Catherine O'Connor

Sweet Lies


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answer—couldn’t answer. She felt trapped, as if he had carefully laid the bait and like a fool she had fallen for it. She could hear her heart thudding painfully against her constricting chest and she dropped her gaze, unable to confront the steel in his eyes.

      ‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said airily, unaware of the huge sigh of relief that silently escaped Megan’s lips. ‘The fact remains that he has a dull complexion and his eyes look heavy-lidded. He looks unwell…’

      Megan’s eyes flew to his, anger flaring in the cool green.

      ‘That’s not a criticism, Megan, merely an observation,’ he countered immediately, seeing her reaction but refusing to acknowledge it fully. He still wanted to make his point, regardless of how she felt about it. ‘I was scrawny myself at that age, but he looks tired and drawn,’ he admitted, which only served to twist the knife deeper into her unhealed heart. ‘To take on all the activities available would be asking for trouble. One needs to build up stamina over a period of time.’

      ‘I see,’ Megan replied, too quickly, though she did agree. She could see that what he was saying made sense but she knew Luke’s stubborn determination—a characteristic from his father, she mused. She was not prepared to ruin her chances of strengthening their relationship by refusing to allow him to do exactly what he wanted. It still hurt more deeply than she wanted to admit that she felt Luke was outgrowing her. Besides, she reassured herself, Luke was stronger than he appeared. Even the doctors had agreed with that, amazed at his quick recovery.

      ‘Do you?’ His voice was cold, cutting into her with icy precision. ‘I doubt that. You’re fit and healthy, busy running a health club, a sick child would hardly be an ideal advertisement.’

      ‘What do you mean by that?’ Megan shot back.

      ‘I think you’ve been either too busy to notice or deliberately blind to the fact…’ he began to explain, his voice cold and detached.

      ‘How dare you?’ stormed Megan, her surprise matched only by her anger at his unfair remarks.

      ‘I dare for this reason, Megan. I have a one hundred percent accident-free record here and I plan on keeping it that way,’ he snarled, gripping her wrist in a painful clasp. ‘I can’t afford parents who refuse to see their own offspring’s limitations, pushing them beyond their capabilities. It’s dangerous and unforgivable.’

      A wave of righteous indignation swept through Megan’s body, heating her blood to boiling point. How dared he make assumptions about her and her relationship with Luke? He had no right, no right at all, she fumed inwardly, and yet knowing he did have some right only annoyed her even more.

      ‘If you’re suggesting that I’m pushing him you couldn’t be more wrong. Luke wants to take part—he’s very keen.’

      ‘Is he? He looks worn out to me. An activity holiday is the last thing he needs. Rest and relaxation would do him more good. For God’s sake, Megan, can’t you see it?’ he protested, fixing his eyes on her like a pair a darts.

      ‘Luke’s OK. He has a slim build but he’s strong,’ Megan countered, resenting his interference.

      ‘You’re blinkered, Megan. You refuse to see your son as he is,’ he growled at her, furious at her obstinacy.

      ‘I don’t think you know Luke well enough to make any comment,’ Megan told him in a glacier tone, the look on her face matching her icy voice.

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Megan,’ he said dismissively, ignoring the expression on her face. ‘Your ambition is blinding you. I’m sorry, but he’s not going to live up to some bizarre ideal you have of him—he just hasn’t your physical strength,’ he told her firmly.

      ‘Well, we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?’ she retorted briskly, confident that Luke would show just how capable he was.

      ‘There’s no way I’m allowing him to over-stretch himself for your benefit. It could be extremely dangerous,’ he told her, his tone brooking no argument and his jaw set firmly.

      ‘Well, we wouldn’t want anything upsetting your precious record, would we?’ she goaded him, pain and frustration twisting her stomach. She paid no heed to the darkening of his eyes or the glitter of anger that flickered there. Like a wounded animal she just wanted to hit out, to hurt him as he was hurting her.

      ‘You know damn well it’s not a case of that…’ he ground out, but his words faded as a shadow fell across the table. His anger evaporated immediately, to be replaced by a brilliant smile.

      ‘Thanks, Luke,’ he said, taking the glass and placing it in front of Megan, who was carefully avoiding his eyes. ‘I think I’d best mix with some other guests,’ Darrow went on, pushing himself away from the table and pausing for a moment, till Megan was forced to look up and confront his grim expression.

      A frown marred Megan’s usual smooth brow. She was annoyed at how smoothly he had managed to change his faimagede and direct his anger only at her.

      ‘I’ll see you later.’ He smiled at both of them, but Megan could see another message clearly in his eyes, that warned her that he was determined to finish their talk.

      ‘We’ll be leaving shortly. We are both tired with the travelling,’ Megan offered as an explanation, determined to go back to the safety of her cosy lodge.

      His grin widened, showing a flash of white predatory teeth that made Megan inwardly wince.

      ‘We have a dinner-date, don’t we?’

      ‘Come on, Mum,’ agreed Luke. ‘It’s our first night. Besides, me and this lad from Manchester are in contest on one of the games and I can’t let him think I’ve run away from the challenge. Can I?’ His eyes danced with devilment and he struggled to control the teasing smile that tugged at his lips. He was obviously aware of the tension between his mother and Darrow and was delighting in it.

      ‘Later, then. You did agree to dinner, didn’t you?’ Darrow smiled. The threat of confrontation was only noticeable to Megan, and she forced herself to nod in agreement while mentally she had already decided she would leave at once.

      She watched him move with ease, carefully gliding from group to group with a naturalness that she envied. She had never recovered from her mother’s criticism—even now it took all her will-power to combat her inner feelings of insecurity and present a confident faimagede. She was determined that her son would never feel the sense of worthlessness she had had to suffer. He was about to face up to adolescence—never an easy time—and to find out now that Darrow was his real father would have terrible repercussions.

      The die was cast. The secret she had kept so long must remain deep within her heart. She had to protect her only son from anything that might make him feel rejected or unloved. Megan knew just how painful that could be.

      Her mind drifted back to her unhappy childhood and the most memorable of the many arguments she had had with her mother.

      ‘He doesn’t care for you,’ her mother had informed her briskly as she sorted through a stack of papers, not even bothering to look at her distressed daughter. ‘He just feels sorry for you. It’s a pity, that’s all,’ she had continued, casting a brief look of disgust at her daughter’s pale, sad face.

      ‘He does care,’ Megan had replied, her voice barely audible and lacking conviction.

      ‘Don’t be so pathetic,’ she had scoffed, tossing the papers to one side and standing up in front of her daughter, ready for battle.

      ‘I’m not—’

      ‘Of course you are. It’s no good looking at me like that; you know I’m right,’ her mother had said confidently, charging on, careless of her daughter’s feelings. ‘I don’t know why you’re so dependent on him. Stand on your own two