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‘You never told me much about my daddy,’ Robbie interrupted, accusingly. ‘You said it was mostly the two of us, Mummy.’
Oh, for the logic of youth, Lisa thought on a sigh, choking down the fierce wave of anger she felt against Rorke. How dared he walk calmly into her life, throwing out orders, telling Robbie that he was his father, carelessly and casually, not giving a thought to the effect it was likely to have on the little boy once he discovered the true situation?
‘Something wrong?’ Rorke had followed her across to the sink, watching her fill the kettle with hands that trembled betrayingly.
‘Of course there is,’ Lisa whispered savagely. ‘How dare you tell Robbie that you’re his father!’
‘If he doesn’t believe it, no one else is going to,’ Rorke told her quietly, ‘and I won’t have my father upset, Lisa. It’s imperative that he’s given some reason to hold on to life, that’s what the experts say, and I’m hoping that Robbie will prove to be that reason.’
‘You planned this, didn’t you?’ Lisa said bitterly. ‘You didn’t come here to take me back at all. You wanted Robbie…’
‘My father wants you both,’ Rorke corrected. A muscle beat angrily in his jaw and Lisa wondered at his hardness, his ability to ride rough
shod over everyone else simply to get what he wanted.
‘So you knew about Robbie?’ she ventured bitterly.
‘I knew you were carrying a child—you told me so yourself, remember?’
She darted a look at the hard, implacably set features and wondered at his control over his emotions. He hated her, she knew that, and yet for his father’s sake he was prepared to take her back to St Martins and Robbie with him, acknowledging Robbie as his son, even though he believed him to be Mike’s.
But Robbie was his son, and had every right to live on St Martins; every right to expect to be treated as Rorke’s son, and she did not have the ability to deprive her child of that right, Lisa decided achingly.
‘It’s perfectly all right, Lisa,’ Rorke said softly, watching the play of emotions over her face. ‘I’ve never believed in punishing the child for the crimes of its parents, and Robbie won’t suffer for his fathering at my hands. Besides, all I’m concerned with here is my father and his return to health.’
‘And to ensure that you’re prepared to suffer my presence on St Martins, is that it?’ Lisa demanded in a choked voice. God, his arrogance made her long to hit him!
‘You’re the one who said it,’ Rorke drawled insultingly. ‘But yes. For my father’s sake, I’m prepared to do what I said I never would do, and that is to accept your son as my child.’
‘Big of you,’ Lisa muttered under her breath. ‘I’m sure Robbie will be most appreciative, if you’re around long enough for him to realise the sacrifice that you’ve made. Couldn’t you simply have told him that you were a friend? Children aren’t fools. Robbie is already aware of the fact that there’s only me—like all children he’s inquisitive and curious. Now you’ve told him you’re his father, he will expect you to be his father.’
Was he remembering as she was that he had sworn he would never acknowledge Robbie as his son?
‘And so I will be—at least for as long as you’re on St Martins.’
But what about after that? Lisa wondered with an aching heart. She was under no illusions. Rorke was simply using them to protect his father, and once Leigh recovered they would be cruelly and firmly jettisoned. For herself, she could cope—no pain could ever equal what she had experienced when she first left Rorke, but it was Robbie she was worried about now. Robbie who would suffer dreadfully if he was allowed to get too close to Rorke; if he did indeed come to accept Rorke as his father, and Lisa made a private vow that no matter what Rorke might tell the little boy she would do all she could to protect him.
‘I’ve booked us on the evening flight,’ Rorke told her. ‘You’ll need to do some shopping—buy Robbie some lightweight clothes, etc. I’ve telephoned home to tell them to expect us. If you manage to persuade my father to have this operation I’m willing to be very generous to you, Lisa.’ He looked round the small, cramped room, his glance indicating how easily he thought she would be tempted by his suggestion.
Anger, molten hot and bitter, churned through her.
‘Whatever I do, I’m doing for Leigh, not for you, Rorke,’ she threw at him, ‘and I don’t need bribing. I love Leigh…’
‘So much that you ran out on me and never even let him know where you were. Some love!’ Rorke sneered. ‘Didn’t you ever think about what you were doing to him? About the gossip that would ensue, especially when Mike Peters left the island only weeks after you?’
Mike had left the island? That was something she hadn’t known.
‘Don’t come the innocent with me,’ Rorke snarled. ‘I know the two of you were together in Paris. Helen saw you when she was on a buying trip. She let it slip…’
‘I can imagine,’ Lisa retorted hotly. ‘But she happens to have been lying. I haven’t seen Mike since I left St Martin’s.’
Rorke shrugged, plainly losing interest in the subject, and Lisa suddenly became aware of Robbie, who was watching with rounded eyes.
‘Why are you getting cross, Mummy?’ he demanded suspiciously. ‘Are you cross with my daddy?’
His lower lip trembled a little, and Lisa bit her lip, mentally chiding herself for letting Robbie witness their quarrel.
She was just about to reassure the little boy, when to her surprise Rorke scooped him up into his arms, holding him level with his face.
