by Sara Wood
CHAPTER SEVEN
GINNY let out a little whimper. Leo's hand reached out to cover hers while she sat there, numb with shock. She almost wished that she hadn't made the link. Mary had been pregnant. Disturbed. Ginny shuddered. Her mother had been disturbed too. Suddenly she wanted to deny any connection with both Mary and Vincente. She lifted tearful eyes to Leo's.
'I should have listened to you,' she said shakily. 'I should have left well alone.'
'I'm sorry,' he said, sounding a little stilted. 'I did my best not to wash my family's dirty linen in public but you were determined to find out why I was being evasive, weren't you?'
No sympathy. Only an accusation. Peevishly she drew her hand away. 'So what's the story?' she said dully.
'You already know that Mary was pregnant when she left Vincente,' he muttered. 'When Father got her back to England she was thirty years old, in shock from the journey and naturally disturbed. For a while she stayed secretly in Castlestowe. Father and she decided to hide her condition even from Grandfather. It was the perfect place to hide because it was winter and the castle would be shut up till the season began.'
Ginny nodded. She knew what he meant by that. The social circuit had a set plan and the earl only used the castle from May to September. Amid thousands of acres of gorse and grouse moors, it would have been the perfect place to hide.
'It must have been like a morgue up there,' she said quietly. She looked out at the street below, oranges, reds and yellows predominating in the sunshine. And she thought of grey, unwelcoming Castlestowe. 'A cold, wet, bleak change after St Lucia. Poor woman. What a culture shock. But...you said she disappeared from Castlestowe. What links her with the Glasgow nursing home?'
'The records,' explained Leo. 'Father told me that she was definitely there. I imagine Vincente had Mary traced there too. His investigators would have followed up all the women with children bom around the right time and eliminated them in turn. So I presume they were left with a handful of untraceable mothers who might fit the picture. You were obviously born in the right nursing home on the right day.'
She sat there as still as stone and let that sink in. The truth had been kept from her by Leo because she might be his cousin and he wouldn't want her to be part of his family—especially now that they were divorced. It would be too awkward to admit that the notorious model was part of the Brandon line. Everyone knew that she wasn't good enough.
'Your aunt—what did she look like?' she asked shakily.
'Grandfather got rid of all the photographs. Father was too cut up to talk about her much.'
He sounded angry. Hostile. Despair robbed her body of all its strength. Leo loathed Vincente. And she could be Vincente's daughter. A soft shudder ran through her body and Leo silently handed her his glass, in which an inch or two of rum remained.
'Thanks,' she mumbled, and tossed it back. It revived her brain a little. 'How long have you known?' she asked in a hoarse croak.
'Since I mentioned to Father that you'd gone to St Lucia in search of St Honore. He was appalled and told me then.'
Ginny wanted to cry. But they were in public and she didn't cry in front of strangers. It was probably the reason why Leo had insisted that they talk here. He knew that she'd rather bottle up her tears and her anger than expose her emotions to others.
'You have no idea where your aunt is?' she whispered miserably.
'None. She could be anywhere. She could be dead.'
'I have to find out!' she said jerkily. 'More so now than before! It all fits, doesn't it? My mother being poor and friendless, the fact that she'd been traumatised by something—it might have been because of everything she'd suffered at Vincente's hands. It would explain why she couldn't bring herself to touch me, why she hated me, why she developed a phobia, why she gave me away—'
'Ginny,' he growled, 'calm down and think now. There are some serious consequences of this situation, the first being Vincente—'
'He's a monster!' she said angrily.
Leo gave a curt nod. 'Thank God you realise that now. I want you to promise me you won't try to see him—'
'But I have to!' she cried vehemently. 'Don't you see that? Unless I do, I'll never know! He'll describe my mother. There might be photographs that'll jog my memory. Something to tell us for sure either way. I must find out the truth, Leo. I have to learn it from him.'
She bit her lip to stop the self-pitying tears from spilling out. No time for tears. It was imperative that she go to Beau Rivage and confront Vincente.
'Hell!' Leo removed his hand from hers and ran it through his silky brown hair in weary exasperation. 'Have you thought this through? You go to Vincente, he seems convinced, you take the DNA tests. Then what? What exactly will you do if you are his daughter? Live happily ever after with him? What's the point, Ginny?' he snapped irritably.
Feeling very alone and vulnerable, Ginny stared miserably at him, the rest of her life suddenly a terrifying prospect. Her soft mouth trembled.
'I don't know,' she admitted. 'I only know that I've been someone else for so long—playing the part of a successful international model—that I don't know who I really am any more. When I first came here, I hoped to find out. I wish I'd never meddled, but I have.' Angrily she scooped up a wilful tear with her fingertip. 'So I've got to go ahead, haven't I? Because I know I'll never settle to anything till I've uncovered the real truth about my background. And all I can do is take one step at a time.'
'It might be a coincidence that you were born in the home,' Leo pointed out. 'You can't have been the only baby to arrive that day.'
'No,' she acknowledged. 'The solicitor I spoke to said there'd been another woman who'd come here in response to Vincente's advert. Since the solicitor had heard nothing from her, he'd assumed she wasn't Vincente's daughter. Now it's for me to learn the truth.'
'I warn you,' he said softly, his eyes boring into hers, 'if Vincente should ever learn you've been married to me, he'd say you were his daughter even if you weren't, just for spite. He's that kind of man. Don't imagine you'll necessarily get the truth from him.'
'I didn't get it from you, did I?' she whispered miserably.
Leo's eyes kindled. 'There was a reason for my evasiveness, Ginny. Protection—'
'Yes,' she said impatiently. 'Of the Brandon name. But my peace of mind is more important to me.'
She hesitated, knowing what she wanted to say but scared that she might be turned down. Nausea gripped her stomach. Facing Vincente alone would be a horrific ordeal. She could only do it with Leo. Nervously she shifted in her seat and fiddled with the cutlery.
'I haven't completely absorbed all this. But...it's going to be hard to cope with.' Her eyes lifted in appeal. His face was blank. She'd have to crawl, then. 'Leo, if I've never asked you for a favour before, I'm asking now,' she said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. 'I— I am going to see Vincente. And I can't do it alone. Please!' she begged, her huge eyes moist with unshed tears. 'We don't have to say who you are, but... I want you to come with me...'
'So I'm useful to you now?' he asked.
Ginny flushed. 'You're making this difficult for me,' she said quietly. 'It would suit you to come, after all! You can be Leo McKenzie if you like—but I think it might be better if you were with me, don't you?'
'For the last time, I'm asking you to forget this. If you're hoping that Vincente will make you rich and get you out of debt, I'll give you money. I'll pay your court fees—'
'I've almost done that,' she snapped, her tattered nerves driving her almost to screaming point. 'This is personal. Can't you see that I have to know? If you'll come with me, I'll do anything you want, Leo,' she promised rashly.
He leaned back nonchalantly in his chair, his gaze slowly raking her tense body. 'Anything?' There was a brutally long silence while he held her a prisoner of his charcoal-dark eyes. Tingles of fear sped through her as a gleam appeared in them—a gleam that became a mocking light. 'That's a promise I can't refuse. So yes, I'll go w
ith you to see Vincente,' he drawled. 'Between us, we'll find out whether he's your father or not—and I'll help you to find your mother. That I swear on the honour of the Brandons.'
'And...' Her tongue slipped nervously along her dry lips. 'The price?' she asked huskily.
He smiled and she knew with a sinking heart that the cat had the cream again. What would he demand? Unlimited sex? Never to see her again? Her guaranteed silence if Vincente was her father, never revealing that she'd once been a Brandon? Her unhappy eyes pleaded with his, waiting for his answer.
Leo leaned forward till his mouth was a few inches from hers. 'I'll tell you the price when you know for certain if you're his daughter or not.'
'That makes a difference?' she asked, dry-mouthed.
Swiftly he kissed her, his mouth moistening hers. Miserable and confused, she lifted her hands to his face and held him while she returned the kiss with all her heart. When the pressure of his mouth had gone, she opened her drowsy eyes, her lashes fluttering with the shudders of tension that contact with him always produced.
'The bargain is sealed, Ginny,' he said softly. 'And yes, knowing who you are makes a difference.' He stood up. 'We'll go now. Ready?'
Something held her to the chair—a premonition that Leo would destroy her if she was Vincente's daughter. But there was only one way to find out. 'Yes,' she said hoarsely. 'I'm ready.'
*
'Beau Rivage?' Joseph turned the launch south out of Castries then looked curiously at Leo. 'You got someone meeting you on the beach?'
'No, we haven't,' replied Leo with a faint frown. 'Why?'
Ginny clutched his arm anxiously. They'd decided to give Vincente no warning—and, if he wasn't at home, to wait there till near dark in the hope he'd return. There would be servants around, surely? 'Is that a problem?' she asked.
'Long, long walk,' said Joseph. 'Track's probably overgrown. The master of Beau Rivage don't get out much and he don't look after the plantation.'
'Should we go back to the hotel and take a taxi?' suggested Leo.
'No way!' laughed Joseph. 'Not unless you like riding the road from hell! Tell you something, man—I can set you down at Beau Jardin. That's the next bay. Someone there can run you over to Rivage by truck. They might not go all the way, but they'll get you close enough. OK?'
'Thanks, Joseph. We'd appreciate that,' Leo smiled and steadied Ginny against the sway of the boat as they made their way to the seats in the stern.
It was nice having his arm briefly around her waist but he withdrew it all too soon. Surreptitiously she wriggled closer to him, wanting the comfort of his body because she felt sick with nerves. 'My hands are shaking. This is worse than appearing in a big show,' she said ruefully.
'You'll be all right.' Leo slid an arm around her shoulders. 'I'm with you, aren't I?' he said drily.
'My hero!' she joked, but felt as if that was true.
They both fell silent. Ginny spent the journey preparing herself mentally and emotionally for the meeting. Vincente would be some kind of sick and embittered old man, an ogre, and she'd hate him on sight. But she had to remain polite otherwise he'd never tell her anything. Somehow she had to gain his confidence—and since everyone obviously found him impossible that would be a tall order.
'You're very pale. And very cold.' Leo rubbed warmth into her body. 'It won't take long,' he said huskily. 'Then it'll be over with.'
Ginny gazed at him helplessly and found herself torn in two. It would be a relief to have it all over. But then would come the payment that Leo intended to demand. And then, probably, she'd never see him again.
'Beau Jardin!' came Joseph's shout after a while.
Startled, Ginny looked towards the coastline ahead, her heart pounding with apprehension. However, Beau Jardin looked so beautiful and serene that she felt herself relax a little.
'It's lovely!' she said softly.
'Civilisation, thank God! I was afraid it might be as deserted as Rivage. Looks like we will be able to find someone to drive us over for sure,' commented Leo, indicating the collection of assorted boats in the glassy bay.
The launch slowed and began to motor between the anchored yachts, launches and pirogues, the brightly painted dugouts used as water taxis. They approached the desert island beach—gently lapping waves, pale honey sand, coconut palms dipping to the water. And, set on the cliff that protected the almost landlocked bay, Ginny saw a white stone house with green jalousies and a blaze of colourful gardens around it.
'Gorgeous house,' she said.
'Splendid,' he agreed. 'Whoever lives here is worth a bob or two. Busy place, isn't it?'
There seemed to be a number of families swimming and chatting on the beach and she wondered if this was another secluded hotel. She looked towards Joseph to ask, but he was concentrating hard, his face screwed up with effort.
'I can hear music,' she cried in surprise.
Joseph had been manoeuvring the launch to the jetty and the roar of the reversing engines had masked the sound. Now she could clearly hear a steel band—and saw it too, under the shade of the palms.
'I think we've gatecrashed a party!' Leo frowned.
They were people of all shapes and sizes—an old St Lucian couple or two sitting in the shade of a gazebo, a horde of children splashing happily in the water, people in bathing costumes, casual T-shirts and shorts, elegant tropical suits and floaty dresses.
'It looks fun,' she said wistfully, clambering onto the wooden jetty. 'Thanks, Joseph! Bye, everyone!' She managed a smile and a wave as the boat motored away with its quota of hotel guests bound for Castries. 'I'm so nervous,' she confided shakily to Leo.
'Take my hand,' he said gruffly. 'We'll find the host or hostess and arrange transport.'
Ginny groaned in dismay. 'No need,' she said, aghast. 'I think she's found us! Oh, Leo! This is too much!'
'Good Lord!' he exclaimed. 'Isn't that the woman...?'
Gulping, Ginny nodded. Coming towards them was the brunette who'd burst into Ginny's room, rasped Pascal's name in distress and then fainted. Stunned, she watched the woman approach, taking in the mass of shining brown hair, the simple white string-strap dress, the sweet face tense with anxiety.
'Pascal's wife!' she whispered in horror, and her cheeks flared scarlet with embarrassment at the confrontation.
'I'll protect you,' Leo said under his breath. 'I won't let anyone hurt you.' His eyes slanted to hers when she raised a bewildered face. 'You represent an investment,' he drawled cynically. 'One I mean to share.'
Her mind whirled. Everyone wanted a piece of her. Agents, publicists, managers and now Leo—presumably because she might stand to gain from Vincente's estate! She was only a commodity to them. Not a person at all. 'You want to own a share in Ginny McKenzie?' she asked bitterly.
'Absolutely,' he replied, smoothly suave. 'So let me defend you if necessary. We'll present a united front and I'll inflate my chest a bit. Always impressive.'
'Does nothing for me,' she muttered crossly.
'Smile, sweetheart. Or put on that Grace Kelly stare that freezes blood. Good afternoon, Mrs St Honore,' he said politely.
The woman had eyes only for the mortified Ginny. 'Good afternoon,' she said in a quietly modulated voice.
'Can I help you?' she asked warily, faint disdain on her generous mouth.
'I hope so.' Ginny took her cue from Pascal's wife and adopted a polite, distant manner. 'We were wondering if...' She licked her lips. The woman was so hostile and Ginny cringed with shame.
'Can anyone here give us a lift into Beau Rivage?' Leo asked commandingly. And for once Ginny blessed his air of authority.
The woman drew in a sharp breath. 'No,' she said flatly. 'Walk. It's about three miles. If you find the right track. Watch out for the snakes.'
Ginny glanced up at Leo. He'd gone white. The only thing he feared. And she knew that the deadly fer-de-lance inhabited the rainforest together with boa constrictors which had been brought to the island ages ago to keep the
slaves on the sugar plantations.
'I know why you're being unhelpful. But I think you've misjudged my wife,' Leo said tightly. 'She—'
'Your wife?' Obviously surprised, the woman directed her large hazel eyes at Leo and then smiled the kind of smile at them both that melted hearts. 'Oh, I'm so glad! It was a mistake! Thank goodness!'
Ginny let out a sigh of relief. This wouldn't be so hard as she'd imagined. 'Mrs St Honore—'
'Mandy, please,' she said encouragingly. 'Mandy.' Ginny hesitantly returned the beaming smile. 'I'm Ginny McKenzie. This is Leo. Look... I know how it must have seemed to you,' she said, her face hot and burning with the memory, 'but I'd been taking a shower and your husband came in and—'
'Oh, that!' dismissed Mandy, as if finding her husband glued to a half-dressed woman were a mere trifle. 'Please don't worry about that. Pascal explained. He'll be mortified that he was so curt with you. You must have been poleaxed! No, something else was bothering me. We thought you... No. It doesn't matter. It's all right now, though,' she said contentedly.
Leo's hand tightened around Ginny's waist and she remembered that he'd said that Pascal would not welcome a sister who'd share Vincente's legacy. 'I think we deserve an explanation. What were you worried about?' he asked softly.
It was Mandy's turn to look embarrassed. 'It really isn't important now,' she said awkwardly.
'Surely we have a right to know?' insisted Leo gravely.
Mandy sighed. 'All right. It's not exactly the greatest kept secret in the world. Pascal thought...' She shuffled her feet awkwardly then looked at Ginny. 'He was certain you'd come to St Lucia to be Vincente's mistress!' she said wryly.
'I beg your pardon?' gasped Ginny, deeply offended.
'What?' cried Leo.
'He had good reason—honestly,' explained Mandy. 'Vincente had recently advertised for a companion/ housekeeper. When Pascal heard you'd been asking for his father, he thought—' Ginny gasped and Mandy gave her an understanding look. 'I know; it's awful, isn't it? But everyone here is aware that he likes young women around him to fetch and carry for him. To read to him and keep him company. And... and so on,' she finished delicately, blushing beneath her tan.
