Kitabı oku: «Sweet Lies», sayfa 2

‘He’s my son,’ she managed at last, though her voice was a thin whisper of despair. His grip tightened at her words but he remained absolutely silent, his body rigid with tension. Megan knew he was fighting some inner doubt and she waited, mentally praying for her escape.

‘I didn’t know you had a child.’ His voice was a harsh whisper, as if some sharp pain was trapped in his throat. Megan looked at him anxiously, her whole body trembling as she watched his gaze switch swiftly back to Luke, staring at him with an intensity that unnerved her. She silently prayed over and over again that soon she would be free. The last thing she wanted was for Luke to find out the truth. Their relationship was already on thin ice at the moment. She had only recently heard the painful longing in his voice when he spoke of the father he had never known.

‘And the father?’ he drawled, his eyes darting back to hers and fixing on her with an icy intent. Megan felt a flush of colour to her face as she struggled to keep her emotions under control. She normally deftly avoided any questions, but she knew Darrow would not be so easily swayed.

‘Karl Meyer, my husband,’ she retorted, her voice growing stronger as she trotted out the well-worn lie. A lie she had been forced to invent to protect herself and her son against the pain of his rejection. Darrow’s eyebrow’s lifted slightly, his mouth thinning to an angry line.

‘And where’s Karl now?’ he demanded, the self-assurance in his voice irritating her more than she was willing to admit, even to herself.

‘My husband died several years ago,’ Megan replied frostily, hating the intrusion into her private life. He had given up his rights to that with his betrayal.

‘And he is your only child?’ he asked, a tightness in his voice as he looked deep into her eyes, and Megan quickly lowered her long lashes over her eyes to prevent him from seeing the truth that she knew she would be unable to hide from him.

‘Yes.’ Megan forced a smile, though her insides were churning with despair. Was he jealous or merely curious? she wondered, a sudden ache piercing her heart.

‘He doesn’t look like you…’

‘No,’ snapped Megan quickly. ‘He takes after his father.’ Her eyes couldn’t quite meet his as she replied.

‘Are you coming?’ Luke’s voice was sharp as he turned back, glaring at them both with obvious disapproval. Megan gave an apologetic smile to Darrow, but he seemed unperturbed by Luke’s rude outburst and strolled over to meet him. Luke watched his approach with caution, his face sulky, the silence only adding to the tense atmosphere. Darrow broke the silence with his customary ease, as if oblivious to the tension between the mother and her child.

‘My name is Darrow,’ he offered, his voice firm, full of authority. He stretched out his hand, his gesture more one of challenge than friendship, and Megan mentally prayed that Luke would respond. For a moment she thought her prayers had been wasted and her heart shrank within her as a sudden shaft of piercing pain seared through her. For a brief moment she thought her heart would break in two; just seeing them together held a bittersweet pain. ‘I’m an old friend of your mother’s,’ he continued, taking Luke’s hand in a firm grasp. ‘I was trying to persuade her to have dinner with me this evening.’

‘She can if she wants,’ muttered Luke, trying to sound careless, yet suddenly he seemed so vulnerable to Megan and her heart went out to him. The mask of manhood that he tried so hard to wear often slipped.

‘I had no idea she had to have your permission,’ drawled Darrow, with a friendly smile, but it was not returned. Luke was unable to match Darrow and did not know how to respond.

Megan joined them, part of her wanting them to at least like each other. Her eyes darted frantically from Luke to Darrow, sensing their disapproval of one another, and her heart slowly sank within her. It had been a fleeting dream that they had both shattered.

‘I knew Darrow a long time ago, Luke,’ Megan explained breathlessly, the pain catching in her throat at the obvious antipathy. Luke nodded in acknowledgement but said nothing; his eyes were fixed on Darrow with deep interest and suspicion.

‘Come on, we’d best get settled in,’ cajoled Megan, tossing the keys in her hand in a carefree gesture that was far removed from her true feelings. She knew now that her return was on a disaster course, but she was powerless to do anything about it. She turned as she opened the door to allow Luke to leave, then she turned back to Darrow, and forced her voice to sound light, almost friendly.

‘It was nice to see you again, Darrow.’ Her cool tone did not betray the turmoil of emotions that were twirling around inside. ‘Perhaps we’ll meet again some time,’ she added, confident that she would not see him again, and yet that caused a sharp pain deep down inside.

Darrow’s mouth widened into a perfect smile, triumph curling the corners of his sensuous mouth as he viewed Megan with a cool air of superiority. Megan shuddered as her eyes rose to his, trying to fathom where his amusement came from and not trusting him an inch. She knew him too well to be fooled by his casual stance. His hand rested on the door-handle, opening it still wider to allow her to leave.

‘No doubt we will,’ he agreed, in a smoky voice that put Megan on edge, every nerve in her body suddenly alerted to some hidden danger.

‘What do you mean?’ she breathed raggedly, hating the storm of emotion that was sweeping through her body. His smile twisted in cruelty and his eyebrows rose in mockery; a rumble of laughter sounded deep in his chest.

‘You mean you really don’t know?’ he asked in disbelief, the mocking light in his eyes holding her trapped, unable to move.

‘Know? Know what?’ demanded Megan, a spiral of fear twisting up her spine and a cold dread seeping over her trembling frame.

Darrow inclined his head backwards. ‘This is mine—my hotel, my complex.’ The cold, proud possession in his voice confirmed what he was saying, and Megan gasped in horror.

‘Yours?’ she whispered in disbelief, hoping for a denial and yet already knowing it was the truth. Her heart shrank within her. She had been such a fool, allowing the travel agent to make all the arrangements. She would have certainly noticed the name of the proprietor, and never would even have dreamt of coming here, and now it was too late. She knew there was little chance of accommodation anywhere else in peak season, and besides, she didn’t want to give him the impression that his presence made any difference to her.

‘Yes, Megan, mine,’ he replied in a controlled voice, but Megan could see the malice in the depths of his ruthless eyes. ‘I told you I’d make it one day.’ The coldness of his attitude frightened her; his face had become distorted with anger and hate. ‘It’s a pity you couldn’t have kept your promise and waited for me,’ he snarled, the bitter rage spilling out, and Megan flinched at the anger in his tone.

She felt her anger flare up inside her and she tried hard to control her temper. Her fists tightened into balls of rage as she glared back at him, unable to comprehend the injustice of his remark. ‘I’m so pleased you’ve been successful,’ she admitted, resenting the sacrifices she had made to make him a success.

‘Are you?’ he mocked, his expression challenging, but his voice was flat.

‘Of course I am,’ she said with forced brightness, as a sharp pain of regret fleetingly touched her deeply, and yet it was the truth. It made it all worthwhile. It justified her deceit, vanquished any last doubts she had had. All the lies, her struggles, the loneliness of her life now made sense, and yet a sting of bitterness cut into her as she remembered all the hardships she had faced alone just so he could fulfil his ambition.

He had always been ambitious; Rannaleigh had never seemed big enough to contain him. He had loved the idea of America—the size, the challenge, the thought of being a success in a big way through his writing. Megan had known that until he tried he would never be satisfied, so she had given him his freedom, expecting his return, but then she had lost him forever to someone else.

‘You don’t look it.’ Darrow noted, inclining his head closer to hers so he could get an even clearer view of her troubled expression.

‘I’m sorry, I was thinking of something else,’ Megan confessed, her mind coming back to the present with difficulty as the familiar smell of his aftershave filled her senses. His dark eyes fixed on her, studying her closely for a moment.

‘Thinking what a foolish mistake you made running off and marrying someone else instead of waiting for me?’ he jeered cruelly, seeming oblivious to the sorrow growing in her misty eyes.

Megan reached out and touched his arm. The smooth cloth of his expensive suit could not hide the hard ripple of tension that ran the length of his arm. ‘It wasn’t like that…’ she protested, shocked by the cruelty of his words.

‘Wasn’t it?’

‘Darrow, please…’ she began, suddenly wanting to explain, regardless of his reaction and despite the terrible repercussions it would cause in her own life.

He pulled back, his body as tense as an over-strung violin, and with a harsh expression that barely concealed how much he despised her. His face was set in sharp, rigid lines, grim and furious, and his eyes were as black and as bitter as over-stewed coffee.

Megan stepped back, fearful of the anger and hate that crackled beneath his thin veneer of control.

‘Darrow, please,’ he mocked back, imitating her voice roughly. ‘The truth hurts, does it?’ he sneered, allowing her to feel the weight of his full contempt.

‘Truth? Truth?’ she repeated, matching his anger with her own. ‘What would you know of truth?’ she flung back at him.

Megan pulled away from him and rushed out of the door, hot, salty tears splashing down her face at the injustice of it all. She knew she shouldn’t have come back.

CHAPTER TWO

MEGAN rubbed the back of her hand over her face in an attempt to erase the sorrow from her face. She couldn’t allow Luke to see her distress. He was far too astute and was bound to question her until she told him the whole story, and that she could never do. It would be a total betrayal of their lives together.

‘Who’s he?’ Luke snapped as she slid into the car beside him, shoving the papers from the receptionist on to his lap and starting the engine immediately.

‘Darrow Maine,’ Megan answered abruptly, a rasp burning the back of her throat as she struggled to keep her emotions under control. ‘An old friend,’ she added, hopeful that that piece of information would be all he required.

‘I see,’ he mumbled, too engrossed in the papers to notice the fearful glance his mother flicked to him as she caught the undercurrent in his tone. Megan felt herself forced to say more. It was inevitable that they would bump into Darrow and she wanted their meetings to be as uneventful as possible.

‘He owns the hotel and complex,’ she explained as she craned her neck to see the names that were painted on small posts along the roadside. She carefully steered the car into the space next to their lodge, flicking off the engine with a weary sigh.

‘Does he?’ Luke asked with interest as he opened the car door. ‘He must be loaded.’

‘Does everything nowadays have to be valued on monetary worth?’ Megan retorted, exasperated by her son’s apparent obsession with material wealth and desperately wondering if she had failed him in some way. They seemed slowly to be drifting apart, and Megan was determined to stop the slow deterioration of their relationship. She had struggled too hard for too long on her own to let it just fade away. It had been one long struggle bringing up a child alone, trying to make ends meet on the meagre amount she managed to earn. She pulled their luggage from the boot, offering him the cases which he accepted with a grin.

‘What other type of value is there?’ he asked, ducking as Megan took a friendly swoop at his head. ‘Come on we’d best unpack something, even if it’s only something for tonight.’ He laughed as Megan locked the car.

‘Tonight?’ Megan asked, a frisson of alarm racing down her spine as she caught the excitement in his tone.

‘Yes, had you not been so engrossed in conversation you would have seen the posters,’ he informed her as they entered their lodge. He dropped the luggage immediately, racing over to the patio doors and pulling them open with enthusiasm. ‘Hey, get a look at this view,’ he called, his eyes scanning over the flat mirror of water and the range of mountains that rose up as a backdrop.

‘What posters?’ Megan asked anxiously as she joined him on the patio, leaning on the wall and soaking in the beautiful scene that eased her troubled soul. She wrapped a protective arm over his shoulders and he leant against her.

Megan’s heart filled with emotion. This holiday was so important after the strain of this last year. It was a chance for them to be together again without the distractions of work, and Megan was determined that it would help to heal the rift that was growing between them. He needed to build up his confidence again as it had taken such a bad knock since his illness.

‘It’s all there.’ Luke jerked his head to the disarray of papers that he had dropped to the floor, scattering them everywhere. ‘Party-time starts at eight o’clock prompt, and I get the impression that Darrow Maine would not like to be kept waiting,’ he concluded, moving back into the large lounge with Megan following with a sinking heart.

‘You want to go, do you?’ she asked, forcing a brighter tone into her voice and suffocating her sense of desperation. She picked up the papers and pushed them back into a neat pile, her heart already thudding out a death-knell at his anticipated answer.

‘Dead right I do,’ he answered quickly. ‘They’re going to tell us what’s on offer and I want to know,’ he said, snatching up his own cases. ‘It’s about time I took up sport seriously again. I’m not even on the first team any more. Don’t you want to go?’ he asked, stopping to await her answer. A frown of disappointment was forming over his bright eyes.

‘Of course,’ she replied brightly, flashing him a smile and forcing her personal doubts from her mind. She couldn’t bear to disappoint Luke. They depended on one another so much, their relationship all the more intense because they had only ever had each other. Megan had had a couple of boyfriends, but no one could ever match Darrow or come between her and Luke. This was their holiday, a much deserved rest, and she knew how much he wanted to get back on the school’s first team, and no one, not even Darrow Maine, was going to spoil his chance of that.

Megan’s eyes quickly darted around the room. It was filled with a mixture of people, young and old, sporty types and the more sedate, but thankfully there was no trace of Darrow. She sank gratefully into a Victorian tub chair that had been carefully restored and reupholstered in a tartan fabric that matched the heavy curtains and swags decorating the expansive windows which gave a unique view of the rolling hills and the lake below. Luke had disappeared immediately after collecting her a glass of the delicate sparkling wine that was being offered to all guests.

‘I’ve just found a fantastic computer-room,’ he said, rushing back with a wicked grin, and Megan raised her eyebrows in despair. There was little chance of seeing him again for some time, she thought, taking a sip of her wine and nodding her approval as he disappeared again.

‘Can I tempt you?’ Darrow raised an oval platter of canapés towards Megan, taking her by surprise. Her heart thudded rapidly before settling back into a steady rhythm.

‘I’d love one,’ she agreed, suddenly feeling hungry and delighting in the selection she was being offered. ‘I had no idea you acted as waiter as well,’ she joked lightly, sensing that his gesture was meant as an attempt at goodwill.

‘I don’t normally, but I thought I would make an exception in your case.’ His voice was low and warm and she treasured the sound of it. Megan glanced up and his dark eyes held her.

‘Why?’

‘I’m sorry about before. It just came as a shock—you, married.’

‘I did write and tell you I was considering Karl’s proposal,’ she replied lightly. She had hoped for a different response but he had not even bothered to reply to her letter, which had only served to confirm her fears that he had found someone else.

‘And with a son,’ he continued, unaware of her words. His smile faded slightly and a cold chill swept over her, but she nodded, trying to simplify the hundreds of questions that churned over and over in her mind. She tilted back her chin, not wanting to give the impression that she cared.

‘You never married, then?’ she asked.

Her heart skipped a beat as she waited for his answer, preparing to hear for herself the confirmation that he had betrayed their love.

‘Never.’

It wasn’t the answer she had expected. It was like a sharp slap in the face and shock was quickly replaced by anger.

‘Not married!’ she exclaimed, more angry with herself than him. It was so unfair.

‘I nearly took the plunge,’ he said calmly, unaware of the searing, heated anger that tore through her body. All her noble sacrifices had been a waste, she thought. She was just the first, no doubt, in a long line of foolish women who had thought he was capable of commitment. She tried vainly to appear indifferent to this revelation but she was burning with curiosity and fury. She had been told by his mother, Janet, that he was having a serious relationship. She had told her clearly that marriage was round the corner, and Megan hadn’t had the confidence to question her. She’d felt so foolish. Megan recalled how she had feigned indifference to the news although her heart had been breaking. Had it all been lies? She had to know.

‘Cold feet?’ She tried to keep her voice light and joky, but she had been a victim of his sense of humour and her amusement was hollow. He shrugged.

‘In a way. I just realised it would have been a mistake, so I called it off.’

‘I see.’

Megan didn’t want to probe any deeper. For some reason the thought of him caring for someone else hurt her more deeply than she was prepared to admit, even to herself.

‘Your marriage was happy?’ he commented, his voice strained but cool, and Megan felt the familiar panic that rose in her chest whenever her marriage was mentioned. She kept her lids lowered over her startled eyes to prevent him from seeing the truth she knew would be shining there.

‘Yes, very,’ she told him, hoping, for some reason, that he would be hurt by her words. As she cast a covert glance at his face she saw a flicker of emotion there, but she knew it was pure fantasy to imagine it was jealousy.

‘It must have been very hard to lose someone you loved,’ he said, with such deep understanding that Megan felt a momentary guilt at her deceit.

‘It was,’ she admitted truthfully, but it was not Karl she was thinking of.

‘How did your son react?’ he asked, his voice strangely soft and soothing, and Megan glanced up, surprised by his interest.

‘He never knew his father,’ she said quickly, her eyes darting to his. It wasn’t a lie. She would do everything in her power to ensure that Luke never knew the truth. It would be far too painful for both of them. Megan had never told Luke that Karl was his father—it was one lie she had known she couldn’t live with—but she had not denied it either. Luke had grown up with the idea that his father was dead, and though Megan had longed to tell the truth she was afraid of the emotional damage it might cause.

‘He doesn’t look like you. Does he take after his father?’ he asked, picking up a tiny, delicate blini topped with smoked salmon. It was a casual enough question, but Megan cursed the emotion his query was stirring within her.

‘As he grows older, he looks more like his father,’ she confessed.

She wanted to tell him about his son, longed to tell him, but she knew she couldn’t. The web of lies she had carefully spun for Luke must remain intact. She would not allow her child to feel the pain of rejection she had been subjected to. He reached out, wrapping his strong, warm hand over hers, squeezing it gently.

‘I’m sorry. It must be hard for you.’

‘No, I’m just being silly,’ she said quickly, fully aware of the heat from his hand that was slowly permeating her body. She felt her heart race at his familiar touch and she stared at his hand, looking at the dark mat of hairs that criss-crossed his hand with intensity. She was so sensitive to him that it frightened her. For once, after so many years, she felt alive again, every nerve in her body tingling with anticipation.

‘My Meg, my poor Meg,’ he crooned softly, stroking his slender fingers across her gently trembling hand. Her response was a soft, almost soundless laugh as she withdrew her hand from his. She was afraid of the sharp tug of attraction he was arousing in her and the intimate use of their childhood name for her.

‘Poor!’ She laughed hollowly. ‘No, Darrow, my days of poverty are over.’

His eyes narrowed as he studied her, his expression hardening to granite.

‘You’re still poor Megan. You always will be till you learn true values.’ He bit out the words, his anger spilling out in the bitter blue-blackness of his eyes.

‘I know this, Darrow. It’s easy to appreciate the finer things in life when you don’t have to worry about the basics. I’ve struggled to achieve what I have now, and believe me there is no dignity in poverty. So don’t preach to me about being poor in spirit till you have experienced it for yourself,’ she threw back at him, hating his condescending attitude.

‘What a change. I never saw you as a material girl,’ he jeered, shocked by the change in her. ‘I thought it odd that you were unable to make it to your mother’s funeral. You’re obviously able to come now. No doubt it was the will that brought you back.’

Megan was about to protest her innocence, but her words died on her lips. She could not reveal the real reason why she had missed the funeral as just then Luke returned.

‘Hello, Luke. Did you win?’ she asked, realising immediately that she did not have his attention.

‘You do everything, don’t you?’ he asked Darrow with obvious enthusiasm. ‘I’ve been talking to Suzie.’ Megan saw the light of admiration glowing in her son’s eyes and sighed inwardly. The last thing she needed was a bad case of hero-worship; the situation was difficult enough as it was.

‘Whatever do you mean, Luke?’ She laughed as he drew up a chair between them and picked up three different canapés, ignoring Megan’s disapproving frown with customary ease. He popped two immediately in his mouth, nodding in approval and swallowing quickly in order to explain.

‘River-rafting, abseiling, canoeing, skiing.’ He paused to pick up another canapé and Megan gave his hand a sharp tap. Luke flashed Darrow a grin, and the easy bond that seemed to have sprung between them pierced Megan’s heart.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’ he asked, hardly waiting for Darrow to answer.

‘No not all. Help yourself.’

Luke’s grin broadened at his words; he was clearly delighting in the camaraderie.

‘I’d love to try everything. Do you instruct, Mr…?’

‘Darrow. Everyone calls me Darrow.’

‘Darrow,’ repeated Luke, enjoying the adult approach Darrow was taking with him. Megan twisted the stem of her wine glass, trying to remain indifferent to their close proximity and easy conversation. She watched them both with nervous expectation, a chill spiralling down her spine as she caught the close scrutiny Darrow was subjecting Luke to. His dark eyes were assessing Luke very closely indeed, and a tremor of apprehension vibrated through her body.

‘Luke, fetch me another glass of wine, would you?’ she asked. She had sounded abrupt and for a moment Luke looked confused, though he immediately responded by taking up her empty glass.

‘I guess you two want to talk alone,’ he said, making an exaggerated wink as he looked at Darrow, whose face broke out into a wide smile. Megan felt a warm flush of pink cover her cheeks and her eyes darted quickly from Luke to Darrow as a denial leapt swiftly to her lips.

‘No, not at all.’

For a few moments after Luke had left silence fell between them. Megan glanced up, a wave of nausea seeping over her as she watched Darrow’s eyes follow Luke’s disappearing body. At last he had noticed, seen a trace of himself in the boy, and the thought flooded her with a mixture of feelings—delight and despair.

‘I don’t think he’ll be able to do all the activities,’ he informed her crisply, turning his attention back to her, and Megan immediately tensed. Afraid to look at him, Megan stared down at the table, stroking her fingers restlessly over a drip-mat.

‘We are booked in for over a fortnight. Ample time, I would have thought…’ she began, her voice strangely breathless as she awaited his condemnation of her keeping his son to herself.

‘It wasn’t the time factor I was referring to.’

There was a note of challenge in his voice that drew her gaze back to his, and his expression showed a smooth, worldly wisdom.

‘Then what?’ demanded Megan, suddenly defensive, her nerves tensing at his poker-faced expression which warned her that more was to come.

‘He just doesn’t look well enough,’ he said matter-of-factly, but Megan sensed a criticism in his tone and her own feelings of insecurity immediately surfaced. She so desperately wanted him to be well. It was so very difficult being a one-parent family, trying hard to be both mother and father. She had tried to encourage him towards sporting activities but his enforced rest period had left him a little weaker than usual.

‘Looks can be deceptive,’ she retorted, angry with herself that he was evoking in her such a sense of over-protectiveness.

‘I’m not suggesting he doesn’t try some of the activities out, but—’

‘I think I’m the best judge of what my son is capable of,’ Megan cut in, furious by his lack of natural response to his own son, angered that he could not see himself mirrored in Luke’s frame, waiting to grow into a strong, capable man.

‘Oh, God, you’re not one of those pushy mothers who insist on over-compensating for the lack of a father?’ He grinned, unaware of the depth of pain he was causing her or how near the truth he might have touched.

‘It’s not a case of that. I just think you’re making an incorrect judgement merely because of his looks,’ she countered. The tone of conversation was swiftly changing to one of confrontation but she felt as if she was on a roller-coaster, thundering down a track, out of control.

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Why on earth should I do that?’ he demanded, and Megan instantly tensed as his dark eyes narrowed on her. Megan felt her face redden as she realised that it was her own sensitivity to the situation that was causing the problem. She was reading far too much into his words.

‘Look, I’m sure that Luke will be sensible enough to make his own choices,’ she said briefly, hoping to draw a close over that line of conversation. She didn’t want to talk about Luke; it was far too dangerous.

Darrow leant across the table, pushing to one side the half-empty platter of food in a gesture of annoyance. He flexed his shoulders as he drew closer and Megan again caught the teasing scent of his masculine aftershave.

‘How old is he?’ he snapped, staring across the table at her, his expression devoid of emotion.

Megan didn’t answer—couldn’t answer. She felt trapped, as if he had carefully laid the bait and like a fool she had fallen for it. She could hear her heart thudding painfully against her constricting chest and she dropped her gaze, unable to confront the steel in his eyes.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said airily, unaware of the huge sigh of relief that silently escaped Megan’s lips. ‘The fact remains that he has a dull complexion and his eyes look heavy-lidded. He looks unwell…’

Megan’s eyes flew to his, anger flaring in the cool green.

‘That’s not a criticism, Megan, merely an observation,’ he countered immediately, seeing her reaction but refusing to acknowledge it fully. He still wanted to make his point, regardless of how she felt about it. ‘I was scrawny myself at that age, but he looks tired and drawn,’ he admitted, which only served to twist the knife deeper into her unhealed heart. ‘To take on all the activities available would be asking for trouble. One needs to build up stamina over a period of time.’

‘I see,’ Megan replied, too quickly, though she did agree. She could see that what he was saying made sense but she knew Luke’s stubborn determination—a characteristic from his father, she mused. She was not prepared to ruin her chances of strengthening their relationship by refusing to allow him to do exactly what he wanted. It still hurt more deeply than she wanted to admit that she felt Luke was outgrowing her. Besides, she reassured herself, Luke was stronger than he appeared. Even the doctors had agreed with that, amazed at his quick recovery.

‘Do you?’ His voice was cold, cutting into her with icy precision. ‘I doubt that. You’re fit and healthy, busy running a health club, a sick child would hardly be an ideal advertisement.’

‘What do you mean by that?’ Megan shot back.

‘I think you’ve been either too busy to notice or deliberately blind to the fact…’ he began to explain, his voice cold and detached.

‘How dare you?’ stormed Megan, her surprise matched only by her anger at his unfair remarks.

‘I dare for this reason, Megan. I have a one hundred percent accident-free record here and I plan on keeping it that way,’ he snarled, gripping her wrist in a painful clasp. ‘I can’t afford parents who refuse to see their own offspring’s limitations, pushing them beyond their capabilities. It’s dangerous and unforgivable.’