Oh, God! His wife! And what about children? Had the marriage produced children? She hated the very thought, but she had to find out.
Her eyes slashed at him. 'What about your wife? Your children?' she demanded, heart racing.
'I have no children,' came the brusque reply.
Cassie swallowed. 'And your wife? Where's she? Will she be living here with you?'
'No.'
'Another convenient separation?'
'No.'
'What, then?'
His face was grim. 'My wife...is dead.'
Cassie was rocked, as much by the announcement as by an unwanted sympathy for Dan. He sounded so...desolate.
'When?' she rasped.
'Just over a year ago.'
Any sympathy vanished. 'A year ago,' she repeated flatly. Twelve whole months. Fifty-two weeks. Three hundred and sixty-five days. More than enough time to contact her... If he truly cared. It was the final nail in his coffin. 'I see,' she said in a flat, lifeless voice.
'You don't see at all!' Dan growled. 'You've taken everything the wrong way. You don't believe I still care about you!'
'No,' she stated with cruel honesty. 'I don't.'
'Hell!' He raked his hands through his hair, disturbing the veneer of polished elegance. The dishevelled waves reminded her of the Dan she had first met—the slightly messy, struggling artist. Or so she had believed at the time.
But it had all been an act, a game, a fantasy.
Cassie turned away. She didn't want to be reminded of the past. She had been such a little fool then. She had no intention of being one again.
Suddenly, she remembered and looked at her watch. After five... If she wasn't home soon her mother would be sure to come looking for her.
'I have to go,' she said brusquely, and moved towards the door.
Dan was there before her. He opened it, but barred her exit. 'No. Let's get it all straight between us, Cassie. There's too much that's been left unexplained.'
Her eyes were hard. 'You're too late, Dan. Get out of my way.'
He glared at her for a moment, then stepped aside. 'I won't let it finish like this, Cassie,' he said as she walked past him. 'You must know that.'
She stopped and eyed him fiercely over her shoulder. 'And you must know, Dan, that I'm a grown woman now. I have a mind of my own. No one, least of all you, forces me to do anything!'
She set her jaw, suddenly determined to act out her strong words. She would not run away. She would not move. If and when Dan found out about Jason, she would deal with it. He might not discover the boy's existence for ages. He might even quit Strath-haven before doing so.
Dan was watching her with a reproachful expression. 'You've grown hard, Cassie.'
'No, Dan, just wise...wise to men like you.'
'I'm not what you think.'
Her smile was cold. 'Goodbye, Dan. Live here if you must, but don't cross that bridge. Don't try to see me.'
'And if I do?'
She swept on, away from his veiled threat, away from her treacherous responses. She should never have let him kiss her. Never! But, oh...the pleasure his lips evoked, the desire his touch uncurled.
She stuffed a fist in her mouth to stifle her moan of dismay and hurried on, down the hall, past the noisy auction-room, out into the bright, bright sunshine, there to grind to a horrified halt.
Her mother was coming across the suspension bridge. And running ahead, up the hill, through the hedge, his legs going like pistons, his hair flying, was Jason.
A noise behind her had Cassie whirling.
It was Dan, holding her denim bag. 'You forgot this,' he said.
Stricken, she didn't know where to turn, where to look.
'Mum! Mum!' Jason called as he raced up the stairs to meet her.
CHAPTER FOUR
Cassie heard Dan's sharp intake of breath. When he stepped forward to be level with her, a swift glance verified his utter shock.
Her eyes flew back to her son, travelling anxiously over his slight figure as he bounced up on to the veranda. Jason was not overly big for his age, so there was some hope that Dan would not put two and two together.
But it was a slim hope. She only had to look frankly at the boy to know that Dan wouldn't be fooled for long. He might not be an artist by profession, but he had an artist's keen observation, and while Jason's hair was mid-brown and quite straight, not at all like Dan's thick black waves, the eyes were a dead giveaway. They were jet black, deep-set and piercing. The exact image of his father's.
Jason reached the veranda, coming to an untidy halt in front of her. 'We won, Mum. We won! Isn't that terrific? And guess what—next week I'm going to have a go as wicket-keeper.'
She dared not look Dan's way, but she could feel the electric tension emanating from his rocklike body. 'That's wonderful, love,' she said, and gave Jason a hug. Be damned with you, Dan McKay! she thought defiantly.
'Hey, Mum, did you see that helicopter over there? Isn't it terrific? Wouldn't I just love to have a ride in that!'
Cassie grimaced at her son's prattle. All she wanted to do was get away. The situation was excruciating for her. She was afraid that the penny would drop and Dan would make a scene. 'Jason, I don't think ‑'