‘You’re my brother—You are, Phil,’ she insisted as he went to protest. ‘Mum and Dad would have wanted us to stick together.’
‘Not after what I did to you. And that bastard Noble!’ he swore savagely. ‘God, he was a vindictive swine! I’ll never forget the way he talked to you, the way he made you appear no better than a—’
‘Yes, Phil,’ she interrupted with a shiver; Phil had voiced the painful memories she had thought of only hours ago. ‘I’ve never forgotten him either.’
‘Handsome devil, wasn’t he?’
Leonie looked startled. She had never thought of the lawyer as being handsome, had only ever had nightmares about the condemnation in his accusing grey eyes, the rest of the man had faded into a haze. But she thought of him now, remembered the black hair, the way even at thirty-five he already had grey wings of colour at his temples. His eyes had been piercing, his nose slightly aquiline, with a thin mouth, the lower lip slightly sensual although kept firmly in check. He was a tall man, who had always worn a pin-striped black suit to court, his linen immaculate, his hands long and tapered, the nails kept short and clean.
He had been a man untainted by crime himself, and had no patience or pity with anyone who was. He believed her to be guilty and so she was, it was as simple as that.
‘Leonie?’ Phil prompted at her continued silence.
She gave a quick, nervous smile. ‘Sorry—bad memories.’
‘I’m not surprised,’ he grimaced. ‘He made mincemeat of you. Still, I’m glad you got off in the end.’
‘We aren’t here to talk about me, Phil,’ she said briskly. ‘I want to know how you are.’
He shrugged. ‘Unemployed.’
She sighed, ‘I didn’t mean that.’
‘I know, love. I’m fine. A little older, a lot wiser.’
‘Really?’ Her look was piercing.
‘Really. Oh, I know it didn’t look that way this morning, but Wanda is a special friend.’
‘You don’t have to explain that to me. It has nothing to do with me.’
‘Yes, it does.’ He fidgeted with the salt-pot in the middle of the table. ‘I was damn rude to you earlier.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ Nothing mattered now except that she and Phil were actually talking to each other again. After this morning she hadn’t thought it was possible.
‘It matters.’ He put the salt-pot down, looking at her across the table. ‘You’re my little sister, Leonie. I wish you didn’t have to see me like this. And you should hate me—I used you.’
‘I don’t hate you.’ She put her hand over his. ‘I never could. Jeremy wasn’t what I thought he was anyway. Although that doesn’t excuse what you did,’ she added hastily.
‘If it’s any consolation, I paid for it, Leonie. It’s no picnic being in jail.’
‘No, I’m sure.’ He didn’t exactly look as if he had been having a good time.
‘How’s your life been?’ He studied her. ‘You’re looking well.’
Looks can be deceptive. Oh, she was attractive enough, her hair was short and wavy, very blonde, her eyes deeply blue and fringed by long dark lashes, her nose small and pert, her mouth wide and generous, her neck long and slender, her figure petite in the brown silky dress, her legs long and shapely, shown to advantage in high-heeled sandals. And yet she wasn’t happy, the wide and generous mouth hardly ever smiled, and there was an unhappy droop to her slender shoulders.
‘What was your husband like?’ Phil asked at her continued silence.
‘Kind,’ she replied without hesitation.
‘And?’
‘And we were very happy together.’ She looked down at her empty coffee cup.
‘You didn’t answer my first question,’ Phil prompted softly. ‘What was he like?’
‘He was—older than me—’
‘How much older?’ her stepbrother cut in, his eyes narrowed.
‘Quite a bit,’ she evaded. ‘He was a widower, very lonely, and—’
‘You kept each other company,’ Phil derided.
‘He was kind,’ Leonie said firmly.
‘But he died.’
‘Yes. We—we had been married about a year and he—he had a terminal disease. But at least he was happy at the end, I made sure of that.’
She hadn’t wanted to become involved with any man, she had shunned them all, but a year after the trial she had met Tom. He had seemed to need her, and in a way she had needed him. He had taught her to live again, had given her a reason for living, and he had loved her very much, despite knowing the truth about her past.
Phil sat back. ‘I wonder what Noble would have made of your marrying a man so much older than you, especially as Tom died only a year later,’ he shook his head.
It wasn’t hard to imagine John Noble’s reaction to that. A man like him would never understand the genuine affection that had prompted her to marry Tom. ‘I can imagine,’ she grimaced. ‘But I wasn’t left a rich woman, so at least he couldn’t throw that in my face.’
‘That man could make a nun look corrupt!’
‘Only because he has a mind like a sewer,’ Leonie snapped.
‘You really hate him, don’t you?’
‘Hate is too mild a word,’ she said vehemently. ‘What I feel for him can’t be put into mere words. And Jeremy was as bad, sitting there with that smug look on his face, letting that man say all those lies about me. And they were lies, Phil. I never—’
‘I know, love,’ he consoled gently. ‘I know you too well ever to believe such things of you. If only I’d known of Lindsay’s arrangement with his wife! I would never have approached him if I’d known. I’d been gambling heavily, I needed money, and a Harley Street doctor, a married one at that, seemed like a godsend to me.’
‘And instead you found he was quite proud of his sexual encounters,’ Leonie remembered bitterly. ‘It certainly hasn’t done his practice much harm. I’ve heard that he’s had to turn new patients away because his book are full—and all of these patients were female,’ she added dryly.
‘Some women!’ Phil scorned. ‘The only one who seems to have really suffered out of this is you, and you were completely innocent of the whole thing.’
‘I wouldn’t call your time in prison getting off lightly.’
‘I deserved it. But it’s taught me something.’
‘What’s that?’ she asked eagerly.
‘Never to get caught again.’ He laughed at her expression. ‘That was a joke, Leonie.’
She gave a wan smile. ‘It’s never seemed particularly funny to me.’
‘Or me,’ he was serious now. ‘I really have learnt my lesson. I’d been playing on the edge of crime for some time before Lindsay stopped me. Going to prison was a very unpleasant experience, and I don’t intend ever going back again.’
‘What will you do about work?’ she asked worriedly. ‘You said you were unemployed.’
‘I’m starting a job on Monday. They got it for me through the prison, so my employers know my background.’ He shrugged. ‘If they’re willing to give me a try then I think I owe it to them to do my best. I’ll be a success, Leonie, you’ll see.’
‘If you need money—’
‘No! No, I have enough.’ He smiled. ‘Just because you’re rich now it doesn’t mean I’m willing to let you help me out. I have to stand on my own two feet, even if I fall over a couple of times.’
‘I’m not rich, Phil,’ she smiled at the description. ‘But if you need help—’
‘I don’t,’ he told her firmly. ‘I’m starting the way I mean to go on, with a clear conscience.’ He grinned suddenly. ‘But I’ll let you buy me lunch if you like.’
‘I like,’ she smiled back.
They relaxed with each other much more over the meal, laughing together as they used to, and Phil made Leonie feel young again, taking her back to the happy childhood they had shared together.
‘When did you start drawing?’ Phil asked as they finished their meal. ‘I remembe
r you were always good at art, but you never mentioned taking it up as a profession.’
‘That was Tom’s idea. He was an art teacher at one of the colleges, and he encouraged me to develop what talent I have.’
‘It seems to have paid off.’
‘Yes.’ Much more successfully than she had ever imagined.
‘What’s Emily Dryer like? God, do you know I can remember reading her books way back in my childhood,’ he said ruefully. ‘I used to like the way the kids in her stories could always get filthy dirty and get away with it. Mum and Dad used to give me a good hiding if I came home like that.’
‘Only because you used to do it all the time,’ Leonie smiled. ‘And Emily is the kindest woman I ever knew. Next to Mum she’s the woman I love the best.’
‘Then she must be nice.’
‘She is,’ she confirmed huskily. ‘A little on the forgetful side now, but absolutely full of energy. She leaves me standing when we go for a walk together, and at the end of the day when I’m ready to collapse she’s still going strong. The woman she used to work with died, and for a while Emily stopped working. But she has too much talent to stop for ever, and so six months ago she took up her pen again. She had two other girls helping her before me, and neither of them worked out, but when we met everything seemed to click into place.’ Leonie shrugged. ‘I’m happy there.’
‘And you’ve put the past behind you?’
She repressed a shiver, the past had never seemed so painful as it had been today. First there had been the fact that Emily’s nephew was a lawyer, and then seeing Phil again after all this time, both had reminded her very strongly of the past, of the nightmares that were never far away. The past could never be forgotten, it could only be accepted, and she was nowhere near accepting it yet.
‘I’m happy,’ she evaded a direct answer. ‘And especially so now I have you back,’ she smiled at him. ‘Can we spend the evening together, or are you going out?’
‘With Wanda, you mean?’ he grimaced. ‘She thought you were another girl-friend this morning. It took some time to convince her you were my sister.’ His face darkened. ‘I could have killed Noble for implying any other sort of relationship between us!’
Leonie had forgotten that, forgotten John Noble’s implication that her relationship with Phil was more than just that of stepbrother and stepsister, the way he had hinted at them being lovers and preying on the affections of a besotted man. God, she thought, that man’s mind was worse than a sewer, it was totally warped.
‘So we can spend the evening together.’ She pushed all thoughts of John Noble to the back of her mind, wishing she could forget about him altogether.
‘And tomorrow too, if you like,’ Phil took his cue from her.
In the end they spent all of the weekend together, and Leonie was glad to discover that Phil’s veneer of toughness was only skin-deep, that underneath he was still her much-loved brother. By the time she drove back to Kent she was a lot more relaxed, and Phil seemed more inclined to seeing her again.
She was surprised to see the plum-coloured Rolls-Royce still in the driveway when she arrived back at Rose Cottage late on Sunday evening. She smiled to herself as she remembered the way she had looked for Emily’s cottage when she had come down for the first meeting, only to discover that the ‘cottage’ was a huge house, albeit surrounded by a veritable orchard of roses. Emily was an eccentric, and if she wanted to call her home Rose Cottage then that was exactly what she could call it.
Leonie let herself into the house with her own key, hearing the murmur of voices in the lounge. She would have to go in and say hello to Emily’s nephew, although after that long drive she wasn’t really in the mood to be sociable.
Emily came out of the lounge, closing the door behind her. She smiled as she saw Leonie. ‘There you are, my dear. I was getting quite worried about you. Did you have a nice time with your brother?’
‘Lovely, thank you, Emily.’ She slipped off her jacket, the navy blue trousers and blouse she had worn for the drive still looking bandbox fresh. ‘Have you had a nice weekend?’
‘Oh yes,’ Emily glowed. ‘I’m just going to make some coffee, would you like some?’
‘Let me do it,’ Leonie instantly offered.
‘Certainly not,’ Emily replied indignantly. ‘I’m perfectly capable of making a pot of coffee. You’re as bad as Giles! I’m not incapable, you know. He says I should slow down, that I work too hard.’
‘Well, you do,’ she agreed gruffly, knowing Emily wasn’t going to like her saying it.
‘I have to work, it’s what I like doing best.’ She sighed. ‘Now I’m not going to let you upset me. Go along into the lounge and introduce yourself to Giles.’ She marched off into the kitchen.
With a shrug Leonie turned to open the lounge door. Emily’s last words had bordered on an order, and it sounded as if her nephew might have upset her once today already. Emily was a dear, but she didn’t like criticism of any kind, especially about the hours she worked. Obviously nephew Giles had touched upon this sensitive subject.
A man rose from the chair beside the fire as Leonie entered the room, a man who left her gasping, a man who was shockingly familiar, a man with the cruellest eyes she had ever seen, and that man was John Noble!
CHAPTER TWO
‘YOU!’ His eyes went black with recognition, his expression one of unsuppressed fury.
Leonie was deathly white, almost a sickly grey. It was like all her nightmares coming true in one terror-stricken minute. The chances of her ever meeting John Noble again had been highly unlikely, and yet here he was in Emily Dryer’s lounge, could in reality only be Emily’s dearly loved nephew Giles.
He looked much older, the wings of grey hair at his temples more pronounced, although at thirty-nine this was only to be expected; his eyes were more flinty than she remembered, his mouth more cruel, his face all strong angles, his body lean in the dark grey trousers and black fitted shirt. He was tall and powerful, and he towered over Leonie like an avenging angel.
He took a step towards her, the savagery in his face increasing as she flinched away from him. He caught hold of her arm, his fingers digging painfully into her flesh. ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded angrily. ‘What are you doing in my aunt’s house?’
Her hope that perhaps there had been some ghastly mistake, that perhaps this wasn’t nephew Giles went crumbled into the dust. Nephew Giles and John Noble were the same man! If she could have said anything at all in that moment it would probably have come out as an hysterical laugh, but her voice seemed locked in her throat, only her eyes able to mirror her fear and shock, her utter terror.
‘Answer me, damn you!’ He shook her hard, uncaring of the bruises he was inflicting through the silkiness of her blouse.
Whether she would finally have been able to speak she never afterwards knew, for at that moment Emily bustled into the room, the tray of coffee in her hands. For all his fury John Noble was still able to move forward and take the tray from his ageing aunt, placing it on the low table that stood in front of the sofa.
‘I wasn’t long, was I?’ Emily chattered as she poured out the three cups of coffee. ‘Have the two of you introduced yourselves?’ She looked up enquiringly.
Leonie swallowed hard, sure that she must look terrible. ‘I—’
‘No,’ John Noble said tautly. ‘No, we haven’t.’ His expression was grim as it raked mercilessly over Leonie’s slender figure.
She twisted her hands nervously together under that insolent appraisal, wishing she could tell what he was thinking, but his thoughts were as enigmatic today as they had been in court four years ago. If anything he looked even more haughty, more arrogant.
‘This is my nephew Giles, Leonora,’ said Emily with a smile, unaware of the waves of antagonism passing between the other two. ‘He’s John really,’ she confided. ‘But as his father was also called John we’ve always called him Giles.’
Except in court! In court he had been John G
. Noble. Well, at least now she knew what the G. stood for! This man, this hateful, sarcastically cruel man, was Emily’s beloved nephew. Either Emily was unaware of the harshness in him or else she knew of it and excused it. Knowing Emily it would be the latter, she always had sympathy and understanding for the unpleasant quirks in people’s natures.
‘And this is Leonora,’ she announced proudly.
‘Leonora…?’ Giles Noble raised an enquiring eyebrow.
‘Carter,’ Leonie supplied in a stilted voice.
His piercing gaze went to the simple gold band that encircled her wedding finger. ‘Ah yes,’ he drawled. ‘You’re a widow.’
‘Leonora lost her husband two years ago,’ his aunt supplied. ‘Such a shame for one so young.’
‘Yes.’ Giles took the proffered cup of coffee. ‘When you spoke of your widowed friend Leonora, Aunt, I naturally assumed her to be a—lady of your own age.’
‘Did you, dear?’ Emily said vaguely. ‘But I’m sure I mentioned how young and pretty she is.’
‘No, you never did.’ Giles Noble’s mouth twisted, his gaze rapier-sharp as it raked over every inch of Leonie’s body.
He was doing it again, but now he was stripping her not only of her pride but of her clothes too. She had never seen that insultingly familiar look in any man’s eyes before, never felt such degradation at a man’s glance. Her humiliation was complete as with a contemptuous twist of his lips he turned away.
‘Oh well, it doesn’t matter,’ his aunt smiled brightly. ‘I’m sure the two of you will be good friends.’
Leonie almost choked over her coffee at the unlikelihood of that happening. Her hand shook as she returned the cup to its saucer, her fear a tangible thing. This man was her tormenter, the evoker of all her night-time fears, and yet she could feel his magnetism as strongly as she had in the courtroom, knew that once again he was swallowing her up, absorbing her personality, reducing her to the naïve child she had still been four years ago when she first met him.
Giles Noble looked at her again. ‘My aunt tells me you’ve been to see your brother this weekend. I believe he has been—away?’ his voice taunted her.
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