Carole Mortimer Romance Collection

The less she thought about Lyon, the better. Determinedly opening the next file on her desk, intent on forgetting about him, she concentrated on her work. Unfortunately, the next account she looked at was the one for Buchanan’s for the hire of the bunny girl. The wrong bunny girl. God, Silke still cringed when she thought of that day and that damned outfit she had been wearing. She doubted Buchanan’s would forget it in a hurry either!

* * *

This time she didn’t even look surprised when Lyon burst into the office a short time later, and there was certainly no point in being annoyed about it; it seemed to be becoming a habit of his!

As usual he didn’t bother to knock, just walked in. As if he owned the place. As if she didn’t have any work to do.

She looked up at him with weary resignation. ‘Yes, Lyon?’

‘Did you know about it all the time?’ he demanded without preliminaries, towering over her as he stood by the desk.

Silke instantly felt irritated by this man’s constant superiority over her. Not that it would make an awful lot of difference if she were to stand up, she realised ruefully; he would still dwarf her! He—

‘Well?’ he demanded harshly at her lack of response. ‘Did you know?’

Obviously he had been to the clinic and knew of his uncle’s discharge. And he was furious about it. Good God, could no one make a move without this man’s permission?

‘I telephoned the clinic after you left earlier.’ She nodded. ‘Don’t look so worried, Lyon,’ she chided as he still scowled darkly. ‘I’m sure they wouldn’t have discharged Henry if he weren’t well enough to—’

‘Peter didn’t discharge him,’ Lyon cut in harshly, eyes blazing. ‘Henry discharged himself!’

Silke frowned at this news. Although even that wasn’t too serious, surely; Henry had seemed fine when she saw him the previous evening, and Peter Carruthers had originally said the older man only needed a few days’ bed-rest. It didn’t seem too disastrous to her that Henry had tired of the clinic and decided to take matters into his own hands. Although she could see that it bothered Lyon enormously!

‘Where are they, Silke?’ he rasped, his eyes taking on a silver sheen. ‘And don’t say you don’t know, because I can’t believe your mother hasn’t invited you to the wedding,’ he added accusingly.

Wedding? But that wasn’t until next week, when—when they could be sure Henry was out of hospital...

Silke stared up at Lyon, a terrible truth starting to dawn on her; her mother and Henry had decided to avoid any further confrontation with Lyon and had gone off somewhere quietly and got married. That was the reason Henry had discharged himself without anyone knowing!

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_176de453-3837-5003-a23b-ae04ca7a95dd)

‘WELL?’ Lyon demanded as she continued staring at him.

Well, indeed. What could she say? She knew exactly what her mother and Henry had done—and she couldn’t blame them in the least. Not in the circumstances. The last thing Henry needed at the moment was tension and strain, and dealing with Lyon over this situation was sure to cause that. Much better simply to present him with a fait accompli. Lyon was aware of that too—and he was obviously absolutely furious at the idea of being duped by the older couple.

‘Well,’ Silke repeated slowly, leaning back in her chair, playing for time really. What could she say? She didn’t know any of the details of her mother and Henry’s disappearance, only appreciated the reason for it. But at the same time she knew Lyon wasn’t going to believe her ignorance about the older couple’s plans.

‘Where are they, Silke?’ Lyon ground out harshly at her continued silence.

She looked at him consideringly, at his set features, the cold fury in his eyes—and she was grateful she knew none of the details of the runaways’ wedding. Because she knew that, if she had, Lyon wouldn’t have relented until he had extracted those details from her. Which she was sure her mother and Henry were aware of too.

She drew in a deep breath. ‘I know you aren’t going to believe this—’

‘If you’re about to tell me you don’t know where Henry and your mother are, then no, I’m not,’ Lyon grated, eyes glittering.

Silke grimaced at his determined expression. ‘I don’t know where Henry and my mother are,’ she repeated evenly, her own gaze unflinching.

He let out a controlled snort of disbelief. ‘Silke, you—’ He broke off as the telephone on the desk began to ring. ‘Instruct your secretary to hold all calls,’ he bit out harshly, glaring balefully at the offending telephone.

Silke arched blonde brows at him at the same time as she reached out for the receiver. ‘I have a business to run, Lyon, and—’

‘It’s your mother’s business,’ he snapped. ‘And after today it doesn’t look as if she’s going to need it any more!’

Silke picked up the receiver, her gaze never leaving Lyon’s determinedly set face as he moved to sit in the chair facing her desk. Not that he looked in the least relaxed once he had sat down, his body filled with a powerful tension as he sat so quietly watching her. Unnerving!

What was even more unnerving was the voice on the other end of the telephone line! No wonder Jackie hadn’t hesitated in putting the call through!

‘Silke! Darling, I—’

‘Hello, Mrs—Adams.’ There was only the slightest hesitation before the surname—thank God. The last thing she wanted was for Lyon to realise it was her mother on the telephone! As it was, her own palms were sweating as she held the receiver, and she was sure she must have gone slightly pale. ‘No, my mother isn’t here at the moment,’ she said pointedly; Lyon was the one who was here! ‘I believe she’s getting married today,’ she added even more pointedly, frowning warily as Lyon instantly looked furious.

‘Who’s there with you, Silke?’

Thank goodness her mother had picked up on the near panic of her words, even if she had managed to keep her tone lightly friendly! ‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ she replied dismissively. Guess, Mummy, guess! Who else but Lyon Buchanan would make her behave in this way?

‘Lyon,’ her mother realised heavily. ‘He’s been to the clinic?’

‘Yes,’ Silke replied economically.

‘Oh, God, Silke,’ her mother sighed. ‘I’m so sorry. Is he very angry?’

‘Very,’ she confirmed lightly, a brief glance at Lyon’s face telling her his mood wasn’t being improved by the interruption of this telephone call. And that was without even realising who the caller actually was!

‘We thought this way was for the best, Silke,’ her mother explained apologetically.

‘I’m sure you’re right,’ she quickly assured her; the longer this call continued, the more short-tempered Lyon was likely to become—and he was difficult enough to deal with already. ‘I’ll tell my mother you called,’ she briskly decided to conclude the conversation as she saw Lyon move in his chair impatiently. ‘Perhaps you could call back?’

‘Tonight, Silke,’ her mother instantly agreed. ‘At my apartment?’

‘That would be best,’ Silke agreed in a relieved tone.

‘Are you all right, Silke?’ her mother said worriedly. ‘God knows I realise how obnoxious Lyon can be—’

‘I’m just running things for my mother while she’s away,’ she cut in quickly, sure from the increasing displeasure on Lyon’s face that he was actually going to wrench the receiver out of her hand in a minute and tell ‘Mrs Adams’ to go to hell. And once he had spoken to her mother that would ruin everything! ‘We’ll look forward to hearing from you.’ She rang off quickly before her mother could say anything else, putting down the receiver as if it were red-hot.

At which Lyon instantly reached out and pressed the internal button. ‘No more calls,’ he barked to Jackie when she answered the call, looking across challengingly at Silke as she watched him with raised brows.

She glared at him. ‘Make yourself at home, why don’t you?’ she said sarcastically.

‘Our conversation is more important than your mother’s clients,’ he snapped icily.

‘In your opinion,’ Silke drawled, sitting back in her chair. At least she had heard from her mother, no longer had to wonder about that particular situation. And she would talk to her again later in the day. Lyon didn’t have that reassurance.

His eyes flashed. ‘Aren’t you in the least concerned that your mother has just disappeared with my uncle? Stupid question,’ he dismissed disgustedly, his mouth twisted contemptuously. ‘Once the two of them are married—’

‘Don’t say it, Lyon,’ she warned sharply, no longer quite as relaxed, green eyes flashing warningly.

His mouth twisted scathingly. ‘The benefits of becoming Henry’s stepdaughter can’t have escaped you!’