number. Text me your address and I’ll have my driver collect you.’
There was a pulse of silence. She disliked the feeling of being treated like some kind of special delivery parcel, but no doubt this was just how his life worked, and refusing seemed childish given what was really at stake.
‘Fine—but right now I need you to go. The exhibition will be closing in ten minutes and I want to get Sóley home,’ she said, watching with relief as Georgina sped across the gallery to intercept her mother and her brother. ‘So if you don’t mind—?’
His gaze shifted to her face. ‘Of course.’ He gave her a smile that barely curved his mouth. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’
Gently he released his grip from Sóley’s hand. For a moment he hesitated, his eyes locking with his daughter’s, and then he turned and strode towards the door. She watched, her heart in her mouth, as he skirted past her mother and Lucas.
‘Sorry we’re late!’ Her mother ran her hand theatrically through her long dark hair. ‘We bumped into Chris and your brother insisted on buying him a drink—’
‘I felt awkward.’ Lucas shook his head. ‘The poor guy practically lost his mind when you dumped him.’
‘But never mind about him.’
Lottie winced as her mother grabbed her and kissed her on the cheek.
‘Who was that?’ Pivoting round, Izzy gazed after Ragnar with narrowing eyes.
Lottie shrugged. ‘He was just passing,’ she said quickly.
Lucas frowned. ‘I feel like I’ve seen him before…’
‘Unlikely,’ Lottie said crisply. ‘I don’t think you move in the same circles—and don’t try and distract me.’ She raised an eyebrow accusingly. ‘You were supposed to be here an hour ago. But now that you are here, do you think you could take Sóley for me?’
She watched with relief as Lucas reached out and scooped Sóley into his arms. It wasn’t quite as terrifying as the thought of Ragnar meeting her family, but her brother making any kind of connection was something she didn’t need. He might just put two and two together and come up with four—and then she would have to lie to his face or, worse, admit the truth to their mother.
There was no way she was getting into all that in public. She’d already over-complicated everything enough by letting a cool-eyed stranger into her life.
But if Ragnar thought her hasty acquiescence to his demands meant that he could set the boundaries for his relationship with their daughter he was wrong—as he was going to find out tomorrow.
Were they her family?
Mounting the steps from the gallery two at a time, Ragnar felt the onset of a familiar unease—that same feeling of being sucked towards a vortex that usually went hand in hand with spending time with his own family.
The scruffy-looking man with Day-of-the-Dead skulls tattooed on his neck and the dark-haired woman wearing an eye-catching red faux-fur coat must be Lottie’s brother and mother—and the thought was not exactly reassuring. He knew from dealing with his own family that eccentricities might appear charming to an outsider but usually they went hand in hand with a tendency for self-indulgence and melodrama that was exhausting and time-consuming.
But at least with one’s own family you knew what to expect.
Remembering his daughter’s hand gripping his thumb, he felt his jaw tighten. Had he been in any way uncertain as to whether he had a role to play in Sóley’s life that doubt had instantly and completely vanished as her hand gripped his. Children needed stability and support from the adults in their lives, not drama, and it wasn’t hard to imagine exactly what kind of circus those two could create.
No wonder Lottie had been so desperate for him to leave. The sooner he got this matter in hand the better.
Yanking open the door to his car, he threw himself into the back seat. ‘Take me home, John,’ he said curtly.
Home. He almost laughed out loud. What did he know about the concept of home? He’d lived in many houses in numerous countries, with various combinations of parents and step-parents. And now that his wealth had become something managed by other people he owned properties around the globe. Truthfully, though, despite their scale and glossy interiors, none was somewhere he felt relief when he walked through the front door.
No, there was only one place he’d ever considered home, and ironically the person who owned it was not related to him by either blood or marriage.
But he would make certain his child had the home he’d been denied.
The next morning Ragnar woke early.
It was still dark when he got up, but he knew from experience that he wouldn’t get back to sleep. He dressed and made his way downstairs to the gym, and worked the machines until his body ached.
An hour later, having showered and changed, he lay sprawled on a sofa in one of the living rooms. There were eight in total, but this was the one he preferred. He let out a long, slow breath. Outside it was raining, and through the window all he could see was the dark glimmer of water and the occasional crooked outline of antlers as the red deer moved silently across the lawns.
The deer had come with Lamerton House, the Jacobean mansion and forty-acre estate that he used as a stopover when he was meeting bankers and investors in London. His gaze narrowed. They were less tame than reindeer, but the grazing herd still reminded him of home.
Home—that word again.
He stared irritably out of the window into the darkness. Normally it was a word that just didn’t register in his day-to-day vocabulary, but this was the second time in as many hours that he’d thought it. His refocused his eyes on his reflection—only it wasn’t his face he could see in the glass but his daughter’s, so like his own and already so essential to him.
He might only have discovered her existence forty-eight hours earlier, but his feelings about Sóley were clear. She deserved a home—somewhere safe and stable. Somewhere she could flourish.
His fingers clenched against the back of the sofa. If only his feelings about Lottie were as straightforward. But they weren’t.
At first he’d wanted to blame her for so carelessly unbalancing his life, and then for keeping the truth from him, only how could he? He was as much to blame on both counts. Nor could he blame her for resenting his heavy-handed offer of money. Having managed alone for the best part of two years, of course she’d feel insulted.
But acknowledging his own flaws didn’t absolve hers. She was stubborn and inconsistent and irrational. His mouth thinned. Sadly acknowledging her flaws didn’t change the facts. Being near Lottie made his body swell with blood and his head swim. He had felt it—that same restless, implacable hunger that had overtaken him that night. A hunger he had spent his life condemning in others and was now suppressing in himself…
Six hours later he stood watching the dark blue saloon move smoothly along the driveway towards the house. From the upper floor window he watched as his driver John opened the door. His heart started a drumroll as Lottie slid from the car and, turning, he made his way downstairs.
As he reached the bottom step she turned and gazed up at him.
There was a moment of silence as he took in her appearance. She was wearing jeans and a baggy cream jumper. Her cheeks were flushed and her hair was tied back with what looked like a man’s black shoelace. For no accountable reason he found himself hoping profoundly that the owner of the shoe in question was her brother. Raising his eyes, he turned towards John and dismissed him with a nod, so that his voice wouldn’t give away