by Annie West
‘What do you mean? I didn’t do anything to him.’
‘Oh, you’re good. Very good.’ Declan’s words burst out like machine gun fire. ‘You look the picture of innocence.’
‘I had no role in his death. You know that. It was a climbing accident.’
He thrust his head forward, invading her space.
‘It wasn’t an accident.’ A shudder rippled across his skin. ‘He killed himself. Killed himself because of you.’
His accusing finger pointed directly at Chloe. Her heart spasmed and she gasped, pressing the heel of her hand to her chest.
‘No. That’s not true. It couldn’t be.’
But Declan merely stared back, his face cast in harsh lines. Chloe waited for him to recant and say it was a lie, but he didn’t.
Slowly, like dank, creeping fog, awful doubt filled her.
She recalled how Adrian’s friendly interest had changed to stalking, the continual invasion of her personal space. Finally she’d been unable to stay at Carinya. With his brother overseas, there’d been no one to make Adrian see reason or force him to seek counselling. No one except her, and every time she’d tried he’d accused her of betrayal, of not loving him as he did her. She shivered.
Could he really have been so deluded by his fantasy world that he’d taken his life?
‘Tell me it’s not true,’ she pleaded, her hands twisting. ‘Please, Declan.’
For what seemed an age Declan stared back, his face eerily blank. When he spoke again his voice was devoid of inflection.
‘We fell together but we were secured by a rope. Eventually I’d have found a way to get us back to safety.’
He paused, blinked, and then went on. ‘He’d already shown me your photo. He’d described you in loving detail.’ Declan’s voice dripped acid. ‘He raved about the wonderful woman in his life. How much you meant to him. How perfect your relationship was.’
Chloe reared back in instinctive denial, but Declan’s hand shot out and grabbed her arm. His fingers burned like ice on her bare flesh, a living, unbreakable manacle.
‘The day we climbed he was … different. Edgy, not so buoyant. And then, with the accident, it all came out. The truth he’d avoided telling me—how you’d betrayed him.’
Declan’s hold firmed. ‘How you’d used him then rejected him.’ He grasped her other arm and leaned close, forcing her to bow backwards.
‘How Adrian believed his life wasn’t worth living without you.’ Another tremor racked Declan’s big frame and echoed through her.
‘That’s when he deliberately cut the rope and fell to the valley floor.’
A sharp cry pierced the air but Chloe barely recognised it as hers. Her mind was filled with the image Declan painted, of the troubled man she’d known falling down those endless cliffs.
Because of her, Declan had said.
It was nonsense.
It wasn’t her fault.
Yet she felt herself shrivel and hollow with the terrible suspicion that perhaps, if she’d done more, it would never have happened.
She’d thought about putting in a harassment complaint with her employer but assumed, since the complaint was about her employer’s brother, she’d simply lose her job.
She’d considered going to the police for a restraining order but had shied from such drastic action. After all, he hadn’t actually hurt her.
She’d been a coward.
If she’d forced Adrian’s increasingly unhinged mental state into the open maybe someone could have prevented his death.
Her blood froze.
The Adrian she’d met had been a loner, cut off from his London friends and in no hurry to re-establish himself socially in Australia. His brother had been busy overseas and Adrian was content to spend his time at Carinya.
Was she the only one who’d seen his descent into delusion? Who else had there been to witness it?
Guilt filled her. Had she done wrong in running that day he’d gone too far?
No. She might regret not reporting Adrian’s actions, but she couldn’t hold herself responsible for the fantasy relationship in his head. Once she’d left Carinya and heard the news of Ted’s stroke, she’d put everything aside except the need to be with her beloved foster father.
It was regrettable, but it wasn’t her fault.
It only felt like it.
Bruising hands still held her. Reluctantly she looked up into a face drawn sharp with grief and desolation. Did he hate her? Who could blame him when he thought she’d driven his brother to suicide?
‘Let me go, Declan.’ Her voice was heavy. ‘You’re hurting.’
Immediately his grip eased and she felt the brush of fingers on skin as his hands dropped. But he didn’t step away, just loomed over her, his face a stiff mask.
She drew a deep breath. ‘I need to explain—’
‘You think I’d believe your explanations? You had weeks to tell me the truth yet you kept silent.’ He turned his back and strode to the balustrade. He stood silhouetted by the city lights, arms spread wide and bare shoulders hunched. ‘Your explanations won’t bring him back.’
The stark despair in Declan’s voice stopped Chloe even as she started forward. What she had to tell him about his brother would bring pain. Yet she couldn’t let him believe she was to blame.
‘Declan, it wasn’t like you think.’
His bark of laughter ripped the night air apart.
‘You believe I’m that gullible, Chloe? I know you for what you are.’
She took a step closer, torn between distress at his grief and the need to set the record straight.
Because even now she harboured some fragile belief that what she and Declan had shared was special?
‘Your brother and I didn’t have that sort of relationship.’
She watched the bunch and play of muscles in his back and shoulders as he flung his head back, as if taking in the smattering of stars half-obscured by city lights.
‘You say he lied?’ Disbelief and weariness edged his tone, reminding her he’d already gone through too much.
‘He told you … his version of the truth.’
Was there an easy way to tell a grieving man his lost brother had been mentally unhinged?
‘Your brother misinterpreted—’
‘No. Don’t you dare tell me he misunderstood what was between you. I saw the photo on his phone. There was no mistaking that.’
Chloe gasped, her blood freezing as she recalled waking to find Adrian in her room at dawn, taking photos of her in bed. That was the morning she’d decided she couldn’t go on pretending to cope.
Her heart galloped as she recalled Adrian’s nonchalance, his belief he’d had every right to be in her room.
‘It wasn’t what it looked like.’
‘No?’ Declan didn’t turn but his voice told her he didn’t believe a word. ‘You’re telling me your relationship was platonic? I suppose you two never even kissed?’
Chloe hesitated, her tongue glued to the roof of her mouth. She’d never kissed Adrian but he’d kissed her, cornering her in the pantry. She’d shrugged him off, trying to make light of it. Perhaps that had been her first mis-step. Maybe if she’d shown how horrified she was, instead of trying to maintain a semblance of dignity, it would have nipped Adrian’s interest in the bud.
‘I suppose you never shared confidences either, you and my brother?’
Chloe recalled Adrian lingering in the kitchen as she baked, telling her stories of his life in London and his plans to rebuild his career. Before she realised how unhealthy his interest had grown, she’d shared her dream of establishing a catering business.
‘We talked, but—’
‘You talked. You kissed. And now, I suppose you’ll tell me that photo wasn’t of you in bed.’
‘It was!’ she burst out. ‘But not with my permission. Your brother had no right.’
‘No right to expect loyalty from his lover?’ Declan turned and skewered her with a stare so fierce it d
ried the protest in her throat.
If he believed that, why hadn’t he sacked her? Why wait till now to mention it?
‘It’s funny,’ he murmured. ‘When I saw your picture I thought my brother a lucky man. I changed my mind when I learned how shallow and mercenary you were. But when I saw you in the flesh that first time, I understood the attraction.’
‘The first time?’ The words strangled in her throat. Surely the first time was tonight.
‘At Carinya.’
‘You knew … then?’ She frowned, her brain whirling.
‘I knew then.’ His voice held a heavy, lifeless quality that twisted her heart. Till she read the contempt in his dark eyes that once had blazed with tenderness.
Pain scoured deep, radiating in all directions.
‘You believed I’d betrayed your brother and yet you slept with me?’ Her hand crept to her mouth in horror.
It couldn’t be true. It couldn’t.
Something flickered in his eyes, something Chloe couldn’t read. Finally he shrugged, the movement jerky.
‘There wasn’t much sleeping involved.’ He paused, as if gathering himself. ‘Besides, I needed to be sure.’
Her gasp shattered the silence. Nausea rose.
No wonder he’d given off mixed signals that night, pushing her away and taunting her even as he’d drawn her to him with his charisma and potent sex appeal. He’d known she wore silk and talked about how she looked.
How had she not known? She’d thought that night had meant something to him, as it had to her.
Chloe swayed and stumbled back. She squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to stop the world spinning.
Out of the corner of her eye she caught a blur of movement, as if he reached out to steady her. But he didn’t touch her. She must have imagined it.
‘Sure about what?’ Was that thread of sound her voice?
When she looked again his expression was unreadable.
‘Sure you were the sort of woman who’d blithely betray my brother when a better opportunity came along. That’s what I was to you, wasn’t I, Chloe—a better opportunity? You had no qualms about sleeping with both the Carstairs brothers for what you could get out of it.’
She stood rooted to the spot, telling herself she wasn’t hearing this. Her head spun dizzily.
‘It was necessary.’ Declan surveyed her as if he read and understood every tiny, tell tale reaction of her body. ‘But not without some compensations.’
Her heart jerked hard against her ribcage as her hand smacked his cheek.
He didn’t even flinch.
CHAPTER TEN
DECLAN strode down the corridor, ignoring the aromatic scent of coffee that teased his nostrils. He didn’t want to face Chloe this morning.
Last night he’d confronted her with the truth and she’d had no answer for it. He hadn’t felt vindicated or triumphant. He’d been gutted.
The hot imprint of her palm against his cheek had briefly raised his hopes that the real Chloe, the one he’d fallen for, was back. But the hope had been short-lived. She’d had no answer, no explanation. No excuse. He had to face the fact that the real Chloe was the one who’d seduced both his brother and himself in the hope of financial gain.
Yet the memory of her hurrying away last night, one hand pressed to her mouth, evoked guilt. As when he’d let her believe he’d slept with her as a test of her character and greed.
He’d lied.
Declan firmed his jaw. Pain had made him lash out, capitalising on her misunderstanding. He wasn’t proud of what he’d done. He’d almost recanted in the face of her stricken look.
Till he’d remembered Adrian’s anguish. Whatever Chloe felt was nothing to what she’d inflicted on his brother. Yet still he felt torn between what he owed Adrian and what he felt for Chloe.
Declan had worked it all out now. Adrian’s mention in his note of her dumping him for a better prospect had been written just days before Declan arrived at Carinya. Why stick with the bankrupt when the other Carstairs brother was a billionaire?
He recalled how Damon Ives had offered her a job after they’d met in the hotel where she’d worked. It seemed all too likely she’d slept her way into the job.
She said she’d never had money. Had she been so poor, so desperate, she’d sell herself for a little luxury?
He dragged his fingers through his hair. Surely he wasn’t finding excuses for her?
‘Declan.’ Chloe’s voice, thrumming low across his senses, pulled him up.
She stood in the doorway: crisp white shirt, straight grey skirt and sensible shoes. Hair pulled back and hands clasped at her waist. A hint of white, flour perhaps, on one cheek, as if she’d been industrious in the kitchen. It added authenticity to her wholesome image.
If her face looked too pale, so those tiny freckles stood out on her cheeks and neat nose, he told himself it was the sign of a guilty conscience. That must also be the reason for the smudges beneath her eyes.
Yet Declan had to shove his hands in his pockets lest he be tempted to reach out and smooth the tiny frown pleating her brow.
‘We need to talk.’ Her jaw angled defiantly. The gleam in her eyes snared him and he found himself leaning closer.
Abruptly he straightened.
‘Very well.’ He turned and led the way to his study. She was right. They hadn’t finished this.
‘I’ve made cinnamon rolls and coffee in the kitchen.’
So she had been baking. Now she mentioned it, a sweet, yeasty fragrance mingled with the beckoning scent of coffee. Had she hoped to win him over with her cooking?
Lips compressing, he took his seat behind the vast desk. She entered slowly. Was she disappointed he didn’t take up her invitation for a cosy kitchen chat?
He leaned back in his chair, steepling his fingers. ‘You wanted to speak with me?’
Her pale eyebrows rose a fraction but she looked calm, her spine erect.
‘I need to tell you the truth about your brother and me.’
Declan’s heart lurched to a faster beat. He told himself it was anticipation he felt, yet the last thing he wanted was to hear about Chloe and Adrian together.
‘You weren’t in the mood to listen last night and I …’ Her gaze darted towards the doors leading to the roof terrace. ‘I found it difficult coping with so many revelations.’
He said nothing.
She turned and suddenly he found himself drowning in remarkable apple-green eyes. It was hard to believe anyone with eyes the colour of spring and innocence could be so culpable.
He’d been gullible. For the first time in his life, he’d truly opened himself to a woman—not as a short-term lover, but as something more. He’d wanted … everything with Chloe.
Silently he cursed himself for wishing even now the truth could be different.
‘At first Adrian didn’t have much to do with me. After all, I was the hired help.’ Her mouth twisted as if in wry amusement.
Declan stiffened. He didn’t want to know details of their journey into intimacy. But if that was part of his punishment for letting Adrian down, he’d force himself to listen.
‘But he didn’t seem to have anyone else to talk to.’
Familiar regret shot through Declan. If he’d known Adrian was troubled he’d have dropped everything to be there on his brother’s return from the UK. But Ade had assured him he was fine and ready to enjoy some R and R.
‘He had friends,’ Declan said, assuring himself as much as her. ‘Adrian grew up with a wide social circle.’ It was unavoidable, given their parents’ active social lives before their untimely deaths.
Chloe lifted her shoulders. ‘All I know is that he kept to himself. The people he spoke about were those he’d left in London, like his business partner, Diana. He talked of her all the time.’
‘And you decided it was your duty to keep him company, because he was lonely?’
Chloe didn’t react. Her face remained smooth of expression, unnaturally so.
‘Tell me about him.’ Declan was hungry for anything that would help explain Adrian’s depression. Even now it didn’t seem real. There’d been no hint of mental illness in their phone calls and emails, though he’d seemed more preoccupied than usual. Declan had put that down to natural concern over his bankruptcy.
Again her gaze shifted. ‘He couldn’t seem to relax. As the days passed he became restless, almost agitated.’ She paused and Declan sensed her tension. Was it because she’d realised he wouldn’t let her off the hook easily?
‘He sought me out more and more.’
Declan swallowed a sharp retort. Had Adrian sought her out or had she pursued him?
She must have seen the disbelief on his face. Her eyes glittered and her jaw angled infinitesimally higher.
‘It’s true. He talked about his schemes for turning his business around and how good things were going to be when he pulled off some big business coup he was planning.’
Declan frowned. That didn’t make sense. Adrian’s business had gone bankrupt. Declan had had to assist his brother financially the last several months. There was no way Adrian’s business could have been salvaged. Adrian had admitted to Declan he wasn’t sure if he’d even go back to advertising or take up Declan’s offer of a job.
As for him sharing his financial situation with Chloe—according to Adrian’s note, that was when she’d dumped him.
‘But it was more than that,’ she continued. ‘He changed. It seemed whenever I entered a room, he was there. He’d just … watch me go about my tasks.’
Did he imagine a tremor in her voice? ‘What do you mean? He went out less so you saw more of him?’
Again Declan berated himself for not being there.
‘That too.’ She wrapped an arm around her waist. Emotion stirred at the sight of her apparent vulnerability but he thrust it aside. ‘Mainly it seemed he anticipated my movements. Everywhere I went he’d be there, waiting.’ Her words quickened. ‘He even followed me when I went out. Then he’d question me about anyone I met or spoke to, as if he were jealous. It was … not normal.’
Declan sat up straight, his hands wrapping tight on the arms of his chair as precognition prickled his spine.
