Lovers' Lies (23 page)

"Welcome to Dunstan, Victoria," Keir answered her unspoken question in an impassive voice.

She alighted from the car, and stared around, shell shocked. "This is your home?"

"It is." His smile made her nervous. "But more importantly it's now yours and my son's home as well."

Chapter Fifteen

V
ictoria came awake slowly.

Her head felt thick, her mind sluggish and grit burned behind her eyelids. Even asleep she’d felt oppressed. A huge weight rested permanently on her chest in the region of her heart.

She struggled to remember where she was. A soft knock had her turning her head as the door opened.

"You awake?" Keir asked quietly.

Keir!

Connor’s accident.

That sleeping pill. Small wonder she felt so rotten.

Memory came crashing back. She bolted upright, clutching at the sheet. "Connor?"

"Relax. He’s okay. I’ve just checked in with his doctors. He’s demanding breakfast even as we speak."

A quick, relieved breath escaped. If Connor was demanding food, he was surely on the mend.

Her anxiety faded a little then increased a notch as she saw him put her suitcase inside the door. He crossed to the bed and sat on the edge.

"Dad brought your case over. I have to go into the office. My chauffeur will be ready to take you to the hospital at ten." He glanced at his watch partially concealed by an immaculate white cuff.

"On the Easter Holiday weekend?"

He nodded his expression grim. "Donovan’s Board has called an emergency meeting. I need to go into the City."

Guilt and apprehension coiled in her gut. "Over me?"
 

His shuttered expression revealed nothing, his dark eyes emotionless.
 

A shiver goose stepped across her skin.

She didn’t recognize this man, yet another facet of the very complex person who was her son’s father. Gone was the passionate lover, the friend she’d confided in.

In his place was a stranger who regarded her with as much warmth as he would an unsavory insect.

But can I blame him?

I should have found the opportunity to tell him about Connor.

A glance at him through her lashes revealed the purple bruise marring the line his freshly shaven jaw. One eye was puffy and his cheek swollen.

She winced at this physical evidence of her cowardice. Had she been open and honest could this nightmare situation have been avoided?

Guilt piled on guilt.

And Keir had to face Donovans Board.

"Leave me to worry about Donovans."
 

"Why are they so uptight?" This wasn’t the first time she’d sensed the Donovans Board had ridiculously high standards.

He hesitated so long she thought he wasn’t going to answer.
 

"Donovans is a family banking and investment brokerage. They’ve built their business on the base of strong moral and family values," he said in a clipped voice. "As such, they insist on a high standard for their executives and their board. Any scandal impacts on their reputation."

Victoria swallowed hard.
I can't blame him for being less than impressed with me.

"Why didn't you tell me about Connor that first night I came to your room?" He stood up and walked to the window, standing so still he could have been a carved statue.

Staring at his rigid back, Victoria slid out of bed, reached for the toweling dressing gown draped over a chair and belted it on. Once in it, she felt more capable of facing this confrontation.

She walked over the window, willing him to look at her. "Meeting you at Darkhaven gave me one hell of a shock."

He turned to face her, dark brows drawn together in a forbidding frown. "So?"

"That night, I'd decided to tell you about Connor," she said, too aware of her heart's rapid race. "But not while we were guests in your father's house."

Keir rocked slightly on his heels studying her with devastating intensity. "You didn't know who I was?"

Victoria swallowed hard, trying to clear the constriction in her throat. Instinctively, she knew her whole future, her son's future, rested on her answer.
 

"Had I known, or even guessed at your identity, Keir, I'd have found you before Connor was born," she said, with quiet simplicity. "God knows, I tried hard enough to find Seth Donahue."

There was slight shift in his stance, so subtle she wondered if she'd imagined it.

"And later? After that first meeting at Darkhaven?"

She managed a shaky breath, too aware of the fine tremble in her hands. "Later, I realized I'd made a mistake."

And why is it, that the wisdom of hindsight is always so darn clear?

"Too damn right you made a mistake," he said grimly. "And now we both have to live with the consequences."

What could she say? An apology wouldn’t cut it. "I'm sorry."

"You're sorry?" He gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Had I known, I could have prevented this whole tasteless debacle."

She swallowed hard, but the boulder lodged firmly in her throat never shifted.
What the heck was in the papers?

"How bad is it?"
 

"
The Sunday Inquirer
is the first Strathmore paper to hit the news-stands. My guess is the board is far from happy." He opened the door and gave her a grimly amused smile. "I would suggest that you fortify yourself with breakfast first."

Her anxiety spiked and remembering the scrum at the hospital, she asked, "How can I get in to see Connor?"
 

"I’ve made arrangements for you to use a private entrance." He frowned down at his hands. "If you
are
accosted keep your head down and your lips zipped."

She nodded, waiting when he hesitated.

"Don’t speak or interact with the staff unless it directly concerns Connor and his care. And Victoria?"

She nodded, the hard edge to his voice made her mouth go dry.

"Remember that anything you say, even the most innocuous comment, will be leaked to the media and misconstrued. Okay?"

Victoria lowered her head, the beginnings of a headache throbbing behind her temples. This was worse than she feared.

And Keir looked far from happy as he extended a hand and lifted her chin forcing her meet his eyes. "This will die down if we give them no ammunition. The essential thing to remember is that here at Dunstan, and at the hospital, both you and Connor are safe."

"You think we’re in danger?" It came out as a squeak.

"Not exactly in danger," he conceded grimly. "But after today, you and Conner are no longer anonymous."
 

Her trepidation grew.
 

He glanced at his watch again, gave her another grim smile. "Mrs. Teague will make you breakfast when you’re ready. You can trust her, implicitly. But don’t answer the phone, your cell or step outside the gates without an escort. I've provided you with a bodyguard and she'll escort you when you’re away from Dunstan. Okay."

That wasn’t at all encouraging. "What about my business?"

"We’ll discuss that later. I have to go, but I want your promise, Victoria."

He was so serious, she knew she had to co-operate. "I promise."
 

"Thank you. I may see you later when I visit Connor." With a nod and another of those grim smiles, he left.

Alone with her roiling thoughts, Victoria wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed, under the bedclothes and hide out from the whole world until this storm blew itself out.

Hiding out was pointless.

She was an adult, a mother, and it was time to face up to the damage her secrecy and Logan’s manipulation had created.
 

Going downstairs, she paused for a moment looking around the spacious hallway, absorbing the ambiance.

Sunshine streamed in through the wide windows and made the polished wooden floor gleam. A jewel colored Persian rug set off the pale surface of the wood.
 

The whole atmosphere was one of airiness and welcome.

On a majestic wrought iron and glass table one side of the stained glass front door, stood a huge beaten silver bowl of roses, their perfume heavy on the warm air.

The last roses of summer, there was nothing fake about these flowers. A few petals had fallen on the glass table top, adding to their charm.

Above the table, a stunning abstract painting commanded her attention. All huge, pale salmon, dusky pink and sage to moss green, swirling petals, it was intriguing and unlike any other work she'd ever seen.

Had Keir bought Dunstan furnished or had he chosen these beautiful pieces?

The wrought iron table had a timeless appeal, as did the abstract art work.
 

As she stepped closer to study it, a movement beyond the windows caught her attention. Looking outside she saw a stooped, gnarled old man, leaning heavily on a walking stick, directing a much younger man at work in the expansive rose garden.

She glanced back at the flower arrangement, nodding her approval. Keir obviously intended the flowers be used in the house as well as the garden.

Victoria, only human, was curious about Keir's home and the people he employed.

But more importantly it's now your home and my son's too.

A shiver shook her.

Last night she'd been too tired and wrung out to fully comprehend the threat contained in his words.
 

Now, they formed an ominous echo.

While this house held none of the oppressive atmosphere of Darkhaven, Victoria held few illusions.

This was Keir's home and she was here on sufferance.

A plump, grey haired woman bustled into the hallway to greet her. "Ms. Scanlan, Mr. Keir said you'd be ready for breakfast."

"Mrs. Teague?"

"Indeed," she smiled and extended a hand shaking Victoria's firmly. "What do you usually have for breakfast?

"Tea and whole wheat toast, thanks."
 

"English Breakfast, Earl Grey or do you prefer herbal tea?"

"English Breakfast."

"Marmalade on your toast?"

"Yes, please."

She bustled ahead of Victoria, opening the door into a sunny room that opened out onto a terrace. "You make yourself comfortable while I fetch your breakfast."

"Where's the Sunday paper?" Victoria asked filled with trepidation.

"Why not have breakfast first." Her plump, homely face was creased with concern.
 

"That bad?"

"Scurrilous." Mrs. Teague's broad Canadian drawl gave that one word a stinging emphasis. "The fiends need whipping."

The sick sensation in Victoria's belly, intensified.

She'd never been a coward and wasn't about to turn into one now. After a few moments mental debate, she straightened her shoulders.

"I’ll have breakfast and the paper," she said with decision. "I need to know what I’m up against."

The housekeeper gave her a measuring look, and then nodded. She bustled away returning a few minutes later with a tea tray, folded newspapers on the side.

She put the papers face down, and poured a cup of tea. "Drink this first, Ms. Scanlan," she said laying a hand on her shoulder. "You’ll need it."

"Please, Mrs. Teague. Call me Victoria, I prefer it." Heart thudding, palms slick, she turned the paper over.
 

The banner headline screamed:
Donovan Love Child Derails Society Wedding.

A photo of her and her father glaring at each other across the table in the rooftop garden of the hospital cafeteria made her gasp.

Stunned, she stared at it in disbelief.

She'd not seen a photographer.

Did someone overhear our heated exchange?

Her hands shook so much the paper rattled as she swiftly scanned the text. When she found no incriminating comments of her fierce argument with her father, a relieved sigh escaped.

Another photo of Keir holding her hand across the same table filled the page. Whoever had taken these photos had not been close enough to hear their conversation.

Suddenly Keir's words of caution made appalling sense.

Victoria winced.

She’d been warned, but shock still shimmied through her. Beneath the main headline, in a smaller box, but no less prominent:
Board Demands Answers to Latest Donovan Scandal.
 

Davina’s portrayal of a woman betrayed made Victoria realize the blonde had missed her calling. The woman should have been an actress, her comments about Keir, little short of stomach-churning.