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Logan paused. ‘You seem different today somehow,’ he said eventually.
‘Do I?’ she returned in that same brittle voice. ‘Perhaps we should put that down to the fact that I’m a little—upset, that my father and I are no longer even speaking to each other because of his decision to marry a woman I can’t even begin to like!’
Her voice broke slightly over the last. To her inner annoyance. She was rather tired of appearing immature and emotional in front of this man. In fact, she was more than tired of it!
‘It will all sort itself out, Darcy,’ Logan told her gently, reaching out to put his hand over one of hers.
She looked across at him with cool grey eyes. ‘You seem very sure of that?’
‘I am.’
‘How can you be?’
His hand squeezed hers slightly. ‘Because I—’
‘May I take your order now, sir? Madam?’ The waiter stood expectantly beside their table.
‘No, you—’ Logan broke off his angry retort, drawing in a deep, controlling breath, before turning to Darcy. ‘Are you ready to order?’
She smiled up at the waiter to make up for Logan’s previous terseness. ‘Lasagne and a green salad, please,’ she ordered—but wasn’t absolutely sure she would be around long enough to eat it!
‘I’ll have the same,’ Logan announced.
‘Would you like any water with your meal—?’
‘No, we wouldn’t,’ Logan interrupted the man gratingly, glaring up at him with icy blue eyes.
‘Thank you.’ Darcy smiled up at the young man again, receiving a grateful grin in return before he left in the direction of the kitchen.
Logan removed his hand abruptly from covering hers. ‘I realise that until a few hours ago you were a waitress yourself,’ he said harshly. ‘But do you have to be so friendly with the staff?’
Hurt flared in her eyes at the unwarranted rebuke, making them appear almost silver. ‘Good manners cost you nothing, Logan,’ she returned briskly. ‘Besides, why should I ruin his day, just because mine isn’t turning out to be so brilliant?’
‘Thanks,’ Logan said sarcastically.
Darcy sighed. Why was she even bothering to go through with this? Because she was still angry? Or because she wanted to see just how far Logan was willing to go in this charade? The latter, probably, she acknowledged heavily. But this whole situation was grating on her already frayed emotions.
‘Logan, exactly what is it you want from me?’ she demanded suddenly, giving up all pretence now of this being a pleasant lunch together. Not that it had ever been that in the first place—on either side!
Logan looked startled by the question, eyeing her warily. ‘What do you mean?’
She pursed her lips, her expression scathing. ‘Stop treating me like an idiot, Logan,’ she bit out disgustedly. ‘I mean, what do you, Margaret Fraser’s son, want from me?’ she challenged, her eyes gleaming silver once again.
She hadn’t been able to believe it this morning when, in the heat of their argument, her father had told her exactly who and what Logan McKenzie was, demanding to know what the two of them were plotting together.
At the time, she had even been too numbed by her father’s revelation to defend herself properly against those accusations…
Logan McKenzie was the son of that—that woman?
Incredible as it seemed to her, it appeared that was exactly what he was. The actress looked barely in her thirties herself, and yet she had a son aged in his mid-thirties. And her son was Logan McKenzie…
Darcy had thought him so understanding yesterday evening. Hey, she had even thanked him for being so kind to her!
He had kissed her too. Worse, she had kissed him back…!
But she now realised Logan had had his own reasons for being so nice to her, and those reasons involved his mother!
She felt so stupid now when she thought of all she had said to him, all the things she had confided in him.
But most of all, she was angry. Furiously so. Which was the reason she had decided to continue with the arrangement of meeting Logan for lunch today; she wanted the pleasure of telling him to his face exactly what she thought of him!
‘Well?’ she challenged again at his continued silence, her expression mutinous.
He drew in a ragged breath. ‘I’m not sure I know what to say…’ he finally admitted.
Darcy bridled. ‘An apology might not be amiss! What on earth you hoped to achieve by not telling me the truth from the beginning, I have no idea, but I can assure you that whatever it was you have failed miserably; nothing you could do or say would ever convince me to accept your mother marrying my father!’
She was breathing hard in her agitation, more angry with Logan McKenzie now than she was with her father. At least her father had been honest with her.
Logan frowned darkly. ‘Let me assure you, Darcy,’ he began, ‘I am no more enamoured by the idea of the two of them marrying than you are. Until you told me about their plans, I had no idea it was even a possibility!’
She didn’t believe him. He had to be fighting his mother’s corner. Besides, if what he claimed were really the case, once he’d become aware of the engagement, aware of her own aversion to the relationship, he had had plenty of opportunity to tell her the truth about his own relationship to Margaret Fraser. If he had wanted to. Which he obviously hadn’t.
Although, she did remember he had assured her that he didn’t believe any marriage between the older couple would ever take place…
‘My father, a mere restaurant owner, isn’t good enough for your mother, is that it?’ she retorted as the idea suddenly occurred to her, remembering that painting on the wall in Logan’s apartment of the castle that was the Scottish family home. The home where Margaret Fraser had probably been brought up.
Logan waved the waiter away impatiently as the young man would have brought their meals to the table. ‘Darcy—’
‘That is it, isn’t it?’ she accused incredulously as the idea began to take hold. ‘Exactly who do you think you are? More to the point, who do you think your mother is? Because from where I’m standing, she’s nothing more than a—’
‘Darcy!’ Logan’s voice was icily cold now, his expression glacial. ‘There’s nothing you could say about my mother that I haven’t already said or thought of her myself. But that doesn’t mean I’m willing to sit quietly by while someone else is rude and insulting about her!’
Darcy glared at him. ‘In that case, you must spend most of your life getting into fights or arguing with people; I haven’t met a single person yet with a nice thing to say about your mother!’
Logan’s mouth twisted. ‘Except your father, of course.’
‘He’s just besotted,’ she defended. ‘Knocked off his feet by the glamour that surrounds her.’ She shook her head. ‘I just hope he comes to his senses before he does something stupid—like marrying her!’
‘Oh, he will,’ Logan said grimly.
Darcy’s eyes gleamed angrily. ‘Because you intend seeing that he does,’ she guessed. ‘I don’t know which one of you I despise more—you or your mother!’
Logan’s throat moved convulsively. Whether from anger or some other emotion, Darcy couldn’t tell. And she didn’t particularly care, either.
‘I’ve had enough of this.’ She threw her unused napkin on the table before bending down to pick up her bag. ‘Enjoy your meal, Logan—both portions of it!’ She stood up to leave.
Logan’s hand snaked out and grasped her painfully around the wrist as she would have walked away, looking up at her with darkened blue eyes. ‘Darcy, I’m on your side—’
‘I don’t have a side, Logan,’ she assured him contemptuously. ‘Thanks to you and your mother, I don’t even have a home any more, either!’ Her voice broke slightly as she realised the truth of her words.
She mustn’t cry. She would not give Logan the satisfaction of seeing her cry again. As far as she was concerned she never wanted to set eyes on Logan, or his mother, ever again!
‘Let me go, Logan,’ she ordered coldly, looking down to where his fingers encircled the slenderness of her wrist.
‘And if I don’t?’ he challenged softly.
Her eyes returned slowly to the harsh arrogance of his face, her chin rising defiantly. ‘Then I’ll be forced to kick you in the shin,’ she told him with determination.
Darcy watched as some of the harshness left his face, to be replaced by what looked to her suspiciously like amusement. No doubt at what he considered to be the childishness of her claim, she realised.
It was the spur Darcy needed to carry out her threat, lifting her leg back before kicking forward with all the impotent rage that burned inside her, the pointed toe of her shoe making painful contact with Logan’s shin bone.
She knew it was painful—because of the way Logan cried out in surprise at the agony shooting up his leg!
But it had the desired effect; he let go of her wrist, to move his hand instinctively to his hurting shin.
‘Goodbye, Logan,’ Darcy told him with a pert smile of satisfaction, before turning on her heel and walking out through the restaurant, totally unconcerned with the curious looks that were being directed towards her, the confrontation not having passed unnoticed. Which wasn’t surprising, when Logan had actually yelled out his pain!
Her feelings of defiant satisfaction lasted until she got outside. They even lasted while she flagged down a taxi and got inside. It was only when the driver asked her where she wanted to go that her feelings of self-satisfied anger deflated.
Because, as of this morning, when she had told her father she was moving out of their home, she had nowhere to go…
CHAPTER FIVE
‘SHE hates my guts!’ Logan informed Fergus, his cousin having arrived at his office a few minutes ago. Logan hadn’t returned from the restaurant very long ago himself.
Fergus stayed perfectly relaxed as he sat opposite Logan. ‘I see you handled the situation with your usual tact and diplomacy,’ he drawled mockingly.
Logan scowled as he remembered Darcy’s earlier fury. In truth, he hadn’t had a chance to be either tactful or diplomatic—how could he have been when Darcy had already been well aware of exactly who he was when she’d joined him for lunch?
He had thought he’d had time to tell her the truth himself, but it should have occurred to him that her father, or someone else, might just drop that little bit of information into a conversation before the two of them had met today! No wonder Darcy had seemed different when she’d arrived at the restaurant!
He glowered across at Fergus. ‘I didn’t get a chance to handle anything—her father must have already told her I was Margaret Fraser’s son!’
‘Poor Logan.’ Fergus grinned, shaking his head.
‘You don’t know the half of it,’ he retorted.
‘No—but I’m hoping you’ll tell me,’ his cousin returned expectantly.
Because Logan needed to talk to someone, because, for once, he wasn’t sure what to do next, where Darcy was concerned—or if, indeed, he should do anything!—he told Fergus exactly what had transpired at the restaurant earlier.
‘And then she kicked me!’ he concluded slightly incredulously several minutes later.
Incredulous—because he hadn’t really thought she would carry out her threat. One thing he had definitely learned from this third meeting with Darcy—never underestimate her!
Logan was so lost in thought that for a couple of minutes he didn’t even notice the twitching of Fergus’s mouth, his cousin’s Herculean effort not to actually laugh. A fight he finally lost, bursting into loud laughter. At Logan’s expense.
‘She really kicked you?’ Fergus sobered enough to choke out. ‘In the middle of the restaurant?’
‘Actually it was in the middle of my shin,’ Logan replied succinctly. ‘And, yes, she kicked me; I have the bruise to prove it!’ Once out of the restaurant, sitting alone in the back of the taxi, he had had a chance to look at his leg; a purple bruise was already forming there.
‘Can I have a lo—No, perhaps not,’ Fergus amended as he saw Logan’s mutinous look. ‘I think I like the sound of your Darcy,’ he murmured appreciatively.
‘She isn’t my Darcy,’ Logan rasped, not even sure she would ever talk to him ever again.
Which was a pity. He could still remember how good she had felt in his arms when he’d kissed her the evening before—
Forget it, Logan, he instructed himself sternly. There were too many complications attached to being attracted to Darcy Simon. Complications he intended dealing with at the earliest opportunity.
‘So what happens now?’ Fergus seemed to guess at least some of his thoughts.
Logan pondered awhile. ‘A meeting with my mother,’ he bit out with obvious reluctance.
His cousin looked surprised. ‘Will that do any good?’
‘Probably not,’ Logan conceded. ‘But it might make me feel better. These are good people she’s playing around with.’ He paused, then went on, ‘Daniel Simon was recently widowed; he doesn’t need someone like my mother messing up his life.’
‘Hmm.’ Fergus looked thoughtful. ‘I wonder—’ He broke off as the door opened after the briefest of knocks.
Talk of the devil—!
Logan’s gaze narrowed as his mother walked unannounced into the room, as beautiful as ever in a fitted black suit and vibrant red blouse.
‘Karen told me you were closeted in here with Fergus,’ she said, closing the door behind her.
Fergus had stood up at his aunt’s entrance, glancing across frowningly at Logan’s set expression as he made no effort to do likewise. ‘I was just on my way to see Brice.’ He moved to kiss Logan’s mother lightly on the cheek. ‘Bye, Aunt Meg. Logan,’ he added evenly.
Logan ignored the warning note in his cousin’s voice; he had no intention of pulling any verbal punches where his mother was concerned.
‘Do stop scowling, Logan,’ his mother snapped impatiently once they were alone, a frown marring the creaminess of her brow. ‘I know I don’t usually call on you here, but I’ve come to ask you for advice—’
‘Ask me for advice?’ he said incredulously; this wasn’t what he had been expecting at all.
Not that he had expected to see his mother here in the first place; if the two of them ever did meet, it was usually by accident and not design. As in the restaurant yesterday evening…
She gave him an irritated look as she sat down in the chair Fergus had so recently vacated, crossing one shapely knee over the other. ‘You seem to be on friendly terms with Darcy—’
‘Correction, Mother, I was on friendly terms with Darcy,’ Logan cut in coldly, having physical evidence to prove that friendship was a thing of the past! ‘Before she realised I was your son. Or do I mean before she realised you were my mother? Same thing, I suppose,’ he ruminated. ‘The end result is that Darcy no longer sees me as a friend.’ Or anything else. And it was amazing how much more that pained him than the bruise on his leg!
‘I see,’ his mother said. ‘What am I going to do, Logan?’ She gave a confused sigh.
Logan couldn’t hide his surprise. This was something new; his mother had never asked for his opinion—on anything!—before…
‘About what?’ he prompted harshly.
‘Darcy, of course,’ she returned. ‘Do try not to be obtuse, Logan,’ she admonished. ‘I’m sure you are well aware by now of my engagement to Daniel Simon. Darcy’s father.’
‘I believe someone did mention it to me, yes,’ he drawled.
His mother’s eyes flashed deeply blue, two wings of angry colour in her cheeks. ‘If you ever showed an interest in me or my life, Logan, then I would have told you myself! But as you don’t…’ She drew in a ragged breath.
‘Last night you gave the impression you had no idea who Darcy was,’ Logan said questioningly.
‘Well, of course the two of us have never met, but I guessed who she was last night,’ his mother retorted. ‘I was merely trying to avoid a scene in the restaurant. You see, Darcy doesn’t like the idea of her father marrying me—’
‘I wonder why.’ He couldn’t resist his taunting reply.
His mother gave him a considering look. ‘You know, Logan, you were a lovely little boy, so loving and caring. What happened to change that?’
Logan could see, by the genuine puzzlement on her face, that she really wanted to know. Incredible!
‘Life, Mother,’ he bit out economically. ‘Yours,’ he added hardly as she would have spoken.
She shook her head. ‘I can’t believe that after all these years—Logan, I know I’ve made mistakes in the past—’
‘Mistakes!’ Now he did stand up, moving impatiently to the coffee machine that stood on a sidetable, pouring himself a cup of the dark steaming brew. ‘Your life has had all the stability of a helter-skelter! And during the early years, after my father died, when I wasn’t old enough to have a say in things, you took me along for the ride!’ he concluded disgustedly.
His mother’s eyes, as she looked up at him, flooded with sudden tears, and she suddenly looked very tiny, and slightly vulnerable. Strange, he had never seen her in quite that light before…
No! His mother was a consummate actress—she had made a living the last thirty years, both on and off screen, with that acting! He must not be taken in and manipulated by the role she apparently saw herself in now.
‘I know I was far from the perfect mother to you, Logan, after your father died,’ she began huskily. ‘But I just missed him so much—’
‘I missed him too,’ Logan told her coldly.
‘I know,’ she acknowledged shakily. ‘I do know, Logan,’ she insisted as he would have protested. ‘But it isn’t the same. I had lost the man I loved. I was lost, seemed to lose all direction in my life. I—I made a mistake when I married again, I know that,’ she admitted. ‘But I was lonely, and—There’s nothing I can do or say now that will take away the past. It’s the future we have to look to now.’
Logan looked down at her. This really was a different role for her. His mother had never spoken to him in this way before, never confided in him in this way. And he wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it.
‘Whose future are we talking about, Mother?’ he queried. ‘Yours or mine?’
She looked back up at him, her gaze unwavering. ‘I love Daniel Simon,’ she told him quietly. ‘He’s the first and only man I have loved since I lost your father. And I would like to marry him.’
Logan shrugged. ‘The last I heard, that’s exactly what you intend doing!’
She shook her head. ‘Not without Darcy’s approval.’
His mouth quirked. ‘Again, the last I heard—and she didn’t exactly use these words, you understand?—there was about as much chance of Darcy giving her blessing to her father marrying you as there is of hell freezing over!’
‘I know,’ his mother agreed dully.
Logan gave her a probing look, still unsure of her in this mood. Usually his mother gave the impression she was totally in control of her world, and the people in it. Perhaps that was the trouble this time…?
‘Dear, dear, Mother, don’t tell me that you aren’t more than capable of talking Daniel Simon round to your way of thinking?’ he taunted. Goodness knew there were very few men who could resist his mother’s brand of charm!
‘You just don’t understand, do you, Logan?’ His mother shook her head sadly as she returned his gaze unblinkingly. ‘Daniel is all for going ahead with the marriage, and dealing with Darcy’s feelings later; I’m the one who won’t go ahead with the wedding without his daughter’s approval. It’s no way to begin our married life together, and I will not come between father and daughter.’
Now Logan was really puzzled. Could it be, could it really be, that his mother really did love Daniel Simon, that she was putting someone else’s happiness above her own…? It would be the first time!
His mother gave a shy smile at his obviously stunned expression. ‘Not exactly the way you see me, is it, Logan?’ she ventured ruefully. ‘Maybe if we had been closer the last twenty years or so—’
‘As you are well aware, Mother, I despised Malcolm Slater, the man you chose to marry after my father died, preferred to live with Grandfather rather than with you and him,’ he revealed with distaste.
‘I despised Malcolm myself by the time we were divorced,’ she admitted.
Logan was surprised. ‘You did?’
His mother gave a wistful smile. ‘I did. Mainly because I lost my son during the five years we were married. Logan, why do you think I feel so strongly about having Darcy’s approval to her father marrying me? It’s because I know how it feels to lose your child in those circumstances,’ she continued firmly. ‘I lost you for that very reason, because of the way you felt about Malcolm,’ she said emotionally. ‘And although it may be too late to do anything to salvage our own relationship, I won’t do that to Daniel and Darcy!’
Logan stared at his mother, wondering, just wondering, if he could have been wrong about her all these years…
She looked at him with unwavering blue eyes. ‘I need your help, Logan. I need you to help me persuade Darcy that I really do love her father, that I intend making him happy. Will you help me?’
Would he?
Wasn’t his mother, a woman he had kept at an emotional distance for more years than he cared to think about, asking him to take on the role Darcy had already cast him in at lunch-time—that of championing his mother?
Did he really want to champion his mother? Could he believe the things she was saying to him?
More to the point, didn’t Darcy already hate him enough…?
‘Call for you, Darcy,’ her grandmother called up the stairs.
A call for her…?
Who from? Apart from her father, no one else knew she had been staying with her maternal grandmother the last couple of days; and her father only knew because her grandmother had thought she ought to tell him.
Again, it was only a temporary arrangement, Darcy having found an apartment to rent that very afternoon. Unfortunately the current tenant wasn’t moving out until next week.
She ran down the stairs to pick up the receiver in the hallway. ‘Yes?’ she prompted warily.
‘Darcy,’ Logan McKenzie greeted with satisfaction. ‘You’re a very difficult young lady to track down.’
Darcy had stiffened as soon as she’d recognised his voice, her hand tightly gripping the receiver. ‘Why did you bother?’ she returned coldly.
‘I thought you might be interested to know that I’m in hospital with a broken shin-bone,’ he came back mildly.
‘You’re what?’ she gasped, remembering all too vividly the way she had kicked him on the leg at the restaurant two days ago.
‘That got your attention anyway.’ He chuckled. ‘Actually…’ he sobered ‘…I exaggerated slightly.’
‘How slightly?’ Darcy ventured warily.
‘I’m not in hospital. And my shin-bone isn’t broken.’
‘In other words, it was a total lie!’ Darcy came back disgustedly.
‘Fabrication,’ he corrected smoothly. ‘It isn’t nice to call someone a liar, Darcy.’
‘Logan,’ she sighed wearily, ‘what do you want?’
‘To have dinner with you this evening,’ he returned lightly.
She was taken aback at the unexpected invitation. ‘Why?’
‘You really are the most suspicious young lady!’ he opined dryly. ‘Why not?’
The reasons for that were too numerous to go into. And some of them were reasons she couldn’t possibly tell Logan! As in, she found him too disturbingly attractive. As in, she dared not run the risk of having him kiss her again. As in—
‘Oh, come on, Darcy,’ he cajoled at her continued silence. ‘It’s only dinner.’
Only dinner…
But what were the implications behind the invitation? What was it supposed to achieve? Because she had no doubts that under ordinary circumstances—such as his mother not being about to marry her father!—Logan would never have thought of asking her out to dinner! He must already be aware, she had no influence with her father whatsoever!
‘Logan, my father is a grown man, an adult, perfectly capable of making his own choices and decisions without any help from me,’ she told him decisively.