reacted to that explicit glint. ‘No, it’s fine. Rosie’s in there reading; she’ll probably fall asleep.’
He just looked at her. After a moment he shrugged minutely and went back to his work. Kate reclined her chair and curled up, facing the other way.
Eventually the tension left her body. She was relieved that since that kiss in his study he’d been the personification of cool, polite distance. For all the world as if she were nothing more than a family friend joining them for a holiday. She would have been scared off if he’d been any other way: triumphant or gloating. But Kate didn’t doubt that Tiarnan was a master in the handling of women, and even though that realisation hit her in the solar plexus she was too exhausted after a couple of sleepless nights to feel enraged.
When Kate’s body had stopped moving, and it was obvious she was asleep, Tiarnan put down his paperwork and looked over. A tight coil of tension seemed to start in his feet and go all the way to his head. He allowed his eyes to rove over her form, taking in the deliciously round provocation of her bottom as it stuck out, straight at him, encased in linen trousers through which he could see the faint outline of her pants. Her legs were curled up, shoes off. Golden hair billowed out across the cushion and her head was tucked down into her chest. He got up silently and took down a blanket from overhead, spread it out over her body. In profile her face was relaxed, with none of that wakeful watchfulness that she seemed to subject him to, her big blue eyes wary.
He’d had to fight to control himself since he’d kissed her in his study. He’d expected to feel a certain level of disappointment in her acquiescence, which was such a contradiction when all he’d wanted was for her to say yes. And yet she hadn’t been coquettish, she hadn’t been calculating. When she’d stood in front of him in his study, strangely defiant, she’d had faint bruises of colour under her eyes, and if anything he might have guessed that she’d spent a sleepless night.
He stood straight and looked down at her. A surge of possessiveness gripped him. None of that mattered now. What mattered was that she was here, and very soon he would be discovering all the secrets of that luscious body. He turned abruptly before he did something stupid, like kiss her while she slept, and went to check on Rosie.
Kate woke to the sound of heated voices. Rosie and Tiarnan. She sat up and felt thoroughly dishevelled. She pushed her hair back from her face as she heard Tiarnan’s voice emerge from the bedroom at the back.
‘Rosalie Quinn, I will not continue this discussion until you can talk to me in a civil manner.’
Kate looked around, and her eyes widened as she saw Tiarnan standing in the doorway with hands on hips, obviously facing Rosie. And then she heard a tearful, ‘Go away! I hate you, Tiarnan. Why should I listen to you when you’re not even my real dad?’
And then a paroxysm of crying started. The door slammed in Tiarnan’s face. He sighed deeply and jiggled the knob.
‘Rosie, come on …’
Then, as if he could feel her eyes on him, he looked around and saw Kate. He ran a hand through his hair and walked up the cabin towards her, dwarfing everything around him as he did so.
‘I’m sorry—we woke you.’
Kate just shook her head. ‘It’s fine …’is everything OK?’ Patently it wasn’t.
Tiarnan sat in his seat, tipped his had back for a moment. ‘Not really, no.’
He looked at her then, and Kate felt speared by the intensity of his eyes and the pain she could see in the blue depths.
‘I should be honest with you, Kate. Rosie—well, it’s a little more complicated than just moving schools—’
Just then the captain’s voice interrupted, to announce that they were approaching New York and to get ready for landing. Kate had no idea she’d slept that long.
After the steward had come to make sure they were all awake, Kate said softly, ‘Do you want me to go and—?’
Tiarnan shook his head. ‘No, I’ll get her. It’s not your problem, Kate, and I’m sorry you had to hear anything. I’ll explain later.’
After a few minutes a white-faced and obviously upset Rosie came out with Tiarnan and strapped herself into her seat.
As they landed and went through the formalities to change planes, Kate did her best to be upbeat and chirpy, to try and take Rosie’s mind off whatever tension was between her and her father. She’d said that Tiarnan wasn’t her real dad. Kate had no clue what that could be about. Sorcha had never mentioned anything.
By the time they’d boarded a smaller yet equally luxurious plane for Martinique, Rosie was obviously wrung out, and after picking at a meal she let Kate put her to bed in a small cabin in the back. Kate stayed with her till she fell asleep, feeling a very inappropriate level of maternal concern.
When she emerged to take her seat again Tiarnan asked, ‘Do you want a drink?’
Kate shook her head, and then changed her mind abruptly, ‘Actually, a small Baileys might be nice.’
Within seconds it was being offered to her by the steward on a tray. Once they were alone again, she could feel Tiarnan looking at her.
She turned to face him, and finally he said, ‘I’ve decided to go to Martinique now with Rosie not only because of the school closing but also because we both need a break, and our house there is her favourite place in the world. It always has been. It’s where she gets all the maternal love and affection I can’t give her.’
Or her mother, evidently, Kate thought to herself. But she said nothing. Tiarnan was looking into his glass, swirling the liquid. Outside the window beside him the sky was a clear blue, strewn with white ribbons of clouds.
He looked at her and smiled a small smile. ‘Mama Lucille and Papa Joe are like grandparents to Rosie. They’ve been the caretakers of my house since before I owned it, and they have five children and dozens of grandkids—all around Rosie’s age. When we go there Rosie can disappear for days and I know she’s fine. She turns into something almost feral with all her adopted family … I’m hoping that perhaps—’
He stopped, and the word adopted struck her. Kate asked quietly, ‘What did she mean about you not being her real dad?’
He looked at her, and something intensely bleak crossed his face for a second before it was gone, making Kate think she’d imagined it.
‘I’m not.’
Kate shook her head, frowning. ‘But you are. I mean—’
He shook his head and downed his drink. His jaw clenched. ‘No, I’m not. I believed I was until a couple of years ago. And I’d probably have never found out if Rosie hadn’t got ill and had to have some blood tests done.’
He glanced at Kate. ‘It was nothing serious, but we found out that her blood type didn’t match mine. That isn’t unusual in itself, but other tests were done and, to cut a long story short, I found out that Rosie is not my biological daughter.’
Kate just shook her head, frowning. ‘But if you’re not, then—’
‘Who is?’ He laughed sharply. ‘Take your pick. It could be any one of the three or four men that Stella slept with around the time we split up.’
‘Oh, Tiarnan, I’m sorry.’
His mouth was a grim line. ‘The others weren’t as wealthy or well set-up as me, so when Stella found out she was pregnant she decided to make me the father. A gamble that paid off. She had all the evidence, doctor’s notes, and the dates seemed to match up. And I, who’d never wanted to find myself in that predicament, suddenly discovered a hitherto unknown paternal instinct, a sense of moral responsibility to do the right thing, so I proposed to Stella.’
Kate felt as if a stake were being driven into her heart. She tried to keep her face as bland as possible, not to allow that pain to surface—the pain she’d felt as a vulnerable