'You think I should knock your new boyfriend down?' Giles enquired blandly.
Stephanie laughed, looking far from amused. 'Darling, how primitive and thrilling—I believe you would!'
'And you're right,' he said through tight lips.
Stephanie ran a hand up and down his arm, feeling his muscles. 'I do love dangerous men!' she cooed, and Leonie's teeth met She did not like Stephanie Ibbotson.
'No,' Stephanie said, sounding reluctant. 'No, don't spoil the party, Giles. I'm sure Andrew is going to be a good boy now, aren't you, Andrew, darling?'
Andrew gave her a faintly uncertain smile. He was not the ultra-sophisticated type and wasn't sure how to take her idea of a joke.
'Oh, come on, Steff! You don't really think I was making a pass at Leonie?' he muttered, darkly flushed. 'Honestly!'
'Well, what's sauce for the goose is certainly allowed to the gander,' Stephanie said with a smouldering look, put her arms around Giles's neck, swayed closer until their bodies touched, and kissed him on the mouth, lingeringly.
His hand automatically came up to grip her waist, and Leonie felt a stab of pain so sharp and fierce that it took her breath away. Shaken, she thought, I'm a fool; he's the last man to fall in love with, and it is crazy to feel this jealousy because he doesn't care a jot for me, he only married me to keep control of his brother's child, his brother's share of the family estate. I must not love him.
But how did you stop? To say 'stop' to love was like trying to float instead of falling after you had jumped out of an aeroplane without a parachute. You might be able to manage that for a little while, but sooner or later gravity triumphed and you plummeted, like Icarus, falling out of a blue sky after flying too high.
'Behave yourself, Steff!' Giles drawled, and Leonie reluctantly looked back to see him holding Stephanie at arm's length, his hands grasping her shoulders.
Stephanie looked at him through half-closed, flirtatious, cat-like eyes, and Leonie watched bleakly, hating her.
'Darling, you're still the sexiest man I know!' the other woman purred, her red mouth curving in feline satisfaction, the cat after it had swallowed the cream.
Andrew had stiffened and was pale. Frowning, he turned away and walked off. Steff looked after him, her mouth quirking.
'Oh, dear, someone is sulking!'
There was a smear of that vivid lipstick on Giles's mouth. Leonie looked at it with distaste. Giles met her eyes, no doubt read her expression, and pushed Stephanie away. Pulling out a handkerchief, he wiped his mouth, but she knew she would not so easily be able to erase the memory of seeing Stephanie in his arms. Oh, she had always known that he had had affairs; Malcolm had laughingly almost boasted about it. He was quite proud of his eider brother's success with women. But now Leonie had seen him with one of his women, and it hurt.
'You had better go after your new plaything if you don't want someone else to grab him,' Giles said to Steff, and Leonie wondered if it hurt him to see her with Andrew, with any other man.
How did he really feel about Steff? Pain twisted inside her like a dagger, and she had to close her lips tightly to stop a cry of agony escaping.
'He's very cute,' Stephanie said with a wry smile. 'See you later, Giles; have fun.'
She ignored Leonie and walked away. Giles gave Leonie a searching stare.
'Still in a bad mood? Well, come and meet some of my friends, and try to be polite, and smile, for heaven's sake!'
She didn't argue—she was too busy fighting with the pain in her chest. Obediently, she followed him, a fixed smile on her pale face, hoping he would not notice her misery.
The test of the party seemed to pass in a strange dream-like fashion; she talked to people without really knowing what she was saying or who they were, sipped champagne, nibbled desultorily at the elegant food from the buffet table, although she did not really want any, and throughout it all felt totally unreal.
Giles introduced her to a string of his friends, and she liked a number of them very much. Some were polite, some warm and friendly, others, though, were neither, and she didn't miss the curiosity in people's faces when they talked to her.
Everyone knew, of course, that she and Giles had got married just weeks before she'd had a baby, and it was obvious that guests at the party were whispering about it in every corner. She was conscious of being watched, edgily aware of scandalised or fascinated stares, of a mixture of disapproval, dislike and envy.
She coped with all that by withdrawing behind a wall; pretending not to care or even be aware of those reactions, just smiled and made small talk without allowing anyone to really reach her. She hoped she was convincing most of them, but knew she had not fooled Giles, who kept giving her a piercing stare, frowning.
She had not fooled Andrew, either, it seemed. 'You don't look happy,' he said some time during the evening.
'Don't I?' She laughed with a tang of bitterness, wishing he were not so sharp-eyed. 'Well, I've had a difficult year, I suppose.'
'I know you have, Leonie,' Andrew said gently. 'It must have been an enormous strain, coping with everything that's happened. I only hope this marriage of yours isn't going to make things worse.'
'Angela talks too much!' she said with a grimace.
He laughed. 'Doesn't she, though? I'm sorry if you mind my knowing.'
He had a sympathetic face, a lovely smile. 'No, I don't really mind,' Leonie said, smiling back. 'And there are good things to balance out the bad; I've got a lovely baby, and I'm healthy—what more can I ask?'
'If there is ever anything I can do…' Andrew offered, and she gave him a grateful look.
'Thank you, you're very kind, Andrew.'
At that moment, Giles came up to them and said curtly, 'We ought to be on our way. Didn't you say you wanted to get back to feed the baby?'
'Is he still on night feeds?' asked Andrew with professional interest, and Leonie smilingly shook her head.
'Mostly he sleeps right through to the six o'clock morning feed, but sometimes he's hungrier than usual, and wakes up during the night. That happens less and less often, though, thank heavens. I can usually count on an unbroken night's sleep.'
'He sounds like the perfect baby,' Andrew said with amusement. 'I must meet this paragon!'
'Next time you're driving down to visit your mother, drop in and see us!' Leonie impulsively invited.
'Are we leaving now or not?' Giles bit out before Andrew could answer that. He caught her arm and began to walk away, pulling her with him without giving her time to say goodnight to Andrew.
He only paused en route for the front door to say a few words to his godfather. 'Wonderful party—we had a great time. Afraid we must leave now, our car will be waiting outside. Thank you for inviting us.'
'Glad you enjoyed yourself, my boy,' Lord Cairnmore said with something like irony. 'I wasn't sure you had.' Giles scowled, and his godfather grinned, then said, 'Leonie, a pleasure to meet you, and I shall be over soon to look at the latest addition to the Kent family.'
She smiled warmly at him. 'I'll look forward to seeing you, Lord Cairnmore.'
'Harry,' he reminded, leaning down to kiss her on the cheek.
'Goodnight, sir,' Giles said in that sharp, curt voice, jerking her away and striding out of the house. The winter night was cold. There was no cloud cover, the stars were fixed and bright overhead, but Leonie had no time to look up and admire them. George was waiting; they got into the car and a moment later were driving back to Warlock House.
She sat staring out of the window. Giles looked at her as if he hated her—and she was crazy about him. Why was life such hell?
CHAPTER NINE
Mrs Kent was in bed by the time they got back to Warlock House, and most of the rooms were dark. Leonie turned at once towards the stairs, saying over her shoulder as she began to climb them, 'I'm tired—I'll check on Mal, and if he's asleep I'll go straight to bed, I think.'
Giles didn't answer; he strode into the sitting-room, where a faint amber li
ght glowed from one of the table lamps. She faintly heard the chink of a decanter, then the sound of something being poured into a glass. Hadn't he had enough to drink at the party? Not that he seemed to be drunk, but she already knew him well enough to realise that he had a hard head and could drink quite a lot without showing it.
Leonie paused outside the nursery door, listening. She had left Susan in charge of baby Malcolm, but there was no sign of her. She slept in a room on the other side of the nursery, but after being up so late the night before Susan was probably fast asleep, and might well have slept through any crying from the baby.
Softly opening the door, Leonie tiptoed in and listened before approaching the swinging cradle in which baby Malcolm slept. She did not put on the light, but she could see quite well by the light from the corridor outside. He was curled round, one tiny hand flung out, palm upward, his face flushed with sleep, his breathing almost silent. Leonie was tempted to bend down and kiss him, but that would wake him, so after a moment she crept out again and closed the door without making a sound. With any luck he might sleep until morning.
In her own room, she kicked off her high heels and yawned, realising only then how sleepy she was, stretched and reached for the zip on the skin-tight black dress. Getting out of it was almost as tough as getting into it! You needed to be something of a contortionist.
She hadn't been able to lock her door because Giles still had the key, but before she got into bed she would put a chair under the handle to make sure the door could mot be opened from the outside. Not that she was afraid of him! She had lived here for some months now, and Giles had never once tried to come into this room.
The zip slid down, she peeled the dress off and carefully hung it up in her wardrobe, then sat down on the edge of her bed to take off her stockings. She was wearing a black silk French basque corselet which pushed up her breasts and pulled in her small waist even further, giving her an hourglass figure. It ended above the thigh with a flurry of richly decorated black lace, very sexy against her white skin.
Her stockings were black, too, very sheer and fine. She didn't get time to take them off. The door opened and Giles walked in while she was sitting there, one knee lifted so that she could unhook her suspenders.
Giles didn't say anything, he just stood there, staring, and her heart beat so heavily that she almost thought she was going to faint.
'Get out of my room!' she whispered.
'So this is what was under that sexy black dress!' he merely said.
'Get out!' she said again, trying to sound angry but afraid she sounded more scared.
'I've been wondering all evening,' was all he said, looming over her in a way that made her even more nervous. 'I'd bet a lot of other men have been, too. I saw them watching you, their eyes popping out of their heads, every damn one of them imagining what was underneath that dress.'
She couldn't shout at him, for fear of waking baby Mai. Very flushed, she muttered furiously, 'That's enough! Go away.'
'Not yet,' he drawled. 'Not before we've had a talk.'
'At this hour?' She didn't know what he was doing in here, why he was tormenting her like this, but she was trying not to look as worried as she felt in case it made him more dangerous. 'It's very late, after all,' she said in a tone she forced to sound polite. 'Whatever you want to say can wait.'
'No, it can't,' he bit out.
'Look,' she snapped back, 'I was getting ready for bed.'
'So I see,' he drawled, and his grey eyes wandered over her barely clothed figure with a mocking insolence that made her want to hit him. How dared he look at her like that?
'And we've got nothing to talk about!' she defiantly threw at him.
'You know that isn't true, Leonie,' Giles murmured, and then to her shock and disbelief he knelt down in front of her.
She looked down at him, her dark blue eyes enormous, their pupils dilated and as black as jet.
'Here I am, at your feet,' Giles said with light mockery, and then, while she was still off balance from that remark, his hand lifted to touch her thigh.
Leonie gave an audible intake of breath, stiffening. 'What do you think you're doing?'
'You can see what I'm doing.' Giles slowly began to undo her suspenders, his fingers cool as they brushed against her skin. A shudder of aroused excitement went through her, although she could have kicked herself for responding like that.
'Stop that!' she whispered to cover how she really felt.
He gave her a glinting look from under his lashes, his mouth wickedly amused, 'You want them off, don't you? Weren't you taking them off when I arrived?' He was peeling one stocking down now, taking his time, and she was beginning to tremble violently.
'But I prefer to do it myself!'
He laughed mockingly. 'Ah, but I'll enjoy doing it far more!'
Her skin burned; she couldn't think of anything to say, and while she was trying to pull herself together Giles was deftly busy.
One stocking was completely off, and he began to remove the other one, his fingertips sending a shudder through her as they touched her inner thigh in intimate contact.
'You have terrific legs,' he said, staring down at them. 'Nice slim ankles, pretty feet, and such smooth skin.'
The other stocking was off, her legs were bare, and he was stroking them, from thigh to calf, sending shivers down her spine. She pulled her foot out of his hand and stood up, not knowing quite how to get him to leave.
He got to his feet, too, and, before she could get away, caught hold of her bate shoulders, forcing her round to face him, their bodies almost touching.
He was still in his evening suit; the grave formality made him look even taller, and was in strange contrast to her own half-naked informality, in the black basque. It was like a scene from some impressionist painting; sensuous, suggestive. Leonie found it disturbing, yet exciting, too, and that bothered her even more.
'Let go of me!' she protested, struggling.
'Not until we've had that talk!'
'We can talk tomorrow.'
'I've waited long enough as it is,' Giles said angrily, his face tightening. 'And tonight I realised I couldn't afford to wait any longer, or it may be too late.'
She looked up at him puzzled, frowning. 'What are you talking about?'
'What do you think I'm talking about, for heaven's sake? This sham of a marriage, Leonie!'
She turned cold, faint, miserably wondering if Giles was about to suggest it was time they separated, time this meaningless marriage was finished.
She swallowed, lifting her chin. 'OK, I'll leave whenever you say the word, and we can be divorced, or the marriage annulled, or whatever you like, but I'm taking Mal with me; I am not leaving him with you!'
'There will be no divorce,' he snarled, scowling. 'No divorce, no annulment—and you aren't going anywhere. You are my wife, and you are staying right here with me.'
She looked up at him blindly, too dazed to take in what he had said. 'But…then…I don't understand. What did you want to say to me?'
He laughed shortly, then his arm went round her, his hand flattened against her bare back, forcing her towards him until their bodies merged.
'Just that! It's time you realised you are my wife, and this is going to be a real marriage.'
As he muttered the words, she felt him unzip her basque, felt it give way and begin to slide down, and she gave a choked gasp.
'Don't!'
Her mind was in turmoil. What was happening? Had she given herself away tonight? Had he guessed she had fallen in love with him? He must have done, or else he would not be doing this, he wouldn't be here now, trying to make love to her!
A bitterness made her close her eyes briefly. He was a ruthless opportunist. How could he? He had suddenly seen how she felt, and was taking advantage of it without caring what that might do to her.
Her certainly wasn't in love with her. She had seen the cold anger in his eyes when he'd looked at bar tonight at that party. It was the same look
she had seen so many times in the past, from the very beginning, when they'd first met, when his brother had brought her home and told his family he was going to marry her.
Giles had looked at her so icily that day that it had been like a slap in the face—and from time to time since then she had seen that look again. Giles hated her. If he made love to her it would be in contempt, to hurt and punish her, and Leoni couldn't bear the idea of letting him touch her in such a mood.
It would destroy her if he did. She would have another bitter memory to add to all the others, the hurts and humiliations he had given her in the past, but this time she would loathe and despise herself, too, for giving in to him and her own stupid feelings to him.
'Don't,' she kept saying more and more angrily, trying to fight him off, trying to get away, but he was stronger, she couldn't stop him. The basque finally fell to the floor and then she was naked in his arms, shaking from head to foot, and in tears.
'I won't…Let go…I hate you,' she groaned.
'That's too bad,' Giles muttered. 'Because I'm not letting you go, Leonie! I've run out of patience!' He bent his head, and wild shock waves hit her as his mouth caressed her bare shoulder. She couldn't get away, but she couldn't bear him to see her face, read her expression, guess what he was doing to her. With a low moan she buried her head against his shirt and stopped fighting, her body quivering under the silken glide of his fingers on her skin, an exploration of her body which sent waves of heat and helpless need crashing through her.
Suddenly, his hand curled around her chin and lifted her head, forced it back until she had to look up, with a sense of shock so violent that it was like an earthquake, into his grey eyes. She had thought she knew him quite well by now, but tonight he was a stranger, his face carved into strange planes, mouth wide and sensuous, eyes glittering, his face taut with desire.
Leonie stared back, transfixed, like a rabbit hypnotised by a snake. Her heart turned over heavily, she caught her breath, shaking. Whether he hated her or not, still, there was no question about it: he wanted her, and the thought made her weaker, her legs almost gave way and she clutched at him to support herself.
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