profile.
âYes, I did meet her,â he returned abruptly.
Now he had a name and faceâ¦or he should have a face. The woman had fronted a very high-profile publicity campaign just a few years ago. You hadnât been able to walk down the street, open a magazine or switch on a television without seeing her face.
So why, when he tried now to visualise those photogenic features, was he only able to see the face of her younger sister?
Scarlet didnât register the abruptness of his reply. âShe was very lovely, wasnât she?â
He responded to her wistful appeal with an affirmative nod, not because he remembered, to his shame he didnât, but because it was obviously what she wanted to hear. âYes, she was.â
He had spent one night at her flat. He knew the date; it should have been his first wedding anniversary. He had woken up fully dressed on her sofa with a raging headache; she had said she had let him sleep it off.
âDid you know her well?â
His silence lasted a long timeâa noticeably long time.
Scarlet drew a sharp breath as she suddenly went icy cold all over, convinced that he was about to admit they had been lovers.
âNo, I didnât know her well.â
The sigh of relief that whistled through her clenched teeth was silent. If he had been Abbyâs lover, why would it have made a differenceâ¦? What was there for it to make a difference to? It wasnât as if there was, or ever would be, anything between her and Roman.
âSo Sam knows youâre not his real mother?â
âOf course. You shouldnât lie to children.â
âA very sound principle,â he approved smoothly. âAnd when Samâs older and he asks about his parents youâll be able to tell himâ¦?â
Unwittingly, she thought, he had touched upon a subject that had concerned her for some time. Sam would ask about his father, it was inevitable, but what was she supposed to tell him? The truth? Or was she to invent a hero that a boy could be proud of? It was a minefield.
âSamâs very young to understand yet.â
âItâs surprising how much children understand.â
âIâll be able to tell him that his mummy loved him very much.â
âHas she been gone long?â
âAbby learnt she had leukaemia when she was first pregnant with Sam,â Scarlet recalled quietly. âThe doctors wanted her to have a termination and start treatment straight away. They warned her that not to do so would seriously reduce her chances of survival.â
Their eyes locked. The shock in his was visible, as was the compassion; the latter made her throat ache, and she swallowed.
âAnd they were right?â
âYes,â she admitted softly.
âShe ignored them?â he probed gently.
Scarlet nodded.
He released his breath in a long fractured hiss. âWhat a decision to be forced to make.â And make alone.
âI donât think it actually was that hard for Abby. I donât think a termination was ever an option for her.â
âHow long after?â
âSam was three months old when she died; most of that three months she spent in hospital,â she imparted quietly.
Roman caught his breath. âMy God.â His brow furrowed. âShe knew that having her baby would kill her?â
Anger flared in Scarletâs dark-fringed hazel eyes. âNo, leukaemia killed her.â
She was painfully aware that it was possible for a careless word to plant an idea in a childâs head, and she determined that Sam wouldnât grow up burdened with the guilt of his motherâs death.
âAnd Iâd be grateful if you didnât say that againâ ever .â
He inclined his head towards her. âOf course, Iâm sorry.â
Rather taken aback by his apparent sincerity, she accepted it with a grudging but wary nod.
âAnd you have brought her baby up?â She gave a tiny nod
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