Scarlet Lady (7 page)

His eyes narrowed menacingly. Hastily she grabbed the dryer and coldly proceeded to dry her hair, ignoring Leo completely. Turmoil raged through her head. Fury too, because nothing was going as she'd planned. She'd imagined a pleasant chat with a middle-aged man who might be her father. And if he wasn't, then at least she would have had a rest on a beautiful island and some sanity in her life at last.

Instead, she was having to believe that Vincente was some terrible old man. She frowned and, despite her worry, suddenly became aware of a change in the atmosphere. Her spine tingled.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Leo standing with his legs straddled, toffee-dark brows lowered in a thick, temper-driven line and the storm-dark eyes glittering with the intensity of shimmering steel, burning into her neck, while her body acknowledged the feverish chemistry between them by sending flurries of heat across her skin.

It was a sexy, man-will-conquer-woman pose and she was both scared and enthralled by this new ruthlessness of his. Conscious of her nakedness beneath the robe, she slid her long, exposed legs under the dressing table and hurried to finish drying her hair.

Her loins contracted at the very thought of him. Brutally she lifted the brush through her hair, glowering at herself. She couldn't spend eight or nine hours on a plane with him. The more she was near Leo, the more it hurt. The more she wanted him.

Gorgeous. How long has it been cut?' he murmured idly in her ear, suddenly back-shiveringly close. His fingers lifted strands of the silky hair delicately and she gritted her teeth to stop herself from dropping the dryer.

She turned it up to 'high' so that it was louder. 'A few days!' she yelled. You couldn't be sexy if you were shouting. Leo seemed to think otherwise.

'Very sexy,' he purred, his head bending briefly while he inhaled the scent of her hair. 'It's dry,' he drawled, and she thought for a breathless moment that he was going to nibble her small ear. To her disappointment and relief, he didn't. Firmly he unpicked her fingers from the dryer again and hooked it on the wall then rested his hands on her shoulders and smiled thoughtfully at her reflection in the mirror. She felt a shaft of desire brutalising her body with its searing, cutting edge. 'Why cut it?' he asked softly. 'You always resisted before.'

'I'm here incognito,' she answered sullenly, leaning forward to continue applying her make-up with a rather shaky hand. 'I want privacy and peace. That's one of the reasons I'm here. So you can go home and leave me alone. I don't know why you bothered to come. Why should you care if I get mixed up with this man?'

'Because it will reflect on my family,' he said softly, idly stroking the soft towelling robe. She shouldn't have felt anything, but her back stiffened and contracted beneath his touch.

'It
what?'
she exploded, as much as a release for some of her pent-up feelings as in anger.

Leo's mouth thinned. 'St Honore is notorious throughout the West Indies. I understand that his son is as bad, taking on his father's mistresses when they're discarded.'

She groaned. It got worse and worse. 'Do you mean Pascal?'

He nodded. 'So get this absolutely clear: I don't know what you think you're doing with the St Honores, but I won't have you associating with either of them, Virginia!'

'Stop ordering me around!' she snapped. 'I'm not your wife now!'

'No,' he growled. 'But the connection is still there and I refuse to stand by while you bring our name into disrepute—'

'Oh, the Brandon name!' she snapped, sighing extravagantly and adding a yawn for good measure. She picked up a mascara wand and carefully applied the first coat. 'I can't believe what you're saying! Because I was once foolish enough to be married to you, you're asking me to stay away from anyone who might tarnish the reputation of your ridiculously fussy family?' she scathed. Her perfectly shaped eyebrows lifted in astonishment. 'Please! Leave me to manage my life—'

'OK. Have it your own way.' Leo shrugged his big shoulders and started walking away, taking her tension with him. 'The headlines in the papers are full of your disappearance from the jetting scene,' he said, as if it were an afterthought. 'Some talk of kidnap. I'll put them right, of course—tell them where you are and—'

'No! You louse; you wouldn't!' she gasped, leaping to her feet in shock.

'Watch,' he said succinctly. Smugly.

Furious, Ginny flew across to him, grabbing his arm as he reached the top of the steps that led to the external door. 'No, Leo!' she cried urgently. 'I've longed for this time to myself! I'm enjoying being alone! You can't tell the Press!' she half sobbed in angry frustration. 'You don't know how much I need solitude! I want to mingle with ordinary people, to swim and shop, to sunbathe and laze around —Oh, Leo, it's been
years
since I did things like that! And I want to plan the rest of my life'-'

'Do you?' His eyes were veiled, his expression unreadable. But he was hesitating.

Ginny's eyes lingered on his mouth. So close. A sudden urge to kiss him overwhelmed her and her lips parted, glistening moistly with desire. 'Be nice; do as I ask for old times' sake,' she coaxed, her voice husky with restrained emotions.

His mouth granted another, unspoken request as he read her like a book. Gently his lips moved over hers, tasting, nibbling, savouring her. He inhaled and she knew that he was breathing in her scented skin as she was inhaling his. Then he was pushing her back a little, his eyes darkly mocking.

'Still a witch, using your charms as a weapon,' he drawled. 'Cheap trick, Ginny. Delightful, though.' She wriggled away, her eyes dark with anger. He smiled secretively. 'Shall we come to an arrangement?' he asked.

Her brows drew together in a suspicious frown and her heart pitter-pattered against her ribs. 'What for?' she asked warily.

Leo smiled again with a smug satisfaction and traced a line from her chin down to the hollow of her throat, sending her brain into reverse in the process. And her body into full steam ahead. She blinked, trying to clear the wool from where wisdom should have been and stop herself submitting to his seduction.

'Let's see,' he murmured, pretending to consider. 'How about this...? I don't reveal who you are to anyone, you steer clear of St Honore. Then you can have all the solitude and peace you want.'

'Oh.' Her face fell in dismay.

'Not a problem, is it?' he murmured, his finger seemingly fascinated by her collar-bone.

She cleared her throat of the choking lump in it. 'Yes. Leo... I can't steer clear of him.'

'Why?' he asked, a sliver of steel in his eyes.

'There's... there's a very special reason I've come to see him.'

'Which is?' he drawled laconically.

Her huge eyes lifted to his. It would be nice if he understood, she thought. Sharing her hopes and her anxieties with him might help. 'There's a strong possibility he's my father,' she said in a sudden rush.

The trailing finger stilled. She told him then everything she knew. Leo didn't move, but his jaw tightened and his mouth grew harder and grimmer with every second. When she'd finished, she waited, her glistening eyes fixed unblinkingly on his. Which were hostile and frightening.

'I think you're mistaken,' he said stiffly.

'Maybe. But I've got to meet him to find out,' she said with a stubborn set to her mouth. 'He advertised. I read the advert and it mentioned several things about me that virtually no one else could know. I can't just leave this in mid-air. You must understand that. I—I want to find my father very badly. And I must be sure I'm not this man's daughter. There would always be the possibility, Leo. It would be stupid to come so far and not make sure!'

'What if I assure you he couldn't be?'

She blinked in surprise. 'I doubt you could,' she said, puzzled. 'However, if I am convinced he isn't, I'm going to Scotland when I get back. I haven't seen the McKenzies for years and don't really want to, but I have to visit them and question them about my mother and ask them to tell me where I might find her.'

'What for? You haven't bothered till now,' he said with a frown.

'It's not that I couldn't be bothered,' she corrected him quickly. 'I know how she felt about me. I was a nuisance.' Her eyes became pained. 'All I remember is being scrubbed till it hurt. Treated roughly. The smell of disinfectant, and sitting in an uncomfortable, starched dress and not daring to move because the noise made my mother scream. I remember feeling lonely and unloved. Frightened. Hungry. That's why I didn't want to find her. Now I know I've got to face the past if I'm to make a future.'

'Ginny—'

'No, don't try to dissuade me. I know it won't be easy—any of it—but it's something I have to do, Leo. Until I know about my background, I won't feel I'm a whole person. There are things about me I don't understand.' She blushed. Like her deep sexuality. Her head lifted proudly. 'I need to know the whole picture,' she said shakily. 'Good or bad.'

'I see.' There was nothing in his voice to betray his feelings. Not even scorn.

Taking heart, she went on. 'You might find that odd, because my family is unlikely to be anything special. I doubt that I have a long heritage of aristocratic forebears like you. Yet my family will have characteristics which will explain me to myself. And I'll learn something by meeting my mother and her relatives. Can you imagine what it's like, not knowing about your background?'

'No. No, I can't,' he acknowledged.

It seemed to Ginny that the more she tried to convince Leo of her purpose, the more she knew that she wouldn't rest till she had found her family. A small and wistful smile wavered on her soft lips.

'Somewhere there are people with my own blood,' she mused huskily. 'People I belong to, who might—' She stopped herself from saying the word 'love'. It hurt even to think it. 'Who might play a part in my life,' she ended feebly.

A huge breath expanded Leo's chest. 'Then if you must speak to St Honore,' he said softly, 'it's imperative that I am with you, for your own protection.'

Her mouth dropped in dismay. 'No!' she cried sharply.

'I have to stay,' he insisted, his eyes dark and secretive. 'I must make sure St Honore does nothing to harm you. For the Brandons' sake. You must agree.' His mouth quirked in a sensual, sinister triumph. 'Or,' he added throatily, 'I'll carry out my threat to bring the world's press to your doorstep.'

Ginny's eyes hardened at his threat. But something was liquid inside her at the thought of Leo being near her again, protecting her—even though it was to save his awful family's precious name. Somehow she managed to shape her mouth into a grimace and she glided away from him in case she said, Yes, yes! and ruined everything.

She knew what she wanted and why her heart soared at the thought of spending time with Leo. She wanted her husband back. But that was impossible. Leo and she could never be an item again. He'd made that clear. Although Arabella had married that American film star and was off the scene, there might even be someone else special in his life already—she'd seen several shots of him in social columns in newspapers, squiring gorgeous women. With the usual coy headlines:
W
ILL
T
HEY
W
ED
?

To conceal her quiver of horror at the thought, she flung open the doors of the locally carved cedar wardrobe and put her mind to selecting something to wear for her planned trip to Castries, the capital of St Lucia, where she intended to do a little detective work in the library there.

A cotton Klein in all shades of green would do. Soft, understated and cut like a dream to dip in a huge scoop at the neck and cling alluringly where it touched till it reached her hips and flared into gentle swirls.

'Well, Ginny?' Leo murmured menacingly.

'I'd much rather you kept away from me,' she lied with a fair show of distaste. She laid the dress on the bed, wondering why she was so reluctant to save herself from Leo's clutches. 'I'll call Chas to look after me. He's trained to the job.' The smile of triumph she gave him at such a sensible solution was hard and forced.

'Isn't his wife about to give birth?' asked Leo mildly.

Her eyes flickered with irritation. The wretched man knew everything! 'Oh. Yes,' she said, as if she'd forgotten. But a smile lifted the corners of her mouth. She was to be godmother. The smile became wistful. It would be lovely to have a child of her own. A
child,
not an heir. 'That's one of the reasons I didn't ask him to come with me.'

'And the other?'

'Isn't that obvious?' she scathed. 'He'd stand out a mile in these surroundings and everyone would know he's some kind of bodyguard. Fond as I am of him, he does resemble Arnold Schwarzenegger.' She went to search for a pair of comfortable shoes. Green slingback mules. 'I'll dial an escort service in the States,' she muttered, yanking open a drawer and extracting her underwear.

'You'd be recognised in an instant by whoever you chose,' pointed out Leo irritatingly. 'Escorts must read all the gossip pages. You feature on them enough for your escort to make a few thousand dollars by revealing your whereabouts.' When she scowled, an infuriating little smile played about his mouth. 'You know I'm the only man who can fit in this kind of location and look vaguely like your husband—'

'You're
not
my husband,' she said, her voice rising in agitation.

'I'm the only man with the right experience, though,' he drawled. 'I could play the part very well,' he added meaningfully.

Her eyes collided with his—tawny anger and resentment, glittering grey. 'You're not sharing my villa or my bed!' she spat.

'I'd look a funny kind of husband if I didn't,' he pointed out calmly.

Ginny wanted to pull the drawer from the dressing table and throw it at him. To sweep the jars and bottles off the top in a frustrated, helpless temper. But, marshalling all her self-control, she closed the drawer, taking her underwear to the bed. She knew that his eyes were on the flimsy scraps of silk, knew that he was breathing more heavily. And she felt so drained by everything that had happened over the past few years that she wondered if she had enough reserves of emotional energy to stay in charge of the situation.