overtures, get met with freezing dislike. My mother and your father were brother and sister. I could never treat my sister the way your father treated his—no matter what! And my mother did absolutely nothing but marry the man she loved.”
Charles Denby’s only reaction was a narrowing of his glacial blue eyes. “Your mother brought disgrace on herself and the family,” he said finally. “Alan Callaghan was a nothing and a nobody who put my sister in her coffin. Now the whole Valley knows him as a hopeless drunk. Get out of my way, young man. I have better things to do than talk to an upstart like you.”
Upstart? The irony was that Kieran looked more like their uncle than he did their own father. Alana sucked in her breath, fully expecting the rocket to launch.
Only Kieran surprised her. He spoke quietly, but his body language was immensely threatening. “There’s plenty of room for you to walk around me, sir. Another word and I can’t guarantee your safety.”
Alarmed, Alana took hold of Kieran’s hard-muscled arm—but not before Guy, aware of a mounting crisis, moved swiftly to join them.
“It might be an idea to cool it, Kieran.” He came alongside the younger man, keeping his voice low and level. “This is the Wool Exchange, and every eye is on us. You’re my friend, and I don’t want to see you get into trouble.”
Kieran shook his leonine head, as if to clear it. “This man here—” he gritted.
“It might be time, Charles, to walk away.” Guy glanced meaningfully at Charles Denby.
“That’s the trouble with people like you Callaghans,” Violette sneered, hot red colour staining her cheekbones. “You simply don’t know how to behave. Come on, Daddy, they’re not fit to speak to.” She spoke as though Alana and Kieran’s natural habitat was the gutter.
“Yes, run away!” Kieran told her in a furious undertone, looking as if he was about to give her a good shove. “It’s my sister who’s the lady around here. Never you!”
“Kieran, please—if not for our sakes, for Mum’s,” Alana implored. She was excruciatingly aware a number of people were turning to stare. “Wouldn’t she have been horrified to see us make a spectacle of ourselves?”
“Sadistic man!” Kieran rasped, as Charles Denby and his daughter stalked off. He turned his burning blue gaze on Guy. “What have we ever done to them to warrant such treatment?”
Guy’s answer was immediate. And it sounded as if it came from the heart. “Your uncle has never been able to face down his demons, Kieran. Charles Denby is a very bitter and unhappy man. It has to be said there was a time he adored his sister, and he continued to do so though he became warped and bitter. What you have to do is let your anger settle. There’s nothing you can do to change your uncle. His rigid attitude has deprived him of so much happiness in life. You can’t hope to engage his liking or sympathy.” He spread his hands. “Charles hasn’t anything left to give. He’s to be pitied, really.”
“I don’t pity him,” Kieran fumed. “We’re sick to death of being ignored and humiliated, Guy, of having our father spoken about with such contempt. How callous can a man get? If he weren’t an old fogey I’d have socked him.” He stared at his friend, so angry there was a red mist in front of his eyes. “Listen, would Lana be all right with you?” It came out in a plea. “There’s someone I must see.”
“But of course,” Guy answered, as though surprised Kieran would even have to ask.
Alana looked at her brother in consternation. “Who is it? Where are you going?” They hadn’t planned anything but a quiet evening, most likely pondering their losses.
“I feel bad, Lana.” He looked to her for understanding. “But I need to see someone.”
“A woman?” Alana stared at her brother, thinking it quite possible Kieran had a secret life.
“Yes. Of course a woman.” He bent to kiss her cheek. “You’ll go back to the hotel? I really don’t know what time I’ll be in. It could be an hour or hours. But we’ll leave as scheduled—first thing after breakfast.”
Alana kept her head tilted to him. “What’s happening here, Kieran? Who is this mystery woman? She sounds pretty important to you.”
“Well, I’m not much use to her,” Kieran said with great bitterness. “Look, I have to get out of here.”
“Then go,” Guy urged him gently. “I’ll look after Alana.”
“I don’t need anyone to look after me.” Alana turned on Guy, her own temper going up a dozen notches. “Anyway, Guy, you must have plans of your own.”
“Which just so happen to include you.” He rested his hand briefly on her shoulder. “Off you go, Kieran. Everything’s okay here. You, however, look like a man who’s in dire need of comfort.”
Kieran’s blue eyes flashed. ‘Thanks, Guy.” He transferred his gaze to his sister. “I’ll make it up to you, Lana.” With that he turned on his heel and stomped away, his tall, powerful body all tightly coiled fury.
They were out on the street, and strong sunlight, even at late afternoon, bounced off the pavement. The sidewalk was busy with people hurrying to and fro; traffic streamed bumper to bumper.
“There’s no need for you to bother about me, Guy,” Alana said, trying to keep her enormous upset down. Who exactly did her uncle think he was? The next Pope? “Your mother brought disgrace on herself and the family!” What did that mean? Some words, once uttered, could never be called back. The man was paranoid about family, and insufferably sanctimonious. “I’m perfectly all right on my own.”
“I don’t think so.” He was finely tuned to her mood, and deeply sympathetic.
“You’ll want to be with your friends,” she persisted doggedly.
“I regard you and Kieran as my friends.”
“Gosh, I don’t know if we’re fit to be your friends,” she muttered bitterly. “What the hell was my uncle on about? You know everything that goes on in the Valley. I adored my mother. She was a beautiful, dignified, gracious woman. How could she have brought disgrace on herself? Forget her awful family. They’re the real disgrace. They act like the enemy—except for Rose. How did Rose miss out on their worst characteristics? My mother marrying my father can’t possibly explain Uncle Charles’s attitude.”
“I told you. Charles is a tortured soul. And his wife and daughters have been affected to a greater or lesser degree. Rose, the youngest, is the most fortunate. Most of it has rubbed off on Violette, for which I pity her. Now, why don’t we go and grab a cup off coffee?”
“I don’t want one,” she said mutinously, unaware that the sparkle in her eyes and the colour in her cheeks made her look extraordinarily beautiful.
“Okay—a stiff drink. Don’t argue. I want one, even if you don’t. You can’t do anything about your mother’s family, Alana. Don’t even try.”
“Why do you just pick up and then drop Violette?” she accused him. “You sound on side with her, yet she’s so horrible. Could it be you’re only interested in her body?”
He
