by Sara Wood
Ginny blinked and understood. 'You mean your father?' she hazarded, and remembered the promise that she'd learn something to her advantage. Her heart thudded. She was fair, like him. Could they be related? Brother and sister? 'I could be—'
'If you've come to play gold-digger, then I'd advise you to go home,' he told her curtly, 'before you're in deep, deep trouble!'
Her eyes narrowed at his animosity. 'I've only just arrived!' she said spiritedly.
'I want to know what your expectations are,' he muttered.
He began to walk towards her and she retreated till her back was against a pillar. His hands came up and she wriggled, mortified that her action had wrenched the robe open a little.
Just as he laid his hands on her naked shoulders, she heard a gasp and both she and St Honore jerked their heads around in unison. Ginny's eyes widened in shock. A beautiful and clearly distressed woman with heavily tumbled brown hair was staring at them in blank horroramid the chaos of Ginny's scattered clothing. The woman cried 'Pascal!' twice and fainted dead away, crumpling in a heap on the floor.
The grip on Ginny's arms was released. Without a word, the man—Pascal, presumably—ran to the woman, picked her up and carried her out.
The peace, the serenity and her sense of calm had been shattered. Ginny clung to the veranda post, her chest heaving, her hair falling about her face. The woman was obviously Pascal St Honore's wife, lover or partner. Ginny went scarlet, thinking back to how it must have looked to an outsider—she with her robe falling open, thrust against the pillar with Pascal's hands holding her, his face close to hers, urgent and intense. An intensity that could have been interpreted as sexual passion.
'Oh, wo!' she whispered hopelessly. 'More scandal. More accusations.'
And she groaned when she heard footsteps on the wooden stairs that led up from the front door to her room, dreading the prospect of the woman's disgust when she accused her of seducing her guy.
But before she could move she heard a voice that froze her where she stood.
'Often entertain half-naked men, do you?' drawled Leo's voice.
Ice formed inside her. She seemed to have been frozen right through by those soft, sinister tones. Leo! His contempt had rung out across the room, hurting her with a sharpness that rendered her temporarily mute.
Then the two years of killing all outward emotion concerning Leo came into play and she turned, cool and haughty, mistress of herself despite the shaking of her legs and the sickness in her stomach.
She let her eyes wander up and down him, calculating the amount of insult that she could get away with safely. It was nearly her undoing.
Scornful and hard he might look, but he was also flinging his wretched masculine appeal at her and she burned beneath his slow scrutiny of her barely covered body.
'Surely my behaviour is no concern of yours?' she said mildly, tying up her gaping robe and somehow wandering with a deceptive casualness across to the stagey dressing table.
'It is when you involve what appears to be a distressed wife in full flight,' he said coldly. 'You are a little tramp, Virginia!'
Virginia, she thought dully. Formal. Detached. Only her adoptive parents had ever called her that. 'For men it's all right, is it?' she asked in a low tone, racked with pain as she remembered the horrific sight of Arabella and Leo in bed together. Her voice hardened. 'It didn't matter that you entertained a naked woman in our bed or that I was a distressed woman in full flight?'
'You deserved what you got,' he said brutally. 'I doubt if that unhappy little innocent did!'
'It wasn't what it seemed!' she defended. 'He'll explain to his wife, if that's who she is.'
'If she believes you two were doing something innocuous, she's more guileless than she looks,' snapped Leo.
She quivered involuntarily. What was it about him? Her eyes lingered on his mouth. A hardness, a predatory sensuality. She felt her stomach lurch. He was somehow dangerous—not the man she'd known before. And that excited her, against her will.
'I hope she does believe it was a misunderstanding on her husband's part, because it's true,' she said huskily, certain that Pascal would placate his wife by explaining the possible relationship between himself and the half- naked woman he'd been accosting.
And, worrying that her senses were spilling into her brains, she sat down on the stool and smiled coolly, non-committally at Leo's reflection in the mirror while she unhooked the hair-dryer.
Her hand wavered, however, because she suddenly remembered the mind-blowing sex with him on the library floor... as she had remembered it so many times since. And every time it had left a raw ache inside her. This time he was here in person and it was worse. Because she still loved him and he'd cheated on her. Even now she wanted to scream at him and ease her impotent anger. Yet she knew that she had to keep calm and dignified for her own sake.
Obviously irritated by the noise, he took the hair-dryer from her hand and replaced it. With a deep sigh, she angled her head to show her exasperation and asked coolly, 'Why are you here—and how did you find me?'
'Chas,' he drawled, his fingers resting on the nape of her neck.
'How could he?' she protested resentfully.
Slowly Leo's hands ran up through her wet hair and she was reminded of another time, another lifetime, when she'd been so desperate to hold her marriage together, to keep Leo's love, that she'd walked into the shower fully dressed. And been rebuffed. Her heart hardened.
'I rang you,' he said casually, 'to make sure you knew the divorce had gone through. Chas didn't mean to betray you. He accidentally mentioned that you were in St Lucia and I tricked him into giving away a little more. A name—St Honore.' A sinister note had crept into his voice.
'So?' She shook her head to rid herself of his unwanted caress. Well, she admitted to herself, it was wanted, but fatal to her new-found self.
'I had lunch with my father yesterday and he said he knew of a St Honore on the island. I thought it was likely that it was the same man.' Leo wandered off and, not wanting to miss a word he said, she began to make up her face instead of defying him and switching on the dryer again. 'Do you know what you're getting into?' he asked quietly. 'Do you know what kind of person he is?'
Her huge, gold-brown eyes met his in the mirror. 'You tell me,' she said, disguising her apprehension with a shrug. She'd met Pascal St Honore. He was obviously trying to stop her from meeting his father. She was determined to find out why.
Leo scowled and strode over to her, twisting her around on the low stool and holding her wrists firmly. They both stared at her thighs where the robe had fallen away to reveal the fair triangle of soft, downy hair. Leo's jaw quivered and then he roughly covered her again. But they were both shaking.
She saw the lick of his tongue over his lips and quickly moistened hers. Saw his quickened breath lifting his chest in rapid movements. 'Get away from me!' she croaked.
His thick lashes lifted slowly and he looked steadily into her horrified eyes, smiling an infuriatingly mocking smile because she'd revealed her secret desire in that panic-driven sentence.
'First you listen. I've come to warn you, for old times' sake,' he said softly, his mouth and eyes enchanting her, weaving their old spell. Desperately she tried to comprehend what he was saying. 'Vincente St Honore is not someone you want to be involved with—'
'Vincente?' She furrowed her brow. The father, presumably. Intrigued, she angled her head.
'That's right,' said Leo curtly. 'Don't have anything to do with him.'
'I don't follow your orders,' she snapped.
'You never did,' he grunted. 'But this time, if you don't pay attention to what I'm saying, it could be your funeral.'
Ginny's eyes rounded. 'Why?' she asked shakily. 'Leo, you're scaring me!'
His slate eyes brooded on her for a moment. 'I hope so,' he said soberly, and she knew that he wasn't trying to be malicious, that this was something worryingly serious. Her lower lip began to tremble.
'
You'd better explain,' she said apprehensively.
Leo appeared to be considering how much he could tell her. 'I want you to promise that this will go no further,' he said eventually. She nodded, alarm in her huge eyes. 'Many years ago, Vincente St Honore was part of the international social circuit,' he explained gravely. 'There was a scandal which caused him to be ostracised. Father knows the woman involved in the scandal—someone who was virtually driven insane by the brute.' Leo's mouth curled in scorn. 'She was treated despicably—insulted, humiliated—'
'No,' she whispered, appalled. This was the man who might be her father? 'No, Leo!' she cried, not wanting to believe such things.
'So tell me why you've come here to see him,' Leo said tightly.
She wrenched herself free in distress and got up, pacing up and down, thinking of Pascal, and trying to comprehend Leo's story. It all sounded horribly true. If Vincente was her father, what would she do? Had he been the reason why her mother had run away and why she had been so disturbed? It was a background she didn't want for herself, blood she didn't relish flowing in her veins.
An unbalanced mother, a brutal father. She went chalk-white with misery, all hope of a happy reunion slowly being extinguished.
'You want a drink?' he asked sharply.
'Yes,' she whispered, waving to the fridge.
In silence she sat while he found the champagne and filled two glasses, coming to stand in front of her. 'You still haven't told me what you're doing flying out to meet this man,' he said. Something in his tone alerted her. He knew more than he was saying and that made her wary.
'My business,' she said shortly.
'Unwise business,' he said, scowling at the champagne in the elegant flute. He reached out and tipped up her chin so that she was forced to look at him. 'Forget any idea of seeing him. There can't be any reason worth the risk. Get dressed. I'll escort you home,' he said gruffly. 'We'll fly back-'
'No! I'm not going!' she cried with defiance.
'You fool!' he scorned. 'What are you expecting from the old lecher?'
Ginny crushed her wince of horror, gave an elegant lift of her shoulders and slid away from him. 'Leave me to run my own life,' she said with cool hauteur. 'I might have a chat with him, I might not. You've told me what you know and it's for me to decide what to do.'
His eyes narrowed menacingly. Hastily she grabbed the dryer and coldly proceeded to dry her hair, ignoring Leo completely. Turmoil raged through her head. Fury too, because nothing was going as she'd planned. She'd imagined a pleasant chat with a middle-aged man who might be her father. And if he wasn't, then at least she would have had a rest on a beautiful island and some sanity in her life at last.
Instead, she was having to believe that Vincente was some terrible old man. She frowned and, despite her worry, suddenly became aware of a change in the atmosphere. Her spine tingled.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see Leo standing with his legs straddled, toffee-dark brows lowered in a thick, temper-driven line and the storm-dark eyes glittering with the intensity of shimmering steel, burning into her neck, while her body acknowledged the feverish chemistry between them by sending flurries of heat across her skin.
It was a sexy, man-will-conquer-woman pose and she was both scared and enthralled by this new ruthlessness of his. Conscious of her nakedness beneath the robe, she slid her long, exposed legs under the dressing table and hurried to finish drying her hair.
Her loins contracted at the very thought of him. Brutally she lifted the brush through her hair, glowering at herself. She couldn't spend eight or nine hours on a plane with him. The more she was near Leo, the more it hurt. The more she wanted him.
Gorgeous. How long has it been cut?' he murmured idly in her ear, suddenly back-shiveringly close. His fingers lifted strands of the silky hair delicately and she gritted her teeth to stop herself from dropping the dryer.
She turned it up to 'high' so that it was louder. 'A few days!' she yelled. You couldn't be sexy if you were shouting. Leo seemed to think otherwise.
'Very sexy,' he purred, his head bending briefly while he inhaled the scent of her hair. 'It's dry,' he drawled, and she thought for a breathless moment that he was going to nibble her small ear. To her disappointment and relief, he didn't. Firmly he unpicked her fingers from the dryer again and hooked it on the wall then rested his hands on her shoulders and smiled thoughtfully at her reflection in the mirror. She felt a shaft of desire brutalising her body with its searing, cutting edge. 'Why cut it?' he asked softly. 'You always resisted before.'
'I'm here incognito,' she answered sullenly, leaning forward to continue applying her make-up with a rather shaky hand. 'I want privacy and peace. That's one of the reasons I'm here. So you can go home and leave me alone. I don't know why you bothered to come. Why should you care if I get mixed up with this man?'
'Because it will reflect on my family,' he said softly, idly stroking the soft towelling robe. She shouldn't have felt anything, but her back stiffened and contracted beneath his touch.
'It what?' she exploded, as much as a release for some of her pent-up feelings as in anger.
Leo's mouth thinned. 'St Honore is notorious throughout the West Indies. I understand that his son is as bad, taking on his father's mistresses when they're discarded.'
She groaned. It got worse and worse. 'Do you mean Pascal?'
He nodded. 'So get this absolutely clear: I don't know what you think you're doing with the St Honores, but I won't have you associating with either of them, Virginia!'
'Stop ordering me around!' she snapped. 'I'm not your wife now!'
'No,' he growled. 'But the connection is still there and I refuse to stand by while you bring our name into disrepute—'
'Oh, the Brandon name!' she snapped, sighing extravagantly and adding a yawn for good measure. She picked up a mascara wand and carefully applied the first coat. 'I can't believe what you're saying! Because I was once foolish enough to be married to you, you're asking me to stay away from anyone who might tarnish the reputation of your ridiculously fussy family?' she scathed. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows lifted in astonishment. 'Please! Leave me to manage my life—'
'OK. Have it your own way.' Leo shrugged his big shoulders and started walking away, taking her tension with him. 'The headlines in the papers are full of your disappearance from the jetting scene,' he said, as if it were an afterthought. 'Some talk of kidnap. I'll put them right, of course—tell them where you are and—'
'No! You louse; you wouldn't!' she gasped, leaping to her feet in shock.
'Watch,' he said succinctly. Smugly.
Furious, Ginny flew across to him, grabbing his arm as he reached the top of the steps that led to the external door. 'No, Leo!' she cried urgently. 'I've longed for this time to myself! I'm enjoying being alone! You can't tell the Press!' she half sobbed in angry frustration. 'You don't know how much I need solitude! I want to mingle with ordinary people, to swim and shop, to sunbathe and laze around —Oh, Leo, it's been years since I did things like that! And I want to plan the rest of my life'-'
'Do you?' His eyes were veiled, his expression unreadable. But he was hesitating.
Ginny's eyes lingered on his mouth. So close. A sudden urge to kiss him overwhelmed her and her lips parted, glistening moistly with desire. 'Be nice; do as I ask for old times' sake,' she coaxed, her voice husky with restrained emotions.
His mouth granted another, unspoken request as he read her like a book. Gently his lips moved over hers, tasting, nibbling, savouring her. He inhaled and she knew that he was breathing in her scented skin as she was inhaling his. Then he was pushing her back a little, his eyes darkly mocking.
'Still a witch, using your charms as a weapon,' he drawled. 'Cheap trick, Ginny. Delightful, though.' She wriggled away, her eyes dark with anger. He smiled secretively. 'Shall we come to an arrangement?' he asked.
Her brows drew together in a suspicious frown and her heart pitter-pattered against her ribs. 'What for?' she asked war
ily.
Leo smiled again with a smug satisfaction and traced a line from her chin down to the hollow of her throat, sending her brain into reverse in the process. And her body into full steam ahead. She blinked, trying to clear the wool from where wisdom should have been and stop herself submitting to his seduction.
'Let's see,' he murmured, pretending to consider. 'How about this...? I don't reveal who you are to anyone, you steer clear of St Honore. Then you can have all the solitude and peace you want.'
'Oh.' Her face fell in dismay.
'Not a problem, is it?' he murmured, his finger seemingly fascinated by her collar-bone.
She cleared her throat of the choking lump in it. 'Yes. Leo... I can't steer clear of him.'
'Why?' he asked, a sliver of steel in his eyes.
'There's... there's a very special reason I've come to see him.'
'Which is?' he drawled laconically.
Her huge eyes lifted to his. It would be nice if he understood, she thought. Sharing her hopes and her anxieties with him might help. 'There's a strong possibility he's my father,' she said in a sudden rush.
The trailing finger stilled. She told him then everything she knew. Leo didn't move, but his jaw tightened and his mouth grew harder and grimmer with every second. When she'd finished, she waited, her glistening eyes fixed unblinkingly on his. Which were hostile and frightening.
'I think you're mistaken,' he said stiffly.
'Maybe. But I've got to meet him to find out,' she said with a stubborn set to her mouth. 'He advertised. I read the advert and it mentioned several things about me that virtually no one else could know. I can't just leave this in mid-air. You must understand that. I—I want to find my father very badly. And I must be sure I'm not this man's daughter. There would always be the possibility, Leo. It would be stupid to come so far and not make sure!'
'What if I assure you he couldn't be?'
She blinked in surprise. 'I doubt you could,' she said, puzzled. 'However, if I am convinced he isn't, I'm going to Scotland when I get back. I haven't seen the McKenzies for years and don't really want to, but I have to visit them and question them about my mother and ask them to tell me where I might find her.'
