Tall, Dark... Collection. Кэрол Мортимер
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moved to the mini-bar, taking out a small bottle of whisky to pour the contents into a glass tumbler. ‘For you,’ he offered dryly, holding the glass out to her as she looked at him warily. ‘You look as if you need it!’
She didn’t like whisky, had never liked strong alcohol, but Liam was right; at the moment she felt in need of it! The first sip made her wince initially, but it was quickly followed by a warming sensation, seeming to settle those quivering butterflies in her stomach too.
‘Let’s sit down,’ Liam suggested gently. ‘At least, you sit down,’ he amended once she had done exactly that. ‘I think better standing on my feet,’ he acknowledged ruefully.
Laura wasn’t sure she wanted him to be able to think better; she would rather he just listened.
‘I realise you haven’t yet told me all you feel you want to,’ Liam said softly. ‘But maybe it will help if I first tell you a few things about my version of what happened eight years ago. What do you think?’
She thought that at the moment she was coward enough to welcome putting off her own version if that was what Liam wanted her to do!’
‘Go ahead,’ she assented, taking another sip of the whisky. It really was quite relaxing.
Liam drew in a ragged breath. ‘Well, I’ve already explained what I thought of you and your emotions eight years ago. What I haven’t told you is that I—Laura, eight years ago I was in love with you! One hundred per cent completely in love with you!’ he stated evenly.
Laura stared at him. He hadn’t—He didn’t—He couldn’t have been!
Liam took in her dumbfounded expression. ‘Sometimes, still, your emotions are so transparent,’ he said. ‘I was in love with you, Laura,’ he repeated firmly. ‘But, as I’ve already explained, I was ten years older than you, felt you had a lot of growing up, a lot of living still to do, before it would be fair for any man to ask you to devote your life just to him.’ His expression was grim now.
Laura moistened dry lips. ‘You said, when we met again last week, that you wished I had been this Laura eight years ago…’ she remembered slowly, that remark perhaps starting to make more sense to her now.
Perhaps…
She gave a firm shake of her head. ‘You couldn’t have loved me eight years ago, Liam,’ she said. ‘You could never have left me in the way that you did if that had been the case. Certainly never have married someone else within weeks of leaving England. And me,’ she added painfully.
He gave a heavy sigh. ‘After that night, when we made love, I knew I had to get out of your life, give you chance to grow up without my influence. I didn’t go straight to America when I left England; I went home to Ireland first. Perhaps you remember my telling you earlier today that my mother isn’t yet aware that you’re the same Laura from eight years ago…? I talked to her about you then,’ he continued at her affirmative nod. ‘Told her everything—’
‘Everything?’ Laura echoed.
‘Everything,’ Liam repeated. ‘My mother agreed with me that your parents’ death must have been a terrible blow for you, that you were bound to still be emotionally immature, that my making a clean break from your life was probably for the best—’
‘I wasn’t too immature to become a mother!’ Laura reminded him tautly. ‘Don’t you think that you—and your mother—should have let me be the one to decide whether or not I was mature enough to know my own mind?’ she demanded impatiently. ‘And heart,’ she added huskily.
‘I always intended to come back, Laura,’ Liam told her gruffly. ‘It was never meant to be for ever.’
She looked up at him disbelievingly. ‘You married someone else, Liam,’ she reminded him.
‘I missed you so much when I got to America, Laura. Drank too much,’ he stated flatly. ‘Sometimes I would lose days at a time,’ he remembered. ‘I’m making no excuses,’ he assured at her sceptical expression. ‘Diana was beautiful, obviously willing. I—It only happened the once. A few weeks later she told me she was pregnant. What can I say? I married her. Only to discover within weeks of the marriage that she had apparently made a mistake, that she wasn’t pregnant, after all. It’s the oldest trick in the book.’ He groaned. ‘And I fell for it!’
How ironic. How utterly, awfully ironic! Because back in England Laura had been genuinely pregnant with Liam’s child.
Her expression hardened. ‘What do you want me to say, Liam?’
‘About my marriage?’ He shrugged. ‘Nothing. It’s a mistake that I have to live with. But it was also a mistake that made it impossible for me to come back here to you. I knew you would never forgive me for marrying someone else, never believe that it was you I loved the whole time. But when I saw you again last week—!’
Laura had tensed, staring at him intently. ‘What did you think then, Liam? How did you feel?’
‘Initially? Stunned. Quickly followed by euphoria; I thought I was being given a second chance! But then you told me you were someone else’s wife!’ He shook his head. ‘Seven years ago, after my divorce, I had no right to come back and tell you how I felt about you; the fact that you were married to someone else would have made the whole thing impossible. But then I found out you were a widow, that your husband had been over thirty years older than you—’
‘You believed I had married Robert for his money,’ Laura recalled dryly.
‘I couldn’t think of any other reason why—The age gap seemed too vast for it to be a love-match. The man was almost twenty years older than me, for goodness’ sake! Then, at first, when I saw Bobby and realised—I had to rethink it all. I thought perhaps you had married Robert Shipley to give the child a name,’ he admitted raggedly. ‘At least, I began to hope that was what you had done. And then today I learnt that Robert had been your Uncle Rob. The man you had obviously adored eight years ago.’
‘Of course I adored him,’ she confirmed emotionally. ‘He picked me up and put me back on my feet again when my parents died, was always there for me. Always!’ she added shakily, remembering all too vividly her own euphoria, quickly followed by heartbreak on learning of Liam’s marriage to another woman, when she had discovered she was expecting Liam’s child. Robert had cared for her. ‘But I wasn’t in love with him, Liam. Nor he with me. Our marriage was that of two very good friends, each caring deeply for the other, joined together by the love we both had for an innocent child.’
‘How you must have hated me all these years.’ Liam looked ashamed.
‘Yes.’ She wasn’t about to lie to him; she had hated him—for leaving her, for marrying someone else, for not being there when their son was born. ‘For a while I did,’ she agreed. ‘Until Bobby was born, probably. There was too much love in my heart then to feel hatred for anybody.’ Least of all, she realised now, the man who had given her Bobby, given Robert Bobby.
‘I love him, too, you know,’ Liam told her huskily.
‘I know you do.’ She nodded understandingly. ‘At first, when I realised I was pregnant, I didn’t know what to do. It was Robert who said I had to tell you. He was even willing to go to America with me so I could tell you. He hated all the fuss that was made when he had to fly anywhere,’ she recalled affectionately. ‘But he was willing to do it to help me find you. Then we saw the photographs of your wedding in the newspapers,’ she said bleakly.
‘Oh, Laura…!’
‘No.’ She put up a shaky hand to stop Liam as he would have come down on his haunches beside her chair. ‘It all has to be said, Liam,’ she told him flatly. ‘The truth told at last.’ She drew in a ragged breath. ‘I was twenty-one years old, in my last year of a university degree, and pregnant—and the father of my baby had just married someone else! Robert knew that I—I wanted to keep my baby. He—he offered to marry me, to take