Sweet Lies

‘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.