Suzanna's Surrender

“Take your sister upstairs,” Bax said tightly. “I want to speak with your mother in private.”

“You and Jenny go in the kitchen.” Suzanna brushed a hand over Alex's cheek. “Aunt Coco's there.”

Bax took a careless swipe at Fred with his foot. “And take these damn mutts with you.”

“Cheri?” This from the svelte brunette who continued to hover in the doorway.

“Yvette.” Keeping her arms around the children, Suzanna rose. “I'm sorry, I didn't see you.”

The Frenchwoman waved distracted hands. “I beg your pardon, it's so confusing, I see. I just wondered – Bax, the children's bags?”

“Have the driver bring them in,” he snapped. “Can't you see I'm busy?”

Suzanna sent the frazzled woman a look of sympathy. “He can just leave them here in the hall. If you'd like to come into the parlor...go see Aunt Coco,” she told the children. “She'll be so happy you're back.”

They went, holding each other's hand, with the dogs prancing at their heels.

“If you could spare a moment of your time,” Bax said, then cast a glance up and down her work clothes, “out of your obviously fascinating day.”

“The parlor,” she repeated and turned. She struggled for calm, knowing it was essential. Whatever had caused him to change his plans and bring the children home a full week early was undoubtedly going to fall on her head. That she could handle. But the fact that the children had been upset was a different matter.

“Yvette –” Suzanna gestured to a chair “ – can I get you something?” “Oh, if you would be so kind. A brandy?”

“Of course. Bax?” “Whiskey, a double.”

She went to the liquor cabinet and poured, grateful her hands were steady. As she served Yvette, she thought she caught a glance of apology and embarrassment.

“Well, Bax, would you like to tell me what happened?”

“What happened began years ago when you had the mistaken idea you could be a mother.”

“Bax,” Yvette began, and was rounded on.

“Get out on the terrace. I prefer to do this privately.”

So that hadn't changed, Suzanna thought. She gripped her hands together as Yvette crossed the room and exited through the glass doors.

“At least this little experiment should have rid her of the notion of having a child.”

“Experiment?” Suzanna repeated. “Your visit with the children was an experiment?”

He sipped at the whiskey and watched her. He was still a striking man with a charmingly boyish face and fair hair. But temper, as it always had, added an edge to his looks that was anything but appealing.

“My reasons for taking the children are my concern. Their unforgivable behavior is yours. They haven't any conception of how to act in public and in private. They have the manners and dispositions of heathens and as little control. You've done a poor job, Suzanna, unless it was your intention to raise two miserable brats.”

“Don't think you can stand here and speak about them that way in my house.” Eyes dangerously bright, she walked toward him. “I don't give a damn if they fit your standards or not. I want to know why you've brought them back this way.”

“Then listen,” he suggested, and shoved her into a chair. “Your precious children don't have a clue what's expected of a Dumont. They were loud and unmanageable in restaurants, whiny and fidgety on the drive. When corrected they became defiant or sulky. At the resort, among several of my acquaintances, their behaviour was an embarrassment.

Too incensed for fear, Suzanna pulled herself out of the chair. “In other words, they were children. I'm sorry your plans were upset, Baxter, but it's difficult to expect a five – and six – year – old to present themselves as socially correct on all occasions. Even more difficult when they're thrust into a situation that wasn't any of their doing. They don't know you.”

He swirled whiskey, swallowed. “They're perfectly aware that I'm their father, but you've seen to it that they have no respect for that relationship.”

“No, you've seen to it.”

Deliberately he set the whiskey aside. “Do you think I don't know what you tell them? Sweet, harmless little Suzanna.” She stepped back automatically, pleasing him.

“I don't tell them anything about you,” she said, furious with herself for retreating.

“Oh, no? Then you didn't mention the fact that they had a bastard brother out in Oklahoma?”

So that was it, she realized, struggling to settle. “Megan O'Riley's brother married my sister. There was no way to keep the situation a secret, even if I had wanted to.”

“And you just couldn't wait to sling my name around.” He gave her another shove that sent her stumbling back.

“The boy's their half brother. They accept that, and they're too young to understand what a despicable thing you did.”

“My affairs are mine. Don't you forget it.” Gripping her shoulders, he pushed her up against the wall. “I have no intention of letting you get away with your pitiful plots for revenge.”

“Take your hands off me.” She twisted, but he forced her back again.