Authors: Sara Craven
It was a glamorous room, rather too much so for Kate's taste. All the elaborate fitted furniture was white trimmed with gilt, and the huge bed was draped in gold silk with an enormous matching swathed canopy.
A number of dresses had been hung on the front of one of the wardrobes, and Kate examined them. They were expensive and well made, but they had been chosen for Leanne's size, and Leanne's colouring, and the styles were over-elaborate.
Kate sighed soundlessly as she went through them. She supposed it shouldn't matter, but she loathed the idea of having to appear at dinner dressed in Leanne's hand-me-downs. Dejectedly, she picked out the simplest, a floating affair in pale green crepe-de-chine with a silver belt which could, she hoped, be cinched in tightly to give the illusion of a fit.
But there was worse to come. On the bed Kate found undies, brand-new and still in their original wrappings. She looked at them with dismay. She had never thought her own underwear dowdy, but these bordered on the exotic. There was even a nightdress, black and sheer, slashed provocatively from waist to hem at each side.
She heard a sound behind her and turned. Matt was standing in the bathroom doorway, watching her. He wore a towel draped round his hips and nothing else, apparently.
Kate swallowed, dropping the scraps of silk and lace she was holding as if they had burst into flames.
'Oh—hello.' She tried to sound casual, but embarrassment won.
'Welcome to our mutual cell,' he said coldly. 'Before you start pushing the panic button, allow me to point out that other door. It leads to a small dressing room, which also contains a small bed. I shall be using that.'
Kate bit her lip. 'I see.'
'That,' said Matt, 'is a debatable point.'
He moved towards the door he had indicated, and she said, 'Matt-' quickly before her courage deserted her.
The face he turned to her was not encouraging. 'Well?'
She said huskily, 'I just want you to know that—that I'm sorry for what I said earlier.'
'Are you?' His shrug professed pure indifference. 'It really doesn't matter. And I probably should apologise to you. This trip has been an unmitigated bloody disaster from beginning to end, and I should never have brought you.' He gave a short laugh. That should teach me to give way to dangerous and stupid impulses!'
Kate winced inwardly. She said, 'But has it really been so disastrous? You've achieved what you wanted. You're here in this house.'
He gave her a cold, ironic look. 'And you think that's all there is to it?'
She frowned. 'You mean that you still won't get your interview? That perhaps we'll go down to dinner and find we're the only ones here?'
'I don't think the Señor Presidente will go to those extremes, just yet,' said Matt. 'I think he's too intrigued with the situation to run out on us. But of course I could be wrong.' He lifted one shoulder in a shrug. I seem to be making a habit of it lately.' He moved to one of the wardrobes and collected a handful of the clothing it contained. 'I'll move these things into the dressing room. It has its own door to the gallery, so I shouldn't need to disturb you again.' He sent her a brief, wintry glance, and went into the room he had indicated, shutting the door behind him with unnecessary firmness.
Kate sank down on the bed, a trembling sigh escaping her lips. There was no need to have closed the door. The barrier was there already, and more impenetrable than any conventional wooden panels.
But wasn't that what she wanted? she asked herself dejectedly. She needed to keep Matt at a distance if she was to retain some semblance of pride or self-respect. Only a matter of hours ago, she had been willing to give him everything—her body, her soul and her heart—and he had walked away.
A casual encounter with someone as sophisticated and experienced as himself he might have welcomed. But he didn't want any semblance of involvement. And he certainly didn't need love.
She showered, applied the modicum of moisturiser and lip-colour she had in her bag, then reluctantly got into the green dress. Belted as tightly as it would go, it wasn't too bad, she supposed, surveying herself dejectedly, even though the wide scooped neckline slid off first one shoulder and then the other, making it impossible for her to wear a bra.
She smoothed the soft fluid lines of the material over her slim hips, twisting slightly to see how low the neckline dipped at the back.
The knock on the door was a surprise. She had heard Matt leave his room some time before, but perhaps he had relented and come back for her, she thought hopefully.
She opened the door and came face to face with Leanne.
Resplendent in a tight-fitting dress in a deep shade of cerise, the other woman was smiling.
She said, 'I came to see that you have everything you need. May I come in?'
'Of course.' Kate stood aside rather awkwardly. 'You—you've been very kind.'
Leanne shrugged gracefully. 'It is only for one evening, after all. My husband is arranging for your luggage to be brought here from the Paradis.'
'He is?' Kate bit her lip. Then it seems that he really does expect us to stay?'
'Did you doubt it?' Leanne rummaged in her bag, producing cigarettes and a lighter. 'You smoke? No?' She lit her own, inhaling deeply. 'You do not seem very happy at the prospect of staying in this house? Yet you accompanied Matthew of your own will. You knew what the risk might be.' The dark eyes glittered slightly. 'Or did you imagine he would not succeed in his aim?'
Kate shrugged lightly. 'It doesn't really matter what I thought,' she parried. 'We're here now, and I must just make the best of it.'
Leanne blew a smoke ring. 'Does not Matthew's company compensate for any—inconvenience?' There was a sudden sharpness in her voice which did not escape Kate.
She felt sudden colour rise in her face. 'Of course.' Leanne's smile widened, and her gaze went past her to the closed dressing room door, and lingered there quite deliberately.
Kate felt herself stiffen.
Leanne spoke again, her tone conveying amused puzzlement. 'You are not at all his usual type.' Her eyes looked Kate over from the crown of her head to her bare feet.
Kate moistened her lips. 'Perhaps his—tastes have altered.'
'I think they must have done.' Leanne moved slightly, stretching her body voluptuously, conveying a wealth of pleasurable reminiscence in one brief movement. 'He has lost none of his attraction. He is still all the man any woman could ever want. Or don't you agree?'
'Naturally, I agree,' Kate said woodenly. She took a scent spray from her bag and applied a cloud of fragrance to her wrists and throat, as if she didn't have a care in the world.
She could feel Leanne's eyes on her, devouring her, as she tossed the spray back into her bag, found the flat sandals she'd been wearing all day, and slid her feet into them.
Leanne said gently, 'And what about you, little English Kate? Are you all the woman he needs? Somehow I doubt it.'
Kate's voice sounded strange in her own ears. 'Why don't you ask him?'
Leanne's smile was catlike. She leaned forward, stubbing out her cigarette on a crystal ashtray on the dressing table. 'Perhaps I don't need to ask. I knew him well, remember.'
'But I have him now,' was what Kate wanted to say, but the words choked in her throat, because they were lies, and somehow Leanne would know, just as she knew now the total sterility of their relationship and was amused by it.
Leanne came to stand beside her. Kate looked at their mirrored reflections side by side, her own slenderness enhanced by the ill-fitting green dress contrasting with Leanne's confident beauty in the cerise silk which clung to her full breasts and rounded hips.
Leanne said with husky mockery, 'And I will tell you something else—I do not think his tastes have changed at all. And I want him back.'
Kate found her voice at last. 'Don't you think your husband might object?'
Leanne shrugged. 'Why should he? He loves me and he wants me to be happy—and as he is no longer capable of satisfying me himself…' She shrugged again, indicating all kinds of possibilities.
Kate said huskily, 'You're revolting!'
'And you are a child,' Leanne retorted. 'But why should we quarrel, when I can help you?'
'Help me?' Kate stared at her. 'Why should you want to do that?'
'Because your presence here is an impediment,' said Leanne, the look in her eyes frankly calculating. 'It would suit me very well if you were elsewhere, and as that is clearly your wish also, there is no reason why arrangements agreeable to us both cannot be made.'
'I see.' Kate was gripping the edge of the dressing table. 'I leave, so that you can play your games with Matt. You're taking rather a lot for granted, aren't you? It doesn't occur to you that Matt could have other ideas?'
Leanne laughed. 'You credit him with too great a sense of honour! He remembers as well as I do how it once was between us, and he wants me. We shall be discreet—Jethro will not be hurt, if that is what you are thinking—and then I will persuade my husband to do as Matt wishes and allow himself to be interviewed.'
Kate said slowly, 'You actually want him to do the interview—even though it could be dangerous for him when his enemies find out he is still alive?'
Leanne looked at her scornfully. 'You call this being alive—buried here in this house, seeing no one, going nowhere? How little you know! Jethro has taken his chances in the past, so why not again?' The lovely face was hard, suddenly, the calculating look even more pronounced. 'He is an old man—and sick. He has had his life, and a good one. Why should I not have mine?'
'With Matt as part of it?'
Leanne's full lips curved smilingly. 'Why not, if we find after this time that it is what we want?'
'Why not indeed?' Kate said wearily.
'I think we begin to understand each other,' said Leanne with satisfaction. She put up a hand, smoothing an errant strand of hair into place. 'I knew that you would be sensible and realistic. You have had your time with Matthew, but now it is over, and men become very bored with women who cling when they should let go.' She moved towards the door. 'Are you ready to come downstairs?'
Kate's lips moved. 'Presently.'
The door closed, and Leanne had gone. Kate released the edge of the dressing table, and flexed her aching fingers. Her head was throbbing, and she felt a little sick.
Carlos had been right, she thought. She had been a little shocked by the way he spoke of his stepmother, and yet he had said little more than the truth. '
If she wants Matthew Lincoln, then she will take him, and you will be hurt
,' he had said, and the pain was already beginning.
Was this why Matt had turned away from her on the beach that morning—because he knew that soon Leanne would be back in his life? It began to seem like it. Momentarily he had been tempted to take her, but a closer involvement might have interfered with his plans, so he had rejected her.
She bit down hard on her lip. It couldn't be true. That was Leanne's kind of thinking. She infected everything. And it was years since she and Matt had been lovers. How could she be so sure that he would want the relationship revived?
Perhaps because he's told her, a sly little voice within her suggested. Perhaps that's why you didn't see him all afternoon—because he was with her. And anyway, she isn't the woman any man could forget in a hurry.
She didn't want to go down to dinner, but she knew if she stayed in her room that it would be a victory for Leanne, and she wasn't defeated—not yet, at any rate. She gave herself a long, last unhappy look, and left the room.
Jakey was hovering in the hall as she came downstairs, waiting to usher her to the right door. She took a long, deep breath as he stood aside to allow her to precede him into the room. It was like being in one of those nightmares where the curtain was about to go up on the first night of a play, and she was waiting in the wings, stunned by the realisation that she didn't know any of the lines she was supposed to say.
And dressed in the wrong costume too, she thought with self-derision, as they all turned to look at her.
Jethro Alvarez occupied centre stage, his massive bulk accentuated by a burgundy velvet dinner jacket.
'Miss Marston, at last,' he said. 'We were wondering if we should send out a search party.' He was smiling as he spoke, but the dark eyes were enigmatic as they surveyed her. 'Carlos, my son, get the young lady a drink. She looks as if she could use one.'
'Come and tell me what you would like. A Martini, perhaps?' Carlos led her over to a well-loaded drinks trolley. 'I thought you would never come down,' he said in an undertone.
Kate flushed slightly. 'I—I was trying to make this dress wearable,' she said, trying for lightness. 'I'm afraid I haven't succeeded too well.'
'You look charming.' Carlos' eyes rested on her appreciatively, as she nervously adjusted the slipping neckline. 'Like a little girl dressed up in grown-up's clothes.'
She winced. 'That's what I was afraid of.' She took the Martini he handed her, and gave him a nervous smile. 'Well—cheers, I suppose.'
Although she had deliberately avoided looking at him, she had known from the moment she entered the big room exactly where Matt was—standing near the window talking, inevitably, to Leanne. Now, every fibre of awareness in her warned her that he was approaching.
He too was wearing evening clothes—a white dinner jacket over close-fitting dark pants, and a frilled shirt. Apart from the long-ago wedding, it was the first time she had seen him so formally clad, and the effect was devastating.
She turned defensively to face him, the tip of her tongue moistening her dry lips.
His dark brows drew together as he looked down at her. He asked, 'Are you all right?'
'Never better,' she returned with false brightness.
His mouth turned down derisively. 'Now that's open to question.' The blue eyes flicked over her. i clearly got the better bargain under the clothes loan scheme.'
Kate flushed. 'Naturally.' She made to turn away, but his hand closed round her arm.
He demanded, 'What else is wrong? Still brooding over the evil fate which has trapped you here?'