The Billionaire's Secrets (9 page)

Her mug empty, she put it back on the tray. The brandy was having its effect, if only to make her a little lightheaded. She went to her suitcase and dug out a long nightgown. She had brought two: a flannel one for warmth and a black lacy one that she loved for its luxurious feel. It was the only thing she owned in pure silk
,
and it always made her feel sexy and exotic. She decided that tonight she needed the reassurance that she was attractive and desirable. She took off her black dress and folded it neatly before putting it into her suitcase. Then she stripped off the rest of her clothes and let the nightgown slide down over her body.

She looked at herself in the full-length mirror on the back of the bedroom door. Her eyes
were
no longer looked flushed and bright, only sad and tired. But she did look good in the neglig
é
e, her skin creamy and pale in contrast to its dark sheen. The tops of her breasts were visible over the lace, nipples outlined in black silk. It clung to the narrowness of her waist and flowed over her hips to the floor. She imaged
Gaelan’s
eyes on her and felt a heat surge through her body. She went to the bed and pulled down the covers, ready to get in and face a night of insomnia punctuated by restless dreams when she remembered
Sophia
.

She had promised to say goodnight to
Sophia
, and although the girl was probably long asleep, it was a promise she would keep. It was the very least she could do for her - she refused to be added to the list of people who had let
Sophia
down. She pulled the matching silk robe out of her suitcase and slipped it over her shoulders before going down the hall to
Sophia
’s room.

The door was open a crack. A bedside lamp was on, illuminating the girl's face, angelic in sleep as children always are. Chloe opened the door wider and slipped inside. The girl’s b
lond
curls fanned out around her face, and Chloe thought the only thing missing was a luminescent halo. Funny that her hair was so blond given how dark
Gaelan’s
was. Perhaps her mother had been blond. It was one more mystery that Chloe would never know the answer to.

In the crook of her arm
Sophia
held a teddy bear, while curled up beside her on the colourful patchwork quilt was a sleeping tabby cat. A picture book lay open on the covers, which Chloe quietly closed and set on the bedside table. The cat opened his eyes and regarded her dispassionately for a moment before closing them once again.

The room was big and clearly designed with a child in mind. A fireplace graced one wall, although instead of a real fire, an electric fire with artificial logs cast a warm red glow on the room. On
either side of the fireplace sat huge bookcases, the shelves lined with books and toys, and
Chloe again had the impression of a poor little rich girl. Did
Gaelan
think that all these things, as much as any child would want them, could take the place of a parent’s love?

She watched the girl as she slept peacefully
, feeling
a deep sadness. She would be gone in the morning and would never see
Sophia
again. Perhaps in the long run it was for the best. How could she be this child's teacher for a year and then leave? What effect would that have on
Sophia
? What
Sophia
really needed was not a teacher but a mother who would stay with her forever, to be there as she grew up, to help her through all of childhood's and adolescence's ups and downs.

Chloe remembered her own mother
,
who had comforted her and supported her no matter what. She recalled her first boyfriend. She was fifteen
,
and he was eighteen. Her mother hadn’t approved and told her so, and yet when he inevitably dumped her for
a cheerleader
, her mother had let her cry on he
r shoulder and never once said
I told you so
.

Chloe couldn't understand
Gaelan's
lack of affection for the child. Had he always been like this
,
or had it been different when his wife had been alive? Or had
Sophia
simply been an unwanted child?
But h
ow could anyone not want this beautiful, bright
girl
? Chloe had only known her for a few hours
,
and already she was ready to step into the role. Was part of that her attraction to
Sophia
’s father? How would she feel if she heard one day that
Gaelan
had remarried? Would she be happy for
Sophia
’s sake?

She pulled the quilt up over the girl’s shoulders before leaning over and kissing her softly on the cheek.
Sophia
smiled slightly in her sleep and pressed the teddy bear closer to her chest. "Good night," Chloe said in a barely audible whisper. “I wish I had the chance to get to know you. I do know you are a very special little girl." She straightened up and watched
Sophia
sleep for a few more moments. What would happen to
Sophia
? Chloe prayed that despite everything she would grow to be a loving young woman, that her talents would blossom, and that above all she would be happy. “Good-bye,” she whispered again. She turned to leave when she stopped suddenly, her hand flying to her mouth to stifle the gasp of surprise
.

Gaelan
Byrne stood in the open doorway of
Sophia
’s room.
How long had he been standing there?
Chloe wondered.  His hands were in his pockets
,
and he lounged casually against the doorframe silently, watching her.
D
espite his closeness, she wondered for a moment if he was really there or wheth
er she was dreaming or having a
hallucination. But no dream or hallucination could have a presence like this. It was too
strong, too physical. All around him the air was charged, his strength and sexuality surrounding him like an aura. 

He did not speak, the only movement his even breathing.
That and his eyes.
They roamed languidly over her, calmly taking in her appearance in the black silk negligée.  She felt almost naked under his gaze and pulled the edges of the robe together over her breasts. Her hand was shaking slightly
,
and her legs felt so weak that the slightest breeze would have toppled her. She wondered if he would take the few steps t
hat separated them to catch her
and if he did what would happen next.

She tried to find something to say, but found she was hardly capable of thought, let alone speech. She felt herself being simultaneously pulled in and repulsed by his energy, frozen in space and time, a complete slave to his whims and desires. And so she stood there, separated by a few feet of floor, a few feet of air, her fate hanging in the balance as she waited for his next move.

He seemed oblivious to her emotional state, only stood there watching her through narrowed eyes seemingly indifferent to her state of mind. Slowly he straightened up, his shoulder no longer against the doorframe, and as Chloe’s heart waited to start beating again, he turned away slowly. Then, without saying a word, without revealing his reasons for being there at all, he disappeared
silently down the dark hall.

Chapter 3

Gaelan
stood at the edge of the cliff, looking out over the Atlantic Ocean. While the day had dawned relatively clear, a dense white fog was now being carried in on a light wind. Before long it woul
d be, as Newfoundlanders said,
as
thick as pea soup.
Below him the icy water pounded against the rocks in its endless quest to wear the island away.

A hundred yards from shore
,
two blue-white icebergs made their slow and fateful voyage south. Now two shimmering mountains of ice, the icebergs had once formed part of a glacier in Greenland. Carried by the current, they would continue their journey south until they melted into warmer waters.
Ghosts
, Windy called them, and today shrouded in fog they looked especially eerie. Despite their unearthly beauty,
Gaelan
knew well how deadly they could be. What jutted out of the ocean was
only the tip of the iceberg
and relatively easy to avoid. But beneath the dark waves, shelves of deadly ice laid patiently in wait for careless ships.

He loved the icebergs
,
as he loved everything about Widow’s Cliff.
The isolation, the wind, the barren beauty, the ever-present sound of the ocean.
He rested a hand against the wooden fence that had guarded the cliff’s edge ever since his great-grandfather had wandered off and plunged to his death. Colleen had hated Widow’s Cliff for the very reasons
Gaelan
loved it and spent as little time here as possible. Perhaps that was why she had failed to ruin the place for him. It felt untouched by her, untainted. Here at Widow’s Cliff, he could almost fo
rget the whole sorry business.
Almost
being the operative word, as
Sophia
’s presence was a constant reminder of his foolishness.

The wind lifted his hair and the hem of his long wool coat. It was a cool wind, but it held the promise of spring. The fog was gr
owing steadily denser. He couldn’t
see the icebergs anymore, though he still felt their nearness. Along the shore was a band of ice, and beyond that he could make out the ice pans, broken pieces of ice washed around by the waves. From these, dozens of ducks scouted the water for fish.

He turned toward the house. Shrouded in fog, it looked
straight out of a
fairy-tale. It was such an unlikely house, with its turrets and its leaded windows - a castle in the New World.
Gaelan’s
great-grandfather had come to Newfoundland, forced out of Ireland by hunger. He had been one of the lucky ones and made a fortune as a ship builder. But he was not happy here. He missed the soft green of his homeland and could not fall in love with Newfoundland’s rocky barrenness. He built his house on this cliff, on the far-eastern tip of the continent, as close as he could get to his beloved homeland without stepping into the ocean. Eventually he had, and
Gaelan
had always wondered if his fall off the cliff truly had been an accident.