Bad Boy (Invertary 5)

“Uh-huh.” Katy nodded, her mouth full of food.

Fabulous. It seemed like half of Invertary was watching Abby make out with Flynn. She still wasn’t sure how it happened. One second she’d been so mad she could have wrung his neck, the next she was panting for more of him. Hormones. It had to be hormones. They were making her terminally horny to the point where even Flynn Boyle was too much temptation to resist. It took her a minute to realise Katy was still waiting for an answer as to why she’d kissed Flynn.

“It was an accident,” she said as she sat at the kitchen table beside her daughter. “I didn’t mean to kiss him.”

Katy looked puzzled. “How can you kiss someone by accident?”

“You’ll understand when you get older.” When your hormones start overruling your brain. Oh yes, Abby could not wait for that phase of her parenting life. She eyed her daughter speculatively and wondered how old you had to be to enter a convent.

Katy let out a huge sigh. “You always say that. I’m fed up waiting to get older. I want to know now.”

“And what would you do with all this knowledge?” Abby pointed a piece of bread at Katy.

Her daughter narrowed her eyes. “Rule the world.”

Abby was still laughing when she heard a car approach. She was in no mood to tolerate another one of Flynn’s get-togethers. The last lot had only just left, and she’d been hopin

g for a few days’ reprieve before the next round of partying started. A moment later she heard the car veer up her gravel driveway instead of heading up Flynn’s dirt road.

“Someone’s coming,” she told Katy. “You stay here. Finish your lunch.”

That earned her another frown. Abby walked down the long hallway, past the staircase with its carved wooden banister, to the front door. When she opened it, she stopped dead.

Her elder sister was climbing out of a black Bentley. Abby froze, her hand on the door, her eyes glued to her sister. It’d been seven years since she’d seen her last. Seven years since Victoria had come to tell her their parents had disinherited her and she shouldn’t come home unless she came back as a single woman. They’d wanted to annul her marriage. Divorce was so common. Too common for the Montgomery-Clarks. But if it took a divorce to divest Abby of her lower-class husband, they would live with it. Better divorce than an unsuitable match that brought shame on the family name.

The driver’s door opened and a man she didn’t recognise stepped out. He was pristine in a tailor-made charcoal suit, Italian leather shoes and crisp white shirt. There was grey at his temples and laugh lines around his eyes. He gave her a smile tinged with sympathy. It made her heart sink.

Her sister brushed her palm over the front of her navy shift dress. An understated Gucci bag hung at her elbow, matching shoes in mulberry on her feet. Her hair was perfectly styled in a chignon. Her makeup subtle. Her jewellery expensive and tasteful, as befitting a lady. She looked much younger than her forty-four years, yet her attitude made her seem older. Victoria’s eyes slowly turned to Abby, and Abby’s mouth went dry.

“Hello, Abigail,” Victoria said. “I apologise for the inconvenience of visiting unannounced. May we come in?”

Abby found it hard to speak. The words seemed to stick in her throat. Her eyes prickled with tears she wouldn’t dare shed. Family. She never thought she’d see them again. She never imagined they’d want to see her.

Abby cleared her throat. “Of course.” She gestured for them to come inside.

She eyed the man. He wasn’t quite six foot tall, although he was solidly built and carried an air of someone who was used to giving orders—and being obeyed. Victoria gestured towards the man.

“May I present Lawrence Maynard, or Maynard-Fraser-Grayson.”

Abby felt panic solidify in her stomach as she recognised his name. It felt like a rock, indigestible and heavy, weighing her down. She was shaking hands with the family lawyer. There could be no good reason he would come to Scotland. None. She swallowed her fear and smiled politely.

“Pleased to meet you,” Abby said automatically as her training kicked into place.

“It’s entirely my pleasure, Abigail.” Lawrence held out his hand.

“Please, call me Abby. No one calls me Abigail anymore. Come in and join me for tea.”

Her sister’s lips pursed before thinning into obvious disapproval at the nickname. “Tea would be lovely.” Victoria’s voice was frosty.

“This way.” Abby’s led them past the living room and study to the kitchen at the back of the house. The bright pastel colours she’d used to decorate her home seemed inappropriate for such a heavy event as a visit from family.

She opened the kitchen door for them. Victoria took two steps into the room and stopped dead. Abby ignored the unspoken censure at having taken them to the kitchen. She looked past her sister to find Katy standing on a stool, rooting around in the pantry. She had a pack of chocolate buttons in her hand, chocolate smeared around her mouth and a guilty look on her face. Lawrence coughed. When Abby’s eyes shot to him it looked like he was hiding a laugh. Victoria stared at Katy, her expression unreadable, but the tension in her shoulders radiated disapproval.

“Katy.” Abby jerked herself into action. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“It wasn’t my fault.” Katy blinked huge doe eyes intended to melt Abby’s heart. The little master manipulator. “My tummy made me do it. It needed chocolate. I tried to tell it you said no chocolate till after lunch, but it wouldn’t listen.” She held her hand to her mouth and whispered loudly, “My tummy doesn’t like the soup.”

There was another cough from Lawrence. Abby took the chocolate from her daughter’s hand, put it back on the top shelf and picked her up. She walked back around the marble-topped counter to the dining table and put Katy in her chair.