Forbidden Surrender

‘Richard wasn’t able to have any,’ she revealed slowly.

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Then Michael did her more of a favour than she first realised. I would have been less charitable.’

‘Charitable!’ she echoed furiously. ‘When he’d been having an affair himself?’

Dominic sighed. ‘I can see there’s no reasoning with you.’

‘None at all,’ she confirmed. ‘I—–’

‘Dominic.’ For the second time in two days Michael Lindlay walked unannounced into the room containing Dominic and Sara. He came up with a start. ‘Sara!’ he gasped.

He had aged overnight, even she could see that; there was a drawn look to his handsome face, a bleak look in his eyes. His expression was agonised as he looked at her, seemingly undecided about whether to enter the room or simply leave again.

‘Come in, Michael,’ Dominic made the decision for him. ‘Perhaps you can talk some sense into Sara.’

‘I don’t think so,’ she denied tightly, turning away.

A few seconds later she heard the door close. She didn’t know whether she was relieved or saddened that her father had so calmly accepted her refusal to speak to him. She had no doubts that Dominic would never accept such a decision himself. Maybe that was the reason she felt she could rely on him. Even after the way they had reached out to each other just now? She couldn’t begin to work out what had happened between them a few minutes ago, except to think that Dominic had momentarily confused her with Marie. That would be the obvious explanation.

‘Sara.’

She spun round. Dominic hadn’t been the one to remain in the office after all; her father had. She swallowed hard, biting her top lip. ‘How is it you were able to tell Marie and myself apart from the start?’ she asked shyly.

Some of the tension seemed to leave him, although he still eyed her warily. ‘I know my girls,’ he said huskily.

She flushed. ‘Both of us?’

‘Oh yes,’ he nodded.

‘How?’ Her head went back in challenge.

‘Photographs of you. And I have Marie with me.’

Sara frowned. ‘You have photographs of me?’

He nodded. ‘Sent to me by your mother. With Richard’s consent, of course.’

‘You’ve corresponded with my mother?’ she gasped.

‘Occasionally,’ he nodded again. ‘Although perhaps corresponded is too strong a word. Once a year, sometimes twice, your mother would send me a photograph of you, and I would do the same thing with Marie. I doubt we’ve written more than a dozen words to each other in twenty years, but the photographs became a ritual.’

‘So you’ve known exactly how I looked all the time?’ Sara was having some trouble taking all this in.

He smiled. ‘Every step of the way.’

‘Did you know that this year you weren’t to receive a photograph?’ her voice was bitter. ‘That my mother and I were actually going to visit you here in England?’

‘No,’ her father looked startled. ‘I had no idea.’

‘Apparently my mother considered it time Marie and I were made aware of each other. I think we should have been told a damn sight sooner than this.’

‘I realise you’re angry, Sara—–’

‘Angry?’ she repeated tautly. ‘I’m furious!’ Her eyes sparkled with anger. ‘Marie might be able to take all this calmly, but I’m afraid I can’t.’

Her father gave a rueful smile. ‘Marie didn’t accept it calmly either—she gave me hell once you’d left yesterday.’

‘Good.’ Sara felt some of the anger leaving her. ‘I like Marie,’ she admitted huskily.

‘She likes you too.’ There was a shimmer of tears in his deep brown eyes so like her own. ‘But not as much as I do. Sara—–’

‘How about inviting me back for lunch?’ she broke in on what she felt could only be an emotional speech. And until she had decided what the future held for her she wanted to keep emotion out of this situation for as long as possible. Even her own anger and resentment must be dampened down for the moment.

‘You mean that?’ he asked eagerly.