and resentful.
And she couldn't find it in her heart to blame him.
Keir needed to know about Connor, the sooner the better and forget about waiting.
But right now, Victoria needed distance and space to consider how best to cross the bridge of her deceit.
She turned to walk away but Keir caught her hand, preventing her precipitous flight.
"What is it?" he demanded turning her to face him.
For one scorching moment she stared at him then with a choked cry, pulled away and ran toward the house, excoriating tears blurring her sight, intent only on gaining privacy.
Chapter Eight
V
ictoria was ready and waiting long before Logan knocked on her door to escort her downstairs for pre-dinner drinks.
Tonight, she'd chosen another An'Ville creation, also a gift from Daphne, this one, a knee-length dress in green and gold silk jersey. The delicate fabric draped and hugged every curve, and the deep heart-shaped neckline revealed cleavage.
Wow, she actually had cleavage. The new uplift bra really worked. She preened in front of the mirror, grinning.
She'd spent the better part of an hour on her hair and makeup. She'd arranged her hair in a sleek, elegant French pleat, secured with a 1930's silver and crystal hair glide she'd inherited from her mother. She'd allowed a few tendrils to escape to soften the severe style.
The matching crystal and silver necklace, bracelet and drop earrings accentuated the slender column of her neck and three inch heels gave her much needed height.
She surveyed her reflection with a satisfied smile.
While she'd never possess Davina Strathmore's height, or Nordic beauty, neither was the comparison weighted against her.
When she'd packed for this weekend, Victoria had been undecided on what accessories to bring and, on the-spur-of-the-moment, decided to bring her entire jewelry box.
Logan gave a low whistle as she opened the door. "You look stunning. Planning on setting everyone on their ear tonight, Tori?"
"Not really." She picked up a tiny silver-beaded evening purse and slipped it over her wrist. "Just doing justice to the occasion. I'm so eager to hear The Tin Roof Toms. How on earth did Muriel persuade them to give this performance?"
Logan's soft chuckle piqued her curiosity. She looked at him eyebrows raised in question.
"Quite simply, money."
"Oh."
Of course. Where have my wits gone begging? Muriel was very free with her money when trying to bribe me to leave.
Logan chuckled again and jiggled her arm.
"I believe she offered them a fee they couldn't turn down. And they countered it with a demand she donate an equal amount to the Child Cancer Foundation. I did hear her complaining to Dad that the group knew how to drive a very hard bargain."
Knowing this pleased Victoria, glad the group made sure Muriel paid through the nose.
The money was going to a great cause.
A cheerful buzz of conversation echoed up the hallway as they approached the huge gathering room. She paused, halting their progress. "Logan, I need to talk to Keir."
Logan stopped and looked down at her, his other hand covered hers resting in his arm. "Ah, so you've finally decided to see sense?"
Victoria nodded, catching her lower lip between her teeth. It was one thing to know she should tell Keir the truth, another entirely actually doing so.
"Nervous?"
"Wouldn't you be?"
"It's not too late, Tori." Logan steered her into a corner, caught her hand and squeezed it. His quiet words beat at her brain. "Go and ask Keir if you can speak to him privately."
"Now?"
"The longer you leave it, Tori, the more the lies compound." He watched her steadily, his eyes filled with concern. "If I know one thing about Keir, it's that he won't tolerate lies. And lies by omission are still lies."
"Can you blame him?"
"No. The lies he was fed as a child were reprehensible."
Victoria looked up at Logan. Grimness hardened his boyish features. His likeness to his mother at that moment was so uncanny a chill worked its way down her spine.
"I'm thinking about it."
"You need to do more than think, Tori," Logan said as he escorted her into the gathering room