‘What are you talking about?’ It ripped out, savage.
Nicky quailed. But she had to tell him the whole truth now. Even if he looked at her with contempt or loathing afterwards, she could not let him go on thinking she had conspired with Ben against him.
‘Ten years ago,’ she said rapidly. ‘Cotton Island. I worked on your boat one night—’
An oath, shocking in its ferocity, cut her short. Nicky flinched as if from a blow. Esteban’s face was not a mask any more. He looked as if he was going to burst into flames of rage.
‘Pompilia.’ He spat it out like a snake striking.
Nicky stood fast but it was an effort. ‘Th—that was my father’s boat.’
A muscle worked in his cheek. ‘Which he sold on May 4th that year.’
Nicky stared. ‘What?’
‘All I knew about you was that you were nearly sixteen and lived on Pompilia,’ he said evenly. ‘I traced that bloody boat all round the world. Do you know how many times she has been sold?’
‘N-no.’
‘I do. And I know the name of everyone who ever owned her or chartered her. There’s no Piper on the list.’
Nicky could not believe Esteban had done that. She said blankly, ‘Leon always sets up a company to own his boats. He says it’s better for the insurance or something.’
‘So why didn’t he record himself as a shareholder of the company? He wasn’t on any of the lists, believe me.’
‘Trying to keep one step ahead of the creditors, I should think,’ Nicky was shaken into admitting.
Esteban swore again.
‘I suppose that’s why he never seems to have moored at any decent harbour? Never shown his papers anywhere in the Caribbean? Never listed crew and passengers when he put to sea?’
Nicky stared. ‘Are you supposed to?’
‘It’s a good idea,’ said Esteban with restraint, ‘if the boat gets into trouble, that the rescue services know how many people they’re looking for.’
‘Oh.’
‘He was completely irresponsible, wasn’t he?’ Esteban was icy with fury. ‘My investigators could not find any trace of Pompilia until, I suppose, he sold her.’
‘Investigators!’ Nicky was alarmed. ‘Why did you try to find him?’
‘I didn’t. I tried to find you.’
She stared, astonished into blank silence.
He said more calmly, ‘I wasn’t proud of myself. You were so young. I should have kept a lid on the situation. When I had time to think about it, I realised—’ He broke off. ‘But you’d gone. That damned boat had disappeared. None of the port authorities seemed to know anything about it. Even the good old boys in the yacht clubs hadn’t got any worthwhile gossip. I didn’t know where to start looking.’ He gave a sharp sigh. ‘I didn’t even know whether I ought to.’
Nicky swallowed. ‘Why?’ she said in a small voice.
‘My motives are best described as mixed.’ He looked at her broodingly.
She said, ‘I thought you despised me. My whole life I’ve thought you despised me.’
His mouth twisted. ‘Was that what this was all about?’
Nicky did not know what he was talking about. ‘All what?’
He gestured at the door through which Ben had departed.
‘The elaborate set-up.’
‘The what?’
‘Ben,’ he said with distaste. ‘Isn’t that his name? It was a plot, wasn’t it?’
Nicky winced. She hated having to admit what Ben had done.
‘Yes,’ she said in a low, shamed voice.
Esteban looked like stone.
‘I should have guessed it,’ he said harshly. ‘If something is too good to be true, it means it isn’t true.’
Nicky did not understand. So she said nothing. He gave a hard laugh.
‘You even warned me, didn’t you? I should have listened to you more carefully.’
He sounded so angry. This was a nightmare.
‘Warned you?’
‘“I don’t like being messed about,”‘ he quoted savagely. ‘Is that what you think I did, all those years ago? Messed you about?’
Something inside Nicky wanted to reach out to him; almost, if it had not been ridiculous, to comfort him. He stared at her as if he had never seen a specimen like her. As if she filled him with loathing. Nicky flinched.
‘I thought I knew you. I didn’t, did I? Not for a second. Every word, every gesture—it was all planned. And all false.’
‘No,’ said Nicky, understanding at last.
It was too late.
Esteban took a hasty step towards her. Nicky stared as if she had never seen him before. His mouth was compressed into a line of rigid control but the dark eyes were molten.
‘You wanted your revenge, didn’t you? Well, you had it.’
He seized her shoulders. Nicky was too dazed even to resist.
‘And now I’ll take mine.’
She read violent pain in his eyes. She put up a wavering hand, half protest, half caress. He caught it and held her immobile. His mouth came down on hers.
It was an assault on her deepest feelings. It felt as if he wanted to drain all the passion from her to the dregs. As if, when he had finished with her, she would be a bloodless ghost. He did not use his physical strength against her; he used furious desire. Mutual desire.
When he let her go, Nicky felt naked and broken. Her legs buckled. She had to grab hold of a chair-back to keep her upright.
Esteban looked at her as if he hated her. As if she had made him hate himself. ‘You win.’ It was so low she could hardly hear him. He turned his back with an awful finality. And walked out.
CHAPTER TEN
BEN offered to take her back to London. He was very chastened. Nicky refused.
‘If you want to do anything for me, you can get my bag back from Hallam Hall.’ she said.
Ben looked appalled. ‘Tremain will kill me.’
Nicky was too weary to care. She shrugged.
‘What has the guy done to you?’ said Ben, torn between alarm and affront. He was not used to such treatment from his sister.
‘Not him. Me. I did it all,’ said Nicky.
‘You’re not yourself.’
Her laugh broke in the middle.
Ben doesn’t know me, she thought Esteban doesn’t know me. I don’t even know myself any more.
She turned away. She had never felt so lonely in her life.
She travelled back to London on the train, thanking heaven for credit cards and the forethought which had made her tuck her wallet into the back pocket of her jeans. She did not have her clothes, her make-up or her toothbrush but she had her keys and the means to get some money. The rest, if Ben did not retrieve her bag, was expendable.
She collected bread and milk and a couple of escapist videos and spent the weekend trying to put Esteban Tremain out of her mind. It was not a success. What has happened to me? Nicky thought. For years she had hated the man she knew as Steve. In London, before she’d known who he was, she had recognised Esteban as a male predator instinctively. It had sent her into full retreat from him. And then at Hallam Hall everything had changed. Why?
Was it that first evening? She had not been very happy about spending the night alone in the castle. No, she thought in disgust, you can’t get out of it that way. If that was the reason you would have fallen into bed with him the first night. You didn’t.
The television screen flickered unnoticed. Nicky pressed the back of her fist to her mouth to stop herself crying out. Her lips was still tender from that final, forceful kiss. It was a potent reminder of the passion that had shaken her to the core. Not just Esteban’s passion, either. Even as she realised that he would never forgive her, she recognised the depth of her need of him.
It was not just desire, thought Nicky. Heaven knew, her physical response to Esteban had left her with a hollow craving she did not think would ever be assuaged. But what haunted her was the hurt she had seen in his eyes behind t
he anger and betrayal.
If only she had never got involved with him again. Why on earth had she done it? Nicky demanded of herself. Because she had, hadn’t she? Esteban might have been furious because of a misunderstanding. But he would not have had the chance to misunderstand, if she had not allowed him to make love to her.
Allowed him! Nicky stared sightless at the television screen. Who was she kidding? She had responded to him right from the start. But when she had failed to tell him she wanted him he had stopped and gone away at once. In the end, it was she who had initiated making love. It was all her own doing. Her responsibility. She could hardly say he’d seduced her, could she?
Not that it would be any better if you could, Nicky told herself in disgust. Which would you rather be—a weak-minded wimp who can’t say no to an attractive man? Or a vamp who made all the running?
Neither, Nicky thought passionately. I want to be myself again. No weaknesses, no commitments and nothing to be ashamed of either. In full control of my life at all times. I want that night when we drove each other wild never to have happened.
She curled up into a tight ball of misery on the sofa. She sat through three videos, none of which she could remember a word of. In the end sheer physical exhaustion released her. She slept.
On Monday she went to work as usual, except that she carried with her a large package. The first thing she had done when she’d got back to her fiat was parcel up the boots and jacket he had lent her together with the shirt she had purloined. Her eyes filled, looking at the shirt, remembering how he had said he looked forward to taking it off. How it had made her shiver with anticipation.
She gave the package to Sally.
‘Ship it to Hallam Hall,’ she said crisply.
Sally took one look at her face and decided to ask no questions.
The others tiptoed respectfully round Nicky for the rest of the week. And Nicky, working like an automaton, got through a phenomenal amount of work, looked as if she was made of wood and never mentioned Esteban Tremain at all. Not even when a courier brought her suitcase and the showroom resonated with tactful silence.
Once Caroline wondered aloud whether he would be coming in to pay his bill.
‘He’s in New Zealand,’ said Nicky, not looking up from her work. ‘He won’t pay the bill for weeks.’
The cheque came the next day. There was no letter with it. Martin thanked heaven. Nicky’s expression became more wooden than ever.
Esteban was working all hours in final preparation for his trip. He was not best pleased when a tall, handsome man presented himself in the doorway of his room. He did not, however, as a hovering clerk half expected, throw him out.
‘Felipe’, he said coldly.
He stood up, pulling on his jacket, and went forward to shake hands formally. The man who came in was sublimely confident, from his expensive tailoring to the grey wings of discreetly styled hair. He looked distinguished, like an ambassador, Esteban thought dispassionately. Or a film star who played a lot of ambassadors.
‘You’re busy,’ the man said with easy charm. ‘Forgive me. But I’m not in London for long this time.’
Esteban shrugged and closed the door behind him.
Felipe’s smile was a brilliant flash of white in a tanned face. The likeness was unmistakable. They had the same high-bridged nose, the same deep eyes. Esteban knew it. It gave him no pleasure.
‘I won’t keep you from your work long. I wanted to see you.’
Esteban received the information without enthusiasm. ‘Evidently. Why?’
The tall man sighed. ‘Don’t you think this feud has gone on long enough?’
Esteban did not answer that. ‘What do you want?’
‘I heard you were having some problems,’ the other man said carefully. ‘I wanted you to know that I am here.’
Esteban looked at him for a long moment, his eyes hard. ‘I don’t think Patrick would be happy to take your money,’ he said at last, evenly.
‘And you? What do you feel?’
Esteban just looked at him.
There was a sharp silence. Then the man nodded, as if that was what he expected.
‘I see. I’m sorry. I hoped that after all this time you could understand, even if you could not forgive.’
Esteban made an abrupt movement, dismissing it.
‘I’m not your judge, Felipe. It’s not up to me.’
‘In your place, I don’t suppose I would forgive either,’ the man said ruefully. ‘In some ways we are so alike.’
Esteban did not answer that but he stiffened noticeably.
The man hesitated, inspecting a portrait of a grim-faced judge in full robes. Then, as if he was making a last gamble, he swung round to face Esteban.
‘Esteban—your mother and I were too young. She hated being so far from her family and I resented not being enough for her. I never meant to hurt her,’ he said with desperate earnestness. ‘Surely you can understand now, even if you couldn’t when you were ten. I just didn’t seem to be able to control myself. And she—’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Esteban, as if he could not bear to hear any more. ‘I can understand that. More than I ever wanted to.’
Felipe stopped dead. ‘What?’
‘The genes run true,’ Esteban said curtly.
‘What?’
‘That’s why I’m the last person to sit in judgement on you.’
He started to gather up the papers on his desk. Felipe watched him.
‘What is this?’
Esteban’s jaw set. He was clearly regretting his outburst. He did not look up.
Felipe said slowly, ‘It’s not just me you have to forgive, is it?’
Esteban’s hands stilled. He looked up at last His eyes were agonised.
He burst out as if he could no longer contain himself, ‘Oh, God, Father. I hurt her. I must have been mad. I don’t know what to do.’
Nicky’s bruises faded but her inhuman efficiency did not. Her colleagues watched with increasing concern. When Ben rang to speak to her on Friday morning, Martin de Vries intercepted the call and closed the door to his office firmly.
‘What’s wrong with her?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve never seen her like this.’
‘Neither have I,’ said Ben miserably. ‘She won’t speak to me when I call her at work. And at home she keeps the answering machine on and won’t answer the door.’
‘Bad,’ said Martin. ‘Do you know why?’
Ben admitted it.
‘Then you’d better come round here and talk to her. I’ll make sure she stays late tonight.’
He did. When she saw Ben, Nicky gave the first sign of life he had seen in a week.
‘Get out of here,’ she cried.
But Ben had toughened up during a wretched week. He seized her by the arms and held her still.
‘Listen to me, Nick,’ he said urgently. ‘I’ve talked to the police. They say Tremain may withdraw the complaint.’
Nicky’s face lost all colour. She stopped struggling in his grasp. Her eyes fixed on him painfully.
Ben drew a long breath. ‘He won’t talk to me. Can you try? Please?’
Nicky flinched. ‘He’s out of the country.’
‘No, he isn’t,’ Ben said eagerly. ‘He’s at his chambers. I’ve just come from there.’
She hesitated. ‘He hasn’t tried to get in touch with me. How can I—?’
But Ben was a much loved brother, she reasoned. They had always got each other out of scrapes. And she had spent some considerable time alone with Esteban Tremain, after all. Another twenty minutes wouldn’t hurt. Or wouldn’t hurt any more than she hurt already.
‘Oh, all right,’ she said.
People worked late in chambers every night but Friday. That was the day of the week that they cleared their desks at four, or earlier, packed children or the tools of seduction into their cars, and piled off for the weekend in the country. Esteban had heard them clattering downstairs into the dark evening as the building emptied.<
br />
Anne appeared in the doorway.
‘The courier has collected the papers for Auckland. I’ve typed the Vereker Opinion but I’m only halfway through Raleigh Processors.’
Esteban blinked. His eyes were gritty with tiredness.
‘That’s OK. As long as I can have it by Monday afternoon. Anything else?’
Anne hesitated. ‘Well—there’s a woman. She didn’t say what she wanted but she kept talking about the police. She’s in the clerks’ room.’
Esteban was puzzled. ‘Police?’
‘Could be blackmail,’ said Anne, who had seen a lot of life since she’d started working for a barrister. ‘Won’t give her name. Blonde and gorgeous.’
‘Blonde?’
Esteban was on his feet and out of the door before Anne could answer. No waistcoat, no jacket, and his shirt-sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular forearms. He did not seem to notice, much less care. He positively ran down the corridor. The clerks, thought Anne, would have the shock of their lives if they saw him now.
But the clerks’ room was empty except for a slim blonde figure huddled in a damp coat.
Nicky had paced up and down in the courtyard for a long time before she’d plucked up the courage to go in. As she looked up at Esteban’s tempestuous entrance, her heart nearly failed her. He looked so wild. So—her mouth dried—utterly sexy.
‘It is you,’ he said in an odd tone.
She could not think of a thing to say.
He pushed a hand through his hair. She had never seen him so dishevelled. She wanted to smooth it so badly it was like a physical need. She thrust her hands up her sleeves and folded her lips together, speechless.
‘What are you doing here?’
‘I—’ Her heart was beating so hard she thought he must be able to hear it.
‘Come to my room,’ he said harshly.
Her pulses leaped. She followed him without a word.
‘Now,’ he said, closing the door firmly and putting his back to it as if he would never let her out again, ‘you’re here. Why?’
Nicky tried to remember. The look in his eyes did not make it easy. ‘M-my brother.’
‘Who?’ He looked impatient
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