Читать книгу Bought By A Billionaire - Kay Thorpe - Страница 5

LEONIE stared at him in stupefaction. When she did find her voice it sounded as if it were coming from the bottom of a well. ‘You can’t be serious!’

‘I was never more so,’ Vidal assured her hardily. ‘For two long years I’ve tried to put you from my mind—to tell myself that no woman is worth losing sleep over. But it’s been of little use. I made you an offer I’d never made to any other woman, only to have it thrown back in my face as though it were an insult. I have the opportunity now to make you eat your words.’ The pause was brief. ‘The final choice still remains with you.’

‘It’s emotional blackmail!’ she accused, in no doubt as to his meaning. ‘You’re asking too much!’

‘No more than you’re asking of me in continuing to employ a man who stole from me,’ came the unmoved return. ‘Of course, you could always allow him to make the decision for himself.’

There would be no question of which way that decision would go, Leonie knew. Her father would be devastated if he knew what she was facing. The question of whether Vidal would actually call in the police if the money was paid back was debatable, but he certainly wouldn’t be prepared to reinstate him, or give him a reference, which would effectively put paid to his career.

Vidal made an abrupt movement. ‘I’ll leave you to think it over.’

Leonie sank to a seat on the edge of the bed as the door closed behind him, her nerves in tatters. Any appeal to his better nature was going to be a waste of time: he didn’t have a better nature. But marriage! How could she possibly go along with that? Especially when offered in a spirit of revenge for past offences.

There was a cheval mirror a few feet away. She caught a glimpse of herself, shirt only partially buttoned, hair tumbled from the hands run through it. She could still feel the imprint of his lips on hers, the hardness of his body against her—the deep down stirring at the memory. He was right about one thing: she had wanted him two years ago and she wanted him now. Despising him as a person made no impact on her senses.

She’d felt that impact the very first moment she’d laid eyes on him. She’d called in at the office to invite her father to lunch, to be told by his secretary that he was in conference with the company president. The inner office door had opened almost as she said it, framing a man whose expression registered open appreciation as he viewed her…

‘I’ve been looking at the photograph on your father’s desk for the past half-hour,’ he said. ‘It fails to do you full justice.’ He moved forward, holding out a hand, his smile devastating. ‘I’m Vidal Parella Dos Santos.’

Leonie took the hand, murmuring a response, aware of a tingle like a small electric shock as his fingers closed about hers. After all she’d heard and read about the man before her it was hardly surprising to find him exuding such pure animal magnetism. Women throughout Europe had been subject to it.

She turned her gaze on the man at his back. ‘I was hoping we could have lunch together, Dad.’

‘Sorry, darling, I’m going to be tied up for at least another hour,’ Stuart answered regretfully.

‘In which case, perhaps you’ll allow me to take you to lunch in your father’s stead?’ offered Vidal. ‘It would give me the greatest pleasure.’

Leonie’s instinct was to refuse, but a stronger force held sway. It was, after all, only lunch. ‘That’s very nice of you,’ she said.

The smile came again, equally disturbing in its effect. ‘It takes little effort to be nice to a beautiful woman.’

Leonie caught her father’s eye, reading the message there without difficulty. He was as aware as she was of Vidal’s reputation. Not that she had any intention of becoming one of his conquests.

‘I’ll see you later, then,’ she said lightly. ‘Don’t work too hard!’

They went to a restaurant she had never visited before, but where Vidal was welcomed by name and escorted to a table by the maître d’ himself. The place was well populated, the dress code very much upmarket. Leonie was glad she’d chosen to wear a new lemon suit. While not exactly designer label, it looked the part sufficiently well to pass muster to all but the most discerning eye.

‘I gather you’re a pretty frequent visitor here?’ she remarked when they were seated.

‘Whenever I come to London,’ Vidal agreed. ‘They know my tastes.’

In women too, no doubt, she thought with a cynical edge. She wouldn’t be the first he’d brought here, by any means. She studied him as he ran his eyes down the menu, taking in every superbly carved, olive-skinned detail of his face, the breadth of shoulder beneath the fine grey suiting, the lean, long-fingered hands with their well-tended nails. So far as outward appearances were concerned he had it all. Even without his position and wealth, he would never have to fight for female companionship.

As though sensing her scrutiny, he glanced up, catching her before she could look away. ‘Do I meet with your approval?’ he asked smilingly.

‘You’re a handsome man,’ she answered, refusing to be thrown. ‘You must be accustomed to attention.’

The dark head inclined in mock humility. ‘A matter I owe to my ancestry. The Dos Santos males have always been fortunate.’

‘Do the Dos Santos women share the same inheritance?’

‘Some. Not all.’ He paused, studying her in turn. ‘You’ve little of your father in you. Your mother must have been a very beautiful woman herself.’

Even after four years, mention of her still brought a pang. ‘How did you know she was dead?’ she asked.

‘I make it my business to know a top employee’s background,’ he said. ‘I understand you still live with your father?’

‘That’s right.’ Leonie saw no cause to explain her reasons. He should be able to work them out for himself. She dropped her eyes to the menu in front of her. ‘I’d like the whitebait to start, followed by the trout, please.’

‘A woman of decision!’ He applauded. ‘I believe I’ll have the same. You’re content to leave the choice of wine to me?’

Green eyes widened innocently. ‘Of course. Men know so much more about wine!’

The smile that curved his lips wrought havoc on her heartstrings. ‘Mock me at your peril,’ he warned. ‘I may find it necessary to exact penalties.‘

Flirting with a man of Vidal’s calibre was hardly to be recommended, but it was too enjoyable a pastime to be abandoned. ‘I’ll bear it in mind,’ she said demurely.

She’d fully intended to plead other commitments after lunch, but when the time came she found herself agreeing without demur to his suggestion that they take a ride on the river.

‘You may not believe it, but this is the first time I’ve ever done this,’ she remarked when they were afloat.

‘I find it very easy to believe,’ Vidal returned. ‘Few of us appreciate the readily available. There are parts of Lisbon I’ve never visited.’

‘I know the Dos Santos headquarters are in Lisbon, but is it your main home too?’ Leonie ventured.

‘Not the city itself. I live at Sintra, some thirty or so kilometres to the northwest.’

‘Your own place?’

‘Of course. Reconstructed from the remains of a fourteenth century monastery.’

Her eyes lit with interest. ‘Really?’

‘And truly,’ he mocked. ‘Not that you’ll find any ghosts from the past still in residence. They were all driven out by the clamour of modern machinery.’

‘You planned the restoration yourself?’

‘With the invaluable aid of an architect friend who was able to tell me what was and wasn’t possible. It was finished three years ago, so the new stonework has weathered in. I employed a landscaping company to design the grounds surrounding it.’

‘Does your family live in the same area?’

‘The Dos Santos estates are in the Douro Valley. Beautiful, but too isolated for my tastes. There’s more than one branch of the family surviving,’ he added, anticipating her next question.

‘My father’s cousin has land adjoining. There are relatives on the island of Madeira too. They own several hotels there.’

‘So you’re not the only one who chose to go into business rather than sit around enjoying the fruits of inheritance?’ Leonie remarked lightly.

The comment drew a quirk to his lips. ‘A very poetic way of putting it, though correct in essence. I leave the latter way of life to my cousins.’

Leonie would have liked to know more, but the warning flags were out. She would be doing herself no favours by delving any deeper into the life of a man she was unlikely to be seeing after today.

The thought alone brought a rare despondency. He came across as so very different from the image she’d formed via media reports. She was drawn to him in more than just the physical sense.

They left the boat at Greenwich, and took a taxi back to where they’d left the car. By then Leonie was even less inclined to call time on the day. She’d never gone short of male attention, but none of the men she’d met had radiated the same charm. Vidal made her feel she was the one person in the whole world he wanted to be with. Deep down, she knew it was all part of his technique, but she turned a deaf ear to the cautionary voices.

Drinks in a Mayfair wine bar, followed by an invitation to dinner in his hotel suite, made his intentions clear enough, but she chose to follow the same reckless path, driven by an inner, irresistible need. Life was for living. With a man like Vidal, the experience could only be good.

The suite was sumptuous, the food superbly prepared, the conversation scintillating. They ate out on the balcony, finishing off the meal with brandies.

Feeling positively euphoric, Leonie got up and went to the balustrade to look out over the sparkling panorama. ‘“When a man is tired of London, he is tired of life”,’ she quoted softly.

‘Samuel Johnson knew a very different London, I think,’ Vidal observed. He was at her back, hands sliding about her waist to draw her closer, lips parting the hair at her nape to nuzzle the tender skin. ‘The night is beautiful, but you surpass it,’ he murmured. ‘Eu quero, meu querido!’

Leonie had taken off her jacket earlier. The thin blouse she was wearing beneath offered little defence against the hands now sliding up to cup her breasts. She felt her nipples peak beneath the gentle caressing motion of his thumbs, a shudder run the whole length of her body. A core of heat rose from some central spot, radiating outwards to encompass her whole being. She felt as if she were floating, her legs too weak to support her.

Vidal turned her towards him, face dark but for the glitter in his eyes as he bent his head to find her lips. The kiss was a revelation, drawing an instant and overwhelming response. She could feel his heat, the burgeoning hardness against her thighs. He’d removed his jacket too. The fine silk of his shirt moulded to the muscularity beneath, emphasising every masculine line.

‘Come,’ he said softly.

It was only then, as he took her hand to lead her back indoors, that she began to come to her senses. This was nothing new to him. Nothing special, the way it was for her. She was just another easy lay—another notch on his bedpost.

He turned his head to view her in some surprise as she pulled sharply free of him. ‘Is there something wrong?’ he asked

‘I’m no one-night-stand!’ she jerked out

Dark brows drew together. ‘Is that how you believe I see you?’

‘Well, isn’t it?’ she challenged. ‘You had this in mind from the first, didn’t you?’

‘I was under the impression that we both of us knew where we were heading,’ he returned levelly. ‘You gave me no cause to doubt it up until now.’

Leonie felt the warmth run up under skin. She sought refuge from the truth in anger. ‘You take too much for granted! I accepted an invitation to dinner. I didn’t realise I’d be called on to pay for it in kind.’

Vidal viewed her in silence for a moment or two, a deep down spark in his eyes the only indication of emotion. ‘I apologise for the error,’ he said at last. ‘I thought you a woman of the world.’

She’d gone out of her way to give that impression, Leonie had to admit. Anger gave way to shame for a moment. The fault was more hers than his.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said thickly. ‘I got a little carried away. I’m not in the habit of it, believe me.’

The expression that crossed the sculpted features was difficult to define. ‘You were right,’ he said. ‘I do take far too much for granted. Perhaps we might begin again?’

Leonie shook her head, ousting temptation before it could swamp her. ‘I really don’t see any point. We come from different worlds. I’ll stick to my own in future.’

‘Your choice, of course.’ Vidal indicated the open glass doors, face impassive now. ‘I’ll order you a taxi.’

Leonie went ahead of him back into the room, steeling herself to stay in control as she watched him pick up the telephone.

‘It will be waiting for you,’ he said, replacing the receiver. ‘Charged to my account.’

No doubt an arrangement of long standing, she thought. ‘I can pay for my own transport,’ she declared stiffly.

He inclined his head. ‘You must naturally do as you see fit.’

He came over to pick up the jacket she’d tossed over a chair-back before dinner, holding it out for her to slide her arms into. She did so as smoothly and swiftly as possible, vitally aware of his closeness, and of her hammering pulses. If she’d carried on the act a little longer they would have been in bed by now, with the question of right or wrong purely academic. It took everything she had to restrain the urge to throw caution aside.

Vidal saw her to the suite’s outer door. It was still impossible to read anything in the dark eyes as she met them for the final time.

‘It was an enjoyable day,’ he said.

‘But a disappointing night,’ she responded, determined not to give way to any last-minute wavering.

The smile was unexpected. ‘No matter. Sleep well, namorado.’

What the last meant, Leonie had no idea. Nor did she care to ask. She heard the door close as she made for the lifts.

Crossing the hotel lobby was an ordeal in itself. She was certain that the receptionists on duty were watching her every step. The taxi was waiting, as promised. She gave the address and slid inside, grateful for the closed glass partition precluding any conversation. It was going to be a costly ride all the way out to Northwood, but she had no intention of crying off from paying—even if it did probably mean that the driver would gain double fare.

It was close on midnight when she reached home. As anticipated, her offer of the metered charge wasn’t rejected. Her father came out from the study as she let herself in, his expression only too easy to read.

‘You didn’t go back to your office this afternoon,’ he said.

Leonie donned a smile, a light tone. ‘No. Vidal fancied a trip on the river. We had dinner together too.’

‘Just dinner?’

‘Just dinner,’ she assured him, smothering any resentment at the catechism. ‘He’s been the perfect gentleman.’

Stuart looked relieved. ‘Good. It isn’t that I don’t trust you to keep a steady head,’ he hastened to add. ‘I was just a little concerned that he might attempt to take advantage, that’s all.’

‘Well, he didn’t.’ She could say that with truth, considering the way he’d accepted the rejection. A first for him too, she didn’t doubt. ‘I’m going straight up,’ she declared, stifling a spurious yawn.

‘I’ll be up myself in a few minutes,’ Stuart returned.

Leonie kissed his cheek in passing, mounting the stairs feeling anything but happy. She’d probably turned down the experience of her life tonight, and for what? Hanging fire for Mr Right was all very well in theory, but what if he never turned up?

She spent a restless night, rising to a day that held little sparkle. The more she thought about the previous night, the more gauche she felt. She’d acted like some naïve teenager rather than a grown woman. Vidal must consider her totally immature.

Was it too late, she wondered, to contact him and apologise for giving the wrong impression? She had no idea what his itinerary was, but he’d still be in his suite at this hour. She wanted desperately to see him again. He was like no other man she had ever met. So what if he did have a reputation? At thirty-three, and single, he was hardly going to live like a monk. They’d been so well attuned until she’d come over all moral. Given the opportunity, the relationship might even have developed into something worthwhile.

She was still grappling with the temptation when she went down to breakfast. Her father was reading the morning newspaper.

‘I think you should see this,’ he said, handing a sheet over as she took her seat at the table. ‘Just in case there’s any doubt remaining.’

The photograph leapt out at her: Vidal, resplendent in evening dress, alongside a young and beautiful woman who looked vaguely familiar. According to the accompanying write-up Vidal had refused to accept responsibility for the child she’d recently given birth to, leaving her with a ruined modelling career, and destitute. She didn’t believe in abortion, she claimed plaintively. All she’d ever asked from him was support.

Leonie swallowed thickly on the lump in her throat. Knowing him for a philanderer was one thing; this was something else. What kind of man turned his back on his own child?

‘I wasn’t planning on seeing him again,’ she said.

‘Good.’ Stuart sounded relieved. ‘He’ll be gone in a couple of days, anyway. He never spends long in any place.’

His name wasn’t mentioned again.

Leonie did her best to cast him from her mind altogether—failing because her body refused to play ball. She could still feel the pressure of his lips on hers, the touch of his hands on her skin; still smell the emotive masculine scent of him. She despised herself for the weakness.

The day went by slowly. Emerging from the office at five-thirty to see Vidal leaning against the bonnet of a silver Mercedes was a shock that left her momentarily speechless. She could only gaze at him, aware of the interest aroused in those around her as he straightened.

‘I remembered you mentioning your company name,’ he said. ‘I need to speak with you.’

‘About what?’ she asked, recovering enough of her poise to achieve a reasonable control of her voice.

He had to be conscious of the spectators, but his attention never wavered from her face, an amber spark deep down in his eyes. ‘Not here.’

Not anywhere with you! she thought, but the words failed to materialise. ‘I really don’t see the point,’ she heard herself saying instead.

‘Indulge me,’ he said.

Leonie hesitated, reluctant to cause further speculation among the onlookers by walking away as her every instinct advised. They would all know who he was, of course. His face had been splashed across too many papers and screens for them not to know. She was going to be faced with a barrage of questions tomorrow, regardless, but it would call for less explanation if she simply went with him now.

He took the hesitation itself as agreement, turning back to open the front passenger door. Leonie slid into the leather seat, reaching automatically for the belt as Vidal moved round the front of the car to gain the driving seat.

‘You’re parked on double yellow lines,’ she said.

‘I know,’ he answered. ‘There are times when the law has to be broken.’

He forced a passage out into the traffic stream, ignoring the furious hooting. Leonie stole a glance at him, unable to do anything about the toe-curling impact. It was unfair that one man should be given so much in the way of looks.

What he could possibly have to say to her she had no idea. Another apology, perhaps, for taking too much for granted last night—even though he’d had some cause. It seemed unlikely, yet she could think of no other explanation for his looking her up. Not that it would make the least bit of difference to her view of him after reading what she’d read this morning.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked as he turned onto Park Lane.

‘My suite,’ he said, jerking her upright.

‘If you think…’

‘I’m not about to repeat last night’s error in judgement,’ he declared. ‘What I have to say to you requires privacy.’ He shook his head as she made to speak. ‘This is neither the time nor the place to discuss it.’

He was right about that, she had to admit. The evening traffic was heavy, road sense in short supply. A driver needed no distractions. She subsided again reluctantly, even more confused.

They made the square eventually. Vidal drove straight down into the hotel’s underground car park. Another couple joined them in the lift. Leonie saw the way the woman looked at Vidal, then back at her own partner, as if comparing the two. Not that there was any comparison.

The other two got out at the fourth floor, leaving them to ascend to the fifth in a silence Leonie had no intention of being the first to break. She would listen to whatever it was he had to say, but he wasn’t going to sway her opinion of him. Certainly not after that morning’s revelations.

It was gone six-thirty by her watch when they reached the suite. She’d told her father she’d be going straight home tonight, though she rarely made it before seven. She’d give him a ring as soon as she got out of here, she promised herself. He tended to worry if she failed to put in an appearance when she’d said she would, imagining all kinds of mishaps. A leftover from her childhood days.

Vidal invited her to take a seat, lifting his shoulders in a philosophical shrug when she declined. Dressed today in trousers and a fine white cotton sweater, dark hair showing a hint of curl in its thickness, he was achingly alluring. Leonie steeled herself to stay on top of the emotions he still aroused in her.

‘So?’ she said.

A smile touched his lips as he surveyed her. ‘You remind me of a stag at bay,’ he said. ‘Ready to do me damage should I make one false move. You need have no fear. I’m willing to wait.’

Green eyes fired a whole shower of sparks. ‘You’ll be wasting your time!’

‘It’s mine to waste,’ he returned. ‘Not that I intend a lengthy engagement.’

The wind taken completely out of her sails, Leonie gazed at him blankly. ‘What are you talking about?’

‘Our marriage,’ he said. ‘I want you to be my wife.’

Leonie knew a sudden urge to laugh. Pure hysteria, she thought dazedly. From last night to this was too much of a jump for her mind to make.

‘What kind of game are you playing now?’ she got out.

‘I’m not in the habit of playing games,’ he said. ‘Certainly not of this nature. I’ve waited a long time to meet a woman I could contemplate spending my life with. A woman who values herself enough to overcome her more basic urges. You wanted me last night in exactly the same way that I wanted you, but you refused to give way. You never have, have you?’

Leonie felt her face flame. ‘That’s none of your business!’

Vidal smiled and shook his head. ‘It’s very much my business. My wife must have known no other man. It’s one Dos Santos tradition I’ve no quarrel with. I’d prefer a quiet wedding. And as soon as can be managed.’ The dark eyes acquired a tawny spark again as he studied her. ‘I found last night frustrating enough.’

Leonie found her voice, amazed by its steadiness. ‘Does the word love figure in your vocabulary at all?’

‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Though perhaps not the “at first sight” kind written about in books. The real kind takes time and knowledge to develop.’

He paused, a faint line appearing between his brows as he waited for some response from her. ‘Do you have nothing to say to me?’

She drew a deep shuddery breath, fighting a sudden mad inclination to simply go along with it all. ‘I’ve got plenty to say,’ she forced out. ‘I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on earth!’

The shock that sprang in his face would have been laughable if she’d felt at all like laughing. The possibility of rejection had obviously never occurred to him. Not so surprising, she supposed, considering his status as one of Europe’s most eligible bachelors, but that in no way excused his sheer arrogance.

The anger sweeping her was as much a defence against any lingering doubts as an expression of repulsion. She drew herself up to her full height, fists clenched at her sides, eyes scornful. ‘If you want the truth, I’d as soon consort with a worm than a womanising, baby-abandoning low-life like you! I must have been mad to let you anywhere near me to start with. Talk about scraping the barrel!’

She stopped there, apprehension taking over at the look in his eyes. Danger shimmered in the air between them.

He turned abruptly and made for the drinks cabinet, pulling down the shelf with control to reach for glass and bottle. The whisky he poured was at least a double measure. He tossed it back in a single gulp, standing there with his back to her, tension in every line of his body.

‘I think you’d better leave,’ he said.

For a moment she hesitated, ashamed of the sheer viciousness of her attack. It took the memory of the newspaper item to drive all regret from her mind. Somewhere out there was a woman caring for his child. Maybe not the only one, for all she knew. He merited no apology.

He was still standing there when she closed the door on him.

It hadn’t been true, Leonie reflected painfully, coming back to the present. Not that part, at any rate. The woman had just been trying it on, losing her case when a blood test proved that the baby couldn’t be his. Not that it made him any less of a rake.

The ultimatum he’d just presented her with was still hard to take in. No marriage contracted under such circumstances could ever become meaningful. He would be condemning them both to a loveless union simply to salve his pride. He had to see how utterly useless a gesture it would be.

He was seated on one of the sofas, a drink to hand, when she finally nerved herself to go through. He watched her expressionlessly as she moved towards him.

‘There has to be some other way of handling this,’ she said. ‘Why would you want a wife who hates you?’

‘You don’t hate me,’ he declared without undue emphasis. ‘You feel the way you’ve always felt about me. The same way I feel about you. We’re meant to be together. If this is the only way of achieving that, then so be it.’

‘Forsaking all others?’ she asked. ‘Or are Dos Santos wives expected to turn a blind eye?’

The shrug was brief. ‘A matter of learning to trust.’

‘Trust you!’ She put every ounce of derision she could muster into the words. ‘That will be the day!’

Vidal shrugged again. ‘Time will tell.’ He paused, lifting a questioning eyebrow. ‘Do I take it we have an agreement?’

‘Do I have any choice?’ she asked bitterly.

‘Not if you want your father to keep his job.’

Leonie sat down heavily in the nearby chair, mind grappling with the implications. ‘What am I supposed to tell him?’

‘That’s entirely up to you,’ he responded. ‘The truth, if you like. I’d doubt it would make any difference.’

Her head lifted, eyes blazing green fire. ‘Yes, it would! He’d never go along with it!’

‘Then you’ll simply have to convince him that it’s what you want. You could say, for instance, that I asked you to marry me two years ago but you weren’t ready then to take the step. You’ve spent the last two years regretting your decision, and are happy to be given a second chance.’

‘He’d never believe it!’

‘Why not? He was aware of the attraction that flared between us the moment we met.’

Leonie gave a short laugh. ‘He’d hardly consider that enough to precipitate an offer of marriage from you!’

‘How could he know what my reaction would be? We come from different cultures.’

There was never a truer word, Leonie reflected, searching his face for some sign, however slight, of vulnerability. A hopeless task, of course. Vidal had no weak spots. Many women would be over the moon to have the opportunity she was being offered. If she were totally honest about it, the physical attraction he still held for her made the decision a little less fraught. It was doubtful if the marriage would be long term, anyway.

‘You win,’ she said thickly.

There was no reaction that she could perceive in the dark eyes. ‘I’ll begin arrangements tomorrow. I’m due in Munich the day after, but I’ll curtail the visit as much as is possible. We can be married three weeks from now, and travel to Lisbon immediately after.’

Leonie felt her heart jerk. Her expression drew an ironic smile.

‘You didn’t imagine I’d be content to set up a permanent home here?’

She hadn’t got that far, she acknowledged helplessly. ‘It can’t possibly be as quick as that,’ she declared, looking for any delaying tactic. ‘There’s my job, for one thing.’

‘Tell them you’re leaving,’ came the uncompromising reply. ‘If there’s any financial penalty it will be taken care of. I won’t wait longer than three weeks for you. The strain is already telling on me.’

‘I doubt if you’ll have any difficulty easing it,’ she said with purpose.

He made no perceptible movement, yet his posture somehow hardened. ‘There will be no others.’

And pigs might fly! she reflected. One woman was never going to be enough for him, even over a limited period. Especially one whose sexual experience was nil!

Not that she’d stay that way for long, came the thought, sending a sudden frisson down her spine.

‘If we’re waiting till after the marriage, I assume I’m free to go now?’ she said, blanking out any dissenting voices.

For a moment he seemed on the verge of disputing that assumption, then he inclined his head. ‘For now. You can tell your father the news tonight, if you wish—or you can wait until the morning and we can tell him together.’

‘You mean to come to the house?’

The smile was dry. ‘I think your father and I have some matters to discuss before he returns to his job. I’ll arrange a taxi for you.’

He got to his feet, heading for the telephone. Leonie watched him with a sense of déjà vu. Just what she was going to tell her father, she had no idea. How could she possibly convince him that her decision to marry a man she hadn’t even seen for two years had nothing to do with his own predicament?

It was a long and fraught journey back to Northwood. Relief held the upper hand for a moment or two when she arrived home to find her father had already retired for the night, though the problem was going to be no less in the morning. Somehow or other she had to find the right words before Vidal’s arrival.

It was still difficult to believe it was all really happening. She kept thinking she was going to wake up any minute and find the whole thing was a bad dream. She supposed she should be grateful that Vidal actually wanted to marry her, when he might simply have demanded she become his mistress for however long he chose.

None of which helped her sleep well. She rose heavy-eyed at seven, still with no clear idea of how she was going to give her father the news. He was already at breakfast when she finally went down, although not eating a great deal, she noted.

‘I thought you were staying out last night,’ he said. ‘You must have been late getting in.’

‘Fairly,’ Leonie agreed. The only way, she decided resignedly, was to come right out with it. ‘I didn’t actually tell you the truth about where I was going last night,’ she said. ‘I went to see Vidal again. He’ll be coming here this morning to see you.’

Stuart looked at her uncertainly, obviously struck by something in her tone. ‘To tell me what?’

‘That you can keep your job.’ She drew a steadying breath. ‘And to tell you we’re going to be married.’

Thunderstruck was too mild a word for the expression on her father’s face. ‘You’re what?’ he got out.

‘I know it must come as a shock to you,’ she said, fighting to maintain an element of composure, ‘though it isn’t as out of the blue as it must seem. He actually asked me two years ago. I turned him down that time, but I’ve always regretted it.’

‘Two years ago?’ Stuart Baxter looked even more bewildered. ‘But you only met him the once!’

‘Twice,’ Leonie corrected, aware of how crazy it all sounded. ‘He proposed the day after we met.’ She forced a smile. ‘I felt much the same way you’re feeling now. That it wasn’t possible for anyone to make a decision like that so quickly. Especially a man like Vidal. I didn’t have the courage to go with what I felt for him then. What I still feel for him.’

Her father gazed at her in silence for a lengthy moment, confusion giving way to perturbation. ‘You’re saying you’re in love with him?’

Leonie held his gaze, willing herself to reveal no uncertainty. ‘Yes.’

There was another pause, another change of expression, this time to one of suspicion. ‘Are you doing this for me?’

Her laugh sounded hollow even to her own ears. ‘Dad, much as I love you, I couldn’t contemplate tying myself to a man I had no feelings for. What you did brought us together again, that’s all. I want to marry him. More than anything!’

‘He’s no good for you, pet!’ It was a cry from the heart. ‘You know what kind of man he is!’

‘I know what kind of man he’s made out to be,’ she returned. ‘As a bachelor, he’s been entitled to play the field. That’s not to say he’ll continue doing it after marriage.’

‘Leopards don’t change their spots. I know it’s a cliché, but it’s based on fact. I can’t believe you’re really serious about this!’

‘I am,’ she assured him. ‘Very serious. I want you to be happy for me, Dad. Happy for us both.’

‘I’m trying,’ he said. ‘I’m really trying. I just find it—’ He broke off, shaking his head. ‘When were you thinking of?’

Leonie drew another deep breath. ‘Within three weeks. And quietly. Vidal doesn’t want any publicity.’

‘Three weeks!’

Get it all over in one go, she thought, steeling herself. ‘We’ll be living in Portugal, of course. Vidal’s main home is in Sintra, near Lisbon. We’re not planning on a honeymoon.’ She certainly wasn’t. ‘We’ll be going straight there afterwards.’

‘You planned all this last night?’ Stuart both looked and sounded at a total loss.’

‘That’s right.’ Leonie let herself relax a little. The worst was over. She attempted a smile, a lighter tone of voice. ‘Vidal doesn’t hang about.’

‘Not in any sphere, apparently. What time will he be here?’

‘I’m not sure,’ she hedged. ‘Definitely this morning.’

‘What about your job?’

‘I’ll be leaving, naturally.’

‘Just like that?’

Her shrug was meant to convey a wry acknowledgement. ‘Needs must, I’m afraid.’

‘Because Vidal says so?’ Stuart viewed her in perplexity. ‘Are you going to let him rule your whole life?’

‘It would be a bit far to commute from Lisbon,’ Leonie pointed out, trying to make a joke of it. ‘Anyway, I’m hardly going to need a job. I’m marrying a multimillionaire.’

‘That isn’t you talking,’ he protested.

‘It’s me talking nonsense,’ she responded, rueing the comment. ‘I’d marry Vidal if he didn’t have a penny to his name! I’ll be really sorry to leave you on your own,’ she added truthfully, ‘but it had to happen some time. Anyway, Portugal isn’t all that far away. We’ll be able to visit both ways.’

‘Of course.’ The agreement was subdued, his attitude one of unwilling resignation.

Leonie stretched a hand across the table to cover one of his, doing her best not to give way to the temptation to blurt out the truth. ‘I know it’s a shock, Dad, but I do know what I’m doing.’

‘I hope so,’ he said. ‘I really do hope so.’ He pushed back his chair and got to his feet. ‘I’ll be in the study.’

She let him go without protest. He needed time on his own to come to terms with it all. She needed it herself, if it came to that. By the time Vidal arrived she had to be in a frame of mind to go along with anything and everything he said.

The following couple of hours went by slowly. With ten o’clock come and gone, she began to wonder if he’d changed his mind about the whole thing. The sound of a car drawing into the drive a little before eleven dispelled that notion. A Mercedes again, she noted from the drawing room window. The latest model no doubt.

She went to open the door before he could ring the bell, unable to deny the customary tug on her stomach muscles as she viewed the decisive features.

‘Dad’s waiting for you in the study,’ she said without preamble. ‘I told him what to expect.’

‘Leaving little to discuss,’ Vidal responded dryly. ‘Five minutes should be enough to say what I have to say.’

‘You’re going to read him the Riot Act again, I suppose?’ she said, closing the door again.

Vidal gave a short laugh. ‘I intend him to understand that our marriage buys him no further immunity, yes.’

‘I’m sure he already knows that.’ Leonie was hard put to it to keep a civil tone. ‘He’s facing a difficult time all round. I’d be grateful if you didn’t lean on him too hard.’

Vidal made no reply. Wearing a dark grey suit today, he looked every inch the hard-headed businessman. She bit back any further appeal, tapping lightly on the study door before opening it.

‘Vidal’s here, Dad.’

She left them to it, going to the kitchen to make coffee. There was no sound from the study when she went back along the hall with the tray. Five minutes, Vidal had said, but it was already fifteen. What they could be talking about she couldn’t imagine.

Another five minutes went by before the two men put in an appearance. Stuart looked subdued, Vidal impassive.

‘I’ve made the arrangements for Monday three weeks from now,’ said the latter. ‘I’ll be travelling to Munich this afternoon in order to be through with business matters by then.’

Giving her three whole weeks to rearrange her life, thought Leonie sardonically. She kept both expression and voice under strict control. ‘I’d have thought the register office would have been pretty heavily booked this time of year.’

Vidal smiled, seemingly at ease. ‘I was offered a cancellation. Did you inform your employers?’

‘Not yet,’ she admitted. ‘I can’t do it over the phone. I’ll go in this afternoon.’

Stuart started to say something, breaking off with a helpless little gesture as if in recognition of the futility. ‘It’s going to be very short notice for your family,’ he observed. ‘Will any of them be attending the wedding?’

‘It’s doubtful,’ Vidal replied smoothly. ‘They do little travelling. We’ll visit them at the first opportunity, of course. The ceremony will be at ten o’clock. I have reservations on a flight from Heathrow at four.’

‘So soon!’

The shrug was brief. ‘I see no reason to linger. Naturally you’ll be welcome to visit any time you wish.’

‘Thanks.’ The older man managed to keep his tone from reflecting any sarcasm.

Vidal drained his coffee cup, setting it down again as he rose. ‘I have to go. You’ll see me to the door, Leonie.’

It was more of a statement than a request, and with her father looking on she was in no position to object. She kept a smile pinned to her lips as she accompanied him from the room, losing it only when they were out of both sight and sound.

‘Was it really necessary to be quite so cavalier?’ she asked with some asperity, drawing an ironic glance.

‘You think me inconsiderate where your father’s concerned?’

She bit her lip. ‘A consideration that comes at a price.’

‘True.’ His tone had softened. ‘You find it such a high price to pay?’

Leonie met his eyes, wishing she could penetrate the unfathomable darkness. ‘I suppose many would consider it no price at all for what I’ll be gaining.’

‘I believe many would,’ he agreed. ‘I don’t claim any mitigating factors. I used the situation to my own ends. Just don’t try pretending you feel nothing at all for me. It may be no more than a physical reaction at present, but you’ve yet to know me in any depth.’

He drew her to him to kiss her with an ardour that elicited an involuntary response. She had to stop herself from clinging to him when he finally lifted his head.

‘You see,’ he murmured, ‘there are compensations.’

Of a kind, she thought hollowly, watching him walk to the car.