Forbidden Fruit

by Charlotte Lamb

  Hurrying into her bedroom a moment later, she quickly slammed the door and tried to lock it, but the key had gone.

  She stood, staring, and heard Giles on the other side of the door, his voice amused. 'I'll come and find you when I'm ready—you've got about half an hour, Leonie!'

  He walked on along the corridor, and she backed, forehead corrugated, wondering what to do—should she give in, or refuse to go to this party?

  How dared he remove the key from her bedroom door? How dared he threaten her? Who did he think he was?

  She heard his shower running, and looked at her watch. Time was rushing past; she had to make up her mind.

  But she knew she had. She was too scared of a scene in this house, with her mother-in-law and the servants listening. Giles knew that, damn him.

  She threw open her wardrobe and looked at her clothes. What was she going to wear? She didn't have many clothes which were suitable for a smart party. All the women there tonight were going to be dressed to kill.

  Then her eye fell on one dress she had not worn for many months. She couldn't have got into it while she was pregnant. Malcolm had chosen it, picked it out for her to wear at a party they had gone to just over a year ago. She had felt very self-conscious in it, and had only worn it that once, although it had made quite a stir at the party. But it had been Malcolm's favourite dress and he had constantly urged her to wear it, without success. A sexy black satin, it was skin-tight, hugging her body from her breasts down to her knees but leaving much of the rest of her bare: her arms, her shoulders, her throat and the beginning of her breasts. She knew it made men stare, but she had never been the sort of girl who enjoyed that sort of attention.

  An angry little smile curled her lips. Giles wanted her to 'impress' his friends, did he?

  She pulled out the black dress and held it up against herself, staring at her reflection in the long mirror in the wardrobe door, then she laid the dress over her bed and went to have a shower.

  Giles opened her door some half an hour later and stopped in his tracks, his eyes narrowing and his jawline tight.

  She pretended to ignore him, her attention given to a wayward strand of blonde hair which kept trying to curl the wrong way, but of course she was tensely waiting for his reaction to the way she looked.

  Curtly, he suddenly snapped, 'Oh, no!'

  'What?' Leonie asked, all innocence.

  'I'm not taking you, looking like that!' he grated, and she swung to face him, blue eyes wide and mock-surprised.

  'What do you mean?'

  'You know perfectly well what I mean,' Giles said through his teeth.

  'Don't you like the way I look?' she murmured, smoothing a hand down over the clinging black satin.

  His eyes followed the movement of her hand, down over her swelling breasts, the small waist and rounded hips, and she heard the intake of his breath, saw the flare of his nostrils, the glitter of those hard grey eyes. 'Be careful, or I'll show you just how much!' he muttered thickly, and suddenly Leonie couldn't breathe.

  Giles watched the colour creep up her face, and he laughed. 'And there isn't time for that!'

  Leonie couldn't think of any answer for that, but he didn't wait for her to answer him, anyway; he looked at his watch, and grimaced. 'There isn't time for you to change into something more suitable, either!'

  'You told me to put on my best dress!' she snapped. 'Well, this is it! It was Malcolm's favourite, anyway.'

  A long silence followed, charged with an intensity she felt in every nerve of her body, then Giles swung on his heel and walked out, saying over his shoulder, 'We're going to be late if we don't hurry.'

  She picked up her short evening coat, a quilted black velvet lined with silk, slid into it, collected her matching black velvet evening bag, and followed him more slowly, getting cold feet now that she was on her way to the party.

  His wealthy, snobbish friends were going to stare at her in disbelief, their respectability outraged by the very sight of her. She felt her heart sink. Why had she done it? Oh, she had told herself she was putting on the black dress to annoy Giles, but that hadn't been true.

  She knew she had been kidding herself. The truth was, she had wanted to see that look on his face; it excited her to excite him, and that was stupid, that was crazy, because it was dangerous.

  She was in his power. Wasn't that bad enough? Why had she put ideas into his head by dressing this way tonight? She had never liked living dangerously, she wasn't the sort of girl who enjoyed walking a tightrope, and the last thing in the world she wanted was to attract Giles. Wasn't it?

  She bit her lip, shivering. Well, wasn't it? she asked herself angrily, and the question echoed inside her head without any answer coming back.

  What is the matter with me? she thought, What is going on? She looked down the stairs to where Giles waited for her, a tall man, his face hard, his body lean and powerful in his formal black evening suit, and felt almost sick with nerves and a strange yearning.

  Oh, no, she thought: I'm not really falling in love with him, am I? That really would be insanity. I can't let it happen.

  She almost turned and fled back up to the safety of her room, but at that instant Mrs Kent came out to say goodbye to them, her eyes widening at the sight of Leonie in the very provocative dress.

  Heaven knew, what she thought, but she didn't make any comment, just said, 'Have a lovely evening, both of you!'

  Leonie managed a shy smile before Giles took her by the arm and steered her out of the house into the waiting car. George was driving them, so that Giles could drink at the party. With another pair of ears attentive to everything they said, they were almost silent during the drive, which only lasted ten minutes, anyway.

  There was a line of cars turning into the great wrought-iron gates leading into the park around Cairn House. George slotted into place at the end of the procession, and they made their way at a funereal pace, their wheels grating on the gravelled drive. Looking out of the windows, Leonie saw little of the parkland; a dim outline of a tree here, the white blur of a grazing sheep there.

  'What time shall I pick you up, sir?' asked George as he opened the car door for them in front of the elegant portico of the large white eighteenth-century house, which was one of the loveliest stately homes in Essex.

  'Eleven-thirty, unless I ring to change the time,' Giles said.

  Leonie was staring up at Cairn House, which was floodlit, giving something of the effect of moonlight on the perfectly proportioned facade of the building. She had seen it from the road as she'd driven past, but she had never been able to see it close up, and, of course, she had never been inside. It was wonderful, she thought, transfixed. She had always thought Warlock House was beautiful, but this was in another league altogether. It was a work of art.

  George drove on, and Giles and Leonie turned towards the steps leading up to the portico, under which waited Lord Cairnmore himself, a grizzled, upright figure in evening dress, his silver hair gleaming in the darkness.

  Giles put a hand under her elbow and led her up to meet his godfather, who smiled down at her with a mixture of curiosity and admiration.

  'This is Leonie, sir,' Giles said, and the old man held out his hand.

  'Leonie. I am very pleased to meet you at last. I wish I could have been at your wedding, but unluckily I was abroad. I hope you and Giles are going to be very happy, my dear.'

  She murmured, 'Thank you,' shyly, and he smiled again.

  'You know, this is a very elusive fox you've managed to corner! A lot of pretty girls have hunted him in the past without success, and everyone was incredulous when they heard that he was getting married at last—but one look at you makes it very clear why you pulled it off where they failed! Every man here tonight is going to envy him. I do myself! Giles, I hope you know what a lucky fellow you ate?'

  'I do indeed,' Giles drawled.

  Leonie liked Lord Cairnmore; there were lines of humour and kindliness in his face, but there was strength ther
e, too.

  'I hope I'm going to see a lot of you in the future, Leonie,' he said, and she smiled up at him, surprised and relieved that he was being so welcoming. She had not expected this warmth.

  'Thank you, Lord Cairnmore.'

  'Call me Harry,' he said.

  'Stop flirting with my wife, sir!' Giles said, looking wryly amused.

  'Was I?' The older man pretended surprise, then grinned at him. 'Sorry about that, Giles! But that's something you are going to have to get used to, I'm afraid. You shouldn't have married someone this gorgeous if you didn't want other men to look at her!'

  'Looking is OK,' Giles drawled, sliding his arm around Leonie's waist in a proprietorial, possessive gesture. 'So long as they don't go any further than that!'

  Lord Cairnmore laughed loudly. 'Going to be a jealous husband, are you, Giles? Well, why not? Why not? Don't blame you. Take her inside and get her a drink. I'll see you later.'

  He turned to welcome some new arrivals, and Leonie and Giles moved on into the candlelit hall, fragrant with bowls and great vases of flowers, where they were welcomed by Lord Cairnmore's elder daughter, Jess Cutler, whose husband, Neil Cutler, was a famous polo player and horse breeder.

  Leonie had seen photos of Jess Cutler in the Press often enough to recognise her at sight. A woman of around forty, Mrs Cutler was herself reputed to be one of the best riders in England, and she certainly had a face like a horse, a well-bred horse, with a long, thin nose and high forehead, straight brown mane and enormous, staring eyes.

  After shaking hands with Leonie, to whom she said very little, she talked to Giles about mutual friends, braying with laughter now and then.

  Suddenly, she said, 'Can't believe it, you know. You, of all people, getting married! I tell you, Neil almost burst into tears. He thinks it is a terrible waste, he says. He did say he was going to ask you to let him have your little black book, so that he could console all your old flames, but, if he asks you, you had better not say yes, or I'll be after you!'

  Giles laughed. 'Don't worry, I won't let him have it!'

  'I should hope not,' she said in her loud, as-sued, arrogant voice, then glanced at Leonie before saying, 'Which reminds me, I'd better warn you: Steff is here.'

  Leonie stiffened, her face going blank, mask-like, while behind that her mind was busy working out what Mrs Cutler meant.

  Steff? Who was Steff? Then it dawned—Mrs Cutler must mean Stephanie Ibbotson, a vivacious redhead Giles had been dating around the time Malcolm first took Leonie home to meet his family.

  Stephanie Ibbotson might be designing gardens for wealthy clients at the moment, but she had been a photographer at one time, and had once been a photographic model herself, when she was about eighteen. She had never quite hit the heights in any of her careers, but she did have a genius for self-publicity, which meant that she was well known in spite of not being a huge success.

  'I didn't know she was a friend of yours, Jess,' Giles drawled, his expression bland. If the news that Stephanie Ibbotson was here worried him, he certainly did not show it by so much as a flicker.

  'I wouldn't call her a friend,' Jess Cutler said with faint hauteur. 'She's designing a garden for me. You know Neil inherited a manor house over the border in Suffolk from a cousin last year? Place hadn't been touched for years; garden gone to seed, house worse. We had to wait all this time to get possession—you know how the lawyers drag their feet on these things. Anyway, we couldn't possibly move in, of course, not with the place the way it was, so I got a good architect and builder to do the house, and Steff to do the garden for me.'

  'She's very talented,' Giles murmured, and Leonie shot him a glance.

  In what direction? she wondered acidly, and then caught his eye and hurriedly looked away, hoping he had not read her expression. She did not want him to think she was jealous. She wasn't, of course. Not in the least.

  'Oh, she's doing a wonderful job! Transforming the place! Of course, gardens take time, but already you can see it's going to be absolutely fabulous.' Jess looked past Giles into a panelled reception hall behind him. 'And speak of the devil, there she is!'

  Leonie and Giles followed her glance, both of them immediately recognising the young man talking to Stephanie Ibbotson.

  'I told her to bring someone and she turned up with a good-looking young doctor,' said Jess, laughing. 'It gives a whole new meaning to the words private medicine, doesn't it?'

  Neither of them laughed, but Jess was oblivious to their stiff expressions. Her eyes flicked past them and her face lit up. 'Gerry, darling— wonderful that you could come!'

  She darted off to greet the newcomer with outstretched hands. It was no surprise that he should be another of the horsy fraternity; a bluff man in his thirties with a fresh complexion, hard face and casual manner.

  Giles said coldly, 'The guy with Steff is the fellow who came to the wedding, isn't it? Andrew something or other. The one who offered you a flat?'

  Leonie nodded, frowning. 'I can't understand what he is doing here!' she thought aloud.

  'Did you expect him to stay faithful to you forever?' Giles asked with a sting in his voice, and she flushed.

  'Andrew was never involved with me—it was Angela he was seeing!'

  Giles looked at her sharply, frowning. 'Angela?'

  'Yes.' Leonie was feeling guilty because she had forgotten all about Angela since the birth of baby Malcolm. So much had happened, she had had so much on her mind. 'I should have rung or written,' she said regretfully, 'She came to see me and Mal while I was in hospital, but since then I haven't seen her. I kept meaning to get in touch with her, but there was always so much to do. Maybe she and Andrew have split up? I do hope not; he's so nice, and Angela was really serious about him.'

  'From the way Steff is gazing up at him, I'd hazard a guess that she's pretty serious about him, too,' Giles said with a sort of venom, and Leonie wondered if he was jealous. Which of them had ended their relationship—Giles or Stephanie Ibbotson? How did he really feel about her? Leonie's heart sank as she stared across the room at the other girl. Stephanie Ibbotson was beautiful, so vibrant with that red hair and vivid green eyes, her figure dynamic and sexy in a jade-green silk dress. She made Leonie feel colourless and boring.

  'That seems to bother you,' Giles said in a clipped way.

  Starting, Leonie looked up at him, stammering. 'What? No…I…why should it? I just didn't think Andrew was the type to switch girlfriends every few weeks.'

  Giles bit out irritably, 'You don't know who broke it off—him or your friend Angela. She has had quite a few men in her life, hasn't she? She isn't the faithful type, exactly.'

  Frowning, Leonie said, 'You don't know her well enough to say something like that!'

  'Malcolm talked about her a couple of times. I got a pretty clear idea of what she was like.'

  'Angela has been unlucky with her men,' Leonie muttered. 'She always seems to pick the wrong ones.'

  'That's a classic pattern with men and women,' Giles said, drily, and she wasn't sure exactly what he meant by that. There was something in his expression that made her feel he was not just talking about Angela. He had always made it plain that he thought she was the wrong girl for Malcolm—was he obliquely saying so, again?

  She met his eyes angrily, reacting more to what she thought he might be hinting at than to what he had actually said. 'Why are you always so censorious? What makes you an expert on the subject? And don't say anything against Angela—she's my best friend, I've known her since we were at school together!'

  Giles laughed suddenly, his face relaxing. 'Oh, I'm up against the freemasonry of women, am I? Oh, well, I won't say another word. Angela is perfect, of course.'

  Leonie bit her lip, then laughed, too.

  They stood there, smiling at each other; and Leonie felt a strange happiness flooding through her; she felt weightless, as if she could float, and as free as a bird. She could almost believe that if she tried she would be able to fly. She could not ever r
emember being this happy for a very long time, and that was amazing, that was in-credible, because it meant that Giles had made her happy simply by smiling at her, and that might be frightening if she let herself dwell on it. Was he becoming that important to her?

  'Leonie?' a startled voice said beside them a moment later, and with a wrench she tore her eyes away from Giles and turned to look at the other man who had come up to them.

  'Oh… Andrew…' she stammered, her voice husky and unsteady because she was still reverberating with the wild happiness she had felt when Giles had smiled at her.

  'I can't believe my eyes!' Andrew said, gazing at the way the skin-tight black satin dress followed every curve of her body. He grinned wryly. 'Sorry if I'm staring, but the last time I saw you you looked so different.'

  'I was seven months pregnant at the time!' she said lightly.

  'So you were!' Andrew laughed, then caught sight of the black scowl Giles wore, and stopped smiling. 'Congratulations on your son,' he said quickly, changing the subject. 'I heard all about him from Angela.'

  Leonie gave him an uncertain glance, wondering whether or not to ask the obvious question. 'How is she? I haven't seen her for ages.'

  'Neither have I,' Andrew said, grimacing. 'She got a job working with some film crew, making costumes, and went off to Spain for three months to work out there. I had a few postcards and phone calls at first, then nothing, so I don't know if I'll ever see her again.'

  Leonie impulsively took his hand, squeezing it warmly. 'I'm sorry, Andrew. Angela has always… well…' She didn't know quite how to phrase it, but Andrew grimaced and bluntly said it for her.

  'She's fickle, you mean? Yes, I've realised that now. I did think we had something special, and I was knocked for six for a few weeks, but I'm getting over it now. I've met this terrific girl…' He grinned, and Leonie laughed.

  'Oh, I am glad,' she said, and he put an arm around her, hugging her in a brotherly way.

  'You're so sweet, Leonie!'

  There was a rustle of silk next to them a second later, and then Stephanie Ibbotson drawled, 'Giles, what is going on here? Are you going to let every man in the place make love to your wife?'