Their Wedding Day

The ruby-red lipstick looked rather stark against her pale skin but she had read in last Sunday’s newspaper that vibrant shades were part of power dressing and gave a woman clout. Rowena was not about to appear wimpish to her rival. She might be a housewife but she was no walkover.

She brushed her fingers across the fringe that kept the thick curtain of her black hair from falling over her face. It needed a trim. Maybe she should have done something dramatic like getting her hair cut into a short-cropped style, make Phil take a second look at her, but he had always said he liked her hair long. The shoulder-length bob with the soft, razor-cut wisps that framed her face did suit her, and she had washed and blow-dried it to shiny perfection.

She fiddled with the red and green silk scarf she had tied around her neck to add some bold colour to her navy suit, then told herself she was dithering for no good reason and alighted from the car. She looked as good as she could in the circumstances. She hadn’t let herself go. Her figure was slightly more rounded, more womanly than it had been before she had had children, but she certainly wasn’t sloppy.

Whatever Phil had told his other woman about her, she was about to come face to face with the truth, Rowena thought, holding grimly to her purpose as she locked the car and turned to walk to the elevators. She checked her watch. Eleventhirty. Time enough to say all she wanted to say before the lunch break.

A classy BMW swept into the car park and took the space beside the elevators. Rowena froze. It had to be Keir Delahunty, the one man whose path she least wanted to cross, especially today of all days!

It was difficult enough to come to terms with the fact that Keir was Phil’s boss and always being mentioned when Phil talked about his work. She wished the job at Delahunty’s had never come up. Or been won by some other applicant. Anything to be spared the connection to Keir and the memories he evoked.

No matter how better off they were financially from Phil’s move to Delahunty’s, it had been disastrous in every other sense, Rowena reflected miserably. First the unsettling effect of having Keir on the fringe of her life, and now this woman threatening her marriage. Having to face both of them was too much this morning. Better to go back to her car and wait until Keir had gone.

His car door opened, head and shoulders rising above the bonnet. There was no mistaking those broad shoulders and the thick dark hair. She started to turn away, feeling agitated at the loss of time, but more agitated at the thought of being caught with Keir Delahunty and having to share an elevator with him. Did he know what was going on between Phil and another one of his employees?

“Rowena…”

Her heart stopped. No avoiding him now. He’d seen and recognised her. He’d recognised her instantly at the company Christmas party a year ago, despite not having seen her since she was seventeen. Their association had been too long, too close—all her childhood and adolescent years—for him to forget her face. And, of course, there were other things that were unforgettable, however much one might want to block them out.

But she mustn’t think about that now. She had to come up with some bright small chat to get her through the next few minutes. She took a deep breath to steady herself and turned to him with what she hoped was a surprised smile.

“Keir…” She forced her legs into resuming their walk towards the elevators. He remained by his car, clearly waiting for her and expecting some polite exchange between them. “How is everything going for you?” she asked.

“Fine! And you?”

She ignored that question in favour of concentrating on him. A brilliant architect and an astute property developer, Keir Delahunty had not let the grass grow under his feet over the last few years. While he’d established a highly reputable name on the northern side of Sydney Harbour, he was now spreading his business interests to other parts of the city.

“I loved your design for the town houses at Manly,” she said with genuine admiration. “Phil showed me through them. They’ve all been sold already, haven’t they?”

“Yes. They went quickly.” He smiled, and in his eyes was the warm appreciation of a man who liked what he heard. It surprised her when he remarked, “You look very chic this morning.”

“Thank you. It’s kind of you to say so.”

It was a boost to her confidence. If Keir Delahunty thought her attractive today, she had certainly covered up the ravages of last night’s despair. Not that she welcomed such a personal comment from him. It was far too late, with far too much water under the bridge for her to want to be reminded of the attraction—the love on her side—that had been so cruelly severed eleven years ago.

He’d been handsome at twenty-four but he was even more impressive now, exuding the kind of effortless assurance and authority that came with a long line of successes in his chosen field. The terrible injuries he’d sustained in the accident that had killed her brother had left no lasting mark on him. He stood tall and strong and moved with the easy coordination of an athlete in top condition. Not for him the consequences that had torn her family apart.

Was he aware that she was facing a more immediate, more personal family break-up? Had Phil been indiscreet in pursuing this office affair? Why had Keir made a point of stopping to speak to her?

“I’m afraid you’re in for a disappointment if you’ve come to see Phil. I left him to do a valuation of a warehouse at Pyrmont. He won’t be back until well after lunch.”

The information was welcome. “Thank you, but it’s someone else I want to see,” she said, her inner tension bringing a brittle tone to her voice.

Keir’s deep brown eyes scanned hers sharply as she drew level with him. Had he sensed something wrong? She quickly moved towards the closest elevator, acutely conscious of him falling into step beside her. He pressed the up button. The doors slid open immediately, much to Rowena’s relief. Another minute at most and she could escape from his disturbing interest.

A Christmas holly decoration was pinned to the back wall of the elevator. Christmas only ten days away. How could Phil leave her and the children at such an important family time? And the woman…She must be young and thoughtless and selfish to ask it of him. Or didn’t she know about the children? She soon would, Rowena vowed.

“It’s been a year since we last met,” Keir remarked casually, gesturing for her to enter the compartment ahead of him. “I was looking forward to seeing you at the company Christmas party last Friday. Was there a problem with the children?”

A tide of heat swept up Rowena’s neck and scorched her cheeks. Phil had lied to her about that, too, telling her the party was limited to staff only this year. She moved slowly to the rear of the elevator, hoping Keir hadn’t noticed her embarrassment.

“I had another engagement,” she said, instinctively covering up her husband’s deception. It was too humiliating to admit. She didn’t want to encourage any enquiries about the children, either. That was too close to all she had to contain.

“I wondered if you were avoiding me,” Keir said quietly.

Such loaded words.

They pressed on Rowena’s heart and constricted her chest. Why now? she railed desperately. She didn’t need this on top of everything else she had to contend with. Pride forced her to swing around and face him as he followed her into the compartment.

“Why on earth should you think that?” she asked with what she hoped was credible astonishment.

His swift scrutiny was offset by a shrug. “Because of Brett’s death. You could have ended up blaming me, as your parents did.”

“You know I didn’t. I visited you in hospital.”

His eyes seemed to take on a piercing intensity. “Did you receive my letter, Rowena?”

She stared at him in confusion. Only days after Brett’s funeral Keir had been flown to the United States for highly specialised corrective surgery, and that had been the end of any contact between them.

“When?” The word sounded like a croak from her throat.

“I wrote from the clinic in California. You didn’t reply.”

She shook her heard. “There was no letter.”

He frowned. “I thought…assumed…”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now, does it?” she cut in.

There was simply no point in a post-mortem over what might have been. Keir could have written again if she’d been really important to him. Or looked her up when he came home all repaired and fit to pick up his life. The past was gone. To open that sealed compartment and invite the old pain out into the open was more than she could handle. It was the present she had to deal with, and Keir was delaying her for no good purpose.

She forced a smile to mitigate any offence in the abrupt snub. “Would you press the button for reception, please?”

With a look of ironic resignation he turned to the control panel, lifted a finger, then unaccountably hesitated, passing over the button she had requested and pressing the one for Close Doors. He then faced her with a direct inquiry.

“Whom have you come to see, Rowena? I know all my employees and the departments in which they work. There’s no need for you to stop at reception. I can direct you to the floor you want.”

It sounded friendly and helpful, but Rowena wished she could die on the spot. She wanted to say it was none of his business. The expression in his eyes told her it was his business. Everything that happened in this building was his business.

It was a bitterly capricious stroke of fate that her arrival in the car park had coincided with his. Here she was, trapped with him in a confined space, his eyes asking her for a direct reply. Even as she frantically sought some evasive explanation for her visit, the certainty came to her that he knew why she had come and what she meant to do.

Maybe the affair had been carried on so blatantly it was common knowledge throughout the whole building. Rowena inwardly cringed at the thought. Then pride clawed through the miserable weight of humiliation, pride and a fierce maternal need to fight for her children’s emotional security. She had done nothing wrong. What other people thought did not matter when so much of real importance was at stake.

She aimed a direct appeal at the man who had the power to stop her. “I’ve come to talk to Adriana Leigh.”

He held her gaze for several fraught moments, then slowly nodded. “Adriana works in an open floor area, Rowena,” he said gently. “I’m sure you’d prefer complete privacy for your talk to her.”

“I’m not exactly overwhelmed with choices,” she confessed, her courage deflating at the idea of a public audience.