Her hands sliding under his shirt—arms curled around his middle—pressing her breasts against his back… The images slipped into his head in the time it took to blink. The effort to halt this fantasy made the sinews in his neck stand out.
Sam turned as if she’d struck him. The revulsion in his expression brought her hand to her lips to stifle a cry.
‘No, you listen. Didn’t you give any thought to the consequences of your actions?’ Her silence seemed to compound his condemnation. ‘Did you really think I kept silent about my son out of choice? Don’t you think I’d have loved to have boasted to everyone when he learnt to ride his bike, when his team won little league?’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘You didn’t want to,’ he reminded her grimly. He read the guilt in her face and his eyes narrowed. ‘Marilyn was pregnant when we were both eighteen. Eighteen—God,’ he half groaned. ‘We were young, but not stupid enough to think we had enough going for us to sustain a marriage. I helped out financially as much as I could in the early years and her mother looked after the baby while Marilyn finished school. I saw Ben whenever possible.’
Lindy didn’t think he was aware that he had forgotten for a split second to mask his vulnerability.
‘Marilyn married seven years ago. He’s a good man, a better father than I have ever been.’ The raw despair in his voice made Lindy want to hug him. ‘I could see their point of view. I’d breeze in every so often and shower the kid with gifts, but I wasn’t involved in all the nitty-gritty parts of parenting. He was confused; he had two fathers, although he was too young at the time to realise that. I’d made a name for myself by then and Marilyn lived in dread of finding the media camped on her doorstep. She’s not the sort of lady who would enjoy being a human-interest story.’
‘You gave him up to protect him?’ What have I done? Horror-struck, she could only stare at him.
‘I didn’t want to. I worked myself up into a frenzy of self-righteous anger the first time they suggested it. Then I sat down and faced a few cold, hard facts. I wasn’t thinking about Ben; my motives were purely selfish. I haven’t lost contact with him completely. Marilyn still keeps me up to date with his progress. I get photos and school reports…’
Lindy swallowed the lump of emotion in her throat. There was a bleakness in his emotionless description that touched her deeply. ‘I’m so sorry, Sam.’
His head whipped round. ‘Sorry!’ he snarled. ‘It’s a bit late for that, isn’t it?’
Lindy felt so miserable it hardly mattered to her that he’d assumed her apology was an admission of guilt. She was guilty, just not of what he thought. She was guilty of not trusting him. It would have been easier to find release in anger, but she had little room to criticise after the way she’d behaved.
‘Is it in the papers yet?’
‘Why? Eager to read what your poisonous seeds have sprouted? I’ve told you, they’re only holding off to get maximum effect when The Legacy is released. A child’s going to suffer just to satisfy your vindictive spite.’
‘You can’t believe I’d want that.’
‘I think you wanted to hit back at me and you did the first and most vicious thing you could think of. Try telling Ben it’s not personal when he gets crucified at school. Try telling the family you’ve just torn apart that you didn’t mean it.’
‘I can’t be the only person who knows,’ she said desperately.
‘You’re the only one I don’t trust.’
Her head went back as if he’d struck her. Sam wanted to respond to the stricken expression in her eyes. Wanting to comfort the woman who had wrought havoc in his life was the latest in a long line of crazy things he’d done since he’d first laid eyes on Rosalind Lacey. She suckered you—when is it finally going to sink in? he asked himself.
‘I don’t blame you for feeling that way.’ She faced him with unconscious dignity.
‘That’s mighty generous of you.’
‘There are some things you should know.’ In his present vengeful mood, telling him about Paul and the baby was probably not the wisest thing to do, but she owed him that much. ‘They might help you understand why I overreacted to the things Magda told me.’ Magda! She recalled the gloating spite in the other woman’s voice as she’d relayed her tale. ‘Have you thought about whether it could have been Magda?’ she began eagerly. It had to be; it fitted.
‘Don’t try to worm out of it now, Rosalind. Magda’s known about Ben for over a year. Why would she choose this moment to go public?’