Their Wedding Day. Emma Darcy

still be able to stir treacherous feelings in her, but his feelings could only be shallow, a response to present stimulus, nothing deep and lasting.

      “How many years have we led separate lives, Keir?”

      “We’re still the same people, Rowena.”

      The burning conviction in his eyes riled her. “No, we’re not. I’m not,” she stated very deliberately, her conviction rising out of the pain of too many losses. I’m scarred, she wanted to yell at him, but pride held her tongue.

      There was a shift in his expression. A frown. A doubt. “Do you really want Phil back, Rowena? Knowing what you now know about him and Adriana?”

      It stung raw wounds. “He’s my husband. He married me.” When you didn’t. “He’s the father of my children,” she added, then wished she had cut out her tongue before uttering those last words.

      His face tightened. The sudden bleakness in his eyes smote her heart, awakening a painful guilt over the secret she had kept from him. His child…his son. But Keir had forfeited any right to Jamie. Phil was the only father Jamie had known, and Phil had been there for him, good to him. Only now…What should she do now? What if Adriana got her way and Phil didn’t want to be bothered with Jamie any more?

      Keir’s gaze dropped to the table. He stepped over to it and lifted the milk jug. “Do you still have white with one sugar?” he asked without looking up.

      “I don’t want coffee,” she said flatly, wishing he hadn’t remembered how she liked it. The familiarity hurt. Everything hurt. She should go. Why did she feel this heavy reluctance to move? What could be gained by continuing such a disturbing dialogue with Keir?

      He slowly returned the jug to the table, then lifted his gaze directly to hers, his eyes having gathered a piercing intensity. “Do you want me to try to take Adriana away from Phil?”

      That he should even think of making such a move for her stunned Rowena. “You said you didn’t like manipulative people.”