Scarlet Lady

by Sara Wood

  'What for? You haven't bothered till now,' he said with a frown.

  'It's not that I couldn't be bothered,' she corrected him quickly. 'I know how she felt about me. I was a nuisance.' Her eyes became pained. 'All I remember is being scrubbed till it hurt. Treated roughly. The smell of disinfectant, and sitting in an uncomfortable, starched dress and not daring to move because the noise made my mother scream. I remember feeling lonely and unloved. Frightened. Hungry. That's why I didn't want to find her. Now I know I've got to face the past if I'm to make a future.'

  'Ginny—'

  'No, don't try to dissuade me. I know it won't be easy—any of it—but it's something I have to do, Leo. Until I know about my background, I won't feel I'm a whole person. There are things about me I don't understand.' She blushed. Like her deep sexuality. Her head lifted proudly. 'I need to know the whole picture,' she said shakily. 'Good or bad.'

  'I see.' There was nothing in his voice to betray his feelings. Not even scorn.

  Taking heart, she went on. 'You might find that odd, because my family is unlikely to be anything special. I doubt that I have a long heritage of aristocratic forebears like you. Yet my family will have characteristics which will explain me to myself. And I'll learn something by meeting my mother and her relatives. Can you imagine what it's like, not knowing about your background?'

  'No. No, I can't,' he acknowledged.

  It seemed to Ginny that the more she tried to convince Leo of her purpose, the more she knew that she wouldn't rest till she had found her family. A small and wistful smile wavered on her soft lips.

  'Somewhere there are people with my own blood,' she mused huskily. 'People I belong to, who might—' She stopped herself from saying the word 'love'. It hurt even to think it. 'Who might play a part in my life,' she ended feebly.

  A huge breath expanded Leo's chest. 'Then if you must speak to St Honore,' he said softly, 'it's imperative that I am with you, for your own protection.'

  Her mouth dropped in dismay. 'No!' she cried sharply.

  'I have to stay,' he insisted, his eyes dark and secretive. 'I must make sure St Honore does nothing to harm you. For the Brandons' sake. You must agree.' His mouth quirked in a sensual, sinister triumph. 'Or,' he added throatily, 'I'll carry out my threat to bring the world's press to your doorstep.'

  Ginny's eyes hardened at his threat. But something was liquid inside her at the thought of Leo being near her again, protecting her—even though it was to save his awful family's precious name. Somehow she managed to shape her mouth into a grimace and she glided away from him in case she said, Yes, yes! and ruined everything.

  She knew what she wanted and why her heart soared at the thought of spending time with Leo. She wanted her husband back. But that was impossible. Leo and she could never be an item again. He'd made that clear. Although Arabella had married that American film star and was off the scene, there might even be someone else special in his life already—she'd seen several shots of him in social columns in newspapers, squiring gorgeous women. With the usual coy headlines: WILL THEY WED?

  To conceal her quiver of horror at the thought, she flung open the doors of the locally carved cedar wardrobe and put her mind to selecting something to wear for her planned trip to Castries, the capital of St Lucia, where she intended to do a little detective work in the library there.

  A cotton Klein in all shades of green would do. Soft, understated and cut like a dream to dip in a huge scoop at the neck and cling alluringly where it touched till it reached her hips and flared into gentle swirls.

  'Well, Ginny?' Leo murmured menacingly.

  'I'd much rather you kept away from me,' she lied with a fair show of distaste. She laid the dress on the bed, wondering why she was so reluctant to save herself from Leo's clutches. 'I'll call Chas to look after me. He's trained to the job.' The smile of triumph she gave him at such a sensible solution was hard and forced.

  'Isn't his wife about to give birth?' asked Leo mildly.

  Her eyes flickered with irritation. The wretched man knew everything! 'Oh. Yes,' she said, as if she'd forgotten. But a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. She was to be godmother. The smile became wistful. It would be lovely to have a child of her own. A child, not an heir. 'That's one of the reasons I didn't ask him to come with me.'

  'And the other?'

  'Isn't that obvious?' she scathed. 'He'd stand out a mile in these surroundings and everyone would know he's some kind of bodyguard. Fond as I am of him, he does resemble Arnold Schwarzenegger.' She went to search for a pair of comfortable shoes. Green slingback mules. 'I'll dial an escort service in the States,' she muttered, yanking open a drawer and extracting her underwear.

  'You'd be recognised in an instant by whoever you chose,' pointed out Leo irritatingly. 'Escorts must read all the gossip pages. You feature on them enough for your escort to make a few thousand dollars by revealing your whereabouts.' When she scowled, an infuriating little smile played about his mouth. 'You know I'm the only man who can fit in this kind of location and look vaguely like your husband—'

  'You're not my husband,' she said, her voice rising in agitation.

  'I'm the only man with the right experience, though,' he drawled. 'I could play the part very well,' he added meaningfully.

  Her eyes collided with his—tawny anger and resentment, glittering grey. 'You're not sharing my villa or my bed!' she spat.

  'I'd look a funny kind of husband if I didn't,' he pointed out calmly.

  Ginny wanted to pull the drawer from the dressing table and throw it at him. To sweep the jars and bottles off the top in a frustrated, helpless temper. But, marshalling all her self-control, she closed the drawer, taking her underwear to the bed. She knew that his eyes were on the flimsy scraps of silk, knew that he was breathing more heavily. And she felt so drained by everything that had happened over the past few years that she wondered if she had enough reserves of emotional energy to stay in charge of the situation.

  Logically it was simple. All she had to do was to pretend to Leo that he meant absolutely nothing to her. His masculine pride, that hateful arrogance would be his downfall. He imagined that the minute they were thrown together she'd fall into his arms, that he'd be able to defend his family's honour and satisfy his sex drive at the same time. A double whammy.

  Well, he was wrong. Once she'd been burnt. Now she meant to stay away from the fire. The blisters hadn't healed and if she got close again they'd hurt her more than before. Though she had to admit that her resolve became shaky whenever he came close, whenever he turned those smouldering smoke-grey eyes on her and spoke to her in his seductive voice. All he had to do was to say he loved her and she'd fall into his arms. If he ever knew that, she'd be leaping into the flames without a second thought.

  Proudly she faced him. Cold, aloof, uninterested. Inwardly she was shaking like a leaf. If he stayed, she'd have to be constantly on her guard. The holiday she'd planned would be ruined till he'd gone and she could behave normally again. They'd be together till she found Vincente St Honore. Could she face that?

  The air between them crackled with an electric charge as she met the full force of his grey, velvety eyes. Her legs were weakening and she sat down quickly on the bed before he noticed. She didn't know what to do. AH she could feel was a thrill mounting in intensity as she teetered on the edge of danger.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  GINNY took a deep breath. She had to jump into the fire one way or the other. If she made every effort to find Vincente, she'd be rid of Leo quickly and then she'd be out of danger.

  Something deliciously wicked lurched in her stomach at the thought of spending time with Leo. Still lovesick! She'd got it bad, she mused ruefully.

  'The whole idea of your staying here fills me with horror,' she said with icy disdain—and perhaps a smattering of truth. For this new, contemptuous Leo to see her grovel, to see deep inside her and realise that she was obsessed by him would be humiliating in the extreme.

  She lifted a pale
, proud face to his. 'But since you're obviously set on defending your family honour—and willing to resort to malicious methods to do so—I have to agree. You don't leave me much choice. But I don't like your blackmail and I don't like your reasons. It'll be unpleasant having you around. I'd been looking forward to a relaxing time here.' She tossed her head and a swirl of white-blonde hair shone like shot silk in the sunlight streaming into the room. 'You'll ruin my stay!' she said resentfully. 'And, while we're about it, let's establish some ground rules for your behaviour.'

  'Such as?' he murmured smoothly.

  'Such as don't get any ideas about intimacy!' she said grimly. 'No sex! Understand?'

  'Intimacy? With you?' He wrinkled his aristocratic nose. 'My dear Ginny, I daren't risk it. I don't know where you've been.'

  As she dropped her jaw in amazement, he gave her a mocking smile.

  'I know who you've been with, though. The papers have carried rather a lot of photographs of you with different escorts,' he purred, but there was an undercurrent of anger in his voice. 'Rakes and roues to a man. Don't insult my intelligence by pretending you haven't partied the last two years away—and don't insult your own beauty by pretending those men went out with you in order to chat about the state of the economy.'

  The shutters came down over her eyes. Those parties had filled her time and the emptiness left by knowing that Leo had gone. They'd given her a false sense of fun. One thing she hadn't been able to cope with had been the silence of her own company. Whenever she'd been alone she'd had to face her unhappiness. Partying and dating had kept her from confronting that demon too often and had helped to stop her from cracking up.

  The men she'd dated she had done so on the understanding that they took her home and left her unmolested. They hadn't refused because they'd been keen to have the publicity. She smiled wryly.

  'I've partied a little,' she said in an offhand manner.

  His mouth thinned in disdain. 'A lot!'

  Ginny frowned. 'How do you know?'

  'Contacts,' he said tersely.

  'Spies,' she suggested, her expression frosty.

  Leo looked haughty. 'I'm relieved that this is only a temporary arrangement and I can get back to people who have deeper values than you,' he muttered. 'I'd better get my bags moved in. Where's the phone?'

  'There isn't one. No TV, radio or piped Muzak. This is solitude, Leo, an inaccessible hideaway.'

  'Suits me. No sex, no TV. What will you do of an evening?' he asked insultingly.

  'I hope most of the time I'll be talking to my father over a Planter's Punch,' she said shortly.

  He made a face. 'I can't say I hope your wishes will come true. St Honore has too vile a reputation to be anyone's father. He isn't yours, that's for sure.'

  'How could you possibly know?' she asked, shaken by his conviction.

  He frowned at the floor and she felt certain that he had a good reason to be so confident. Her palms sweated and she rubbed them on her robe as she remembered her earlier suspicion that he wasn't telling her everything her knew.

  'Intuition,' he said, dissembling. 'It doesn't seem credible that your mother was married to him. Father told me that Vincente's wife was some society woman. She came from Britain, but she wasn't as poor as a church mouse. She... had money in her own right. I know your mother didn't have a penny. You told me. And the McKenzies told you that she had nobody to support her. It doesn't tie up with what we know of Vincente's wife. She fled from St Lucia and arrived back in England in some distress.'

  'So-?' she challenged, puzzled.

  'We look after our own, Ginny,' he explained. 'Vicente's wife would have been cared for. Your mother was on her own. For us there's an old-school network, a closing of ranks and a protection of one another. Even if Mrs St Honore's family disowned her—though I see no reason why they should—someone who'd known her in the social circuit would have taken her in, even as a governess or a companion.'

  'I suppose you can't have members of ancient dynasties dying before their time,' she said, feeling waspish about the British aristocracy.

  'Don't knock it,' he retorted curtly. 'It's a generous tradition and we're not the only community to practise it. Wouldn't Chas's wife be taken in by family, friends or neighbours if something happened to him?'

  'Yes,' she admitted reluctantly, thinking that the same wouldn't be true of the people in her line of business. Everyone lived for money and fame. There was no time for consoling those who'd fallen by the wayside. 'I suppose so—'

  'You do hate to admit you're in the wrong!' he said drily. 'Our community might be more scattered than Chas's, but it is intensely loyal. That's why we spend country weekends together. And why we meet regularly on social occasions. It renews our bonds of friendship and keeps them going.'

  'I remember,' muttered Ginny. Ascot. Gstaad. Polo at Cowdray Park. Ghastly weekends with nothing to say to anyone because she didn't know anything about fishing or hunting or shooting. Or the million ties that bound Leo's set. Horrible. She'd always felt like an exotic butterfly in a cage.

  'I accept that there's an instinct of group-preservation in what we do,' Leo mused. 'I find that laudable. Our families have a long history, Ginny. Only by cleaving together do we protect that history.'

  'Often at the expense of love,' she said quietly.

  Leo's eyes narrowed. 'It's easier if people from the same social group marry one another,' he said with chilling detachment. 'They know what to expect.'

  'I never fitted in,' she agreed levelly. 'Nor did I want to, to be honest. Some of the hallowed traditions are archaic! And you were so determined to be well- mannered that you didn't object when, for instance, we women were hustled out after dinners so you men could indulge in men's talk!'

  'I was brought up never to offend my host,' he said quietly. 'Should I have ruined everyone's evening and insisted you stayed?'

  'No,' she said hopelessly. 'It's the tradition itself that I can't stomach.'

  'Amber understands. She doesn't rail at the way other people live their lives,' he said in reproach.

  Ginny thought of Leo's father's red-headed goddaughter and sighed. 'Amber and I are poles apart,' she said wryly. 'She's mad about Castlestowe, for a start. Her idea of heaven is walking on the moors when it's raining. I can't be like her! I know you and she were virtually brought up together and you probably compare her with me constantly, but you shouldn't expect me to fit into your life the way she does! She was born to it. I wasn't.'

  'Ginny,' he said softly, 'it's over.' A spasm ran through her body, visible and mortifying. 'So,' he said with a brutal cheerfulness, 'you hate the British upper class but you're hoping to become part of island society! Very contrary, Ginny! Don't you see how unlikely it is that you're Vincente's daughter? I don't know why you don't admit that and forget him.'

  Absently, she picked up her undies, sifting the silk through her fingers. His comments had worried her. All she wanted was a house somewhere quiet and private, with Leo, children and good friends. Close friends, not hordes of hangers-on or people she couldn't relate to. The thought of joining a society family was filling her with horror.

  'I need to be sure,' she sighed. She looked up. 'We'll find Vincente fast,' she said anxiously, eager to get it over and done with. And, since she wasn't going to be playing happy homes with Leo, it would help if he was off the scene fast too. 'Then we can be shot of each other,' she added shakily.

  'Suits me,' he muttered, and she gritted her teeth to stop herself wincing at his eagerness to leave.

  'Whatever happens here, I'll start searching for my mother soon,' she said, her face wistful.

  'Do you really think that's a good idea? I'd go with your earlier gut feelings to leave her strictly alone if I were you,' he said quickly, beetling his thick brows together.

  'No,' she retorted firmly. 'I'm sorting everything out. I need to know things.'

  Leo seemed about to tell her something and then thought better of it, drawing up a chair and sitting in fron
t of her. 'I know you're not in the mood to listen to a lecture so I'll say this,' he began gravely. She made to move away and he took her hands in his to stay her. 'Please. Pay attention for your mother's sake,' he ordered. His eyes bored into hers, mesmerising her. 'If you ever do find her, I want you to promise me that you'll spend more time with her than you did with me.'

  Ginny lowered her eyes guiltily. There had always been reasons for her hectic life. 'I know what you're implying,' she muttered. 'In your eyes I was a bad wife and I'd have been an even worse daughter. But I had something to prove to myself —'

  'You wanted people to like you,' he said bluntly.

  She thought about that. 'I think you're right. It was a novelty,' she admitted slowly, and heaved a heavy sigh. At first the adulation had done wonders for her self- esteem. Lately... Her head lifted. It meant nothing any more. She'd lost what she'd wanted: Leo. 'We all like to be special,' she said in a low voice. 'It was evident that my mother and my adoptive parents didn't like me much—'

  'I did. I liked you,' he said quietly, his thumb massaging the pronounced ball of her thumb. 'Wasn't that enough?'

  Ginny tried to focus on something other than the effect of his rhythmical caress which was causing such havoc in her body. Deliberately she concentrated on a cooing Zenaida dove picking up crumbs from the deck where she'd had breakfast. The tantalising sensation trickling through her veins mercifully receded a little.

  He'd said 'liked'. Not love. And he'd used the past tense.

  'You met me when I was already on my way to being really famous,' she said stiffly. 'I never knew what I was to you because of that. I'd worked for years to be regarded as a beautiful woman instead of a gangling beanpole,' she went on, her mouth wry. 'And when I finally made it I didn't know if men wanted me for myself or because I was good to look at and having me on their arm did things for their ego. It was like being at school again, frying to avoid the bullying by handing out sweets and never feeling too sure why the crowd formed around me.'