Lifelong Affair. Кэрол Мортимер
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doubted their father loved them, but they had always known of his desire for a son, had known their names had been chosen for boys and converted for the girls that had come in the place of the sons he wanted. She hadn’t even realised her own feelings of inadequacy until she found herself telling it to Alex Hammond!
‘I had no idea your father had collapsed.’ He chose to ignore her lapse into the melancholy, confirming her thoughts that he hadn’t known; his silver eyes were icy, his expression cold. ‘Although it’s been a shock to all of us.’
Then how did he manage to look so unmoved! Morgan knew she looked haunted, her parents and his mother were deeply shocked, and yet Alex Hammond looked—detached. There was no other way to describe the way he looked.
Morgan swallowed hard in the face of that detachment. ‘They said—on the television—that there were no survivors.’ She searched his face for some sign of that information being wrong. Not by the flicker of an eyelid did he show emotion. Oh, he was a cold bastard! She shuddered at the vehemence of her feelings, having taken even more of a dislike to this man.
‘They were wrong,’ he stated flatly.
Hope leapt in her heart. ‘They were?’
‘Yes. It appears—Sit down, please,’ he told her abruptly.
She looked startled. ‘I—I’m fine. I—–’
‘I said sit down, Morgan.’ He didn’t raise his voice, his expression didn’t change, and yet Morgan sat, knowing the words were an order and not a request. ‘It appears there were half a dozen survivors—all of them severely injured, but alive nonetheless.’
‘Glenna—–’
‘Was not one of them. Neither was Mark.’ Still the man showed no emotions.
Her breathing became ragged as the full impact of his words hit her. ‘They—they’re both dead?’ she choked, having been given hope for a few seconds only to have it taken away from her again.
‘Yes,’ Alex Hammond stated flatly.
‘Oh, God!’ She hadn’t realised how much hope she had still been harbouring, secretly believing that no news was good news. It was all gone now. She didn’t doubt for a minute that Alex Hammond knew what he was talking about.
‘But their son is very much alive,’ his softly spoken words interrupted her weeping. ‘And well.’
Morgan raised a tear-wet face, swallowing hard. ‘Their—son?’
He nodded. ‘Glenna was one of the survivors. She lived for two hours after the crash, badly—fatally injured herself. And somehow she kept alive long enough to give birth to her child. She had a son. His name—the name she chose for him—is Courtney.’
This time Morgan cared nothing for his lack of emotions. ‘Courtney …!’ she gave a choked sound that was somewhere between a laugh and a cry. ‘That’s my father’s name!’
‘Yes,’ Alex Hammond acknowledged. ‘And I’m sure your father will be very proud of his grandson.’
‘You—you’ve seen him?’ She wiped away her tears with the back of her hand.
‘Briefly,’ he acknowledged tersely.
She was under control again now, hardly able to believe what he was telling her. Glenna had a son, a son who was alive! ‘What does he look like? Is he like Glenna or Mark? Is—–’
‘He’s like all newborn babies,’ Alex Hammond dismissed impatiently. ‘Small, pink, and he cries a lot. And incredibly like Glenna,’ he added gruffly, showing he wasn’t quite as unmoved by the baby’s existence as he appeared.
‘I want to see him,’ she decided firmly.
‘I have no doubt you will,’ he drawled. ‘But there’s something else I think you should know before we go any further. Glenna also made provision for her son’s future. She made you and me Courtney’s legal guardians. Jointly,’ he added pointedly.
MORGAN blinked; she was too stunned to do anything more than that. She was overjoyed, thrilled, at the thought of her nephew being alive and well. But she had no idea how both Alex Hammond and herself could be the baby’s guardians, one living in England, the other in America.
Obviously Alex Hammond couldn’t either. ‘Of course it’s impossible,’ he said abruptly, placing his briefcase on her dining table. ‘I have some documents here,’ he unclicked the lock. ‘Legal documents, drawn up by my lawyers, relieving you of all moral and legal obligation to Courtney.’
Morgan stood up slowly, feeling the anger burning up from within her. Just who did this man think he was! He came here and told her that her beloved sister was dead but that the child she had been expecting was alive. And now he calmly suggested she reliquish all rights to that child. The man was insane!
‘No,’ she told him bluntly.
He raised dark brows, halting in the removal of the official-looking papers from his briefcase. ‘No?’
‘Certainly not!’ Her green eyes sparkled in challenge, her tall slender body as taut as a ripcord in her fury. ‘Courtney is my nephew, and if my sister wanted me to be his guardian then that’s what I intend being.’
‘He has two guardians,’ Alex reminded her. ‘You and I.’
‘So Glenna made a mistake,’ Morgan snapped. ‘Nobody’s perfect!’
The haughty face took on an even more withdrawn expression. ‘I don’t believe insults are going to help the delicacy of this situation,’ he told her quietly.
‘Neither is your insensitivity,’ she glared at him. ‘My sister has just died,’ weakness washed over her in waves, ‘and now you calmly suggest I reject her son from my life—my own nephew, my parents’ only grandson!’ Her voice rose shrilly.
‘My nephew too, my mother’s only grandson,’ he pointed out dryly.
‘But not her only grandchild! And when you have a son—–’
‘The same applies to you in regard to your own parents.’
She gave an impatient sigh at the way this man had an answer for everything. ‘Giving up my guardianship of Court is not—–’
‘Courtney,’ he substituted firmly.
‘Court is short for—–’
‘He was named Courtney, let’s stick to that, shall we?’ he said abruptly.
‘I’m sure Glenna meant it to be shortened to Court, like my father,’ she insisted stubbornly.
‘But Glenna isn’t here—–’
‘You bastard!’ Morgan choked raggedly. ‘You cold-blooded, unfeeling bastard! You—–’ she sank slowly to the floor as blackness overcame her.
She woke up to find herself stretched full length on the corner unit sofa, her head propped up by several cushions, the darkly intent face of Alex Hammond bent over her. She snatched her hand away selfconsciously as she realised it was held between long tapered fingers, the fingers of the other hand lightly tapping against her pale cheek.
Alex Hammond moved back instantly and sat back on his heels, seeming unexerted from having to carry her to the sofa; and she might be thin, but she wasn’t a lightweight. Still, those shoulders and arms looked capable of great strength.
She sat up awkwardly, moving back and away from him. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said abruptly.
He nodded distantly. ‘I’ve been expecting something like it ever since I arrived and found