Page 32 of All My Broken Dreams

A girl rose to her feet and moved soundlessly to the curtains to draw them. There was a young man on the sofa who was staring at her with great interest that made heruncomfortable. Deacon looked at his feet as though he didn’t know what to do.

“Sarah Stewart was my mother’s maiden name. She is Sarah Listowel now. Who are you?”

There were four guys present and two girls. One of the young men answered. “You are in Dugald Croft, a trespasser. We will not give you our real names for the sake of security. This man is the leader of our society. He is known as The Black. I am Archer. This is Wulven, Raven, Falcon and Gunner. The lazy lout on the sofa goes by the name of Bannerman.”

Robbie followed Archer’s direction around the table, taking in each of their faces. She looked at Deacon. “Don’t you have a code name?”

“Wake is not one of us,” Bannerman said. “He only works for us. You may call him Wake.” The so-called lout rose to his feet with languid stealth. There was a glint in his eye that puzzled Robbie. “Why don’t you take a seat? I have a dram of scotch that’ll drive the chill out. Sit down. Please don’t make me beg; I am half out of breath as it is.”

He pressed a hand to his narrow chest and smiled at her warmly.

Bannerman was blonde and very good-looking with the kind of cheekbones Robbie only ever saw in glossy advertisements for men’s cologne. Chiseled jawline that was smooth, virtually hairless. Piercing green eyes. Tousled blonde hair that he pushed off his brow to see her. He was tall but thin, the physique of a man who did not work out. Or worked at all.

“I don’t need scotch, thank you.” She turned to Deacon. “I need to know where Harry is and I need to know now.”

Deacon Wake flushed, his dark features darkening even more. Her eyes went to the fists at his side that were clenching until his knuckles were white. Something was wrong. Something had happened to make him act like this.

“We don’t know where Harry is.” Wulven was a tall, strikingly gorgeous girl with a polished British accent. Her eyes flicked from Robbie to Bannerman with hostility. “If that is all you came for, you may as well leave. We have business to attend to and it is after midnight.”

“Wulven, don’t be rude to our visitor.” The one called Gunner stood up. He wasn’t as tall or as attractive as the others, but he was by far the scariest one of the group. “I want to hear what she has to say. Wake tells us you came all the way from America to find your brother and that you will not give up until he’s located. Is that true?”

Robbie struggled to follow Gunner’s brogue. “You know more about him than I do. He was a member of your club or whatever this is. He lived here. You know he did so why are you all acting like it’s none of your concern that he’s disappeared? Why will none of you answer a straight question? Just answer me! Where is my brother?”

Chapter Seventeen

They exchanged glances and Deacon looked over his shoulder at The Black.

“You have to tell her,” he said. “She has a right to know.”

The leader of this strange society silently left the table and came to stand in front of her. His eyes were dark green and there was something familiar in the bone structure of his face. Seeing him close up, he reminded her of someone. He stared at her hard without blinking.

“Do you know who I am?”

“No.” She swallowed.

“Your mother never spoke about me?”

“No. Why should she? She’s never heard of you. Where is my brother? He is all she cares about.”

His thick brows knitted together. “She cares about you, surely?”

“No.” Robbie glanced at Deacon for strength. “It’s fine. I’m used to it. Do you know where Harry is?”

“I don’t, but rest assured he is where he wants to be. You don’t have to worry about him anymore. I asked you about your mother. You are oddly incurious about why I would ask.”

“I don’t care, that’s why. My mother keeps herself to herself,” Robbie said, borrowing the expression from Mrs. Cameron. “She didn’t talk about her life before she met my father. It wasn’t a happy time for her. That was my impression.”

The Black’s demeanor cooled. “Well, as you said, your mother kept herself to herself. And you have made assumptions about her past that are false. You need instructing, girl. I shall take a leaf from Deacon’s book and tell you the truth.”

Robbie noticed the shift in temperature in the room as those at the table reacted to this development. Telling her the truth was clearly not in the plan.

“I’m listening,” she said, keeping her tone level.

“Your brother, Harry, is my son.”

She blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“I am Harry’s biological father. He is my child by Sarah Stewart, although I wasn’t informed of this fact until he was sixteen years of age. Your mother was very young when he was conceived. Underage, according to the law, but we were lovers. Contrary to what you believe about that time, she was exceedingly happy. We were going to elope but when her elder brother heard of our plan, he forced Sarah to leave Scotland. As a dependent minor, she had no choice but to do as he told her. I was unaware she was pregnant at the time. I knew nothing of Harry’s existence until he contacted me on his sixteenth birthday.”

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