Yesterday's Sins

by Wine, Shirley

  "Skeletons." The correction was automatic, her gaze never leaving Sarah's face. "Is this for school?"

  "We're studying animals. Mr. Owen's taking us to a farm on Wednesday." Sarah looked up at Kate with wide, curious eyes. "Do you have any little girls?"

  Kate's glance sought Alex leaning against the windowsill, watching. How could she answer? He offered no help. She believed in honesty but she'd also promised not to reveal the truth.

  "A long time ago I had a little girl." The rusty catch of emotion caught at her voice. "But not anymore."

  "What happened to her? Did she die?"

  "No." A knife pierced Kate's heart. "I left her with her daddy."

  Sarah frowned as she studied Kate and then she smiled as if this made perfect sense.

  "My mummy left me with my daddy." She held up a picture. "Is this a cow or a sheep?"

  Kate swallowed a sigh at Sarah's abrupt change of subject. To her, the subject was of less importance than a school project, or this first visit with her mother.

  "Why not try and match the length of the legs."

  Sarah carefully measured the legs and then gave a whoop of delight. "You're clever Kate."

  As she cut and pasted the two remaining skeletons in place, Kate watched her intense concentration with sadness. This child was the missing piece of her heart. And for the first time, she saw clearly what she'd walked away from.

  She'd missed so many years, years that could never be recaptured. Tears scalded the back of her eyes and she blinked hard. A warm hand rested on her shoulder.

  Alex understood.

  She glanced at him and compassion stared back. He pitied her? She moved sharply, repudiating it. She neither wanted nor needed his pity.

  "I've finished, Daddy," Sarah announced breaking the fraught moment.

  Alex crouched down to her level, studying her project and then patted her head. "You can be proud of this. Do you want to show Kate your dolls?"

  Fighting against the inconvenient rush of mother-love, Kate followed slowly. She longed to gather the child in her arms and hold her close but instead concentrated on the dolls.

  Dolls of every shape and size sat in rows on chairs.

  "You have to admire Sarah's dolls." Alex gave her an amused smile as he walked at her side. "She loves them all. It's a big job to remember their names."

  "Daddy's always getting them wrong." Sarah bounced across to a child sized rocking chair and picked up a blonde doll, obviously well loved. "This is Cassie, she's my favourite."

  "Why is she your favourite?"

  "Dunno." Sarah shrugged; her small bony shoulders almost reached her ears. "She just is."

  Kate looked at the array of dolls, frowning. What was it about this doll that called to Sarah above all the others?

  "A real logical explanation," Alex tousled Sarah's hair, a wealth of love and affection in the simple gesture. "I certainly remember that doll. Until she went to school, Cassie was her constant companion."

  "And Raffie." Sarah darted across the room and picked up a tattered and well-worn giraffe.

  "Heaven help us if we couldn't find Cassie or Raffie at bedtime." He gave Kate another of those enigmatic smiles as he gifted her with this snippet of information.

  The hollow ache in Kate's heart expanded. She didn't even know what toys her child loved and treasured.

  She'd missed so much of Sarah's life.

  So many years that would never come again.

  This visit was proving to be more painful than she'd ever imagined. She glanced at Alex but gleaned nothing from his expression. She would give anything to know his thoughts. Was he upset at her being this close to her daughter?

  "Men aren't very good with names and birthdays and things. I bet you have to remind him when it's your birthday?"

  "Noni reminds him." Sarah laughed, the sound so like Alex's it sent a shaft of agony slivering through Kate.

  "Noni was my nurse." Alex gave her a strange look she didn't understand. "She's looked after Sarah all her life."

  Jealousy caught Kate by surprise.

  She was the person who should have nurtured and cared for this child. Not some nurse.

  When she'd run away, she'd forfeited that right.

  She turned away to hide her distress.

  "Why don't you go and see if afternoon tea is ready, Sarah," Alex suggested quietly. "Tell Maria well have it in the blue sitting room."

  "Can I have my milk with you?"

  "Of course, Kate's visiting with you too." Alex put a hand under Kate's elbow and steered her out of the spacious play room. "While you help Maria I'll show Kate around upstairs, okay."

  Kate watched Sarah with hungry eyes as she skipped down the stairs. Her long hair, caught back in a practical pony tail, bobbed against her sweatshirt with each step.

  Alex turned her face up to his. "Remorse, Catriona?"

  "How could I not feel remorse? She's a lovely child. Thank you for allowing me to meet her."

  Alex mouth tightened and his grey eyes went dark. "You must think I'm a monster."

  Do I? At one time my answer would have been an unhesitating yes—now—?

  She pulled away, uncomfortable with her emotions.

  Unable to put into words the wrenching anguish of being so close to Sarah, and yet so far removed.

  "Come and look at the rest of the house." Alex's clipped tone made her nervous. "Sarah will expect you look at her bedroom."

  Kate stumbled after him wondering what she'd said to upset him as he crossed the wide landing and opened a door.

  "This is Sarah's room."

  It was a beautiful. All polished panelling, chintz and pale paint work. A window seat held dolls and soft toys, propped against pillows in a multitude of shapes and colours.

  It was far too easy to imagine Sarah sprawled there, playing.

  In one corner was a huge Bentwood rocker. Had Alex sat in that chair rocking a tiny Sarah to sleep?

  Pain and guilt splintered Kate's heart.

  She should've been there for Sarah. She should have rocked her child and soothed her baby tears.

  Instead she'd chosen to walk away.

  She dragged her gaze from that chair and saw a small wooden box on the polished dresser.

  Its magnetism pulled her.

  On unsteady steps she crossed the room and lifted the lid with aching fingers, closing her eyes as the melody trembled in the air.

  Oh, the painful echoes of my past.

  I lifted this very lid questioning if it was wise to visit Alexandros Korda that fateful morning all those years ago.

  "This was mine, I wondered where it was. It's the Cullum music box."

  "I found it in your bedroom." Alex watched her, his expression inscrutable. "Every child should have something of its mother. I hope you're not offended that I kept it for Sarah."

  Kate was unable to meet his eyes.

  This music box held her life, the very fabric of her soul.

  Had Sarah been lulled to sleep at night by the same melody that had soothed her own childhood? Did Alex know how significant this box was? It held her family history.

  Memories of her mother were as clear as yesterday. Kate could see her face as she recounted the legend of the box. How often she'd sat on her mother's bed and listened to these haunting notes while her mother dressed to go out with her father.

  Remembered grief surfaced, hers and Chris's, as they wept in their father's arms when he told then their mother would never come home.

  Kate closed her eyes on the vivid memories.

  How right it was that Sarah should have had this tangible reminder of the mother who'd walked away and left her behind. It was her rightful heritage.

  "This was my mother's. It's been handed down in her family for generations." Kate closed the lid when the notes died and stroked the box with reverent fingers. "My father gave Chris the Cullum Kilt pin and me the music box when she died."

  Kate sensed Alex's shock and she glanced at him.

&
nbsp; "I didn't know that." He sounded horrified.

  "Of course you didn't know the music box was a treasured memento of my mother. How could you? You never wanted to know about me, my hopes or dreams, or my family."

  Her accusations sent ruddy colour seeping up under his tan. "By the time I wanted to ask questions, you were gone."

  "And even now, you wonder why," she asked, her voice soft with contempt. "After you'd reached out an imperious hand, Alex, and snatched away my dreams, there was no way I could stay with you."

  He raked a hand through his hair. "You think I don't know that?"

  "Now maybe, then I don't think it even crossed your mind that I was a person with hopes and dreams."

  His colour faded as he crossed the space and laid a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

  "You're sorry?" She looked at him shaking her head.

  Alex no more understood her now, than he had then. Didn't he understand how much it had damaged her when he'd taken her from the brink of womanhood to the dark place beyond, without the leavening of love?

  Shaken by the insight, Kate touched the wooden box, steeped in the wisdom of ages past. The women who'd treasured it through the centuries had surely known unhappiness as well as joy. Life was surely a mixture of both.

  "There's no way we can turn back the clock," he said, his expression grim.

  "No we can never go back." Kate shook her head. "And no apology, no amount of remorse, can undo what you did. Surely you must understand that?"

  "I understand far more than you realize," he said, his grim tone sent a shiver down her spine.

  Did he? Kate shook her head. Her girlhood, finished before it had begun, was irretrievable. Wisdom decreed she leave it behind. And look to the future.

  "Do you want the music box back?"

  Kate recoiled as if he'd struck her. How could he be so insensitive? Regretful tears stung her eyes and brimmed over. "No. How could you even suggest it? It's hers by right. She must love it."

  Clinging to the past and its wrongs had brought her far too much heartache and grief.

  "Tears, Cat?" He caught her chin tipping her face up. His hands framed her face, thumbs smoothing the errant tears tumbling onto her cheeks.

  "I never saw you cry," His flat grave voice robbed her of words. "I remember you in so many moods, angry, defiant, stubborn, laughing, and slumberous with passion. But never in tears."

  "I've never cried."

  Until you reappeared in my life, now I can't seem to stop.

  Desperately she pulled away, seeking a less contentious subject.

  "To answer your earlier question, Sarah does love the music box." Alex gripped her shoulders and turned her to face him. "Do you have regrets?"

  "Of course I have regrets." She wrenched away from his hold, her muttered words sitting in the lengthening silence. She walked across to the bed stroking the duvet with trembling fingers.

  "Too late," he replied grimly. "I was stupid to have allowed you to come here. It can only cause upset."

  Of course he didn't want her here, bringing the past to life, when he'd finally decided to put it all behind him and marry.

  "I believe congratulations are in order," she said on a shaky indrawn breath.

  His brow descended in a black scowl. "Congratulations?"

  "You told Dave Storey you were getting married. I'm glad for you."

  His expression had her taking an agitated breath. She knew she'd just crossed some unseen barrier and destroyed their fragile truce.

  "Are you Catriona?" He raised a sardonic eyebrow. "How very civilized of you."

  "It's Kate," she said in a low angry voice.

  "To me, you'll always be Catriona. Do come and take a look at the matrimonial bower I've prepared. Do you think my wife like it?"

  He caught her hand, pulling her along with him, ignoring her struggles. He threw open the doors of the room that crossed one end of the whole of the top floor.

  She'd spent a lot of time in this room showing it to clients.

  But nothing prepared her for the charm and beauty Alex had achieved. The kauri panelling on the doors and skirting, and the built-in window seat, gleamed.

  Cream walls a perfect foil for two landscapes.

  But Kate's attention was riveted on a huge four poster bed, spread with a white, crocheted spread. The bed posts, draped in a delicate rose tapestry fabric, repeated in the curtains, wingback chairs and sofa day bed.

  The floor was covered with plush piled, grey green carpet.

  The simplicity was timeless and elegant.

  But it was the huge bed that captured and held her attention. It was a bed made for lovers.

  It took no effort to visualize Alex's powerful, naked body resting back against the snowy linen, sated and relaxed from shared pleasure, herself relaxed and pliant from his ardent caresses.

  Heat surged up her neck and cheeks at the image of sharing that bed with Alex.

  Am I losing my mind?

  Her throat was dry. Repressed need churned her stomach. Desire spread its invasive tentacles.

  "Do you think my wife will approve?"

  "Who wouldn't?" Kate hunched in her jacket, desperate to be anywhere but in this room, with this man.

  The thought of Alex sharing that bed with another woman made her sick with jealousy. He gripped her chin turning her face upwards. Kate stared mesmerized, into eyes that were almost black. Embers she'd thought long dead were fanned into life.

  Dark, forceful and irresistible.

  "What's the matter, Catriona Are you remembering how it was between us?"

  "No."

  Kate struggled against a desire so strong, it frightened her.

  Alex's nearness stoked it to white heat.

  So much for her vow never to overruled by the dark force of her sexuality again. Her attempt to pull away was thwarted by strong arms pulling her closer.

  "Aren't you?" His mouth found a sensitive spot by her ear, wreaking havoc. "Shall I remind you?"

  Her incipient struggle was dashed as his lips found hers with a seeking force she was unable to deny.

  Passion flowered after its long, bleak winter.

  So lost was she in sensation, she floated weightless, onto that pristine white coverlet.

  "We mustn't?" She strived for sanity in a world rendered asunder.

  "I must," he rasped, lifting her hand to his neck. "Touch me before I die from wanting."

  His deep agonized tremor found its echo in her heart.

  In helpless surrender, her hands caressed his neck, sliding into his hair, moulding its contours.

  He kissed her with such ravenous hunger she was lost to reason as he reawakened the sensuality of her deepest nature.

  Her hands moved to the rippling muscles of his back, craving to be reacquainted with every familiar, remembered inch of his hard, muscular body.

  His hands were just as seeking.

  He groaned as she pulled up his shirt and feathered her fingers over his back. His arms tightened, pulling her even closer. With a husky groan he gripped one of her hands, pulled it down, and covered his engorged masculinity through the fabric of his trousers.

  "Purr, little Cat," he whispered, kissing her neck, her cheeks, her eyes and then her mouth.

  "Daddy? Kate? Where are you?"

  The shocking sound jerked them back to awareness of where they were.

  In seconds, she was alone on the bed.

  Alex crossed the room in two strides, his hands tidying his shirt and flattening his hair. He met Sarah before she could come into the room.

  "What is it, possum?" he growled, his voice rough edged with passion.

  "Maria has afternoon tea ready."

  He blocked Sarah from seeing Kate as she sat unmoving on the bed. "That's great. We'll go on down. Kate wants to use the bathroom."

  For several minutes Kate sat there, hugging herself as she tried to control the tremors of denial wracking her.

  How could Alex regain control so effortles
sly?

  Kate moved off the bed and straightened the covers.