Pagan Enchantment. Кэрол Мортимер
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I don’t—–’
‘I’d better get going.’ Her father looked at his wrist-watch. ‘Time for work, I’m afraid,’ he told Gideon ruefully.
The other man nodded. ‘I understand.’
And Merry knew how he understood! If he had done enough research on her to know her background then he also knew that her father was an insurance agent, that he spent most of his evenings visiting clients, usually able to catch people in at that time of day.
‘I’m sure Merry will be pleased to get you some dinner,’ her father continued goodnaturedly. ‘I’ve had mine, love,’ he kissed her absently on the cheek. ‘See you later. You too, I hope, Gideon?’
Merry looked sharply at Gideon Steele. It hadn’t taken her father and him long to get on to a first-name basis. And there was still the puzzle of what he had told her father about how they met.
‘I’m not sure yet, Malcolm,’ he answered easily, his gaze firmly fixed on Merry.
‘I understand,’ her father nodded. ‘Don’t be too hard on him, pet,’ he advised Merry before leaving the room.
Colour flooded her cheeks at the assumption her father had made that Gideon Steele was the man from her ‘first unhappy love affair’, and her blushes deepened as she saw the derision in Gideon Steele’s eyes.
‘What are you doing here?’ she snapped ungraciously.
He shrugged and sat down again, perfectly relaxed. ‘I told you I’d be back once I was sure of my facts.’
Her breath caught in her throat. ‘And now you are?’
‘I’m sorry, Merry, but yes, I am.’
There was no doubting his sympathy, or the look of regret in the deep blue eyes, and the emotions sat strangely on such a harshly determined man.
He stood up to pace the room, having discarded the empty beer can in the bin. ‘I went back to Harrington, told him to check on all the facts. They led straight back to you, Merry. I really am sorry,’ he repeated deeply. ‘I gather you haven’t spoken to your father?’
‘No! And I’m not going to,’ she added fiercely.
‘But you do believe me?’ he prompted softly.
She wetted her suddenly dry lips with the tip of her tongue, wishing she could say no, but knowing it would be a lie. A man like Gideon Steele was unlikely to be wrong once, let alone twice! If he said she was adopted, that her mother was really his stepmother Anthea, then she had to believe him. But it changed nothing for her, made no difference to the love she felt for her parents. Anthea Steele had given her up when she was a baby, so she had no claims on her now, moral or otherwise.
‘Yes, I believe you,’ she answered in a cold voice.
‘So you’ll come and see Anthea?’
‘No.’
‘Good God, girl—–! She’s your mother!’ he ground out, his mouth a thin angry line, the tautness of his body telling her of the control he was exerting. ‘She brought you into the world—–’
‘And just as soon deserted me, by the sound of it!’ Her eyes glittered deeply green in her own anger.
‘She was very young, she’s only thirty-eight now—–’
‘I don’t care how old she was. She gave me up, she can’t come along twenty years later and try to claim a family love. It would be disloyal to my father to even acknowledge her existence.’
Gideon Steele shook his head. ‘I’m sure you’re doing your father an injustice. He seems a very reasonable man.’
‘Whether he is or not is not a subject for discussion.’
‘Drop that haughty act with me, Merry—–’
‘It isn’t an act, Mr Steele,’ she snapped. ‘I am not interested in meeting your stepmother, because as far as I’m concerned that’s all she is. My own mother paced the floor with me as a baby, fretted for me when I started school, worried about me when I was ill, encouraged me through my exams, waited up for me on my first date, celebrated with me when I got into drama school. Can your stepmother do any of that?’ Her scorn was unmistakable.
Gideon Steele drew in an angry breath, a pulse beating erratically in his lean cheek, his shirt pulled tautly across his chest as he thrust his hands into the back pockets of his trousers. He looked lean and powerful in that moment—a man far from beaten in this argument.
‘I’m not suggesting you welcome her with open arms,’ he rasped. ‘Or that she could ever take the place of your adoptive mother—–’
‘She never could!’
He looked impatient with her vehemence. ‘As I said,’ he drawled hardly, ‘I’m not suggesting that. What I am saying is that maybe you could be friends. Anthea would like that,’ he added softly.
Merry studied his softened expression with suspicion. Could he possibly feel more than a maternal love for his stepmother? He said Anthea was thirty-eight, that made her only four years older than he was, and it also made his father a lot older than his wife.
‘Did she marry your father for his money?’ she asked suspiciously.
His mouth tightened. ‘What sort of question is that?’ Anger oozed out of him.
Her head went back. ‘Did she?’
‘They’ve been married for twelve years,’ he revealed abruptly. ‘I think my father would have realised by now if that were the case.’
‘Twelve years?’ she repeated softly. ‘Then she’s had all that time to think about wanting to know her daughter, so why now? Why doesn’t she just have another child and forget all about me?’
‘I’m beginning to think she would be better doing that myself!’ he rasped.
Merry flushed at his rebuke. ‘I’m sure she would.’
‘And will you forget her too?’ he taunted harshly. ‘Don’t be stupid. Merry. Now that you know of her existence it would be impossible to ignore her. As for why she would want to see you now, I can tell you that she’s always wanted to see you, but that she tried to be fair to you and not interfere in your life while you were still a child.’ His derisive expression showed that he still thought that was so. ‘Last year, when she was in hospital, she told us about you. I think she just wanted us to know that she had a daughter, a daughter she loved.’
‘In hospital?’ Merry repeated sharply. ‘What’s wrong with her?’
‘Why are you interested?’ he mocked.
Merry glared at him. ‘I’m not—–’
‘She had a nervous breakdown,’ he cut in steadily. ‘She’d been living on her nerves for years, and she just suddenly folded up. We finally discovered it was because of you, because of the guilt she still felt for giving you up.’
‘But that was last year?’ she frowned. ‘Surely she’s well now?’
He sighed. ‘Surperficially, yes. But she’s been on pills ever since, and my father fears that she’ll have another breakdown.’
Her mouth twisted. ‘Wouldn’t producing me give her rather a shock? You said she knows nothing of your search for me?’
‘I wish I could believe your concern for her was genuine,’ he snapped angrily. ‘But I know damn well it isn’t.’ He took a card out of his breast pocket and wrote on the back of it. ‘If you ever find yourself with a little compassion to spare call me at this number. But don’t call me otherwise,’ he rasped. ‘Anthea couldn’t cope with your derision and hate. Now walk me to the door, like the polite little girl you’ve obviously been brought up to be,’ he derided hardly,