Xander hadn’t recognised Malcolm on Saturday, and a part of Sam didn’t want Xander to know that she had once been married to a man like Malcolm Howard, let alone that he was now threatening her.
She trembled every time she thought of her earlier conversation with Malcolm—which had been often in the past few hours! She knew she couldn’t allow Malcolm to come even close to demanding visiting rights with Daisy.
Which meant what?
That she would have to telephone Malcolm and agree to have dinner with him this evening, at least?
Sam hated the thought of even doing that, let alone agreeing to Malcolm’s other demands.
But she knew Malcolm too well, knew how clever he was at pretence, how charming he could be, and how easily he would be able to fool a judge into believing he was totally contrite regarding his previous attitude towards his daughter, and that he now wanted the chance to become a father to her.
Daisy would be totally bewildered by suddenly having a father she had never known thrust into her life. Her daughter would be hurt and confused. Miserable. And Sam would be just as miserable, but also worried out of her mind on those occasions when Malcolm was allowed to take Daisy out. It simply couldn’t be allowed to happen.
She looked up at Xander. ‘Would you please release me?’
Xander looked down at her searchingly, totally unsettled by the look of pained resolve in her eyes. As if she had come to a decision she didn’t like. A decision she hated, if the grey tinge to her cheeks was any indication.
His mouth thinned. ‘Answer my question, Samantha.’
‘Release me now, Xander.’ She challenged him as she pulled out of his arms.
Leaving Xander with no choice but to reach out and grasp hold of the breakfast bar in an effort to stop himself from overbalancing and toppling over, at the same time as he reached out with the other hand to fold the length of his fingers about Samantha’s wrist to prevent her from moving any further away from him.
Samantha’s gasp of pain was the last reaction Xander was expecting to so light a physical touch. ‘What’s wrong?’ He scowled darkly as he lifted her arm and saw the bandage wrapped about her wrist, previously concealed beneath the long-sleeved red shirt she had changed into after taking Daisy to school. ‘What happened to your wrist?’ he demanded. ‘Did you cut yourself? Sprain your wrist? Tell me how you did this, Samantha.’
‘Or what? Will you make me tell you, Xander?’ she added scornfully. ‘Refuse to release me until I do?’
All of the above, as far as Xander was concerned, because he was not allowing Samantha to leave this kitchen until he knew exactly what was going on with her. Because something most certainly was!
Except...
He could see by Samantha’s almost resigned expression that she was expecting him to bully her into giving him an answer.
Xander might be guilty of a lot of things—might now be living in fear of his temper allowing him to do even worse things—but bullying a woman, in any way, certainly wasn’t one of them.
He maintained a light hold on Samantha’s arm as his thoughts drifted back to this morning. She had seemed quiet but cheerful enough when she’d made them all breakfast. Her mood had only changed to one of complete introspection after she’d returned from taking Daisy to school. The same time that she had changed into the long-sleeved shirt.