Operation

by Barbara Bretton

  “This is a difficult topic to pursue, Duncan,” Lana said, her gaze resting on Sam.

  “Pursue it,” Duncan said. He wasn’t even pretending to play the gracious host. “We’re having a party, Lana. We’d like to return to it.”

  Sam stood up, smoothing the skirt of her sundress. “Why don’t I go out and make sure everyone’s having a good time?” she offered.

  Lana smiled at her. “That’s a wonderful idea, dear.”

  “Sit down, Samantha.” Duncan sounded colder than she’d ever heard him. “I want you here.”

  Sam lowered her voice as she turned to Duncan. “But I don’t want to be here.”

  “Sit down,” he repeated. “You’re my wife. Whatever she has to say, she can say in front of you.”

  “You’re making this much more difficult than it has to be, Duncan,” said Lana, her huge brown eyes brimming with tears. “What I have to say might be a trifle upsetting to your new wife.”

  “What time is it?” Duncan asked Stephenson.

  Stephenson checked his Rolex. “Half past six.”

  “You have three minutes Lana,” Duncan said. “Start talking.”

  Lana looked so upset that Sam almost felt sorry for her. The woman turned to Stephenson, a pleading expression in her eyes, but the gentleman apparently had no help to offer. It was clear to Sam that Lana wanted her to leave but she didn’t dare risk Duncan’s wrath by trying a second time.

  Never underestimate the recuperative powers of an actress. Lana closed her eyes for a second and when she opened them again, Sam would have sworn another woman had taken her place. This woman was poised, secure and self-confident. Not even the shadow of a pleading expression lingered in her eyes.

  “Bryce and I went to get our marriage license yesterday,” she said in a lilting, matter-of-fact voice.

  Duncan shot the red-haired man a look of pity that embarrassed Sam. It had been years since he and Lana had divorced. They hadn’t been married all that long when she left, and they’d never had children. The ties between them had been of the minor kind, easily cut with a simple divorce.

  “That’s hardly a new experience for you, Lana,” he said, referring to her other failed attempts at matrimony.

  “Actually, Duncan, it was a very new experience for me. This time they refused to grant me one.”

  Duncan looked briefly amused. “Maybe they’re trying to tell you something.”

  “They did tell me something, Duncan,” Lana said, her eyes flashing. “They said I’m still married to you.”

  Chapter 14

  Duncan leaped to his feet. “That’s a lie.”

  “Exactly what I said,” Lana responded, “but they had proof.”

  Sam watched, shell-shocked, as the dark-haired woman removed an envelope from her purse and handed it to Duncan.

  “Go ahead,” Lana said. “Read it. Then we’ll talk.”

  Sam rose from her chair and moved toward Duncan as he opened the envelope, but he barely seemed to register her presence. “Duncan,” she said. “What does it say?”

  He didn’t answer. He folded the letter and tossed it in Lana’s direction. “You’ve been married two times since our divorce,” he said, “and this is the first you’ve heard of this?”

  Lana’s smile was faintly condescending. “I thought I was married twice since our divorce. Apparently I was wrong.”

  “This is unacceptable,” Duncan said.

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said Lana.

  “I can’t say I’m pleased with the situation,” Bryce Stephenson piped up.

  Sam stepped forward. “And I—” That was the last thing she remembered.

  SAM OPENED her eyes to find Duncan’s ex-wife—no, make that his current wife—peering at her.

  “I fainted?” Sam asked, struggling to sit up.

  Lana nodded. “You’re pregnant, aren’t you?”

  Sam placed a hand against her belly. “Yes, I am.”

  “How far along?”

  Sam opted for vague truthfulness. “Not too terribly far.”

  “That explains a good deal,” Lana said as Sam brushed her hair from her face. “Our Duncan did seem overly solicitous.”

  Sam bristled at the implication that only pregnancy could bring forth his solicitude. “Duncan is a kind man. He’d be concerned whether or not I was pregnant”

  “You’re loyal,” Lana observed. “That’s exactly what he likes. You two should get on well together.”

  Sam swung her feet to the floor. “Where is he?”

  “Off to fetch you some water, I would think. Or the best medical care in Scotland.” Lana’s smile was amused. “I must say that was quite a display of husbandly concern he put on for us. He had you in his arms before you hit the floor, then set you down on the sofa like you were made of porcelain. That’s the way he treated me when I was pregnant with his child.”

  Bile rose to Sam’s throat, and for a moment she feared she would be sick right there in the library. “You and Duncan have a child?”

  Lana shook her head. “Things didn’t work out,” she said, her tone flat. “When the pregnancy ended, so did our marriage.”

  “There must have been more to it than that.” That simply didn’t sound like the man she’d come to know.

  “Our Duncan is a simple man,” Lana said, bitterness edging her. words. “The baby meant everything to him, and once the baby was no more—” She snapped her fingers. “We were finished.”

  Sam stood up. If Lana was looking to undermine her self-confidence, she’d succeeded. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m going upstairs to lie down for a while.”

  “I’m not trying to upset you, dear,” Lana said. “I’m just telling you the truth, one Stewart wife to another.”

  “I’m not a Stewart wife,” Sam said as the truth finally sank in. “I’m not a wife at all.”

  She stepped into the hallway. There was no sign of Duncan anywhere. She was halfway between the library and the staircase when she heard him and ducked behind the stairwell. Then Duncan’s footsteps faded.

  “Lassie, we need the Other One to move her car.”

  Sam jumped as Old Mag appeared at her side.

  “What?” she asked, placing a hand over her rapidly pounding heart.

  “The Other One’s car is blocking the caterer. Would you ask her to do it? I wouldn’t lower myself to talk with the likes of her.”

  “I don’t want to talk to her either, Mag,” Sam said honestly. “Why don’t I move it myself? If I remember right, they left the keys in the car.”

  “Aye,” said Mag. “That would do.” She looked closely at Sam. “Trouble, lassie?”

  Sam nodded. “Trouble.”

  “Ach.” Old Mag looked furious enough to commit murder. “Never thought I’d see the day she set foot in this house again.”

  The housekeeper’s words seemed unbearably harsh to Sam. What had Lana done but lose a child? Was that all it took in this place to fall from grace? The thought sent a terrible chill up Sam’s spine.

  With one sentence, Lana had turned Sam’s life inside out. Or had she just exposed Sam’s life for what it really was? There had been no declarations of love between Sam and Duncan, only that miserable legal document that spelled out the details of their marriage.

  So you’ll marry him again, Sam. As soon as his divorce is legal.

  They could ask the local priest or deacon to perform the ceremony. Maybe even invite a few guests. But why bother? It was only a business arrangement, after all. It had nothing whatever to do with love and never would. They could marry each other ten times over, and the result would always be the same—a marriage of convenience and nothing more.

  He didn’t love her. If he loved her, he would have told her so the day they heard their baby’s heartbeat for the first time. If he loved her, he would have told her so last night, when she lay naked and sleepy in his arms. If he loved her, he could have told her so in the library when Lana broke the news.

  But he didn�
��t tell her he loved her, and for good reason.

  Lana was right. Their marriage was about the baby and nothing else, and that was all it ever would be.

  And, dear God, that wasn’t enough.

  She couldn’t pretend any longer that it was. She wanted the whole package. She wanted passion. She wanted tenderness. She wanted someone whose eyes lit up with delight each time she walked into the room.

  And she wanted it all with Duncan.

  “I’ll be out in a second to move the car, Mag,” she said, then waited until the old woman went to the kitchen. She grabbed her purse from the desk drawer, made sure she had her passport and credit cards, then headed outside to the car.

  Most of the partygoers had gone home, their enthusiasm dampened by Lana’s unexpected arrival. A few people were gathered around the table where the whiskey bottles rested, but they didn’t notice Sam as she slipped by and hurried toward Lana’s car.

  “I’ll be paying my sitter overtime,” the caterer called out through the open window of her truck. “I’ve been waiting forever to get out of here.”

  “Sorry,” Sam said, forcing a smile. “Please add it to the bill.”

  She opened the door then slid behind the wheel of Lana’s rental car. The keys were there, and the engine started up on the first try. A folded map lay on the dash with the road.to Glasgow clearly highlighted in yellow. Omens didn’t come any clearer than that.

  Don’t think, she told herself. Just get as far away from here as you possibly can.

  She was an unmarried woman, after all. She could go anywhere she wanted.

  * * *

  DUNCAN PUSHED OPEN the door to the library. “Where’s Samantha?” he asked Lana as he glanced around the room.

  Lana was curled in the corner of the leather couch, her small feet tucked under her. “Your almost-bride said she was going upstairs to lie down.”

  “How did she seem?”

  Lana shrugged. “Fine. As well as any pregnant woman who just found out she wasn’t married.”

  “How in bloody hell did you find out she was pregnant?”

  “Duncan, darling, I have eyes. She’s ripe as a peach, in case you haven’t noticed.”

  Noticed? He’d memorized her curves with his fingertips, the palms of his hands, his tongue.

  “Is this some trick of yours, Lana?” he asked. “Is there something you want besides the divorce?”

  “Not a thing,” she shot back so quickly that it left no doubt in his mind about her sincerity. “I want a divorce so I can marry Bryce.”

  “I’ll call my lawyer after I check on Samantha.”

  “Your Samantha is fine, Duncan. She walked out of here under her own power. If you want to do something for her, let’s get this thing resolved now.”

  He hesitated. What he wanted was to get Lana and her latest victim out of his house as fast as possible. He’d seen Samantha faint often enough to know how quickly she recovered. The fact that she’d felt well enough to leave the room proved that. Reluctantly he decided to stay.

  “I’m calling my lawyer right now,” he said to Lana, reaching for the telephone on the desk. “I suggest you do the same.”

  He’d be on his way to a second divorce before the sun rose again or know the reason why.

  * * *

  TWO HOURS LATER he had a set of instructions from his lawyer on how to proceed and the man’s assurance that the problem could be easily solved.

  Lana, dialing from one of her three cell phones, had a similar set from her lawyer.

  “At least the two of you are in agreement about the divorce,” Duncan’s lawyer had said to him. “Quick and uncomplicated.”

  “With the emphasis on the former,” Duncan had almost growled into the phone.

  “As far as I can tell, darling, we can get this straightened out within a month,” Lana said, obviously enjoying his annoyance.

  “I’m going upstairs to tell Samantha.”

  He almost collided with Robby in the hallway.

  “She’s gone,” Robby said. “I didn’t want to tell you but Mag worries so.”

  Duncan stopped on the first step and looked at the older man. “Who’s gone?”

  “Your missus,” Robby said, his narrow face pinched with worry. “She went to move the Other One’s car two hours ago and we have not seen her since.”

  “What do you mean, you haven’t seen her since?”

  “The Other One blocked the caterer’s car and Mag asked your missus if she’d be so kind to move it out of the way. Your missus is a sweet one and she said she would. The last we saw she was driving off down the road, happy as you please.”

  “Have you checked the bedroom?”

  Robby’s cheeks flamed bright red. “And what kind of man would you think I am?”

  Duncan took the stairs two at a time. He threw open the bedroom door, praying he’d find Samantha asleep in bed, but the room was empty and silent. He went downstairs again and opened the top drawer of the desk where she kept her purse. His blood ran cold when he saw that it was missing. A woman didn’t need her driver’s license and credit cards to back a car down the driveway. But she would need those things if she had something more permanent in mind.

  “I want you to call the police, Robby,” he said as he strode toward the library. “Tell them Samantha is missing.”

  Lana, who was standing in the doorway to the library, glared at him over a tumbler of whiskey. “Missing?” she asked. “Don’t you mean gone?”

  “I don’t have time for your nonsense,” he said. “I have calls to make.” He’d phone everyone in town, if necessary, on the chance that one of them might have seen Samantha.

  “Just a minute here,” Lana said. “Did I hear what the old man said correctly? She stole my car. I hope you won’t forget to tell the police that small fact when you call them.”

  “Your car will show up when it shows up. It’s my wife I’m worried about.”

  “Dare I remind you that she’s not your wife and won’t be until we settle this business between us. Right now that car is a great deal more important to me than your runaway woman.”

  “Samantha is missing,” he said through tightly clenched teeth. “I’d throw ten of your cars into Loch Glenraven if it meant getting her back.” And if Lana was in one of them, so much the better. She didn’t give a damn that Sam had gone missing. All she cared about was her rental car. Her friend Bryce, however, remained singularly unmoved by anything that was happening around them and sat, napping, in the wing chair.

  “Good choice,” Duncan said, tilting his head in Bryce’s direction. “You should be able to handle that one.”

  “Bryce and I are marrying because we love each other,” Lana said. She managed to sound righteously indignant. “Not because he got me pregnant.”

  “Take care, woman,” he said, barely restraining his anger. “What I share with Samantha is none of your concern.”

  “You got what you wanted this time, didn’t you, Duncan? A broodmare to give you a child.”

  “By all that’s holy, if you continue with this talk I won’t be held accountable for my actions.”

  “I told her about you, you know,” Lana said. “This obsession of yours with children seems to have worsened over the years. I must say, Samantha seemed to find it enlightening.”

  “Did you tell her the whole story?” Rage filled his throat like hot, acrid smoke. “The way it really happened?”

  “I told her the part she needed to know.”

  He saw Lana down through the prism of years and wondered how it was he’d ever loved her. Her beauty was born of selfishness and anger. Samantha’s beauty was born of kindness and hope. When he was a younger man he might not have understood the distinction. Now that he was approaching the midpoint of life, it meant everything.

  He reached for the telephone and was about to punch in a number when he was struck by a thought.

  “Where did you go when we broke up?” he asked Lana without preamble.


  She frowned slightly. “To Rome, I think. Filming was about to start and—”

  “Before Rome,” he interrupted. “I’m talking about the day our marriage ended.” That night of despair and broken dreams.

  “I went home to my mother.”

  He stepped out into the hallway and bellowed for Old Mag.

  “You’re loud enough to wake the dead, laddie,” she scolded him. “What is it you want?”

  “Think back, old woman,” he said. “To the beginning. When you and Robby had a dust-up, where did you go?”

  Mag drew herself up to her full height. “I never once left my husband’s house,” she said proudly. “But Robby went home to his mam more than once.”

  Sam and her mother weren’t close, but they had been in contact lately. Besides, Julia was her only relative in Great Britain. Where else would she go?

  And, more important, how quickly could he get there?

  London, later that same night

  “SAMANTHA!” Julia peered through the partially open door of her Kensington flat. “What on earth?”

  “Are you going to let me in, Mother, or shall I spend what’s left of the night on your doorstep?”

  Julia, clutching her pale rose silk kimono to her breast, didn’t move an inch. “Is your husband with you?”

  “Haven’t you heard?” Sam asked. “I don’t have a husband. Now will you please let me in?”

  “No husband!” The door swung wide open. “Darling, that’s the best thing I’ve heard in weeks.”

  “You’re a wonder, Mother,” Sam muttered as she stepped into the hallway. She tossed her purse on the small mahogany table positioned beneath a rococo mirror. Even in the middle of the night with her face still bruised from cosmetic surgery, Julia managed to look better than most women did on their best days. “I thought you said you looked too terrible to come to our party.”