The Threat of Love

by Charlotte Lamb

  'But everyone seems to know about him,' Gil retorted as they purred through St John's Wood. 'He's hardly a deeply buried secret. First Amy, then the guy you were helping at the bar—was he the one giving the party? Well, he mentioned Damian Shaw to me, too.' He gave her a sideways glance, his mouth twisting. 'They both seemed to think you were still in love with him. Still carrying a torch for him, as Amy put it—are you?'

  'That's my business!' she muttered, staring past the amber street lights to the darker pools of shadow where the park lay. They were almost home, she would soon get away from him and be alone to cope with this tearing pain inside her breast.

  'Partly mine, actually,' Gil coolly said. 'Didn't you know he's one of my lawyers? He's taking part in the discussions with your father—surely he told you?'

  Caro's head swung; she stared at him, grey eyes wide, mouth parted in shock and disbelief.

  'Apparently not,' Gil thought aloud, staring back at her, and another car shot past them, blaring angrily as Gil's car drifted across the road while his attention was on Caro. Gil swore and turned his eyes back on the road ahead. 'I wonder why your father didn't say anything?'

  Caro knew why. Her father was well aware of that old affair and why it had ended. He had played a considerable part in ending it. He had suspected Damian from the start, and when there had been talk of an engagement he had put a private detective on his tail to check up on him, and had discovered the other woman in Damian's life.

  Damian had been having an affair with one of his typists for months. They had met in hotel bedrooms on evenings when he told Caro he was working late; they had gone away together for the weekend and he'd told Caro he had to visit a client abroad and couldn't take her. Caro hadn't at first believed a word of the report her father had grimly showed her. She had pushed it away, shaking her head, white and trembling, but there had been too much irrefutable evidence. Photographs, testimony by hotel staff, photocopies of hotel registers. They had always signed in as a married couple, under a false name, of course. Caro still remembered the way she had felt staring at the girl's face—she'd been nineteen, blonde, very pretty. One look and Caro had known Damian was a liar and a cheat. He had planned to marry her for her money, but he had had no intention of being faithful to her. That was so humiliating that for months afterwards she had wanted to die. It was bad enough that he hadn't ever loved her, that he had wanted to marry her only for her father's money, but it was far more wounding to know that even if he had married her he would have betrayed her with other women all the time; their marriage would have been a complete lie.

  'Doesn't your father approve of Shaw?' asked Oil. 'I suppose he wanted you to marry someone with more money. Did he interfere? Order you to stop seeing him? Is that what happened?'

  'No, it isn't!' she snapped, her loyalty to her father forcing her to answer. 'You don't know my father. He isn't some old-fashioned domestic tyrant. He doesn't judge people by how much money they have, and he has never once ordered me to stop seeing anyone.' 'Amy seemed to think otherwise,' said Gil drily. 'How much did she tell you, for heaven's sake?' Caro muttered, dark red and furious.

  'Something about a private detective...'

  'I'll kill her, I'll really kill her!' She hesitated, breathing thickly, then reluctantly said, 'OK, Dad did pay a private detective to follow Damian, but only because he had suspicions about him and wanted to check him out, and he was proved right. He found out that... Well, anyway, it was all true. I didn't just take Dad's word for it. I faced Damian with the photos and other evidence, and Damian didn't deny any of it. He couldn't.'

  Gil slowed and pulled up under a tree whose drooping branches hung low over the road. 'Another woman?' he asked curtly, and she nodded without looking at him.

  'Oh, he tried to tell me that it hadn't meant anything,' she said with cynicism in her voice. 'He claimed that he'd been "seduced" by this other girl, he put all the blame on her. If you'd seen her picture!' Her mouth writhed and her eyes glittered angrily. 'She was a pretty kid of about nineteen, younger than me! She was probably as innocent as a newborn lamb until she met him. But Damian painted her as some sort of femme fatale—it was all her fault. He said he'd loved me all the time, the other thing had been a passing madness, and he would end the affair at once, if I would forgive him.'

  'But you didn't,' said Gil, his eyes intent on her angry face.

  'I did not. Would you have done?'

  He shook his head, mouth twisting. 'It sounds to me as if you were well out of that relationship!'

  Having started to talk about it, Caro couldn't seem to stop. She said bitterly, 'I listened to him lying and wriggling and blaming the other girl, and I started to hate him. He's a very convincing lawyer, because he's as cunning as a wagonload of monkeys, and I'm sure he does a great job for you, but I wouldn't trust him further than I could throw him.'

  'He still seems to arouse a powerful reaction in you, though,' Gil drawled, watching her closely. 'They say hatred is the flip side of love. Are you sure you're over him?'

  She laughed harshly. 'Absolutely certain! And I don't even hate him now, I just despise him.'

  'Well, let's just see, shall we?' His voice had an odd intonation and she was so puzzled by that that she looked up at him just as he bent towards her, which made it easier for him. His mouth was on hers before she had any idea what he meant to do; the feel of it was hard and warm, deeply intimate, possessive; and a tidal wave of emotion hit her, her lips parted under his, and her head swam. She felt everything cloud inside her mind, she was dizzy and blind with passion, and her hands instinctively reached for his shoulders, clinging to him in case she actually fell.

  When Gil finally lifted his head again, she looked dazedly at him, feeling a deep sense of loss, aching for him to kiss her again. Gil studied her through half-closed lids, his dark eyes gleaming like hidden water. What was he thinking about? She knew so little about him, how his mind worked; he was a mystery to her, even though she had been seeing him every day, lately, for hours at a time.

  When he did speak she was puzzled by the question. 'How old were you when you met Shaw?' he asked in that deep, velvety voice of his, and she was so surprised that she automatically answered.

  'Twenty-one.' It seemed a lifetime ago; how young and stupid she had been! She felt quite sorry for her half-forgotten self.

  'And how many men have there been since?' She hesitated, looking away, breathless, and Gil gave a short laugh. 'From the way you react to me whenever I touch you, I'd guess there have been very few—if there have been any! Shaw left you in a deep-freeze and you've been existing in it ever since, haven't you? I remember how you flew into a temper when I suggested that you'd never been to bed with anyone. Did you sleep with Shaw?' He stared fixedly at her, watching the involuntary flicker of her lids, the deepening heat in her face. 'No, I don't think you had got that far. You were very young and he planned to marry you, not just seduce you. You were business; he had the other girl for his playtime.'

  Caro flinched at the bluntness of that. It was the truth, of course, but her ego still stung at the reminder. Gil noted her expression, his dark eyes narrowed.

  'That bothers you?' he said coldly. 'If you're still jealous over him, it means you haven't stopped caring about the man.'

  'I am not jealous! And I certainly don't care anything about him, I just told you... I despise him.'

  'So it won't bother you to see him again?'

  'What?' She stiffened, her face tight and cold, staring back at him, and Gil watched her with that probing fixity as he said,

  'Well, it is on the cards, isn't it?'

  'What are you talking about?'

  'For a woman with a first-rate brain, you can be very stupid!' Gil snapped. 'Think about it! You've been too busy working on the accounts at Westbrooks to sit in on any of the meetings your father has been having with my grandmother's people, but sooner or later you're likely to be called in to discuss the report you've submitted, and then you're going to come face
to face with Damian Shaw. How are you going to feel then?'

  'I won't feel anything,' she lied, and Gil laughed shortly.

  'Oh, come off it! It's obvious he's still under your skin!'

  That made her even angrier, and she burst out, 'Under my skin? You must be joking! Can't you see how humiliating it was... finding out how I'd been cheated? He made me believe he loved me, but he was laughing at me behind my back. He pretended to think I was pretty, and I let him fool me into believing it, even though my mirror told me I was crazy—and all the time he was sneaking off to see another girl, and she really was pretty! He didn't have to lie to her. She wasn't a rich man's daughter; he was genuinely attracted to her. With me he was just lying. I felt sick when I knew—I can never forget the humiliation, but that isn't because I still care about Damian, it's because he made me face the fact that the only reason a man was showing interest in me was because of my father's money.'

  She stopped speaking, taking an appalled breath, suddenly realising what she was saying, who she was saying it to! She had told Gil Martell what she had never told another living soul, what she had thought she would never be able to confide to anyone—the depth and bitterness of her humiliation over her betrayal by Damian. She looked down, face first crimson then white, biting her lip and wishing she was dead. Why on earth had she let all that spill out of her? And to him, of all people, the last man in the world she wanted to know how much of a fool she had been!

  Tears began trickling down her cheek; she had to choke back a sob trying to force its way out of her.

  'Don't,' Gil said harshly, and then both his arms went round her, pulling her closer; he put a hand on the back of her head, pushing it down on to his chest, and began gently to stroke her hair. She lay against him, trembling, her eyes closed, beginning to calm as the comforting caress of his fingers continued.

  His human warmth soaked into her, permeating her entire body until she was able to relax completely in his arms, giving herself up to a deep contentment. It was a sensation she had never felt with Damian; she had been feverish and unsure whenever she was with him, so perhaps her instincts had warned her, even though she hadn't listened to them. Her instincts now told her to trust Gil, whispered that she was safe with him...

  She started as a strange bleeping noise began somewhere close by—what on earth was that? She thought for a second she was imagining it, hearing things, but then Gil gave an exasperated sigh, his arms dropping away from her. He sat up, and Caro lay back against her seat, reluctantly opening her eyes to watch Gil reach down to produce a phone from between the front seats of the Rolls. Only as the noise stopped did Caro realise that it was the sound of a car phone.

  'Yes?' Gil barked into his receiver, and then his face changed as he listened. 'Oh, hello, Mrs Greybury. Is something wrong?' There was a brief silence, then he exclaimed, 'What?' His brows dragged together, he listened again, his face tightened. 'Oh, did she? Look, tell her I won't be back until tomorrow... Oh, you did?' His long, slim fingers tapped out an angry rhythm on the wheel as he listened again. 'Did she? Won't leave until I get back. I see.' He stared straight ahead, scowling, a dark red in his cheeks, his eyes glittering with temper. 'Right,' he said. 'I'll be back in a few minutes, then.'

  He replaced the phone with a slam that made Caro jump. 'I'm sorry,' he said curtly to her. 'I have to get back to my flat at once.'

  'An unexpected visitor?' Caro swallowed a jealousy which tasted like poison.

  'You were listening?'

  She didn't like the ice in his voice and snapped back, 'I could hardly help overhearing you! I didn't exactly eavesdrop outside the door.'

  'OK, OK,' he muttered. 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean to snarl. My temper snapped.'

  'I noticed,' she said coldly.

  He laughed as the car began to move away. 'Your tongue will get you into trouble one of these days!'

  She watched his long hands manipulate the wheel, feeling weak with desire. Why did he make her feel this way? She had never wanted anything so much in her life before. Oh, why did he have to be involved with another woman? Was every man she ever met going to prefer someone else? Was that her doom? Life was very unfair.

  'It's the Countess, isn't it?' she asked, then wanted to kick herself for such a stupid question. Who else could it be? Trying to hide how much it hurt her, she spoke lightly, mockingly. 'Has she left her husband again? It's getting to be a habit; why doesn't she make up her mind?'

  'She has, it seems,' Gil said. 'My housekeeper says Miranda has moved in, with a mound of luggage. In fact, she has started to unpack.'

  Caro felt sick. 'Congratulations!' she managed, forcing an over-bright smile.

  'Don't be funny,' Gil muttered. 'And stop talking to me. I'm trying desperately to think of a way to get rid of her before Colin arrives, but Miranda isn't easy to talk round. She only sees things from her own point of view. Totally spoilt and totally selfish, and a brain the size of a flea into the bargain—you can't talk sense to a woman like that. She only understands flattery or flirtation, and I'm in no mood to try either.'

  Caro sat upright, tense and still, and watched his hard profile intently. He wasn't talking like a man in love; his voice was impatient, irritated, his face matched his tone. Was this what he really felt, or was he pretending?

  'You must have given her the idea that you would want her...' she began, and Gil groaned, raking a hand through his dark hair.

  'Oh, maybe, a few compliments, a little game of flirtation at a party; women like Miranda expect it, but there was never anything between us, nothing serious, nothing

  that meant anything- ' He broke off, frowning darkly.

  'Except that...'

  'That she took it seriously, even if you didn't?' guessed Caro, her mouth twisting.

  'Women always do,' he said with weary cynicism. 'Their vanity makes them think you're crazy over them. They want it to be the real thing, every time. Love with a capital L. They like it to be forever, not just fun.'

  Caro felt a flare of rage so intense she wanted to hit him. 'You deserve to be landed with the Countess! You talk about her being spoilt and selfish! You could give her lessons.'

  He ignored that, pulling up outside his flat, peering out of the car window. 'No sign of Colin's car yet, anyway. That gives me time to get Miranda out of there— if only I can think of the way to convince her she must go...'

  'I ought to walk away and leave you to it,' Caro bought aloud, hating him. T shouldn't help you get out Of it.'

  Oil turned a hopeful look on her, his dark eyes pleading. 'Have you got an idea how I could get rid of her? Tell me.'

  'I don't think I should.' Caro considered him scornfully. 'You've asked for this. How many other women have you flirted with and then dumped?'

  'I'm not some sort of monster,' he claimed, looking at her coaxingly, all innocence. 'Come on, Caro—you don't want Miranda to gobble me up, do you?'

  'Yes,' she said, almost meaning it. It had made her deeply angry to hear him talk about women's vanity, mocking a woman's need to find love, to know the real thing at last and believe it was forever. A few minutes ago, she had been in his arms, her stupid heart beating like mad because she believed she loved him and that this time it was real, this time it was forever. If Gil ever guessed he would make cynical jokes about her, too; laugh at her, mock her. He must never know how she felt.

  She looked at him with dislike. 'But then even Miranda doesn't deserve you! For her sake, I suppose I'll have to come to the rescue.'

  She didn't wait for him to respond to that. She opened the car door and got out. Gil slid out of the driver's seat, too, but Caro turned and shook her head at him. 'No, you stay here. I'll deal with this alone.'

  He stood on the other side of the car, staring at her, his hair blown by the night breeze, his face uncertain. 'What are you going to say to her? If you're thinking of appealing to her finer feelings, don't. She hasn't got any. Miranda's only feelings are reserved for Miranda, and in this case she is using me
to punish her husband and she doesn't care whether Colin breaks every bone in my body, or whether I beat Colin to a pulp, so long as she can be there to watch it happen.'

  'If I'm to help you, I must have a free hand to tell her what I like,' Caro said remotely, looking away from the sight of that lean, powerful body of his and reminding herself that the mind inside it was by no means as attractive. 'Is that agreed?'

  'OK,' he said after a little silence. 'Tell her what you like, I'll leave it all to you—but for heaven's sake get rid of her as soon as possible, before Colin comes galloping up and tries to kill me.'

  'I would hold his horse while he did it,' Caro promised him, turning to walk towards the front door.

  'Aren't you going to tell me what you're going to say?' Gil asked, and she nodded.

  Over her shoulder she told him, T shall say we're getting married next week.'

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Gil sat staring after her in utter silence, and Caro had the satisfaction of knowing that for once she had caught him off guard; in fact, she had taken his breath away.

  Eyes gleaming with amusement, she put out a hand to ring the bell, but at that instant the door opened. Caro guessed at once that this must be Gil's housekeeper, a small, neat woman in a dark dress, with carefully styled grey hair, who stared at her in an obvious surprise which rapidly became weary disapproval. Caro read that expression without difficulty. Mrs Greybury believed her to be yet another young woman pursuing Gil. How many had there been in the past, for heaven's sake? thought Caro, tightening her mouth. It was high lime that man was taught a lesson.

  'Mr Martell is not at home,' Mrs Greybury said, beginning to close the door.

  Caro put a foot in the door to stop her and at the same time shot a glance over Mrs Greybury's shoulder lo make sure Miranda wasn't lurking somewhere behind her, like a spider waiting for a fly. There was no sign of her, though.

  Keeping her voice low, Caro said, 'Actually, Mr Martell is sitting in his car out there. He drove me here.' She stood aside so that Mrs Greybury could see the Rolls, and the housekeeper stared a little myopically out into the street, started, gave a weak smile, lifted a hand and waved before hurriedly snatching her hand down again, as if afraid she looked silly.