Gypsy

by Carole Mortimer

  ‘I can’t imagine what!’ he snapped. ‘The woman is obviously not cut out to be a maid!’

  Shay’s eyes widened. ‘You surely aren’t talking about Patty?’ she frowned.

  He glared. ‘You aren’t going to start defending her too, are you?’

  She couldn’t understand his vehemence. ‘I’ve always found her very helpful and friendly.’

  ‘But hardly maid material,’ Matthew insisted forcefully.

  Shay frowned thoughtfully. Patty did her work willingly and well, but now that Matthew mentioned it the other woman did have an air of pride and intelligence that didn’t quite fit with the career she had chosen for herself. But perhaps the fact that it was a job without pressure suited the other woman; some people preferred to opt out of the constant competition some careers necessitated.

  ‘You can’t sack someone just because they don’t look the part,’ she chided her brother-in-law. ‘I like her.’

  ‘You and Lyon both!’ he complained, turning to leave, stopping to look back at her. ‘Lyon was out until dawn again last night,’ he derided. ‘It’s just like old times.’

  ‘Surely it’s his affair?’ Shay said primly, almost groaning at the pun she had made without intending to do so. ‘It probably is an affair, Matthew,’ she scorned.

  ‘You can’t really believe that,’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Lyon’s a little too old to be changing his habits now,’ she said dryly.

  He shook his head. ‘I’m beginning to wonder if you ever really knew him.’

  ‘Ricky knew him well, and he didn’t trust him either!’

  ‘Ricky was biased,’ Matthew muttered.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ Her eyes widened.

  ‘Never mind,’ he dismissed. ‘Have I told you that you look beautiful today?’

  ‘No,’ she smiled. ‘You haven’t.’

  ‘Pregnancy suits you,’ he said with sincerity.

  She was enjoying being pregnant, the nausea long gone, the tiredness easily dealt with by her short naps in the day. She felt well, and she knew she looked well, the bruises from her fall almost gone now, the stitches in her thigh almost ready to come out, the wound only slightly irritating now.

  She was in her suite working when Patty came up to tell her she had a visitor, slightly surprised to learn that it was Derrick Stewartby calling on her. She left her work reluctantly, regretting having to do so when she had been doing so well.

  It was the first time she had seen Derrick since the day of the funeral, and away from the overpowering masculinity of the Falconer men, she acknowledged that he was a very handsome man, tall and dark, with distinctive wings of silver at his temples, warm blue eyes, with an attractive rather than strictly good-looking face. She guessed him to be somewhere in his early forties.

  ‘How nice to see you again.’ Shay put out her hand in a friendly gesture, liking the firm but brief way he returned the politeness.

  His mouth twisted ruefully. ‘Although you don’t really understand what I’m doing here,’ he said self-derisively.

  It would be useless to deny that, although now that he was here she felt she probably owed him an apology. ‘I’m glad you are,’ she smiled. ‘I—I think perhaps I wasn’t very polite to you the last time we met, and—’

  He waved away the apology with a flick of his hand. ‘Under the circumstances, I’m surprised you noticed me at all,’ he dismissed softly. ‘It was your husband’s funeral, and you had no idea who I was or what I was doing there.’

  ‘No,’ she acknowledged huskily. ‘Nevertheless—’

  ‘Shay, I’m going to marry a woman you don’t even like very much, you don’t owe me any apologies for the distress you felt that day.’ He shook his head, smiling tightly. ‘Marilyn behaved disgracefully towards you; I can only say that she’s finding the experience of the divorce more traumatic than she realised.’

  Shay wished she had this man’s understanding—or was it a blind spot?—where Marilyn was concerned. But as far as she was concerned the other woman had always been a bitch, the day of Ricky’s funeral proving no exception.

  ‘Actually,’ Derrick spoke briskly as he saw the scepticism in her face, ‘I expected to find Marilyn here with you, but the maid told me she hasn’t arrived yet.’

  Shay’s brows rose in surprise. ‘Marilyn is coming to see me?’

  He nodded. ‘She asked me to meet her here on my way back from an appointment.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘But I have to get back to the office.’ He frowned. ‘Perhaps you could explain to her that I couldn’t wait?’

  ‘Of course,’ Shay assured him absently, wondering why Marilyn could possibly be going to call on her. ‘Er—Do you have any idea why she wants to see me?’ she asked Derrick.

  ‘Something to do with your husband’s will, I believe,’ he shrugged.

  Her brow cleared. ‘Could I offer you something to drink before you leave?’

  He smiled his gratitude at this show of friendliness on her part. ‘I really don’t have the time, but thank you, anyway.’ He gave a rueful smile.

  Shay felt sorry for him, knew it couldn’t be easy loving a woman like Marilyn. But she was grateful to him for giving her warning of Marilyn’s visit, even if it had been unintentional, ready for the other woman when she breezed into the lounge a short time later, having been too tense after Derrick’s visit to return to her work upstairs, flicking disinterestedly through a magazine as she waited for the other woman. She hadn’t had to wait long.

  ‘The maid informed me I’ve just missed Derrick,’ Marilyn greeted washpishly, her red hair a vivid splash of colour against the black severity of the suit she wore with a white blouse beneath, her make-up perfect as usual. The other woman certainly didn’t look the thirty-five she must now be.

  ‘Yes, he said he had to get back,’ Shay confirmed. ‘He’s a nice man,’ she said tentatively.

  ‘Very,’ the other woman snapped, the smile she gave not quite reaching her eyes. ‘I’ve brought those papers that I wanted you to look through,’ she explained her presence in what used to be her home.

  Shay nodded, Derrick having already told her that, smiling her thanks to Patty as she brought them in a pot of coffee. ‘I could have driven up to town,’ she told Marilyn lightly.

  ‘Not with Lyon watching over you like some mother-hen,’ Marilyn snapped. ‘He seems to think you’re made out of delicate china!’ she scorned.

  Shay only skimmed reading the contents of Ricky’s will, knew already what it outlined; she and Ricky had had no secrets from each other.

  ‘He’s received no encouragement from me,’ she snapped resentfully.

  ‘Lyon never needed any where you were concerned,’ the other woman sighed. ‘He went berserk once he realised you were half an hour late for our appointment last week. Are you feeling better now?’ she asked in a bored voice.

  Marilyn certainly hadn’t changed in the last six years, she had always been interested only in herself and the things that directly affected her, and she never tried to make a secret of that fact.

  ‘Almost completely.’ Shay handed back the papers, watching as the other woman put them away in her briefcase. ‘Would you like some coffee?’ she offered politely.

  ‘Thanks,’ Marilyn drawled, watching as Shay stood up to cross the room to the tray of coffee. ‘God, aren’t you uncomfortable?’ she suddenly exclaimed.

  Shay shrugged, knowing how ungainly she looked at just over seven months’ pregnant, often feeling very uncomfortable indeed. But she wasn’t about to admit that to Marilyn! ‘Not really,’ she shrugged. ‘It’s all a question of priorities; I want this baby.’

  Marilyn didn’t try to hide her disgust as Shay eased gingerly down into her chair. ‘You and Lyon both. But aren’t I glad I never had to go through a pregnancy,’ she confided. ‘Lyon seemed to think it was very important that we couldn’t have children. I didn’t like to tell him how relieved I’ve always been.’

  Shay stiffened, a frown marring her brow. ‘I
didn’t realise you couldn’t have children,’ she said breathlessly, perhaps better understanding why the marriage had broken down if there had been a conflict on the subject.

  ‘I didn’t say that,’ Marilyn snapped indignantly.

  ‘But—’

  ‘There was nothing wrong with me!’ the other woman asserted quickly. ‘I’m sure it isn’t going to hurt to tell you this, Lyon is very virile, a fantastic lover, but it just doesn’t lead to anything,’ she jeered.

  Shay swallowed hard, sure she had gone white. ‘Are you saying it’s Lyon’s fault you’ve never had children?’ she croaked. ‘That he’s sterile?’

  ‘Of course,’ Marilyn dismissed.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Shay frowned.

  ‘After trying since the beginning of our marriage, we had all the tests done when I hadn’t conceived after two years. The specialist told us it was Lyon’s fault I hadn’t become pregnant.’ Marilyn’s mouth twisted mockingly. ‘The Americans have a deliciously crude way of describing what’s wrong with Lyon,’ she said with relish. ‘Something to do with “shooting—"’

  ‘I’ve heard it,’ Shay cut in absently, her thoughts racing. So Lyon wanted her, did he? He was as deceitful as ever, wanted her baby not her! She must seem ideal to him now, a very pregnant widow who could give him the child he had always wanted.

  But she finally had it, the one weakness in the man she had believed not to have any. She had retribution for what Lyon had done to her six years before, and that retribution was her silence!

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  THERE WAS SOMETHING different about her tonight. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly what it was, except that she seemed filled with an inner serenity.

  After yesterday, he had expected her to avoid him at all costs, to continue to eat in her suite. She had greeted him at the dinner table with a query about his health after his fall yesterday. Matthew’s expression had clearly mocked his stunned surprise.

  She had continued to glow through dinner, to charm both him and Matthew with her light-hearted teasing. And he didn’t trust this change in her one little bit!

  He turned to Matthew as he realised his brother was looking at him expectantly. ‘Sorry?’

  Matthew’s mouth twisted derisively, clearly taunting Lyon’s lack of attention to the conversation. ‘Maybe if you took a little more interest in what was being said …?’ he mocked.

  One of these days he was going to do Matthew some physical injury! ‘I’m listening,’ he grated.

  Hazel eyes gleamed with the enjoyment of disconcerting Lyon. ‘Shay and I were just discussing Christmas.’

  Lyon stiffened warily, sure Shay would want to spend the holiday with her grandfather in Ireland, and equally sure he couldn’t let her travel only days before the baby was due to be born. ‘Yes?’ he prompted guardedly.

  ‘What do you think to the idea of letting Shay organise the party this year?’ Matthew queried.

  ‘Oh no, I couldn’t,’ she protested. ‘I—’

  ‘You aren’t going to Ireland!’ God, when was he going to learn to hold off on the arrogance with this woman, especially when she was holding a coffee cup in her hand!

  She stiffened resentfully, her eyes more purple than ever, but the angry retort he had been expecting didn’t materialise, and although it trembled slightly, the cup remained in her hands. ‘I do realise it would be too close to having the baby,’ she said stiltedly. ‘What I was about to say,’ her eyes flashed, ‘was that I wouldn’t feel right organising the party when it’s something Marilyn usually does.’

  He clamped his lips together to stop himself from pointing out that it would be far from the first time she had performed a duty in his life Marilyn used to do! That would guarantee the cup being thrown in his direction, he was sure of it. ‘Marilyn no longer lives here,’ he rasped. ‘And although I don’t want you to tire yourself, as the mistress of the house, the organisation of the party is now up to you.’ He looked at her challengingly.

  Her gaze met that challenge before she cut into him. ‘You’re right,’ she drawled. ‘Ricky would have wanted me to do it.’

  Bitch, he inwardly groaned, reeling from the blow she had deliberately dealt him.

  * * *

  SHAY ENJOYED seeing Lyon flinch, intended to make him suffer as she had once suffered. Before she had finished with him Lyon would be as desolate as she had once been.

  She had given away none of her elation to Marilyn that morning for her revelation, had even invited the other woman to stay to lunch. She had refused, thank goodness.

  But Shay no longer felt as if she were floundering about in the wake of Lyon’s much stronger nature, felt confident to deal with him now, no longer even minded giving in to his arrogance at times. She had a secret knowledge that she would keep to herself, knew about Lyon now, and felt comforted by it.

  She would enjoy organising the party the family usually gave at Christmas for relatives and friends, knew that as Ricky’s widow she had a right to the rôle. ‘Yes, I’d like to do it,’ she smiled. ‘And you can help me, Matthew.’

  ‘Me?’ His eyes widened. ‘I’ve never organised a party in my life!’

  ‘Well, you’re going to help organise one now,’ Shay told him firmly.

  ‘You never used to be as bossy as this,’ he muttered.

  ‘This is what happens after living with a man for five years who totally indulged me,’ she teased, looking up enquiringly as she heard Lyon draw in a hissing breath. ‘Something wrong, Lyon?’ she taunted.

  A nerve pulsed in his jaw. ‘You’re living here with Matthew and me now,’ he ground out unsteadily.

  ‘You make it sound almost indecent,’ she mocked. ‘When really Matthew loves me as a sister, and you—well, you aren’t quite the same, are you?’ she added huskily.

  His eyes were narrowed. ‘If you mean I don’t think of you as a sister too, the answer is no!’

  ‘But I didn’t mean that at all, Lyon,’ she said mockingly. ‘I meant that you probably have a woman in your life already.’

  ‘There’s no other woman,’ he bit out.

  ‘“Other" woman, Lyon?’ she repeated softly. ‘What do you mean?’

  His eyes gleamed golden. ‘I told you that Matthew being here won’t help you, and I meant it,’ he jeered harshly. ‘There is no other woman in my life because I’m going to have you,’ he told her bluntly. ‘Just as soon as you’ve had the baby.’ He marched out of the room.

  ‘And you can’t say clearer than that,’ Matthew drawled ruefully.

  ‘Can’t you?’ Shay looked at him with hard eyes. Matthew couldn’t be aware of Lyon’s problem, and she could guess why; Lyon’s pride would dictate as few people knew about it as possible. But because she knew she was also aware of something else Matthew couldn’t even begin to guess. As a pregnant widow, she was considered an ideal candidate for Lyon’s second wife, but he was going carefully, not making any definite commitment until he was sure the baby was all right. She was even going to enjoy letting him think she might eventually come round to that idea herself!

  ‘Gypsy, the man is frantic to have you,’ Matthew chided.

  ‘Because I’m unattainable,’ she snapped.

  ‘Are you?’ he mocked. ‘Last night when Wildfire came back alone I could have sworn you felt something for my big brother.’

  Shay’s eyes were cold. ‘For a moment I forgot it was Lyon who had been thrown,’ she bit out.

  ‘I don’t think I believe that.’ He shook his head.

  ‘Believe what you like, Matthew,’ she dismissed brittly, ‘but Lyon will never have me again.’

  ‘Whatever he did—’

  ‘You’ll never know what he did,’ she cut in. ‘Now let’s give some thought to this party, shall we?’ she suggested brightly.

  Matthew, for all that he said he knew nothing about arranging parties, knew the names of the caterers and other people Marilyn had always used in the past, but while Shay wrote them down she wasn’t sure she was goi
ng to use them; they would expect things to be done the way Marilyn had always had them, and this was going to be her party.

  Lyon didn’t come back into the lounge, she and Matthew played a game of cards once they had sorted out the details of the party, a smile curving Shay’s lips as she walked up the stairs to her bedroom shortly after eleven o’clock.

  She almost collided with Patty as the other woman came out of one of the rooms. ‘I’m sorry,’ she smiled as she steadied the other woman. ‘I—’ Shay broke off as she realised which room Patty was leaving, slowly turning to look in the still open doorway at Lyon sprawled out on his bed wearing his robe. ‘I didn’t mean to interrupt,’ she drawled scornfully.

  Patty looked stricken, a flush to her cheeks. ‘Shay—Mrs Falconer, I—’

  ‘There’s no need to feel embarrassed,’ she dismissed lightly.

  ‘But I was only—’

  ‘It’s really none of my business what you were doing,’ Shay shrugged. No wonder Lyon refused to have the other woman dismissed; she was his latest woman! Pity, she liked Patty.

  ‘What Patty is trying to say, Shay,’ Lyon declared heavily, having joined them at the door, ‘is that she only came up to bring me some cream for my leg. As you can see, it’s badly bruised,’ he drawled.

  She could imagine the livid purple and black bruising on his shin from his fall off Wildfire was very painful, but that hardly allowed for one of the maids creeping out of his bedroom this time of night. Her expression of contempt clearly told him that.

  His mouth tightened. ‘You can go now, Patty,’ he bit out. ‘And thank you for the cream.’

  ‘Really, Lyon,’ Shay drawled once Patty had hurried down the stairs. ‘She’s too nice for you.’

  ‘You—’

  ‘Poor Matthew just thinks you’re behaving with your usual arrogance by insisting Patty not be dismissed,’ she mused.

  ‘Matthew dislikes Patty only because she’s the maid that found him when he fell out of his chair that day,’ Lyon told her roughly. ‘He’s been trying to get rid of her ever since.’