Mistresses: Bound with Gold / Bought with Emeralds. Sandra Marton
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Joshua’s eyes narrowed, exactly as his son’s had a few moments earlier. She must have been blind not to have seen it before!
‘I thought you said that you and Ryan had talked?’
‘Yes, but not about you!’ He had been the single subject she had been desperate to avoid.
An unholy amusement filtered across his face as enlightenment dawned. ‘Let me guess…you didn’t realise who he was because you never got around to exchanging surnames? Seems to be a habit of yours…’
Regan seethed as he picked up his cup of black coffee and took a leisurely sip.
‘You mean it’s just what happened when you and Regan met the first time?’ chuckled Hazel, who had been following the conversation with lively interest. ‘A case of like father, like son!’
Flustered violet eyes clashed with thunderstruck grey as they shared a moment of mutual consternation. Visions of their torrid sexual encounter danced between them.
‘God, I hope not,’ muttered Joshua fervently, and Regan knew that she was going to blush as Ryan sat up in his chair, his precocious antennae twitching at the silent interaction. She quickly cast around for an innocuous change of subject.
‘So…where’s Chris this morning?’ she asked.
Bad choice. Hazel’s eyes lowered as she thoughtfully stirred a lump of sugar into her tea and Sir Frank stared out of the window and made a gruff remark on the blustery day.
‘Still sleeping off last night,’ said Joshua. ‘Why? Were you hoping to see him?’
‘No—oh, no…I just wondered, that’s all.’ In her haste to disassociate herself from the question she allowed Alice to persuade her to a salmon cake she didn’t really want. ‘If he’s a doctor I suppose he must work very hard…’ She trailed off, seeing that she had only compounded her error as Joshua’s expression hardened.
‘Works hard and plays hard. He’s not sleeping because he’s tired; he’s sleeping because he behaved like a total idiot.’
‘Uncle Chris fell into the canal coming home last night,’ supplied Ryan. At least her diversion had worked on one level. ‘I saw him from my window, splashing and yelling. Dad told him to stop whining for help, that he had two choices: sink or swim. So he swam to the boardwalk and Dad hauled him out.’
‘Goodness!’ Hazel covered her mouth, and Regan couldn’t decide whether she was concealing a gasp of horror or a smile.
‘Serves the young fool right!’ pronounced Sir Frank.
‘But he could have drowned!’ Regan thought she was the only one showing any compassion. ‘Particularly in his state.’
‘You mean drunk,’ said Joshua.
‘Why didn’t you help him straight away?’ Regan chastised, her eyes flashing. ‘Instead of standing there taunting him.’
‘Because I believe in tough love,’ he said laconically. ‘He’d got himself into a jam and there was no reason he shouldn’t at least try to get himself out of it. Besides…I didn’t want to risk ruining my clothes,’ he drawled with a baiting smile. ‘I was wearing some recently acquired items of great sentimental value.’
‘It was OK, really—Uncle Chris used to be a champion swimmer at his school,’ offered Ryan, torn between his natural loyalty and the delightful novelty of seeing his father being sternly lectured on behaviour by a slip of a woman. ‘And Dad did throw him a lifebelt from the dock.’
‘How kind of you,’ Regan bit out at the mocking face across the table, fuming over the veiled reference to his cufflinks. Whatever sentiments he attached to them, she knew they wouldn’t be the tender ones that he was implying!
‘I was aiming for his head,’ he said succinctly, and suddenly she couldn’t help the quiver of a smile escaping her control. She chewed it off her lips, totally bewildered by her reaction. How could he make her feel like laughing when she was so angry with him?
‘I wonder what’s keeping Carolyn? She did know you were coming, didn’t she, Joshua?’ interrupted Hazel, squinting at the exquisite diamond watch whose face was a trifle too dainty for her aging eyes.
‘I don’t think I specified an exact time. I know she was planning on going yachting with the Watsons this afternoon, but I’m afraid some work has come up…’
‘On a Saturday?’
‘Money never sleeps, Hazel,’ Sir Frank trotted out. ‘Wade can’t afford to be out of touch with what the market’s doing. You can use the library again if you need it, Joshua.’
‘Thanks, but I have everything back on-line at the condo again—thanks to Ryan’s genius for electronics. If I get time I might even call in and see how things are going in the sales office.’
Hazel was looking unimpressed. ‘Oh, dear, Carolyn will be disappointed.’
‘Maybe she’ll change her mind about going sailing once she sees how windy it is,’ said Regan. She would have thought that the last thing anyone suffering from the nausea of early pregnancy would enjoy would be a ride on a rocking boat. How far along was she? Three months? Four? Obviously not long enough for her body to have stabilised to the added flow of hormones raging through her increased volume of blood.
‘No, she won’t—the girl loves a good blow! Got a great pair of sea legs,’ beamed Sir Frank.
‘I wonder if I ought to go and wake her?’ Hazel was pondering dubiously. She had quietly divulged to Regan over last evening’s sherry that Carolyn had been unpredictable in her moods of late, and extremely touchy about her privacy. From which Regan had deduced that she was disappointed that her daughter’s daughter, whom she had brought up from babyhood after her parents were killed in a plane crash, was not co-operating wholeheartedly on the home front.
‘I suppose it’s all part of her growing up and preparing to move out into her own separate life, but it makes it a bit difficult when I’m trying to work out what she wants for the wedding,’ she had admitted. ‘She’s so inconsistent—one minute she’s madly enthusiastic; the next minute she’s yawning with boredom. One day she seems happy; the next everything’s a tragedy. Perhaps it’ll be good for her to have another young woman in the house who can relate to something of what she’s going through…’
‘Would you like me to nip up and see if she’s up and about—and let her know that Joshua’s here?’ asked Regan now.
‘Not if you haven’t finished your own breakfast, dear,’ demurred Hazel.
‘But I have.’ She smiled, pushing back from the table and trying not to look too eager to escape. ‘I don’t usually have a great appetite in the mornings—’
‘You save it all up for the evenings?’ murmured Joshua, rising to his feet in unison with his son as she stood up. Whatever else kind of father he was, he had made the effort to teach his offspring old-fashioned