Sweet Lies

The furious tone of his voice seared through her body till every nerve tingled with foreboding. She could hear the frantic hammering of her heart against her tightening rib cage.

“He’s my son,” she managed at last, though her voice was a thin whisper of despair. His grip on her arm tightened at her words, but he remained silent, his body rigid with tension.

“I didn’t know you had a child.” His voice was a harsh whisper, as if some sharp pain was trapped in his throat. Megan looked at him anxiously, her whole body trembling as she watched his gaze switch swiftly back to Luke, staring at him with an intensity that unnerved her.

“And the father?” Darrow drawled, his eyes darting back to hers and fixing on her with an icy intent.

CATHERINE O’CONNOR was born and has lived all her life in Manchester, England, where she is a happily married woman with five demanding children, a neurotic cat, an untrainable dog and a rabbit. She spends most of her time either writing or planning her next story, and without the support and encouragement of her long-suffering husband, this would be impossible. Though her heroes are always wonderfully handsome and incredibly rich, she still prefers her own loving husband.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

COPYRIGHT

THE Yorkshire hills rose majestically over the shimmering vast waters of Lake Rannaleigh, their towering peaks already lost in the cold grey mists that were rolling slowly down over the rugged russet-brown hills. Megan Parkinson released the pressure on the accelerator without even being aware of her action, her heart twisting with a sudden sharp pain at the sight of the well-remembered scene. The car slowed down to a virtual stop and Megan allowed herself a moment of uncharacteristic self-indulgence. A ghost of a smile flickered over her face as her expressive green eyes softened with sentimental tears.

Everything was just as she remembered it: the tiny square, the two small hotels, happily co-existing, sharing the steady flow of tourists, and Mrs Bain’s name was still painted in bold black capital letters across the top of the corner shop. It sold absolutely anything anyone could ever need, as well as being the only post office for miles around. Megan remembered it all affectionately, a gentle sigh escaping from her softly parted lips.

Her eyes clouded momentarily with sudden doubts as too many memories flooded into her mind, disturbing her snatched moment of tranquillity. She bit nervously, her teeth sinking tenderly into her full bottom lip as all her nerves tensed uneasily. She cast a quick, protective glance over her shoulder at the innocently sleeping form curled up on the rear seat. He looked surprisingly fragile in repose. His delicate features took on a fragile quality that denied his physical strength and determined character, which were only recently was becoming a problem for her.

An instinctive smile tugged at the corners of her mouth, curling her full lips as she looked at him. The metamorphosis had already started; he was beginning to look more and more like his father with each passing day. Megan wondered whether she was just over-sensitive to his looks, searching for resemblances, a part of her hoping that he would look like his father. Though the thought caused equal amounts of pain and pleasure to her, Megan knew she had no control over the situation. Her expression softened as she reached out and tucked the car-rug around her son’s unprotected shoulders.

At that moment the bright glare of headlights flashed at her, causing her to blink rapidly. She jumped as a car overtook her, its horn blaring at her obstruction. She caught a glimpse of the hard profile of the driver’s handsome face as he sped past. Her head spun round, drawn by the familiar visage, her heart contracting violently within her. Megan stared after the car, all the old pain resurfacing with a cruel vengeance. Her eyes remained fixed on the rear lights, as if trapped by their brightness, till they were tiny pin-pricks of red fading into the distance.

‘It couldn’t have been him,’ she said aloud to herself. ‘Not here, not now.’ She felt her teeth clamp against each other as she ground the words through her clenched mouth and struggled to contain the rise of panic that was surging through her trembling body. It was her mind playing tricks, she told herself, trying to remain calm as her heart began to thud painfully against her tight chest.

Just coming back here was enough to stir up so many hidden ghosts and bitter memories.

The frown deepened across Megan’s brow as she questioned the wisdom of returning, but circumstances beyond her control had forced her return, she remembered with a painful twist of her heart.

Much to her regret, Megan hadn’t been able to come back for her mother’s funeral. Her death had been so sudden—a traffic accident—and Luke had still been in hospital, undergoing a series of tests while doctors sought the cause of his illness, and she couldn’t leave him. He had been much too ill and frightened. She hoped her mother would have understood, but she doubted whether the rest of the community had. She could imagine the scandal her absence had caused and shook her head. She had been forced to leave Rannaleigh all those years ago to avoid scandal. She knew that the past would never stop haunting her but surely, she kept reassuring herself, that driver could not possibly have been him? Not Darrow Maine.