The Australian Affairs Collection. Margaret Way
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man. In whose world could Dylan ever be construed as a failure? How could anyone conceivably interpret Dylan’s achievements as worthless or lacking in value?
Would no one stick up for him?
Fairweather Senior slammed his knife and fork down. ‘You could’ve done something important! Instead you’ve wasted the opportunities presented to you on trivial nonsense. You should be ashamed of yourself. You lack backbone and brains and you’re—’
‘You are so wrong!’ Mia shot to her feet, quailing inside but unable to sit and listen to Dylan being run down like that any longer. ‘What Dylan does is neither shallow nor trivial. He brings people’s dreams to life. Don’t you realise how important that is?’
‘Important? He throws parties for a living. It’s disgraceful!’
‘You really mean to tell me you can’t see the merit in what Dylan does?’ Her daring and defiance made her stomach churn, but she couldn’t stop herself. She turned to Dylan. ‘How long have you had to put up with this?’
‘Mia, I—’
She swung back to his uncle. ‘Your nephew provides people with memories they can treasure for a lifetime. Dylan doesn’t just “throw parties”—he doesn’t just light sparklers and eat cake. He creates events that mark milestones in people’s lives. He creates events that honour their accomplishments. He provides an opportunity for people to celebrate their achievements with their families, their friends and their peers. That’s what life is about. It’s not trivial or shallow. It’s important!’
‘Duty is what’s important!’
Mia swallowed and reminded herself that she wasn’t on trial here. Regardless of how much she displeased him, Fairweather Senior couldn’t send her to jail simply for disagreeing with him.
‘I agree that working hard and being a useful member of society is important—it’s what we should all strive for. And Dylan does both those things.’ She lifted her hands skywards. ‘Can’t you see how hard he works? Can’t you see how talented he is? He has a gift—he’s a creator of dreams. And if you can’t see the value in that then I pity you.’
She dropped her crisp linen napkin to the table. ‘If you’ll all excuse me for a moment...?’
She turned and walked out of the dining room. Everything started to shake—her hands, her knees...her breath. Letting herself out of a side door, she stumbled down a series of steps and collapsed onto a low retaining wall that stood just beyond the light of the house. Dropping her head to her knees, she felt her shoulders shaking with the sobs she couldn’t hold back.
‘Shh...’
She found herself lifted and planted in Dylan’s lap. His arms moved about her, holding her securely against him. His warm scent surrounded her.
‘Why are you crying, Mia? You were magnificent.’
‘I scared myself.’ She hiccupped through her sobs. ‘I... Men like your uncle scare me.’
‘Men like that scare everyone. But at the moment I think he’s more afraid of you.’
He said it to make her laugh, but she was still too shaken. She lifted her head and scrubbed her fists across her face. Dylan slapped her hands away and dried her face gently with the softest of cotton handkerchiefs.
‘Look at me,’ he urged gently.
‘No.’ She stared instead at her hands, but she couldn’t prevent herself from leaning into him and taking comfort from his strength and his warmth.
‘Why not?’
She pulled in a shaky breath. ‘Because I know what I’ll see in your face, Dylan, and I don’t deserve it.’
‘You don’t think you deserve admiration and gratitude?’
‘I don’t.’
‘Mia, you—’
‘It was a man like your uncle who sentenced me to three years in jail. And he was right to do so. I’d broken the law. I’d taken money that didn’t belong to me.’
She hadn’t kept it, but that was neither here nor there.
‘That’s why my uncle scares you?’
She met his gaze then. ‘I meant everything I said at the table. Every single word.’
His eyes throbbed into hers. ‘I know.’
‘But, Dylan, don’t you see? All it would’ve taken was for Thierry to tell your uncle that I’m an ex-convict and that would’ve instantly negated everything I’d said.’
‘Not in my eyes.’
No, not in Dylan’s eyes. She reached up and touched his cheek. ‘But it would in your uncle’s...and most other people’s too.’
He turned his head to press a kiss to her hand. She went to pull it away but he pressed his hand on top of it, trapping it between the heat of his hand and the warmth of his face.
‘Does it matter what people like my uncle think?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it means that whenever I stand up against some injustice, as soon as my background is known my protests have no effect, no impact. In fact it usually makes things worse—as if their association with me taints them. I might as well have kept my mouth shut.’
‘You’re wrong.’
The intensity of his gaze held her trapped. She couldn’t look away.
‘After you left just then, Carla announced to the table at large that she was proud of me. It’s the very first time she’s ever stood up to him.’
Her heart pounded against the walls of her chest. ‘Have you ever stood up to him?’
‘On Carla’s account—but never my own.’
She couldn’t stop herself from brushing his cheek with her thumb. It turned his eyes dark and slumberous.
Dangerous.
The word whispered through her, but she didn’t move away. She liked being this close to Dylan.
‘You shouldn’t let him treat you the way he does.’
‘I realised that tonight for the first time. I’ve made a lot of excuses for him over the years. He lost his brother, and he and my aunt provided a home for Carla when our parents died.’ He shrugged. ‘The family tradition of law and politics is important to him, but I had no intention of ever following that path. Letting him rant and rave at me seemed a small price to pay, but...’
‘But?’ she urged, wanting him to break free from all the belittling and bullying.
‘But I hadn’t realised until tonight how much I’d let his voice get inside my head. Somewhere over the years I’d unknowingly started to agree with him—started to define myself by his standards. But tonight you stood up and reminded me of why I do what I do. And I felt proud of it.’
She smiled. It came from way down deep inside her.
Dylan stared at her. His gaze lowered to her lips and the colour of his eyes darkened to a deep sapphire. A pulse started up in the centre of her.
‘I want to kiss you, Mia.’
Her heart fluttered up into her throat. ‘Oh, that would be a very, very bad idea.’
‘Why?’
A part of her wished he’d just seize her lips with his and be done with talking.
Crazy thought!
‘Because...’ It was hard to talk with her heart hammering in her throat. ‘Because I’ve made it clear where I stand in relation to romance and relationships.’