Carole Mortimer Romance Collection

Silke hurried to pull out a chair from the kitchen table, sitting her mother down in it before moving to sit in the chair opposite, looking across at her worriedly; there could be no doubting her mother’s distress at the news.

Her mother moistened dry lips. ‘Is he—is he—?’

‘He’s in a private clinic,’ Silke reassured gently. She had never seen her mother shaken like this; there must have been something very special between her mother and Henry Winter for her to be reacting like this. ‘I’m going to telephone later to see if he’s—’

‘Just tell me where it is.’ Her mother stood up abruptly, already taking off her apron before moving to wash her flour-covered hands.

Silke frowned at her. ‘But a short time ago you ran away from the man—’

‘Just tell me, Silke,’ her mother repeated sharply, her face more pale and strained than ever. ‘Today wasn’t the first time I ran away from Hal,’ she added stiltedly. ‘I think, this time—in the circumstances—I owe him an explanation.’ She looked pained at the thought.

Silke had guessed some of what might have occurred between the older couple in the past, and ‘in the circumstances’ maybe it would be fairer to Henry Winter not to tell her mother he wasn’t in any immediate danger; she knew too well herself how far and how ably her mother could run when she set her mind to it. Henry would never find her!

So instead she told her mother exactly where the clinic was, assuring her she would clear away the mess she had been making when Silke arrived.

‘But if you run into the nephew—beware!’ she thought it prudent to advise her mother as she left, remembering all too clearly her own run-ins with Lyon Buchanan. ‘He’s very protective of his uncle,’ she added by way of explanation—although she knew that wasn’t strictly the truth; Lyon Buchanan had an arrogant disdain about him that owed nothing to family loyalty.

‘So he damn well should be,’ her mother replied scathingly. ‘I’ll call you if I’m going to be late,’ she added dismissively.

Silke looked after her mother frowningly; just what had she meant by that parting comment concerning Lyon Buchanan? No doubt her mother would tell her soon enough, and in her own time, if she chose to, as she always had.

One thing Silke did know—Lyon Buchanan wasn’t going to like it that a member of her family—Satin, no less!—was visiting his uncle...!

* * *

It was a long evening for Silke, sitting alone in the flat, wondering exactly what her mother was doing at the clinic all this time. Obviously the older couple had found a lot to talk about, but, even so, she wouldn’t have thought Henry was in any condition to discuss anything too emotional.

When her mother still hadn’t returned by the next morning Silke went into the agency and opened up for the day, leaving the secretary to deal with things while she went to the clinic herself, her curiosity getting the better of her now. And if anything had happened to Henry, from her mother’s reaction to seeing him again after all these years, Silke didn’t like to think what condition her mother was going to be in.

‘Your mother is in Mr Winter’s room, Miss Jordan,’ the receptionist told her in answer to her query. ‘Down the corridor, first door on the left,’ she directed with a smile.

Silke had only to step into the room, see the truckle-bed set up in one corner as close as possible to the hospital bed where Henry lay, to know exactly where her mother had spent the night. In fact, her mother now sat in a chair beside Henry’s bed, her hand firmly clasped in the elderly man’s, a look of such utter contentment on both their faces as they gazed at each other that it told its own story; whatever differences this couple had had in the past, they were now very definitely behind them. Lyon Buchanan was going to be incensed all over again. If he had ever calmed down!

‘Silke!’ Her mother turned to her with a glowing smile. ‘Darling, I’m sorry I didn’t ring you last night, but—’

‘It’s perfectly all right, Mother,’ she assured her with a smile of her own. ‘From the look of you, you had other things on your mind. Hello, Henry.’ She turned to the relaxed man lying in the bed, relieved to see how much better he looked. ‘How are you?’

‘As soon as they discharge me from here, well on my way to becoming your stepfather,’ he told her wryly, that twinkle back in his eyes.

‘Hal!’ her mother gasped, a becoming blush heating her cheeks as she looked awkwardly across at Silke.

‘We agreed that we’ve already wasted enough years,’ her fiancé told her sternly. ‘I want you to make all the arrangements so that the ceremony can take place as soon as I leave here. How do you feel about that, Silke?’

He looked almost as arrogant as his nephew at that moment. But only almost—no one could be quite as arrogant as Lyon Buchanan, in Silke’s opinion! Although it gave her a glimpse of what Henry must have been like as a younger man. It made her doubly curious as to how her mother could have managed to run away from him in the first place.

‘I feel fine about it,’ Silke told him with a shrug.

‘I’ve told your mother about my shocking behaviour towards you yesterday.’ Henry looked a little shame-faced.

Silke nodded, crossing the room to join them. ‘Warned her she’ll be marrying a lecher, have you?’ she teased lightly, knowing that her mother was strong enough to curb any such tendencies. And Henry had only been having a little fun, after all—albeit at her expense!

He gave a rueful grin. ‘All that’s going to change now I have your mother back in my life,’ he assured.

Silke laughed softly. ‘I’m sure it is,’ she said with certainty. ‘And while I might think it’s wonderful that you’ve sorted out your differences and decided to get married, I know someone else who won’t be so happy about it.’ She raised pointed brows at Henry.

‘Lyon!’ he said with feeling.

‘Exactly.’ She grimaced.

Henry’s mouth tightened determinedly. ‘I’ll deal with Lyon,’ he told them forcefully.

After Lyon’s reaction yesterday to believing Silke was the one who was about to marry his uncle, she didn’t think he would be any more enamoured of the idea of her mother doing so. But if Henry thought he could ‘deal’ with him... She just hoped her mother didn’t get mown down in the crossfire!

‘We’ll deal with him together,’ her mother spoke up firmly, the determined glitter in her eyes immediately dispelling any doubts Silke might have had about her mother’s being able to stand up to Lyon—her mother looked like a Sherman tank about to do battle with the enemy!

In fact, her mother’s next words confirmed that that was exactly how she felt about it. ‘After all, he’s only a Buchanan,’ she said hardly.

Again there was that edge to her mother’s voice when talking about Lyon Buchanan, and Silke couldn’t help wondering if he had somehow been involved in the past break-up of the older couple. Although Silke didn’t remember Henry Winter being one of the men her mother had been involved with when she was with her as a child, and, if her mother’s and Henry’s relationship had been before Silke was even born, then Lyon would only have been a child himself, surely making it unlikely that he could have any serious effect on two adults? No doubt she would get the full story from her mother—when she could manage to drag herself away from Henry’s side!—and until then Silke knew she would just have to be patient where her own curiosity was concerned.

She straightened. ‘I’ll get back to the agency,’ she told her mother, smiling affectionately as her mother reluctantly made to rise. ‘I think you can take one day off, Mummy; after all, it isn’t every day you become engaged!’ And she had never seen her mother look so happy.

Her mother was even blushing like a schoolgirl as she stood up to hug Silke. ‘I’ll explain it all to you later, darling. I promise.’

As Silke went back to the office she knew it wasn’t her the other couple should feel apprehensive about explaining things to, that Lyon was going to be the one they should be wary of, despite Henry’s determination where his nephew was concerned.

It also dawned on her—horrifically!—that there was no longer any chance of her never seeing Lyon again, that once her mother married Henry Lyon would somehow be related to her. What a dreadful prospect!

‘There’s someone waiting in the office to see you,’ the agency secretary told Silke as soon as she walked in through the doorway.

‘Someone to see—’ Silke broke off her puzzled question as she guessed from Jackie’s flustered expression exactly who her visitor was; who else would be arrogant enough to demand admission to her mother’s private office! ‘Lyon Buchanan!’ she said with feeling.

Jackie looked even more agitated. ‘I don’t know who he is, he didn’t deign to give a name, but he’s arrogant as Old Nick! I told him you wouldn’t be back until later, but he insisted on waiting for you. I—’

‘Don’t worry about it, Jackie,’ Silke soothed distractedly, glancing towards the closed inner office door, behind which she was sure Lyon Buchanan lay—sat—in wait for her. ‘I quite understand your dilemma; Old Nick has nothing on this man!’ She paused near the inner office door. ‘And if one or both of us isn’t out of this office in five minutes, then I want you to call the police—because we’re probably murdering each other! Only joking, Jackie,’ she assured with a rueful smile as the other girl looked more worried than ever. ‘As far as I’m aware, he isn’t physically violent.’ It wasn’t necessary when you were verbally capable of demolishing someone!

He wasn’t sitting at all when Silke entered the office, but standing in front of the window, the weak March sunlight behind him clearly outlining the powerful strength of his body, the darkness of his hair taking on a silvery sheen, his hands—those hands she had to avoid looking at because their beauty totally belied the arrogant hardness of the rest of this man—thrust into the pockets of his tailored trousers. Thank God!

As he stepped forward out of the sunlight his face was thrown into sharp profile, those grey eyes taking on a silver intensity. Silke had no idea why he had returned so quickly after their heated exchange yesterday, but he certainly didn’t look as if he was about to offer her an apology for his behaviour!

In fact, his next words confirmed it. ‘So you’ve finally managed to drag yourself away from my uncle’s side?’ he taunted.

Silke drew in a long, controlling breath; instantly losing her temper with this man wasn’t going to help the situation. If only he didn’t have the ability to make her do that so easily! ‘Mr Buchanan,’ she greeted calmly, closing the door firmly behind her, relieved that she was at least dressed in a businesslike way this morning, her black suit complemented by an emerald-green blouse that made her eyes appear greener than ever, her hair a silky blonde cloud down past her shoulders. ‘What can I do for you this morning?’ She pointedly took her seat behind her mother’s desk, forcing him to move away from the window to the other side of the desk if he wanted to look at her while they talked.

His mouth twisted at her brisk, businesslike tone. ‘It’s not what you can do for me, but what I can do for you,’ he misquoted drily.

Silke quirked blonde brows enquiringly. What was the man talking about now?

He sat on the side of the desk, bringing him dangerously close to Silke, his hands out of his pockets now—a fact Silke took care to avoid looking at. ‘How much do you want, Silke?’