The Italian's Baby of Passion. Susan Stephens
day meet O’Hagan senior pass without comment.
‘I was engaged to a girl—Sally.’
Her eyes widened. ‘You were engaged?’
‘Yes, about five years ago. Why so surprised, Scarlet? Most men of my age have had at least one serious long-term relationship.’
‘But I thought you were…’
‘A shallow, womanising pig?’ he suggested. He observed the surge of guilty colour in her cheeks with a cynical smile. ‘Relax, there’s no need to totally retrench, the two are not necessarily mutually incompatible.’
‘Did your father not approve of her?’
‘Far from it, he adored her. He still does. I’d known Sally since we were children—her parents are tenant farmers on the estate. We were always in and out of each other’s houses.’
‘The girl next door?’
He nodded. ‘There was nothing then, but we met up at college and were involved briefly, but it was nothing heavy. Then a few years later we met up at a party. A month later we were engaged. My family, especially my father, was over the moon,’ he recalled.
‘But you couldn’t go through with it.’
Roman’s dark, saturnine features clenched. His lip curled into a self-derisive smile as their eyes met.
‘No, actually she couldn’t go through with it. She ran off on the eve of the wedding with my best man.’
‘Gracious! That’s…that’s…’ She gave a helpless shrug. Very little he could have told her could have shocked her more. Any response seemed hopelessly inadequate. ‘I’m sorry. That must have been awful for you.’
‘I’ve had better days, but it happened a very long time ago.’
Despite his apparent indifference Scarlet couldn’t help but wonder if behind that casual attitude he was hiding his true feelings. Did he still love this woman who had dumped him so ignominiously? Had he gained his playboy reputation as a result of trying to forget his lost love?
‘I don’t understand. If she dumped you how come your father blames you?’
‘There was a note. She asked me not to tell her parents until she had a chance to talk to them. I’m assuming she never did. Nobody but Mother and I know she ran off with Jake.’
‘But—’
‘It didn’t last…she left for France and came back three weeks later alone. As far as my father is concerned I had the perfect woman and I drove her away. Maybe,’ he mused, ‘he was right. There’s a possibility that you’ll meet her in Ireland—she’s a teacher at the local primary school these days.’
‘When you meet up…’ she began, then the implication of his words hit home. ‘I won’t be going to Ireland.’
‘I’m sure Sam will be a lot more comfortable if you do.’
‘That’s moral blackmail!’ she accused angrily.
‘It’s also common sense,’ he pointed out. ‘Don’t worry, my parents will love Sam,’ he promised in a warmer voice. ‘There’s no sinister reason I haven’t spoken to my dad yet, I simply wanted to sort out things with you before I spoke to him.’
‘“Sort out?”’ she repeated, her mouth forming a twisted smile as she angrily studied his lean face. As if I can be filed away like a completed contract. ‘Are we sorted now?’ she asked bitingly.
‘I simply meant…’ Their eyes made contact, his lashes came down, but not before she had seen the seething frustration in those dark depths. ‘You are one prickly female, do you know that?’
‘I don’t like the idea of being sorted.’
‘It’s a figure of speech.’
‘Then maybe you should choose your words with more care.’
‘Dear God, I’m already walking on eggshells around you,’ he claimed. ‘The next logical step would be for us to communicate through a third party. Think about it,’ he suggested heavily. ‘All I knew for sure when I came here was Sam was my child, and you weren’t the mother. I needed some answers.’
‘What did you think I’d done, kidnapped him…?’ she suggested sarcastically.
‘I hadn’t ruled out anything. As I’ve already said, all I knew for sure was you weren’t the mother.’
‘How convenient I’m not beautiful and blonde,’ she jeered. ‘Or you might not have realised it was impossible for me to be Sam’s mum.’
A dark line of anger appeared along the crest of his cheekbones as their eyes made contact. His were darkly furious as they narrowed to angry glittering slits.
‘I’m beginning to think there’s an element of jealousy in your hostility.’
‘“Jealousy?”’ she parroted shrilly. ‘You think I’m jealous that you slept with my sister? You must be mad.’ Her scornful laugh had a hollow sound to it.
‘I was thinking more along the lines of you being jealous because there is someone else with a claim to Sam and you’re possessive, you want to keep him all to yourself. But if the other works?’ One dark brow quirked suggestively.
A scorching flush travelled over her entire body as she gasped into the static silence that followed his words.
‘I wouldn’t sleep with a man like you if my life depended on it!’
‘Not very original,’ he mused, his hooded eyes trained on her heaving bosom. ‘But you get full marks for conviction,’ he commended.
His tone of amused condescension made her want to throw something large and heavy at his smug face. She hadn’t expected the news she didn’t want to sleep with him to send him into a deep depression, but there was no need for him to treat it like a joke.
‘And,’ she continued contemptuously, ‘if I was choosing a father for my baby, you wouldn’t even make the list!’ She stopped, an expression of horror stealing across her face as she drew back from the very brink of revealing her sister’s shameful secret.
As much as Scarlet didn’t like the man, she didn’t dislike him enough to rub his nose in the humiliating fact that, far from getting accidentally pregnant, her sister had planned the entire thing. If he did go on to become part of Sam’s life—and, while she wasn’t ready to admit that out loud just yet, deep down she knew it was going to happen—what would she do then? How was she to know that revealing the truth would not colour any relationship father and son might come to have?
Would Roman feel differently about his son if he knew he had been tricked and used…? It wasn’t inconceivable a man could resent a child born of such circumstances. No, she decided, nothing could be achieved from coming clean.
For several moments Roman remained silent. When he finally responded he no longer appeared in the mood to be diverted by her comments.
‘Having Sam provides you with the perfect excuse for you not getting out there, doesn’t it?’
She responded with a grimace of genuine confusion to his observation. ‘“Getting out there?”’
‘Have you always been scared of relationships?’
‘You think I use Sam as an excuse? That I’m commitment-phobic?’ She released an incredulous laugh. ‘What you know about relationships could be printed on a matchbox. And if by “getting out there” you mean joining the singles scene and hanging out in bars waiting to be picked up, I’m really not that desperate.’
‘I’m happy for you. I wish I could say the same myself, but this conversation is enough to make anyone desperate—’ He broke off and heaved