Another Man's Son Read online

  Table of Contents

  Excerpt

  Praise for Glenys O’Connell’s

  Another Man’s Son

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  A word about the author...

  Thank you for purchasing this publication of The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  He should have known she’d come to see him. Women like her treated men like something they’d wipe off the soles of their shoes. Once a man got them out from under his skin, they ran back to try and get that old itch scratched again.

  He schooled his expression to show none of these thoughts as five minutes later one of the deputies, Roy Webb, showed a pale-faced Kathryn into the office. Ben thanked the deputy, then silently indicated that Kathryn should sit on one of the hard, uncomfortable visitor chairs before returning to the file he was reading. Or pretending to read—the sight of her took his breath away, and he watched her covertly from under his brows. Dark rings under her eyes accentuated her paleness. She was thinner than he remembered, dressed in an expensive designer suit in a pale oyster color that accentuated her pale skin and luminous green eyes. Her features had matured and she had developed a poise that suited her. The pretty girl he had known had become a stunningly beautiful woman.

  Finally, when he could put it off no longer, Ben signed his name with a flourish, placed the paperwork back into its file, and dropped it in his out basket. He leaned back in his chair, met her direct gaze, and asked, “What can I do for you, Mrs. Morgan?”

  Something flickered across her face at his tone, at the slight emphasis on her married title. She pushed back a stray lock of hair with fingers that shook a little, but her voice was even as she replied. “I’ve come to you because I need help, Ben.”

  Praise for Glenys O’Connell’s

  RESORT TO MURDER

  “I thoroughly enjoyed this fantastic romantic suspense. The...complex story line was enhanced by the wonderful characters...the supporting cast was fabulous with almost no one being quite what they appeared at first. The pace enhances the two main mysteries of the story. The time frame is not dragged out as Ellie tries to separate the bribery charges from the serial killer case and it makes for an intricate puzzle. Liam and Ellie have a complicated relationship that is due mainly to lack of honesty and communication. They were forever revealing their true feelings in their private thoughts and denying them out loud. I found the mystery itself to be top-notch all the way from the first paragraph to the ominous ending. I can’t wait to see what else this author has in store.”

  ~The Romance Studio

  ~*~

  “This is a story about love and loss, wounds and forgiveness, expectations and disappointment, broken trust and trust regained. I own up to really liking mystery novels so I was hooked from the first. That there was a fascinating love relationship gone awry contained within pleased me immensely...I love England—I am a true Anglophile—so the context of the story drew me in as well.

  It is well-written and researched, all the parts assembled with skill and care, and testifying to a writer with a great deal of writing finesse and talent. Just the kind of book we readers really don’t want to miss.”

  ~Long and Short Reviews

  Another Man’s Son

  by

  Glenys O’Connell

  Lobster Cove Series

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

  Another Man’s Son

  COPYRIGHT © 2014 by Glenys O’Connell

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press, Inc. except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

  Contact Information: [email protected]

  Cover Art by Tina Lynn Stout

  The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

  PO Box 708

  Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708

  Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com

  Publishing History

  First Crimson Rose Edition, 2014

  Print ISBN 978-1-62830-618-7

  Digital ISBN 978-1-62830-619-4

  Lobster Cove Series

  Published in the United States of America

  Chapter One

  The growl of the powerful engine turned heads among the early tourist crowd as Ben Asher rode the Harley hog along the waterfront. It was early evening and the sun was just slipping down below the ocean, tickling the quiet wavelets with pink and purple, painting the sky rich shades of rose and crimson.

  He let the big bike drift to a stop near one of the piers, pausing to let the familiar essence of the tourist trap town wash over him—the smells of hot dogs and pretzel stands, the salty tang of the sea, the screams of laughter from people and the squawks of gulls.

  The beauty of the coastal town made little impression on him as he started up the motorcycle again and, making a sharp turn from Main onto Pine and out into the countryside, finally slowed to pass through an ornate gateway into the parking lot of The Club. He cut the engine and, in the sudden silence that followed, gulls squawked at the intrusion from the rooftops of the elegant country club. Music and laughter spilled out from the upscale establishment as well dressed people came and went from the celebration inside.

  Celebrating was not something Ben planned to do tonight. This was a command performance, his presence having been required by the town’s councillors to introduce him as the newly-appointed sheriff, even if it was a temporary situation while Sheriff Lawton was on her honeymoon.

  He straddled the bike for a few minutes longer, putting off his appearance with the town’s movers and shakers. He unzipped his leather jacket, enjoying the nip of the cool evening air. Seven years had passed since he’d shaken the dust of Lobster Cove from his feet, and he wasn’t happy to be back.

  ****

  Kathryn Morgan gripped the smooth wood of the low balcony rail to steady herself as she surveyed the glittering crowd swaying rhythmically to music on the small, crowded dance floor below. She’d drunk champagne on an empty stomach to bolster herself for this evening and already the bubbly brew was taking effect, making her light-headed and manically happy.

  She had balked at coming here tonight; knowing it would be too painful to bear. He was going to be here. Pain and anger had ambushed her when they’d told her the town was holding a special celebration dinner for homecoming hero and new acting sheriff, Ben Asher. How she once had longed to see his face again, and then later prayed she never would.

  Under the crystal chandeliers in The Club’s ballroom were the same familiar faces. People she’d known all her life. No, not known, she corrected herself. Kathryn Fitzgerald had been too lowly to actually be friends with these folk who even now tolerated her only because she was Ketler Morgan, Junior’s wife. These were the upper echelons of this small town society, people who nodded acknowledgement of her because of her place at the top of the heap. But friends? No, her friends weren’t here tonight. Kathryn sighed. She’d done what she had to do for all th
e right reasons. What a pity the outcome was so wrong.

  She scanned the room for a glimpse of him, telling herself it didn’t matter, that she’d feel nothing after all this time. Had to feel nothing. Then he was there, looking exactly like he had when he’d boarded that bus seven years ago and broken her heart. She knew he couldn’t be the same. Time had surely changed both of them, but for a moment, she yearned to pretend she was eighteen years old again, to have him take her in his arms and let her think he had come back for her.

  The champagne had upset her balance and she clung tightly to the bannister rail as she carefully negotiated the ten stairs and stepped down onto the crowded floor. Dancing bodies milled around her and a Big Band tune sang in her senses as she struggled to catch another glimpse of him through the crowd.

  There he was. Without conscious thought, her feet found a path through the crowd toward him and then he stood before her. She saw immediately that while he looked the same, there were subtle differences beyond the seven years that had passed since they’d last met. Back then, he’d had the gawkiness of youth with the foreshadowing strength of the man he might become.

  And now—now he’d fulfilled that promise of manhood; the veiled glances of every woman in the room were testament to that. But there was the stamp of hard experience on his face, lines around his beautiful brown eyes. Ben Asher. The man she’d once loved so deeply she thought she’d die when he boarded the bus bound for the military training camp.

  Mesmerized, Kathryn moved into his arms as naturally as if she’d never been out of them, and he hugged her to him in a reflex action that spoke volumes about his feelings. They swayed to the slow and sentimental tune the band now played, neither of them speaking. She wasn’t surprised their dancing steps carried them through the big French doors and out onto the shadowed terrace. No surprise, either, as their lips met and melded in remembered passion.

  She clung to him, her mouth drinking him in as all her other senses sang with the feel and scent of the man she’d loved so long ago. He groaned softly as her fingers smoothed the thick dark hair at the nape of his neck and then touched warm flesh beneath his shirt collar.

  Her flesh burned with desire at his touch as long ago dreams began to stir and awaken. Dreams that were even more impossible than when they’d been young and deliriously in love.

  The dream was broken when an icy voice spoke from the doorway, “Well, Asher, I see you’ve met my wife.”

  They jumped apart like guilty things surprised. A feeling akin to physical pain flooded Kathryn as Ben pushed her roughly from him. The pain intensified, squeezing her heart, as she registered the sudden fury and contempt in his eyes as his gaze flicked between her and Ket Morgan, Junior. Her husband.

  It was a look that chased her dreams away so that when Ket moved to her side, taking her arm, she submitted dismally. Her head low, she heard the raw edge of anger concealed like a knife blade in her husband’s smooth voice as he said, “I must apologize for Kathryn’s behavior, Acting Chief Asher. It would appear she’s had a little too much to drink.”

  “I apologize too, Mr. Morgan. I’d forgotten she was a married woman.”

  “Ah, yes, I believe you knew my wife some years ago.” Ket’s voice was civil and coated in poison. Kathryn flinched as he went on. “I guess she chose the better man.”

  Ket grinned down at her in a parody of the indulgent husband. It was a performance deserving of an Academy Award, convincing onlookers of his devotion to his wife. Only Kathryn could feel the cruel bite of his fingers into her arm through the thin material of her sleeve.

  “I guess you could say that,” Ben replied, his tone of voice causing a quick frown to cross Ket’s face. “And I do apologize for the misunderstanding. It certainly won’t happen again.” Ben spoke to Ket but his eyes flicked to Kathryn.

  “Oh, I don’t blame you, Asher. My wife is a very attractive woman.” The triumphant possessiveness in Ket’s voice made her squirm; but Ben Asher’s words echoed in her soul: It certainly won’t happen again.

  The words rang in her ears all through the rest of that miserable evening. She heard them even through the bitter row with Ket as they waited for their car to be brought to the front of the club at the end of the evening ball.

  Ket had insisted they remain almost to the end of the reception, reminding her of their position in society. A position she’d promised to maintain, he reminded her, his fingers biting again into her upper arm to imprint his words in her mind as his fingers imprinted bruises on her delicate flesh. Nothing had changed. The fact Ben Asher was back in town meant absolutely nothing as far as their wedding vows were concerned. He’d saved his cruelest words for the end of the evening, as Kathryn had shivered miserably beneath her short fur jacket while the car jockey maneuvered Ket’s limousine toward them.

  “Don’t go getting your hopes up that he’ll be a shining knight on a white horse come to rescue you, my pretty wife,” Ket hissed in her ear. “Why would he want you, when you’re soiled goods as far as he’s concerned? After all, you’re mine now.”

  The car jockey opened the passenger door for her, but she stepped back. Seeing her hesitate, Ket grabbed her by the arm and tried to push her inside. “Don’t you dare make any more of a public spectacle of yourself than you already have. You’re my wife!”

  Something inside her snapped. “I’ll never be yours,” she asserted, the wind whipping her words into silence before passers-by could hear. “You don’t want me now, any more than you did when we married.”

  “But I promise you, he’ll never have you,” Ket Morgan hissed to his wife’s back, before turning away and getting into the driver’s seat of the big car. Before she could turn around, her husband had put the vehicle in gear and roared away. She watched in shock as he sped through the main gates and out onto the highway, leaving her alone and humiliated.

  Glancing down, she saw that Ket’s departing wheels had thrown a sprinkling of muddy rainwater all over her gown and jacket. She smiled bitterly. Now she looked as dirty as she felt.

  ****

  Ben looked out of the bar window at the sound of raised voices. Kathryn and her husband were arguing in the courtyard, no doubt about her earlier behavior. Guilt nagged at him, but he shrugged and signaled to the bartender to bring him another beer. Their fight had nothing to do with him.

  In fact, he thought, maybe he’d yell at his wife if he’d found her coming on to another man the way Kathryn had come on to him. If he had a wife, that is. Trying to shake the memory of how his shock at seeing her again had escalated into burning desire within nanoseconds, he glanced again at the couple standing on the rain-shadowed sidewalk.

  He half rose from his seat when the tall, slightly balding Ketler Morgan, Junior grabbed Kathryn by the arm and tried to push her into the car. He sank back as he saw her pull free and turn her back on her husband.

  Ben slugged down the rest of his beer as he watched Kathryn’s husband slam the door of the big, expensive car and roar off down the driveway, sloshing dirty, wet mud and gravel over her expensive evening gown. She just stood there, ashen faced under the bright light spilling from the clubhouse windows.

  No business of mine, he told himself. The incident was just a domestic spat, over and done with without them coming to blows. Nothing to involve the local law officer.

  The promised rain had started, but she was still there, huddled miserably in her short, fur jacket, when Ben walked out into the cold, wet night. Kathryn, wearing fur? The girl he’d loved had cared for animals and would never have worn their skins.

  “He’s gone, just like that. Left me here.” He knew she was crying, even as he recognized her struggle to keep the piteous tone out of her voice. “I don’t know how I’m going to get home.”

  Ben hardened his heart. Her problems didn’t concern him. “Try calling a cab.”

  She looked at him directly, with those wide green eyes that had made his heart skip a beat when he’d first encountered her on the dance floor earli
er that evening. As well as before, years ago, when he’d wanted to drown in their mysterious depths. But he knew better now.

  “I have no money.” She looked away to hide the shame that colored her cheeks and stared woodenly at the ground.

  “Can’t you ask for a ride from some of your fancy friends inside?” He indicated the clubhouse, where the dance continued and the sound of laughter and loud banter spilled out into the chilly evening.

  “I can’t. People will talk.”

  “You’d rather get drenched out here than face a little gossip?”

  She looked at him then. “You don’t understand.”

  “Oh, I think I understand very well.” She wasn’t going to play those games with him again, ever.

  Ben pulled out his mobile phone and located the number for a local taxi company, quickly ordering a cab to come to the club. He tucked a $20 bill into her cold fingers, ignoring the tiny frisson of heat that burned on his own fingers where they touched her skin.

  “Cab will be here in a few minutes,” he said over his shoulder as he walked away.

  Her soft voice reached him over the crunching of his boots on the wet gravel. Her words almost stopped him in his tracks. Almost.

  “Are all men bastards?”

  Chapter Two

  Early the next morning Kathryn quietly let herself into the big Morgan mansion that would never be home to her. She’d realized that from the very first day she’d arrived as a bride, when her new husband had left her in the car and gone striding into the house to join his father in the study for a drink. Kathryn had timidly followed him inside, thoroughly intimidated by her elegant surroundings.

  She’d followed the sound of low male voices but, opening the study door, she’d felt like an intruder as two pairs of cold male eyes swiveled toward her. And she’d continued to feel like an intruder even after Alex’s birth. Just as she felt like an intruder now, tiptoeing in like a teenager who’d overdone a curfew.

  The early morning silence of the house was both a relief and a burden. If she was lucky, Ket would be away for the day and she’d escape his vitriolic autopsy of her sins of the previous evening. Made worse, no doubt, by the fact she’d stayed out all night.