Yesterday's Sins (5 page)

Discussing Sarah was intolerable.

Kate bit down on her lip until blood bloomed in her mouth.

It took every ounce of self-control to stop pleading with him, begging for information about the tiny child she had last seen struggling for life in an incubator, a tiny, living scrap of humanity.

Any crumb to satisfy the craving in her heart.

"She's the child you demanded."

"Yes." The flat word held no emotion.

"Does she appease your lust for power? Your need for revenge?"

Kate was desperate enough to risk his anger.

A long dormant, inner demon rose to the surface gaining power. The wound he'd exposed was still raw, and she wanted to hurt him as he's hurt her.

The truth behind the hit and run that left Marcos Korda dead, sat like an open wound between them. It was Catriona's cousin, Jessica, who'd stolen her car and hit and killed Marcos Korda.

Had she not defied the police, had she not gone to visit Alex, they would not be having this conversation. But the truth came too late. Jessica had already set in motion the chain of events that catapulted Catriona into this man's life.

"You chose to run away." Alex raked a hand through his silver streaked hair. "You abandoned Sarah, leaving me to assume responsibility for her. You conveniently forget that."

"Isn't that what you wanted?"

"It was never what I wanted. What sort of woman are you? What sort of woman can walk away her new born baby without knowing if she's going to live or die?"

"One who was frightened to death of the man who'd forced a pregnancy on her."

Remorse gleamed in his eyes. He lifted his hands in a helpless gesture, and then let them fall. "How many times do you want me to apologize?"

Wounded, Kate turned the screw.

"What sort of man drugs and kidnaps an eighteen year old girl, and then forces her to bear his child? God, that sort of thing has been outlawed since the dark ages? I hated you eight years ago, Alex, and nothing has changed."

His eyes glittered and he went pale under his ruddy tan. A small muscle at the corner of his lips twitched, giving her time for regret.

"It wasn't me you hated, Catriona," he growled softly, "what you hated was your need to satisfy the craving of your awakened sexuality."

Shame threatened to devour her alive.

His presence reminded her of things she'd tried so hard to forget. He came closer, each measured step echoing on the hardwood floor.

As he leaned over her, she felt his warmth; a swiftly indrawn breath filled her senses with his familiar cologne and the musky scent that was his alone. It stirred atrophied senses into unwilling life.

Heat coiled in her belly, her nipples unfurled and her flesh craved to feel his, pressed hard against her.

Desire jolted through her and, with it, crippling shame.

"You've done such a good job of whitewashing, Catriona. Are your mourning clothes and black hair a sop to your guilt for abandoning your child? Or are they punishment for turning away your family. Or a means of atoning for being alive when your father and Chris are dead? Is that why you don't date, have no friends and live this barren existence?"

Each deliberate word drew blood.

He leaned even closer. She saw the darker striations in his grey eyes, unable to break eye contact.

Her lips stung and ached for the feel of his.

"No, that's not true." In desperate denial, she tried to push him away, heart hammering.

He wasn't right. He couldn't be?

"No? Then why are you hiding?" He sketched a hand at the sparsely furnished living room.

"I'm not." Even to her, the denial wasn't convincing.

"Aren't you? Why the false name, the vanishing act and the years of silence?"

His accusations punctured her cultivated veneer. She huddled deeper into the chair, but there was no escape.

"It's one thing to seek revenge on me." He shook his head, sorrow etched on his stern face. "I deserve your scorn, your hatred, everything you want to throw at me and more. But to punish a tiny child—"

Watching through agonized eyes, she saw him turn and stride to the door and open it. He paused, one hand on the door handle, sparing her a searing glance.

"In the past, Catriona, I respected your honesty. Now, it pains me greatly to realize I was mistaken. You are a liar."

She stared at him as he shook his head in sorrow.

"But far, far worse, is the fact that you're lying to yourself."

Long after he'd gone, Kate stared at the closed door. The echo of his words crucified her.

Chapter Three

A
n almost sleepless night left Kate heavy eyed.

Determined not to allow Alex to destroy her hard won poise, she dressed with more than normal care, softening a severe, tailored black skirt with a white silk blouse and a pink cashmere sweater.

The sweater had been an impulse buy and had sat unworn in her wardrobe for over a year. And that fact alone, gave her pause.

Recalling Paula's laughing words on the morning of her birthday, Kate surveyed her wardrobe with a critical eye. The sea of black and grey made her re-consider Alex's scathing words.

Was he right? Was she in mourning? Hiding from life?

That she was even re-assessing her lifestyle was tantamount to admitting his opinion mattered.
 

Alex's opinion does matter, and to me, it's always mattered. It matters far more than I've ever wanted to admit.

Shock warred with confusion. So much for her vow to never to forgive him.

Last night it had been shock.

His gentleness, his unstinting comfort as she'd sobbed in his arms, her own insensible need, were enough to make her cringe.

Why had she clung to him?

What he thought of her breakdown didn't matter. She piled last night's dishes into the sink and, as she scrubbed them, wished she could scrub Alex out of her mind with the same ease.

He had no rights with her. No right to intrude, No right to criticize how she lived her life?

But to her dismay, Kate discovered his accusations refused to be dismissed.

Kate's hands stilled in the washing-up water and she stared through the kitchen window at the peaceful rural scene. Was she punishing herself for things she'd been powerless to prevent?

Alex kidnapping her; how could she, or anyone else, suspect refreshments offered to a guest were spiked.

For falling pregnant?

Kate closed her eyes in anguish.

The anger, the depression, and the sheer helplessness she'd experienced when even her own body had let her down and betrayed her.

For being alive when her twin and father were dead?

Her father and Chris had asked, and pleaded, to visit while she awaited Sarah's birth. Alex too, had asked her time and again, to allow them to visit. And still she'd refused.

Angered at their swift condemnation, when neither had believed her denial of causing that accident, she was not inclined to relent.
 

She'd been stubborn in her refusal to forgive them.

And then it was too late.

They were both dead, and all she'd wanted to do, was crawl in their graves, too. Kate closed her eyes in anguish.

And I've had far too many years to live with, and regret being so stubborn.
 

For abandoning their daughter?

Beneath closed eyelids, she saw the searing image of that tiny scrap of humanity, tubes fixed to every part of her body.

The murmur of the priest administering the last rites to the dying still haunted her. Wounded, grieving unable to cope with yet another body blow, Kate had literally shut down.
 

She'd crawled into a dark hole.

I will not go down that path again.

She managed several choppy breaths.

But the clamouring memories weren't so easily rounded up and shoved back in their neat pigeonholes.

And they were far too uncomfortable to dwell on.

This was Alex, at his manipulative best.

In the past he'd been so successful at manipulating her thoughts. She remembered his insistence, that despite how their relationship had begun, they could create a family for their child.
 

And like a fool, she'd begun to believe, to hope and weave dreams, only to be offered the most crushing betrayal of all.

Money
.

Now, older and infinitely wiser, she could see him far too clearly. She would not allow him to influence her thoughts.

By the time she reached the office, Kate was convinced she could treat Alex Korda as she would any other client.

Dave followed her into her office, closed the door and perched on the edge of her desk.

"What gives with you and Korda?" he asked without preamble.

"Nothing." Kate gave him a wary glance. "Why?"

"It's not like you to be as icy with a client, especially one as wealthy and influential as Korda. I had the impression you had the ground knocked out from beneath your feet when you saw him in my office."

Too aware of Dave's intent scrutiny, she fiddled with a pencil; and then leaned back in her chair, rubbing a weary hand across her forehead. She couldn't pretend with Dave, he knew her too well.

"Alex and I go a long way back."

"He strikes me as a bad man to have as an enemy."

"None worse." Kate looked at him and then away, running the pencil through nervous fingers. "Korda is devious and remorseless. He's Greek to his fingertips and Nicolaides, his faithful henchman."

"I thought as much." Dave nodded and gave her a keen look. "You were running from him when you came here."

The shrewd observation was no surprise. Kate, warmed by his obvious concern, tried to allay his misgivings. "Did he give a reason for wanting property here?"

"Nicolaides approached me a month ago." Dave's eyes were clouded with worry, "From what little he's told me, I gather Korda is liquidating his share of the Australian parent company and is setting up business in New Zealand. Greylings
is one of several properties he's acquired. Racing, farming and manufacturing all figure prominently."

Kate stared at Dave, her mind working feverishly. The Korda Group was huge and so well established in Australia. Eight years ago, Alex was its CEO.