Sweet Lies

Yet even now, after all these years, and though she felt her defences weakening against him, she knew it was not only herself she had to protect from this dangerous man. She moved slightly away, carefully surrounding herself in a protective layer that she hoped he would find impregnable. His smouldering eyes held her trapped, and Megan tried to pull away as she felt her pathetic barriers begin to melt.

‘Have dinner with me tonight?’ he asked gruffly, his tone full of tension, a pulse throbbing in the strong line of his jaw. ‘Here in the hotel,’ he added quickly, seeing the refusal already present in her eyes.

‘No,’ she objected, too quickly, betraying her fear, her eyes straying to the door as she thought of Luke. He seized on her fear with characteristic aggression, a smile of victory already curling his sensuous mouth, revealing a set of perfect white teeth.

‘For old times’ sake,’ he crooned, his voice dangerously soft and a hidden invitation swirling in the slumberous depths of his hypnotic eyes. Megan nearly weakened, drowning all her doubts in the familiar glow of his heated gaze, her own eyes softening in response. ‘It’s the least you owe me.’

Steel had entered his voice, a harshness she had not expected, and her eyes leapt to his face, troubled by his words. But the freezing look of contempt that glistened in the icy depths of his eyes prevented her from speaking. She frantically searched his face, looking for a glimpse of the man she had once known.

‘Well, Meggie?’ he taunted, using her familiar pet name to weaken her still further. He had sensed her distrust and was playing on it, his eyes shining now with teasing laughter, and in that brief moment she caught a sudden flash of the man she had once known and loved. He reached out, placing his hand on her shoulder, and Megan’s stomach twirled with an instinctive excitement at the impact his unexpected touch had on her. And in that transient moment she might have weakened, but the door suddenly swung open.

An icy draught of cold air blasted towards them, chilling the warmth that had begun to grow between them. They both turned simultaneously to see a tousled-haired youngster with a harsh look of resentment on his face. He fixed his cold eyes on the pair of them, his disapproval at their close proximity apparent in his narrowing eyes and mounting frown.

For a moment he said nothing. His stare flicked quickly to Darrow, making a swift but comprehensive inventory of him, before he turned his attention back on to Megan. A look of scorn flickered across his face and he raised his eyebrows in mockery.

‘You’ve been ages,’ he said sullenly, directing his accusation at Megan and deliberately cutting out Darrow’s presence.

‘I’m sorry,’ Megan stated briefly, annoyed by his obvious rudeness. ‘I thought you were asleep,’ she concluded, casting an anxious covert glance at Darrow to see his reaction to her child. His eyes shone with curiosity, a quizzical expression on his face as he studied him with deep interest.

‘I woke up.’ It was a bald statement accompanied by another look of resentment, the dark brows drawing together over the glitter of frustration in his eyes.

‘Obviously,’ agreed Megan, calmly looking at her son who over the past few months had seemed to be slowly changing into a total stranger. His glandular fever hadn’t helped; it had left him a little weak, and Megan knew she was being over-protective but she couldn’t help herself, despite the resentment it caused in Luke. She was so frightened of the thought of losing him, just as she had lost his father, that she was totally confused as to how she should behave.

They had always been so close, him so caring and gentle, but now he was sometimes rude and often distant. A typical teenager, Megan tried to reassure herself, but his behaviour still hurt more deeply than she cared to admit. This chance of a holiday was just what they both needed to re-establish their bond. They faced each other now, an improbable discomfort widening the chasm that was beginning to develop between them. The deadly lull only added to the already tense atmosphere as the three of them stayed locked each in their own inner turmoil.

Megan was aware of the stiffening of Darrow beside her as he purposefully fixed his whole attention on Luke. Luke held his gaze with equal hostility and Darrow’s lips twisted as Luke continued to stare at him stubbornly with cold contempt. Megan found herself struggling to subdue a hysterical bubble of laughter that was growing with every passing moment. It was ironic for father and son to stand so close, watching each other with such deep interest, and be unaware of their relationship.

‘Are you coming now?’ demanded Luke, already turning to leave. Megan moved forward, following him anxiously. She desperately wanted to keep them well away from each other but Darrow’s arm shot out, gripping her tightly around the upper arm. His iron hold warned her that his formidable temper was about to erupt. Meggie’s head swirled around, her heart already thudding out a death-knell as she confronted the black darkness that filled his eyes. Had he realised the truth? she thought suddenly, feeling sick.

‘Who’s he?’ he bit out, the words sounding like a hiss as they escaped through his clenched teeth.

The furious tone of his voice seared through her body till every nerve tingled with foreboding, her mouth suddenly went dry and she flicked her tongue nervously over her lips. Her mind went blank. She stood rooted to the spot, her face draining of all colour as she faced the dark fury that was building with every passing moment. She could hear the frantic hammering of her heart against her tightening ribcage.

‘He’s my son,’ she managed at last, though her voice was a thin whisper of despair. His grip tightened at her words but he remained absolutely silent, his body rigid with tension. Megan knew he was fighting some inner doubt and she waited, mentally praying for her escape.

‘I didn’t know you had a child.’ His voice was a harsh whisper, as if some sharp pain was trapped in his throat. Megan looked at him anxiously, her whole body trembling as she watched his gaze switch swiftly back to Luke, staring at him with an intensity that unnerved her. She silently prayed over and over again that soon she would be free. The last thing she wanted was for Luke to find out the truth. Their relationship was already on thin ice at the moment. She had only recently heard the painful longing in his voice when he spoke of the father he had never known.

‘And the father?’ he drawled, his eyes darting back to hers and fixing on her with an icy intent. Megan felt a flush of colour to her face as she struggled to keep her emotions under control. She normally deftly avoided any questions, but she knew Darrow would not be so easily swayed.

‘Karl Meyer, my husband,’ she retorted, her voice growing stronger as she trotted out the well-worn lie. A lie she had been forced to invent to protect herself and her son against the pain of his rejection. Darrow’s eyebrow’s lifted slightly, his mouth thinning to an angry line.

‘And where’s Karl now?’ he demanded, the self-assurance in his voice irritating her more than she was willing to admit, even to herself.

‘My husband died several years ago,’ Megan replied frostily, hating the intrusion into her private life. He had given up his rights to that with his betrayal.

‘And he is your only child?’ he asked, a tightness in his voice as he looked deep into her eyes, and Megan quickly lowered her long lashes over her eyes to prevent him from seeing the truth that she knew she would be unable to hide from him.

‘Yes.’ Megan forced a smile, though her insides were churning with despair. Was he jealous or merely curious? she wondered, a sudden ache piercing her heart.

‘He doesn’t look like you…’

‘No,’ snapped Megan quickly. ‘He takes after his father.’ Her eyes couldn’t quite meet his as she replied.

‘Are you coming?’ Luke’s voice was sharp as he turned back, glaring at them both with obvious disapproval. Megan gave an apologetic smile to Darrow, but he seemed unperturbed by Luke’s rude outburst and strolled over to meet him. Luke watched his approach with caution, his face sulky, the silence only adding to the tense atmosphere. Darrow broke the silence with his customary ease, as if oblivious to the tension between the mother and her child.

‘My name is Darrow,’ he offered, his voice firm, full of authority. He stretched out his hand, his gesture more one of challenge than friendship, and Megan mentally prayed that Luke would respond. For a moment she thought her prayers had been wasted and her heart shrank within her as a sudden shaft of piercing pain seared through her. For a brief moment she thought her heart would break in two; just seeing them together held a bittersweet pain. ‘I’m an old friend of your mother’s,’ he continued, taking Luke’s hand in a firm grasp. ‘I was trying to persuade her to have dinner with me this evening.’

‘She can if she wants,’ muttered Luke, trying to sound careless, yet suddenly he seemed so vulnerable to Megan and her heart went out to him. The mask of manhood that he tried so hard to wear often slipped.

‘I had no idea she had to have your permission,’ drawled Darrow, with a friendly smile, but it was not returned. Luke was unable to match Darrow and did not know how to respond.

Megan joined them, part of her wanting them to at least like each other. Her eyes darted frantically from Luke to Darrow, sensing their disapproval of one another, and her heart slowly sank within her. It had been a fleeting dream that they had both shattered.

‘I knew Darrow a long time ago, Luke,’ Megan explained breathlessly, the pain catching in her throat at the obvious antipathy. Luke nodded in acknowledgement but said nothing; his eyes were fixed on Darrow with deep interest and suspicion.

‘Come on, we’d best get settled in,’ cajoled Megan, tossing the keys in her hand in a carefree gesture that was far removed from her true feelings. She knew now that her return was on a disaster course, but she was powerless to do anything about it. She turned as she opened the door to allow Luke to leave, then she turned back to Darrow, and forced her voice to sound light, almost friendly.

‘It was nice to see you again, Darrow.’ Her cool tone did not betray the turmoil of emotions that were twirling around inside. ‘Perhaps we’ll meet again some time,’ she added, confident that she would not see him again, and yet that caused a sharp pain deep down inside.

Darrow’s mouth widened into a perfect smile, triumph curling the corners of his sensuous mouth as he viewed Megan with a cool air of superiority. Megan shuddered as her eyes rose to his, trying to fathom where his amusement came from and not trusting him an inch. She knew him too well to be fooled by his casual stance. His hand rested on the door-handle, opening it still wider to allow her to leave.

‘No doubt we will,’ he agreed, in a smoky voice that put Megan on edge, every nerve in her body suddenly alerted to some hidden danger.

‘What do you mean?’ she breathed raggedly, hating the storm of emotion that was sweeping through her body. His smile twisted in cruelty and his eyebrows rose in mockery; a rumble of laughter sounded deep in his chest.

‘You mean you really don’t know?’ he asked in disbelief, the mocking light in his eyes holding her trapped, unable to move.

‘Know? Know what?’ demanded Megan, a spiral of fear twisting up her spine and a cold dread seeping over her trembling frame.

Darrow inclined his head backwards. ‘This is mine—my hotel, my complex.’ The cold, proud possession in his voice confirmed what he was saying, and Megan gasped in horror.

‘Yours?’ she whispered in disbelief, hoping for a denial and yet already knowing it was the truth. Her heart shrank within her. She had been such a fool, allowing the travel agent to make all the arrangements. She would have certainly noticed the name of the proprietor, and never would even have dreamt of coming here, and now it was too late. She knew there was little chance of accommodation anywhere else in peak season, and besides, she didn’t want to give him the impression that his presence made any difference to her.

‘Yes, Megan, mine,’ he replied in a controlled voice, but Megan could see the malice in the depths of his ruthless eyes. ‘I told you I’d make it one day.’ The coldness of his attitude frightened her; his face had become distorted with anger and hate. ‘It’s a pity you couldn’t have kept your promise and waited for me,’ he snarled, the bitter rage spilling out, and Megan flinched at the anger in his tone.

She felt her anger flare up inside her and she tried hard to control her temper. Her fists tightened into balls of rage as she glared back at him, unable to comprehend the injustice of his remark. ‘I’m so pleased you’ve been successful,’ she admitted, resenting the sacrifices she had made to make him a success.

‘Are you?’ he mocked, his expression challenging, but his voice was flat.

‘Of course I am,’ she said with forced brightness, as a sharp pain of regret fleetingly touched her deeply, and yet it was the truth. It made it all worthwhile. It justified her deceit, vanquished any last doubts she had had. All the lies, her struggles, the loneliness of her life now made sense, and yet a sting of bitterness cut into her as she remembered all the hardships she had faced alone just so he could fulfil his ambition.

He had always been ambitious; Rannaleigh had never seemed big enough to contain him. He had loved the idea of America—the size, the challenge, the thought of being a success in a big way through his writing. Megan had known that until he tried he would never be satisfied, so she had given him his freedom, expecting his return, but then she had lost him forever to someone else.

‘You don’t look it.’ Darrow noted, inclining his head closer to hers so he could get an even clearer view of her troubled expression.

‘I’m sorry, I was thinking of something else,’ Megan confessed, her mind coming back to the present with difficulty as the familiar smell of his aftershave filled her senses. His dark eyes fixed on her, studying her closely for a moment.

‘Thinking what a foolish mistake you made running off and marrying someone else instead of waiting for me?’ he jeered cruelly, seeming oblivious to the sorrow growing in her misty eyes.

Megan reached out and touched his arm. The smooth cloth of his expensive suit could not hide the hard ripple of tension that ran the length of his arm. ‘It wasn’t like that…’ she protested, shocked by the cruelty of his words.

‘Wasn’t it?’

‘Darrow, please…’ she began, suddenly wanting to explain, regardless of his reaction and despite the terrible repercussions it would cause in her own life.

He pulled back, his body as tense as an over-strung violin, and with a harsh expression that barely concealed how much he despised her. His face was set in sharp, rigid lines, grim and furious, and his eyes were as black and as bitter as over-stewed coffee.

Megan stepped back, fearful of the anger and hate that crackled beneath his thin veneer of control.

‘Darrow, please,’ he mocked back, imitating her voice roughly. ‘The truth hurts, does it?’ he sneered, allowing her to feel the weight of his full contempt.

‘Truth? Truth?’ she repeated, matching his anger with her own. ‘What would you know of truth?’ she flung back at him.

Megan pulled away from him and rushed out of the door, hot, salty tears splashing down her face at the injustice of it all. She knew she shouldn’t have come back.

CHAPTER TWO

MEGAN rubbed the back of her hand over her face in an attempt to erase the sorrow from her face. She couldn’t allow Luke to see her distress. He was far too astute and was bound to question her until she told him the whole story, and that she could never do. It would be a total betrayal of their lives together.

‘Who’s he?’ Luke snapped as she slid into the car beside him, shoving the papers from the receptionist on to his lap and starting the engine immediately.

‘Darrow Maine,’ Megan answered abruptly, a rasp burning the back of her throat as she struggled to keep her emotions under control. ‘An old friend,’ she added, hopeful that that piece of information would be all he required.

‘I see,’ he mumbled, too engrossed in the papers to notice the fearful glance his mother flicked to him as she caught the undercurrent in his tone. Megan felt herself forced to say more. It was inevitable that they would bump into Darrow and she wanted their meetings to be as uneventful as possible.

‘He owns the hotel and complex,’ she explained as she craned her neck to see the names that were painted on small posts along the roadside. She carefully steered the car into the space next to their lodge, flicking off the engine with a weary sigh.

‘Does he?’ Luke asked with interest as he opened the car door. ‘He must be loaded.’

‘Does everything nowadays have to be valued on monetary worth?’ Megan retorted, exasperated by her son’s apparent obsession with material wealth and desperately wondering if she had failed him in some way. They seemed slowly to be drifting apart, and Megan was determined to stop the slow deterioration of their relationship. She had struggled too hard for too long on her own to let it just fade away. It had been one long struggle bringing up a child alone, trying to make ends meet on the meagre amount she managed to earn. She pulled their luggage from the boot, offering him the cases which he accepted with a grin.

‘What other type of value is there?’ he asked, ducking as Megan took a friendly swoop at his head. ‘Come on we’d best unpack something, even if it’s only something for tonight.’ He laughed as Megan locked the car.

‘Tonight?’ Megan asked, a frisson of alarm racing down her spine as she caught the excitement in his tone.

‘Yes, had you not been so engrossed in conversation you would have seen the posters,’ he informed her as they entered their lodge. He dropped the luggage immediately, racing over to the patio doors and pulling them open with enthusiasm. ‘Hey, get a look at this view,’ he called, his eyes scanning over the flat mirror of water and the range of mountains that rose up as a backdrop.

‘What posters?’ Megan asked anxiously as she joined him on the patio, leaning on the wall and soaking in the beautiful scene that eased her troubled soul. She wrapped a protective arm over his shoulders and he leant against her.

Megan’s heart filled with emotion. This holiday was so important after the strain of this last year. It was a chance for them to be together again without the distractions of work, and Megan was determined that it would help to heal the rift that was growing between them. He needed to build up his confidence again as it had taken such a bad knock since his illness.

‘It’s all there.’ Luke jerked his head to the disarray of papers that he had dropped to the floor, scattering them everywhere. ‘Party-time starts at eight o’clock prompt, and I get the impression that Darrow Maine would not like to be kept waiting,’ he concluded, moving back into the large lounge with Megan following with a sinking heart.

‘You want to go, do you?’ she asked, forcing a brighter tone into her voice and suffocating her sense of desperation. She picked up the papers and pushed them back into a neat pile, her heart already thudding out a death-knell at his anticipated answer.

‘Dead right I do,’ he answered quickly. ‘They’re going to tell us what’s on offer and I want to know,’ he said, snatching up his own cases. ‘It’s about time I took up sport seriously again. I’m not even on the first team any more. Don’t you want to go?’ he asked, stopping to await her answer. A frown of disappointment was forming over his bright eyes.

‘Of course,’ she replied brightly, flashing him a smile and forcing her personal doubts from her mind. She couldn’t bear to disappoint Luke. They depended on one another so much, their relationship all the more intense because they had only ever had each other. Megan had had a couple of boyfriends, but no one could ever match Darrow or come between her and Luke. This was their holiday, a much deserved rest, and she knew how much he wanted to get back on the school’s first team, and no one, not even Darrow Maine, was going to spoil his chance of that.

Megan’s eyes quickly darted around the room. It was filled with a mixture of people, young and old, sporty types and the more sedate, but thankfully there was no trace of Darrow. She sank gratefully into a Victorian tub chair that had been carefully restored and reupholstered in a tartan fabric that matched the heavy curtains and swags decorating the expansive windows which gave a unique view of the rolling hills and the lake below. Luke had disappeared immediately after collecting her a glass of the delicate sparkling wine that was being offered to all guests.

‘I’ve just found a fantastic computer-room,’ he said, rushing back with a wicked grin, and Megan raised her eyebrows in despair. There was little chance of seeing him again for some time, she thought, taking a sip of her wine and nodding her approval as he disappeared again.

‘Can I tempt you?’ Darrow raised an oval platter of canapés towards Megan, taking her by surprise. Her heart thudded rapidly before settling back into a steady rhythm.

‘I’d love one,’ she agreed, suddenly feeling hungry and delighting in the selection she was being offered. ‘I had no idea you acted as waiter as well,’ she joked lightly, sensing that his gesture was meant as an attempt at goodwill.

‘I don’t normally, but I thought I would make an exception in your case.’ His voice was low and warm and she treasured the sound of it. Megan glanced up and his dark eyes held her.

‘Why?’

‘I’m sorry about before. It just came as a shock—you, married.’

‘I did write and tell you I was considering Karl’s proposal,’ she replied lightly. She had hoped for a different response but he had not even bothered to reply to her letter, which had only served to confirm her fears that he had found someone else.

‘And with a son,’ he continued, unaware of her words. His smile faded slightly and a cold chill swept over her, but she nodded, trying to simplify the hundreds of questions that churned over and over in her mind. She tilted back her chin, not wanting to give the impression that she cared.

‘You never married, then?’ she asked.

Her heart skipped a beat as she waited for his answer, preparing to hear for herself the confirmation that he had betrayed their love.

‘Never.’

It wasn’t the answer she had expected. It was like a sharp slap in the face and shock was quickly replaced by anger.

‘Not married!’ she exclaimed, more angry with herself than him. It was so unfair.

‘I nearly took the plunge,’ he said calmly, unaware of the searing, heated anger that tore through her body. All her noble sacrifices had been a waste, she thought. She was just the first, no doubt, in a long line of foolish women who had thought he was capable of commitment. She tried vainly to appear indifferent to this revelation but she was burning with curiosity and fury. She had been told by his mother, Janet, that he was having a serious relationship. She had told her clearly that marriage was round the corner, and Megan hadn’t had the confidence to question her. She’d felt so foolish. Megan recalled how she had feigned indifference to the news although her heart had been breaking. Had it all been lies? She had to know.

‘Cold feet?’ She tried to keep her voice light and joky, but she had been a victim of his sense of humour and her amusement was hollow. He shrugged.

‘In a way. I just realised it would have been a mistake, so I called it off.’

‘I see.’

Megan didn’t want to probe any deeper. For some reason the thought of him caring for someone else hurt her more deeply than she was prepared to admit, even to herself.

‘Your marriage was happy?’ he commented, his voice strained but cool, and Megan felt the familiar panic that rose in her chest whenever her marriage was mentioned. She kept her lids lowered over her startled eyes to prevent him from seeing the truth she knew would be shining there.