Forbidden Surrender

Dominic looked at his brother. ‘My God, you did a good job of this!’

‘Don’t blame him,’ Sara snapped. ‘Maybe his method wasn’t very tactful, but at least he considered me adult enough to be told.’

‘Would you please leave us, Danny?’ Dominic said tautly.

‘Sara?’

She looked at Dominic’s set, rigid features. ‘Yes, go, Danny. You really should get your nose seen to.’ It was still bleeding.

He grimaced. ‘I think it’s broken,’ he muttered as he left.

‘Sara—–’

She shook off Dominic’s hand, standing up and moving away from him. ‘Don’t touch me!’ she spat the words at him. ‘Don’t ever touch me again. Just tell me, tell me what’s wrong with Marie.’

He licked the blood from his lip. ‘Perhaps your father—–’

‘No, you!’ she told him heatedly. ‘I want you to tell me.’

He sighed. ‘Then perhaps we should sit down. This could take some time, and you’ve already received enough of a shock.’

Sara sat. ‘I’m waiting,’ she said in a cold voice.

‘You know that Marie fell down the stairs about six months ago,’ he began.

She nodded. ‘The same day I had my accident.’

‘Yes. Well, that fall did more than cause a bump on the head and a twisted ankle.’

‘What else?’ she asked dully.

‘Shortly after falling Marie began to have excruciating pains in the head, so severe that she would cry out with the agony of them.’

‘She still gets them,’ Sara recalled tightly.

Dominic frowned. ‘That bad?’

‘Yes.’

He shook his head. ‘She said they were getting better.’

Her mouth twisted. ‘Perhaps she didn’t want to worry you.’

‘She eventually went to see a specialist,’ Dominic ignored her bitter dig at him. ‘Simon Forrester is that specialist.’

God, what a fool she was! All this time she had been blinded by her belief that it was her father who was ill, when all the pointers had really been to its being Marie. Marie was the one with the headaches, the one kept in bed by her illness. She should have realised that Marie was the one her father had told her aunt and uncle was dying, instead she had jumped completely to the wrong conclusion. Was it more painful to lose her sister than her father, could one gauge a loss like that? She couldn’t, and she wouldn’t even try.

‘Why can’t Simon Forrester do anything for her?’ she demanded to know.

Dominic shrugged. ‘Clever as he is he just can’t perform miracles. Simon discovered a minute fracture of the skull that wasn’t apparent at the time of the accident. That fracture of bone could move at any time and kill her.’

‘Can’t it be removed?’ Sara cried.

‘No,’ he replied grimly.

‘But surely—–’

‘No!’ he repeated tautly. ‘It can’t.’

‘This is absurd! She’s young, beautiful, a wonderful person. God couldn’t be cruel enough to take her life. Besides, she doesn’t look ill,’ she added foolishly.

‘Believe me, she is.’

‘Then why are you marrying her?’ Sara turned on him angrily. ‘You must have known she was dying when you asked her to marry you—you’ve only been engaged a few months.’

Dominic’s expression was remote, unapproachable. ‘My reasons for marrying Marie are my own.’

‘And your reason for making love to me?’ she asked shrilly. ‘Could it be that you decided to have a standby, just in case you didn’t get to marry Marie before she dies? After all, one Michael Lindlay daughter is as good as another!’ Her head flew back with the force of Dominic’s palm against her cheek. She didn’t move, looking up at him with lifeless eyes, too numb to even feel the pain he had just inflicted. ‘I wouldn’t marry you if you got down on your knees and crawled to me across broken glass,’ she told him with cold vehemence. ‘Just the thought of being in the same room with you makes me feel nauseated!’

Dominic was grey, harsh lines etched into his face. ‘Goodbye, Sara,’ and he quietly left the room.