Authors: Shirley Wine
Bewilderment and fear morphed into searing anger. With her father, and with Keir Donovan.
"Tell me? Just how was I meant to contact you? Thought transference? Seth Donahue didn't exist."
He dropped his hands from her shoulders and folded his arms across his massive chest. He watched her, his expression unreadable.
Her heart clubbed against her ribs in a painful cadence.
If I know Keir, he'll tolerate anything except lies.
Logan's warning echoed hollowly.
"There’s such a thing as making enquiries. Or didn't your intelligence stretch that far?"
"Keir," Caine's quiet, decisive command cut through the tension, "now is neither the time nor the place for this discussion."
With an effort of will terrifying to witness, he leashed his anger.
"You're right as usual, Father." His expression lost none of its grimness as he met her eyes. "Rest assured, Victoria, the reprieve is temporary. You owe me an explanation and by hell, it had better be good."
Fear fought with bewilderment. She shook her head, Keir's accusations made no sense.
But fear for her son, overrode every other concern.
"Connor," her voice trembled. "When will we know anything, Dad?"
Andrew glanced at his watch and spread his hands.
Her skin was clammy as nausea churned in her belly. Was she about to throw up? She fought it down, unwilling to add to her humiliation.
Bewildered and worried sick by Keir's attitude, Victoria turned away. She’d always feared he wouldn’t react well to knowing about his son, but anger and scorn? He was acting like some betrayed lover.
After last night, of course he feels deceived.
She shook her head to clear it. He considered she was the one at fault? It was way beyond reasonable.
On tottering steps she crossed to the window, resting her face against the cool glass.
What was happening to her baby?
Even Keir’s inexplicable anger faded when weighed against the danger facing Connor.
Guilt ate at her.
She should never have allowed Logan to persuade her to leave Connor with her father and Daphne. Hadn't she known her stepmother, in late pregnancy and having a hard time of it, couldn't keep up with her little dare devil?
Light-headed and nauseous, she slumped in a chair, and buried her head in her hands as she fought fear and panic.
Every possible scenario flitted through fevered thoughts.
What will I do if Connor dies?
Or worse, what if my intelligent bright-eyed little boy is brain damaged?
In a recent documentary, she'd seen bright, intelligent kids reduced to pitiful creatures by injury.
Would Connor end up like one of those children?
Horror and dread inched though every corner of her mind as each incredible scenario built on the last.
What if he can't talk or walk? What if this injury puts Connor in a wheelchair?
Would Keir accept a brain-injured child?
After-all how well do I know this forbidding man? He may be Connor's biological father, but as yet, he has no emotional bonding with my little boy.
Would he reject an imperfect child, out of hand?
The tortuous thoughts threatened to drive her crazy.
Woven through her twisted thoughts were Keir's angry words.
You owe me an explanation and by hell, it had better be good.
She wrestled with the sick knowledge that after her impulsive actions last night, Keir had reason to suspect anything she did or said.
Unable to sit still any longer, she leaped to her feet and paced to the huge plate glass windows that lined one wall of the room. Far below, Lilliputian people walked with swift precision to their destinations while seven stories above them, she waited in helpless limbo, ignoring the four silent men sharing this awful vigil.
In the periphery of her mind, she was aware of Keir leaving, but was too consumed with worry to be curious as to where he was or what he was doing.
"Calm down, Victoria," His gruff voice was close to her ear.
She gave a start of surprise when he gripped her shoulder with one hand and lifted her chin with the other, forcing her to look at him.
It's okay for him. He doesn't know and love Connor like I do.
"I know I haven't the personal involvement you have." He surprised her with his perception. His hand massaged her shoulder in an attempt to comfort. "If you don't calm down you're going to collapse. That won't help Connor when he needs you."
The unexpected empathy made her knees buckle.
She sagged against him, turning her face into his shoulder. She managed a ragged breath, his warmth, the faint smell of soap and mint that clung to him, familiar and comforting.
"I'm so scared." The admission was dragged out of her on a tiny whimper. Here in his arms was the comfort and support she craved.
"And you think we aren't?" he asked, his voice hard, firing her indignation afresh. "But working yourself into a fever, imagining the worst won't help Connor. All you're doing is making yourself ill."
His harsh words had her jerking from his grasp. "You're insufferable."
"So what's new?" One dark eyebrow rose, his dark eyes observed her dispassionately, his mouth drawn in a thin line. "How will falling apart help our—
your
little boy?"
She caught the correction and alarm spread its remorseless tentacles into her troubled mind. Was Keir already distancing himself?
"You're so mean." Anger sizzled through her. How dare he dismiss her anxiety for her baby so contemptuously?
"Absolutely. Get used to it." One corner of his lips lifted in a half smile. "Now drink this tea Logan’s made for you."
Wordlessly, she took the cup and sipped, shuddering at its excessive sweetness.
"Drink it, Victoria."
One look at Keir's implacable expression and she obeyed. When she finished, he went to the beverage station and made her another, and then handed it to her.
She sipped it, relieved to find this one much more to her taste. That Keir remembered how she preferred her tea warmed the chill lodged in her chest.
He left her sipping tea, returning a few minutes later with a glass of water and two tablets.
"Take these and that headache will ease." He gave a slight smile at her start of surprise. "Don't try lying about it, either. No one expects you to be Superwoman."
Victoria took the pills then leaned her head back against the wall, forced to admit she did feel better and a lot calmer. Hands on her hair made her eyes fly wide open.
"What are you doing?" she demanded pulling away.
"Undoing this tight braid to release tension from your scalp," he answered imperturbably, continuing to unravel her long hair despite her furious glare. "For heaven's sake keep still."
"Yes, sir."
She heard the muffled snort of laughter from Logan and glared at him.
Keir un-braided and combed her hair with his fingers before catching it loosely back and tying it at her nape. The easing of the pressure on her scalp had her giving a relieved sigh.
"Thank you." Her response was grudging.
"Now calm down," he said evenly. "Connor isn't going to be brain damaged or dead."
She shuddered, startled at his easy reading of the fears flitting through her tortured mind.
"Your father packs a mean punch but doesn't strike me as a liar," he said gruffly. "All head injuries are serious, but Connor's sounds to be on the lower end of the scale. Give your imagination a rest."
The calm good sense of his words eased more of her tension, "Why are you being so kind? It's not like you."
"I can be kind when the occasion warrants," he drawled sardonically. "When that little boy regains consciousness there's only one person he'll want to see.
You
."
"Keep this up Keir and I may even find something to like about you," she replied with sugary sarcasm.
"Victoria!" She turned at her father's scandalized voice.
Keir’s lips twisted in sardonic amusement. "Your daughter is one contrary madam."
Before she had a chance to protest the door opened and the surgeon entered in his green theatre overalls.
Victoria was instantly on her feet, dry mouthed and light headed, Keir’s arm strong and comforting around her shoulders.
"Courage, Victoria," he whispered, for her ears alone.
"Ms. Scanlan?"
"Yes." Fear turned her mouth acrid. The rock in her belly morphed into a boulder.
"Connor has come through the operation well. He hasn't regained consciousness yet and until he does we won't be able to fully gauge how successful it's been, but we’re confident there will be no lasting damage."
She heard his voice from a long distance away. Her knees gave out. Dimly, she was aware of turning her face into a rock hard chest and warm arms enclosing her in a protective cocoon.
Above her head, the sharp staccato of Keir's voice rapped out as he asked the questions she was too shaken to voice.
"Cry it all out." The terse command filtered into her shocked senses.
She was aware of Keir issuing low voiced orders and she pushed away from him. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her to mop up.
"Okay now?"
She nodded blowing her nose and wiping her face. "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. Connor's in recovery and won't be in intensive care for another hour or more," he continued evenly. "Dad and Logan are going back to Darkhaven. You and Andrew can have breakfast," he glanced at his watch, "well, more like a late lunch with me and then I'll bring you back here. No arguments, Victoria. It could be a long wait for Connor to recover consciousness and you need food."
Her grip on her situation slipped from her grasp as Keir took command. And the rest of the party accepted his authority. Rebellion stirred in Victoria at his dictatorial orders.
This was yet another side of him she’d never seen. He was a stranger, a human juggernaut who swept everything and everyone before him with his forcefulness.
"Listen to Keir, Victoria. You can't do anything for Connor right now, not even be with him until he's transferred to the pediatric ICU." Andrew put a persuasive hand on her arm. "Don't fight him." He turned to Keir. "I'll go ahead."
"Be on the lookout for photographers or reporters."
She paused, glancing up at Keir as she caught his low-voiced warning. "Photographers?"
His saturnine smile made her uneasy. He escorted her into the lift and pressed the button for the rooftop cafeteria and gardens.
"Be prepared for a pasting from the press." A cynical smile touched the corners of his stern lips.
"The press?" she echoed stupidly. "Why?"
His harsh laugh sent a shiver down her spine.
"Last night you carelessly dumped Davina out of my life. Her father owns Strathmore Publishing. Among their stable is
The Clarion, Evening Press,
and
The Sunday Insight."
She stopped, staring at him in disbelief. "What possible interest can those tabloids have in me?"
He gave a bark of dry laughter shaking his head. "Time will tell."
As he held open the cafeteria's swing door for her, she digested his grim words. Was he right? Would they be pestered by the press?
Keir halted behind her, scanning the scattering of people in the café. It was well past the lunch rush so the crowds had thinned. Finally, as if satisfied they weren't about to be ambushed, he shepherded her and Andrew toward the service counter.
Judging by his attitude, he considered it a distinct possibility.
The smell of food made her stomach grumble and realize just how long it had been since she'd had a meal.
"What would you like?" Keir asked, as he took a tray from the stack. He looked at the menu board above the self-server.
"Food," she said pulling a wry smile. "I'm hungry enough to eat anything."
After considering their choices, they placed their orders.
"Go find us a table. Outside in the garden if you can," Keir said, "I'll get this."
As she walked beside her father, Victoria was glad of these minutes alone with him. She suspected Keir had deliberately arranged it this way.
She found a table in a corner, sheltered from the brisk southerly that had blown up during their vigil. Once seated, she turned to her father.
"You knew?"
She didn't need to clarify the question. Her father looked away avoiding eye contact, obviously discomforted. "Look, it was a long time ago."
"That's not going to cut it," she said with quiet vehemence. "And you know it."