His face tightened. His eyes narrowed to sizzling slits. He didn’t like her sympathy, didn’t want it. Sally tensed, expecting some kind of hit back at her, but the moment of venom passed and mockery took its place.
“But I did, Sally. With the bonus of taking from your mother the hallowed home which I was never allowed to darken.”
The little hope in her heart died. There would be no softening over the eviction.
“Would you have darkened it if the welcome mat had been put out for you?” she asked, remembering the day he had been turned away.
He shrugged. “If I had ever been welcomed in my father’s home, many things might have been different. As it is…people reap what they sow.” His lips twitched in sardonic amusement. “And I make a very good Grim Reaper.”
Dark and diabolical.
A little shiver ran down Sally’s spine.
Was her mother right? Should she leave now, not listen to any deal he might put to her? Was she playing into his hands—hands that couldn’t be trusted—by staying with him?
The elevator came to a halt.
The doors slid open.
He gestured for her to precede him out of the compartment.
Her gaze flicked up to his, fearful, uncertain. The biting blue eyes glittered with challenge, calling her a coward if she failed to respond. Her feet moved forward even while her heart hammered at the thought she was walking straight into a lion’s den. But they would be surrounded by other people while they had lunch. It wasn’t as though they’d be really alone, she told herself, so what harm could come to her?
She let him escort her into the restaurant and pretended to be captivated by its spectacular view over Sydney as they were led to a table for two and seated comfortably in plush armchairs upholstered in blue. It truly was a sky room. Even the blue and white décor was designed to make the occupants feel they were floating on clouds, looking down on the world. A waiter handed them luncheon menus and took an order of two glasses of champagne from Jack before leaving them to decide on what they wanted to eat.
She looked at him then—the man who now owned everything her father had built—her eyes deriding his choice of drink. “Do you expect me to toast your victory, Jack?”
He laughed, amused by her defiance. It lightened his face, making him look wickedly attractive, causing Sally’s pulse to skitter into a wild beat. She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself and he seemed amused by that, too, enjoying the power he was exerting over her.
“I’m in the mood to celebrate,” he drawled.
“The king is dead. Long live the king?” she shot back at him, bridling against any levity over her father’s death.
He shook his head, his expression sobering. “Did you love him, Sally?”
She hesitated, realising she had not really been grieving over her father’s death, the initial shock of it gradually giving way to apprehension about what it would mean to her own and Jane’s lives. Sir Leonard Maguire had been more like a dominating presence, someone who demanded his due for what he gave, rather than a father who naturally inspired a caring closeness. His coldness towards Jane had not endeared him to Sally.
“He was not an easy man to love,” she said truthfully. “But there were some good times with him.”
“Did he love you?”
Again she was thrown into examining her relationship with the man who had denied Jack any love, which made her acutely aware of the wound she might give if she answered yes. Though she didn’t think that was the truth anyway.
“He was not the kind of man to show open affection,” she answered slowly. “But I know he liked me and was proud of my achievements in showjumping.”
“You performed for him,” Jack commented sardonically.
Pride made her say, “I performed more for myself.”
He nodded. “Earning his approval.”
She couldn’t deny it. The best times with her father had been when she’d won. If she made mistakes, rode badly, disappointed him…he turned away from her as though she didn’t belong to him. Which always hurt no matter how much she mentally armoured herself against it, silently vowing she’d do better next time.
“What about Jane?”
Too many hurts there. Despite all her younger sister’s efforts to please their father, Sally had always felt Jane, at best, was only ever tolerated by him, but she wasn’t about to say so, to lay out Jane’s problems to a man who had every reason not to care about them, might even find some satisfaction in the misery of one of the adopted daughters.
“We’re not here to talk about my sister,” she reminded him.
He shrugged. “Just curious. My mother said he had no love in him. Which was certainly my experience. I wondered if it was true for you and Jane.”
It gave her pause for thought. Was he simply trying to make sense of what had happened between him and their father? It was difficult to make comparisons. Sir Leonard had expected them to perform for him, all in their separate ways. He had provided them with everything and they had shown their appreciation by keeping his home life as pleasant as they could. It was what their mother had trained them to do. He had been the lynch pin around which their lives had revolved. Now that he was gone, they were adrift.
She hadn’t ever loved her father. What had always been instilled in her was a respect for who he was—the rich powerful man who had given her the chance to do what she wanted and applauded her for it. She didn’t love her mother, either, having picked up from early childhood that “dutiful daughter” was the role she was required to fulfil, never a needy one wanting too much time and attention. She and Jane had been well and truly taught their place in the Maguire household.
But what was their place now?
The sense of loss crashed down on her again.
Would Jack Maguire offer some kind of life raft for her to cling to?
“Is there any love in you?” she asked, searching his face for a soft answer.
There was none. “I loved my mother. She died when I was twenty,” he stated grimly.
Before he returned to Australia and ran straight into the stonewall rejection of both his father and stepmother. A life emptied of any family, she thought, his natural place taken by her and Jane. Did he hate them for it?
“Do you love Lady Ellen, Sally?”
She sighed, a heavy weight dragging on her heart. “What was done to you was wrong—shutting you out of our lives—but you wouldn’t have fitted into my mother’s regime, Jack.”