Rachel Lindsay - Brazillian Affair

by Rachel Lindsay

  "That's the vain hope of all women when they see a happy bachelor!" He leaned towards the chauffeur. "There's a line of traffic ahead. Are they all heading for the reception?" The man nodded and Lucas Paget gave an exclamation. "This looks like being some party!"

  Slowly they inched their way forward and finally swung into a circular courtyard, stopping in front of a large mansion. Lights streamed from every window, and the faint beat of music echoed in the air. As she got out of the car Philippa saw the landscaped gardens; the ornamental lake fringed with fairy- lights and the trees whose leaves showed black against the sky.

  Not pausing to look at his magnificent surroundings, Lucas Paget entered the house, and she followed quickly. These sort of parties meant nothing to him, since most of his social life was spent at similar ones. Yet she guessed he did it more for business reasons than for pleasure.

  Rodriguez greeted them at the door of the salon, a dark-jowled, stocky man with soft-looking brown eyes that belied the brutal strength of his handclasp. "I am glad you were able to get here," he said in heavily accented English. "And this, I take it, is Senhora Paget?"

  "My secretary," Lucas corrected.

  "So?'' There was a look in the brown eyes that made Philippa redden, but nothing further was said and Rodriguez waved his arm behind him. "Please go inside. I will join you later when all my guests have arrived."

  As they moved forward a plump, sallow-faced woman in her late twenties came towards them. "Lucas! How good to see you again. Emmanuel didn't tell me until tonight that you were here." Philippa sensed rather than saw Lucas Paget's surprise.

  "Isabella! I'd no idea you were Senhora Rodriguez. You were still at school when I stayed with your family in Portugal."

  "The years pass quickly." The girl touched a scarlet-tipped hand to her heavy collar of emeralds and diamonds. "Are you married yet?"

  "No."

  There was an undercurrent in his voice that told Philippa the woman's question had been prompted by more than idle curiosity; a feeling which became fact as the girl moved closer to Lucas and said softly:

  "Maya will be interested to know you are still free."

  Colour seeped into his face, though his voice remained "Maya? It's a long time since I saw her. How is she?"

  "Very well. You know she's in Rio?"

  "No!" It was a sharp sound, though when he continued speaking, his voice was normal. "I've never met her husband. You must introduce me."

  "I can't." Isabella's slim hand was taut against her throat. "He died three months ago."

  This time Lucas made no effort to hide his shock. "I'd no idea… I never realised."

  "I think Maya was afraid to get in touch with you."

  "Then we must remedy that at once." Manoel Rodriguez joined the conversation. "If you're an old friend of Maya's it will be good for her to see you again. Where is she, my dear? I'll go and find her."

  "There's no need."

  Isabella looked beyond his shoulder and, following the glance, Philippa saw a tall, black-haired woman gliding towards them. She had seen many beautiful women since living in London, but never one with such animal magnetism. It transcended the obvious beauty of deep blue eyes, full mouth and creamy skin, and gave her a sensuality that not even the high-necked flowing chiffon dress she wore could disguise. Beside her, every other woman looked dull, and every man alive.

  "Lucas!" The woman's voice, soft and sultry, matched her appearance. "I couldn't believe it when I saw you come in." The dark eyes rested on Philippa. "Is this your wife ?"

  "My secretary. I'm not married." He paused. "I was sorry to hear about your husband."

  Maya smiled sadly though her eyes remained bright. "There's no need for me to tell you how I feel about it. But at least I gave Luis some happiness before he died." She put her hand on Lucas's arm. "Let us sit down somewhere and talk."

  Lucas glanced at Philippa and she gave him a cool smile. "Don't worry about me, Mr. Paget. I'll be perfectly all right on my own."

  The couple moved away, and Philippa saw Isabella smile at her husband.

  "It would be wonderful if they came together again."

  "Don't start matchmaking so soon. Maya is still in mourning."

  "If she hadn't had that stupid quarrel with Lucas, she'd never have married Luis."

  Philippa made a move to go, unwilling to hear any more of the conversation, but Isabella saw the gesture and gave an apologetic murmur. "Forgive me talking like this, Miss Smith, but I know Lucas so well that-"

  "I understand, senhora."

  "Tell me, is it true he is completely unattached?"

  "That's what he said," Philippa said stiffly, and was annoyed with herself for sounding so British.

  But her hostess did not appear to notice the tone and sighed happily. "Then he must still be in love with Maya. How romantic!"

  "If you'll excuse me," Philippa said quickly, "I'd like to go outside for some fresh air."

  Determinedly she pushed her way through the crowd to the French windows that led on to a marble terrace. Here, she leaned against the balustrade and drew in deep breaths of air.

  What had come over her that she should feel this aching torment? She knew the answer even as she asked the question. Jealousy. Plain, simple jealousy.

  The sooner she returned to London and the clinical atmosphere of her office, the better. The intimacy of sharing close quarters with her employer had made her start to regard him as a man instead of a business machine. And a business machine was all he was.

  Yet belying this was the look on his face as Isabella Rodriguez had told him Maya was in Brazil. Reluctantly she had to admit that though work occupied first place in his life, it was more than likely that the beautiful Maya, with her seductive body had once come a very close second.

  Behind her the music throbbed and she moved farther away from the windows. At the end of the terrace, steps led down to the garden and she crossed the lawn to a twisting path that wound its way towards another lawn inset with a small pool. Wrought iron chairs with gaily coloured cushions were blanched into monochrome by the moonlight, stood around it, and dropping her handbag on one of them, she moved over to the water and dipped her hand into the surface.

  It was warm to the touch and she took her hand out, longing for the coolness of an English sea. As always, thought of the sea brought back thoughts of Roland, and she starred at her wavering reflection in the water. The ripples stilled into Roland's eyes and mouth. Shakily she drew back, and as she did so a rustle of leaves made her look up.

  In the shadow of a tree opposite, a darker shadow stood. For a moment it remained immobile, then it moved back. As it did so, the leaves parted and moonlight filtered on to silvery fair hair and a pale face. Roland!

  Philippa's hands clenched. It was impossible! Roland was dead; buried in the waters of the deep. The shadow moved again, and this time the gesture was so familiar that she gave a cry of pain.

  "Roland!"

  The shadow hesitated, then stepped forward, spotlighted into three-dimension by the moon.

  "Philippa," it said, and hearing the voice, she knew without doubt that her fiancée had returned from the dead.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Philippa stared at Roland soundlessly. She closed her eyes and opened them again, hoping that the man in front of her would have vanished. But it was not to be; he was as real as before: a tall, fair-haired, dandily dressed man.

  "I knew it would happen sooner or later," he said regretfully, "but you were the last person I thought it would be. What the devil brings you to Rio?"

  "Don't you think I'm the one who should ask that question?"

  The sharpness of her voice appeared to surprise him and he gave her a quick but careful look. "I realise it's a shock for you, darling, but -"

  "Don't call me that! I'm not your darling. I don't think I ever was."

  "Philippa, please - listen to me. Let me explain."

  He caught her hand, and the touch of his fingers, warm and aliv
e, shocked her into silence, making her realise that here, breathing the "same moist air, was the man she had once agreed to marry. "Go on," she said coldly. "You could always tell a good story."

  "This isn't a story - it's fact! Do you think I liked doing what I did? Don't you know that leaving you was the hardest decision of my life?"

  "What about leaving your mother? How do you think she felt when she thought you were dead?"

  In the clear light of the moon she saw the shimmer of sweat on his forehead, and somehow this, more than anything, changed the nightmarish fantasy of his appearance into ugly reality.

  "Go on," she said. "Tell me the story."

  "It was a question of money," he began. "Mother wasn't well off, as you know, but she expected things to go on as they had done when my father was alive, that meant I had, to help her financially. It was impossible to do on what I was getting from Busby, so I-"

  "Started cheating," she finished for him.

  "You know?"

  "Busby came to see your mother and I met him."

  Roland clutched her arm. "You mean mother knows, too ?"

  "No. Mr. Busby was referred to us and Daddy persuaded him not to tell her the truth."

  "Thank heaven for that. My biggest fear was that she'd find out. If it hadn't been for Mother, I'd have stayed and faced what was coming to me."

  "Did you think it was easier for her to believe you were dead? "Remembering the woman's grief, Philippa found it almost impossible to go on. "Don't you know there isn't a mother in the world who wouldn't rather have a living son - no matter what crime he'd committed - than a dead one? It was wicked to do what you did!"

  "Don't say that! If Mother had known I was a thief it would have killed her!"

  "The shock of believing you had drowned, nearly killed her, anyway."

  Roland bit hard on his lip. "I did what I thought was best. Mother never saw me as I was, you know.

  To her I was always the wonder-boy who would make a success of everything. But reality wasn't like that. Things were tough and it was hard to get the breaks I needed."

  "Your mother didn't want you to become a millionaire," Philippa said. "You were the the one who wanted financial success; and because of it you lied and cheated and eventually turned tail and ran!"

  "You don't pull any punches, do you?"

  "Why should I ? You're not a wonder-boy to me. I see you as you are."

  "And that is?"

  "As a coward who ran away. Why didn't you at least confide in me ?"

  "I was frightened. The Philippa I knew was too young to have understood or forgiven me for what I had done."

  He came a step closer and she saw the lines that the years had marked on his skin. If anything, he was more handsome than she had remembered; muscular and stronger.

  "Do you think I haven't regretted all the things I threw away?" he whispered. "The life I could have had with you; the home… the children… My God, don't you know I'd give anything to turn back the clock?"

  "It's too late. If your mother found out the truth now, the shock would kill her."

  With a slow gesture Roland took a cigarette from a gold case and lit it.

  "If that's what you think, then I rely on you to keep my secret."

  "Don't worry, I'd be too ashamed to tell anyone."

  As she saw how clever he had been. If he had pleaded with her to keep his identity secret she might have refused. Instead he had left her no option other than to do as he wanted: tell him that for his mother's sake he must never return home.

  It was strange she should understand so well what was in his mind. If she needed proof that she had changed in the last three years, then she had it now, for the Philippa of old would never have guessed the game he was playing. He had not faked his death in order to protect his mother from discovering the truth about him, but only to protect himself.

  "You really are the bottoms," she said. "I never knew the sort of person you were."

  His chuckle was unexpected. "At least I don't have to pretend with you any longer."

  Revulsion filled her. "Don't you mind me knowing?"

  "No. Why should I? I don't believe it's changed your feeling for me. Our relationship goes back too long."

  "You're crazy if you think that. I loathe you."

  "You wouldn't - not once you started seeing me again. We'd be much closer than before. Honesty would-"

  "Honesty! That's a good word coming from you."

  "I'm talking about honesty between us. I was always worried about telling you the way I really felt." He came a step closer. "You don't know how wonderful it is to see you again. I've longed for the sight of you."

  She backed away from him, wishing she were in the middle of a dream from which she would awaken. "Don't tell me you've been pining for me all these years."

  "I haven't done without female company," he admitted. "I won't lie to you. But none have meant anything to me - not the way you did - the way you still do."

  "Don't," she said shakily. "I can't bear it when you say that. I don't love you any more. I'm not the same girl you left three years ago."

  There was a pause before his shoulders lifted. "So be it, then. But I still want to see you while you're here.Which reminds me, why are you here?" He caught her hand before she could stop him. "No ring, so you're not married."

  "I'm here with my employer, Lucas Paget." Roland lifted his head sharply and she knew the name meant something to him. "Do you know him ?"

  He hesitated "Only by reputation. Is he as tough as they say?"

  "Tough but honest."

  "Unlike me, you mean."

  "Yes."

  He dropped his cigarette and ground out the stub with his heel. "How long are you staying in Rio?"

  "Until the contract has been awarded for building the dam."

  "Callisto's will get it. No one can touch us for price."

  There was something in his words that caught her ear. Us…

  "Do you work for them?" she asked casually.

  "I run the company."

  "You mean you're…" Shock robbed her of speech.

  "So you've heard of me?" He looked pleased. "I kept the same initials, didn't I? Roland Marsh to Roily Masterson. It saved altering my luggage."

  Still Philippa could not find words to cover her anguish. How could Fate have played such a cruel trick on her? It was bad enough to discover how unthinkingly cruel Roland had been to his mother and herself, but that he should also be Lucas Paget's main rival…

  "Your boss is wasting his time here," Roland continued. "The contract is mine."

  "Will you have to fake your death here too?" she asked bitterly.

  "No, my love, I won't. I've played it straight down the line. Rodriguez's a stickler for honesty and I wasn't taking any risks."

  "It's a good thing he doesn't know the truth about you, then!"

  She spoke without thinking and only realised how the words sounded when she saw the horror dawning in his eyes. "Don't worry, I'm not going to blackmail you. I gave you my promise and I'll keep it."

  He let out a shaky breath. "Thanks. I've spent three years building myself a new life and I'd hate ' like hell to have to leave it."

  Unable to bear any more conversation with him, she started walking towards the house.

  He kept pace with her and as they neared the terrace started to hum the tune the orchestra was playing. The sound carried her back to the past and her first memory of him - when he had taught her to join him in a roundelay. Afraid of the sentimentality this might evoke, she quickened her steps.

  "Will you dance with me?" Roland asked suddenly.

  "I must see where Mr. Paget is first."

  "Are you on duty here?" There was mockery in the question. "My secretary finishes at five-thirty!"

  "So do I." She was annoyed to hear herself speak sharply. "But Mr. Paget brought me to the dance and I don't want to -"

  "Do anything of which he might not approve!"

  Her reply was foresta
lled by a dark shadow cutting across them, and she looked up to see Lucas Paget and Maya on the terrace.

  "I've been looking for you, Miss Smith," he called.

  "I went into the garden for some air. Do you want to leave now ?"

  "Yes." He put up his arm to stop her as she started walking past him. "I'm sorry, I haven't made myself clear. What I meant is that I'm leaving with Senhora Lopez. But I've arranged for a car to take you back to the hotel when you're ready to go."

  "That won't be necessary," Roland intervened. "I'll be delighted to take Phi - Miss Smith home for you."

  Before Lucas could reply, Maya joined in. "So you've already met Lucas's secretary? Trust you to single out a pretty girl!"

  Roland grinned and held out his hand to Lucas. "I'm Roily Masterson. I believe we're business rivals."

  Surprise crossed Lucas's face. "I'd heard you were an Englishman."

  "Brazil's my home now."

  "You're been very successful here."

  "And I'm planning for it to continue," Roland replied. "I'm getting that new dam to build."

  "Care to bet on it?"

  "Do stop talking business!" Maya cut in petulantly.

  Lucas looked taken aback; then he smiled at the woman. "Sorry, darling, but you can't have forgotten all my bad habits in a few years!" He turned to Philippa. "Are you sure you'll be all right?"

  She nodded and watched silently as he moved away, trying not to feel dejected at his departure with another woman! one who had obviously meant - and possibly still meant - a great deal to him.

  "So the beautiful Maya has made another conquest," Roland murmured.

  "They knew each other years ago. In Portugal," Philippa informed him.

  "So that's the man."

  "You know about him ?"

  "Everyone who knows Maya knows about Lucas Paget."

  "I didn't realise you knew her that well."

  "I don't. But Rio's a small place - when it comes to socialising - and I've seen her around at parties."

  "What was her husband like ?"

  "Rich and conveniently old! It was a relief to her when he died and left her his fortune."

  "You don't like her, do you ?"

  "She's not my type." His eyes narrowed." But you are. "I've always been partial to blondes - especially ones with apricot gold hair. Come in and dance with me."