Scarlet Lady

by Sara Wood

  'Why?' she asked shakily.

  'This, my darling.'

  She felt his mouth surround her nipple and closed her eyes, yielding helplessly to the gentle devastation. 'It's not enough for marriage,' she rasped. 'And what about...?' Her groan was stopped by his kiss, long and coaxing, and the slide of her body against his made her want to sigh in despair. Angrily she pushed him back, fixed him with blazing tawny eyes and said jerkily, 'What... about... Miss Suitable?'

  'Who?' he murmured in amusement, his beautiful head lowering as he began to graze her shoulder with his teeth. And the soft flesh at her waist, her hip...

  'Is...?' Ginny moaned, fighting off his marauding hands. They were going too far, too fast; she wasn't ready—-Well, she was, but she would not go any further till she knew why he should have changed his mind so dramatically and...

  He was kissing her mind away. A great surge of love overwhelmed her, blasting any sense into a million pieces that she'd never put together while he held her like this, touched her with such delicacy. Pressure. Just enough, perfect, so attuned to her body that he knew how to spin her into that mindless world of total pleasure. And she was spinning, everything forgotten again as she sought to be the most seductive, the most alluring woman he'd ever set eyes on.

  I love you, she said silently as his eyes adored her body, arching voluptuously to him. I love you, she thought with deeper passion as he groaned and kissed the entire surface of her skin while she stretched and writhed in bliss and frustration.

  'I love you,' she whispered somewhere in the darkness of the soft night. Maybe she'd said it aloud. She didn't know. There was a blur between fantasy and reality. 'I love you. I love you.'

  She would give anything to be with this man for the rest of her life. Even her pride. A shiver ran through her as his dark form hovered over her, his eyes suddenly blazing with a feral brilliance. And her hand reached up to caress his face at the same time as his reached out to stroke hers. Perhaps she was being a fool...

  'Ginny!' husked his teasing voice. 'You're frowning!

  Her wandering finger traced his aristocratic nose, the well-bred mouth that echoed the mouths of his ancestors, a relic of eight hundred years of power and authority. It smiled and nibbled her finger, shaping into sultry lines. For her. But...

  'How can I trust you?' she whispered, her eyes huge with anxiety.

  He smiled in a loving way that made her heart lurch. 'Because I am trustworthy and because you have to. Let's talk in the morning. I want you, now, tonight.'

  And he smiled his bemused, knee-weakening smile, his eyes so warm and worshipping that she found her tense muscles slowly relaxing, her flesh seeming to melt into a liquid that flowed into him. This was real love, she thought when a million stars burst in her heart as he kissed her with a poignant tenderness. And then she surrendered herself totally and could think no more.

  The sky glowed with dawn embers when she floated back from the turbulent hours spent in Leo's arms. Gradually collecting her drifting thoughts, she lay supine against the bulk of his sleeping body, wondering what was so different about his lovemaking.

  Something more desperate and fierce had marked his demands. An exciting, ruthless determination. But there had been so much gentleness, a touching restraint sometimes, as if his greatest wish had been to please her. And she'd been the one who hadn't been able to wait, who'd encouraged him to release his hunger and take his passion to the limits.

  Ginny cautiously stretched her body. It felt loved. She smiled dreamily. Leo had been like a real lover. So attentive that if she didn't know better she could have sworn...

  Her heart flipped in shock. Everything he'd done, the way he'd looked at her, the way he'd touched her with wonder and awe—every gesture and word had told her that he loved her. If so, the marriage would work, because they'd make sure it did this time. But—

  'Marry me,' came his velvet voice, drowsy with sleep. He rolled over and grinned his heart-stopping grin.

  Unfair, so early in the morning, she thought ruefully. She felt *weak and drained of all energy to defy him— or to deny herself. He'd smashed all her defences and she hadn't time to put them up again. 'I'd be mad to,' she mumbled, watching the paddle fan turning, round and round.

  'Marry me,' he coaxed with infinite seductiveness.

  And his body was so warm and he held her so lovingly that she knew it would be impossible to refuse him whatever he wanted. 'We'd have to solve the problem of my work—'

  'And Castlestowe,' he said, pre-empting her. 'I know. We can do that if we both really want to make our relationship work. I do. I think you want to as well. I know it'll take you a little while to be convinced—but you do want to marry me, don't you?'

  How could she look into his eyes and deny that? 'Yes, I do,' she said shyly, and he hugged her. It would be all right, she told herself. This time it would be for ever.

  Because they were both in such a happy mood, breakfast was very jolly. After Leo had made a business phone call to his father, they sat on the terrace overlooking the bay with Pascal and Mandy and Susannah, the sea a dazzling turquoise, the air perfumed with exuberant tropical flowers, the bird song almost overpowering.

  And Ginny thought that there couldn't be a more perfect place on the island. Unfortunately, they had an unpleasant day ahead of them. Somehow Leo had to persuade Pascal to let him have transport to Beau Rivage. Breakfast was almost finished. They lingered over coffee, Pascal and Mandy holding hands—she and Leo too.

  'I suppose you'll be wanting to get to Rivage,' said Pascal.

  Susannah stiffened as if she'd been slapped and Ginny blinked in surprise. Before she could say anything, however, Leo had squeezed her hand in warning and was nodding at Pascal.

  'I think we'd like to get it over with,' he said easily. He smiled at Ginny and kissed her frown-lines. 'Pascal and I had a chat during the party,' he explained. 'I explained we had business there.'

  'What business?' asked Susannah harshly.

  Ginny quailed under the piercing look that Susannah was giving her. Ginny wasn't happy with Leo's stretching of the truth. She liked Pascal and Mandy so much that she wanted them to be long-term friends. If they ever knew that she'd abused their hospitality, by omitting to tell them the true reason why she'd come to see Vincente, that friendship would founder. And Susannah looked ready to defend her beloved Pascal from anyone who might take a share of his inheritance.

  'It's all right, Susannah,' said Pascal gently. 'Nothing to worry about.'

  'That's what you think,' muttered his aunt, and left the table abruptly.

  There was a surprised silence and then Pascal cleared his throat. 'There's a vehicle waiting outside for you. The keys will be in the ignition. Do you recall the way to Rivage from the map in my study?' he asked Leo.

  'I do. Up to the flame-tree, turn right, keep going. Say aurevoir to your aunt for me. See you later tonight, then.' Leo was embraced by Mandy and Pascal shook his hand.

  'I don't envy you doing business with Vincente,' said Mandy wryly, hugging Ginny.

  'Nor me.' Pascal bent his flax-blond head and kissed Ginny three times on her cheeks. 'Don't let him cheat you. Everything Vincente does is for himself. Remember that.'

  They waved goodbye and drove off through the banana plantation and Ginny felt a great affection sweep over her. 'Pascal and I might be brother and sister,' she said reflectively, thinking that that must be the reason.

  'Well... no.'

  Ginny looked sharply at Leo. 'You sound worryingly certain about that! Did he say anything yesterday that's convinced you I'm nothing to do with Vincente?'

  'On the contrary,' he replied softly. 'I'm almost certain you are his daughter. It's Pascal who's the odd one out. He's not Vincente's son, you see.'

  Ginny gasped and Leo concentrated on steering for a moment while he negotiated a large pothole. 'For heaven's sake, Leo,' she said impatiently, 'you can't leave a remark like that hanging in the air! Explain what you mean!'

  'Pas
cal and Vincente have always disliked one another. During a row, Vincente took much pleasure in telling Pascal that for the past thirty-two years he'd been hating the wrong father. So he has no claim to any inheritance.'

  'Well, I'll be...' She twisted around as a thought suddenly struck her. 'Who told you?'

  'One of Mandy's friends. Everyone knows, apparently.'

  'Does his aunt know too?'

  'Of course.'

  'Then why was she so hostile when she knew where we were going? She'd been perfectly civil until then.'

  'I don't know. Maybe she just hates Vincente. Yes, OK, I know it's not a convincing answer.' Leo thought for a moment. 'She's Vincente's younger sister, I gather.Perhaps there's something else going on in that family that we don't know about. It's not important. Except for the fact that you might shortly be joining it.'

  Her stomach knotted. 'You sound so sure,' she said tremulously. 'Why?'

  'I rang my father before breakfast and talked to him. He admitted that he's convinced you're Mary's daughter. He said he had good reason to be so sure and that he could virtually guarantee it. Initially, he'd been hoping that you wouldn't insist on seeing Vincente. Since you were so determined, he said he had to confess that it's something he's suspected ever since he heard about your background. The same nursing home. The Glasgow connection. The way you look. Your age. Everything.'

  'Oh, Leo!' she whispered.

  'Father's conviction is good enough for me. Maybe that's why he hated the thought of us marrying. He loathes Vincente,' he muttered.

  Ginny fell silent. Something she'd only been half believing had suddenly become very real. She was on her way to meet her father. How would she feel when she saw him? Repulsed? Disappointed? Ashamed?

  Her lower lip wobbled annoyingly and she clenched her teeth. No use running scared now. She was in too deep. Shaking with nerves, she tried to compose herself.

  They passed between neat rows of carefully tended bananas and occasional groups of fruit trees—mango, breadfruit, pawpaw, sour-sop, star apple... A garden of Eden, where everything flourished in the warm, damp soil.

  And then, as if they were moving into a different world entirely, they passed the boundary-marking flame-tree and into a tangled wilderness.

  'Vincente's land,' said Leo quietly. 'Pascal told me to warn you that it's reverted to nature. And that he lives in a shambles. Be prepared.' To her surprise, he reached over for her hand and kissed it. 'I'll be with you,' he said in a low tone. 'I'll make sure you come to no harm.'

  'Thank you,' she said gratefully. 'Thank you.'

  During the drive, seeing the neglect and the evidence of hurricane damage through the banana plantation, the occasional cocoa trees with the beans hanging black where they'd been eaten by tree rats, she became increasingly nervous, panic fluttering inside her breast like a terrified bird. When she finally caught sight of a building ahead, she reached out her hand to rest on Leo's shoulder for the reassurance of his strength and support.

  'That must be the house,' she whispered nervously.

  Once beautiful, it was now almost a ruin, the jalousies hanging off their hinges, the veranda roof leaning drunkenly and the wood of the single-storey house bleached white by the sun. There were traces of its former colonial grandeur—intricate carving on the posts and framework, evidence of a grand avenue of lofty king palms and ornamental flower-beds around an enormous lake thick with fabulous water lilies.

  Ginny felt overcome with sadness.

  'Wow!' exclaimed Leo in admiration, stopping to take in the still splendid sight. His eyes lifted to the dark green hills soaring into the sky—a magnificent backdrop for the ash-coloured house. 'This could be so beautiful!'

  Ginny tensed. Either she was over-sensitive or there was something close to acquisitiveness in his tone. As if it was running through his mind that he might be master here one day. It would be justice, she thought, the idea coming to her out of the blue. And she quailed.

  If he was married to her and she really was Vincente's daughter, Leo would jointly inherit Beau Rivage. Thus he would avenge his aunt. The Brandons would be appeased. Vincente had harmed one of his family—and the Brandons cared for their own, protected them against all others. Their motto, emblazoned on their silver and crockery and their notepaper, was 'Family First unto Death'. Ginny drew her trembling hand from Leo's shoulder. Was he marrying her purely to acquire Beau Rivage?

  'Bear up,' he said softly, turning sparkling eyes on her. 'You'll be OK. Leave the talking to me.'

  She couldn't have said anything if she'd tried. There was a huge lump in her throat and horror was churning up her stomach. Numb and blank with apprehension, she sat stiffly while Leo drove up to the veranda, and shakily stepped onto the weed-strewn drive.

  Leo's arm came around her shoulders. She would have shrugged it away but she didn't think she could manage on her own. The front door was open and when no one answered their calls they went inside.

  It was dark and smelt musty. Ginny gave an involuntary shiver. 'It's cold,' she whispered, looking up at the beautifully carved ceiling. And there was no joy in the house. Her glance took in the antiques, the carefully polished mahogany furniture, the delicate fruit woods, oriental vases, a French clock and matching mirror. Priceless rugs lay scattered on a floor the colour of honey and massive paintings in ornate gold frames crowded the panelled walls. Someone kept house for him. Someone cared for it, she thought.

  'Hello!' called Leo into the silence.

  'I suppose he's not at home,' she said, resigned to a wait. 'We could...' She paused. There had been a sound, deeper in the house. The sound of a man sobbing. The hairs prickled on the back of her neck. 'Leo!' she whispered, clutching him.

  'I'll go-'

  'No!' she squeaked. 'Don't leave me!'

  'Damn! I should never have brought you! I should have come alone—'

  'We have to see this through,' she said shakily. 'Together.'

  The sound proved to be coming from behind a door at the end of the corridor. Leo tentatively turned the handle and pushed the door open while Ginny held her breath. A man with thinning grey hair was sitting on a comfortable chesterfield, weakly crying into a blue silk handkerchief.

  Ginny felt her heart soften. This was no ogre. She firmly pushed Leo back, insisting with a jerk of her head that he didn't reveal himself. After a silent battle between them, he drew behind the door and she took a step into the room. 'Vincente,' she said gently.

  He jumped, then turned and scowled, deep clefts gouged between his greying brows. 'Who the hell are you?' he demanded irritably.

  'Virginia McKenzie. Virginia Temple. Daughter of Sarah Temple. Born in Sunnyside Nursing Home twenty- five years ago.'

  She stood there while he gaped at her. Once he'd been handsome. Now he seemed weary of life, the lines of pain etched deeply on his face. But a light had come into his watery brown eyes and suddenly he was smiling.

  'Virginia?' he quavered.

  'Yes,' she said gently. 'You sent for me.'

  'You are tall. Elegant. Blonde... Mary!' he groaned, covering his face with his hands.

  Ginny flew to his side, forgetting the kind of man she'd been told he was, only knowing that he was deeply unhappy. Kneeling in front of him, she drew his hands away and held them in sympathy. 'What's upset you?' she asked in soft compassion.

  Vincente studied her face intently. 'It doesn't matter now,' he said gruffly. 'You're here. And you are Mary's daughter. God forgive me for what I did! I've paid for my anger over and over!'

  'Your...anger?' she said, thinking of his assault on his wife.

  'Your mother and I quarrelled, Virginia,' he said in a low mutter. 'About Pascal. He's Susannah's son, you see.'

  'Susannah's?' cried Ginny in astonishment. 'But... she's not old enough, surely—?'

  'She was sixteen when he was born.' Vincente paused, staring into space, and his face showed the despair that he must have felt then. 'My cousin Louis seduced her,' he said grimly. 'Louis and I
had always been rivals—he was engaged to your mother before me. When Mary fell for me and broke off the engagement, Louis turned to my sister for consolation.'

  'And seduced her in revenge?' Ginny asked hesitantly.

  Vincente looked into the distance as if searching his memory. 'I think they genuinely loved one another,' he admitted.

  'I don't understand why you had to pretend Susannah's child was yours,' she probed.

  Vincente sighed. 'To protect Susannah from the scandal. We decided to bring the child up as our own. We'd wanted a child for a long time. An heir to Beau Rivage.'

  'I see.' Ginny knew only too well how important an heir was where dynastic families were concerned.

  'Mary pretended she was pregnant. She stayed in the house to make the pretence easier. When Pascal was born, everyone believed he was our son.' He frowned. 'Unfortunately, Mary's enforced time indoors meant that it became increasingly hard for her to face going out and she developed a fear of open spaces.'

  Ginny nodded, remembering that Leo had told her that Mary had suffered from agoraphobia—which had supposedly been caused by Vincente's ill-treatment. However, she believed Vincente's story about Mary gradually growing afraid of leaving the house till the problem had reached mammoth proportions. It made sense. She wondered if there was any connection with her mother's obsession with cleanliness. Perhaps she'd never know.

  'How did Susannah feel about surrendering her baby?' she asked quietly.

  'I never asked.' Vincente looked ashamed. 'We thought it was for the best,' he added, as if anxious not to appear callous. 'And we made sure she didn't get emotionally involved. A few years later, Mary said that Pascal should know who his mother was. I thought it was better not to rock the boat. We argued... Pascal was only six... He came in and found us yelling at each other. Pascal thought I was attacking her. I'm a monster in everyone's eyes,' he added gloomily.

  Vincente's alleged brutality seemed unfounded. But something else had to be cleared up. The question burned on her lips. She had to have it answered. 'The rumour is,' said Ginny, taking a deep breath, 'that you flaunted your mistresses in front of your wife and that she ran away because you brought one into the house.'