Chapter Ten #2
She remembered him fussing over her when she came out of hospital with amnesia. And before that, after she found she was pregnant, not letting her carry anything or get too tired.
The man was a born protector.
She grimaced, her eyes squeezing tight shut. He’d have made a wonderful father.
‘Greer?’
Shock jolted through her as she felt the softest caress on her cheek. So light she almost wondered if it were real.
But there was no mistaking the feel of his knuckles brushing her face. For the tiniest second she wilted against his stroking fingers, posture relaxing and head leaning towards him.
Even that barely there touch held such power.
She snapped her eyes open and met his black stare. It shimmered with something she couldn’t read but felt all the way to her curling toes. It wasn’t sexual but it proved the connection between them wasn’t dead.
Unable to hold that searing regard, she looked down to her twisting hands and sucked in a breath, realising what she was doing. The way she slid her thumb over one finger again and again. She’d only worn her wedding ring for a short time but she was massaging the place where it had been.
Because she missed it?
The thought shattered her. She wasn’t ready to deal with her feelings for her husband.
But running away hadn’t helped, had it?
Finally she forced out the words. ‘Thank you.’ She cast a look his way, careful not to meet his eyes. ‘I’ll stay.’
She just hoped she wasn’t making an enormous mistake.
Days later Greer sat on the terrace, finishing the mango-and-coconut cake Alice had served with her afternoon tea.
Initially Greer had felt uncomfortable around the housekeeper. She’d never had staff, and wondered what the woman must think about a wife turning up out of nowhere.
But Alice was warm-hearted and practical, a soothing presence whose calm efficiency went a long way towards making Greer feel at home in Conall’s stunning home.
She couldn’t think of it as hers. Yet each time she woke to that wonderful view, padded through the gracious, comfortable rooms or strolled in the gardens, she felt some of the tightness around her chest ease.
Glimmers of lightness pierced the gloom of loss and hurt.
Conall had been right, insisting she stay.
It wasn’t just the peace here, but the company. He’d given her space but had worked mainly from home and she was constantly aware of him nearby. They ate together and Greer discovered that, far from dreading his presence, she looked forward to it.
Her emotions were so muddled!
Today, dissatisfied with reading or lazing in the pool, she’d started working again.
She’d spent the morning in the room adjoining Conall’s home office, and after the first hour they’d settled into a familiar rhythm. Each had their own tasks but with the door open between them they often consulted and even spent half an hour strategising on a new investment opportunity.
It had been just what she needed. To feel competent and, she realised, less alone. She enjoyed her work and it was good to have something positive to focus on.
A noise made her turn her head and there he was, ridiculously breathtaking in the suit he’d worn to a meeting in the city.
Her heart seized for a second before fluttering back into something like a regular beat.
Surely she shouldn’t still react to Conall with such breathless enthusiasm.
But her awareness of him was as strong as ever, if not growing.
Their passionate sojourn last weekend had amplified all her restless yearning.
Or maybe it was those memories of the months they’d spent together, barely out of each other’s sight.
He’d been easier to resist when she had no recollection of the bliss she found in his arms.
Conall shrugged out of his jacket and tugged his tie loose, giving her a blistering smile that made her bones melt.
He took a seat beside her and the blood fizzed under her skin.
She tugged her gaze away as he undid his cuffs and rolled them up to his elbows.
Something about those powerful forearms always made her feel like her insides were melting.
‘Alice made coconut-and-mango cake?’
Greer looked at her half-eaten slice rather than stare hungrily at the man she was trying to hold at a distance. It was hard, now, to remember why that distance had seemed so important.
‘Would you like some?’ She pushed her plate across the glass-topped table.
‘At the risk of turning into my father, I might just do that. Thank you.’
He took a bite. His expression changed and suddenly she remembered him tasting her, savouring her body as if she were the sweetest treat.
Heat settled low in her body and she shifted, trying to ease that ache between her thighs. She watched the muscles move in his throat and her nipples hardened.
Greer folded her arms, trying to hide her reaction. ‘What did you mean about the risk of turning into your father?’
Conall licked frosting from the corner of his mouth and she had to look away. ‘He’s a big man, not just in size but in other ways too.’
‘He’s certainly got a forceful personality.’
She remembered the man in Perth. He’d dominated the conversation with his booming voice and an attitude that proclaimed him the most important person at the function.
Conall’s eyes narrowed. Was he too remembering that event? The way Fraser Abercrombie had all but ignored her, after that one sweeping survey that made her jaw lock so she didn’t demand he keep his eyes above her neckline.
‘He has.’ The affirmation didn’t sound positive. ‘He’s loud and brash. His capacity for work and success are the stuff of legend. And he matches that with an enormous appetite for pleasure.’
Conall’s mouth turned down and she read something in his eyes that made her want to change the subject, for his sake. Whatever track his thoughts followed, wasn’t pleasant.
‘It’s as well he has a big frame to match his big appetite, if he has a weakness for cake. Though I did notice last year that he’s beginning to grow portly. But I don’t think you have anything to worry about. You rarely indulge and you exercise every day.’
She heard a crack of laughter as Conall’s expression morphed from disapproving to amused.
‘With that ringing endorsement I’ll risk another piece of cake.’ He took another bite, watching her as he chewed. It felt deliciously intimate, seeing his dark eyes dance with pleasure. ‘You’re right. He has a sweet tooth. Desserts are one of his weaknesses.’
‘But not the only one,’ she murmured.
For so long she’d wanted to know more about Conall’s family but he’d avoided talking about them, apart from that recent, disturbing revelation about his sailing mishap with his appalling brother.
When she’d asked if his family would attend their wedding he’d said their marriage was no business of his family.
His tone had made it clear he hadn’t wanted to discuss the subject.
A moment later he’d distracted her with a mind-numbing kiss.
But a kiss couldn’t blot out the suspicion he thought his family would consider her not good enough. Which had fed her concern that they weren’t marrying for the right reasons.
‘You never speak of him.’
Conall’s voice was gruff as he met her stare. ‘It’s not a topic I like discussing.’
In the past she hadn’t pressed for more information because of exactly that reaction. Was it any wonder their relationship had proved fragile when they hadn’t been able to discuss such basic subjects?
She looked away, that sense of connection they’d just shared withering.
After a moment Conall spoke again, his tone careful, and that intrigued her almost as much as his words. ‘He’s famous for his self-indulgence. Fine food and wine, expensive racehorses, expensive cigars, only the best whiskys and…’
Conall paused and she turned to see his mouth tighten.
‘You don’t have to—’
‘I want to. You’re my wife.’
He said the word with such deliberation it felt like a challenge.
She’d adored Conall for so long but had never felt like his wife. Because he didn’t love her, and the way he shut down any discussion about his family or his past reinforced that. Why open up now?
‘My father has five children by four different women. He’s on his fifth wife now.’
Greer knew about the man, of course. He was a larger-than-life billionaire, dominating both the Australian and international mining industries. She knew about the multiple wives but Conall’s expression made her wonder again what it had been like growing up with such a man.
‘Your mother—’
‘Wasn’t one of his wives.’
Greer frowned. What she knew of Fraser Abercrombie came from business articles. She’d never read the biography that came out a few years ago. Perhaps she should have. ‘But you have the same surname.’
‘When I was five my mother died and the authorities contacted my father. He had my name legally changed to his and I was raised in his house.’ Conall’s mouth twisted and Greer felt an answering corkscrew of tension in her stomach. ‘He’s big on ownership.’
There was no mistaking that sour tone. And the way he’d said he was raised in his father’s house, rather than that his father raised him, was odd.
‘In that case I’m surprised he waited until your mother died to claim you.’
‘He didn’t know about me. She kept her pregnancy secret. She gave her notice and moved interstate.’
‘Her notice?’
Conall’s expression turned sombre. ‘She worked for him, one of his junior assistants.’
Greer gasped, her hand pressing against her sternum. The similarities…
He nodded. ‘It was one of the reasons I resisted you so long. Because of the need not to be like my father. I hated that you might feel pressured because I pay your salary.’
‘I’d never think that! Not about you.’
It was the second time he’d voiced concern about their respective work situations. It really must have bothered him.
She leaned across and grabbed his arm, wrapping her fingers around the bare flesh of his forearm. She might have doubts about their marriage now the pregnancy that cemented it was finished, but she knew Conall would never use his position of power to seduce or force a woman.
His warm hand covered hers and for a heartbeat she felt again that link, that understanding between them.
‘Was that what happened to your mother? Was she pressured?’
Conall stiffened and Greer would have pulled her hand away but he stopped her, long fingers curling around hers, his thumb stroking the back of her hand.
‘I don’t know for sure. I remember her talking in the kitchen while I played in the next room.
She spoke about my father. I remember because Abercrombie seemed such a strange name then.
She kept repeating that she’d had no choice.
’ He frowned. ‘I’d never heard her so upset.
It scared me. I ran in and hugged her so she wouldn’t cry and that’s all I recall.
But the memory stayed with me because I’d never known her distressed like that.
It wasn’t until years later that I began to put two and two together. ’
Greer’s chest squeezed in sympathy for them both. It wasn’t proof, but she’d take Conall’s suspicions over someone else’s certainties any day. She wanted to wrap her arms around him as if he were still that little boy, and hold him close.
‘It must have been tough going to live with your father.’
Way to go with the understatements, Greer.
His mouth kicked up in a crooked smile. ‘It was…interesting.’
She offered a wry smile. In some ways they were two of a kind with their habit of locking emotions away.
The shadows in his eyes prompted her to change the subject. Much as she loved him sharing with her, she hated those shadows. ‘I never knew my father,’ she offered.
‘He died before you were born?’
She shook her head. ‘He was still alive when my mother was. But I don’t know his name. She never told me and it’s not on my birth certificate.’
‘That’s harsh. Did she—?’
‘She was afraid of him. That’s why his name wasn’t on the certificate. She thought it safer that way. Whoever he was, she spent her life hiding from him.’
Conall swore, his hold tightening. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘I was lucky. I had a wonderful mother.’
Returning his concerned gaze, her throat constricted. He mightn’t love her, he mightn’t have wanted their child, yet he’d tried to protect them both. Every instinct screamed that Conall would have made a wonderful father.
Which made her yearn all the more for what couldn’t be.