Liam's Secret Son

She gave a humourless smile. ‘I did try to warn you that this was a mistake, Liam,’ she said. ‘We have nothing in common now—if we ever did. Old friends meeting in this way—’

‘Old lovers!’ he corrected harshly, blue eyes alight with emotion. ‘Don’t try to totally negate our past together, Laura.’

She felt frozen to the spot, actually able to feel the colour drain from her cheeks. Negate their past? She would like to wipe it from her memory bank altogether!

Lovers… Yes, they had been lovers. But she had been determined, these last eight years, never to think of that again. She didn’t want to think about it!

‘Please sit down, Laura,’ Liam encouraged quietly. ‘I promise I’ll try not to be insulting again.’

‘You’ll try, Liam?’ she repeated dryly, giving a shake of her head at his arrogance. ‘You’ll have to do better than that if you expect me to stay!’

He gave a rueful smile. ‘You have to accept sometimes I can be insulting without meaning to be.’

Laura gave a pained wince. ‘And that’s the best excuse you can give for some of the things you’ve already said to me?’

‘Without actually lying—yes!’

She sat down abruptly. ‘You really are the most arrogant man I’ve ever had the misfortune to meet!’

He grinned, leaning forward to replenish their champagne glasses. ‘Well, at least I have that distinction—the most arrogant man you’ve ever met.’

‘Arrogance is not a virtue, Liam.’

‘I’ll try to remember that,’ he said wryly. ‘Now, let’s drink a toast…’ He held her full glass of champagne out to her before picking up his own glass.

He had hinted on the telephone that he had something to celebrate, and Laura had wondered if he might mean the prospect of publication for his new book. If it should turn out that was what it was, what was she going to do? To carry on pleading ignorance would be deceptive in the extreme. But to tell him the truth, after his bluntness already this evening, would be even more unacceptable…

She swallowed hard. ‘A toast to what?’

‘Old lovers and new friends?’ he suggested.

She gave the ghost of a smile, relieved the toast hadn’t been what she had expected—although the alternative hadn’t been much better! ‘The first I choose to forget—the second isn’t very likely,’ she told him honestly.

‘Let’s drink to us anyway,’ he encouraged huskily.

‘To ‘us’…?

‘Did you tell him about us?’ Liam asked slowly, once the toast had been drunk.

She stiffened. ‘Robert, you mean?’ she said delaying.

‘Of course I mean Robert,’ he confirmed laughingly. ‘Unless you’ve had any other husbands the last eight years? Just out of interest,’ he continued lightly, ‘how long ago did you marry him?’

‘Robert and I were married seven and a half years ago,’ she answered flatly.

‘No time for any other husbands.’ Liam answered his own question. ‘And only a few months after I left for California,’ he added pointedly.

‘Nowhere near as hasty as your own marriage,’ Laura returned harshly. ‘You had barely arrived on the tarmac at Los Angeles airport before your own engagement, and subsequent marriage took place!’

She could still remember her feelings of absolute desolation when she had seen the speculation in the newspapers concerning his relationship with Diana Porter. That desolation had been complete when the photographs of his wedding had appeared a few weeks later. If it hadn’t been for Robert—

‘It looks as if neither of us were too heartbroken at our separation,’ Liam acknowledged. ‘I suppose your beloved uncle approves of Robert too?’

Laura’s movements were deliberate and calm as she placed her champagne glass back down on the low table in front of her. They had to be; her hand was shaking so much she was in danger of spilling the bubbly wine.

Her parents had been killed in a car crash when she was only sixteen, leaving her without any close family to speak of. It had been left to her godfather, her honorary ‘uncle’ and guardian, also the executor of her parents’ will, to organise the continued payment of her boarding-school fees, so enabling her to stay on at school and sit her ‘A’ levels before going on to university.

Obviously when she’d met Liam, eight and a half a years ago she had told him about her beloved godfather in the course of their own relationship. But the two men had never met.

Obviously her godfather had expressed curiosity about this worldly-wise man in her life, and she had suggested to Liam several times that perhaps the two men should meet. It had been a suggestion he had chosen to ignore.

And the reason for his reticence had become obvious once he had gone to America and married someone else within a few months: the complication of meeting the guardian of the young student whom he had only been casually involved with for six months previously had not entered into any of his plans! That would have made everything just a little too serious—and Liam hadn’t ever had any serious intentions where Laura was concerned!

She looked at him coldly now. ‘I don’t happen to think of any of this—any part of my life now, in fact—is your business, Liam,’ she told him icily. ‘Just as I have no interest in your personal life now,’ she concluded contemptuously.

Liam looked completely unperturbed by her coldness. ‘How about my professional one?’ he teased. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know what—?’

‘No!’ she sharply cut him off before he could say something that might put her in a compromising position. Telling her that Shipley Publishing was interested in publishing his latest novel would certainly do that! ‘No, Liam, I don’t want to know anything about your professional life either.’ She spoke more calmly. ‘In fact—’ she gave a glance at her wristwatch ‘—I really should be going now.’

‘Cinderella turns into a pumpkin at the stroke of eleven?’ Liam suggested.

She smiled, shaking her head. ‘You obviously don’t know your fairy-tales very well, Liam. Cinderella turned back into a ragged drudge. But not until midnight.’

He shrugged. ‘Put my ignorance down to my deprived childhood. My mother didn’t have the time to read me fairy-tales; she was too busy going out to work to keep my three sisters and myself after my father died.’

He made the remark without any show of bitterness in his tone, and yet Laura knew that it couldn’t have been easy for the four children, nor their mother. Their father had been killed when Liam, the eldest child, was only seven. She couldn’t imagine how Mary O’Reilly had managed during those years at all. The fact that Liam had become a successful writer by the time he was in his mid-twenties had helped all his family financially. But it couldn’t take away the struggle of the children’s early years.

But she didn’t want to think about the hardships of Liam’s fatherless childhood. The last thing she wanted was to see Liam in any sort of vulnerable light!

‘Are your mother and sisters all well?’ she felt compelled to enquire politely.

He smiled at the thought of his family. ‘Very much so. Mama lives very comfortably in a lovely cottage on the west coast of Ireland, and all three of my sisters are happily married with children of their own. Fourteen between them, at the last count.’

Laura smiled. ‘Your mother must love that.’

He grimaced. ‘My mother won’t be completely happy until I’ve provided her with a male grandchild to carry on the family name.’

Laura raised dark brows. ‘Surely there must be lots of O’Reillys in Ireland?’

‘To be sure there are,’ Liam answered with a deliberate Irish lilt to his voice. ‘But there aren’t any other male members of this particular O’Reilly branch,’ he explained ruefully.

‘So that puts the onus on you?’ she responded. ‘And is a little O’Reilly, male or female, a future possibility?’

‘Not this side of the next millennium!’ he bit out harshly.

‘Your poor mother!’ Laura rebuked, standing up in preparation for leaving. ‘Thank you for the champagne, Liam; I enjoyed it.’

‘If not the company, hmm?’ He stood up too, standing only inches away from her.

Laura wished he weren’t standing quite so close. She could smell the faint elusiveness of his aftershave, feel the heat that emanated from his body. But she didn’t want to be aware of him in any way.

‘The company was fine too,’ she said firmly. ‘Enjoy the rest of your stay in London, Liam. Perhaps the two of us will meet up accidentally again one day—in another eight years or so!’ She turned to leave.

‘I’ll walk as far as the door with you.’ Liam had moved to lightly grasp her elbow as he walked confidently beside her. ‘It’s the least I can do as I can’t actually see you home,’ he elaborated at her startled glance.

Laura didn’t even qualify the remark with a reply. She just wanted to get away from there, as far away from Liam as quickly as possible. If that meant suffering a few more minutes of his company, then so be it!

‘This is farther than the door,’ she observed, looking up pointedly at the awning over their heads as they stood outside the entrance to the hotel.

‘I didn’t think you would be too happy about my doing this actually inside the hotel,’ Liam murmured, before his head bent and his mouth claimed hers.

The kiss was so unexpected that for a moment Laura was totally stunned. But as she felt the heated waves of compliance sweeping over her, felt her body remembering the physical joy of this man even if she chose not to, she knew she had to break away. Now!

She wrenched her mouth away from Liam’s, pushing at his arms as they curved about her waist. ‘That was completely uncalled-for!’ she gasped as she at last managed to escape those steely bands, her breathing erratic in her agitation, a flush to her cheeks as she glared at him.

‘But necessary,’ Liam rasped. ‘For me.’ He gave a rueful shake of his head. ‘I know you’re a married woman, and I apologise because of that. But—you can tell him from me he’s a lucky man.’

Her blue and green eyes flashed. ‘I intend forgetting any of—this, the moment I enter the taxi,’ she told him forcefully. ‘You’re even more despicable than I remember!’

He looked unconcerned. ‘Sticks and stones,’ he replied.

She would have liked to do more than break a few bones—she felt like hitting him over the head with something heavy and painful!

She hadn’t lost her temper like this in eight years. If ever! Only hours into meeting Liam again and she was a mass of seething emotions. All of which she could quite happily do without.

‘One day, Liam,’ she ground out between gritted teeth, ‘you’re going to come up against someone—a situation—you have no control over. Let me know when that day comes—I would like to sit and watch!’

He quirked dark brows. ‘You never used to be vindictive, Laura.’

There were so many things she had never used to be. She couldn’t even think back now, to the light-hearted, carefree young girl she had once been, without feeling a deep sorrow for the fact that she was no more. She had grown up eight years ago—overnight, it seemed—never to return.

‘I’m not vindictive now, either. Just a little jaded. Now I really must be going,’ she said briskly. ‘It’s late, and some of us have to go to work in the morning.’

Liam accompanied her to the taxi, holding the back door open for her. ‘What work do you do?’ he asked interestedly.

Laura looked up at him for several moments. It was on the tip of her tongue to tell him she owned and ran the Shipley Publishing house. But she knew she would be doing it for the wrong reasons, that a part of her—the part of her that was still angry at the way he had kissed her—just wanted to see the look of stunned disbelief on his face when she told him!

‘I’m a book editor,’ she told him economically, still clinging on to the truth as far as she dared without revealing everything. After all, it was true that she read all manuscripts due for publication by Shipley Publishing. She would be doing less than her job if she weren’t completely aware of what her own company was presenting to the public.

‘Really?’ Liam looked impressed. ‘What—?’

‘It’s been—interesting, Liam,’ she cut in dismissively. ‘But I really do have to—’

‘I want to see you again, Laura,’ he told her grimly.

‘Impossible,’ she told him firmly. ‘Goodnight,’ she added abruptly, before pulling the door shut in his face and leaning forward to give the driver her address as he accelerated the taxi away from the hotel.

She didn’t look back. Even though a part of her knew that Liam still stood on the pavement watching the car, and her, until they turned out of sight down a side road.

Which was when Laura finally felt able to sit back in her seat and let some of the tension flow out of her.

She had known it wasn’t a good idea to meet up with Liam again—had only given in because at the time she had felt it was preferable to having him seek her out. But the fact of the matter was that at some time in the near future Liam would have to know exactly who and what she was. And after spending the last hour in his company she wished she had simply waited for that to happen.

Anything would have been preferable to the last hour. To that kiss…!

She tentatively ran the tip of her tongue over the sensitivity of her lips, still able to feel the pressure of Liam’s mouth there, a slight tingling sensation that seemed almost to numb her lips.

How could he still affect her in that way? After all that had happened, all the pain, the disillusionment, how could she still feel this way?

What way did she feel?

Confused. Disorientated. Angry with herself. Angry with Liam. All of which was completely unproductive, when she needed to be focused, controlled, sure of herself.

The next time she saw Liam, she promised herself as she saw her journey was almost at an end, she would be exactly that!

The lights were on in the house when she let herself in a few minutes later and went straight to the kitchen, where she knew Amy Faulkner, her housekeeper, would be sitting drinking tea and watching television while she waited for Laura to return home.

Short, plump and homely, aged in her mid-fifties, Amy had been Robert’s housekeeper for almost twenty years when he and Laura were married. The older woman had welcomed Laura into the house as if she were the daughter she’d never had, and the two of them had got on from the beginning. Laura had been more than grateful for the other woman’s presence this last couple of years.

The housekeeper smiled at her warmly now as she stood up to turn down the sound on the predicted television programme. ‘Had a good evening, Mrs Shipley?’

Good? That wasn’t quite the way Laura would have chosen to describe it!

‘It was just business, Amy,’ she responded. ‘How’s everything been here?’

The older woman smiled. ‘Wonderful. He’s been fast asleep since before you went out. Not a sound out of him.’

Laura nodded distractedly. ‘I think I’ll just pop upstairs and check on him before going to bed myself. Thanks for taking over at such short notice this evening, Amy.’ She smiled her gratitude.

‘Any time, Laura. You know that,’ the other woman told her gently. ‘I know it can’t be easy for you. And he’s absolutely fine with me, you know.’

‘I do know.’ She squeezed Amy’s arm gratefully. ‘But thank you anyway.’

She made sure she was as quiet as possible going up the stairs, not wanting to wake him, moving with sure steps to the bedroom that adjoined her own.

A nightlight gave a warm glow to the room, allowing Laura to find her way without bumping into or stepping on anything to the rocking-chair that stood beside the bed.

She sat down in the rocking-chair, tears of love welling up in her eyes as she looked down at the sleeping figure in the bed.

Only his head and shoulders were actually visible above the bedcovers, the shoulders narrow, the mouth slightly open in sleep. Dark lashes fanned out over cheeks that glowed pale in the half-light, the hair dark and softly curling against the pillow.

Robert Shipley.

Junior, she inwardly added warmly. He always insisted on the ‘Junior.’

But to all who loved him he was Bobby.

Seven years old. Black-haired. Blue-eyed. Mischievous. With a bright enquiring mind.

He was the absolute love of Laura’s life…

He was also the reason that her private life had to be kept strictly that, where Liam O’Reilly was concerned.

Because Mary O’Reilly, Liam’s mother, although in complete ignorance of the fact, already had her much-wanted grandson.

Except his name wasn’t O’Reilly. And it never would be.

Even though Bobby was undoubtedly Liam O’Reilly’s son…

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