be ridiculous, Megan,’ he said dismissively, ignoring the expression on her face. ‘Your ambition is blinding you. I’m sorry, but he’s not going to live up to some bizarre ideal you have of him—he just hasn’t your physical strength,’ he told her firmly.
‘Well, we’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?’ she retorted briskly, confident that Luke would show just how capable he was.
‘There’s no way I’m allowing him to over-stretch himself for your benefit. It could be extremely dangerous,’ he told her, his tone brooking no argument and his jaw set firmly.
‘Well, we wouldn’t want anything upsetting your precious record, would we?’ she goaded him, pain and frustration twisting her stomach. She paid no heed to the darkening of his eyes or the glitter of anger that flickered there. Like a wounded animal she just wanted to hit out, to hurt him as he was hurting her.
‘You know damn well it’s not a case of that…’ he ground out, but his words faded as a shadow fell across the table. His anger evaporated immediately, to be replaced by a brilliant smile.
‘Thanks, Luke,’ he said, taking the glass and placing it in front of Megan, who was carefully avoiding his eyes. ‘I think I’d best mix with some other guests,’ Darrow went on, pushing himself away from the table and pausing for a moment, till Megan was forced to look up and confront his grim expression.
A frown marred Megan’s usual smooth brow. She was annoyed at how smoothly he had managed to change his fa
‘I’ll see you later.’ He smiled at both of them, but Megan could see another message clearly in his eyes, that warned her that he was determined to finish their talk.
‘We’ll be leaving shortly. We are both tired with the travelling,’ Megan offered as an explanation, determined to go back to the safety of her cosy lodge.
His grin widened, showing a flash of white predatory teeth that made Megan inwardly wince.
‘We have a dinner-date, don’t we?’
‘Come on, Mum,’ agreed Luke. ‘It’s our first night. Besides, me and this lad from Manchester are in contest on one of the games and I can’t let him think I’ve run away from the challenge. Can I?’ His eyes danced with devilment and he struggled to control the teasing smile that tugged at his lips. He was obviously aware of the tension between his mother and Darrow and was delighting in it.
‘Later, then. You did agree to dinner, didn’t you?’ Darrow smiled. The threat of confrontation was only noticeable to Megan, and she forced herself to nod in agreement while mentally she had already decided she would leave at once.
She watched him move with ease, carefully gliding from group to group with a naturalness that she envied. She had never recovered from her mother’s criticism—even now it took all her will-power to combat her inner feelings of insecurity and present a confident fa
The die was cast. The secret she had kept so long must remain deep within her heart. She had to protect her only son from anything that might make him feel rejected or unloved. Megan knew just how painful that could be.
Her mind drifted back to her unhappy childhood and the most memorable of the many arguments she had had with her mother.
‘He doesn’t care for you,’ her mother had informed her briskly as she sorted through a stack of papers, not even bothering to look at her distressed daughter. ‘He just feels sorry for you. It’s a pity, that’s all,’ she had continued, casting a brief look of disgust at her daughter’s pale, sad face.
‘He does care,’ Megan had replied, her voice barely audible and lacking conviction.
‘Don’t be so pathetic,’ she had scoffed, tossing the papers to one side and standing up in front of her daughter, ready for battle.
‘I’m not—’
‘Of course you are. It’s no good looking at me like that; you know I’m right,’ her mother had said confidently, charging on, careless of her daughter’s feelings. ‘I don’t know why you’re so dependent on him. Stand on your own two feet. I had to. I fought all the way on my own and so should you.’
‘I’m not going to be on my own. Darrow will come back,’ Megan had protested, her conviction fading against her mother’s onslaught.
‘Grow up, Megan. Out of sight, out of mind.’ She had lifted Megan’s hair between her fingers in despair. ‘A little dowdy thing like you can hardly compete against those American beauties he’ll be meeting.’
‘He’ll be back,’ Megan had cried in utter frustration.
‘Well, don’t hold your breath. Your father never made an appearance, did he?’ she had tossed at her as she marched away, and Megan had known, as usual, that she was a disappointment to her mother, that she could never be as strong as her. And surprisingly that still hurt.
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