Night with a Stranger

by Joanna Mansell

  What to wear was a problem. She knew that a lot of people on the train would be wearing clothes that reeked of money. When she had decided to take this trip, she had known she couldn't afford anything with an expensive designer label, and so she had stuck with clothes that were basically simple in design, relying on their bright colours to give them impact, and her own well-proportioned body to show them off at their best.

  For drinks with Lewis, she picked a dress in vivid emerald green. It was fairly close-fitting and fairly short, and she felt good wearing it, which was the main thing. She had the feeling that she was going to need every ounce of confidence she could get if she was going to cope with Lewis Elliott!

  She took one last glance in the mirror, and was quite pleased with the result. With a new bounce in her step, she left her cabin and made her way towards the Bar Car.

  She was rather shy about going in on her own, but lifted her head and walked steadily forward, determined to look as cool and sophisticated as the other people already sitting around. It was hard to believe they were on a train. It looked just like the bar in a first-class hotel, with uniformed staff hovering around, exotic flower arrangements, small, tastefully lit alcoves, and at the far end, a grand piano. Lorel blinked. A piano! On a train? But she definitely wasn't seeing things. She blinked again, and kept walking, making her way towards Lewis, who was sitting on one of the high stools at the long, polished bar.

  His gaze slid appreciatively over her as she seated herself beside him.

  'Even nicer than I remembered,' he murmured. 'What would you like to drink?'

  'Champagne,' she replied coolly, as if she was used to ordering it every day of her life. After all, this was the Orient-Express. She was damned if she was going to order something ordinary.

  'Let's sit somewhere a little more private,' suggested Lewis.

  Lorel instantly felt a nervous quiver go through her. 'I—er—I like it here,' she said, annoyed to find her voice coming out in a betraying squeak.

  'I was only suggesting that we move to one of the alcoves,' Lewis said drily. 'I wasn't planning on dragging you off to a secluded cabin, and locking the door.'

  'I wish you wouldn't do that,' she retorted with annoyance.

  'Do what? Tease you?' He gave an unexpected grin. 'It's very hard to resist the temptation. You look so delicious when you're angry.' Before she had a chance to answer, he stood up. 'Are you going to risk sitting in a quieter spot with me?' he challenged her.

  Lorel got to her feet, wishing that she knew how to get the better of this man. Perhaps it would be easier if he weren't so attractive. No, not attractive, she corrected herself. Downright devastating! The trouble was, he no doubt knew it. Even as he walked over to one of the alcoves, practically every female head in the room turned to look at him, some with a quick glance of appreciation, and others with outright lascivious stares.

  She gave a silent sigh as she followed him. She supposed she ought to be congratulating herself on having hooked the most attractive man on the train, instead of complaining all the time. After all, wasn't that the reason she had come on this trip? Hadn't she wanted an adventure, some excitement in her life, after the last couple of depressing years? And if there was a tall, dark, handsome stranger thrown in for good measure she should be grateful. More than that, she had. better start being nice to him, or he would soon find some other lady to share his champagne.

  Rule number one for keeping a man interested— talk about him, and not yourself, she reminded herself with a quirk of her eyebrows. And so, as they sat at a quiet table in the corner and began to sip their champagne, Lorel fixed her huge brown eyes on him and tried to look as if she found him the most fascinating man in the world. It was a technique that had never failed her in the past. Most men loved being the centre of attention.

  'About the only thing I know about you is your name,' she said. 'I don't even know what you're doing on this train. Are you going to Italy on holiday?'

  'No, on business,' Lewis replied. 'Although I intend to take a few days' break while I'm there. Heaven knows, it's long enough since I had a holiday.'

  'What sort of business are you in? she asked. She wasn't particularly interested, but it was one way of keeping the conversation fixed firmly on him.

  He paused for a moment, and then said, 'Have you heard of Elliott Communications?'

  She shook her head. 'I don't think so.' Then she gave a brief frown. 'Hang on a sec. Wasn't that the company involved in a big takeover recently?'

  Lewis nodded. 'We made a successful bid for one of our rivals. We're now one of the biggest companies in the field of electronic communications equipment.'

  'Oh—er—congratulations,' she said a little lamely.

  His mouth curled up in one corner, in an odd little half-smile. 'You don't sound too impressed.'

  'Oh, yes, I am,' she hurriedly assured him. She tried to think of something intelligent to say about communications equipment, but couldn't come up with a single thing, and so instead she said, 'If you're going to Italy on business, wouldn't it have been quicker to have flown? Or did you particularly want to travel on the Orient-Express?'

  'One train's very much like another,' Lewis said dismissively. 'This one's a little more comfortable, that's all.'

  His blasé attitude irritated her, but she tried not to show it.

  'Then what are you doing here?'

  'I thought I'd be travelling with—someone else,' he finished, after a moment's hesitation.

  Lorel remembered that incident on the platform, when they had first met, and he had snarled at her so angrily.

  'Melinda?' she guessed. Then she wrinkled her nose. She supposed she shouldn't have mentioned the absent Melinda. He obviously didn't like talking about her.

  To her surprise, though, he didn't react so strongly this time.

  'Melinda,' he agreed, in an almost resigned voice.

  'Perhaps she got held up at the last moment,' Lorel suggested tactfully. 'You'll probably hear from her when you reach Italy.'

  'Who do you think she is?' he enquired, in an unexpectedly amused tone. 'Some girlfriend who stood me up?'

  'Well—yes,' she said, a little startled. Then, rather cautiously, 'Isn't she?'

  'Melinda's an empty-headed idiot my stepbrother, Felix, has got involved with,' Lewis told her succinctly. 'I've been trying to get her away from him before he ends up completely infatuated with her. I thought I'd managed it this time. I arranged a modelling contract for her with one of the top Italian fashion houses, and threw in this trip for good measure, on the condition that she stays away from him. She agreed to think about it, but since she didn't show up, I suppose she still thinks that Felix is a better bet when it comes to a long-term financial security,' He gave a brief shrug. 'She hasn't got the brains to realise that she's chasing after the wrong brother. If she wants to get her hands on any of the Elliott money, then she should be trying to seduce me.'

  Lorel inwardly bristled. She had been right; this man was totally arrogant! Trying to arrange other people's lives for them, and crediting them with motives that they probably didn't even have.

  'There's one other possibility,' she said indignantly. 'What if they really care about each other?' Ignoring the fact that Lewis's eyebrows had just shot up in patent disbelief, she went on, 'And even if this Melinda is everything you say she is, I still don't see that you've got the right to interfere. Don't you think that everyone should be allowed to make their own mistakes?'

  'Not my stepbrother,' he said with complete finality. 'I don't intend to see him tied to some brainless little fortune-hunter.'

  'What are you going to do about it?' Lorel wasn't sure that she wanted to know, but somehow she couldn't stop herself from asking the question.

  'Keep trying different bribes until I finally find one she can't resist,' Lewis replied a little grimly. 'Perhaps I'll try straight cash next time. Most people respond to money. It's an unpleasant, but basic, fact of life.'

  Lorel's gaze ha
d gone quite cold by now. She had set out with the intention of making Lewis Elliott talk about himself, but she had found out rather more than she wanted to know.

  'I bet you're not married, are you?' she challenged him.

  'No, I'm not.' His eyebrows drew together rather sharply. 'Why did you ask that?'

  'Oh, don't worry,' she assured him bitingly. 'I'm not interested in you myself. You're not going to have to bribe me to stay away from you. I just wanted to know if I'd guessed right about you. After all,' she went on, with the sarcasm that she knew he disliked so much, 'how on earth would you ever be able to choose a wife? I don't see how you could ever be absolutely certain that it was you she really wanted, and not all that money you obviously care about so much!'

  'Have you quite finished?' he enquired tightly, his blue eyes blazing.

  'Oh, yes,' she said, getting to her feet. 'And you can drink the rest of the champagne yourself. As far as I'm concerned, it's gone quite flat!'

  And, with that, she turned away from him and made a dignified exit from the Bar Car.

  Once back in her cabin, she sat and stared at her reflection ruefully. 'Well, you've certainly blown it,' she murmured to herself. 'The best-looking man on the train—and a very eligible bachelor—and you have to go and throw insults in his face. Very clever, Lorel!'

  All the same, she didn't regret it. If Lewis Elliott had that sort of attitude towards women—and money—then some other unfortunate female could have the very dubious pleasure of his company on this trip.

  She sat and stared out of the window for a while, wondering what she was going to do about dinner this evening. She supposed she could have it here, in her cabin, but she didn't really fancy that. On the other hand, she didn't want to eat alone in the Restaurant Car. The trouble was, she had somehow got so tied up with Lewis Elliott that she hadn't had much of a chance to meet and talk to any of the other passengers. Anyway, most of them seemed to be travelling with friends or family, or had already formed small groups. And that left her very much on her own.

  Feeling rather sorry for herself, she took down her case and lifted out the dress she had planned to wear for the evening meal. She had bought it from a shop that specialised in good second-hand clothes, and as soon as she had seen it she had known she would look good in it. The rich black velvet would show up the creamy smoothness of her skin, and the rather old-fashioned style wouldn't look out of place on this particular train. And to brighten up the dress, and bring out the tawny highlights in her eyes and hair, she had bought some gold thread and embroidered a cascade of flowers across one shoulder, like a one-dimensional corsage.

  She slid the dress on to a hanger, and then gazed at it regretfully. It looked as if she wasn't even going to get the chance to wear it.

  A knock on the door made her jump slightly. Thinking it was one of the train staff, she opened it, only to find Lewis Elliott lounging elegantly outside. The bright, angry glitter had gone from his eyes, and he looked perfectly relaxed. Lorel stared at him suspiciously.

  'What do you want?' she said rather ungraciously.

  'I thought I'd try another apology,' he said, with that charm that he seemed able to turn on and off at will. His gaze rested on her, with that hypnotic quality which she found so disturbing. Then she straightened her shoulders. She wasn't going to let this man get round her because he had the most gorgeous blue eyes she had ever seen!

  On the other hand, though, she had to admit that she hadn't exactly been polite. Perhaps it wouldn't hurt to meet him half-way ‑'

  'There's really no need for you to apologise,' she conceded reluctantly. 'In fact, I was the one who was rude.'

  'Yes, you were,' he agreed. 'But perhaps it was my fault for boring you with my family problems.'

  'You didn't bore me. But I certainly didn't like the way you were dealing with those problems!'

  Lewis merely shrugged. 'You're in no position to make any judgement. You don't know either my stepbrother, or Melinda.'

  'I know that you haven't got the right to interfere in someone else's life,' she retorted.

  The first flicker of response showed on his face, revealing itself in a faint tightening of his mouth.

  'What am I meant to do? Stand aside and watch Felix get deeply involved with someone who's completely unsuitable?'

  'She's only unsuitable in your opinion,' Lorel reminded him sharply. 'What gives you the right to make that sort of judgement?'

  'Perhaps the fact that I've been sorting out the problems in my stepbrother's life since he was a teenager,' Lewis replied drily.

  'Maybe you should have let him deal with his own problems. Then he might have been able to run his own life more successfully when he was an adult.'

  Lewis raised one eyebrow. 'I very much doubt it. But I didn't come here to discuss Felix's lack of taste in women. I wanted to ask you if you'd join me for dinner this evening.'

  His invitation came as a complete surprise. Lorel lifted her head and looked at him with a touch of exasperation. 'I just don't understand you,' she admitted frankly.

  'Good,' he said, with some satisfaction. 'We'd be in for a very boring evening if we didn't have anything left to discover about each other.'

  Lorel was very much aware of the charm oozing out at full strength now. She tried valiantly to resist it, but was very hard.

  'Why do you want to take me to dinner?' she demanded.

  'Because I want to see what you look like in that dress,' he said, his gaze shifting to the black velvet. 'My guess is that the result's going to be fairly spectacular.'

  'You're crazy,' she said, with a shake of her head.

  'My family wouldn't agree with that. They think I'm very staid. Even rather boring.'

  Her eyes shot wide open. 'Why on earth do they think that?'

  'Because I prefer work to play,' answered Lewis. 'And because I—quite literally—don't have much time for women.'

  Her eyes were like saucers now. 'You don't like them?' she said incredulously.

  His mouth relaxed into a slow smile.

  'To the contrary. I like them a great deal. But for the last couple of years, I've been much too busy to spare time for all the niceties required when one takes out a lady.'

  'And now you've suddenly found yourself with a few free hours on your hands, so you've decided to make up for lost time?' she retorted crisply. 'Well, not with me, you don't! Find yourself some other willing female to entertain you for the rest of the journey, Mr Elliott. This particular one has got better things to do!'

  She tried to close the door on him, but he easily held it open.

  'Why do you keep getting so angry, when all I'm doing is simply telling you the truth?' he asked.

  To be honest, she didn't know. Perhaps it was an instinctive defence system, she thought to herself uneasily. Something inside of her was warning her to resort to any measures to stop herself from getting involved with this man. He didn't look dangerous, he didn't sound dangerous—but her nerve-ends recognised some sort of threat, and they were responding accordingly.

  'I wish—I wish that you'd leave me alone,' she said at last, in a low voice. 'I'm not sure that I like you very much.'

  'But I like you,' he responded softly.

  Lorel gave a shaky sigh. She found him a very confusing, contradictory man. Why wouldn't he just go away and let her be?

  As if reading her thoughts with uncanny accuracy, Lewis gave a small shake of his head. 'I'm not going until you agree to have dinner with me tonight.'

  'Oh, all right,' she muttered irritably. 'If that's the only way I can get rid of you.'

  'That's the most unenthusiastic acceptance of an invitation that I've ever heard,' he mocked her. 'Never mind, I still intend to hold you to it. I'll see you later, in the Restaurant Car.'

  To her relief, he finally went after that. Lorel rather weakly closed the door, and then wondered why she hadn't said an outright 'No', instead of rather feebly giving in to him. Probably because very few people— male or femal
e—said no to Lewis Elliott, she decided gloomily.

  By the time she finally made her way to the Restaurant Car, she was feeling rather more confident. Perhaps it was because, without any vanity, she knew she looked good. Gold shadow glittered on her eyelids to match the gold thread on her dress, her hair was caught up at the sides with tiny gold clips, and the dress itself fitted like a dream.

  Lewis was already waiting for her, and his eyes registered their appreciation as she sat down opposite him.

  The meal was terrific, six courses in all, and somehow an entire bottle of wine had disappeared by the time the last plates had finally been cleared away. Lorel tried to remember how much of it she had actually drunk, but wasn't quite sure, although the slight muzziness of her head told her it must have been more than her fair share! It was because she had felt nervous, she defended herself. She had needed it to steady herself. And it had worked. She felt great now, sort of sparkling and very relaxed.

  'Why are you travelling on your own?' Lewis asked her. 'Why not with a girlfriend—or boyfriend?'

  'I don't have a boyfriend,' she said cheerfully. 'Not at the moment. And none of my friends had any holiday leave due to them. Not that they could have afforded this trip, anyway,' she added frankly.

  'But you could?' he observed. 'You must have a very good job.'

  Lorel grinned. 'Not any more. I didn't have any holiday leave due, either. I was determined to come, though, so I just chucked in my job, and packed my bags.'

  Lewis looked rather surprised. 'Can you afford to do that?'

  'Of course,' she said airily. 'I've just received a legacy—that's how I paid for this holiday.' She leant forward, and gave him a confidential smile. 'I'm an heiress.'

  He didn't look very impressed, which was rather annoying. Lorel wondered if she had overdone it a bit. She had certainly embroidered on the truth fairly dramatically. There was just enough left of the small legacy from her great-aunt to pay for her holiday in Venice, and then that would be it. Still, there was no need for Lewis to know that. Tonight, she felt curiously liberated, free to be whoever and whatever she wanted to be. And she fancied being rich, mysterious, sophisticated—all the things that she didn't have a hope in hell of being on an ordinary day. She had a feeling that the wine was partly to blame for the odd mood she was in, but it didn't worry her. In the morning, she would be sober and rather dull again. In the meantime, she was thoroughly enjoying herself.