heaven—now what?
Rising slowly, Libby buried her glasses in her pocket, then swallowed to ease the sudden ache in her throat. As Donovan approached, she asked, "What's wrong?"
"It shows, huh?"
She nodded. "Just tell it straight out. What happened?"
"Not much. R. T. is out of town, and will be for several more days."
"Well, where did he go? Maybe we can meet with him there."
"Give it up Libby." Donovan's expression was deadly serious. "There's nothing else you can do here. I want you to listen carefully to what I have to say from here on out, and do what I suggest."
"All right," she said, even though his ice-blue eyes still told her that something was wrong. "Exactly what do you think I ought to do now?"
"I want you to let me take you back to my place to pick up your things. After that, I'll see you safely aboard the first train to Laramie."
"Oh, no. I'm not—"
"Let me finish."
She clamped her lips shut, but had a list of objections ready to toss at him. Something definitely wasn't right. Savage family member or not, she intended to find out exactly what.
"Thank you." Donovan made a little courtesy bow. "As I was saying, I'll send you a wire the minute R. T. returns and let you know what he has to say about everything—which, by the way, is exactly what I intended to do all along."
"I thank you for your suggestions," she said sharply, "but I didn't come all this way just to go back home without seeing your father. I'm staying. Anything else?"
"Dammit, Libby." Donovan shoved his hands in his pockets, then turned his back to her and began pacing. "Why do you have to be so stubborn about this? I told you that I've got things under control. I even have an appointment with R. T. a week from Monday. I promise to wire you the minute our meeting is concluded. That should be reassurance enough."
"What did you say?"
"I promised to wire you—"
"Not that." Incredulous, Libby circled Donovan until she could look him right in the eye. "Did you just say you made an appointment with R. T.?"
His expression wide with horror, or something close to it, he stood rock-still, giving Libby an even better glimpse of the man inside than before. Things were far worse than just "not right."
Her suspicion cresting, she grabbed the lapel of his jacket, and demanded, "Why the devil do you have to make an appointment to see your own father?"
Chapter 4
The last gambler who'd lost a week's pay to Donovan hadn't looked at him with such contempt or hostility—and Libby still didn't know exactly what he'd done or how he'd deceived her. He backed a safe distance away before trying to explain.
"You're probably going to laugh when you hear this," he said, calling on all his boyish charm. "But I'm surprised I even got an appointment with old R. T."
"I'm not laughing yet."
"That's because I haven't gotten to the really funny part."
Donovan paused, giving Libby a moment to relax a little, but she was like a rock, as she stood there burning holes in him with her accusing brown eyes.
"I could use a good laugh about now," she muttered. "What's so blasted funny?"
"Well, the truth is, R. T. has no reason to want to see me, even with an appointment because... well," he chuckled lightly. "I'm not his son."
"Not his son—you mean, biologically?"
"That's right." Watching her carefully, catching the gradual shift in her expression from animosity to curiosity, Donovan decided that Libby was only slightly stunned by the information, but not so shaken he couldn't smooth her ruffled feathers. "I am not, nor have I ever been, a part of the Savage family. The closest I've been to any of them was when I sat next to Andrew during a card game on the train to Laramie."
"Andrew? A card game?" She frowned, looking very confused. "I don't understand. If you're not Andrew Savage, why did you come to see me at the Tribune ? Do you work for Savage Publishing?"
"Good Lord, no. I have nothing to do with the newspaper." Damn, but it felt good
Rising slowly, Libby buried her glasses in her pocket, then swallowed to ease the sudden ache in her throat. As Donovan approached, she asked, "What's wrong?"
"It shows, huh?"
She nodded. "Just tell it straight out. What happened?"
"Not much. R. T. is out of town, and will be for several more days."
"Well, where did he go? Maybe we can meet with him there."
"Give it up Libby." Donovan's expression was deadly serious. "There's nothing else you can do here. I want you to listen carefully to what I have to say from here on out, and do what I suggest."
"All right," she said, even though his ice-blue eyes still told her that something was wrong. "Exactly what do you think I ought to do now?"
"I want you to let me take you back to my place to pick up your things. After that, I'll see you safely aboard the first train to Laramie."
"Oh, no. I'm not—"
"Let me finish."
She clamped her lips shut, but had a list of objections ready to toss at him. Something definitely wasn't right. Savage family member or not, she intended to find out exactly what.
"Thank you." Donovan made a little courtesy bow. "As I was saying, I'll send you a wire the minute R. T. returns and let you know what he has to say about everything—which, by the way, is exactly what I intended to do all along."
"I thank you for your suggestions," she said sharply, "but I didn't come all this way just to go back home without seeing your father. I'm staying. Anything else?"
"Dammit, Libby." Donovan shoved his hands in his pockets, then turned his back to her and began pacing. "Why do you have to be so stubborn about this? I told you that I've got things under control. I even have an appointment with R. T. a week from Monday. I promise to wire you the minute our meeting is concluded. That should be reassurance enough."
"What did you say?"
"I promised to wire you—"
"Not that." Incredulous, Libby circled Donovan until she could look him right in the eye. "Did you just say you made an appointment with R. T.?"
His expression wide with horror, or something close to it, he stood rock-still, giving Libby an even better glimpse of the man inside than before. Things were far worse than just "not right."
Her suspicion cresting, she grabbed the lapel of his jacket, and demanded, "Why the devil do you have to make an appointment to see your own father?"
Chapter 4
The last gambler who'd lost a week's pay to Donovan hadn't looked at him with such contempt or hostility—and Libby still didn't know exactly what he'd done or how he'd deceived her. He backed a safe distance away before trying to explain.
"You're probably going to laugh when you hear this," he said, calling on all his boyish charm. "But I'm surprised I even got an appointment with old R. T."
"I'm not laughing yet."
"That's because I haven't gotten to the really funny part."
Donovan paused, giving Libby a moment to relax a little, but she was like a rock, as she stood there burning holes in him with her accusing brown eyes.
"I could use a good laugh about now," she muttered. "What's so blasted funny?"
"Well, the truth is, R. T. has no reason to want to see me, even with an appointment because... well," he chuckled lightly. "I'm not his son."
"Not his son—you mean, biologically?"
"That's right." Watching her carefully, catching the gradual shift in her expression from animosity to curiosity, Donovan decided that Libby was only slightly stunned by the information, but not so shaken he couldn't smooth her ruffled feathers. "I am not, nor have I ever been, a part of the Savage family. The closest I've been to any of them was when I sat next to Andrew during a card game on the train to Laramie."
"Andrew? A card game?" She frowned, looking very confused. "I don't understand. If you're not Andrew Savage, why did you come to see me at the Tribune ? Do you work for Savage Publishing?"
"Good Lord, no. I have nothing to do with the newspaper." Damn, but it felt good
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