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She heard Rorke growl something in his throat, but didn’t bother to turn round.
‘You might have just discovered that Robbie is your son, Rorke, but don’t forget I’ve always known, and so for me nothing has changed.’
‘We’ll talk about it later,’ she heard Rorke say grimly as he got up and left the room, closing the door quietly behind him. Once he had gone she gave herself up to the desire to sleep, wondering vaguely if Dr James had given her some sort of tranquillising shot. She felt so calm and relaxed.
It was some time later that she heard her bedroom door open again. This time it wasn’t Rorke, it was Helen, immaculately dressed in a suit of pure gentian blue silk, her eyes hardening as they looked across the distance that separated them.
‘You haven’t won, you know,’ she began conversationally, sitting down and crossing slender brown legs. ‘You might think that discovering that Robbie is really his son is going to make Rorke turn to you, but it won’t, Lisa. In fact,’ she continued, idly smoothing the silk fabric with long, painted nails, an expression of feline triumph in her eyes, ‘it simply makes matters easier for us.’
‘If you mean by “easier” that Rorke can divorce me to marry you, he’s been free to do that for the last five years,’ Lisa told her calmly.
‘Oh yes, but then he’s always known how much his father dotes on you. Leigh had planned to split his estate between the two of you, you know, until he found out about the boy. Now he’s leaving your share to Robbie, and as Rorke is Robbie’s natural father, it will be the easiest thing in the world for him to divorce you and claim custody. That way he keeps Leigh happy by keeping the child here and he gets to i
nherit the entire estate.’ She laughed softly. ‘Now that Rorke knows that Robbie is his son he holds the winning card doesn’t he?’
* * *
Half an hour later when Mama Case came upstairs with a glass of milk and some fruit she found Lisa staring blindly out of the window, her face pale and set.
‘Why, honey chile, whatever be de matter?’ she exclaimed in concern. ‘That little boy, him gonna be just fine, so don’t you go worryin’ yourself about him.’
So Robbie was going to be ‘just fine’, was he? A huge lump gathered in Lisa’s throat. What would Mama Case say if she told her how callously Rorke was planning to take her son from her? If only she could appeal to Leigh for help—but how could she in his present weakened state? What on earth was she going to do? Panic tore into her. She wanted to go and see Robbie to make sure that he was all right, that Helen and Rorke hadn’t spirited him away somewhere. One read about such horrible things she thought feverishly, of parents snatching their children or all manner of dreadful things. Tears started to stream down her face, and she saw Mama Case watching her with growing concern. She went to the door and opened it, calling something. Ten minutes later Rorke came into the room, his face grim and unreadable. Did he know that Helen had told her the truth? She suspected not. Rorke was too skilled a tactician to want her to be forewarned of what he planned.
‘Lisa, stop tearing yourself apart,’ he commanded sternly, ‘Robbie is going to be all right. If you want the truth Dr James is more concerned about you. He seems to think you’re going through some sort of crisis brought on by the strain of Robbie’s accident. Drink this milk and take this tablet. It’s only to help you sleep,’ he added sardonically, seeing her expression. ‘I’m not Bluebeard. I’m not about to do away with you.’
Under his grim gaze she was forced to take the pill and swallow it down with milk, and although she fought hard against the darkness reaching out to engulf her, it proved too strong. She found herself sinking into it, Rorke’s face growing misty and distant, the smile he gave her as she finally went under terrifying in its triumph. Her last thought was that somehow she must get Robbie away. She must prevent Rorke from doing what Helen said he planned to do. Helen already had her husband, she thought bitterly, she wasn’t going to have her son as well.
* * *
A terrible presentiment of evil stalked her through her dreams; the old childhood nightmare of being pursued through some tangled leafless forest of gaunt spectral trees by some terrifying but unseen ‘thing’, resurrected as she tried desperately to escape the fear haunting her.
A sudden sharp sound splintered through her fear and she woke up staring round the darkened room, her mouth dry and her heart pounding with fear.
‘It’s all right, Lisa.’ Rorke’s voice reached her through the darkness and she realised the sound that woke her must have been him entering the room.
‘You’ve been having a bad dream so Mama Case says. She didn’t know whether to wake you or not. Would you like a drink?’
‘Fruit juice please.’ She felt so dry. It must be the tablet he had given her. ‘Rorke, Robbie…’
‘He’s fine,’ he assured her briefly. ‘We should be able to bring him home in a couple of days.’
The words ‘we’ and ‘home’ started off an ache inside her that wouldn’t be stilled. She moved restlessly in the large bed, wishing she had the courage to ask Rorke to leave. Where before she had felt protected from any kind of pain, now her reactions were just the opposite. Her emotions felt raw and bruised, tears far too near the surface, her body crying out for the comfort of Rorke’s arms, the solace of his lovemaking, and yet she knew quite well that neither could ease the real pain because that sprang from the knowledge that he didn’t want her, didn’t love her, and planned to deprive her of her child.
‘Here’s your juice.’
He had moved so quickly and quietly she hadn’t seen him. As she reached up to take the glass her fingers were trembling so much that some of the liquid splashed over her skin.
Instantly Rorke was bending over her, his arm supporting her as he sat on the bed lifting her and holding the glass for her so that she could drink in comfort.
‘Lisa, we have to talk.’
She stiffened immediately.
‘What about?’ she asked coldly. ‘We don’t have anything to speak about, Rorke.’
‘We have Robbie,’ he contradicted quietly. ‘He’s my son, Lisa.’
‘He’s been your son from the moment he was conceived, but somehow that fact hasn’t bothered you before!’
