‘What’s Sin’s mother like?’ She felt curious about the other woman in spite of herself. The woman who, as Sin had so bluntly pointed out, would be her baby’s grandmother once it was born…
‘Mrs Claudia?’ A warm smile of affection lit Wallace’s face. ‘She’s a true Southern Belle,’ he added consideringly. ‘Just like that woman in the movies. You know the one I mean, I’m sure. Scarlett O’Hara, that’s her—without the spoilt pout,’ he added quickly.
Luccy laughed. ‘I was always rather taken with the feisty Scarlett!’
Wallace nodded. ‘Everyone loves Mrs Claudia.’
‘Including Sin?’ Luccy prompted curiously.
‘Of course.’ The butler nodded as he brought over the fluffy omelette on a plate and placed it in front of her. ‘Although that doesn’t mean he gives in to her. Certainly not. Master Sin has a definite mind of his own,’ he said affectionately.
‘Tell me about it!’ Luccy muttered as she began to eat the omelette, finding that she had an appetite after all.
Wallace regarded her quizzically. ‘He was only twenty-six when his father died, you know. Not very old to have taken on the mantle of something as big as Sinclair Industries, I’m sure you’ll agree?’
‘But I thought his grandfather…?’
‘Oh, Mr Jacob kept a steady hand on the tiller,’ Wallace agreed. ‘But he was seventy himself at the time, and the death of his only son affected him very deeply, as you can imagine. It was left to Master Sin to carry most of the load, then and since.’
Luccy wasn’t sure she really wanted to hear any of this. The last thing she wanted to do was to start admiring Sin as well as loving him!
‘Of course, some people saw his youth as a weakness, and tried to take advantage of it,’ Wallace continued with a frown.
Like that female employee of Sinclair Industries who had thought sleeping with the boss was a sure-fire way of attaining promotion…
She gave a rueful smile. ‘You’re very proud of Sin, aren’t you, Wallace?’
‘As if he were my own son,’ he answered immediately. ‘Like the son I should have had, but—well…it wasn’t to be, I’m afraid,’ he added with husky regret.
Luccy could hear the emotional tremor in his voice, and she could see the sadness in his eyes.
Wallace should have had a son?
Sin tried to settle down to work once he reached his study, dealing with several phone calls, including the one to his mother. As expected she was making plans to fly to New York, supposedly for his birthday on Saturday and some shopping she wanted to do in New York, but assuring him that she intended staying in the city with Jacob rather than here with him.
Sin supposed he should be grateful for small mercies; despite what he might have said to Luccy earlier, he knew it would not be a good idea to have his mother and Luccy in the same house until things were more settled.
If they ever were!
If breakfast this morning was anything to go by, they could still be fighting in twenty years’ time, about everything and anything…
The two of them making love again last night probably hadn’t helped, Sin acknowledged as he sat behind his desk staring broodingly out the window once he had finished making his phone calls. He and Luccy would have to call some sort of truce, at least, because this constant contention between them couldn’t continue throughout the rest of her pregnancy.
Luccy wanted to leave and return to her life in England.
Sin was just as determined that she wouldn’t.
Was it just about the baby?
Was any of this about the baby?
Sin became suddenly still. Was it just about the baby? Or was it—now that he had seen Luccy again, spent time with her, made love with her—that he wasn’t willing to let her go?
Damn it, she had used him two months ago. Had seen a bigger chance for herself when she had recognised him in the restaurant that evening—
Yet he only had Paul Bridger’s word for that. Luccy still vehemently denied those accusations.
Then what reason did she have for making love with him that night two months ago?
Because, like him, she had wanted to, had wanted him?
That was a possibility Sin hadn’t even considered after she’d disappeared so suddenly that night!
Luccy claimed she had left because she’d been embarrassed by what had happened.
No, maybe he should stop thinking in those terms. Maybe Luccy wasn’t claiming anything. Maybe she was just telling the truth?
He stood up abruptly. He needed to talk to Luccy. Not argue with her. Not threaten her. Not make love with her. Just talk to her.
‘What happened?’ Luccy prompted Wallace gently.
He smiled sadly. ‘I was young and foolish, invincible as only the very young believe themselves to be. I wanted it all. My career in the army. My wife and future child with me when I was posted overseas.’
Luccy wasn’t surprised this man had once been in the army; there was something about the way he walked, his bearing, that indicated he had been in the military.
She stood up to pour some coffee into a second mug, silently placing it in front of him as she resumed her own seat to look at him encouragingly. Wallace didn’t give the impression he was a man who talked about his personal life very often. If at all.
Wallace absently took a sip of the coffee. ‘My wife didn’t want to come with me that last time. She—she was five months pregnant, and didn’t think it was safe for the baby. She was right,’ Wallace told Luccy abruptly. ‘They both died.’
Sin had gone out onto the terrace looking for Luccy, and when he couldn’t find her either there or in her bedroom he went in search of Wallace to see if he knew where she had gone, half of him fearing that she had decided to leave, after all, despite him telling her not to.
He came to a stunned halt outside the kitchen door as he overheard part of the conversation between Luccy and Wallace. A conversation Sin knew he had no right to interrupt once he realised what the two of them were talking about.
He had known Wallace for years. Respected him. Loved him like a member of his own family. And yet he had never known that Wallace had once had a wife, let alone that she had been expecting his child.
He should go, leave them to it, and yet something made Sin stay…
‘I’m sure that wasn’t your fault,’ Luccy assured him.