Lovers' Lies (6 page)

"Damned if I know." Victoria really liked this woman. And she didn't want her laboring under any misapprehensions.

"Logan and I are friends, Piper. Nothing more."

"You're serious?"
 
Her uncertainty caught at Victoria's heart.

"Oh yes, I’m very serious," she breathed softly, excitement gripping her by the throat. "But don't tell darling Davina."

Piper laughed, her green eyes dancing with excitement as she caught on. "How will you do it?"

"Do what?" enquired a lazy male voice.

Shocked, Victoria looked up into Keir's face. How much had he overheard? "Persuade Logan he's madly in love with Piper."

Surprise flared in his eyes. "You're satisfied it's no financial merger then?"

"Victoria!" Piper gasped in comical dismay, her green gaze flying from one amused face to the other. "Where ever did you get that idea?"

Victoria glanced involuntarily at Logan.

Piper's generous mouth thinned and temper flared in her eyes as she stalked off.

"Very clever, who are you planning to disrupt next?" Keir pinned Victoria with a scorching glance.
 

Her breast rose on an indrawn breath. Her gaze skittered away and then, as if drawn by some magnetic force, came back to him.
 

Her lush lower lip was caught in uneven white teeth. "I never intended to disrupt anything."

He had to lean closer to catch her murmured words.
 

She turned her head. Their gazes locked—everything else did as well.

Time, their breathing, even their heartbeats.

"Your presence is disruption enough."
 

Desire shimmered, filling the air, heightening senses, tightening nerves.

To his chagrin, Keir discovered he was no more able to control the heat, the desire this woman aroused in him, than he'd been all those years ago.

God! She has to be a throwback to some witch.

And she felt it too.

The evidence was there, in her quick shallow breaths, the flush on her skin, the way her heart beat at the base of her throat like a trapped bird, those golden eyes wide and scared.

Was she remembering their earlier kiss?

Heat and blood went south. He was so hard, he ached.

And she was his brother's woman.

The skin between his shoulder blades prickled and he glanced down the room and saw Muriel and Davina standing so close, their heads almost touched.
 

Davina and Muriel? Apprehension robbed him of breath. Was he the subject under discussion?

"If there’s a god of retribution, he must be laughing like crazy at my expense about now," he muttered in a driven undertone. "Why have you come back into my life now, Victoria?"

He had to get out of here.

Another glance assured him Muriel and Davina were in animated discussion with a third woman.

Seizing the chance, he caught Victoria's wrist and maneuvered her through the closest doorway.

"Let me go."
 

She struggled against his hold. He felt the frantic race of her heart in the pulse at her wrist.

Ignoring her questions and her struggles, he pulled her through a side door, along the corridor and into a deserted room. Once there, he turned the key in the lock.

He had no intention of being either disturbed or discovered in this encounter with his brother's woman.

"What are you doing?" Her voice was high and squeaky.

"What I've wanted to do from the moment I saw you at Logan’s side." The words escaped before he could censor them.

He had to taste those lips. He caught her shoulders, crushing her against him and kissed her with all the hunger in his starving soul.

As last he lifted his head and looked at her. "What are you, Victoria? Some damn witch sent to drive a sane man crazy?"

"You're insane."

A harsh laugh escaped. "Tell me something I don't already know."

"I don't want this."

The ice, the husky torment in her voice had him dropping his hands and putting the width of the room between them.

The tip of her pink tongue touched kiss stung lips.

Exerting merciless self-control, he yanked his libido back in line before he was reduced to slavering and howling at the moon. He raked a hand to his hair, tugging a hank hard.

The pain centered him, his chest rose and fell as he struggled for control.
 

"You can't marry that iceberg, Keir."

Her harsh words cascaded over him in an icy douche. Was this why she was here with Logan? Was she trying to manipulate him with sex?

Never again will I dance to that tune.

It was time, and more, he let this witch know where his priorities lay. He needed an ordered life; he wanted a calm, orderly existence, without any the extremes of emotion.

What a laugh! Whatever gods were staring down on him must be crowing and rubbing their hands with glee.

He'd thought his failed marriage had killed every tender emotion he possessed. Grief gripped him by the throat and threatened his composure.

Meeting with Victoria, he discovered he was far from dead.

Thrown off balance, desperate to regain control, he said, "Davina's my fiancé and
we will be married."

Victoria stiffened, her determined chin lifted and her delectable lips thinned. "Then expend your sexual hunger on her not me."

As he watched, the subtle nuance of her expression, a silent laugh mocked him.
As if?

"Your choice." He spread his hands wide. "If you mean that then stay out of my way. Or better yet, leave."

Victoria, after one scorching glance, turned on her heel and left.

The click of the lock, the silence she left behind, thick with tension.

He rubbed a hand around the back of his neck, a harsh sigh escaped, and with a fatalistic sense of inevitability, he returned to join the party.

Of all the women in the world, why had Logan chosen to bring Victoria Scanlan to Darkhaven as his guest?

He intended to corner his step-bother and find out.

Chapter Four

A
fter a restless, haunted night, Victoria slid out of bed and padded to the window, desperate for fresh air. A grey dawn lent a pearly luminescence to the grounds of Darkhaven. Oak, chestnut and ginkgo trees reared above the shawl of mist clinging to the earth.
 

The stables smelled sharp on the chilly air.

The familiar sound of stable boys exercising horses on a sand track was reminiscent of home and her father's horses. Voices grew louder as they swept close to the homestead at one point, the thunder of galloping hooves echoing in the fog.

Living in town, she missed the horses.
 

She dressed in jeans, soft with wearing, and a fleecy shirt of dusky rose before un-braiding her hair. She brushed it, a soft brown curtain almost concealing her body.

With deft fingers she re-braided it, the plait reaching more than midway down her back.
 

Somewhere a clock chimed six. Too long to wait for breakfast, she slipped downstairs and found the kitchen.

"Could I make a cup of tea?" Victoria asked hopefully.
 

"My but you gave me a fright." The housekeeper laid a hand on her ample breast. "You’re up with the sparrows. Mr. Keir’s having tea in the breakfast room. I'll fetch another cup. He won't mind if you join him."

I wouldn't bank on that.

Victoria followed the woman. Keir, clearly startled, stood as she entered the room.

"You're an early riser." The dark eyebrows climbed with surprise. "Do you want a cuppa?"

"If it won't disturb you?" She hesitated, not wanting to precipitate another clash.

"Just being in the same house does that."
 

Heat crept up her cheeks. For a moment she hovered on the brink of flight.
 

"Sit down," he growled pulling out a chair. When she sat down, he followed. "Milk?"

"Please." She added sugar, too aware of his scrutiny. She sipped, refusing to meet his eyes.
 

"Was your hair always that long?"

The unexpected question made her splutter.
 

"You know it wasn’t," she muttered, casting him a darkling look. "After my mother died I never had it cut, then my hairdresser persuaded me to keep it long."

"A man of sense."

"What makes you so certain it was a man?" His smug words irritated her.

"A man understands how sensual a lover finds long hair on a woman." A soft chuckle escaped as fiery color flooded her cheeks. "Will you unbind it for me?"

"No." She looked at him in chilling reproof. "Are you forgetting your fiancée again, Keir?"

His black brows descended and dark eyes glittered with temper. The breath lodged in her throat in horrified fascination.

Connor wore that exact same expression when he was out of temper.

"Why are you staring at me like that?" he demanded harshly. "Do you think I intend to attack you at my father's table? What sort of animal do you think I am?"

Unable to find any words to explain, she just shook her head, eyes burning. Unless she confessed, he couldn’t understand. And no way would she reveal the truth here under his father’s roof.
 

She shuddered. Just thinking of the repercussions of such a disclosure made her nauseous.

"I've never thought of you like that! Ever!"

His anger ebbed. The wide shoulders that epitomized his strength drooped. He pushed away from the table.
 

"I'm going for a walk. This house gives me claustrophobia. Do you want to come?"

Did she want to spend time with Keir?

One part of her clamored a fervent
yes
, the cautious part was far more wary.

He saw her hesitation.

"It’s cold out, have you a warm jacket?" She shook her head.
 
"There are jackets in the mud room. You can borrow one."

Silently she followed him, watching as he pulled a jacket from the coat rack. He held it for her to slip into, his hand brushed against her neck as he settled the collar around her throat, the braid of hair pulled to the outside.

She shivered.

For a moment his hands framed her face and then with a sharp imprecation, he dropped his hands and stepped aside, opening the door for her.

Heart thudding erratically, she walked into the crisp autumn dawn, gravel crunching underfoot. Their breath formed steam wreaths, the stables, grotesque shapes in the gloom.

"Logan and Dad are down at the track." He was first to break the silence.

"You get on well with Logan?" Never overly interested in Logan’s family, now her curiosity knew no bounds.

"We've always been close. If you're imagining a hated stepbrother syndrome, forget it."

"I wasn't," she retorted tartly. "Do you feel the same about your sisters?"

He gave a low growl, caught her arm and turned her to face him, eyes glittering with banked emotion. "What do you know about my sisters?"

"Only that you have three." Victoria was bewildered by his reaction.
 

"Who told you? Logan wouldn’t. He's too damn loyal."

"Your father told me."

"Dad told you?" His dark eyes flashed with anger and—betrayal.

"He mentioned it last night." Upset by his reaction, she laced a hand through his.

"Were you surprised?"

Unsure how to answer that observation, she nodded.

"Then try to imagine how I felt when I discovered I even had sisters. And the shock of learning my dead mother was very much alive. And had another family."

Victoria stopped abruptly, stared at him, shaking her head in horrified disbelief. "You’re kidding? Right?"
 

His stern lips had a cynical twist. "Wrong."

"That’s iniquitous." She winced, struggling to imagine his shock. Her grip on his hand tightened. "How old were you when you found out?"

"Seventeen."

"What happened?" she asked, his expression so grim her breath caught in her throat.

"It’s an old story." His grimace tore at her heart. He continued walking, their hands entwined. "My mother ran off with another man. At four I didn't understand. I was told my mother was dead."

"And you believed it?" She glanced at him through her lashes. His expression was impassive.