Conflict Of Hearts

by Liz Fielding

  Her eyes had darkened to indigo. ‘How long did it take to seduce her, Noah?’ she demanded. ‘Did she fight every inch of the way for her honour before succumbing to the totally irresist—’ her voice caught on a sob ‘—irresistible charms of Noah Jordan?’ Then with a groan of agony she collapsed to her knees, her wrists still held in his vice-like grip.

  He dropped to his knees before her, refusing to let her go. ‘Would it matter?’ he demanded, his face too close to hers, rain dripping from his hair, running down his face, eyes like searchlamps as he scoured her soul for the answer.

  ‘Damn you, Noah. Do you have to have it all?’ And she finally laid her head against his chest and sobbed. ‘You know it matters.’

  For a little while he was content to hold her, crooning softly into her hair, stroking her back. ‘Tell me,’ he insisted finally, when she was quieter. ‘Tell me why it matters.’

  Tell him? What could she tell him? Only the truth. Finally, irrevocably. She lifted her face to his. ‘I love you, Noah Jordan. I want you so much that it’s like a pain that won’t go away.’

  He said nothing for a while. ‘How... how can you possibly love me? After what I’ve done to you?’

  ‘It just happened—’ Another little sob hiccuped through her. ‘Some time between the fights.’

  ‘In Cairo...was that what you were trying to tell me?’

  ‘What else?’

  ‘I thought...that you felt you had to. That I expected it after the silly way I’d behaved that morning...’

  ‘You were teasing. I knew that the moment Mrs Harper knocked on the door. I was planning to avenge myself...’ Some revenge, she thought drily. ‘You never gave me the chance.’

  There was a long silence. ‘And Peter?’ he asked finally.

  Lizzie gave a little shake of her head. ‘Peter and I have known one another a long time. Too long, perhaps. He hurt my pride a little, as I hurt his. But he couldn’t break my heart—because once I’d met you, Noah, I discovered that it had never been his to break.’

  He stared at her as if she were a newly discovered masterpiece. ‘Oh, Lord, what a pair of fools we’ve been.’ He raised his hand and very gently brushed away the tears from her cheeks. ‘Elizabeth, I know we married each other for all the wrong reasons, that I promised you could leave after six months... But is it just possible that you would stay with me for the right ones—to have and to hold, in sickness and health, till death do us part?’

  It was glorious and terrifying all at once, and although she opened her mouth she found she couldn’t speak. ‘Fran?’ she finally whispered.

  ‘Fran is my sister.’

  ‘Your sister?’ He placed a finger lightly on her lips as her eyes widened in shock.

  ‘My half-sister, to be more accurate. My mother’s child. I’ll show you.’ He stood up and, with his arm about her waist, took her across to the portrait that had attracted her attention the first evening that he had brought her to his house. ‘That is my mother.’

  And now she could see—the soft cloud of dark hair, that same ready smile. ‘The likeness is... unmistakable. I can’t think why I didn’t see it before.’ She turned to him. ‘Olivia told me that she left...’

  ‘She was a singer—a coloratura soprano. I saw her perform once. My father took me. A birthday treat. I thought she was a queen. She wasn’t, of course. She wasn’t a star, but with luck and the right breaks she might have made it. I’m afraid that losing her broke my father’s heart, but it was always on the cards. She was so much younger than him.’

  Lizzie turned to him. ‘How much younger?’

  ‘Twenty-five years. Oh, Lizzie,’ he murmured, and her name suddenly had a tender new sound. His lips brushed her hair, her temples, her throat.

  ‘And where have you been sleeping?’ she asked a little desperately as things began to slip out of control.

  ‘Lizzie, Lizzie, you ask so many questions...’ And he cradled her face in his long fingers and kissed her, his mouth a gentle question of his own. A question that at last she was able to answer without reservation.

  ‘Noah,’ she whispered breathlessly a little while later, drawing back slightly.

  He regarded her with eyes that smoked dangerously. ‘What is it? Are you having second thoughts?’

  ‘Second thoughts, third thoughts, fourth thoughts—all of them wonderful,’ she said as she trailed the tip of her finger along his cheek-bone, down the line of his jaw until finally she traced the outline of his fiercely sensual mouth. ‘I just thought that perhaps we should get out of these wet clothes.’

  ‘Pleased to help, ma’am,’ he murmured, but she caught his wrists as he began to undo the buttons of her pyjama top.

  ‘I’d rather like to try the four-poster.’

  ‘And I had the distinct impression that you enjoyed the floor—or perhaps you’re getting a little old for such—?’

  ‘Who’s old?’ she demanded.

  ‘You are. Or had you forgotten it’s your birthday today?’

  ‘Today...?’ She looked at the clock. It was ten minutes past midnight.

  ‘My... Yes, I had!’

  ‘I haven’t.’ He laughed softly and, picking her up, began to carry her up the curving staircase. ‘And I can’t wait to give you a very special present.’

  ‘You still haven’t told me where you’ve been sleeping,’ Lizzie murmured sleepily, a long time later.

  ‘I’ve been sleeping in the basement at the gallery. That’s why I knew the alarm had gone off. They’re linked.’

  ‘The basement?’ That bare, echoing cheerless place. ‘Why?’

  ‘Because I couldn’t sleep alongside you and not make love to you.’

  Lizzie remembered the morning after the wedding, how she had longed for him. ‘I can sympathise with that,’ she said. ‘But there are dozens of rooms here—’

  ‘I’m not made of wood, my love.’

  ‘You could have fooled me.’ She kissed him—just to see what it was like when she did it all by herself.

  ‘That was...nice. Why don’t you try it again?’

  ‘Not so fast. Tell me, what happened to the cynic who didn’t believe in love? I thought you didn’t have a heart?’

  ‘I haven’t got a heart, Lizzie. I’ve given it to you.’ Then he laughed out loud. ‘You look positively smug, you little hussy.’

  ‘Well, a girl likes to know that she’s irresistible.’

  ‘Believe it.’ He moulded a breast in the palm of his hand, bending to taste her warm skin, the sweet, proud bud. Then slowly he drew back, and his hand traced the curve of her abdomen, his brows drawn together in the slightest frown.

  ‘What is it?’ Lizzie demanded.

  He shook his head. ‘I must be getting slow-witted in my old age. When were you going to tell me, or weren’t you going to bother?’

  Lizzie felt a slow flush rise to her cheeks. ‘You said you could always tell... Do you mind?’

  ‘Mind? That you are carrying my child? I think, my love, that I have to be the happiest man alive.’

  ‘I still don’t understand why you were so convinced that Fran was your sister,’ Lizzie said over breakfast a long time later. ‘Did you know that your mother had had another child?’

  ‘No. And I don’t suppose my father would have told me, even if he had known. But she married her American. At least, I assume they were married—I won’t have all the details until Peter gets back. She was touring there when she fell in love with one of the musicians in the orchestra.’

  ‘The Puccini factor?’ she asked gently.

  ‘Maybe. Opera is all passion..

  ‘Olivia told me that they were killed in a hurricane.’

  “Yes. Dad came to school and told me that she was dead. And then at your father’s wedding suddenly there was Fran. It was like a step back into the past. Or being confronted by a ghost. Impossible, and yet just possible. I followed her when she left the marquee, meaning to speak to her, find out who she was. Instead I ran into that grues
ome little scene between the three of you.’

  Lizzie remembered that all too clearly. ‘And she told you that her mother had been a singer.’

  ‘You can see that I had to find out. That’s why I invited them to the opera.’ He looked uncomfortable. ‘And I’d seen Peter’s reaction to you, your shock at the news. It was obvious there was something between the two of you. It was weird. I just wanted to protect her, help her. I felt so... fierce about her. And you appeared to offer some kind of threat. Olivia was very convincing about your lack of scruples—’

  ‘Did Fran know who you were?’

  ‘She hadn’t a clue. Still hasn’t...but I finally told Peter my suspicions.’

  ‘That’s what you wanted to talk to him about at the wedding party,’ Lizzie breathed.

  ‘Yes. I’d flown to New York myself, but I’d had so little time and not nearly enough information. Fran was adopted when...when her parents were killed, and had taken her adoptive parents’ name, so I needed him to check some details—things he could find out without raising her suspicions. I had a letter from him a couple of days ago, with a copy of Fran’s birth certificate. There’s no doubt about it.’

  ‘When are you going to tell her?’

  ‘Not yet. I thought we’d wait until Peter gets back. I think he should be the one to tell her. And I’ll have to tell Olivia. Perhaps we could have a family party here? There are some things of my mother’s that I think she should have... Perhaps even that portrait.’

  ‘Of course.’ She reached across and covered his hand. ‘It will be lovely.’

  He gazed across at her. ‘Quite lovely. And, talking of parties, it’s time you had your birthday present.’

  ‘I thought I’d already had that,’ she said. And she giggled as he took her across to the study.

  ‘I think, sweet hussy, that you might lose count of the birthdays that are in store for you...’ And there was a considerable pause before he lifted a large, rectangular-shaped parcel wrapped in heavy brown paper onto the desk.

  ‘It looks like a painting,’ she said, undoing the string.

  ‘It is a painting.’

  She looked up at him sternly. ‘Now you’ve spoiled the surprise...’ But as she threw back the paper she let out a squeal of delight. ‘Noah, it’s my pig—my lovely, fat pig. But it was auctioned last week for absolutely thousands...’

  ‘Thousands that you immediately donated to the village minibus appeal.’

  She waved that aside as totally unimportant. ‘You were sitting beside me. How on earth did you manage it?’

  He raised his shoulders in a self-deprecating little shrug. ‘I have very speaking eyebrows. Are you pleased?’ he asked, propping himself on the desk.

  ‘Would you like me to show you how pleased?’ she offered, wrapping her arms about his neck.

  There was a small cough from behind them. ‘I think we’d better interrupt before this goes any further.’

  Lizzie swung around. ‘Olivia—Daddy!’

  ‘Happy birthday, darling.’ Her father pressed a small box into her hand. ‘A little present for you.’ He nodded towards the painting on the desk. ‘Where on earth are you going to hang that?’ he asked, looking around at the work of the great modern artists displayed upon the walls.

  ‘In the morning room...’

  ‘At the cottage...’

  Lizzie and Noah declared at the same moment. They glared at one another for a second and then burst out laughing. ‘We’ll find somewhere for it,’ Noah promised, and turned back to Olivia. ‘Will you join us for a celebration this evening?’

  ‘I think we’d be de trop, darling,’ she said.

  ‘And we’re only just recovering from last night. Did you see the awards?’ James asked.

  ‘Awards?’

  James produced a video from his pocket. ‘You might be interested in seeing this, Lizzie.’ He slotted it into the machine in the corner of the room and pressed the start button. They all watched as a distinguished knighted actor read out a list of nominations for actress of the year, one of whom was Olivia.

  The clips began to roll and suddenly there was Olivia in close-up, her knuckles white as she gripped a telephone.

  ‘We’re saved, darling. I’ve got the man in the palm of my hand. Lord, but it took some acting to convince the old fool... but it’s the perfect cover...’ There was a pause while she listened and then Olivia began to laugh softly. ‘I can’t run away from my honeymoon, my darling, much as I’d like to. But after that, well... I’m keeping my London flat so I can see you any time I want. The only fly in the ointment is Daddy’s little girl...she’s so protective... but I’m working on a little plan to deal with her...’

  ‘And the winner is...Olivia Jordan for her thrilling portrayal of—’ James leaned forward and switched it off.

  ‘But they haven’t seen my touching acceptance speech,’ Olivia complained.

  ‘Another time, darling,’ James murmured. His eyes offered Lizzie an apology, and the room became totally silent as three pairs of eyes turned on Olivia.

  ‘What is it? What’s the matter?’ She gave an awkward little laugh. ‘I know what this is. You think I stole my master plan from my latest role... Well, what if I did? I was watching the print sent by the studio and I thought...’ She raised a defiant little chin. ‘What’s so funny?’ she demanded as James and Noah and Lizzie began to laugh. ‘It worked, didn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lizzie gasped, clinging helplessly to Noah, tears of laughter running down her cheeks. ‘In fact, I honestly believe you should have an Oscar.’

  ISBN : 978-1-4592-6974-3

  CONFLICT OF HEARTS

  First North American Publication 1997.

  Copyright © 1996 by Liz Fielding.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher, Harlequin Enterprises Limited, 225 Duncan Mill Road, Don Mills, Ontario, Canada M3B 3K9.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation whatsoever to anyone bearing the same name or names. They are not even distantly inspired by any individual known or unknown to the author, and all incidents are pure invention

  This edition published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

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