The High Price of Secrets Page 11

  Insecurity flooded her, making her dash across the room to where she’d slung a robe over an easy chair. She shrugged herself into it and knotted the sash, like a barrier across her body.

  “What’s wrong?” Finn asked as he reentered the room.

  “Nothing,” she insisted.

  He walked straight up to her and gathered her in his arms. “You having regrets?”

  “None,” she answered as firmly as she could, but even so, she couldn’t meet his eyes. “You?”

  She tensed, waiting for his reply.

  “Same, so why the frown?”

  He traced twin lines between her eyebrows with his forefinger and she forced herself to relax the muscles.

  “I—I guess I just don’t know what happens next. It’s been a while since I…since…” She shook her head in frustration, struggling to find the words she needed to say.

  “Since you’ve been in a new relationship?”

  She sagged against him. Was that what this was to him? A relationship? A tiny light of hope flared in her chest. Logically she knew it was far too soon for her to even think about embarking on a new relationship with someone. It had been a week—just one week—since she’d walked in on Trent and Zac. A week since she’d given Trent back his ring and walked away from her old life.

  But why shouldn’t she grasp this, whatever it was, with Finn while she could? Grasp it and hold it tight, and ride it for what it was worth. It went against her nature, went against every instinct that told her to play it safe…but last time her “safe” choice of boyfriend hadn’t been enough to keep her from getting hurt. What did she have to lose by taking the risk?

  “Yes,” she replied. “And it’s not that long since my last one.”

  “I figured as much. Do you want me to leave?”

  “Not at all!” The vehement response was out of her mouth before she could censor it.

  Finn laughed. “It’s okay if I stay then?”

  “Do you want to stay?” There was still that kernel of doubt niggling at the back of her thoughts.

  “I do. Very much.”

  His big warm hands slid up her back and to the back of her head, his fingers sending tingles through her scalp and releasing the tension she had there. When he bent to kiss her it was gentle, reassuring. Not the crazy heady kiss they’d shared earlier, but one that started a mellow simmer that radiated from her core. Between them she could feel his arousal stirring, felt an answering response in her.

  She slid her hands around his waist, relishing the taut muscles that played beneath her fingers, relishing the fact he was here, for her and her alone. This was right, for now at least, and, reminding herself of her earlier vow, she meant to make the most of it.

  This time their coming together was slow and languid. Each touch a measured stroke, each kiss lingered. When he slid inside her she was hit with that feeling of rightness, and when his long strokes drew them both to climax she tumbled over the precipice knowing she was safe and secure in his arms.

  Knowing she could trust him.

  Fifteen

  Finn lay awake in the predawn hours, Tamsyn sprawled across his chest, her leg across his hips. He’d never been a snuggler, but somehow this felt right. So right he hadn’t wanted to lose a moment of it in sleep.

  She was so vulnerable, so innocent in all this. He felt like the lowest of the low deceiving her—deliberately holding her back from what she sought. She would never forgive him when she found out, and he didn’t doubt that one day she would. The district was too close-knit for Ellen’s whereabouts to remain a secret forever.

  But for now he had her in his arms, and maybe, just maybe, now that they’d crossed this bridge into intimacy together, he’d be able to keep a closer eye on her—find a way to keep the secret and still protect her for a bit longer.

  His fingers curled around her as he thought about the truths she’d shared in the dark, about how she’d happened upon her fiancé and his lover, a man who was her PA no less, in bed together. How she’d been betrayed by the two men she’d had every right to trust and expect loyalty from. It made his blood curdle when he heard that her ex had brushed off his affair, still expecting her to carry on as if nothing had happened, as if she deserved no better than to be second best in their life together.

  It must have been made even harder for her with the timing—finding out about her fiancé so shortly after discovering the truth behind her father’s lie that her mother had died. She had come here to get away from the lies, and the expectations, and the falseness that seemed to fill every aspect of her life. She’d come to find her mother and learn the truth…and instead, she’d found him—master betrayer of them all.

  His gut clenched painfully at the thought of the hurt he would inflict on her, of the guilt he carried with him. Another mantle to bear, he realized with a deep breath that filled his senses with her special scent. She stirred in his arms, a small cry erupting from her mouth as she startled awake.

  “Finn?” she mumbled, sounding disoriented.

  “You okay?”

  “I had a bad dream. I couldn’t find you.”

  “I’m right here,” he assured her, tightening his arms around her again. “Go back to sleep. I’ve got you.”

  For now, he thought as he felt her body relax against his again. But for how much longer?

  * * *

  Tamsyn woke feeling extraordinarily refreshed. She couldn’t quite wipe the smile off her face. She’d woken after nine, and couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever slept so late. Mind you, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d spent half the night making love, either. She stretched against the sheets, wondering what Finn was up to.

  The scent of a rosebud perfumed the air and she turned her head toward the source. As she did so, a whisper of paper on the pillow beside her caught her attention. She lifted first the rose, then the sheet of paper, that happy smile widening as she read its contents.

  Finn apologized for not being there when she woke and said that business had called him away for the day. He’d be back late that night but hoped to see her again on Sunday. While Tamsyn knew she’d miss him, at least she knew she’d be seeing him again soon. She held the rose to her face, deeply inhaling the heady fragrance, touched that he’d thought to pick it for her and leave it with his note.

  Her insecurities of the night before had faded into nothing. She’d never thought she’d ever share with another person, outside her family, what had happened with Trent, but confiding in Finn during the night had been cathartic. He’d listened without judgment and, afterward, he’d made love to her again as if she was the most precious creature on the planet, wiping away any lingering doubts about her attractiveness or femininity.

  He was a skilled lover and had driven her body to heights she’d never experienced before. Heights she was looking forward to experiencing again. Hopefully, tomorrow.

  Over the next few days they fell into a pattern of sharing meals, and nights, together. For the first time since she’d discovered her mother still lived, Tamsyn’s need to find her softened. Oh, she still knew she wanted to track her mother down, but the urgency had faded, and exploring Finn’s likes and dislikes held more immediate appeal.

  Maybe she was in avoidance mode, as it had occurred to her that she might not like what she discovered. Her mother had chosen not to be part of Tamsyn’s life years before. Did she really want to risk the pain of an in-person rejection when she could, instead, focus her time and attention on a man who made her feel so cherished? Being part of a twosome with Finn Gallagher had brought her more happiness in the past week than she’d known in a long time and she reveled in it. Plus, this week at the hall with her community group had gone exceptionally well. Every day, she felt more comfortable and at home in this town.

  All in all, life was sweet, she
thought as she prepared a meal for one the following Friday night. Finn was away again. He’d been distracted the past couple of days and she had the distinct impression that something was worrying him, but when she’d pressed him, he’d said he was fine.

  The wind had come up today and thick black clouds, heavy with rain, banked up in the sky. It looked like it could be a rough night. Tamsyn didn’t mind a storm, it was always good for blowing away the cobwebs, but this would be the first time she’d weathered one on her own.

  “Prrrp!” Okay, so not completely on her own, she smiled to herself, bending down to stroke Lucy, who wound around and around her legs.

  “It’s just you and me tonight, Luce,” she said before straightening and looking outside.

  She’d have to try to round up the chickens into their coop if the weather kept deteriorating. She didn’t look forward to the experience but figured with some chicken feed she should be able to tempt them into safety.

  After her meal, she did just that, finally settling the last of the birds just as the first big fat drop of rain hurtled from the sky and hit her smack in the forehead. As if it had given carte blanche to the clouds to simply open up, the drops increased until the rain was bucketing down. Tamsyn raced to the house, struggling as the back door was almost torn from her grip by a particularly vicious gust of wind.

  She got inside and slammed the door closed. Locking it behind her for good measure. It had only taken seconds but she was drenched to the skin. A long soak in a warm bath with a good book was just what she needed. Lucy curled up on the bath mat beside her as she lit the last candle in the bathroom, shed her wet and now-cold clothing and tested the temperature of the water.

  “Perfect.” She sighed as she sank into the enveloping warmth and reached for the glass of chardonnay she’d poured to enjoy with her book.

  The lights overhead flickered, then brightened.

  “Uh-oh,” she said to the cat, who appeared unperturbed by the glitch in the electricity. “That doesn’t look promising.”

  The words were no sooner out of her mouth than another massive gust of wind hit the house, causing the lights to flicker again before going out, this time completely. Tamsyn sat upright in the water and waited for them to come back on, but she waited in vain. Deciding she could do nothing about it for now, she dropped her book on the floor next to the bath and sank back in the water. At least she had light, thanks to the candles she’d lit earlier. As for the blackout, well, it would be a good excuse to have an early night.

  Her sleep was fractured, punctuated by the crash and boom of thunder as the storm built through the night. Even ducking under the covers and pulling them up over her head did little to block the noise. The time gap between flashes of lightning and the explosive rumbles that followed got shorter and shorter until they seemed to land one on top of the other.

  What a night for Finn to pick to be away, Tamsyn thought as she fought the rising fear that clawed at her throat. Even Lucy had deserted the top of the bed and was, Tamsyn suspected, cowering under it instead. She wished there was room enough under there to join her.

  Bang! Cr-a-ck! Tamsyn jumped out of her skin. That was too close for comfort, the report sounding as if it was right on top of the house. Should she find a coat and check for damage? Another flash of lightning, followed a few seconds later by an almighty clap of thunder, warned her of the stupidity of that idea. She burrowed back under the covers, pulling her pillow over her ears for good measure. Tomorrow would be soon enough.

  Morning dawned, as it so often does after a storm, with a fresh new promise of a beautiful day. Thankfully, at some time during the early hours, the power had been restored. Tamsyn was bleary eyed as she drank her morning coffee and waited for the caffeine to hit her bloodstream. Once she’d finished, she’d borrow a pair of rubber boots from the laundry and inspect outside. Even here from the kitchen window she could see there was some damage from the storm. Plant debris scattered through the vegetable garden and she could see she’d have to tie up the tomatoes again.

  Coffee finished, she found the boots and clumped outside. The back of the house didn’t look too bad, she thought, gathering up the detritus of leaves and small branches into a wheelbarrow from the implements shed as she went. It wasn’t until she was close to the front that she saw the shattered window with a broken tree branch resting half in and half out of the room.

  A Venetian blind swung drunkenly in the morning breeze, attached at only one end and, from the looks of it, bent and damaged beyond repair. This had to be the locked room, she thought as she moved closer. The owners wouldn’t be happy about this. She’d have to call the property manager and see if they could get someone out to repair the window and contact the owners about replacing the blind. In the meantime, she’d see if she could find something to board the broken window up.

  Before she went back to the shed to see if they had any plywood and nails stored there, she moved over to the house. Thankfully, the deep eaves on the property had kept most of the rain out. Broken glass littered the windowsill and, from what Tamsyn could see by jumping repeatedly, the floor of the room inside.

  She started to turn for the shed, hoping to return with a stepladder and a saw in addition to plywood and nails. As she did so, the curtain billowed out of the window. She caught a glimpse of what looked to be a framed photo on the opposite wall. Tamsyn turned over the wheelbarrow and stood on it for a better look. The woman in the photo looked familiar….

  In fact, she looked very much like the face that greeted Tamsyn in the mirror each morning.

  A cold trickle started at the base of her neck and ran a rivulet down her spine. She had to get into that room to make sure she wasn’t imagining things. Jumping down from the wheelbarrow, she jogged to the shed and spotted the ladder she needed hanging on the wall, together with a set of leather gardening gloves nearby that would protect her hands from the broken glass.

  The rubber boots were going to be too clumsy to wear going up the ladder and through the window frame so, after lugging the ladder and a saw across the lawn to the house, she dashed inside and pulled on the runners she’d bought a couple of weeks ago. Once she was level with the window, she could see the room was stacked with boxes and the walls and the dresser top appeared to be the repository for every framed photo that had probably adorned the rest of the house before the owners went away.

  Tamsyn worked determinedly at the branch with the saw until one end fell down into the garden. The other rested just inside the window frame and down onto the glass-strewn floor. Swiping away the broken glass from the sill with a gloved hand, Tamsyn pulled herself up and through the window, feeling like nothing more than a burglar. She told herself not to be so stupid. She was being a fastidious tenant, ensuring that the damage inside wasn’t severe, that’s all. Once inside, she pushed the drapes wide open, letting light flood into the room.

  Ignoring the crunch of broken glass beneath her feet, she crossed the room and lifted the photo frame off the wall. It was like looking at a picture of herself in another five or ten years’ time. That chill ran down her neck again as she studied the woman in the photo more closely, mentally comparing it to the wedding photo she’d found on the internet. She and Tamsyn were a lot alike, from the shape of their face to their figures. While the photo was somewhat faded, Tamsyn could make out the color of the woman’s eyes. Dark liquid brown, just like her own, except rather than being fresh and bright, the woman’s were sad and slightly unfocused.

  In the photo, a man with light brown hair and a sun-weathered face stood beside the woman, just slightly taller and bearing a look of pride that beamed out to all and sundry that he was well satisfied with his world. She had no idea who he was…but she was increasingly certain that she knew the woman. There had to be more photos, maybe even some papers that might confirm who the woman was.

  She turned and ripped open one of the boxes an
d found it filled with albums all neatly dated on the spines. She ran her hand over the dates, choosing one from about three years after her mother had left. Sliding down onto a clear space on the floor, Tamsyn began to turn the pages. With each one she became more and more certain that the couple pictured were her mother and Ellen’s partner, who seemed very much in love with her.

  There was more. Several pictures had a young girl in them, aged about two or three years old. Honey blonde but with the same dark brown eyes as her mother, she looked to be a happy child and always had a coloring pencil in one hand and paper in the other—either that or she was dressing a doll in all manner of garments.

  Tamsyn turned another page and felt a wave of shock hit her fair smack in the stomach. She blinked away the black dots that began to swim before her eyes, closing them briefly—unable to believe what she saw before her. She took a steadying breath, then another, before opening her eyes again.

  The picture swam before her and she blinked once more to clear her vision. Yes, it was still the same as before. The shock of it was fading, but the image’s ramifications were no less devastating. There, right in front of her, stood the woman Tamsyn believed to be her mother, with the man and an older version of the little girl…and with a young boy aged about twelve. A young boy with brown hair and gray eyes.

  A young boy who looked very much like Finn Gallagher.

  Sixteen

  Finn Gallagher knew her mother!

  He’d lied to her all this time. Confusion warred with anger inside her until, with a bubbling rising fury, anger won. How dare he? He’d known she was looking for her mother and yet he’d never given the slightest indication he knew her mother at all. In fact, he’d deliberately and calculatedly told her Ellen didn’t live there. Well, didn’t live up on the hill at his house, maybe, but that was splitting hairs.