Authors: Elizabeth Dunk
The Lies We Tell
The Lies We Tell
Elizabeth Dunk
Ten years ago, Todd Lansing stood by his father’s grave and his heart thudded with hatred of Sia Collins, the girl responsible for his father’s untimely death. Now, on his return to Oberon, seeing Sia makes his heart thud with a different emotion and he doesn’t like that.
Sia has a secret. She didn’t commit the break-in that ultimately killed Mr Lansing – she took the blame for the crime to save her father, Frank Collins, from going to jail. The only person who knows the truth is Frank and their relationship has crumbled under the guilt.
When Todd discovers the truth, hate dies and passion reigns. Except this revelation causes secret after secret to unravel until the only way he and Sia can survive is to cling to each other. If only she’d let him.
Elizabeth Dunk is the contemporary romance-writing alter ego of Nicole Murphy, who cut her teeth writing science fiction and fantasy. A long-time romance fan, Nicole couldn’t resist attempting to sit fair and square in the modern world and bring two fabulous characters together and thus Elizabeth was born. This is the second Elizabeth Dunk book — the first,
Arranged to Love
, was published by Escape Publishing in February. As Nicole, she has dozens of short stories in print and published an urban fantasy trilogy,
The Dream of Asarlai
. Find out more about Elizabeth/Nicole at http://nicolermurphy.com
Thanks to crime writer (and ex-police officer) PM Newton and painter Halinka Orszulok for their guidance and for answering a million questions. Any errors in this manuscript are my fault, not theirs.
Thanks to Queanbeyan District Court for being so understanding of the strange woman at the back of the room, scribbling in her notebook.
Thanks to Donna Maree Hanson for love, support and beta-reading this book.
Thanks to Kate and the team at Escape Publishing and Harlequin Australia for making the publishing of Arranged to Love so much fun that I had to come back and work with you again!
Thanks most of all to my husband Tim.
To the members of FWOR (Fantasy Writers on Retreat) — Alan, Cat, Donna, Ian, Jo, Kylie, Matthew, Russell and Trudi — for being there during the tears and the laughter, for supporting everything I do and for making one of our annual retreats happen at Oberon, thus helping inspire this book.
Bestselling Titles by Escape Publishing…
With an easel strapped to her back, paints and brushes in a bag slung over her shoulder and a blank canvas under her arm, Sia Collins set off up the hill.
It was a glorious day — the last winter chill had dissipated and the dew shone like diamonds under the bright sunlight. Flower heads pushed up through the lush grass, waiting for the first burst of heat to bloom. It was on days like this that Oberon, the tiny town at the western foot of the Blue Mountains, was the only place in the world to live.
She stepped over the gap in the fence and began the trudge up the steeper slope that led to the Lansing homestead — the largest and oldest home in the area. She looked at the garden, noted the influx of weeds, the grass in need of cutting, and clucked her teeth. Her friend Paul Lansing had been busy the past few weeks coping with the after-effects of his mother’s stroke, but he could be gently reminded to get a gardener in. This once beautifully landscaped creation of trees, smooth green grass and blooming flowers had been Maria Lansing’s pride and joy and it wouldn’t help her recovery to see it being slowly overrun.
Or maybe Maria’s oldest son could do something about it, should he eventually arrive as promised to help his brother out. Thinking of Todd Lansing Junior had Sia’s steps slowing. It had been ten years since she’d last seen him at anything but a distance.
Ten years since the innocent decision that had changed her life irrevocably. Ten years since Todd had turned from her.
There were days — many, many days — when she wished she could take back those words and just stand silent as events unfolded around her. But she had to admit — if she did go back in time, she’d probably do it again.
She’d do anything to save her precious father from going to jail.
Paul and Maria had forgiven her for her supposed involvement in the events that culminated in Todd Lansing Sr.Senior’s fatal heart attack. Paul had never said the words but his sudden silences, his failure to talk about his brother, made it clear that Todd hadn’t forgiven her.
Seeing him again was going to be very uncomfortable.
Still she continued up the hill. The fact that any day now she’d come face to face with him again wasn’t going to stop her from bringing some joy to Maria’s life.
For the past couple of years, Mrs Lansing had been one of the enthusiastic members of Sia’s Painting for Seniors class. The doctors had told Paul and Sia that painting would be a great form of therapy as she recovered from the stroke but as Maria couldn’t come down to the town hall, Sia was going to the Lansing’s home instead.
The crunch of her shoes on the gravel driveway brought her out of her reverie. She paused and regarded the house.
It had been built by Todd and Paul’s great-grandfather, when the discovery of gold on his property outside of Oberon had catapulted him to richest man in the town status. Unfortunately, the riches hadn’t survived past his grandson’s death, so Maria had subdivided the several acres on the outskirts of town to keep her beautiful home.
It was a long sandstone homestead, with wide verandahs. Perched on top of the hill, it had some of the best views in the district. There was a warmth to the yellowing stone and yet a richness to the dark window and door trimmings that set Sia’s picture-loving heart a- pattering.
One day she’d paint this. Deeper into spring, when the vines creeping over the balustrade had bloomed. Hopefully after Todd was once again long gone from the area.
She walked up the steps and knocked on the door. Her mind went to how she was going to handle Mrs Lansing — she’d discussed it at length with Paul and the doctor, but she was also going to use her friendship with the older woman to guide her.
The door swung open and she looked up, expecting to see Paul’s open and smiling features. Instead of blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes, she found herself gazing up at a handsome face crowned with cropped black hair and silvery blue eyes shining out of sculptured cheekbones.
Damn — Todd was home.
For long moments their eyes were locked, then Todd smiled. His smile was so warm that hot and cold chills ran down Sia’s back.
“Well, hello.” Todd crossed his arms across an impressively wide chest and leant his shoulder against the doorjamb. “I hope you’ve come to paint me.”
The overt sexiness of his gravelly tone and the gleam in his eyes sent ripples of sensation moving over Sia’s body, and then she realised — Todd didn’t recognise her.
She wasn’t sure what to do. “I’m here to work with your mother.” Her voice squeaked out between suddenly dry lips.
“Maybe you can work with me after.” His eyes moved over her in a heated caress and damn if her body didn’t respond with a sear of arousal.
It wasn’t fair, that Todd Lansing was even better looking now than he had been as her teenage crush.
Footsteps, and Paul’s face appeared at his brother’s side. He tried to use his shoulders to move Todd out of the way, but the older man remained firm.
“Hello.” Paul’s face was pale. His gaze flicked from Sia to Todd and back again. “Glad you could make it. Mum’s waiting.”
His desire to keep her identity from his brother was clear.
“Yes, you’d best go work with Mum,” Todd drawled. “I can wait longer than she can.”
Paul’s eyes widened as he caught the erotic subtext of Todd’s interest in Sia.
Sia looked from the one brother — who had become a good friend and supporter — to the other, who would probably revile her if he knew who she was, and suddenly the part of her that had never hidden from her responsibility had her lifting her chin and looking calmly at Todd.
“You don’t recognise me, do you?”
Paul groaned. Todd’s eyes narrowed. “Should I?”
She held out her hand. “Sia Collins.”
He recoiled from her so violently that he ended up several feet from where he’d first stood. The intensity of his reaction was like a blow to Sia’s stomach.
He hadn’t just failed to forgive her — he still hated her. His eyes blazed with the same disgust that had scorched from his eyes a decade earlier.
Todd turned to Paul. “What the hell?”
“Mum’s been attending Sia’s painting classes for a couple of years. The doctors agreed it would be good therapy for her to continue and Sia’s kindly agreed to come work with her a couple of times a week.”
Todd used the extra inches he had on his brother to loom darkly over him. “She’s not setting foot in this house.”
Sia hugged the canvas to her chest. She’d never imagined that Todd would still harness such bitterness toward her. Why hadn’t he got over the terrible tragedy? The rest of his family had.
“Yes, she is,” Paul said with the quiet firmness that everyone knew meant he was unmovable.
Paul might be considered the nicer, more tractable of the brothers, but at the end of the day he was a Lansing and they had a core of pure steel.
They stared at each other and it was Todd who broke first. Swearing, he turned and stormed away, disappearing somewhere deep inside the large house.
Paul looked at Sia, a broken grin on his face. “Yeah, should have told you that Todd was home, I guess.”
For a brief moment Sia considered leaving, but it was worth facing Todd’s anger to see Maria recover. “It’s fine. Let’s go see your mother.”
“She’s so excited you’re coming,” Paul said as he led the way.
Sia used the walk across the lobby and through the impeccably furnished lounge room to the sunroom to put Todd from her mind and focus on her reaction to Maria. She was glad to take the time — it hurt to see the vivacious fifty-three-year-old now sitting slumped in a chair, one side of her face drooping like wet material.
“Mum, Sia’s here for your painting lesson.”
The side of Maria’s face that still worked curled up in a slow smile. “Hello, Sia.” The words slurred out. “So nice of you to come.”
“Hello Maria.” Sia put everything down on a table near the window, and then kissed Maria’s good cheek. “You look well.”
“I look awful,” Maria said with her trademark honesty.
“Awfully good then.” Sia was pleased to see Maria’s smile brighten.
Then it dimmed. “I can’t paint,” Maria said. “I can’t move my hand.” Her eyes pointed to the wizened right hand that lay motionless in her lap.
“Not yet, no,” Sia agreed. “I’ll have to help you to start, but you know that art is in the heart and the mind, and there’s nothing wrong with either of those. We just have to train your body to be able to make the marks needed again.”
“Will be hard.”
Sia put her hand on Maria’s damaged one. “Yes, it will. It’s terrible that something that happened so quickly is going to take so long to recover from. But if there’s one person who can do it, it’s you. You’re the strongest woman I know. So we’ll do what we can for now, and in time it will be wonderful.”
Maria had always liked that Sia offered the unvarnished truth with a touch of positivity and judging by the tear in her eye, she still did.
Sia set up the easel, put the canvas on, then after discussing what Maria wanted to paint, helped the older lady hold the brush and make the first marks.
After just fifteen minutes, Maria started to get fractious. Paul, who was sitting in the corner reading, came forward.
