“Remember, Liana? We ordered cases and cases of champagne. The waiters who delivered them to our room couldn’t imagine how we were going to drink all of those bottles, just the two of us, and unchilled bottles at that. They didn’t even try to hide how crazy they thought we were, did they? But we didn’t care. Remember how we laughed?”
She remembered too well—the joy and the sunshine that temporarily had hidden the reality of why she was with him, the feeling on that afternoon that no one else in the world could possibly be experiencing the same intensity and passion as she was.
“When they left, we emptied the bottles into the bathtub, undressed, and got in.”
He licked a spot on her neck, then kissed it. A shudder raced through her, and her head fell back against his chest. “Richard. ”
He went on, his words thicker, huskier. “We made love all afternoon. Looking back on it, I don’t think it was so much the champagne that made me drunk as it was drinking it from your skin. I own several wineries now, but not one of them produces a wine that tastes half as good or as potent as what we bathed in that day.” Suddenly he spun her around, and the desire she saw burning in the gray depths of his eyes made her gasp and go weak at the knees.
“What do you think, Liana? Would you like to take a champagne bath with me again? We both know more now. We’ve had more experience. We could make that champagne boil.”
She jerked away and lashed out at him, desperate to hurt him as he was hurting her. “How’s your wife, Richard?”
He didn’t even blink. “You mean my ex-wife? She’s happy and healthy and living a very rich life with my money. Which was the whole idea in the first place.”
She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “She married you for your money?”
“Of course.”
“And you knew?”
He nodded, his gaze never leaving her. “Since I’d already experienced a relationship with deceit, I thought one without deceit might work. One where both parties knew what they were getting. Her, my money. Me, a hostess and sometime companion.” He shrugged. “In the end, It was worth the money she wanted to get rid of her.”
A chilling wind sent her gown swirling out around her, an undulating midnight blue cloud
in a midnight black world. Her throat burned with emotion too raw to express. “I’ve got to go.” She turned sharply and started off down the path. “Wait.”
She felt his hand close around her arm and whirled on him like a wounded animal. “Don’t touch me! I can’t stand it!”
Puzzlement scored his face as he stared at her. “I couldn’t have hurt you, Liana. ”
That was really funny, she thought, but found she couldn’t laugh. “Just leave me alone.” She turned again, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible, but she didn’t get very far before the heel of her shoe came down on a pebble and she stumbled.
Somehow Richard was there to catch her, disgust in his voice. “Lord, you can’t even walk.” He swept her up into his arms and started back toward the house.
A violent storm of turmoil closed in around her. His strength, his scent, his overwhelming masculinity—his trap had closed around her. “I can make it on my own,” she insisted.
“Obviously not, Liana. You’re drunk.”
She was sure she was, but there was more than wine working in her. Her world was spinning out of control, she didn’t know how to stop it, and suddenly she was too tired to try. She went limp against him, winding her arm around his shoulder and resting her head against his chest. “There,” he said. “That’s better.”
No, she thought. It wasn’t better. It was simply the only choice she could make at the moment. She could detect no tenderness or caring in the way that he held her, but she was too weary to worry about his motives. “Can we just stop our hostility for tonight?” she murmured.
“A truce?” he asked mockingly. “What an imaginative idea.”
The lights were brighter now; they were drawing closer to the house. She sighed softly, her breath exhaling against the strong column of his throat. “Can’t you let it go? Even for a short while.” His arms tightened, pulling her even closer against him. “I don’t know. ”
“Just for tonight. I can’t fight you any more tonight.”
“Then don’t.”
There was something in his voice that made her add, “I also can’t make love with you.”
“Who said anything about love, Liana? I can’t recall that I did.”
What was the use? she wondered despondently. She should have known better than try to reason with him, but she supposed being held in his arms had warped her judgment. In the future, she’d remember. Their past made reason impossible.
“Put me down, Richard,” she said as they approached the back of the house. “I don’t want anyone to see you carrying me.”
“Worried that your glossy image will be destroyed if someone sees you drunk?”
“I’m not drunk.” And she wasn’t anymore. The wind and Richard had whipped all effects of the wine from her.
“Don’t worry. No one will see you. By accident, I discovered a back route the other day.” He shifted her weight slightly and opened a small rear door that led into one of the back halls of the house. Once inside, he carried her to a service elevator that transported them to the third floor. Only when they were outside her door did he allow her to stand.
“Well, here you are, more or less safe, more or less sound. For now.” He waited for some sort of retort from her.
But she sagged back against the door and her sleepy eyes drooped closed. He frowned. Strands of her pale wheat-colored hair had come loose from their coil and lay in enchanting tendrils against her cheek and shoulders. Thick dark lashes threw shadows over the flawless, nearly translucent skin of her cheeks. Her breasts rose and fell above the low neckline of her gown as she breathed. She made him furious.
Why the hell did she have to be so beautiful? And why was she so damned tired? And most of all, why, out on the bluff, had she screamed at him when he’d grasped her arms? The most obvious answer was that she was repulsed by his touch. Except, she had appeared traumatized, and he had been reminded of a small wounded animal trying to protect itself. “Where’s your key, Liana?” The sudden sound of his voice shattered the lulled state of suspension into which she’d fallen. Her eyes flew open, and she automatically reached into the bodice of her evening gown and pulled it out.
His hand made a fist around the metal warmed by her body, and his eyes darkened. “Do you always carry your key between your breasts?” “When I don’t want to bother with a purse.”
He stared broodingly at her for a moment. “Would you flinch away from me if I touched your breasts?” Their confrontation on the bluff had drained all her energies. The simple truth was the only possible answer. “Yes.”
Holding her eyes, he lifted his hand and stroked a petal’s outer rim of the lily pinned over her heart. The topaz center glimmered golden. "It might be worth it.”
“You’d like to see me flinch?”
“Given my preference, I’d rather see you under me, hot as hell and wild out of your mind.” Helplessly, she shook her head. “Why do you say things like that?"
“Maybe because it’s so damned much fun getting a reaction out of you. ’’
“Fun? You’re having fun?”
“Oh, absolutely,” he said grimly. He inserted the key into the lock and opened her door.
The light beside the tall, silk shrouded bed cast a warm glow into the room. The bed and the oblivion it offered beckoned, but from experience Liana knew that sometimes even sleep wouldn’t let her forget. She heard the door click closed behind her. Instinct told her he hadn’t left.
“You’re going to need help undressing.” He walked up behind her and quickly, easily unzipped her dress.
She gasped and barely managed to grab the dress to her before it fell to the floor. Holding it tightly to her breasts, she felt exposed. She took several steps a
way from him, then swung around. “Don’t ever do that again!”
He shoved his jacket aside and planted a hand on his hip. “You know, you’re as confusing as hell, lady. This time, at least, I was only trying to help. ”
“Don’t make a big thing out of .it, Richard. I don’t like to be undressed, that’s all. ”
“Your men must hate that a lot, but then again, maybe it’s just one more thing that fascinates them about you. I know you sure as hell have my attention. This afternoon you dissolved like sugar for me. Tonight, you can’t even stand my hands on you.”
“This conversation is pointless. You and I are pointless.”
“Pointless, Liana? Well, you’re probably right. But then what difference does it make when we’re having so much fun.”
She drew a deep, steadying breath. She had to get him out of her room before she broke down. “Richard, the past is past. It accomplishes nothing to dredge it up. I’m here to work. You’re here for a holiday. I think it’s best if we avoid each other.”
“You came to that decision all by yourself, did you? Very good, sweetheart. There’s just one thing. A small thing really.”
She didn’t want to know. That’s why she couldn’t figure out why she asked, “What?”
“I still want to touch your breasts, quite badly as it happens. And you might as well know something else, I don’t want to stop there. You asked for a truce, Liana, but we haven’t even really gotten started, and a cessation of anything between us is unacceptable to me at this point in time. I’ll tell you when we’ll stop. I’ll tell you when we’ll begin.” His eyes glittered hard as diamonds as he raked his gaze over her. “Goodnight, Liana. Sleep well.”
Four
Liana woke the next morning with a headache and a stiff knee. Neither was enough to keep her from the day’s shooting; she couldn’t ever remember missing work.
Today would be the first time.
After the tumult of yesterday, she simply wasn’t capable of facing anyone, much less the camera. Projecting the cool, poised look she was known for would be impossible.
Clay would probably go up like a rocket when she told him, and although she wouldn’t let his reaction change her mind, she dreaded what she was about to do. She reached for the phone and dialed Clay’s room number. “Good morning,” she said when he answered. “This is Liana. ”
“Good morning, Liana.”
He’d been expecting her call—the strange impression flashed on and off in her mind like a light bulb. “Listen, I’m sorry, but I’m not going to be able to work today.”
“Oh? What’s wrong?”
He sounded very calm, very reasonable, she thought, somewhat amazed. But then again, he probably knew to the ounce how much she’d had to drink last night since he’d been filling her glass. “Nothing is really wrong. I think I just need some rest.”
“That’s probably a good idea. Take it easy today.” “I feel really guilty about this delay, but—” “Hey, don’t feel bad. Fortunately our schedule has some flexibility built into it. Trust me, this won’t hurt the shoot at all, and the crew will bless you.”
She blinked. “Well, okay, then. Thanks, Clay. I’ll work extra hard tomorrow.”
“Just promise me you’ll relax today.”
“I will, and thanks again. Good-bye.” She hung up the phone and gave a sigh of relief. The hardest part was over. Now all she had to do was decide how she was going to spend this day.
She needed to be alone, to repair her nerves and rebuild her mental strength, but finding space where she could be alone would be easier said than done.
To stay in her room all day would stifle her. And mingling with the guests at the hotel was out. She wouldn’t be able to bear their stares, their attempts at conversation, their requests for autographs. No, she had to get away from the hotel.
She could take one of the rental cars and drive up the coast, but somehow exploring SwanSea’s grounds appealed to her more, and she’d noticed that not many people were taking advantage of the grounds that lay beyond the pool house and the tennis courts. She quickly dressed, slipping a violet cotton camisole over her head and tucking it into the waistband of a violet and periwinkle circular skirt. With sandals completing the outfit and her hair in a thick braid down her back, she left the room.
In his suite, Richard disgustedly flung his razor into the bathroom sink and leaned toward the mirror to view the tiny amount of blood oozing from the nick on his jaw. Too much caffeine, he supposed. Now that he thought about it, he seemed to remember the doctor, during his last checkup, bluntly telling him to cut down on the coffee. Oh, well.
Splashing water on his face, he cleaned the last vestiges of shaving cream from his cheeks and throat, then reached for a towel. A minute later, he strode into the bedroom where he downed yet more coffee, and as a concession to his churning stomach, ate a cold piece of toast.
A fitful night’s sleep had driven him from his bed early. He’d worked awhile, read the paper, and dressed. What now, he wondered, definitely edgy and restless.
He hadn’t had a vacation in eleven years, and he was learning that relaxing was certainly easier said than done. As a matter of fact, it took a great deal of determination. SwanSea offered any number of activities, but somehow nothing was holding his interest.
Just being here was a social advantage, and the business contacts he could make, if he were so inclined, held great potential. The prospect of the art auction was also something to anticipate. Even though his collection was purely for investment purposes, he had developed something of an appreciation for art over the years.
Still, taking everything into consideration, he couldn’t help but ask himself what the hell he was doing here.
Suddenly he laughed out loud—a cutting, self-mocking laugh that turned back on him—because, deep down, he knew exactly what he was doing here. He'd known since the first moment he’d learned Liana would be here.
He was set on a course which he could not alter and from which he could not deviate. And if destruction lay in his path, so be it.
He strolled onto the balcony and surveyed the grounds. A woman with a wheat-colored braid down the center of her back caught his attention. "Wait up. Liana!”
Liana turned to look back toward the house and saw Steve hurrying to catch up with her. She sighed. She supposed she’d been lucky to get this far without someone stopping her.
“Hi,” she said to him when he drew even with her. “Haven’t you heard? You’ve got the day off.” He grinned. “I heard, but I made Clay say it to me twice just to be sure.”
She laughed lightly. “So what are you going to do with your unexpected vacation?”
“I haven’t decided yet.” He glanced down at the toes of his aged tennis shoes, then over her shoulders, and finally looked at her. “Listen, Liana, there’s something I want to tell you.”
“Okay,” she said, wondering at his uneasiness. She had known him for about a year now, and normally, Steve was the epitome of an easygoing, self-confident young man.
“It’s about your accident.”
“What accident?” she asked blankly.
“When you fell down the stairway.”
“Oh. Okay, what about it?”
He planted a hand on one narrow jean-clad hip. “Well, I’ve been thinking about it. At first I thought I must have inadvertently brushed against the light in some way to make it fall, but now I’m not so sure. I think it’s possible that the light could have been rigged to fall.”
Her eyes widened in surprise. “Why would anyone do that?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know, but I checked out the light and one of its legs . . . Well, it just looks possible, that’s all.” He shrugged again. “I felt you needed to be aware that maybe the accident wasn’t an accident after all.”
“That doesn’t make sense. What would anyone gain by causing it to fall? Everyone involved wants this shoot to be a success.”
“That’s true,” he admitted grudgi
ngly.
She lay a hand on his shoulder, “Steve, you need this day off more than I do.”
“Maybe, but do me a favor and be careful. And you might spend some time thinking about who would like to see you hurt. ”
She shook her head. “I don’t have to think. There’s no one.”
“Liana—”
“Steve, I appreciate your concern, but this wonderful place must have your imagination working overtime. I know it does mine.”
He hesitated, then broke into a reluctant grin. “I guess you’re right. Sony, I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t. In fact, it makes me feel good that you were worried about me. But enough’s enough. Go have a good time. Lord knows, Clay will work us hard enough tomorrow. ”
“You’re right about that. Okay then, see you later. Just don’t take any more falls. ”
“I promise.”
Liana watched Steve walk back toward the house, then for some unexplainable reason, she lifted her gaze to a third-floor balcony. Richard stood there, watching her.
Her mind went blank, instinct took over. She turned and ran.
Leonora Deverell. Born 1877. Died 1898.
Liana lightly brushed her fingers over the letters, the only decoration on the small, simple, boxlike house that was Leonora Deverell’s crypt. An oversized, heavy-looking concrete urn stood to the left side of the doors, empty. There should be flowers in it, she thought.
She knew from reading various articles on SwanSea that Leonora Deverell had been Swansea’s first mistress, and she seemed to recall that Leonora had been seventeen when she had married the wealthy, powerful Edward Deverell. A year later, her son, John, had been bom. Then three years later, Leonora, after a sudden, brief illness, had died.
“How sad,” she murmured.
“What’s sad?” Richard asked.
She slowly turned, accepting completely that he was there. Running from him would have been an invitation to a man like Richard, and she’d called herself a fool many times during the past two hours for doing just that. But if she’d learned one thing over the years, it was that once something had happened, it couldn’t be undone.
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