‘She wouldn’t want to be free in that way,’ he said. ‘I know you don’t understand why she loves him, but it’s quite clear she does and maybe this situation is exactly what Owen needs to show him what a loyal wife he’s had all these years.’
Bryony considered his words as she sipped her wine. Her mother had certainly thrown herself into the primary carer role with gusto, taking charge of her husband’s needs with authority and competence. Gone were the jittery nerves and endless tears; in their place were calming words and quiet and steady devotion as she saw to the many intimate details of her father’s day.
‘Maybe you’re right…’ She looked up at him. ‘My father has always criticized my mother for fussing over silly little things, berating her for being too sensitive. But those are the very qualities he will need in her right now if he’s to get through this.’
‘Life has a habit of teaching us the lessons we need to learn,’ he said. ‘I’m a bit of a believer in what goes around comes around.’
‘Karma.’ She sighed as she cradled her glass in both hands and stared into the golden contents. ‘My father is in for a rude shock, then.’
‘Maybe.’
She lifted her gaze back to his. ‘What did he do? I mean, what did he do that would incur a lengthy prison sentence? You’ve never told me.’
Kane drained the contents of his glass and set it back down. Bryony couldn’t help thinking how loud the sound was in the sudden silence.
‘It’s irrelevant now,’ he said, picking up his cutlery. ‘I’ve sorted it all out.’
She frowned slightly. ‘How?’
‘The usual way.’
‘Money?’ she asked.
He dissected a piece of chicken and held it close to his mouth before he answered. ‘It’s the only language some of your father’s disgruntled cronies speak. It was pay them off or stand by and watch them take him out.’
‘He really had a contract on his head?’
‘Not just one, I’m afraid. He’d certainly angered a few people but what do you expect? If you hang around the wrong sort of dogs, sooner or later you’ll end up with fleas.’
Bryony toyed with her food, her appetite waning as she thought about what he’d said and also what he’d cleverly avoided telling her. She’d known her father wasn’t father of the year material but neither had she thought he was an underworld criminal. Her mind scurried with horrible scenarios—contract killings, blackmail, grievous bodily harm…
‘Quite frankly, I wasn’t all that interested in protecting your father’s back but word was going around that the people after him were going to issue a couple of serious warnings,’ he continued. ‘I couldn’t ignore that, no matter how much I thought your father deserved what was coming to him.’
Bryony put her cutlery down, her desire for food totally disappearing. ‘What sort of warnings?’
He refilled their glasses before he answered, his dark eyes coming back to hers, his expression serious. ‘The sort of people your father put offside don’t lie awake at night tortured by their conscience. They would think nothing of disposing of a wife and daughter to tighten the screws a bit.’
She stared at him as the sickening realisation dawned. ‘They were going to come after my mother and me?’ She shifted in her seat, knocking her cutlery to the floor with a jarring clatter.
‘You first—your mother second.’
She swallowed the rising fear, her throat aching with the effort. ‘How did you…how did you convince them not to do it?’
His eyes meshed with hers, their unreadable depths holding her captive for endless seconds before he finally spoke. ‘I married you.’
She swallowed deeply, her eyes widening in incredulity. ‘And that was enough to call them off?’
He picked up his glass and twirled the contents for a moment or two. ‘I won’t go into the details, but suffice it to say I was owed a favour or two. Once I made it clear you were to be my wife they had no choice but to back down. As soon as I released my grandfather’s funds I paid them all that your father owed with interest.’
Bryony found it hard to get her head around this latest development. She’d thought he’d married her to get back at her father but if what he said was true…
She sat back in her seat, mentally backtracking to the afternoon he’d arrived at Mercyfields to announce his plans, informing her of his ownership of her father’s business and assets. He’d made it clear she was part of the package for revenge, that if she didn’t marry him he was going to feed her parents to the sharks already circling them looking for blood. She’d been convinced she had to marry him to save them, had only done it so that her mother wouldn’t have to suffer. Why had he covered up his motives? Why hadn’t he come right out and told her of his plan to protect her from harm?
She looked back at him, her expression clouded with uncertainty and confusion.
‘Why didn’t you tell me the truth? Why didn’t you tell me you were marrying me to protect me? Why make me think the very worst of you?’
He pushed his chair back from the table and stood up, his height instantly shadowing her. ‘I didn’t make you think anything you didn’t already feel. You hated me from the moment I walked into Mercyfields as a teenager. You looked down your nose at me from day one, as did your family. I was scum, remember? The bastard son of a lowly housekeeper who lifted her skirts for the man of the house in order to keep food on the table.’
She got to her feet, surprised to find they were still capable of supporting her. ‘You should have told me. I had a right to know.’
‘I wasn’t prepared to risk it. Negotiations were tricky and I couldn’t afford to waste valuable time trying to convince you to follow my plan. I decided to spin things so you had no choice but to marry me. I know it was blackmail, but as far as I was concerned it was a means to an end. The alternative was too frightening to think about.’
She watched as he ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up at odd angles, making him seem uncharacteristically vulnerable and unguarded.
‘Why was it more frightening?’ she asked, watching him closely.
He didn’t answer. Instead, he gathered their half finished plates of food and disposed of the contents in the kitchen tidy, his actions effectively shutting her out.
‘Why, Kane?’ She approached him, touching him on the arm to make him look at her. ‘Why did you find the alternative frightening?’
His dark eyes met hers briefly before he turned back to the sink. ‘Leave it, Bryony. You and your family are safe; that’s all you need to know.’
She wanted to press him but could see by his taciturn manner that the subject was now closed. What secrets was he hiding about her father’s dodgy dealings? Was he trying to spare her further pain or refusing to speak of it for his own reasons?
She wondered if her parents knew how much they now owed him. The irony of it was striking. He’d come charging back into their lives, taking everything out from under her father, issuing demands to be met, speaking of revenge for past wrongs, when in truth his motives had been anything but vengeful.
It was unthinkable that her life had been in such danger, that her father’s underhand dealings had put both her mother and her at risk, but she’d read enough in the papers about how the underworld worked. It was definitely an eye for an eye out there, the law of the land holding no sway.
Kane switched the dishwasher on and, drying his hands on a tea towel, turned to leave the kitchen.
‘I’m going to have a shower. I’ll leave you to sleep in peace in the spare room.’
She hovered uncertainly, her expression falling at the thought of a long night alone.
‘You don’t want me to…?’ She hesitated, not sure she could finish her sentence without betraying the real state of her feelings.
He came back towards her, tilting her chin up so she had to look into his eyes. ‘You look done in, Bryony. There are shadows on top of shadows underneath your eyes.’
‘I don
’t want to sleep alone.’ There, she’d said it, admitted her need of him.
His hand moved from her chin to cup the side of her face, his thumb rolling across the smooth skin of her cheek in a softer than soft caress.
‘Please…’ She held his dark gaze, her tongue slipping out to moisten her dry lips. ‘I don’t want to be alone tonight.’
It seemed an age before he spoke.
‘If I was truly a gentleman I’d put you from me right now and insist you get the good night’s sleep you really need.’ His hands went to her hips, bringing her closer to him, not quite touching but close enough for her to feel the heat of his body.
‘I’m not tired.’ She pressed even closer.
His eyes burned down into hers and she felt the unmistakable spring of his body against hers, making her own flesh leap into life with clawing need.
His mouth came down slowly, her eyes fluttering closed as his lips found hers, touching, pressing, lifting off briefly before coming back down with increasing pressure. She felt the gentle probe of his tongue and opened to it, circling its commanding presence with her own in soft, more hesitant movements. His arms tightened around her, his body hard and insistent against her softer yielding one.
He tore his mouth off hers to look down at her, his dark eyes glazed with desire. ‘If we don’t move right now this kitchen is going to see a little more heat than it’s currently used to.’
She snaked her arms up around his neck and rubbed herself up against him enticingly, her blue eyes shining with passion. ‘Just how hot does it get in here?’
He gave her a bone-melting sexy smile. ‘Want to find out?’
‘Why not?’ She dimpled at him mischievously.
He walked her backwards, thigh upon thigh until she was up against the kitchen bench. He lifted her effortlessly so she was sitting, her legs either side of him, her head thrown back as he released the tie of the bathrobe.
What followed next both shocked and thrilled her. His tongue left no part of her feminine form unexplored, drawing from her a response she hadn’t thought possible. It was wild and unrestrained. It was heady and intoxicating; it was exhilarating and rapturous. She slumped when the tumult was over, her chest rising and falling as she struggled to restore some sort of normal breathing pattern.
He stood back from her, his eyes wild with unrelieved desire. ‘Is that hot enough for you?’
She shimmied down off the bench and reached for the waistband of his trousers, sending him a sultry look from beneath her downcast lashes. ‘Not quite. Why don’t we see if this does the trick?’
He drew in a sharp breath as her searching fingers found and released him, her open mouth coming down, her warm breath feathering over his engorged length.
His hands went to her head to stabilize himself as her tongue ran in slow motion along the length of him, tasting him at the tip before going back in agonizingly slow movements, the slight abrasion of her tongue an exquisite torture in his heightened state of arousal.
He felt himself coming, unable to hold it back, the force of it rendering him helpless under the ministrations of her mouth. His scalp lifted as he braced himself for the final plunge, his voice hoarse as he tried to warn her, ‘I can’t hold it any longer.’
She drew on him even harder and he spilled, his body shuddering with the impact as she held him against her mouth, her hands tight on his hips.
After a few heart-thundering moments he eased himself away, his hands drawing her upwards until she was standing upright against him.
‘You didn’t have to do that.’
She ran her tongue across her lips, her bluer than blue gaze smouldering. ‘I enjoyed it, didn’t you?’
His breath snagged on her sexy smile. ‘You know I did.’
She snuggled against him. ‘Can we go to bed now?’
He drew her close, burying his head into the fragrant cloud of her hair. ‘I can think of nothing better.’
A few minutes later Bryony lay back to receive him, his hard body pressing her into the mattress, his mouth on hers, his hands everywhere she wanted them.
No words were spoken, their bodies relaying the message of passion with fervent energy as each of them clamoured for their own release. Bryony distantly registered her sobbing cries against the hard muscles of his shoulder where her mouth was pressed and then, when his answering groan sounded as he emptied himself, her heart tightened in relief that she could have that effect on him.
She closed her eyes to the summon of sleep, her head on his chest, his heart thudding beneath her ear as his arms came around her like an embrace of velvet-covered steel.
She felt safe.
He was her protector.
She owed him her life…
Kane had left by the time she surfaced the next morning and, doing her best to squash her feelings of disappointment, she busied herself with getting ready to accompany her parents on the journey to Mercyfields.
When she arrived at the hospital her father was in a filthy mood but her mother was coping with uncharacteristic strength of spirit, issuing orders to the transporting staff as if she’d been doing it all her life.
Bryony stood back and watched as her father was wheeled into the back of the ambulance, his features distorted by a heavy scowl. In spite of her animosity she felt a faint trace of empathy for him. How the mighty are fallen, she thought as she followed the ambulance on the long drive to Mercyfields.
Not long after her father had been settled for an afternoon rest the front doorbell of Mercyfields sounded. Bryony gave her mother a quick questioning glance but Glenys looked at her blankly.
‘Who can that be? I’m not expecting anyone, are you? Kane said he was coming down tomorrow for the weekend, not today.’
Bryony got to her feet and made her way to the door, opening it to find an air courier standing there with a pet carrier in one hand.
‘Delivery for Mrs Glenys Mercer,’ he announced. ‘I need a signature.’
Bryony turned to her mother, who was hovering in the background. ‘Do you know anything about this?’
Glenys approached warily, her gaze going to the now wriggling carrier in the courier’s hand.
‘I’m not expecting any delivery,’ she said, placing a nervous hand to her neck.
The courier gave them both a don’t-tell-me-I’ve-driven-all-this-way-for-nothing look and handed Bryony the carrier. ‘Sign here.’ He thrust a pen into her hand. ‘Pedigree puppy for Mrs Mercer, a gift from Mr Kane Kaproulias.’
Bryony scratched her signature and handed back the form to the courier, taking the carrier without demur. She waited until he’d gone before setting the crate down and opening the door.
A tiny Cavalier King Charles spaniel puppy came waddling out, his big bug eyes wide in both innocence and trepidation.
Bryony felt herself melting as the tiny body came towards her. ‘Mum, look!’ She picked up the tiny bundle and cuddled it closely, delighting in the lapping of the little enthusiastic tongue as it found her cheek. ‘Look what Kane has sent you! A puppy to keep you company while you look after Dad.’
Glenys stared at the puppy in horror, her face crumpling as she clutched at the nearest surface for support.
‘Oh, my God!’ she gasped and sank to the bench seat in the foyer, looking up at Bryony in anguished despair. ‘How could he have possibly known?’
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BRYONY stared at her mother blankly. ‘Mum? What’s the matter? I thought you loved dogs. Here, look—isn’t he gorgeous?’ She held the squirming puppy in front of her mother but Glenys instantly shrank back, her face a deathly white.
‘No, take it away…please.’
Bryony frowned as her mother got unsteadily to her feet, her high heels click-clacking agitatedly as she hurried off into the green sitting room, closing the door firmly behind her.
Bryony put the puppy back in the carrier and, leaving it out of harm’s way, made her way to her mother, her puzzled frown even more entrenched on her br
ow.
When she’d seen the puppy she had been touched by Kane’s thoughtfulness, knowing he had done it to help ease the burden her mother carried in looking after her father. Her mother’s reaction was certainly confusing, considering how devoted she had been to Nero, the neighbour’s dog, in the past. Bryony knew her mother had been very upset at Nero’s death, but surely it wasn’t still affecting her after all this time?
When Bryony opened the door Glenys was standing, staring out of the window overlooking the lake.
‘Mum?’
Glenys turned around to face her and again Bryony was instantly struck by her ghostly pallor.
‘Darling…I have something to tell you. I should have told you a long time ago but…’ Glenys brushed at her leaking eyes and continued. ‘Your father thought it best we let things stand as they were. It was too late to change anything. Kane had been taken away and the chance to tell the truth had gone.’
Bryony felt her legs begin to tremble at the tortured expression on her mother’s face.
‘Go on.’
Glenys looked at her without wavering. ‘It wasn’t Kane who killed Nero. It was me.’
‘You?’ Bryony’s eyes widened in shock.
Glenys gave her a pained look. ‘I didn’t mean to, of course…’ She began to wring her thin hands. ‘I overheard the argument between Kane and your father. Things were said…I don’t want to distress you with the details—’
‘I know about Dad’s affair with Kane’s mother.’
Her mother’s face fell. ‘I wish I could have spared you that.’ She sat on the edge of the nearest sofa and continued, staring at her knotted hands as she did so. ‘I was so angry and upset. I got in my car and bolted out the driveway…I didn’t even see Nero until he was…under the front wheel. I didn’t know what to do. I stopped and, wrapping him in the car blanket, took him back to the house, but when I came around the side I saw Kane driving the tractor through the rose garden. He’d already ruined the lawn…’
‘Oh, Mum,’ Bryony groaned.
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