Even though she was busy not thinking of those things, she still found a reason to be in her office at the time Adam would normally drop Tom off.
She wasn’t hiding, she just had things to do. She was a businesswoman with a business to run, after all. She couldn’t be expected to greet every child as they came into the centre. Or see their annoying uncles who persisted in handing her letters from a man she couldn’t get out of her mind.
When Jenny came in during the late drop-offs to remind her they were celebrating Tom’s birthday at lunch time that day, Skye groaned, her head thudding onto her desk between her arms.
How could she have forgotten that? She never forgot the children’s birthdays. She always greeted them by singing ‘Happy Birthday’ as they walked in the door. She’d let her own problems override the needs of the children.
Hurrying out of the office, she went in search of Tom. She found him instantly simply because Jason, not Adam, was standing beside him. He turned to look at her, his mesmerising blue gaze clashing with hers.
Everything stopped.
There was no sound, no light except for what glowed out of his eyes, illuminating him as if he was the centre of her universe. The world began to spin. She realised she’d stopped breathing.
Taking a step forward—it felt as momentous to her as Armstrong’s one step onto the moon—she made herself move towards her tormentor.
He smiled—an irritating and thoroughly provoking smile because it said he knew she’d been avoiding him that morning and he knew the reason why.
Taking a deep breath, she tore her gaze from his and plastered a big smile on her face as she crouched down to greet Tom.
‘Happy birthday, Tom.’
He gave her a shy smile. ‘How did you know it was my birthday?’
She reached out and ruffled his hair. ‘A little birdy told me.’ Calling out to the staff and children, she said, ‘It’s Tom’s birthday today. He’s turning five. How about we sing him our birthday greeting song?’ Pulling him forward a little, she began a rousing version of ‘Happy Birthday’. Everyone joined in.
After the song was done, Tom and Andy ran off in a giggling mass of arms and legs.
Skye was left crouching on the floor with Jason behind her.
‘Let me help you up,’ he said, his voice a throaty whisper in her ear, his hand already cupping her elbow, the touch a punch to her senses that would have made her stagger if not for his strength making the rise to her feet a smooth glide. It was all she could do not to melt into him and beg to be kissed.
Steeling her spine, she forced herself to sound normal as she eased away and said, ‘Thank you.’
‘No. Thank you.’ His gaze darted to Tom. ‘He’s been happier here this week than he’s been in a long time.’
She waved his compliment away. ‘Well, you and Adam are doing a great job with him. Given what’s happened, he’s doing remarkably well.’
Jason didn’t answer and she cursed herself as she had up at the snow for mentioning the tragedy again. ‘I’m sorry. I don’t know why I brought that up. I know it’s still painful for you, because you lost them too.’
He turned to look at her, his gaze clouded. ‘It’s okay. They were important. I don’t want him to ever forget his parents, his grandparents, his uncle and aunt. I don’t want him to be ignorant of the sacrifice they made. But I want him to be happy.’ He took her hand in his and gave it a squeeze. ‘Thanks for bringing a smile to his face and light to his eyes.’
He let her hand go—Skye almost wished he hadn’t—and turned back to look at Tom once more, a smile touching the corner of his mouth. ‘Do you know, I don’t think I’ve heard him laugh like that since the accident?’ His smile turned into a frown. ‘In fact, I don’t think he laughed much before the accident either. How do you do it?’
Skye swallowed hard as his gaze, more intense than before, pinned her in place. ‘How do I do what?’
‘Give such happiness. Tom feels it. I can see the other children do too. And your staff. The atmosphere here is so different from anything I’ve experienced before.’
‘That’s just because of the children. There’s nothing quite so healing to the soul as a child’s smile and laughter.’
He cocked his head, a dog-like action she’d noticed him do before. ‘You love children.’
‘Doesn’t everyone?’ she said blithely.
His gaze flickered over her. ‘Not everyone appreciates the gifts they’ve been given.’
‘But you do. I can see it in the way you are with Tom.’
His smile widened and he tucked his hands into his pockets as he said, ‘I try. But he needs brothers and sisters. A family.’
‘You intend to give him one.’ It wasn’t a question.
‘One day. Hopefully. If I’m that lucky.’
She knew he was looking at her, but she couldn’t look back.
‘Well, it looks like he’s settled in,’ he said after a long pause. ‘He’s certainly forgotten all about me. I’ll just go and tell him I’m leaving. I’ll see you later, Skye.’
She watched him walk away and then turned, blindly walking back to her office.
He hadn’t asked her out. Perhaps he’d given up on her. Perhaps coming here today was a test for him and seeing that she hadn’t greeted him with any warmth, and hadn’t really shown him anything of how she felt, he’d decided she wasn’t worth the effort.
She should be relieved.
So why did it suddenly feel like her entire world had been torn apart?
Normally she would talk to Shelley and Bron about what was going on, but she just couldn’t bring herself to talk about Jason with them. Shelley would get all grouchy and impatient with her indecision and Bron would tell her to go for it and have a good time—to live in the now and not worry about the future.
But how could she not worry about the future when it had been ingrained in her from an early age that she must worry about what was to come? Not to mention the fact that she couldn’t use another human being in that way. He wasn’t a sex toy. He was a warm, vibrant, caring man and it was patently obvious he wanted to give Tom brothers and sisters. He wanted to create a family. That was the one thing she couldn’t give him.
Somewhere deep inside her, she’d begun to hope those things weren’t important to him.
She needed to talk with her brother. River wouldn’t judge or preach to her or tell her she was being stupid. Even with the PTSD and horrifying mood swings, her brother was one hell of a good listener. Swiping up the phone from her desk, she took in a steadying breath and called her grandmother’s house.
‘Cantrae House. How may I help you?’
‘Ferris?’ She was glad Morrigan’s butler had picked up the phone. She didn’t think she could face talking to her grandmother right then.
‘Miss Skye. What can I do for you?’
Her fingers tightened around the phone. ‘I was just wondering if River is having a good day today. I was thinking of visiting him later.’
‘I think he would like that. He’s been a bit out of sorts since your last visit.’
‘Is he coming down with something?’
‘No. Nothing like that. He’s just not eating much and he’s stayed in his room, refusing to even come out and do some gardening.’
‘Really?’ That was strange. River loved working in the garden. It was one of the only times he really seemed happy.
‘I think a visit from you would do him some good, though.’
‘All right. I finish at two. I’ll come right around afterwards.’
‘We’ll see you then, miss.’
She put the phone down with a smile. She’d visit River. Even if she couldn’t broach the subject of Jason with him, just being with him would make her feel better.
And while she was there, she would find some time to have a little chat about privacy and her rights to it with her grandmother.
With luck, the day would end on a brighter note than the one it had started on.
Chapter 9
Skye pressed the button and waited for the ornate iron gates to open, glancing up as she always did at the lions standing on the brick posts of the twelve-foot sandstone wall that surrounded what could only be called a compound. She’d loved those lions when they had first moved here—they’d been friends and guardians, greeting her every time she came home. Now their glowering faces looked down on her with disapproval akin to the expression on Morrigan’s face every time she looked at her granddaughter, a reminder that this place had long ceased to be Skye’s home.
Cantrae House.
The gates opened and she drove forward. The place looked like a mansion you’d find in France, surrounded by sweeping lawns and perfect garden beds. It was beautiful. A showpiece that was a source of great pride for her grandmother. It left Skye feeling icy cold.
She pulled up in front of the house, slammed the car door and trudged up the steps to the oversized double doors that stood under the grand portico.
Ferris opened the big white wooden door, his greying hair perfectly combed back from his thin, angular face, his posture rigidly upright, his mouth pressed in a tight line of a correctly welcoming smile. He would seem cold to anyone who didn’t know him, but Skye saw the warmth and compassion of the man who had always stood as a shield between her and her grandmother.
Smiling, she stepped through the door and said, ‘Nice suit, Ferris. Is it new?’
‘It is indeed, Miss Skye. Madame picked it up for me yesterday.’
She looked down at the blue tie—it had pink dots on it. ‘Did madame pick the tie, too?’
Ferris’s lips twitched, but he held back the smile. ‘No. Cook did.’
‘I like it. It’s very metro.’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’ Ferris nodded slightly and turned to close the door—she was certain he was hiding a smile.
‘Is my grandmother home?’
‘Madame is out with one of her charity groups.’
‘What are they raising money for this time—disadvantaged heiresses with an addiction to saltwater pearls?’
‘I believe it’s something to do with the Leukaemia Foundation,’ he answered stiffly as he took her coat and bag.
Skye swore under her breath. Ferris had always been so kind to her, but he was loyal to Morrigan and her careless words about her grandmother upset him. ‘I’m sorry, Ferris. I know Morrigan does a lot of good with her charities. My sarcasm was uncalled for.’
‘Have you not had a good day, miss?’
‘You could say that.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Forgive me.’
Ferris smiled. ‘There’s nothing to forgive, miss. Now, I think you’ll find Master River is in the kitchen. He refused his lunch but I finally managed to coax him downstairs to have a sandwich. Is there anything I can get for you?’
Skye shook her head. ‘I’ll help myself. I’m sure you’ve got plenty to do.’
‘Very well, miss. Let me know if you change your mind.’
Skye thanked him and went in search of her brother.
River was sitting at the small table set by the bay windows overlooking the back garden, the sandwich in front of him untouched as he stared blindly at the opposite wall.
His shaggy auburn hair glinted in the sunlight streaming through the window. She could see from here he was paler than usual and there were dark circles under his eyes, marring the chiselled planes of his handsome face. Sitting down, he was tall, standing up he was gigantic—six foot four in his socks. His large frame made the chair he sat on look small and yet she knew it was a solid, high-backed wooden chair. Not that he was fat by any means—he was actually leanly muscled, his big frame hinting that if he just worked out even a little, he would be like Jason in build.
She touched his shoulder. ‘River?’
He turned slowly, staring up at her, his hazel eyes lifeless.
Grief clogged her throat at the hopelessness of his situation, but she swallowed it down, tried again. ‘River, honey. Come back to me.’
After a long moment, he blinked and the lifeless look in his eyes faded. ‘Skye?’ His face broke into a wide, crooked grin. The scars on the left side of his face were more vivid today against his too-pale skin.
Skye pulled a chair over next to his and sat, taking his hands in hers. ‘Oh, River. You’re not looking after yourself. You look terrible.’
He chuckled, the blank lack of expression finally disappearing from his eyes. ‘You’re one to talk. Have you ever heard of sleep, little sis?’
Her lips twitched. ‘I was going to say the same to you.’
He frowned. ‘I sleep. It’s just … the dreams. They’ve been so vivid. I keep seeing him.’ He looked away from her. ‘So like his father, but so much angrier. Don’t you think?’ He turned back to her, his frown deepening as he saw the puzzled look on her face. ‘But you don’t remember, do you? That’s okay. The dreams help me to remember.’
‘I don’t dream.’
‘You know that’s a lie, Skye. Everyone dreams. In fact, you’ve come here today to talk to me about your dreams.’
Skye bit her lip, trying to swallow down the frisson of fear his words caused. It was uncanny how he sometimes knew what she was thinking and feeling. Turning back to him with a smile, she said, ‘Do you feel like going for a walk outside? We can have a nice chat.’ She glanced around the kitchen. ‘You can tell me whatever’s bugging you without anyone overhearing.’
‘A walk outside would be nice.’
Skye grabbed his hand in hers and led him outside to the garden. ‘Why aren’t you eating, River? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong with me that can’t be fixed if you’d just embrace who you are. Why are you fighting it, Skye? Why?’
She tried not to bite her lip as her gaze swept over the scars on his face. ‘You know why.’
He touched his face, stared off into the distance. ‘I’m not talking about this. It’s your destiny. I know he’s come. I know he’s here.’ He sniffed. ‘I can smell him on you.’
Skye tried to laugh off his words, but the laugh came out squashed somehow. ‘Are you saying I need a shower?’
‘No. You smell nice. It’s his scent. It’s not just on you. He’s touched you deep inside.’ He placed his hand over her heart. ‘Here. He’s imprinted on your skin, in your heart.’ He closed his eyes. ‘I can feel him through the twin bond. So much heat and passion. The power of it is so strong I can almost taste it.’
Skye began to shake her head, but he stopped her by grabbing both her hands.
‘Don’t deny it. I know you feel the twin bond too, even though you do your damnedest to ignore it. Anything that feels like magic to you must be abhorred, isn’t that right?’
‘Magic killed our parents,’ she said, shocked by his words. ‘Magic destroyed your life and made it so you can’t leave this house and gardens.’ She tried to pull her hands out of his grip, but he wouldn’t let go. ‘My magic scarred you.’ She closed her eyes against all those pains, and the one that still cut her more deeply than she ever imagined it could. ‘It has taken so much from us both.’
‘You will have children, Skye.’
Her gaze flashed up to his. ‘You know I can’t,’ she whispered, surprised and hurt by his perceptiveness.
‘Miracles happen.’
‘Not for us, River. Not for us.’
‘Is that why you deny this man?’
His hazel eyes pierced hers, the golden flecks in them almost seeming to glow in the spring sunlight. She couldn’t look away.
‘How do you know that?’
He smiled. ‘I may be bordering on insane and drugged out much of the time, but I’m not stupid. You wouldn’t be this upset over anything else.’
Skye’s mouth dropped open. River was often too drugged out to make much sense out of anything, but in his rare lucid moments he could be incredibly perceptive and his intelligence was razor sharp. Sadness clutched at her heart, clenched in her belly. He could have done
so many things. If not for what happened the night their parents died and the trauma he suffered because of it, he would have had a remarkable life—of that she was certain.
River began to chuckle then turned, tucking her arm in his, and continued to walk along the path. ‘It’s okay, Skye. You don’t have to talk about him, even though that’s what you came here to do. But let me show you what I’ve been working on lately.’
He led her down a new path that zigzagged between jasmine-covered screens hiding a corner section of the garden from view of the house. When she stepped around the last of the screens, she gasped.
River had created a little oasis of peace and solitude against the backdrop of the crumbling sandstone walls. Ferns and rocks were scattered about on the Japanese-styled pebble garden beds that led up to and around a water feature that had been made to look like a waterfall spilling from rocks in front of the wall. A Japanese maple stood in one corner and miniature cherry trees were scattered around the space, their pink-hearted blossoms a splash of colour against the dark wood of the tree boughs, while cheery yellow daffodils and purple irises nodded in the slight breeze. An old wrought-iron bench seat had been placed in one corner under the boughs of an elm tree that draped itself over the wall.
‘It’s beautiful, River.’ She took in a deep breath, taking in the sweet scent of the jasmine behind her. ‘You should be a landscape designer.’
He shook his head, touching one of the curled fern fronds as they walked through the space. ‘No. This is a hobby. I’m just lucky Grandpa bought a house with a large enough garden and that Grandmother allows me to do what I will with it.’
He sat on the bench, staring at the water feature.
Skye took a seat beside him. They sat in silence, and she marvelled at the way the water looked like sheets of clear silk as it fell from the wide slit in the rocks and down into the green pool below. The rush and tinkle of it was its own special music. She breathed in the scent of the jasmine behind her, the muddy tang of the freshly laid soil and pebbles in the garden bed, the fresh scent of wood chips and mulch. A bird flew overhead, chirping, followed by another. She watched them play among the budding boughs of the Japanese maple tree.
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