Carole Mortimer Romance Collection

Silke couldn’t be bothered to argue with him any more, especially in front of James; but ‘family’ was the last thing she considered Lyon to be. And he must have a very short memory himself if he really thought he could claim that! And she knew damn well there was nothing wrong whatsoever with Lyon’s memory.

‘Goodbye, Lyon,’ she said almost wearily.

‘Is there nothing I can say to make you change your mind about this?’ His tone had softened slightly. ‘Silke, you know what happened before, and the situation is so much worse now. Please think about what you’re doing.’ The last was added almost gently.

She knew he believed her to be going away with James, and she could see how displeased he was at that idea, and part of her wanted to tell him that she wasn’t doing that at all. But the sensible side of her knew it would achieve nothing, that she had to go away anyway, and perhaps it was better, for the moment, to let Lyon go on believing she was leaving with James. She would tell her mother the truth, obviously, wouldn’t let her worry unnecessarily.

‘I’ve thought, Lyon,’ she told him huskily. ‘And this is what I want.’

His mouth tightened again. ‘Very well,’ he bit out harshly before walking to the door. But he didn’t leave straight away, stopping in front of James, looking coldly at the younger man. ‘Take care of her, Cameron. Or this time you’ll have me to answer to,’ he added ominously.

Silke frowned after him as he finally left. Part of her had been resentful of his slightly possessive tone. The rest of her had felt the warmth of her love for him. And it was the latter she had to fight now; Lyon didn’t love her, just felt he had some sort of proprietorial right to her because of what had happened between them.

She suddenly became aware of James’s curious look, and attempted to shake off her gloom concerning Lyon as she returned James’s gaze.

He grimaced. ‘Bad timing again!’

Her mouth twisted. ‘You could say that.’

James nodded. ‘Who is that man?’

She stiffened. ‘Is it important?’

He shrugged. ‘Not if you don’t want to tell me. And why should you?’ he dismissed self-derisively. ‘I actually only called round to tell you that Cheryl and I are all right again now. After last week I thought I owed you that at least,’ he added sheepishly. ‘You must think I’m a complete idiot!’

‘Come in, James,’ she invited wearily, wondering how she had ever thought this man was strong and capable; he had behaved like a hurt little boy this last couple of weeks, wanting to get back the toy he had given up because the one he really wanted had decided not to play for a while. ‘Can I get you a cup of tea or something?’ she offered once he had come in and closed the door behind him.

‘No, thanks. Cheryl will be expecting me home soon,’ he added with a self-conscious grimace.

Silke nodded. ‘I’m glad the two of you have sorted things out.’

‘I behaved like an idiot last week, didn’t I?’ He sighed. ‘It’s just that things were so awful between Cheryl and me, and then I began to wonder if I hadn’t made a mistake giving you up, and—’

‘It really doesn’t matter, James,’ she cut in dismissively. ‘There’s no harm done. Either with me or Cheryl,’ she added ruefully.

‘I was obviously wasting my time with you.’ He nodded.

Silke gave him a sharp look. ‘What do you mean?’

He gave her an affectionate smile. ‘You love that man Lyon, don’t you?’

‘No, I—’ She broke off her vehement denial as James gave her a look of teasing reproval. ‘Maybe,’ she conceded tautly.

James grinned at her now, obviously elated at having his marriage back again, his avowals of love for Silke only a week ago completely forgotten, and his anger at her rejection too. ‘Not maybe, Silke, definitely!’ he teased. ‘And he obviously feels the same way—’

‘No, he doesn’t,’ she cut in determinedly.

‘No?’ James questioned derisively. ‘Then why does he act like a jealous lover every time he sees me?’

Colour warmed her cheeks at having Lyon described as her lover. Because that was what he had been. Her only lover.

‘Ah,’ James said knowledgeably.

Silke looked at him frowningly. ‘What do you mean, “ah”?’

He shook his head. ‘I really am sorry for behaving like an idiot last week, Silke.’ He walked to the door. ‘Send me an invitation to the wedding, won’t you?’ he added teasingly as he prepared to leave. ‘It probably wouldn’t be a good idea for me to come, but at least the invitation will tell me the two of you have sorted things out. And I would like to think of you being happy, Silke,’ he added huskily.

‘Not with Lyon,’ she told him firmly, shaking her head.

‘We’ll see,’ he returned enigmatically. ‘And the first thing you ought to do is let him know that you aren’t going away with me!’

She had no intention of telling Lyon any such thing. He would learn the truth soon enough, no doubt, but for the moment she needed a little breathing space. Time to get away. Time to get over loving Lyon...

* * *

‘What are you doing, darling?’ Her mother looked at her concernedly as they sat across from each other in the spacious sitting-room of her new home.

Silke had called in briefly to talk to her mother before going away; she didn’t want to cause her mother any more distress than she had had in recent weeks, by simply disappearing. Obviously Lyon had seen her mother first!

‘Not what Lyon thinks I am,’ she answered drily.

‘You and Lyon...’ her mother began slowly, a slightly puzzled frown on her face.

Silke stiffened. ‘There isn’t a “Lyon and me”,’ she denied determinedly.

Her mother looked at her closely. ‘Oh, I think there is,’ she said knowingly.

She shook her head. ‘No, I—’

‘Silke, I’ve talked to Lyon,’ her mother put in quietly.

Silke gave her a sharp look. What did she mean, she had talked to Lyon? What about? Surely he wouldn’t have— No, she didn’t believe for one moment Lyon would have told her mother what had happened between them.

‘We’ve both talked,’ her mother corrected herself. ‘About the past, about my meeting Henry again after all these years. I think—no, I’m sure Lyon understands what happened now.’

Silke watched her closely. ‘And?’

‘And we understand each other better now,’ her mother smiled. ‘It’s because of that understanding—’ she sobered ‘—that I don’t think history should repeat itself.’ She gave Silke a pointed look.

She stiffened, at once on the defensive. ‘I don’t know what you mean,’ she avoided. There was no chance of history repeating itself; she might love Lyon, but he certainly didn’t love her.

‘You’re running, Silke,’ her mother chided. ‘Just as I did. Don’t you think you should give Lyon a chance?’

‘To do what?’ she frowned.

‘Silke, I don’t know what this business with James is all about, but I do know you aren’t going away with him, as Lyon thinks you are.’ She shook her head.

Silke frowned. ‘Lyon told you about that?’