The Complete Red-Hot And Historical Collection. Kelly Hunter

day their mother would come looking for them... She would explain why she’d had to abandon the babies she loved. It had been a childish game she had played, one she should have put away with her dolls, and yet she had clung to the comfort the possibility offered, even though she knew deep down that it was never going to happen.

      Now she knew for sure it was never going to happen.

      ‘Don’t look so sad, sweetheart.’

      ‘Who are you?’

      White-knuckled hands gripping the leather armrests, Seb closed his eyes. Keeping his anger in check was taking every ounce of his energy. He knew what was coming and he couldn’t stop it. He had to let it run its course and then be there for her. He ached for her pain—as if she hadn’t had enough pain in her young life.

      ‘I’m hurt you don’t recognise your old dad.’

      Mari’s eyes, very blue in her paper-white face, widened. She stood still as a statue, and she shook her head in a slow negative motion of denial; he couldn’t be her father.

      ‘I think you’d better leave now,’ she said firmly. ‘Before I call Security. Just put the miniature down and walk away.’

      ‘My, quite the little princess, aren’t we? But you’ve done well for yourself,’ he conceded. ‘It has to be said you’ve really fallen on your feet.’ He looked around the room and gave an approving nod.

      ‘If you don’t leave now, I’m afraid I’ll have to report you to your employer.’

      He gave a hoot of laughter; the sound was not pleasant. ‘I’m not on the payroll, but this—’ he touched the logo emblazoned on his chest with a touch of smug pride in his voice ‘—made it a lot easier to get in here.’

      ‘You’re not my father.’ Say it often enough and you’ll believe it, Mari. Silencing the voice of her subconscious but not the quiver of uncertainty in her voice, she lifted her chin. ‘I don’t have a father.’

      ‘Look again, my lovely.’ He pointed to his face, watching hers, his narrow eyes no longer smiling.

      Startled as much by his change of accent as the invitation, she allowed her eyes to rest on the face of the man who claimed to be her father, which was ridiculous. He was nothing like any of the visions she had of her parent. She and Mark had always... Mark. Pressing a hand to her stomach in an effort to counter the sick churning inside, she understood why his face had seemed so familiar. It was no individual feature, nothing was identical, similarities were blurred, but it was there in the slant of the eyes and the curve of the lips, though her brother’s was fuller and inclined to petulance and not meanness.

      She lowered her lashes in a protective shield, but not, it seemed, before the man—she couldn’t even think of him as a father—read her expression.

      He gave a crow of triumph.

      Pride came to her rescue. She lifted her chin and looked at him levelly. ‘Why are you here?’

      ‘To see my daughter.’

      ‘After twenty-four years?’ She eyed him warily, struggling not to show the fear that was building inside her, focusing instead on her anger. ‘You know nothing about being a father, a parent,’ she flashed, smiling as she realised that her child would have a father, the sort of father who would give his life for his child.

      ‘Don’t worry. I don’t want to hang around any more than you want me here,’ he snarled, visibly unsettled by the change in her manner. ‘It’s just I’m a bit short of cash at the moment and you’re... We could call it a loan.’

      Mari felt physically sick. This man was her father... She gave a shudder of revulsion and wondered when this nightmare would stop. ‘I don’t have any money.’

      ‘But your husband does—pots of the stuff.’ He rubbed his hands together in gleeful anticipation of the luck that had come his way.

      ‘How did you find me?’

      ‘Saw your picture in the paper, knew you the moment I saw who you were—amazing. You were an ugly little thing when you were born, red and screaming.’ He gave a shudder of distaste.

      ‘I have no money,’ she repeated flatly.

      ‘But you can get it. I don’t think your posh husband is going to be quite so keen if he finds out your dad has a prison record. Can’t you see the headlines now?’

      This overt attempt at blackmail took her breath away. She looked at him in utter disgust. It was not often that you came across someone without a single redeeming feature, but it seemed that her biological father was one of those people. It was hard to face, but it was the cold, stark truth, and better to face it and move on.

      A great sentiment, but at that moment all she wanted to do was weep until she had no tears left.

      ‘Go to hell,’ she said conversationally.

      ‘I don’t think you quite understand—’

      The sound of a chair scraping the floor made parent and child spin around.

      ‘No, it is you who do not understand. How long did you go away for the last time—five, out in two? I think you’ll find that the law is less sympathetic to blackmail... With your record what are we talking, fifteen...?’

      ‘Now, hold on, I came here to see my little girl,’ he blustered.

      Seb took a step closer, towering over the older man not just in his physical presence but his character. ‘Not your little girl, my woman. You will empty your pockets, you will leave now and you will never come back. Believe me, you’ll live to regret it if you don’t.’

      Looking visibly shaken, the older man began to back towards the door. Once there he raised his fist and shook it at them both. ‘You’ll be sorry when I sell my story.’

      * * *

      ‘I’m sorry.’

      Seb turned, the pallor of her face causing him a spasm of alarm.

      ‘What if he does?’ she said, struggling to control the bubble of hysteria she could hear in her voice. ‘The royal deal.’

      ‘Forget him...’ he roughed out. It was Mari he was worried about. ‘Forget the bloody deal.’

      She blinked, misunderstanding him. ‘Of course, the dinner.’ She took a deep breath. ‘People will be arriving. We need to greet them. Don’t worry, I won’t let you down.’

      ‘It doesn’t matter...’

      He was talking to air, as she had whisked out of the room and straight into the royal party.

      Jaw clenched in frustration and left little choice, Seb painted on a social face and followed her.

      * * *

      Ironically, after dreading it Mari found herself dealing with the dinner without even a flicker of nerves, because she had bigger things to worry about now than using the wrong fork or forgetting the name of a famous guest.

      She knew it was only delaying the inevitable, but as far as she was concerned it could go on forever. There was zero point pretending—she’d seen the seething contempt in Seb’s eyes when he had given her father his marching orders. In Seb’s eyes she was tainted. Where did that leave them?

      Nowhere good.

      The royal prince seated to her right said something and she smiled and nodded, not having a clue what he had said, but glad of the opportunity to look anywhere but at Seb. Normally at ease in any social situation—she had always envied him his poise—he had barely said a word to anyone all night.

      ‘You are a lucky man, Seb.’

      Seb tore his eyes from Mari and wondered why the hell it had seemed like a good idea to have her seated at the opposite side of the table. This damned meal was just going on and on forever.

      ‘I