Carole Mortimer Romance Collection

‘Don’t try any of your amateur psychology on me, Silke,’ Lyon scorned harshly. ‘The Winter-Buchanan money has always been the draw—’

‘My mother gave all that up once,’ she pointed out softly, looking at him searchingly; was it possible this man had been through a similar experience to her own, that he had also been let down in love? But she didn’t want to have anything in common with Lyon! Certainly didn’t want to find they had an affinity because of past hurts. Considering the physical reaction there seemed to be between them—no matter how much they both wished it weren’t there!—that could be dangerous, very dangerous...

Lyon shrugged now. ‘She was young at the time, didn’t realise quite what she was giving up. Besides, when it came down to it, she obviously didn’t want the responsibility of someone else’s brat!’ His mouth twisted with distaste. ‘I doubt taking on someone else’s baby with the wedding-ring was the lifestyle she had in mind at all!’

Silke frowned. ‘Is that really what you think happened?’

‘Don’t be so bloody naïve, Silke; of course that’s what happened!’ he scorned.

She shook her head again. ‘That explanation doesn’t make sense either, Lyon; with all that Winter-Buchanan money at her disposal my mother wouldn’t have had to have anything to do with you herself if she didn’t want to. She could have paid people to do that!’

‘Henry wouldn’t have allowed that—’

‘Henry did it!’ she reasoned forcefully, clearly remembering the conversation between the two men on that first day. And Lyon might not like her ‘amateur psychology’, but it was becoming more and more obvious, despite Henry’s efforts—and that damned Winter-Buchanan money!—that Lyon had always had a very lonely life.

‘Because he had no choice,’ Lyon bit out harshly now, eyes glittering dangerously. ‘He was a man on his own, with a business to run—’

‘If you know that, why do you give him such a hard time over your childhood?’ she prompted softly. Her own childhood hadn’t exactly been ‘normal’ either, and her experience with James hadn’t been fun, but she was sure she didn’t have the same cynical approach to life Lyon did. Did she...?

He stood up forcefully, glaring down at her, a nerve pulsing in one tightly clenched cheek. ‘Silke, I don’t discuss my personal affairs with anyone like this,’ he finally ground out dismissively.

Maybe that was his problem. When James had walked out on her she hadn’t hidden herself away and licked her wounds, had talked and talked and talked, mainly to her mother, until she had talked a lot of the pain and disillusionment away. None of the talking had really changed the situation; James had still betrayed her in the worst possible way, the wedding-dress hanging in her bedroom seeming to mock her until she had got rid of it, but at least she hadn’t kept all the bitterness inside her, destroying her. As it was, this man...

‘Maybe you should try it some time, Lyon,’ she said lightly.

Dark brows rose over scornful eyes. ‘With you?’

She looked shocked, moving away from him to sit back in her chair behind the desk, as far away from Lyon as she possibly could be. No, not with her! This man disturbed her enough already, had broken down certain of her defences she would rather have remained intact. She didn’t want to know the man behind the hard façade, felt far safer telling herself that there wasn’t one, that this hard, cynical man was all there was.

‘Certainly not,’ she snapped defensively. ‘As you so rightly guessed, my mother is at the clinic with Henry. Go and do your worst with the information you have on her. I can guarantee it won’t make any difference to either of them,’ she added confidently.

Lyon shook his head. ‘There are no guarantees in this world, Silke,’ he rasped abruptly.

She had thought her relationship with James the sort that would last a lifetime—and look how badly that had turned out! If James hadn’t run off in the way that he had, they would have been married almost a year by now, a year she had believed would be filled with the happiness of setting up home together, of discovering all those things about each other that it wasn’t possible to know until you actually lived with someone. And instead—

‘But you look as if you already know that,’ Lyon said quietly, having moved to stand beside her now.

Silke gave him a startled look, wondering just how much she had revealed in those few disturbed moments. Too much, if Lyon’s searching gaze was anything to go by! The last thing she wanted—next to not getting to know the man behind the façade!—was for him to get to know her!

‘I’m twenty-five, Lyon,’ she dismissed with deliberate flippancy. ‘You don’t get to that age without realising that the saying “life can be a bitch” is founded on a certain amount of truth!’

His mouth twisted. ‘I believe the correct saying is “life’s a bitch—and then you die”!’

‘Oh, let’s be correct.’ She gave a mocking inclination of her head.

He gave a grim smile. ‘I think the most interesting part of that statement is that life is classed as being female.’

‘Careful, Lyon,’ Silke drawled, her equilibrium regained after her brief lapse. ‘Or you could be mistaken for a misogynist!’ She looked at him challengingly.

Dark brows rose. ‘I don’t dislike women, Silke,’ he told her softly.

‘No?’ she taunted sceptically.

‘No.’ His mouth firmed. ‘I don’t know what Henry has told you about me—and I don’t particularly want to know, either—but I think I should warn you he gets annoyed because I won’t confide my private life to him, and because I won’t he chooses to believe I don’t have one. He’s never accepted the fact that I’ve grown up!’

Silke quirked blonde brows. ‘Does any parent?’ She shrugged. ‘You’ll probably be the same yourself when you have children of your own.’ Good God, how had they progressed from outright antagonism to discussing this man’s prospective children!

He obviously thought the same thing, giving a disgusted snort. ‘I doubt it,’ he drawled non-committally. ‘In the meantime, I have no intention of the two of us ever being related!’

Discussion over, Silke thought as she stiffened at his intended insult; after all, she was the daughter of the woman he believed to be a gold-digger, and he had no intention of showing her even politeness, let alone talking to her! ‘Talk to Henry and my mother about that, not me!’ she snapped.

Lyon looked grim now. ‘I intend to! It’s ridiculous for them to imagine they still love each other after all these years; they don’t even know each other, only a memory!’

And this man intended to make sure they realised that! Silke didn’t agree with him—but then, when had she?—and she believed, no matter what happened, that her mother and Henry were adults, and as such should be left to make their own choices—or mistakes, if that was what they turned out to be.

She shook her head. ‘I don’t think that’s any of our business—’

‘I’m sure you don’t,’ Lyon rasped scornfully, looking about him disparagingly. ‘Your mother certainly wouldn’t have to concern herself with this place if she were Henry’s wife.’

Silke gave him a pitying look. ‘And no doubt you’re the sort of man who would insist on your future wife’s signing a prenuptial agreement before you would condescend to go through with the wedding!’

‘Not at all,’ he drawled, dark brows raised mockingly as Silke looked up at him. ‘For the simple reason that I never intend falling into the marriage trap!’

Was that really what it was, what it had become? She had looked forward to her marriage to James, had anticipated their happiness together. No, despite what had happened to her engagement to James, she couldn’t agree with Lyon’s sentiments on marriage. Although at the same time she couldn’t see herself ever contemplating it again either. But for her mother and Henry it was a different matter...

‘Obviously Henry and my mother don’t feel the same way about it that you do,’ she dismissed. ‘And I really don’t think you have the right to interfere.’

Lyon’s eyes were glacial. ‘I have the right to protect Henry from his own folly!’ he bit out harshly.

Silke raised blonde brows at his arrogance. ‘Do you?’

‘Yes!’ he rasped forcefully. ‘So be prepared to pick up the pieces!’ He marched over to the door, a man totally in command of a situation.

‘Er—Lyon...?’ Silke called out to him softly as he reached the door.

He turned back to her, his brows challengingly raised.

‘You forgot this.’ Her mouth twisted disgustedly as she held up the brown envelope he had placed so confidently on her desk a short time ago. Containing damaging evidence against her mother, she was sure. She was also sure her mother and Henry had become strong enough together the last few days to withstand anything Lyon had to throw at them.

But at the same time she knew she had to warn them of what Lyon was trying to do, waiting until Lyon had grabbed up the brown envelope from her to stride forcefully from the room before placing a call through to the clinic.

To her surprise she was told that Mr Winter had been discharged that morning. Silke very much doubted Lyon was aware of that. Or that his temper, or his determination, would be improved by not knowing!

Her mother wasn’t answering the telephone at her apartment either, which meant she was probably at Henry’s home with him. And Silke had no idea where that was. Oh, well, she had tried to let them know of Lyon’s intention of causing trouble. And she couldn’t really believe, after seeing the older couple together the last few days, that Henry and her mother would be affected by anything Lyon had to say on the subject of her mother’s past. Maybe someone would even get around to telling Lyon that he, for different reasons from the ones he was assuming, was the reason her mother had fled from the situation all those years ago.

Why hadn’t she told Lyon the truth this morning? He had certainly given her the perfect opening for it. And yet she hadn’t taken it. Why hadn’t she?

The truth was, she didn’t want to probe her own motives too deeply! He seemed to have no hesitation in trampling over other people’s feelings, so why—?