This Man's Magic

by Stephanie Wyatt

  It was Luc who broke it, not giving in but rather changing course. 'I think it's time for a confrontation, don't you?' he said softly.

  Sorrel blinked as what he was suggesting sank in, then agreed with considerable relish, 'It can't be too soon for me. I've quite a few things to say to your "incorruptible" Miss Killingley.'

  'Then shall we go?' he invited blandly, a tone that, had she known him better, would have made her suspect he was up to something.

  But, unsuspecting, Sorrel was already half-way to the door, picking up her handbag from the sofa, saying over her shoulder, 'There's a pot roast ready to pop into the microwave, Tam, if you'd like to stay and eat. I'll have mine cold with pickles when I get back.'

  'I'd have thought a beautiful girl like you would have a husband and family to cook for by now,' Luc remarked as he opened the passenger door of the sleek Mercedes. And when she still hadn't responded as he pulled out into the desultory Sunday morning traffic, 'Well? Why don't you have a husband and family to look after?'

  'I doubt if it's for the same reason you don't have a wife and family to support,' she answered obliquely, and he laughed.

  'All right, let's begin there. Why do you think I don't have a wife?'

  'Because there are too many women eager to give you the benefits without any of the drawbacks,' she retorted promptly.

  'And just what would you say were those benefits and drawbacks?'

  'In your case? The benefit of access to many women's beds without the drawback of having to commit yourself to only one.' It wasn't easy to make the statement without allowing a blush to crawl up her cheeks.

  He shook his head as if hurt by her low opinion. 'And what would you say if I told you I'd welcome a commitment if only I could find that special woman I could love?' he asked softly.

  Sorrel's stomach seemed to roll right over and, just for a few moments, her wayward imagination was putting herself in the place of that special woman. This time she was unable to control the blush that reddened her cheeks. 'I'd say either you haven't been looking very hard or you're particularly hard to please if you haven't found her in forty years.'

  He frowned. 'You're determined to make me out a dirty old man, aren't you? As a matter of fact I'm four years short of forty. How about you? Rather more than that, I guess.'

  'More than forty? I'm twenty-six!' Outraged, she fell neatly into his trap.

  He grinned. 'I meant more than four years short of forty, of course. So, if you don't have the same reason for remaining unmarried as you believe I have, I'd be interested to know it.'

  Sorrel kept her lips folded.

  'You don't sleep around?'

  This was too much. 'Like you, you mean? No, I don't, so you needn't come up with any more pointed allusions to Charlie.'

  'Having seen the redoubtable Tammy on the warpath, I'm willing to admit I was way off-beam there,' he conceded magnanimously. 'But no other special man in your life?'

  'Perhaps I'm like you and haven't found the one I could love yet,' she returned waspishly, this conversation making her feel uncomfortable.

  While they had been talking the car had been covering the ground effortlessly. Looking around her she thought they could be heading towards Highgate or Hampstead. 'Where are we going?' she asked belatedly.

  'You'll see when we get there. So, if we're both looking for the right partner, there could be hope for us yet,' he pursued.

  'Us? Oh come on, I'm a forger, a liar, a cheat and a thief, remember,' she hooted, but her insides had turned to the consistency of warm butter.

  'You said it!' The car slowed to turn in between impressive gateposts.

  'Wow!' Sorrel found herself looking at the white facade of a house standing in at least an acre of closely shaved lawns where daffodils tossed their heads in immaculate beds and a large forsythia sprawled over one side of a treble garage. 'There must be a lot of money to be made pirating other designers' work if Miss Killingley can afford to live in this style!'

  Luc was looking at her very strangely but as she unclipped her seat-belt she was too busy noticing how many other cars there were parked in the drive. 'Oh lord, she's got company,' she muttered. 'Do you think we ought—'

  'It's only a drinks party.' He gripped her arm and urged her towards the front door which was standing a little ajar. 'Surely you're not going to back out now.'

  Shrugging off her misgivings, she allowed him to lead her into a large hall that seemed to be crammed with people. A sudden uneasiness raised the hairs on the back of her neck, though there was nothing in the restrained opulence of the decor and furnishings to account for it, an uneasiness that increased when she realised Luc had closed the door behind them as if cutting off her retreat. A number of people greeted him but he didn't pause to introduce her, and Sorrel looked around for Miss Killingley, wanting to get this confrontation over so she could leave. But the only familiar face she saw was that of Bianca Fratelli, and almost at the same moment the model spotted Sorrel's companion.

  'Luc!' The crowd seemed to part for her as she threw herself into his arms, hugging him delightedly. 'I thought you told me you weren't going to make it!'

  The English public school accent coming from a girl who looked so completely Italian was nearly as much of a shock to Sorrel as the wave of pure jealousy at the tender amusement on Luc's face as he bent to kiss the girl's smooth cheek.

  She turned, smiling, to Sorrel. 'I don't know how you got him here, but obviously your persuasion was more effective than mine.'

  'Oh, but—' Sorrel slanted an embarrassed glance at Luc, expecting him to explain her presence to his girl-friend. When he didn't, she stammered, 'A-actually this isn't a social occasion, more sort of business—'

  'Of course!' The dark girl's eyes widened in recognition. 'I've been puzzling over where I've seen you before. It was in Luc's office several weeks ago, wasn't it?' A mischievous smile made her piquant face look positively impish. 'Oh, I bet he didn't enjoy having to admit he was wrong!' And then, at Sorrel's blank face, 'You have sorted that business of the letter out, haven't you? You must have done or you'd hardly be here.'

  'Bianca, darling, you're talking too much as usual,'

  Luc drawled, pretending not to notice Sorrel's puzzled glance. 'As Sorrel says, we have a little matter of business to dispose of, then I'll be back.' He was turning Sorrel away from the model when she caught sight of another familiar face across the room, deeply tanned now after his month in Barbados, the grey eyes staring at her in horrified recognition.

  Every muscle in her body stiffened into rigidity as it all fell into place. Time for a confrontation, Luc had said, and she had assumed he'd meant Miss Killingley. 'This is my father's house,' she accused him in a stricken voice.

  'It's Felix Valentine's home,' he mocked hatefully. 'As you would have known had you really been his daughter.'

  Sorrel closed her eyes, as if by cutting out the scene it might disappear like a bad dream. 'You don't understand…' she muttered, then more forcefully, 'I must go!'

  But Luc's hand clamped painfully round her arm. 'Oh, no you don't, you little cheat. You'll stay and face the music.'

  She flung back her head to stare at him contemptuously, unaware of Bianca or any of the other Sunday morning party-goers who might be listening. 'My father may eventually forgive you for this, Lucas Amory, but I never shall!'

  A muscle twitched in his jaw, but like a juggernaut he rolled imperviously on, not deviating from his purpose or relaxing his grip on her arm as they waited for the man hurrying towards them.

  'Sorrel, for God's sake, what are you doing here?' Her father's hoarse undertone scraped along her nerves. 'You promised you'd see Luc was discreet.'

  'I'm sorry, Father, but Mr Amory has been playing games.' She held herself proudly, refusing to be cowed or even embarrassed. 'I had no idea it was your house he was bringing me to.'

  'I don't understand…' Harassed, with not a shred of his usual cool dispassion remaining, Felix Valentine looked at his frozen
-faced friend.

  'It's quite simple,' Sorrel said. 'Mr Amory didn't believe you wrote that letter for me. He believes I forged it.'

  'Oh, hell!' Perspiration stood out in beads on her father's forehead.

  'Felix…' Luc's voice sounded strangled. 'You mean she really—'

  'Don't look so worried, Father,' Sorrel cut across him rudely. 'I would have left as soon as I realised if Mr Amory had allowed it. And if you'll ask him to unhand me, I'll go at once.'

  She felt Luc's hand jerk away as if he'd been scalded, while red slid beneath her father's tan. 'Damnation! It doesn't seem right to turn you out of my home, my dear, only Marcia…'

  But retreat was too late. A slender woman of supreme elegance, her grey hair cut into a carefully casual style, was already bearing down on them, eyes only for Luc Amory, smile and hands extended in welcome.

  'Luc, my dear man! We haven't had a glimpse of you since before we went away.' She put her cheek up for his kiss, then turning to Sorrel with a politely welcoming expression, her face froze. 'You!' Rounding furiously on her husband she hissed, 'Did you ask her here? Without telling me? How could you! You promised…'

  Suddenly Sorrel had had enough of them all, the arrogance of Luc Amory who didn't care who got hurt as long as he did things his way, the rather pathetic weakness of her father, Marcia's obsession with old grudges. 'There's no need to browbeat my father in public, Marcia,' she drawled, uncaring who heard. 'The responsibility lies entirely with your dear friend Mr Amory. And now he's had his fun, I'll leave.' Nodding frostily at the outraged Marcia and her distinctly uncomfortable father, and ignoring Luc completely, she turned away, only to feel once more his hand on her arm.

  'I'll take you home, Sorrel,' he said stiffly.

  'You will not!' The look she gave him should have stunned anybody at twenty paces.

  He released her arm but persisted stubbornly. 'I brought you here.'

  'So you did.' Her lip curled contemptuously. 'And now you should stay and explain why you were so keen to cause my father and stepmother such embarrassment.'

  With unconscious dignity she turned and walked out of her father's house. And Luc let her go.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Once again the outsider, Sorrel thought bitterly as she stalked down the drive. Well, she could get along without her father or Luc Amory. She'd done it before and she'd do it again. They were brave words but they didn't stop her hurting.

  Indignation and pride kept her warm as she walked along the residential road lined with houses ranging from the quietly luxurious to the ostentatiously opulent, but she had left home without a coat and, by the time she reached the end of the road, she was shivering in the cool March wind.

  She had passed the Spaniards, a famous pub she'd heard of but never visited, when a car pulling up beside her had her whirling defensively, not the Mercedes she'd feared but a snazzy red sports car, though the girl sliding out was only too familiar.

  'Sorrel, do let me run you home,' Bianca begged.

  Sorrel was staggered to see her, then unreasonably angry. 'I suppose he sent you. Do you always jump to his bidding, Miss Fratelli?'

  The dark girl grimaced. 'Bianca, please. And you don't have to tell me how bloody-minded Luc can be, though he's not nearly so bad when you get to know him.'

  If Sorrel found it strange that Luc Amory's girlfriend should have come after her to offer her help, or that she should take the trouble to plead in Luc's defence, she was still too upset to think about it. 'But then he hasn't accused you of being a liar and a thief,' she dismissed, 'or implied that if you have a father, you must be a bastard.'

  Oddly, the pretty model seemed to flinch at her hard words, and Sorrel felt a stab of compunction. 'I'm sorry. I've no right to vent my spleen on you. Thanks for you offer, but no thanks. I'll pick up a cab in the village.'

  'Oh, but Luc said—' Bianca began to protest, and the name was enough to have Sorrel bristling again.

  'Please,' she broke in firmly. 'If you want to do something for me, then go back to the party and tell Mr Amory to stop bothering me.'

  'But you're shivering, and no wonder, without a coat.' Bianca herself was dressed in a warm wool suit that looked like a Chanel. 'Is it worth getting a chill just to score off Luc? Forget him, and let me take you home for my peace of mind, huh?'

  And so genuinely concerned did the girl seem that Sorrel found herself folding her long legs into the sports car.

  With the heater going full blast, she soon stopped shivering, and when Bianca chatted lightly about a wide range of innocuous subjects, mostly her experiences as a fashion model, she found herself liking the girl, liking her sense of humour, her ability to laugh at herself, her complete lack of affectation. No wonder Luc was often reported and photographed in her company. The wonder was that he was still seen in the company of other women, too. Bianca was very young, of course, and maybe he was afraid of being accused of cradle-snatching, except she couldn't imagine Luc allowing gossip or anything else to stand in his way.

  They were passing the Tower of London before Bianca introduced the topic that had thrown them together that day. With a muffled giggle she gurgled, 'I keep seeing Luc's face when he found out Felix Valentine really is your father! No, it's all right,' she hastened to add when Sorrel shifted uncomfortably in her seat, 'I'm not going to ask questions even if I am dying of curiosity. It's just that Luc does hate being wrong.'

  'I can imagine,' Sorrel said drily, reminded that although she had proved her relationship to Felix Valentine, she still had to prove her claim to her designs. Which meant almost certainly she would have to meet Luc again, a prospect she viewed with mixed feelings.

  Monday morning found Sorrel in her work-room by eight-thirty, the issue still unresolved. She had thanked Bianca for bringing her home and had got into her apartment to find Tammy and Charlie still waiting. After explaining the events of the morning and listening to their indignant sympathy, she had tried to settle down with her sketch-book, but had found herself listening for the buzz of her entry-phone which would herald Luc Amory's arrival. So sure had she been that he would try to see her, if only to apologise for all the insulting names he'd called her, she could hardly believe it when bedtime came and she'd still heard no word.

  If he thought that was the end of the matter and he had got away with stealing her designs, he had another think coming, she told herself angrily. Mr Forster might still be away until tonight, but there was nothing to stop her calling his chambers and getting one of his minions to slap an injunction on Amoroso. And in the meantime, physical work fitted her mood.

  Pulling her stool into the concave curve in her workbench and making sure the chamois leather apron beneath the curve was securely in place to catch any fragments of precious metal that fell, she took out her current piece of work from the drawer. It was a silver christening bracelet, commissioned and due for collection in a couple of days; six dainty spring flowers, each one different. The individual pieces had been returned from the assay office on Friday, and beside the assay stamp, each also bore Sorrel's mark, the entwined SV. On Friday she had done the hand finishing, and now all that remained to be done was to link the pieces together and give them their final polishing.

  Putting everything else out of her mind she set to work with jeweller's glass, needle-flame gas torch and silver solder to join the tiny links. It was intricate work but Sorrel's fingers moved deftly, her concentration absolute, so when a hand descended on her shoulder she jumped visibly.

  'I'm sorry,' Luc Amory said. 'I didn't mean to startle you.'

  'Well, you did. You nearly gave me heart failure.' Her heart was still slamming against her ribs, but there was an element of excitement mixed in with the shock. Not wanting to admit this to herself she said disagreeably, 'What are you doing here, anyway? Creeping in to see if I've got any more designs worth stealing?'

  'You knew I'd be back,' he said with his unassailable confidence.

  'Well, I did rather expect at least a phone c
all yesterday,' she said with heavy irony. 'If only with an overdue apology.'

  'Were you disappointed, Sorrel?' His dark eyes mocked her but the intimacy in his tone sent her stomach into another roll. Worse, she was very well aware that her most predominant emotion yesterday had been disappointment.

  'As a matter of fact—' Luc picked up the bracelet she had been working on, examining it as he spoke. '—I wanted to come yesterday but I was afraid you wouldn't let me through the door. I thought if I left it till this morning your righteous indignation might have spent itself.'

  Righteous indignation! The man was so arrogant he made even an apology sound like an insult. 'And don't you think I had the right to be indignant?' she demanded. 'I'm sure it took a much more convincing apology than the one you've just given me to smooth down Marcia's feathers.'

  To her surprise he said quietly, 'Yes, you had every reason to be upset, not only with my insensitive method of getting at the truth but also with the treatment you received from your father and stepmother. And I haven't even begun my apology yet.' He laid down the bracelet and glanced at his watch. 'Trouble is, time's getting on. I've left instructions for Miss Killingley to present herself in my office at nine-thirty, so if we're not to be hopelessly late, we should be going.'

  'We should be going?' Sorrel echoed faintly. 'I—I had intended to leave the recovery of my designs to my lawyer. I know Mr Forster isn't there but someone in his office can begin the process of taking out an injunction.'

  'Forster?' Luc's expressive eyebrows signified his shock. 'Of Forster and Stalbridge?'

  'You know him?' The idea was unwelcome. Wouldn't it just be her luck if he was Luc's solicitor, too!

  'I know of him.' He was frowning. 'At least, I know he's one of the top men, and he doesn't come cheap.'

  'No,' Sorrel agreed. 'He's been looking after my affairs since I was a child.'

  'Well, you can still get your injunction later, if necessary,' he suggested disconcertingly. 'But you could save yourself a lot of money if we can resolve our dispute without resorting to the law. It shouldn't be too difficult. Both you and Eve Killingley claim those designs. One of you has to be lying. If it's Eve, don't you want to see her get her just desserts?'