‘Yes, poor Tilly needs to go and lie down. She started with a headache on the way back—didn’t you, darling?’
Tilly shot Silas a reproving look, but he was too busy convincing her mother that she wasn’t going to be well enough to emerge from their bedroom for at least a couple of hours.
‘Well, I’m sure that Art and the boys won’t mind keeping you company in the bar, Silas,’ Annabelle told him, before turning to Tilly to say reproachfully, ‘I wanted to show you my dress and the sketches Lucy has done for the flowers. Perhaps if you just took a couple of aspirin you wouldn’t need to lie down…?’
Tilly wavered. She was so used to answering her mother’s needs when she was with her, and Annabelle was looking at her like a disappointed child deprived of a special treat, making her feel wretchedly guilty. But Silas had reached for her hand and was very discreetly, but very sensually, caressing the pulse-point on the inside of her wrist. Her desire for him was turning her bones and her conscience to jelly.
She looked at her mother and lifted her free hand to her forehead. ‘Silas is right, Ma.’ she told her. ‘I really do need to lie down.’
Five minutes later, when Silas locked the door to their room and leaned on it for good measure, taking her in his arms and drawing her very deliberately into the cradle of his hips so that she could feel his arousal, Tilly shook her head at him.
‘I don’t believe I’ve just done that. I’ve never lied to my mother before…’
‘When there’s a conflict of interests I’m delighted that you opted to choose me,’ Silas teased her.
Tilly didn’t respond to his smile as readily as he had expected. ‘Loving someone shouldn’t mean abandoning your own moral code. Telling my mother I had a headache when I haven’t…’
‘What would you have preferred to do? Tell her that we wanted to make love?’
Tilly exhaled in defeat. ‘No,’ she admitted. ‘But it still doesn’t make me feel good.’
‘Maybe this will, though.’
Silas was teasing her with small, unsatisfying kisses that made her reach up for him and pull his head down to hers…
‘You remember that TV show Dallas? Well, I’m telling you that was nothing compared with the reality of how the oil business was in my father’s time. I started working in the family business straight out of school. My father said that was the best way to learn.’ Art reached for his drink and emptied his glass, demanding, ‘Come on Dwight, I thought you were playing bartender. Set them up again, will you?’
It was almost dinnertime, and to judge from his slurred voice and red face Silas suspected that Art had been drinking for the best part of the afternoon. He had greeted them affably enough when they had finally come downstairs dressed for dinner, and had then begun reminiscing about the early days of his family’s oil business. Silas, sensing that this might be the breakthrough he needed, had encouraged him to keep talking by asking him judicially timed questions. He suspected from the bored expressions on the faces of Art’s sons-in-law that they had heard all Art’s stories before.
‘I imagine you must have known all the big players in the old oil world?’ Silas suggested casually.
‘Sure did,’ Art agreed boastfully. ‘I knew ’em all.’
‘Even Jay Byerly?’
‘Yep. He was some guy, was Jay. He had a handle on just about everything that was goin’ on.’
‘I know that the shareholders voted him off the board of his own company in the end, but no one ever said why.’ While they had been talking Silas had filled up Art’s glass, making sure that he didn’t fill up his own.
‘For goodness’ sake, no one wants to hear all those old stories all over again. Poor Annabelle will be so bored she’ll change her mind about wanting to marry you if you don’t change the subject,’ Cissie-Rose exclaimed with acid sweetness, sweeping into the room in a dress that was more suitable for a full-scale diplomatic reception rather than what was supposed to be a quiet family dinner. ‘You really mustn’t encourage him, Silas,’ she added, giving Silas and Tilly the kind of posed and patently artificial smile that showed off her excellent teeth and the cold enmity in her eyes. ‘Are you really sure you’re over your headache, Tilly?’ she asked. ‘Only, if you don’t mind my saying so, you really don’t look well. There’s nothing like a headache for making a person look run-down.’
‘Annabelle, why don’t you girls go and talk wedding talk in one of the other rooms?’ Art suggested.
Tilly suspected that he had been enjoying basking in the attention of Silas’s good-mannered social questions, and that he wasn’t very pleased about Cissie-Rose’s interruption. Although he wasn’t exactly slurring his words, he had had what to Tilly seemed to be rather a lot to drink. Her doubts about the wisdom of her mother marrying him were growing by the hour.
‘Silas is just being polite, Dad. Why on earth should he be interested in what happened over thirty years ago? Unless, of course, someone’s thinking of making a film of Jay’s life and you’re hoping to be invited to try for the lead part, Silas.’
Cissie-Rose’s claws were definitely unsheathed now, Tilly recognised. The other woman’s cattiness made her want to place herself physically in front of Silas to protect him. Although the thought of Silas needing anyone defending him, least of all her, made her smile to herself.
‘Ignore her, Silas,’Art instructed, giving his daughter a baleful look. ‘You’re right. There was a scandal Jay was involved in that threatened to blow him and the business sky-high. Luckily a few of the big old boys called in some of their debts and managed to get it all quietened down. Jay had been buying up oil leases and then—’
‘Daddy, I don’t think you should say any more,’ Cissie-Rose interrupted her father sharply. ‘It’s all in the past now, anyway. Annabelle, I have to say that those sketches you were showing me for the flowers are just so pretty.’
It wasn’t worth pushing Art any further, Silas decided. There would still be plenty of opportunity for him to pick up their conversation between now and the wedding on New Year’s Eve. All he had to do was to make sure he mixed Art a jugful of extra-strong whiskey sour.
‘CHRISTMAS EVE and I’ve already had the best present I could ever have,’ Tilly told Silas emotionally.
They were in their bedroom getting ready for dinner, having spent the afternoon outside in the snowy garden playing with the children. Or rather Tilly had played with them while Silas had watched.
‘It’s kind of you to be so patient with Art, Silas. His face positively lights up when you walk in and let him tell his stories. He must be exaggerating some of them, though.’ Tilly gave a small shiver. ‘It seems wrong that men like Art should have had that kind of power and abused it the way they did.’
‘Things are different now,’ Silas agreed. ‘But as for Art exaggerating what happened in the past…’ He paused, all too aware of what he knew that Tilly did not. ‘If anything,’ he told her heavily, ‘I suspect that Art is using rather a lot of whitewash to conceal some of what went on. Of course most of those who perpetrated the worst of the crimes are no longer around, but that doesn’t mean the world doesn’t need to know about them.’
‘I’m so lucky to have met you,’ Tilly said spontaneously. As he looked at her Silas felt his heart turn over inside his chest slowly and achingly as his love for her overwhelmed him. He reached for her hand, entwining his fingers with hers. He still found it hard at