Kitabı oku: «Scarlet Lady»

CHAPTER ONE

SHE’D lost. To the tune of nearly a million pounds in costs. A million pounds! Ginny sat frozen and immobile while the words roared around her head and slowly, brutally their meaning became clear. All her efforts to make herself financially independent—the self-denial, the relentless sacrifices which had begun to threaten her marriage—were to be wiped away by a judge’s decision.

Her perfectly painted mouth trembled. The sacrifices had been too great. She’d lost almost everything because she’d decided to sue the newspaper which had printed outrageous lies about her. The court had upheld the journalist’s story and she had been ordered to pay all of the defendant’s costs.

Yet she was innocent! Ginny all but sobbed in despair. She loved her husband—and her self-respect—too much to sleep around. It appalled her that anyone would believe she’d furthered her career by doing so.

As the room whirled in a kaleidoscope of colour, a friendly arm came around her shoulder. ‘Ginny,’ said her bodyguard gently, ‘let’s get out of here, huh?’

The arm steadied her. Now she focused on a sea of faces, all looking at her. She was used to scrutiny, though not for this reason. From force of habit she smoothed her face of any revealing expression and eased down her breathing till it was normal.

‘Sure, Chas,’ she said evenly. And she thought that few people must realise how hard she had to work to control her voice, her eyes, her limbs as she uncoiled her near-six-foot length and gracefully shrugged on a fake fur coat against the bitter cold that awaited outside. ‘Take me home,’ she said gratefully, aware that only Chas knew how badly she was shaking and how deeply the verdict had wounded her sense of decency and pride.

She needed Leo. Her darling husband. The man she’d loved from the moment their eyes had first met. It was all she could think of—Leo’s arms around her, comforting her, cradling her and murmuring soothing words of tender love.

The Press were already exploding flashes in her face, even in the courtroom, shouting cruel questions that made her wince. Like ‘Where’s your husband, Ginny?’ That hurt. If only he’d been by her side instead of administering an estate that had managers galore!

She drew in her breath when she thought of Leo and how disappointed she’d felt when he hadn’t been prepared to accept her preoccupation with this case. She’d realised that he couldn’t completely abandon Castlestowe, but she’d needed him. Leo’s continued absence during the trial had been like a dagger in her heart.

She’d been nineteen when they’d married and for four wonderful years they had loved one another with a passion that had had her floating on air. He’d been kind, gentle and cherishing. Her empty soul had flowered with his love. It was the first time in her life that she’d felt truly whole.

He’d been eager in the old days to hurry back to their London home after his visits to the family seat in Scotland. And when she’d returned from an assignment abroad he’d be waiting at the airport, arms full of flowers, and exciting boxes at his feet containing perfume and silk fripperies, his handsome face alight with love.

Her eyes glowed with memories. Deep down he was sensitive. He’d see how upset she was. He’d put Castlestowe to one side and take her in his arms and their differences would be forgotten. Their love would knit them together again.

Slowly she walked out of the courtroom with the famous seamless stride that made her slender body flow within her beautifully cut cerise suit—the stride and sway which had won her the title of Catwalk Model of the Year.

‘Ginny! Over here... Ginny! Give us a flash of yer legs! Where’s old Leo, darlin’? Ginny! Here, Ginny...!’

Knowing that she’d be pestered mercilessly otherwise, she gave the Press a minute or two more, maintaining her serene calm and the same elegant tilt of her blonde head that had prompted the media to dub her ‘the new Grace Kelly’. It had taken her a while to force her own name on the public consciousness but at last she had become the Ginny McKenzie.

Few ever mentioned the fact that she was a Brandon by marriage, Leo being the son of Viscount Brandon. Her refusal to change her name had caused trouble with his family—but how could she have done that when it had taken her so much effort to become recognised? It would have been professional suicide.

‘Here, Gin! Over here! Good girl! Look at me, babe!’

‘They think you’re a dog, or somethin’?’ growled Chas.

‘Their property,’ she said ruefully. And steadied her voice. No outsider must know how she felt. ‘OK. That’s enough. If they can’t get a decent photo out of those shots, they don’t deserve a job. Get me out of here,’ she begged.

And she clamped a hand on her Garboesque brimmed hat as Chas manoeuvred her through the pushing crowds to the waiting limo.

‘Hell,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t know how you stand this!’

Exhausted, she pulled down the blinds to shut out the excited faces outside. Fans and enemies. The envious and the angry. And she wondered how she stood it. And why. Was it worth it?

When the car had picked up a little speed and Sue, the chauffeuse, began to weave in and out of the back streets to throw followers off the scent, Ginny finally let out a long, heartfelt groan and slumped into the white leather cushions.

‘I can’t believe it,’ she said. ‘I’m innocent and I’m being forced to pay the court costs for a disgusting tabloid which printed lies about me!’

Chas took her hand, his blue eyes angry, and leaned close in sympathy. ‘I wish I could help. I’m—Damn!’ he swore as a blinding flash illuminated their faces. ’Stop the car!’ he yelled, clambering over Ginny as Sue screeched to a halt.

Ginny felt her heart sink. Neither of them had noticed that the blind had shot up, that they’d been stationary and waiting for traffic lights to turn green. Or that a photographer had managed to tail them and take a shot of Chas’s kind consolation. Miserably she waited for Chas to return, knowing that the photographer had already vanished and there would be another scoop in the papers.

She shivered, her enormous eyes glistening with unshed tears. Achieving success beyond most people’s wildest dreams had brought with it a load of trouble.

‘I’ll chuck it all in,’ she said shakily to no one in particular.

‘And give them cause to think you’re guilty?’ called Sue indignantly over her shoulder.

‘They already do!’ Ginny drew in a sharp, despairing breath and waited while Chas slid back into the car. ‘I want Leo!’ she groaned.

‘Won’t be long. Come on,’ soothed Chas.

An arm reached across her, pulling down the blind again. And then she was being eased into Chas’s concrete-like chest, where she snuffled and tried to hold back her tears till she heard the sound of iron gates clanging back. St John’s Wood, exclusive and protected. Home. And Leo—perhaps. She stilled her racing pulses ruthlessly because she dared not hope too much.

‘Thanks,’ she said huskily to Chas. He was a dear. Solid, East End decent. ‘Sue, slowly, please. I need a moment to tidy up.’

Butterflies beat themselves against the walls of her stomach when she saw Leo’s car slewed across the driveway ahead. A joy filled her heart. The trial was over. Good or bad, it meant that the pressure on her time was off. She and Leo could spend time together, heal their marriage. The thought of seeing him made her heart pump rapidly.

And she remembered the joyful days they’d spent together, loving and laughing, such good friends, so close, so happy. A frown dipped her arched brows. Once he’d been her rock. Now she felt uncertain as to her welcome.

With trembling, suddenly clumsy fingers, she flicked out the hanging mirror and nervously whisked ash-blonde strands back into the severe chignon, then retouched the mascara on her endless lashes and reshaped her pink mouth. There was a vulnerability and a paleness about her face that hadn’t been there before. Now her cheekbones seemed even sharper, the hollows beneath more pronounced.

Jamming her hat back on her head and shrugging her coat collar up high, she said huskily, ‘OK, Sue. I’m decent.’ And felt like a girl on her first date. Scared. Excited. Quivering.

Disappointment hit her when she saw that Leo wasn’t waiting for her on the mansion steps when they swept up. George, the butler, was, however, with the cook and the maid and the gardener, all with loving concern on their faces. They were fond of her but their sympathy when she swung her long legs from the limo was almost too much to bear.

It crossed her mind that her staff currently cared for her more than her husband did. And they believed she was innocent.

Perhaps he was on the phone. Maybe he’d telephoned the solicitor so that he’d know the verdict before she arrived home—or he was fending off the media. Calmer, she felt glad that she’d chosen the sleek, tailored suit. It was Leo’s favourite.

Warmth flowed through her. They’d cuddle and he’d tell her that he loved her and nothing else mattered. Then they’d go to bed and he’d hold her tightly and everything would be all right. She felt better already.

‘Leo around?’ she asked George eagerly when everyone had said how sorry, how shocked they were and offered their help wherever it might be needed.

‘In the library, Ginny,’ he answered with more than usual tenderness.

‘Fine,’ she lied, suddenly wary. Why was George looking at her like that? ‘And...thanks, everyone, for your support. I do appreciate it. It makes a lot of difference to the way I feel. Bless you all.’

Still smiling, wanting to let her composure go and to give in to the newly arrived apprehension, she wriggled out of her coat, flung her hat on the marquetry table and glided to the library.

But, positioned at the far end of the long room, by the window, her beloved Leo was smiling down at a woman who sat on the window-seat: Arabella Lake, fellow model, rival, and a mean manhunter. And neither of them even noticed her arrival because they were both so engrossed in one another.

Shocked, Ginny clutched the jamb of the door, almost at the end of her tether. Arabella! Her eyes closed in dismay then opened reluctantly at his soft, husky laugh. She wanted comfort. Needed his arms around her. Instead, she’d have to listen to Arabella’s false condolences and know that the malicious woman was delighting in Ginny’s failure to clear her name.

‘Leo!’ she called, her voice low and husky with misery.

He looked up, his eyes brooding, nodded curtly in cold acknowledgement, then continued to smile and chat to Arabella. Ginny walked the long gallery as if she were on hot coals and naked before a jeering audience, her stomach somewhere in her boots, her pulses jittering so badly that she could hardly keep her balance.

It struck her forcibly that it had been a long time since Leo had looked at her with the same smiling affection that he was showing towards Arabella. When he’d glanced towards her just now, his face falling into icily disapproving lines, he’d seemed almost a stranger. Nervous and inwardly panicking, she gazed at his beloved face, seeing what Arabella was seeing.

A tall man, one of the few who could tower over tall models like herself—and Arabella. Thick hair the colour of rich brown silk, swept back from his face and cut to perfection. Tanned and healthy from an outdoor life on the estate. His brows strongly defined and often imperious, a long, straight nose of aristocratic hauteur and steadily piercing eyes that drowned women in their smoky, smouldering depths. And a projection of masculinity and natural, centuries-old authority and self-confidence that drew women to him like a magnet.

They’d called him Charisma, at Eton. It was obvious why and her heart lurched as her adoring eyes followed the sharp line of his jaw and lingered on the full mouth with an upper lip that could have been chiselled from marble like the statues in Castlestowe Castle.

She wanted to fling herself at him, to press her mouth to his. But something held her back—a fear of rejection so strong that she faltered, unable to continue for a moment.

And then she walked on, feeling the pull of Leo’s earthy sexuality and wondering whether Arabella felt it too. Stupid! Of course she did! There had always been a rawness about him that transcended the conventional politeness of his impeccable breeding. It had forced her to face her own passion, to give out a little of the fire—but not all; she didn’t dare—that her adoptive parents had all but driven out of her at an early age. And now she could see that he was deliberately projecting that overt sexuality—to Arabella.

The corners of her mouth drooped in misery when she heard him talking to Arabella in the tone of voice he used in bed—as if he’d spent too long in a smoke-filled room. She saw the intense look, the total concentration, as if his hungry grey eyes could look nowhere else...

He’s mine! she thought furiously. ‘Hello, Arabella.’ Her shaky greeting won her a brief, cold smile from the smirking woman but no other acknowledgment. Leo seemed to have superglued his gaze to Arabella’s, Ginny thought glumly.

She knew that he’d been annoyed over the trial even taking place. The lawsuit had begun two years ago and she’d been forced to juggle extended modelling dates and sessions with her lawyer till she’d hardly seemed to be at home at all—and when she had been she’d felt exhausted. Leo had complained. Eventually he’d asked her to work part-time and settle down on the estate in Scotland. Which he loved and she hated. It was bleak and wet and isolated.

‘The verdict came in, Leo,’ she said quietly, breathing evenly to eliminate the shake from her voice.

‘I know. I got a call from a journalist asking my opinion of Chas,’ he said curtly.

Ginny paled, knowing that the scene in the car would have been embellished out of all proportion. ‘Can I talk to you in private for a moment or so?’ she asked faintly.

‘If you wish.’

Leo’s indifferent tones cut her like a knife. The humiliation was so intense that she felt like turning tail and running from the room, but Arabella was already rising to her feet and wrapping her arms around Leo’s neck.

‘Poor Ginny,’ sighed Arabella, her green eyes slanting maliciously. ‘I hear she’ll be bankrupt. I guess she’s lost everything she lives for. I’ll slip away for a while. Bye for now, darling,’ she cooed, then planted her scarlet lips firmly on Leo’s and kept them there for several seconds.

‘Catch you later,’ said Leo calmly, emerging from the clinch. His hands stayed on Arabella’s waist, Ginny noticed jealously. And he was smiling beautifully, letting his eyes twinkle. Or were they kindling? she thought jealously. But, whatever they were doing, it wasn’t for her. ‘Tea will be served in the drawing room in an hour. See you then.’

He smiled when Arabella gave him a flirty flutter of her talons and tottered off in a skirt that was indecently short.

‘Is...?’ Ginny frowned. ‘Is Arabella staying for tea?’ she asked in dismay.

‘Staying—’ Leo turned an unreadable gaze on her ‘—for a few days.’

When she needed privacy to lick her wounds! ‘You... invited her?’

The long dark fringe of lashes flickered. ‘You have a problem with that?’ he asked.

‘I—I wanted us to be alone,’ Ginny began miserably.

‘I’ve been alone for too long. I wanted company.’ Leo’s eyes only warmed when they watched Arabella’s slow progress—a kind of exaggerated cat-walk down the long gallery.

Ginny tried to smile without much success. He seemed to be telling her something. And she didn’t want to hear it. The implication was that he needed a woman around who’d give him what she’d been incapable of giving for some time: love, companionship, quality time...sex.

Her tawny eyes flickered with pain. They hadn’t made love—not real love, sweet and tender—since the tabloid article had come out. And she’d been too scared to ask if he didn’t care any more. Her heart pounded violently. If that were true, she’d go to pieces. It would be the end of her world.

Once, twice, he’d made love to her as if he hardly knew her, in a restrained way that had left her crying alone in the great bed while he’d disappeared to take a shower. She’d imagined that he was washing her off his body. How long was it since they’d last slept together? She couldn’t even remember, knowing only that she missed his loving arms and felt terribly alone.

Appalled, Ginny waited in the cold, unfriendly silence till Arabella’s merrily clicking heels had stopped driving her crazy and the door had closed at the far end of the room. Leo was wiping lipstick from his mouth. And the cool neutrality had gone and he was suddenly very, very angry.

He had no right to be! Surely he must know what an ordeal she’d been through, how hard it had been to hold herself together these past few months? She was his wife and she was in trouble!

‘Leo... I know it’s been hard for you—hard for both of us—but... right at this moment I need you,’ she said brokenly.

His bitter, glittering eyes slanted in her direction. ‘Is that how it works?’ he growled, and faced her at last, his face working with anger, the mouth that had so recently softened under Arabella’s now a hard, unpleasant line carved in Scottish granite. ‘I’ve needed you, Ginny. I’ve needed your support, your time, an understanding ear. I was happy for you to have a career but I didn’t expect it to take you over completely. And this trial and the rumours about you—’

‘Leo!’ she said quickly, terrified of where this was leading. ‘They’re not true...’ Her voice tailed away at his tormented expression.

‘Ginny,’ he said quietly, ‘you must know how deeply you’ve hurt me and my family.’

She turned away. Leo’s family had always unnerved her. His grandfather, the Earl of Castlestowe, had made it clear that he’d expected her to drop her career and concentrate on producing heirs.

‘I never wanted to hurt anyone you care about. I love you,’ she said unhappily, trembling, trying to remember how it had felt to be loved back. There was nothing but emptiness now—a blank feeling as if he’d wiped her clean and left a vacuum. ‘I married you because I couldn’t live without you. I still feel like that’

He thrust his hands in the pockets of his linen trousers and stood silhouetted against the huge, mullioned window, a picture of power, money and perfect lineage. Chills ran down her spine. He was regretting their marriage. She didn’t fit, never had done. Wrong class. Wrong blood. Oh, God! she screamed inside.

‘You seem to have managed fine without me for some time,’ he said huskily. ‘What do you think that tells me, Ginny?’

‘Please try to understand,’ she said, horrified at how far they’d drawn away from one another. ‘I love you but I need to work for my self-respect—’

‘We talked of children,’ he reminded her. ‘You knew how much I wanted us to have a child.’

Ginny winced. She was scared of motherhood and what it implied, because their child would never be hers to love. They wouldn’t be having a baby. They’d be producing an heir. And almost certainly her duty would be to bring up the Brandon heir according to the strict Brandon rules and regulations.

She knew something of Leo’s childhood: the nannies who’d ruled his life till he’d been sent to boarding-school, the cold baths and rigorous devotion to duty. Leo had touched her heart when he’d told her that his mother had never cuddled him and had died in a riding accident when he was five.

Her own childhood had been hell too. No way was she going to inflict misery on her own flesh and blood in the same way. When she had a child, she wanted to be free to give it the love that she and Leo had been denied. But first their marriage had to be strong.

‘You know why we delayed—’

‘Your figure. Your career,’ he said accusingly.

She stiffened. ‘No! that isn’t true! Leo, I never knew you could be so cruel—’

‘I was never cuckolded before!’ he said tightly.

She gasped in dismay and scanned the cold, bleak face for some sign of pity. None. Only that merciless glare. Pain seared through her. ‘No man has ever made love to me but you!’ she replied vehemently, her fingers picking fretfully at the pearl buttons of her suit. The curl of his mouth grew more contemptuous. ‘You have to believe me, Lao!’ she cried passionately, near to hysterics.

‘How can I ever know?’ he shot back.

The question shafted through her like a knife. Ginny raised sorrowful, gold-shot eyes to his, begging for a shred of affection that she could cling to. ‘I can’t prove anything,’ she said in a whisper. ‘Not to you, the public, my friends, your family, the courts. I was hoping—’ She broke off and took a moment to find control of her voice. ‘I lost the case,’ she croaked. ‘I have to pay nearly a million in costs,’ she continued, hoping for some hint that he might want to console her.

‘I told you not to resort to litigation,’ he said in exasperation.

‘Don’t men normally defend their wife’s honour?’ she asked, her near-hysteria making her sound a little sharp.

‘Against the tabloids?’ One peat-brown eyebrow expressed scorn and disagreement. ‘That’s not how it’s done, Ginny It would be tantamount to saying that their lies could have an effect. Ignoring them is more dignified. You went against my advice and now you’re reaping the consequences.’

‘And you mean to chastise me like a disobedient child?’ she retorted. ‘Can’t you see I need—?’

‘No. I won’t throw Brandon money at you any more. You have your own account; use it,’ he said flatly.

Tears trickled down her cheeks and into the corners of her parted lips. ‘Oh, drat!’ she rasped angrily, knuckling them away, not caring if her eye make-up became smudged. ‘Leo, I wasn’t asking for money; I’ll earn more if I have to—do shows, TV interviews, anything—but...I...’

Overwhelmed, she reached out her arms to him in a piteous gesture. He ignored her plea. She knew that he was stubborn. Once, he’d defied his family to marry her and had defended her when they didn’t rush to produce children as soon as everyone expected. And once he’d admired her success.

Now they no longer had the same goals, she thought miserably. Their lives were drawing apart. They had become strangers and he didn’t want to defend her any more.

‘Your career means a lot to you,’ he observed.

‘Naturally,’ she said huskily. ‘I’ve worked hard. It’s given me self-esteem, Leo!’

‘I know that. I don’t denigrate what you’ve done. I’ve been proud of you.’ His hooded eyes brooded on her. ‘But... you can’t be everything to all people and do it well, Ginny,’ he said in a gentler tone than before.

‘I had to try!’ she cried in exasperation. ‘Don’t you see? If I hadn’t kept my name up top and continued with the shows during the run-up to the trial, I’d have been yesterday’s face in the twinkling of an eye. And what else would I do?’ she asked hotly. ‘You don’t seriously think I could sit around all day discussing menus and arranging flowers, do you?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ he growled.

Ginny drove her teeth into her lower lip, knowing that she’d been unfair. He’d never asked that of her. ‘What do you want from me?’ she asked.

‘Exclusivity,’ he rasped rawly.

She controlled the urge to wince. ‘I am yours. Wholly yours.’

‘Are you?’

Her mouth trembled. It was clear that he didn’t believe her. ‘My darling, can’t we start again? Please hold me. I need your arms around me so badly—’

‘And I’ve needed yours many times and you’ve not been there,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s not a marriage any more—’

‘It will be!’ she cried in panic, her hand pressing her chest where her heart banged painfully against her ribs. ‘It’s been a bad time but we can be together again—’

‘We both have to want that,’ he muttered.

Her eyes rounded in horror. His serious expression scared her. Cold to the bone, she dreaded to be told that he didn’t love her any longer. She tried to speak but could only croak out a plaintive little ‘Leo!’

‘It’s true, Ginny,’ he muttered, the line of his mouth as wintry as the atmosphere at Castlestowe. ‘I’m not sure you understand how to live and behave normally any more. Ever since you began to hit the big time, you’ve been spinning into orbit and getting more out of control as the years go by. And now you’re famous people fix things for you. Hair, teeth, nails. They wax your legs, drive you wherever you want to go, arrange your accommodation, whisk you to parties and even dress you!’

“It’s not like that!’ she protested. ’You and the public only see what the film crews want you to see! People dashing around trying to look important and making sure they get into camera shot!’

‘But it’s an unreal life,’ he insisted. ‘What the hell do you know about something as everyday as marriage? You don’t realise it takes nurturing and nourishing to keep it alive and on firel’ he cried, his voice rising. ‘Every time there’s a picture of you with some leering film star or politician I get sniggers from people I know, and I can tell they’re wondering if I believe half the things that are written about you! Then you have to go and defend your precious reputation in open court—and you lose!’ he roared. ‘Ginny, if you haven’t been sleeping with every PR man in sight and any fake-tanned actor who’s up for an Oscar, everyone else thinks you have—and that’s crucifying me!’

‘I know! I’m sorry! I really am!’ she wailed.

Was that it? Had his pride been wounded because his wife was under suspicion? Ginny wondered if he’d had to defend her to his tough old grandfather, apologising for the dreadful publicity. And Leo was hurt. She could see that now; there was pain in his eyes and the lines that ran to the corners of his mouth.

Hesitantly she took a step or two forwards till she was an inch away from him. The depth of his anguish reached out to her heart and she longed to throw herself into his arms, to comfort him—herself too. To feel the strength of him encircling her, protecting her. Even a fighter had to take a rest and she’d been battling for too long.

‘I hate that side of it!’ she said fervently. ‘You have to believe that—’

‘But will you stop taking one assignment after another without giving yourself a decent break?’ he demanded.

The question arrested her. Standing so close to him, her wan face uplifted, her famous tawny eyes wide with wonder, she knew that she wanted to. At that moment she’d had enough, and her job had evolved into a love-hate affair. But it had been her dream since she was tiny to be one of the top models in the world. She’d only just reached that status. Could she give it up and admit that she couldn’t take the heat?