The Redemption of Darius Sterne

by Carole Mortimer

  Her heart melted now as she saw the desolation in Darius’s expression as he looked down at her blankly.

  ‘I’m not suicidal, Darius,’ Xander spoke huskily, as if it hurt to do so. Which it probably did, when his ribs were badly bruised. ‘I just... I went on to the club late last night and something happened, Darius.’ Xander’s voice cracked, dark eyes glistening with emotion. ‘Something so—I lost control, Darius!’ He gave a pained groan. ‘I lost control, and I never wanted to be like him!’

  ‘Him?’ Darius repeated cautiously.

  ‘Our father!’ Xander snapped angrily. ‘I don’t want—I never want to be him.’

  ‘You aren’t in the least like him,’ Darius cut in harshly. ‘And you never could be.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘You are nothing like him, Xander,’ Darius insisted firmly. ‘If you lost control then you had a damned good reason for doing so, I’m sure,’ he added grimly.

  Xander gave a shake of his head. ‘There’s no excuse for the way I behaved.’

  ‘There is!’ Darius’s hands were once again clenched at his sides. ‘There must be,’ he insisted firmly.

  Xander’s expression softened. ‘I want to believe that, but...’

  ‘But nothing,’ his twin dismissed bleakly. ‘Xander, we both suffered at his hands, you physically, and me— Do you have any idea of the guilt I’ve carried around all these years?’

  Xander visibly swallowed. ‘Guilt?’

  ‘Yes, damn it, because I was the one he didn’t hit!’ Darius moved restlessly away from the bed, his face as pale as his twin’s. ‘So many times I tried to draw his attention away from you, but it never worked.’ He drew in a ragged breath. ‘And all these years I’ve wondered if I could have done something differently. If I had maybe just...’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault, Darius,’ Xander reassured him gruffly.

  ‘It always felt as if it was!’ He breathed heavily. ‘That last time he hit you—I just wanted it to stop, Xander. For him to stop!’

  ‘I know, Darius.’ His twin spoke softly. ‘Mother and I have always known, but been too afraid to ask, to confirm, our suspicions. I’ve dealt with it by ignoring it, and Mother has dealt with it by a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy that has resulted in the two of you barely speaking to each other unless it’s absolutely necessary.’

  ‘Dealt with what?’ Darius looked baffled.

  Andy had been feeling decidedly uncomfortable these past few minutes, knowing she was intruding on a very private conversation between the two brothers, and that she was learning much more about the Sterne twins than Darius would thank her for when he was feeling less emotional. ‘I think I should go now and leave the two of you to talk,’ she put in softly.

  The brothers both turned to look at her blankly, confirming they had both forgotten she was there.

  ‘When, or if, you have the time, could I ask that you call me to let me know how Xander is?’ she now asked Darius gently before turning to smile at Xander. ‘And you just concentrate on getting better, hmm?’ she encouraged huskily. ‘Your brother loves you very much.’

  Xander’s smile was bleak. ‘I know.’

  ‘I’ll walk you out, Miranda,’ Darius stated evenly.

  ‘There’s no need, really.’

  ‘There’s every need,’ he insisted firmly. ‘I’ll be back in a few minutes,’ he assured Xander before following Andy from the room. ‘I’m sorry you had to hear any of that,’ he said gruffly once they were outside in the hospital corridor.

  Andy wasn’t. The conversation between the two brothers had been very revealing. And it confirmed, she believed, that the way Darius distanced himself from others, and his difficult relationship with his mother, all stemmed from a childhood spent with what now sounded like an abusive father, and a mother who preferred not to talk about it after the death of her husband.

  She placed her hand on Darius’s arm. ‘You and Xander need to talk.’

  ‘It seems that we do.’ He nodded grimly. ‘I— Thank you for driving me here today, Miranda. I appreciate it more than I can tell you. I’ll talk to you again when I’ve sorted this mess out.’

  ‘Don’t worry about me, Darius,’ Andy hastened to reassure him, not wanting him to feel as if he had to contact her, be with her, again. ‘Just concentrate on sorting out your relationship with Xander and your mother.’

  He grimaced. ‘It sounds pretty messed up, hmm?’

  ‘It sounds...complicated. But if anyone can resolve it, you can,’ she added reassuringly.

  ‘I admire your confidence in my abilities—’ he smiled bleakly ‘—but it sounds as if I should have done that years ago.’

  Andy squeezed his arm. ‘Then you’ll do it now.’

  Darius looked down at her. ‘You really believe that, don’t you?’

  She smiled. ‘You’re Darius Sterne. Of course I believe it.’

  He took both of her hands in his much larger ones. ‘And you’re Miranda Jacobs. And you should dance again.’

  ‘What?’ Andy gave him a frowning glance.

  ‘You should dance at my mother’s gala, Miranda,’ he told her gruffly.

  She swallowed. ‘I don’t think...’ She gave a slightly dazed shake of her head. ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Good.’ He gave her hands a squeeze before releasing them and stepping back. ‘I’ll call you later,’ he promised.

  * * *

  ‘Mother, I wanted to talk to you about— Miranda?’

  Andy had given a start at the unexpected sound of Darius’s voice, her hands starting to shake and causing the fine china teacup to rattle in its saucer, as she turned to look at him across Catherine Latimer’s elegantly decorated blue and cream drawing room.

  It had been five days since Sunday night when Darius had called her and reassured her that the doctors had said that Xander would eventually make a full recovery.

  Since then there had been only silence between them.

  And it wasn’t too difficult to guess why.

  Andy had known at the time that Darius wouldn’t thank her for overhearing that conversation between himself and Xander.

  Although she doubted that was the only reason for Darius’s silence.

  The two of them had made love last Sunday, and the fact that Darius hadn’t contacted her since seemed to indicate he now regretted it. As Andy had suspected he might. He might have desired her, wanted to make love to her, but she really wasn’t his type.

  Looking at Darius now, dressed in one of those exquisite business suits he habitually wore, made it hard for Andy to believe he was the same man who had made love to her the previous weekend.

  Difficult, but not impossible, as the heated awareness now suffusing Andy’s body testified!

  Caught up now, as she was, in the direct glow of his eyes, Andy couldn’t have answered his question at that moment if her life had depended upon it.

  Darius strolled further into the drawing room, his narrowed gaze fixed firmly on her. ‘Miranda?’ he repeated huskily.

  Andy carefully placed her teacup down on the coffee table before standing up, her legs trembling as she did so. Seeing Darius again so unexpectedly had thrown her completely.

  She was relieved she had at least worn a formal pale green blouse, tucked into tailored black trousers, for this arranged meeting today with Catherine Latimer. Her hair was also newly washed and styled, so she could at least meet Darius on an equal footing in regard to her appearance.

  She turned to smile reassuringly at the older woman. ‘I think we’ve said all we need to say for today, Catherine, so I’ll leave you alone to talk with your son now.’

  Pleasure shone in the older woman’s eyes. ‘I can’t tell you how pleased I am that you’ve changed your mind.’

  Darius might now
regret their intimacies of the previous weekend, but that didn’t mean that Andy hadn’t listened to him at the hospital when he had suggested she should dance at the gala his mother was organising. Especially when he had been so confident that she could.

  Determined not to dwell on thoughts of Darius, of what he meant to her, Andy had instead agonised about whether or not she could dance again in public. Was she was emotionally strong enough to do so, as well as physically?

  Darius’s confidence in her had been the deciding factor in all that agonising. He believed in her. Believed she could do it.

  Her visit to Catherine Latimer today, to accept her invitation to dance at the gala, was the result of all that agonising.

  Although she didn’t think now was the time for her to talk about that decision with Darius.

  Andy glanced across at the glowering Darius. ‘I really do have to go now. No, please don’t bother to call the butler,’ she added hastily as Catherine would have summoned the middle-aged retainer who had shown her into the drawing room earlier. ‘It’s a nice day, so I didn’t bring a coat, and I can find my own way out.’

  Darius was still so stunned at finding Miranda here that he was only half listening to the conversation between his mother and his—wait, what exactly was Miranda to him? His lover? Because there was no doubt in his mind, despite the fact that he deliberately hadn’t seen or spoken to her since last Sunday, that that was exactly what she was.

  And she had been positively the last person he had been expecting to see when he’d called to see his mother this morning!

  So much so that he couldn’t even think of the words to now stop Miranda from leaving as she moved quietly past him before exiting the drawing room and stepping out into the hallway.

  Andy gratefully breathed the fresh spring air into her lungs once she stood on the top step outside the house, leaning back gratefully on the front door of the Latimers’ London home, her knees feeling suddenly weak.

  Despite her hopes that Darius and his mother had healed the long-held rift between them, Darius had still been the last person Andy had expected to see today.

  It was a shock that had so obviously been mutual. Darius had looked as stunned to see her as she was to—

  Andy almost fell backwards into the house as the front door was wrenched open behind her, and she fought to retain her balance even as she turned to face Darius.

  She instantly raised her chin defensively. ‘I know how strange this must look to you, but I assure you my visit to your mother this morning has absolutely nothing to do with you.’

  Darius smiled as a five-day-long heaviness seemed to lift from his chest. ‘I never for a moment assumed that it did.’

  ‘No?’ There was still that challenging spark in her eyes.

  Darius tilted his head. ‘Are you angry with me?’

  Andy opened her mouth, and then closed it again, as she realised she was angry. And hurt.

  This man had made love to her last Sunday, and apart from a brief—very brief—telephone call late on Sunday evening Andy hadn’t heard another word from him since. About anything.

  The newspapers had been full of the story of Xander Sterne’s car accident this past week, describing his injuries as extensive. Obviously the press were prone to exaggeration, but when Andy had enquired after Xander this morning Catherine Latimer had assured her that Xander would only be in the private clinic for a few more days.

  But Andy knew it wasn’t Darius’s silence regarding his brother that hurt her.

  She had known after their lovemaking on Sunday that she would never mean anything more to Darius than those brief moments of pleasure. And his silence these past five days had only confirmed that. It hurt so much.

  Oh, she hadn’t fooled herself for a minute into believing that their lovemaking meant any more to him than had the legion of other women he had taken to bed over the past fifteen years. But she hadn’t realised just how much it would hurt not to receive so much as even a courtesy phone call from him this past week. His complete silence had just been insulting.

  She drew in a deep breath. ‘I have to go. I have a class in a little under an hour.’

  Darius frowned. Okay, so his emotions had been so—so confused these past five days that he had made a conscious decision not to call Miranda again until he knew what was going on in his head, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t thought about her constantly since Sunday. That he hadn’t relived and enjoyed, over and over again, the memories of the two of them making love together. Or that he hadn’t puzzled over exactly why that was. And what it meant...

  Because he had done all of those things.

  And he had also known when he’d got out of bed this morning, after another restless night’s sleep thinking about her, that this couldn’t go on any longer, that he needed to see her again, to kiss her, to make love to her. He had fully intended to see Miranda later today.

  Walking into his mother’s home and finding Miranda calmly drinking tea from one of his mother’s twee china cups had been the last thing he had expected!

  He gazed down at her hungrily now through narrowed lids and he knew exactly why he had so badly needed to see and be with her again.

  ‘I would love to stand here and talk to you all morning,’ she now told Darius with ill-concealed insincerity as she gave an impatient glance down at her wristwatch, ‘but I really do have a class in just under an hour. And you’re obviously here to visit your mother,’ she reminded him.

  ‘You and I need to talk.’

  ‘Some other time,’ she dismissed distractedly, her smile bright and meaningless as she turned to go down the rest of the steps and along the path towards the metal gate leading out onto the street.

  Darius watched in frustration the gentle sway of Miranda’s hips as she let herself out of the gate before turning and walking the short distance to where her car was parked further down the street. She unlocked the door and got in behind the wheel before turning on the engine and driving away.

  All without so much as giving him even the briefest backward glance, and the contained expression on Miranda’s face as she drove away told him that she had already dismissed him.

  His first instinct was to follow her right now, and demand that she finish their conversation. He also intuited that Miranda didn’t want to talk to him.

  Well, to hell with that!

  The two of them needed to talk. Not least about the conversation she had overheard at the hospital a week ago between himself and Xander.

  * * *

  ‘So this is your little dance studio...’

  Andy had been in the middle of her limbering down routine, following her late morning class, but she turned sharply now to look across the studio to where Tia Bellamy posed elegantly in the doorway.

  Tia looked as beautiful as ever, in a fitted black dress, and four-inch-heeled strappy sandals—instantly making Andy aware of how dishevelled and sweaty she was in her leotard, the dampness of her hair confined in a topknot, the flatness of her ballet shoes also making her several inches shorter than Tia.

  Deliberately so?

  Probably, Andy conceded heavily as she picked up a towel and draped it about the dampness of her neck and shoulders, before answering the other woman. ‘Yes, this is my dance studio.’

  Blue eyes swept over the mirrored room contemptuously, that gaze no less condescending as it returned to Andy. ‘I suppose it’s one way to make a living.’

  ‘I suppose it is,’ Andy echoed wryly; the gloves definitely appeared to be off today. Not such a surprise, when there was no male audience for Tia to play to! ‘What can I do for you, Tia?’ she enquired briskly as she tidied the benches along one wall, picking up a stray towel here and there ready for the laundry. ‘I take it this isn’t a social call?’

  ‘Hardly, when you and I were never frie
nds to begin with.’ Tia made no attempt to hide her disdain.

  Andy gave her a considering look. ‘Why was that? What was it about me that you disliked from the moment we were first introduced?’

  ‘Don’t be naive, Andy,’ the older woman replied sharply.

  ‘I’m not.’ Andy’s expression was genuinely perplexed as she gave a shake of her head. ‘I truly have no idea what I ever did to you to make you dislike me so much.’

  Blue eyes narrowed viciously. ‘You existed!’

  Andy’s breath caught at the back of her throat at the sound of the other woman’s vitriol. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Of course you don’t.’ Tia continued to glare at her. ‘You were such a little innocent it never even occurred to you that I was older than you, more senior than you in the ballet company, and that it should have been me who was chosen to dance the lead in Giselle and Swan Lake, rather than being chosen as your understudy.’

  ‘It wasn’t—I wasn’t responsible for making those choices.’ Andy gave a dazed shake of her head.

  Tia snorted scornfully. ‘Oh, everyone talked for months about how wonderful you were—the ballet company, other dancers, the public. You were tipped to be the next Fonteyn.’ Her top lip curled. ‘What a pity you ultimately weren’t able to live up to all that potential!’

  ‘That wasn’t my fault.’

  ‘Isn’t that the age-old cry of every failure that ever lived?’ Tia strolled further into the studio, the coldness of her gaze sweeping disparagingly over all that Andy had worked so hard to achieve and build these past years.

  Andy remembered what Darius’s response had been the night she had called herself a failure. ‘I didn’t fail, Tia, I just made a career change because of my circumstances.’

  Tia gave a smile much like a cat that had lapped up a bowl of cream. ‘And what circumstances would those be, Andy?’

  Andy let out an impatient sigh. ‘Look, Tia, I have absolutely no idea what you’re doing here...what possible reason you could have for deliberately seeking me out in this way.’ Because, there was no denying it, the other woman had come here deliberately. ‘But I think it obvious from our brief conversation that we have nothing left to say to each other.’