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This Is My Child
Lucy Gordon
A FATHER'S DILEMMAGiles Haverill adored his adopted son, though he couldn't seem to show it. He knew the boy longed for his lost mother, just as Giles himself ached for a woman's gentle touch. But how did you tell a child that he'd been abandoned by the one person he needed most?A MOTHER'S SECRETThanks to fate, Melanie Haynes was now a member of the Haverill household. As little David's new nanny, she could soothe his troubles and dry his tears. But Melanie hadn't bargained on falling in love with Giles - or the pint-sized stranger who was her own flesh and blood… .
Table of Contents
Cover Page (#ua4ed47a8-8f70-55ba-ba78-ee13ffebd6a5)
Excerpt (#u03670ea1-85b7-52af-a427-80fe0f19b352)
Dear Reader (#u6ee6d8fa-5425-5fe5-a32e-e31a59510728)
Title Page (#u81d4b18b-652e-5f57-bda0-066a83cd470e)
About the Author (#u12308154-644e-569f-b87b-4aeed7374e8e)
One (#u47f25121-1809-5dd2-bd0b-f8c02aeac6da)
Two (#uf2bb507b-9395-50ea-92a1-119b95cfb743)
Three (#u1cfb4cbd-aae7-516d-8246-a43280b2bd99)
Four (#litres_trial_promo)
Five (#litres_trial_promo)
Six (#litres_trial_promo)
Seven (#litres_trial_promo)
Eight (#litres_trial_promo)
Nine (#litres_trial_promo)
Ten (#litres_trial_promo)
Eleven (#litres_trial_promo)
Twelve (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
“I Never Understood My Son For A Moment,”
Giles said at last.
“As long as you understand him now—” Melanie began.
“But I don’t. The only thing I have to hold on to is you. From the first moment, you’ve known what to. say and do. It’s strange—as though you and David were connected by an invisible thread.”
Melanie tensed as he came so near her secret. But there was nothing but warmth in the smile he turned on her, and her heart gave the same disturbing lurch it had given before.
Dear Reader,
We all know that Valentine’s Day is the most romantic holiday of the year. It’s the day you show that special someone in your life—husband, fiancé…even your mom!—just how much you care by giving them special gifts of love.
And our special Valentine’s gift to you is a book from a writer many of you have said is one of your favorites, Annette Broadrick. Megan’s Marriage isn’t just February’s MAN OF THE MONTH, it’s also the first book of Annette’s brand-new DAUGHTERS OF TEXAS series. This passionate love story is just right for Valentine’s Day.
February also marks the continuation of SONS AND LOVERS, a bold miniseries about three men who discover that love and family are the most important things in life. In Reese: The Untamed by Susan Connell, a dashing bachelor meets his match and begins to think that being married might be more pleasurable than he’d ever dreamed. The series continues in March with Ridge: The Avenger by Leanne Banks.
This month is completed with four more scintillating love stories: Assignment: Marriage by Jackie Merritt, Daddy’s Choice by Doreen Owens Malek, This Is My Child by Lucy Gordon and Husband Material by Rita Rainville. Don’t miss any of them!
So Happy Valentine’s Day and Happy Reading!
Lucia Macro
Senior Editor
Please address questions and book requests to:
Silhouette Reader Service
U.S.: 3010 Walden Ave., P.O. Box 1325, Buffalo, NY 14269
Canadian: P.O. Box 609, Fort Erie, Ont. L2A 5X3
This is My Child
Lucy Gordon
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
LUCY GORDON
met her husband-to-be in Venice, fell in love the first evening and got engaged two days later. After twenty-three years they’re still happily married and now live in England with their three dogs. For twelve years Lucy was a writer for an English women’s magazine. She interviewed many of the world’s most interesting men, including Warren Beatty, Richard Chamberlain, Sir Roger Moore, Sir Alec Guinness and Sir John Gielgud.
In 1985 she won the Romantic Times Reviewer’s Choice Award for Outstanding Series Romance Author. She has also won a Golden Leaf Award from the New Jersey Chapter of RWA, was a finalist in the RWA Golden Medallion contest in 1988 and won the 1990 RITA Award in the Best Traditional Romance category for Song of the Lorelei.
One (#ulink_ebd79673-fcc4-5cef-ae44-0860088973cd)
Melanie sat in the hallway of Giles Haverill’s luxurious house, and hated him.
She’d hated him for eight years, but never so much as at this moment, when she was about to meet him for the first time. She tried to fight down the feeling, knowing that the next few minutes would be the most crucial of her life. She must smile and say the things that would persuade this man to take her into his home. And he must never suspect that beneath her quiet exterior she was burning with hate.
The door to his study was pulled open and an unseen voice said curtly, “You can come in now, Miss Haynes.”
She went inside and there was her enemy, reseating himself behind an oak desk strewn with papers. He was a large man, broad shouldered and dark haired, with a lean, handsome face set in a frown. Tension radiated from him. He looked her quickly up and down out of dark eyes that seemed to take in everything in one glance. Melanie trembled, afraid that he might look right into her heart and read her secret. But he merely grunted in a way that might have indicated approval of her neat clothes and pinned-back hair. He nodded her to a chair and put away some papers.
While he was occupied, she glanced around at the room. It was the office of a rich man, of plain if expensive tastes. The waste bin was made of steel, as was the lamp that hung over the desk. Where the walls weren’t covered with steel shelving they were white, and bare except for two stark, modern paintings in vivid colors. The carpet was gray, and the most notable object in the room was a large sofa of soft black leather that exactly matched the seat behind the desk. The total effect was of a kind of austere beauty, but the room was chiefly functional, and it fitted her mental picture of Giles Haverill.
He looked up from his papers. “I was rather surprised to receive your call, Miss Haynes. It’s true I was thinking of employing someone to care for my son, but I hadn’t advertised yet.”
“Somebody mentioned it at Ayleswood School,” she said. “I’m working there at the moment.”
“So you told me on the phone.” He gave her a sharp look. “There are eighty pupils at that school. Would you have applied to look after any of the others?” he demanded abruptly.
“No-”
“Then why David?”
“I couldn’t help noticing him—”
“Considering that he’s been in trouble constantly for the last few months, that isn’t surprising.”
“I don’t believe David is a naughty child,” Melanie said quickly. “Just unhappy. Of course I know that his mother isn’t here anymore—”
“His mother left me a year ago, for another man. She—didn’t choose to take her son. I’m glad of that for my own sake, but it’s had an unfortunate effect on David.”
“I can imagine,” Melanie said in a low voice.
“I wonder if you can picture just how bad it is.” Giles Haverill’s mouth twisted wryly. “Truancy, petty theft, lying—all the things that lead to delinquency later on if they’re not curbed now.”
“I should rather say, if they’re not cured now.”
Giles shook his head. “My son isn’t ill, and I don’t believe unhappiness excuses wrongdoing. I want to do everything I can to make him a happy child again, but that doesn’t include turning a blind eye when he does things he shouldn’t. No son of mine is going to grow up badly behaved because I didn’t lift a finger to prevent it.”
Melanie gripped her hands together out of sight, wondering how long she could conceal her dislike of this man with his harsh judgments. He spoke of making his child happy, but there was no love in his voice, just an iron determination to arrange things in the way he wanted.
“Did you know David was adopted?” Giles Haverill shot the question at her.
“The—school records didn’t mention it,” Melanie replied.
If he noticed her cautious choice of words he gave no sign. “My wife couldn’t have children,” he said. “Perhaps that’s why she left him behind.”
“Does he know he’s adopted?”
“Yes. We told him as soon as he could understand. It seemed best for him to grow up knowing it naturally. But it adds to the problem now. He feels he’s lost two mothers—if you can dignify the first one with the name of ‘mother.’ A woman who gives up her newborn child is beneath contempt. Don’t you agree?”
“I—surely you should hear her side of it?” Melanie stammered.
“I don’t think there can be any justification. However, let that pass. I must also tell you about Mrs. Braddock. She’s a welfare worker who’s taken far too close an interest in David since he’s been misbehaving. She’s been writing reports talking about how ‘disturbed’ he is, and how he needs to be ‘closely observed.’” A sudden cloud of black anger transformed his face, and he said swiftly, “To dare say that my son—my son…”
Melanie stared, appalled at the rage that had distorted his handsome features. He looked cruel and ruthless, capable of anything. He saw her looking at him and recovered his composure. “She’s started hinting about taking David into care, putting him with foster parents who could ‘give him a normal home,’ as she puts it.”
“But he’s used to you,” Melanie protested. “Surely this woman can’t think it will be good for him to lose you, as well as your wife?”
“That’s what I said to her. But, as she pointed out, I haven’t been around too much. I have a large business to run, and I’ve mostly left the care of David to Zena. When she left I thought I could manage, but it wasn’t that easy.” He saw her wry face and said sharply, “I’m not a ‘New Man,’ Miss Haynes. I don’t pretend to be. I’ve tried to raise David as my father raised me, to have a sense of responsibility, and be able to take on the task of running Haverill & Son. It’s a very big job and it needs a man trained virtually from the cradle.”
“I see.”
“I wonder if you do,” he responded, quick to pick up the chilly note in her voice. “I made sure he had the best education money could buy because he’s going to need it, and he justified my faith in him. Right from the start he was ahead of the class. In his nursery school he could read while the others were playing in the sand pit.”
“I expect he knew there’d be hell to pay if he couldn’t,” Melanie couldn’t resist saying.
“I’ve always let him know that my expectations of him were high. I think children respond to that. And he did respond—until recently. Now it’s a story of truancy and idleness and frankly—”
“Frankly you feel he’s letting you down,” Melanie challenged him.
He looked at her hard for a moment. “Yes.”
She’d meant to play it cool, but her temper was seething out of control. “Then I don’t know why you don’t let Mrs. Braddock have him. Unsatisfactory goods, to be returned.”
“Because he’s mine,” he asserted bluntly.
“But he isn’t, is he? Not by blood.”
“Blood has nothing to do with it,” he said, dismissing the whole of nature with an arrogant sweep of his hand. “He’s mine because I say he’s mine, because I’ve made him mine. And I don’t let go of what’s mine.”
Their eyes met for a long moment. Then Giles Haverill recollected himself with a start, realizing that he’d come perilously close to defending and explaining himself. It was his rule never to do either of these things, but this young woman had lured him out from behind his protective barriers in a few minutes. He had two contradictory impulses: to get rid of her before she troubled him further, and to confide in her the hell of confusion and misery in which he was living. He found that he couldn’t choose between them, which alarmed him even more, because indecisiveness was foreign to his nature.
“Coffee?” he asked, retreating to safety.
The abrupt change of subject caught her off guard. “Thank you—er—yes—”
“I should have offered you some when you came in, but I’m so distracted these days that I forget my manners.” He went to a percolator by the wall and poured her some. “Milk? Sugar?”
“Milk, no sugar, thank you.”
“Tell me about yourself,” he said when he’d served her and sat down. “You said in your letter that you left school at sixteen. No university?”
“It didn’t attract me. I have two sisters and a brother, who all went.”
“But you were the odd one out? I wonder why.” He gave a sudden grin, which illuminated his face, giving it a mocking look that was unexpectedly pleasing. “Black sheep?”
“Yes,” she said impulsively. “I was the naughty child of the family. Everyone said so.”
“So you and David have something in common. Careful! Don’t choke.”
“I’m sorry,” she gasped. “Went down—wrong way.”
He waited until she was calm again. “What was the matter? Did you mind my saying you and David had something in common?”
She flinched from his penetrating eyes, afraid lest they discern just how much in common she had with his son. “Not at all,” she said quickly. “I’m glad of it. I think David needs just the kind of understanding that I can give him. I know how naughtiness grows out of misery.”
“Was your childhood as unhappy as that?”
“It’s no fun being the black sheep.”
“But that’s all in the past. I’m sure your parents are proud of you now.”
