Forbidden Surrender

And she still recoiled from it! Richard was her father and always would be.

Both her aunt and uncle were still up when Eddie brought her home, so she made coffee for all of them. Eddie seemed to find their determination not to leave them alone very amusing, and finally got up to take his leave.

‘They’re getting worse than parents,’ he joked at the front door.

‘Don’t say that,’ Sara grimaced. ‘I’ve had my fill of parents today.’

‘Really?’

‘Forget I said that, Eddie,’ she advised hastily, realising she was revealing too much. No one must know about Marie and her father until she was ready to accept it herself. ‘I’ve been a bit down the last couple of days. Delayed reaction, I think.’

He gently touched her cheek. ‘Never mind, love. Just remember you have Aunt Susan and Uncle Arthur. And there’s always me.’

‘Thank you.’ She gave a quavery smile. ‘You don’t know how comforting that is. Really!’ she insisted at his sceptical look.

‘Only I could end up with a beautiful girl like you wanting to be my friend,’ he said with disgust. ‘Or my sister, which is worse,’ he grimaced. ‘Just my luck!’

Sara reached up and kissed him warmly on the cheek. ‘Thank you for being here.’

Eddie frowned. ‘When you needed me, hmm?’

‘Yes,’ she admitted huskily.

‘ ’Night, love.’ He bent to kiss her on the mouth, grinning at her gasp of surprise. ‘Brotherly privilege.’

‘I’ll bet,’ she laughed.

Her aunt and uncle were still in the lounge when she returned, and she frowned at their grave expressions. Something was wrong here, very wrong.

‘We had a visitor this evening,’ her aunt told her softly, her gaze searching Sara’s pale features.

‘Oh yes?’ They often had visitors, being a very popular couple, so she knew there had to be something special about this particular visitor or else they wouldn’t have mentioned it.

‘A Mr Dominic Thorne,’ her uncle told her, one eyebrow raised questioningly.

Sara drew an angry breath. ‘He came here!’ she gasped.

Her uncle nodded. ‘He seemed concerned about you, wanted to make sure you were all right.’

Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. ‘What did he think I was going to do?’ she rasped. ‘Commit suicide?’

‘Now then, Sara,’ her uncle chided. ‘That isn’t the way to be. Susan and I much appreciated his visit.’

‘He’s told you, hasn’t he?’ she accused angrily. ‘Why couldn’t he mind his own damned business?’ Her American accent was very strong in her fury.

‘He seemed to feel it was his business,’ her aunt put in softly.

Her eyes flashed. ‘He knew it wasn’t—I told him it wasn’t.’

‘Sara—–’

‘He had no right to come here,’ she stormed, overriding her aunt. ‘No right!’ she repeated vehemently. ‘This is my problem—–’

‘It was never just your problem,’ her aunt told her firmly. ‘Both families are involved as well, and Mr Thorne is engaged to your sister.’ She shook her head. ‘I just couldn’t believe it when people started taking you for Marie, not just once but a couple of times. We’d seen photographs of her, of course, the Lindlay family are often in the society columns, but even so we had no idea the similarity was so extreme. Mr Thorne says it’s almost impossible to tell you apart.’

Sara’s mouth twisted. ‘Only almost?’ she taunted. ‘He seems to have trouble knowing the difference.’

‘Really?’ Her aunt gave her a sharp look.

‘Only my fath—only Michael Lindlay,’ she amended quickly, ‘could tell the difference. He knew on sight that I wasn’t Marie.’ She wondered how he had known.

‘How is Michael?’ her uncle asked.

‘A bit dazed at the moment,’ she revealed huskily. ‘I’m afraid I walked out on him this afternoon.’

Her aunt nodded. ‘Mr Thorne told us that.’

Sara’s mouth tightened. ‘What else did he tell you?’