Deceit

by Fayrene Preston

  Richard’s first impulse was to drag the man from the bed and beat the information out of him. But the other man’s obviously weakened condition made that choice impossible; there would be no triumph in winning such a one-sided struggle. Besides, instinct told him winning the mental battle would be the greater victory.

  He chose a chair and sat down. “You and Liana are very close, aren’t you?”

  Jean-Paul bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile. “Very.”

  “Frankly, I expected to find her here.”

  “And if you had found her here, what meaning would you have applied to it?”

  Richard crossed his legs, resting the ankle of one leg over the knee of the other leg. “That is none of your business.”

  “Probably not, but I know the answer all the same. Tell me, Zagan, what has Liana told you about us?”

  “That you and she have never been lovers.”

  “Yet I would be willing to wager that you believe we have been and probably still are.”

  Richard stared impassively at Jean-Paul. He had . viewed this man as an adversary for so long that he couldn’t bring himself to admit what he was saying had been true up until a short time ago.

  Jean-Paul exhaled a long stream of smoke. “I find your attitude truly remarkable. I’ve known Liana slightly longer than you have, and I’ve always found that, though she sometimes keeps things to herself, she never lies. ”

  Richard’s anger grew—not at Savion, but at the circumstances that had made it possible for this man to know more about Liana than he did. He stood and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Are you going to tell me where she is?”

  “Whatever happened between the two of you,” Jean-Paul went on in a calm voice as if Richard hadn’t spoken, “hurt her badly. When she came to me, she was in pieces. I did the only thing I could do. I gave her work. Night and day, using any excuse I could think of, I photographed her. I wore her out so that she could sleep at night. And when she was awake, I worked her so hard, she sometimes forgot to think of you for minutes at a time. The side benefit was that the haunting, mysterious sadness I captured with those pictures intensified her beauty and catapulted both of us to fame.”

  “How lucky for you,” Richard said woodenly.

  “Yes, it was. And for Liana, too. She didn’t have you anymore, but she had success. Ironic, isn’t it? In some strange way, I might actually owe you a debt of gratitude, which is one of the reasons, Zagan, if I knew where she was, I would tell you. Another reason why I would tell you is that I fear she is in some sort of danger and I don’t like the idea of her being out somewhere by herself. It might not be safe, and I’m too damned weak to go looking for her.”

  A confirmation of his own fears didn’t improve Richard’s mood. “There’s no need for you to look. Now that I know she's not here, I’ll find her.” Jean-Paul waited until Richard had almost reached the door before he spoke again. “I put her back together once, Zagan. I don’t want to have to do it again.”

  Richard quietly shut the door after himself.

  The orchestra swung into the upbeat Gershwin tune, “I’ve Got Rhythm,” and some of the richest, most influential people in America began to dance.

  Clay viewed Sara through the lens of his camera and felt a special thrill of satisfaction. Sara had never understood why he loved to photograph her. But he had seen something in her no one else had. An intriguing woman lay beneath the shy child, and in his camera lens, her fresh loveliness would be illuminated for all the world to see.

  The magnificent gold and silver ballroom was beginning to fill. At his instructions, Sara was posed against a pillar, wearing a black velvet gown that might have been fitted on Liana, but looked as if it had been made for Sara. She didn't seem happy, he noted, but once they got started, he would be able to cajole her into the right mood.

  He planned to capture her in her stillness and black gown and frame her with the ball’s color and movement.

  She was going to do for his career what Liana had done for Jean-Paul’s.

  “Clay, do you know where Liana is?”

  Richard Zagan’s voice held a dangerous edge, cutting in on Clay’s euphoric mood. A wary glance over his shoulder told him the man was in a black mood. “As it happens, I don’t. Now if you would excuse us, we’ve got work to do."

  Richard took Clay by the shoulders and forcibly turned him around. “I’ll excuse you after I’ve gotten the answers I want. Isn’t Liana supposed to be modeling tonight?”

  “Yes, but as you can see, she didn’t show up, so we’re having to start without her.”

  Richard glanced at Sara. She looked pretty, he thought, but not as lovely as Liana would in the same dress. He returned his gaze to Clay. “Have you tried to find Liana?”

  Clay felt one comer of his mouth twitch and tried to relax. Nothing could go wrong now. Not when he was so close to achieving his goal. “I don’t understand why you’re upset. It’s obvious what’s happened. After your argument with her in the conservatory earlier, she packed up and left.”

  “She wouldn’t have left, knowing how important these last shots were, at least not without telling someone,” Sara said, speaking up unexpectedly. “She’s too professional.”

  “I agree,” Richard said, “and I repeat my question.” Clay could feel his control slipping and drew a deep breath. “The answer is yes. Steve and Rosalyn insisted on going to look for her. I told them there was nothing to worry about and that I needed them, but—oh, good, there they are now. Steve, I need you to adjust that light—”

  “Did you find her?” Richard asked Steve.

  The younger man shook his head. “We even had a bellhop let us into her room.”

  “Her clothes are still there,” Rosalyn said, “but there was no sign of her.”

  Clay wanted to scream. Why didn’t these people just let It go, for God's sake! Didn’t they understand the importance of what he was doing? “Liana will show up when she’s ready to.” Richard turned on him. “You just said she’d packed up and left.”

  Clay threw up his arms. “How do I know where she is? All I know is I’ve got to get this shoot underway. And if she’s not professional enough to show up, there are others who can replace her.” Richard had never liked Clay, and if he hadn’t felt every moment was important, he would have decked him. He started to leave, but felt something stopping him. He turned back to Clay. “There’s just one more thing. Have you gotten back the analysis of the face powder?”

  “Not yet. I probably should follow up to make sure my friend received it. The mail is so unreliable.” He turned to Sara and Steve. “In the meantime, people, we’ve got to get underway.”

  Ignoring Clay, Steve gazed at Richard. “I’ll help you look for her.”

  “I will too,” Sara said.

  Richard shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ll find her. ”

  Wind whistled through the iron structure of the gazebo, emphasizing its emptiness. Richard slammed his hand against a wrought iron support. Dammit! Where was Liana?

  Anxiously, he stared out at the night. Fortunately, the sky had cleared and he wasn’t having trouble seeing, but the air was cool, and the grass had been damp beneath his feet as he had walked. Was she cold, he wondered. Was she hurt?

  His mind refused to take that next awful step of imagination and wonder if she were dead. She had to be all right.

  Lord, Liana, where are you?

  Outside of her hotel room, they had been so few places together. Where would she go? Or, God forbid, where would someone take her? His jaw tightened at the thought. Confidence aside, he would give himself only a short time to find her, and then he would contact the police.

  He could hear the music being played in the ballroom. “Embraceable You.” He had never noticed before, but it was really a lovely song. If Liana were here, he thought, he would take her in his arms and dance with her. They had never danced, but he knew she would be light, graceful, exquisite to hold. They would dance as long as they bo
th wanted. Then they would make love.

  The afternoon he had found her here, he had taken her down to the cushioned bench, kissed her, touched her. That had been his first indication of how much he had still loved her, only he had been too blind to see it then and too proud to admit that love even if he had seen it.

  Liana had been right this afternoon. He was a fool. If he had acknowledged even a particle of his love, he might have her with him now.

  He remembered the puzzled looks Rosalyn and Steve had given him at the confident way he had said he would find Liana. They might wonder where his certainty came from, he thought grimly, but he knew he had no alternative. He had to find Liana. He couldn’t live the rest of his life without her.

  Chilled to the bone, her head dully aching, Liana sat on the inner steps of the crypt. She hugged herself for comfort and warmth, unable to remember how it felt not to be cold or have her head hurt.

  She also didn’t know how long she had been staring at the long, boxy shape of Leonora’s coffin just a short distance away.

  From the first, she’d been affected by the tragic story of the young Leonora. Her interest hadn’t made sense then, nor did it now, but her heart still went out to the woman. Her happiness had been cut so short, and now there was no one left alive who mourned her. Except her, Liana thought. And now she was sharing her burial place.

  She touched the dried blood caked at her temple. During the long hours she had been there, she had fought against the pain and the cold, but most of all she had fought against the fear. She supposed under the circumstances it would be natural for her to believe that she was fated to die here. Actually, though, this experience had made Liana want happiness all the more.

  The Leonora she had known in Paris had told her that one day she would find true love. Well, she had already found it. She had been foolish enough to let go of that love once, but never again.

  She refused to die there. She had too much living to do yet, too much loving. She formed an image in her mind of Richard and concentrated on it with everything that was in her. He was her heart, her life. He would come for her.

  A long time later, she heard movement outside.

  Just for a moment, she had to fight back the terror that the person who had put her in there had come back. But almost as soon as the terror came, it vanished. Somehow she knew it was Richard.

  “Liana? Are you in there?”

  She scrambled to her feet, almost losing her balance again in her eagerness to get to the doors. “Richard?”

  “Liana? Dear God, you are in there! Are you all right?”

  “Yes, yes, I’m fine.”

  “Hang on, honey, I’ll have you out in just a minute.”

  There was the sound of the concrete urn being pulled away, then the doors were opened, and Richard stepped inside and swept her into his arms. He crushed her to him, trembling with relief and happiness that he was finally holding her again.

  Her skin felt cold, but she was alive and breathing. He felt as if he had just been delivered from a lifetime sentence in hell. He buried his face in her hair and breathed in her scent. He didn’t want to let her go, not now, not ever, but finally, supporting her with his hands on her arms, he pulled back and looked down at her. “Are you really all right?”

  “I think so,” she said, unable to prevent her voice from shaking.

  "What happened? Who put you in here?”

  “I don’t know who. They stunned me by hitting me in the back of the head, then they dragged me in here. I guess water from the rain we had earlier had seeped beneath the doors. When I tried to get up, I slipped down the stairs and hit my head on the floor. I’m not sure how long I was out. What time is it?”

  He glanced at the luminescent dial of his watch. “One-thirty in the morning. Lord, Liana, you’ve been trapped in the crypt all this time?” At her nod, he swung her up into his arms and held her close. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “I can’t think of anything I’d like more,” she murmured. But as he turned with her, she glanced over his shoulder, unable to resist the compulsion to have one more look at the eternal resting place of Leonora Deverell, the place that could so easily have become her own tomb.

  Moonlight illuminated the inside of the crypt with an eerie silver light, enabling her to see that the entire end panel of the coffin had fallen to the ground and opened the interior of the coffin to view.

  Her breath caught in her throat.

  Richard carried Liana clutched closely to his heart and entered SwanSea by the front doors. Because the ball was still going on, he wasn’t surprised to see that the entry hall was empty except for a small staff at the desk tucked discreetly off to the side. But he was surprised to see Jean-Paul and Clay come into the hall through a side door, talking heatedly.

  “Dammit,” Clay was saying, "you gave this assignment to me, now let me do it.”

  Pale, but determined, Jean-Paul towered over Clay. “As soon as you answer some of my questions.”

  “I don’t have time for this. Sara, Rosalyn, and Steve are back in the ballroom waiting for me.”

  “And where is Liana?”

  “How the hell should I know?”

  Richard glanced down at Liana. Her eyes were closed, her dark lashes lay against the almost colorless skin of her cheeks. When he found the person who had done this to her ... He looked back at the two men. “Here she is.” Clay and Jean-Paul both jerked around toward them. Jean-Paul’s expression was of utter relief. Clay’s expression, very briefly, was of anger.

  Jean-Paul rushed toward them. “Mon Dieu, you have found her! Liana, what happened to you? Are you all right?”

  She opened her eyes. “You look awful, Jean-Paul. You should be in bed.”

  “Bah! I have been there all day. I couldn’t stand the wait one more moment, so I came down to see what I could do.”

  Richard’s mouth quirked with faint amusement. “You didn’t trust me to tell you I had found her, did you?” he asked, still keeping an eye on Clay who had slowly crossed the distance to them.

  Jean-Paul’s dark brows rose. “And would you have told me?”

  “Eventually. ” Richard smiled briefly before turning his attention to Clay. “How is your shoot going?”

  “Fine.” Clay cast a disgruntled glance at Jean-Paul. “Or at least it was.”

  “You knew, didn’t you?” Richard’s suddenly quiet voice carried such murderous intent, each word was like a knife thrown.

  Jean-Paul stilled.

  “Knew what?” Clay asked warily.

  “Knew where Liana was—because you put her there, didn’t you?”

  Liana stiffened, and he tightened his arms around her, trying to reassure her. “I’ll take you to your room in just a minute,” he whispered.

  “I had my suspicions,” Jean-Paul said, his expression stricken, “but I didn’t want to accuse without proof.”

  “I’m sure you also didn’t want to believe that your protege could do something like this.”

  “Why?” Liana whispered. “Why, Clay?”

  “I didn’t want to hurt you,” Clay said, his words coming out in a rush, “but I needed for Sara to be the model here. No matter how brilliant my pictures of you would be, Liana, I could never gain fame by photographing you. You would photograph beautifully in the dark, and everyone in the business knows it. But Sara was an unknown—”

  “Did she know what you were doing?” Jean-Paul asked, interrupting, plainly over feeling bad that Clay could have done such a thing. He was angry now, and it showed in the coldness of his black eyes.

  “No. She’s always been reluctant to let me take pictures of her, but I knew she couldn’t refuse if I put her in the position of saving the assignment.”

  “Did you rig the light to fall?”

  “Yes, yes,” he said, his impatient tone implying they were asking all the wrong questions. What was important here was his work. “And I added a caustic ingredient to the powder. I just wanted you out of commission fo
r the rest of the shoot, Liana. I didn’t want to seriously hurt you.”

  Richard was having a hard time keeping the rage he felt under control, and because he was, he spoke softly. “What about the nails and boards on the road?”

  “No. The only other thing I did was tamper with the ladder. I had the second ladder so that Sara would be sure to take the one whose rung I had broken. You couldn’t even tell that I had broken the rung, then glued it back together, could you?” His eyes shone with excitement as he turned back to Jean-Paul. “I want you to see the work I’ve done tonight, Jean-Paul. I think you’ll agree it’s extraordinary. I knew that out of everyone, you would be the one to understand. Nothing is more important to you than your work.”

  “You damned fool.”

  Liana shut her eyes and turned her face into Richard’s chest. He was torn. He wanted to rip Clay limb from limb, but Liana was his first consideration. She had been through more than enough already.

  “I’ll take care of it," Jean-Paul said.

  Even though it seemed Jean-Paul sensed some of what he was feeling, Richard’s old prejudices automatically reared, making him hesitate. But the woman in his arms and the love he had for her forced him to look at Savion without the blinders of his jealousy, and what he saw reassured him. Savion had a toughness, a fortitude, and a gritty type of integrity that transcended the physical strain he was under. Richard finally nodded, accepting that Savion would do whatever was necessary. He loved Liana, too.

  But she was going to be his wife.

  He carried her to the elevator.

  Eleven

  Liana awoke to a sun-filled room, the softness of the four poster bed, and Richard, lying beside her, gazing at her.

  With a gentle smile, she reached out to stroke the stubble of his morning beard. “How long have you been watching me?”

  “Most of the night. I didn’t want anything more to happen to you.” He took her fingers and kissed each tip. “When I think of what you must have gone through ...”