‘I believe I saw Mr O’Reilly go through to the bar a short time ago.’ The pretty hotel receptionist answered her query brightly.
Laura was sure that if that was what this young lady believed, then it was true; Liam’s attractiveness certainly hadn’t dimmed over the years!
‘Thank you.’ She smiled distractedly, her steps reluctant as she walked towards the hotel bar. If Liam was drinking again…!
Do it, Laura, she told herself firmly. You came here to talk to him, and that’s what you’re going to do.
He sat alone in a corner booth of the dimly lit bar, a glass of what looked like whisky in front of him. Untouched whisky, if the high level in the glass was any indication.
Laura came to a halt beside his table, managing to remain unmoving as, sensing her presence, he looked up at her, his gaze instantly fiercely angry.
‘What do you want?’ he demanded unpleasantly, the lines about his eyes and mouth more pronounced.
What she really wanted was for him to sit there and listen while she talked, saying nothing in response to anything she said, and then for him to let her leave again!
‘Can I join you?’ she said quietly.
‘Why not? It’s a free country. Although there are plenty of empty tables if you just want a drink.’
‘I don’t.’ She slid onto the bench-seat opposite his in the booth. ‘You left earlier before I had finished talking,’ she explained softly.
His gaze was scathing as he straightened, one hand reaching out, the fingers curling about the glass of whisky. ‘Don’t look so worried,’ he derided as she gave a wary glance at the glass. ‘I ordered this twenty minutes ago and I haven’t touched any of it yet!’ But there’s still time, his words seemed to imply!
Laura sighed heavily, shaking her head in the direction of the young barman as he came over to see if she would like a drink; she already knew she wasn’t going to enjoy the next few minutes, and Dutch courage wasn’t going to help!
She drew in a deep breath. ‘Liam, there are—things about my marriage that you can’t possibly be aware of,’ she began carefully. ‘Circumstances that—’
‘Are we talking about Bobby?’ he cut in harshly.
She swallowed hard. ‘What about Bobby?’
‘Maybe these will help,’ Liam ground out, reaching into the breast pocket of his jacket to pull out several photographs. He placed them carefully, side by side, on the table in front of her.
Laura moved forward slowly, looking down at those photographs. Apart from the fact that the clothes were all wrong, dating the photographs at thirty years or so ago, the little boy smiling into the camera in all of them could have been Bobby!
‘You?’ she managed to croak.
‘I asked my mother for them when I was in Ireland,’ Liam confirmed, gathering up the photographs to put them back in the pocket of his jacket.
Laura moistened dry lips. ‘How long have you known?’
‘That you must have been pregnant when I left eight years ago?’ Liam paused. ‘From the first moment I set eyes on Bobby.’
Her eyes widened incredulously at the admission. ‘Then why—?’
‘Why didn’t I say something?’ Liam finished raggedly. ‘I’ve been waiting for you to tell me! Again I was being stupid.’
‘I was going to tell you—’
‘When?’ he demanded.
‘Tonight. But before I could—’
‘I realised that your husband had been your beloved Uncle Rob!’
‘We decided when we got married that it would be better for everyone if I called him Robert in future,’ Laura put in inconsequentially.
‘Convenient,’ Liam drawled.
She shook her head. ‘Why are you making this so hard for me, Liam?’ she choked.
“‘Hard for you”?’ he repeated savagely. ‘What I would really like to do is break your pretty little neck! I have no idea why you’ve come here, Laura.’ He drew in a deeply controlling breath. ‘I really think it might be better if you just left again.’
‘Better for whom?’ She was becoming angry herself now. ‘Just what do you think happened eight years ago, Liam? Do you think I lied to Robert, tried to pass Bobby off as his son? Is that why you’re so angry? Because I can assure you Robert was never in any doubt about the fact that he wasn’t Bobby’s father. He couldn’t have been,’ she added emotionally, her hands clenched tightly together.
Liam became very still, looking at her through narrowed lids. ‘Why couldn’t he?’ he finally said slowly, obviously not seeing any of the answers in her face.
She turned in her seat, opening up her handbag. ‘I brought a photograph of my own to show you, Liam.’ She placed it in front of him, much the way he had done to her seconds ago.
Liam glanced down. ‘I’ve already seen it, thanks,’ he said, pushing away the photograph he had looked at so intently at the house a short time ago.
She nodded. ‘What you can’t see, what you can’t possibly know, is that slightly out of this picture is a wheelchair. Robert’s wheelchair,’ she explained shakily. ‘The wheelchair he had been confined to for twenty years.’
Liam reached out to slowly pull the photograph back towards him, peering down at the images.
Laura knew exactly what he would see on closer inspection; the way Robert’s legs were bent slightly unnaturally, his awkwardness as he held baby Bobby in his arms. Robert had injured his lower spine playing rugby twenty years earlier, had been completely paralysed from the waist down.
‘It never stopped him from doing the things he wanted to do.’ Laura spoke tearfully. ‘He was very supportive while I was pregnant, was present at the birth, would get up in the night and feed Bobby. He played with him for hours, never tired of being with him. Just looking at him…’ she recalled brokenly. ‘He cried the first time Bobby called him Daddy. He never believed he would be lucky enough to become a father, you see.’
Liam swallowed convulsively, looking down at the photograph once again. ‘Were you in love with him?’ he asked gruffly. ‘Tell me, Laura!’ he insisted harshly as she hesitated.
‘I’ve tried to tell you how I felt about him, but you don’t seem to be listening.’ She sighed. ‘I loved Robert very much. But I wasn’t in love with him.’ How could she have been, when the only man she had ever loved was sitting opposite her?
Was she getting through to him? Did Liam understand? Could he see—?
Liam straightened. ‘I don’t think this is the place for us to discuss this, Laura,’ he said abruptly, pushing the glass of whisky away untouched.
‘Will you come up to my suite with me?’ He looked across at her with narrowed eyes.
He no longer looked dangerous, just weighed down with a sadness Laura didn’t completely understand. But she would like to…
‘Yes, I’ll come with you,’ she answered softly, picking her bag up in readiness for leaving.
Liam took a light hold of her elbow as they walked across the reception area to the lift, but the two of them moved apart once they had stepped inside, neither of