believed, six years ago, was capable of the emotion.
A man she had been totally in love with for those six years.
‘FALKNER, exactly why are you doing this?’ Skye asked wearily.
She had taken one look in the mirror when she’d entered the bathroom earlier, and groaned with dismay at her appearance; it was worse than she had thought.
Her hair stuck up in greasy spikes, there was a huge bruise down the left side of her face where she had been thrown against the car door—also the reason for her concussion—her black eye had turned to all the colours of the rainbow but predominantly a sickly yellow, her face otherwise deathly pale. She had also lost weight, she discovered when she pulled on denims and a black tee shirt, the clothes much looser on her than they had been a week ago.
One thing she was sure of: Falkner wasn’t being kind to her because he was overwhelmed by her beauty.
He glanced at her only briefly as she sat beside him in the green Range Rover, Skye having tactfully turned away minutes ago as he’d levered himself awkwardly behind the wheel. ‘Would you have preferred it if I had left you to face those reporters on your own?’ he rasped grimly.
Despite his precaution of taking her out of the hospital through a staff entrance, a couple of enterprising reporters had pre-empted them, Falkner’s hand tightly gripping Skye’s arm as he’d pushed his way forcefully by them to see her safely seated in his car before, his mouth a grimly set line, he’d moved round the vehicle to get in beside her, answering none of the questions fired at them.
‘No,’ she sighed, exhausted by the events of the morning, her ribs aching painfully from this unaccustomed activity. ‘But—’
‘I told you, Connor was my friend,’ Falkner bit out abruptly. ‘He would want me to take care of you.’
Before the suspicion and gossip of the last six months, her father had appeared to have many friends, but most of them had quietly faded away the last few months, almost as if they believed the rumour and speculation that now surrounded Connor’s professional reputation might be catching.
Although Falkner didn’t seem to be bothered by the same possibility.
Of course she had known of her father’s continuing friendship with the younger man; he occasionally talked of having seen or spoken to Falkner. Conversations that Skye had listened to avidly while at the same time maintaining an outward indifference, desperate that no one, least of all her father, should realize how deeply and irrevocably she had fallen in love with Falkner six years ago.
But even so, she wouldn’t have thought, based on the things her father had said about the other man, that their friendship had been such that Falkner would now feel a responsibility to come to the aid of Connor’s daughter.
But what other reason could he possibly have for being here…?
‘Skye, Connor was there for me after the accident three years ago,’ Falkner rasped. ‘And again two years ago,’ he added reluctantly.
Two years ago? What had happened two years…Ah.
She had read in the newspapers of Falkner’s marriage five years ago, followed by his even more publicized separation after the accident, and the messy divorce that had followed a year later.
‘Connor spent a lot of his valuable time two years ago talking to me, helping me come to terms with—things,’ Falkner continued harshly.
And this was obviously Falkner’s way of returning the older man’s generosity.
Well, at least he was honest, Skye accepted ruefully. Even if it might have been more comforting, if unlikely, if his concern had been a little more personally directed.
She sighed, turning to look uninterestedly out at the passing countryside, recognizing some of it, aware that they would shortly be arriving at Falkner’s home.
There was one positive thing to look forward to, at least: his wife wouldn’t be there waiting to welcome her—or otherwise.
She had wondered, five years ago, what the woman was like when Falkner had married, the photograph of the two of them that had appeared in the newspapers at the time of their marriage not only grainy, making their features indistinct, but also in black and white.
Whatever Selina Harrington’s personality and looks, the marriage had only lasted a rocky two years, Selina leaving Falkner shortly after his accident, divorcing him a year later amid claims of his involvement with another woman.
There was a thought. Maybe the ‘other woman’ would be at the Falkner home waiting to welcome her, instead.
Skye shifted uncomfortably in the cream leather seat. ‘Er—I really don’t want to put you or—or anyone else—’ she chewed worriedly on her bottom lip ‘—to any inconvenience, by turning up at your house in this way.’
‘You won’t be,’ Falkner told her with assured dismissal.
Not exactly a helpful reply; she already knew Falkner well enough to realize he was arrogant enough to expect that other people’s reactions to his unexpected guest would be reflective of his own.
Whereas Skye had learnt only too well the last few months just how hurtful a cold rebuff could be. Goodness knew, there had been enough of them recently.
She drew in a deep breath. ‘Falkner, what—?’
‘Let’s just get through the rest of this week, hmm?’ he prompted abruptly. ‘There will be plenty of time to—talk, later, okay?’
The rest of this week…
Her father’s funeral.
Incredible.
Unbelievable.
When she still had the feeling he was going to walk through the door demanding a mug of the strong coffee that had kept him going through their long working day, or that she was going to turn a corner and he would be there waiting for her, as big and protective as he had always been, giving that big booming laugh that told her everything was right with the world.
What was she going to do without him?
The two of them had always been so close, more so since there had really only ever been the two of them. Skye couldn’t imagine her life without him in it. Didn’t want to imagine a life without him!
She was suddenly overwhelmed by such a feeling of despair that she wasn’t even aware of Falkner’s sharp glance in her direction, or the fact that he pulled the car over into a lay-by, turning off the engine before releasing his seat belt and turning to take her into his arms.
It was the warmth of those arms, being cradled against the solid hardness of a human chest, that was Skye’s complete undoing. The sob caught at the back of her throat, choking her, her body racked by those sobs as she gave into her feelings of complete desolation.
‘It’s all right, Skye,’ Falkner murmured, his hands moving comfortingly up and down her spine as he held her close against him. ‘I’m here. I’ll be here for as long as you need me. Skye, don’t…’he groaned with aching concern as his words only made her cry all the harder.
Seconds ago she had been overwhelmed by feelings of loneliness, emptiness, but as Falkner’s words penetrated the pain that consumed her, the warmth of his arms protecting her, she knew she wasn’t completely alone, that he meant what he said: he would be there for her for as long as she needed him.
But with that realization came the knowledge of the danger that awaited her there, a danger she had no idea, at this moment when she needed him so much, how to cope with; it would be all too easy to just let Falkner take over, to stay with him and never leave. And, loving him as she did, she knew she couldn’t do that.
She pulled back slightly,