Back In The Lion's Den

CHAPTER TWO

SHADOW—so named because of the patch of black fur covering the whole of one side of his head and one floppy ear—was barking frantically at the front door by the time Sienna reached it.

‘Conan!’ She didn’t know why she sounded surprised. She had known he would come.

The dog was leaping excitedly up at him, with no regard for his designer tailoring, while Conan, with a face like granite, stood rigidly impervious, his nostrils flaring and his olive skin infused with something almost akin to anger.

‘I’m sorry. He isn’t usually like this,’ Sienna apologised, rushing forward to grab the dog’s collar. In fact, after bringing the six month old Shadow home from an animal rescue centre two years ago, she had been pleased when her pet had flown through obedience classes with the equivalent of a doggy distinction. Rather grudgingly though she decided that just the mere sight of a man like Conan Ryder was enough to make even a mere animal forget its manners.

‘May I come in?’

With every nerve on alert, still holding the dog’s collar, Sienna backed away to admit him.

Immediately the walls of the narrow passageway seemed to close in on all sides, the space between them shrunk by his imposing physique.

With a tightness in her chest, Sienna took another step back for an entirely different reason, releasing the dog which, after one brave sniff at the man’s black designer shoes, trotted off to the comfort of the living room.

Her mouth dry, Sienna demanded, ‘What’s this all about, Conan? Because if it’s about Daisy you’ve had a wasted journey. I thought I made my position clear this afternoon.’

For a split second something flared in his eyes. Anger? Retaliation? She wasn’t sure. But with that strong self-command she had always envied about him he brought it under control, only the muscle that pulled in his darkly shadowed jaw disclosing any other sign of emotion.

‘We parted on a rather bad note today. I thought it only right to try and rectify that.’

Oh, did you?

His dark head tilted towards the door at the end of the passageway, his meaning obvious, while an arresting movement of his devastating mouth caused a peculiar flutter in the pit of her stomach.

Conan Ryder being hostile was something she could deal with. Conan being charming was far more dangerous to her equilibrium.

‘You’d better come through.’ She wondered if he had detected that nervous note in her voice, and as she went ahead of him along the passageway could almost feel his eyes boring through her tight black T-shirt and jeans.

Too aware of him as she led him into her tiny sitting room, she sensed his brooding gaze moving critically over its rather jaded décor. ‘Sit down.’ She looked around the cramped little room in dismay. ‘If you can find a space.’ She darted to remove the pile of ironing from her one easy chair, dragging toys and a jigsaw puzzle box off the worn, rather lumpy-looking settee beside it.

Ignoring her, he was looking around at the rather shabby and tired-looking furnishings, the few sparse pieces of furniture that made up a wooden table and chairs, a rather stressed bookcase, a modest hi-fi system and her television.

‘Is this how you’re living?’ Censure marked the hard lines of his face.

Eyeing him resentfully, with a pile of freshly ironed garments supported on her hip, Sienna snapped, ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

Conan’s mouth pulled down hard on one side. ‘A bit of a change, isn’t it, from what you were used to?’

‘At least it’s all paid for!’ It was an anguished throwback to the girl who had blindly accepted every luxury without question—only to find herself plunged into widowhood with nothing but loneliness, a precious little toddler and a whole heap of debt.

‘With what?’ Derision laced Conan’s voice as he sliced another detrimental glance around the sad little living space, finishing up on Shadow who was gazing up at him from his shabbily cushioned basket with suspicious eyes. ‘You can scarcely earn much from that menial job you do at that gym.’

‘And what’s it to you?’ She hadn’t meant to snap. He’d come to try and patch things up, after all. But his criticism of her home and his disparaging reference to what she did when she had trained so hard—worked so hard—to keep a roof over her and Daisy’s head was proving more than she could take.

‘Everything—if I think my niece is being deprived of the most essential necessities when she could be benefiting from the help that her mother is too proud—or to selfish—even to consider.’

Sienna’s hackles rose—not least because she was sometimes worried that her daughter was missing out on some of the things her little friends obviously enjoyed. Like bouncy castles on her birthday and pretty clothes; like the reliability of a car that wasn’t breaking down every five minutes. Like a father who hadn’t died and left her …

Regret mingled with anger—the anger she often reproached herself for feeling towards Niall and the way he had died when it had all been so avoidable. So pointless …

‘Proud and selfish you might think me,’ she quoted, pulling herself up to her full five feet four inches to face Niall’s brother with a display of composure she was far from feeling, ‘and perhaps I am. But as far as what I said to you three years ago, when you very kindly condescended to offer us financial assistance goes …’ Her voice dripped pure venom. ‘I don’t retract a single word.’

The animosity she felt towards him lay thickly on the air between them. Conan felt it like a live thing, along with the silent, anguished accusation that rose like a torturing spectre from the darkest recesses of his mind.

You didn’t want to help us when Niall was alive! We can do without any help from you now!

Heavily, with some private emotion seeming to stretch the skin taut across his prominent cheekbones, he pointed out, ‘Even if Daisy suffers because of it?’

‘She won’t,’ Sienna returned, with more conviction than she was feeling, glancing down at Shadow, who was making rather indelicate grunting noises as he delved violently into his fur.

‘Then at least allow her to see her grandmother.’ His denigrating glance towards the basket told her he probably didn’t approve of her dog either. ‘You have a duty, Sienna. To Niall’s family as well as your own.’

‘Duty?’ She almost laughed in his face. What right had he to talk about duty when he had never really cared about his half-brother? When he had turned his back on him when Niall had needed him most? ‘He never asked you for anything,’ she accused bitterly, wanting to drive away memories that were too painful to remember. ‘When he did …’ She had to swallow to continue. ‘He looked up to you and he needed you. He was desperate,’ she muttered, ‘and you just weren’t there for him.’

‘And you think I killed him? Drove him to drink so much that he overbalanced on that bridge when he took up his friends’ ridiculous challenge to walk along that wall? Isn’t that what you said?’

There was raw emotion in his voice—in the perfect structure of his hard-hewn features. Had he loved his brother after all? Despite everything? Or was it just a pricking of his conscience that was responsible for the darkening of his amazing eyes.

‘I didn’t know what I was saying.’ Vainly she strove to redress the situation, to justify what she had thoughtlessly flung at him because of his accusations. If he’d loved Niall half as much as she had they would have lain heavily—would still lie heavily—on his conscience. ‘As I said earlier—I’d just lost my husband.’

‘And I’d lost a brother.’

She was right. Her words had left an indelible mark on him. She could see it—hear it in the dark resonant depths of his voice.

For a moment they faced each other like warring combatants—Sienna with her cheeks flushed, eyes glittering defensively, Conan’s olive features tinged with angry colour.

He was every bit the Celt, Sienna decided distractedly, from his thick black hair to his strong, proud Gaelic bone structure. In his pride and in his daunting self-sufficiency. In that unmistakable air of command that surrounded him, which made him lead where other men could merely follow. Both brothers had been handsome men. Niall had had the cheek and the charm of his mother’s Celtic bloodline, but it was Conan who bore his Irish ancestry like a blazing flag.

‘My mother’s unwell,’ he stated, quietly and succinctly. ‘She’s very unwell.’ In fact the doctors had told him that Avril Ryder didn’t seem to have the will to recover. The dark fringes of his lashes came down to veil his eyes. ‘I’ve brought her to stay with me in France.’ He owned a spectacular villa these days on the Côte d’Azur, Sienna remembered from an article she had read about him. ‘She needs cheering up, and I know her greatest wish is to see her only grandchild. You will come with Daisy, of course—I wouldn’t expect anything else—and with the holidays coming up, I’ll expect you to stay for the summer.’

A strong refusal sprang to Sienna’s lips—but she couldn’t express it. If the Ryders—Conan especially—only wanted to salve their consciences by making up for lost time with Daisy, that was one thing. They could go whistle for all she cared. But from the look on his face as he’d told her about his mother things sounded pretty serious. What if this was the last chance Daisy might have of seeing her grandmother? Sienna found herself considering reluctantly. Wouldn’t she be doing her daughter a grave injustice by refusing to let her go? And if Avril Ryder was that sick …

The holidays were coming up, as he had said and her regular classes were coming to an end. She found herself assessing the matter before she had fully realised it. She did have individual training sessions to honour. Also, she couldn’t afford to take that much time off without it eating severely into her already frugal budget. But if she did give in and condescend to grant his wishes, she’d be darned if she’d let Daisy go anywhere—or stay anywhere—without her!

‘I—I can’t take that much time off,’ she found herself eventually admitting hesitantly. Though her ethics might be forcing her to do what anyone with half a conscience would do, she didn’t want to suffer the indignity of Niall’s brother guessing just how little money she had, or just how hard she was struggling to make ends meet. ‘I would if I could, but I can’t.’

Conan’s eyes moved reflectively over her pleasingly toned and agile figure.

Of course, he thought, with an introspective smile touching the firm line of his mouth. He’d guessed she could use her job as an excuse. But women like her could be bought—for a price. Hadn’t he seen evidence of it in the luxuries she had demanded from her husband? In the clothes and the designer jewellery? In the fast car she’d been happy to buy out of his limited funds before she’d found herself more interesting fish to fry?

‘Wives don’t come cheap, bruv … as you’ve yet to find out.’ Across the years he heard his late brother’s almost bragging statement after he’d warned Niall about his spending, and remembered, some time later, accusing Sienna of taking his brother for every penny she could get.

‘I will pay you what you earn—I’ll triple it,’ he assured her coldly. The reminder of the type of woman she was had turned his heart to stone.

Now, why didn’t that offer surprise her? she thought grimly.

‘That’s very generous of you.’ Sienna gave him a bright, unfaltering smile. ‘But can you safeguard my position until I come back?’

‘If I have to.’

Of course. The Conan Ryders of this world could get anything they wanted. They snapped their fingers and lesser mortals jumped to do their bidding. How stupid of her even to ask!

‘I take it, then, that that’s a yes?’ he pressed.

She didn’t answer, deciding to wait to tell him that if she did agree to what he wanted she had no intention of taking a penny of his precious money. Why spoil his mean and miserable opinion of her? she thought, following his gaze to where it was resting on Shadow, who was making violent sucking noises now as he burrowed with increasing ferocity into his fur.

‘Does that dog of yours have a problem with ticks?’

‘No, he doesn’t!’ What was the emotion that was turning down the corners of his superbly masculine mouth? she wondered. Disapproval? Dislike? And why was she even looking at his mouth? she thought, annoyed with herself. Let alone considering it superb?

Refraining from telling him that Shadow’s problem sprang from rolling on a chocolate wrapper while on his walk this evening, much to the surprise and angry retaliation of a few disgruntled wasps, she enquired breezily, ‘Don’t you like dogs?’

A broad shoulder lifted beneath the tailored jacket. ‘I can take them or leave them. Let’s just say I wouldn’t choose to share my home with one.’

Well, tough! Sienna thought, but said brightly, and with some relish, ‘That’s all right, then. Because if you want to take Daisy and me away with you for the summer I’m afraid you’re going to have to take us all.’

‘I thought you said Conan never had much time for his brother?’ Faith Swann commented when Sienna rang her parents to tell them where she would be going and why. ‘That he was positively heartless towards him, and that Avril Ryder was always making you feel inferior and criticising the way you were bringing up my granddaughter?’ Faith was fiercely protective of those she loved, and was constantly trying to persuade Sienna to bring Daisy to join her and her husband in Spain.

‘He was—and she was,’ Sienna averred, and though she hated having to acknowledge it she said, sighing, ‘But they’re Daisy’s family too. And no matter how they treated me, or Niall, as his mother’s not well I have to go.’

‘I expect he can be quite persuasive,’ her mother was remarking distractedly about her late son-in-law’s brother. ‘I only saw him in the flesh that once …’ She meant at the wedding. ‘But I saw a picture of him recently in one of our English newspapers,’ Faith continued. ‘He’s quite a looker, isn’t he? Not so obviously handsome as Niall was, but the more moody and magnificent type that a lot of women go for. At least he looked moody in that photograph,’ she added with a little chuckle. ‘Probably because he was caught hurrying from the executive lounge of some airport with his latest adoring companion. You know that chat show hostess? Petra Somebody-or-other?’

‘Petra Flax,’ Sienna supplied, not unfamiliar with the raven-haired beauty whose twice-weekly programme was a little too gossipy for her own taste.

‘Just wait until I tell the regulars and our friends at the golf club that my daughter’s hobnobbing with the likes of Conan Ryder.’

‘Mum!’ Sienna burst out, cringing at her mother’s penchant for dropping names—the more influential the better. ‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t.’

‘Don’t be silly,’ Faith remonstrated, having clearly lapped up the news that Sienna was going to be in the bosom of her late husband’s family. ‘I’m proud that my daughter had the good sense to marry a man with such illustrious connections. So should you be.’

‘Yes, Mum.’ Sienna sighed resignedly, reminded of how much her mother enjoyed basking in other people’s reflected glory, and remembering that it was those very traits of Faith Swann’s that had gone a long way to letting Sienna and her family down with Avril Ryder and her friends on that one inauspicious occasion when their families had met.

‘Don’t take any notice of your mother. She means well,’ Barry Swann placated, when he came on the line to talk to his daughter. ‘I know you’ve always liked to play things close to your chest, but just remember we’re here, love, if you need us. For anything at all.’

Strangely, that simple token of kindness from her father produced a welling of emotion in Sienna.

She’d never worried her parents with the reason for her estrangement from Niall’s family, or with the extent of Conan’s accusations—that he’d not only as good as accused her of being a gold-digger, but also of cheating on his brother. If she had, her father would have come over here to sort him out, she thought sadly, yet with a wry grimace, because she didn’t give much for the chances of anyone who tried locking horns with Conan Ryder.

And anyway, what could she tell them? That Conan was right? That the morning he’d come looking for her to tell her that her husband had died he’d discovered she’d spent the night in another man’s flat.

She shuddered at the prospect of all the hurt and anger that would follow if she did disclose the truth to them. She couldn’t.

Wouldn’t! she vowed grittily, aching under the weight of it.

‘Thanks, Dad,’ she murmured gratefully, and rang off.

‘So who’s this guy you’re going to be spending the summer with?’ Jodie Fisher asked as Sienna, returning from some last minute shopping before Conan arrived to pick them up, joined her on her porch after locking up her clapped out little red saloon.

‘He’s my brother-in-law—and I’m not spending the summer with him, as such,’ she corrected, keen to dispel any hopes her neighbour—a wild-haired blonde, who was noticeably pregnant and the mother of a four-year old—might be harbouring about her having designs on any man … least of all Conan Ryder. ‘Well I am, but not in the way you think. My mother-in-law’s sick,’ she outlined, feeling a nagging unease about how the woman would receive her. She didn’t elaborate to Jodie. Although Jodie was a good friend, often looking after Daisy at a moment’s notice—as she had done today—Sienna hadn’t confided to her exactly what the situation was with her late husband’s family. Such things were private. She had simply told Jodie that they lived miles away and she didn’t see them very often.

‘You wouldn’t be lying to me now, would you?’ Jodie’s attention was caught by something over Sienna’s shoulder. ‘Great Jumping Jacks! Wowee! Is that a BMW? Or is that a BMW? Is that him? No, don’t tell me! Let me guess! He’s pulling in here. It’s him! What I wouldn’t give for a brother-in-law who looked like that!’

Jodie was clearly knocked sideways. But why the man made every woman who cast eyes on him want to swoon at his feet was beyond her, Sienna though grudgingly, with a careless glance over her shoulder. Yet the dark magnetism of the man behind the wheel of the graphite grey monster that had just pulled up in front of her own pathetic little excuse for a car caused a peculiar fluttering way down in her stomach.

‘It isn’t what you think, Jodie,’ Sienna told her when her friend continued to stand there agog. ‘You’ve got a one-track mind where anyone who isn’t hitched and as happy as you are—i.e. single and content—is concerned.’