Emma Darcy - Their Wedding Day

Looking back over the past year, Rowena had to acknowledge their marriage had become rather flat and routine. But surely every relationship had its highs and lows. It was a matter of working at it, being committed, trying to make it as good as it could be. Both parties were responsible for that. She didn’t understand why this was happening to her. What had she done that was so wrong?

The sound of the office door opening snapped her mind to the immediate present. Keir returning, having summoned the woman she would soon be facing. He looked so big and powerful, a rock to lean on, and Rowena ached for the support that his caring seemed to offer, yet she knew she couldn’t afford to let Keir close to her. It could only muddle everything far more than it was already muddled.

Keir didn’t know he had left her pregnant eleven years ago. He knew nothing of the son she had given birth to nine months after the fatal accident that had destroyed so much. She had come to believe he didn’t want to know, long before she had married Phil.

Whether that was true or not, it was not possible to change the course of events that had taken place. Phil had legally adopted Jamie. To all intents and purposes, Phil was Jamie’s father. It was best for everyone if it stayed that way.

Nevertheless, Rowena allowed herself the indulgence of really studying Keir for the few seconds it took him to walk down the room, noting the likenesses to her son… his son.

Deeply socketed eyes, although Jamie’s irises were hazel, a mixture of her green and Keir’s brown. The hairline was strikingly similar with a cowlick at the left temple. Jamie’s upper lip was softer, fuller, more like hers, and the shape of his face was rounder, less hard-boned. Perhaps as Jamie got older, his jawline would firm into the same mould as Keir’s, but that was not obvious yet.

Her gaze skated down the perfectly tailored grey business suit to the stylish leather shoes on Keir’s feet, feet she knew had longer second toes than the big ones. The mark of a fast runner, Keir had laughingly told her. Jamie had them, too, and he was the best sprinter in his age group at school.

“Rowena…”

She sighed and lifted her gaze.

“Would you like coffee brought in?”

She shook her head.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“No. I’m grateful to you for this chance to get things straightened out, Keir. This is all I want. I won’t be making a nuisance of myself.”

“I’d never consider you a nuisance, Rowena,” he said seriously.

“You know what I mean.” She grimaced. “I don’t intend to subject Delahunty’s to a series of hysterical scenes.”

“If I can be of any service to you, at any time, please call me, Rowena. I’ll do all I can for you,” he assured her.

She could see the deep sincerity in his eyes, and it hurt. Unbearably. Where were you when I needed you? she cried in silent anguish. It’s too late now. Our lives have moved on.

A courtesy knock on the door heralded its opening. Rowena shot to her feet and stepped away from the table, inadvertently moving close to Keir, who merely turned to greet the newcomer. She wasn’t seeking his support or protection, and wasn’t aware of how they looked together as Adriana Leigh entered the office.

“Good morning, Mr. Delahunty,” she said with a bright, winning smile. Her elegance, sophistication and complete self-assurance were heart-joltingly evident. Not a younger woman. Very much a woman of considerable worldly experience. Rowena was spared a flick of curiosity, but the full beam of Adriana Leigh’s concentration was on Keir as she added, “What can I do for you?”

She was the kind of woman who was always aware of men and knowingly watched for her impact on them. Rowena recognised that instantly. She also knew instinctively there would be no tapping any vein of sympathy or guilt. In a roomful of women, this woman would be bored.

“I’d be obliged if you’d give some time to Mrs. Goodman, Adriana,” Keir answered, his clipped tone making the request more of an order. “Rowena, this is Adriana Leigh.”

The bright smile was only briefly jolted. She batted her eyelashes at Rowena. “How do you do, Mrs. Goodman?” A honeyed voice, dripping with confidence. With barely a pause, she inquired, “Did Phil ask you to come?”

It was a bold and subtle sliding in of the knife.

“No. It was my decision,” Rowena replied, silently challenging the other woman to make something belittling of that.

Adriana Leigh raised perfectly arched eyebrows at Keir. “This is rather different from the usual bounds of work requirements, Mr. Delahunty,” she pointed out, maintaining her decorum while questioning the propriety of his authority in what they all knew to be a personal matter.

“Sometimes extraordinary situations arise,” Keir answered smoothly. “I understood your position as personal secretary to one of my executives requires an ability to handle delicate matters with courtesy and patience.” He paused. Was there a threat left hanging? “However, if you feel unable…”

“Not at all, Mr. Delahunty. As you say, I am used to dealing with such situations.”

“I thought you would be.” A touch of dry irony.

“I’ll do my best to give Mrs. Goodman satisfaction,” she said with her own touch of irony as she started forward, showing no further reluctance to join them by the table. A smart, intelligent career woman would do no less after Keir had put her skills in question.

Rowena concentrated on assessing everything about Adriana Leigh before they were left alone together. She had long, toffee-coloured hair, liberally streaked with blonde and deliberately styled in a casually tousled look. It was not only suggestive of a recent tumble in bed but a ready receptiveness to repeating the pleasure at any time.

She wore a long-sleeved, transparent cream blouse with a lace-trimmed, silk camisole underneath. Her full breasts jiggled freely. Her hips swayed, their voluptuous curve from a small waist emphatically outlined by a tan gaberdine figurehugging skirt that was buttoned down to thigh level and left free to swing from a side split. She wore high heels. High, high heels.

This woman exuded sexuality, flaunted it, and Rowena doubted any man would be a hundred percent proof against it. There was no problem in understanding the attraction for Phil. The question was how deeply did Adriana Leigh have her claws into him?

“Rowena.” Keir took her hand, pressing it to pull her attention to him. “I’ll be in my secretary’s office. You have only to call me.”

Part of Rowena’s mind registered his earnest concern and caring. She felt the warmth and strength of his touch. She had a craven urge to cling to it, but the purpose that had brought her here made it inappropriate. Badly inappropriate. Didn’t he realise that?

“I’m all right, Keir. Thank you,” she said in deliberate dismissal.

He gently squeezed her hand before letting it go. Adriana noticed it. Her amber eyes gleamed feline derision at Rowena before she turned her gaze to watch Keir make his departure. The moment the door was closed behind him, she opened hostilities.

“How did you come to be so cosy with our Mr. Delahunty?”

Rowena ignored the dig. “Do you love my husband, or is he simply another conquest to you?” she asked with quiet dignity.

It won a flicker of surprise. “Well, you’re certainly direct.”

“I’d appreciate a direct answer.”

Adriana led from the chin. “I love Phil and he loves me and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

“You must have known he was married.”

“So what? He knew he was married, too. I didn’t take anything from you. You’d already lost it. Phil came to me.” Gloating triumph. Power. No sense of guilt whatsoever.