Their Wedding Day

“May I suggest you use my office? I can call Adriana to come there, and I guarantee you’ll both be left alone together to say whatever you wish to say.”

Once again unruly heat burned into Rowena’s cheeks. His sympathy to her plight was somehow shaming, yet to reject it was self-defeating. “Does everyone know?” The painful question slid off her tongue before she could clamp down on it.

“There’s been gossip.”

She closed her eyes, swallowed hard. “How long…how long has it been going on?”

“I don’t know, Rowena.” He paused, then quietly added, “More than three months.”

Phil had bought the sports car three months ago. Last night’s despair pressed in again. But she had come to try for a different outcome, to salvage what might not be a total wreckage. She had to try. She would try. She mentally constructed a protective shell around herself and opened her eyes. Keir was watching her, waiting for her decision, his expression carefully neutral.

“Your offer is…very kind,” she said with as much dignity as she could muster. “Thank you. I’ll take it.”

He turned to the control panel. The elevator started to rise. Rowena fought to keep her composure and her resolve. She watched the floor numbers light up above the doors. They were travelling to the top level of the building. Keir’s eyrie, Phil called it. She would soon find out why.

“Why are you doing this for me, Keir?”

It was an irrelevant question. Silly to ask it, really. It put the situation on a personal footing, which was the last thing she wanted to invite or encourage with Keir Delahunty. Yet something inside her had wormed past common sense…perhaps a need for comfort from someone who cared about her. Although Keir was probably only thinking of saving his other employees on the open floor area from what could be an ugly, disruptive scene, causing more gossip and stopping work.

He looked at her, his face grave, his dark eyes intensely focused on hers. “We were friends for a long time, Rowena. I remember it, even if you don’t want to.”

Friends…and lovers at the end. Did he remember that? Or had concussion from the accident wiped out the memory of the night before Brett was killed? She hadn’t spoken of it when she’d visited him in hospital. They’d both been in shock over what had happened. She wondered what had been in the letter she hadn’t received.

She searched his eyes for some hint of knowledge of the intimacy they had once shared. It didn’t show. Maybe he had no recollection of it at all. Maybe that was why he had never come back to her. Maybe he simply remembered her as Brett’s younger sister, who had once had a schoolgirl crush on him.

The elevator stopped. The doors opened. He waited for her to exit first. Courtesy. Consideration. A friend. Brett’s best friend all those years through school and university. Like another brother to her until…But she mustn’t think about until. She had to think about Phil. And this imminent encounter with Adriana Leigh.

She forced her legs to move. She was extremely aware of Keir at her side as he directed her to his private office. A friend. She needed a friend. It was so hard…so very hard…to stand alone.

CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_8f45350c-1c42-5c13-971b-eb46f885b8d0)

KEIR’S office was an architectural wonder in itself. The outside wall was constructed of massive glass panels, which were angled to extend over half the rooftop. The room was flooded with natural light.

At one end was Keir’s workstation—desk, computers, library, several big drawing boards on stands made of round metal tube with hydraulic lift for height adjustment. Rowena was familiar with the latter. Her brother, Brett, had owned one. She remembered her father getting rid of it, getting rid of everything that connected Brett to Keir Delahunty, photographs, books, postcards, university lecture notes.

Then there was the burning of the sympathy cards and letters that so traumatised her mother. Had Keir’s letter from California been burnt, too? It had been impossible to even mention his name in those dark months after Brett’s death.

Tears blurred her eyes, and she quickly turned to look at the display of models featured on shelves running along the inner wall. These were the buildings Keir had designed, an impressive testament to what he had achieved by himself. It made Rowena wonder if his work took first place in his life and that was why he hadn’t married. Marriage didn’t seem to be popular with high-powered career people. Easy-come, easy-go relationships probably suited their lifestyles better.

How different all their lives might have been if Brett had lived. He and Keir in the partnership they had planned, she and Keir…but that might not have happened anyway. Dreams didn’t always come true.

At the opposite end to Keir’s work area was a round table, furnished with contoured leather armchairs set on swivel bases. He ushered her to one of these seats, then excused himself to speak to his secretary, whose office they had bypassed.

Rowena was glad of the opportunity to sit down and reconcentrate her mind on the problem of Adriana Leigh. Yet it was difficult to come to grips with the idea of a woman she had never met, never seen. I’ll know more when she walks into this room, Rowena assured herself, trusting instinct more than unsubstantiated guesses.

Her gaze drifted to the window view on the other side of the table. It was nothing dramatic, just blocks of homes on tree-lined streets stretching out over the suburb of Chatswood, streams of cars taking people to their chosen destinations, everyday lives going on as they invariably did, regardless of death, births, marriages.

And divorces.

Would it come to that for her?

An underlying sense of panic started churning through her stomach again. She didn’t want to bring up three children alone. She remembered how hard it had been without a helpmate when Jamie was little. Phil had been so kind and generous, taking them both into his heart and life.

She had tried to be the best of all possible wives to him, although in her heart of hearts she had known she didn’t feel for Phil what she had once felt for Keir. It was a different kind of love, less passionate, almost motherly in some ways. Despite being five years older than her, Phil could be boyish at times, wanting to show off, to be the centre of attention.

Looking back over the past year, Rowena had to acknowledge their marriage had become rather flat and routine. But surely every relationship had its highs and lows. It was a matter of working at it, being committed, trying to make it as good as it could be. Both parties were responsible for that. She didn’t understand why this was happening to her. What had she done that was so wrong?

The sound of the office door opening snapped her mind to the immediate present. Keir returning, having summoned the woman she would soon be facing. He looked so big and powerful, a rock to lean on, and Rowena ached for the support that his caring seemed to offer, yet she knew she couldn’t afford to let Keir close to her. It could only muddle everything far more than it was already muddled.

Keir didn’t know he had left her pregnant eleven years ago. He knew nothing of the son she had given birth to nine months after the fatal accident that had destroyed so much. She had come to believe he didn’t want to know, long before she had married Phil.

Whether that was true or not, it was not possible to change the course of events that had taken place. Phil had legally adopted Jamie. To all intents and purposes, Phil was Jamie’s father. It was best for everyone if it stayed that way.

Nevertheless, Rowena allowed herself the indulgence of really studying Keir for the few seconds it took him to walk down the room, noting the likenesses to her son…his son.

Deeply socketed eyes, although Jamie’s irises were hazel, a mixture of her green and Keir’s brown. The hairline was strikingly similar with a cowlick at the left temple. Jamie’s upper lip was softer, fuller, more like hers, and the shape of his face was rounder, less hard-boned. Perhaps as Jamie got older, his jawline would firm into the same mould as Keir’s, but that was not obvious yet.

Her gaze skated down the perfectly tailored grey business suit to the stylish leather shoes on Keir’s feet, feet she knew had longer second toes than the big ones. The mark of a fast runner, Keir had laughingly told her. Jamie had them, too, and he was the best sprinter in his age group at school.

“Rowena…”

She sighed and lifted her gaze.

“Would you like coffee brought in?”

She shook her head.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No. I’m grateful to you for this chance to get things straightened out, Keir. This is all I want. I won’t be making a nuisance of myself.”

“I’d never consider you a nuisance, Rowena,” he said seriously.

“You know what I mean.” She grimaced. “I don’t intend to subject Delahunty’s to a series of hysterical scenes.”

“If I can be of any service to you, at any time, please call me, Rowena. I’ll do all I can for you,” he assured her.

She could see the deep sincerity in his eyes, and it hurt. Unbearably. Where were you when I needed you? she cried in silent anguish. It’s too late now. Our lives have moved on.

A courtesy knock on the door heralded its opening. Rowena shot to her feet and stepped away from the table, inadvertently moving close to Keir, who merely turned to greet the newcomer. She wasn’t seeking his support or protection, and wasn’t aware of how they looked together as Adriana Leigh entered the office.

“Good morning, Mr. Delahunty,” she said with a bright, winning smile. Her elegance, sophistication and complete self-assurance were heart-joltingly evident. Not a younger woman. Very much a woman of considerable worldly experience. Rowena was spared a flick of curiosity, but the full beam of Adriana Leigh’s concentration was on Keir as she added, “What can I do for you?”

She was the kind of woman who was always aware of men and knowingly watched for her impact on them. Rowena recognised that instantly. She also knew instinctively there would be no tapping any vein of sympathy or guilt. In a roomful of women, this woman would be bored.

“I’d be obliged if you’d give some time to Mrs. Goodman, Adriana,” Keir answered, his clipped tone making the request more of an order. “Rowena, this is Adriana Leigh.”

The bright smile was only briefly jolted. She batted her eyelashes at Rowena. “How do you do, Mrs. Goodman?” A honeyed voice, dripping with confidence. With barely a pause, she inquired, “Did Phil ask you to come?”