Morgan's Child

‘Yes, you helped him to murder innocent women and children,’ cried Fliss fiercely. ‘And after all you’d said about saving lives!’

Morgan blew out a breath. ‘I was a prisoner, Fliss. Whatever you may have heard, whatever lies you may have been told, I was a prisoner, just like anyone else. Maybe knowing Julius saved my life. I suppose I’ll never know. But once I’d seen where their headquarters was, once I’d examined their weapons, there was no way they could let me go.’

Fliss quivered. ‘If you say so.’

‘I do say so.’

‘And you couldn’t even use the phone?’

‘The phone?’ Morgan snorted. ‘What phone? There aren’t any phones in the jungle. And they had more sense than to let me near their radio transmitter. Get real, Fliss. I’m sorry, but there was nothing I could do.’

Fliss smoothed her hands over her knees. ‘Well, anyway, you’re back now.’

‘Yes.’ Morgan noticed she didn’t say ‘home’.

‘I expect it all seems very strange.’ She chewed on her lower lip. ‘Four years is a long time.’

‘Yeah.’

Morgan could feel the tension building inside him, and he tried to tamp down his irritation. She was behaving as if he’d been on some kind of pleasure trip. Hadn’t she any idea of how desperate he had felt?

‘Look,’ he said, after the silence had stretched into an ominous chasm between them, ‘I know it hasn’t been easy for you—’ Or for me either, he wanted to add, but he bit back the words. ‘And I don’t want you to be afraid that I might—well, come on too strong.’ He doubted if he could anyway. ‘I realise it’s going to take a while for us to—adjust to what’s happened. But, if we take it slow and easy—’ he forced a smile ‘—who knows? I suppose time alone will tell.’

She nodded, and the chunky braid fell forward over her shoulder. The ebony strands caught the light, exposing glimpses of red and gold, like a fire in the darkness. He remembered when he’d first got to know her he’d thought she was like her hair. soft and silky on the outside, but with an inner heat that exploded his senses and fired his blood.

He closed his eyes abruptly, disturbed by the unexpectedly carnal nature of his thoughts. It was so long since he’d touched a woman, and he couldn’t deny he wanted to touch her now. He’d thought his sexual feelings were dormant, but he had only to be alone with her for all the fantasies he’d had about her to come flooding back into his mind. He didn’t know what that said about his mental condition, but it made a mockery of his determination to take it slow.

‘Are you all right?’

Fliss had noticed the effort he’d had to make to control his emotions, and once again he resented her cool response. Didn’t she have any idea of how he was feeling? Didn’t she comprehend that he needed understanding, not confrontation?

What if Mdola hadn’t overthrown Ungave...?

But that way lay danger. The doctors here had warned him not to dwell on what might have been. He was free; he was back in England; and he had to stop thinking about the past. The fact that his life had hung by a thread for so long had little bearing on his future.

‘I’m fine,’ he lied now, feeling the pain as his nails dug into the wood. He thrust back his anger, and tried to concentrate on positive images, but her detachment was bloody hard to take.

‘Good.’

She was pleating her skirt now, revealing an unexpected nervousness in the way she folded the cloth. But although it should have reassured him it didn’t Why the hell didn’t she open up to him?

‘Did you miss me?’

He hadn’t meant to say that, but it was out now, and Fliss gave him a guarded look. ‘Of course,’ she said, but somehow he couldn’t believe she meant it. If she had, wouldn’t she look at him with something more than suspicion in her eyes?

She shouldn’t have come back, he thought bitterly. She should have waited until they’d both had time to come to terms with the situation. He had the feeling she thought she was the only one who had suffered during his absence. For pity’s sake, it hadn’t been an easy ride for him.

She pulled her lower lip between her teeth now, and once again a host of erotic images filled his head. But it was obvious she had no such weaknesses, and when she spoke he had to think hard before his mind was able to shift into another gear.

‘I couldn’t believe it, you know.’

Morgan concentrated on his breathing. ‘No?’

‘No.’ She seemed to have found a topic she could discuss, and there was even some animation in her face as she went on, ‘The letter they sent—well, it didn’t seem real somehow. Even after I’d read it, I still couldn’t believe you were coming back.’

Morgan could feel his nerves stretching, expanding, unravelling like a ball of string that was strung so thinly he was half afraid it might break. ‘I understood my mother told you,’ he said tersely. ‘Are you saying you had a letter after all?’

‘Well, of course I got a letter!’ she exclaimed, and he wondered if she realised how stressed he was.

‘But you didn’t read it?’ he asked harshly, feeling his temper rising. ‘For God’s sake, Fliss, don’t you bother to read your mail?’

‘Of course I do.’ She was defensive now. ‘But—but that particular night I was tired, so I put it down in the kitchen and forgot about it’

Morgan couldn’t hide his anger. ‘You forgot about a letter from the Foreign Office!’ He uttered an oath. ‘My God, what could be more important than that?’

Fliss caught her breath. ‘I didn’t know there was a letter from the Foreign Office,’ she protested. ‘As I say, I was tired. And all I usually get are bills, anyway.’

Morgan breathed deeply. ‘All right. So when you eventually read the letter you didn’t believe it.’

‘I didn’t believe you could be alive,’ she amended breathily. ‘For heaven’s sake, Morgan, we’d been told you were dead. You must appreciate how it was for me.’

‘No.’ Morgan refused to make it easy for her. ‘Tell me,’ he invited grimly. ‘I’m getting the feeling you weren’t best pleased to get the news.’

‘That’s not true!’

‘Then what is true?’ he demanded. ‘Go on: enlighten me. Tell me how ecstatic it made you feel.’

‘It wasn’t like that—’

‘No sweat.’

‘It wasn’t.’ She swallowed, her hand seeking the gold chain she wore about her throat. ‘We—I—was stunned. Your mother told you, we’d even held a memorial service for you—’

‘I know that.’ He scowled.

‘Then you should understand how—how distressing it was to hear the news.’

Distressing!

Morgan wanted to beat his head against the wall. For God’s sake, was she deliberately trying to destroy him? She was using words to describe his return that might more accurately be used to describe his death.

“I think you’d better go,’ he said, keeping his tone flat. If he allowed his real feelings to show, she’d run from here to next week. Pressing his hands down on the back of the chair, he pushed himself to his feet. ‘Templar—the psycho—will be coming soon, and he doesn’t like an audience.’

‘Oh, but—’ Suddenly, she was reluctant to leave. The doctor said you might like to—to talk.’

‘We’ve talked,’ said Morgan tightly, swinging his leg across the chair, but he misjudged its height and the heavy article went over. It cracked like a bullet as it landed on the floor.

Fliss jumped to her feet then and, almost simultaneously, the door opened and Sean Templar burst into the room. It made Morgan wonder if the psychologist had been standing with his ear glued to the panels all the time they were talking, ready to intervene if anything untoward occurred.