The Innocent and the Playboy Page 16

  It was not a noise. Not a real noise. Not like voices in the corridor or tyres on the wet roads outside. Not even like a creaking door. It was more like a breath, as if some animal had managed to get into her room without her noticing.

  Rachel was not afraid. But she was intrigued. She struggled up onto her elbow, listening.

  Nothing.

  But then her eyes accustomed themselves to the deep shadows in the room. She swivelled, inspecting the room. Door to the corridor. Big landscape on the wall. The picture was indistinguishable in the dark but the moonlight glinted off its protective glass, throwing off strange reflections. For a moment they looked almost like a man’s shadow.

  Rachel dismissed the fancy, letting her eyes travel on. Bathroom. Door to the adjoining room. Dressing table. Chair. Heavy curtains pulled back to frame the night skyline. And she saw him.

  He was standing behind the chair, as still as the un-stirring curtains. As still as if he were the real occupant and somebody else the intruder. Now that she looked, Rachel could see that the door to the adjoining room was open behind him.

  She stayed there, poised on her elbow, transfixed. She knew she ought to be frightened. She knew she was not.

  She also realised that she knew who it was.

  Slowly, she sat up. The dark silhouette made no move but she knew he had seen her movement. Her heart began to patter lightly, very fast, somewhere in the region of her throat.

  She thought, I don’t believe this.

  The dark figure came towards her. He was a broad-shouldered outline against the uncurtained window. It was like a dream. A dream she had had many times, Rachel thought now—though she had never admitted it. There was no whirring ceiling fan, no distant hush and lull of the ocean, no cicadas. But everything else was familiar—wholly and heartbreakingly familiar.

  He shrugged off his jacket. It fell to the floor. Revealed, his open-necked shirt gleamed white in the moonlight. That, too, was familiar. Rachel said nothing. She sank back among the pillows, watching.

  She knew that he was looking at her. He unlinked his cuffs and pulled the shirt over his head, letting it fall unheeded to the floor. A faint fragrance reached her. It spoke of limes and the open air. Rachel swallowed. Suddenly it was suffocatingly difficult to breathe. She put a hand to her throat. He stopped, standing very still for a moment.

  ‘Don’t,’ he said softly. ‘You’re not frightened of me.’

  His silence commanded an answer. Rachel swallowed again.

  ‘No,’ she agreed at last. It was a whisper, no more.

  He reached down and took her hand away. She could feel in the darkness that he never took his eyes from her. He bent and set his lips very gently to the vulnerable place at the base of her throat where her pulse raced. A wild sensation swept through her.

  It was like fire. Gasping, Rachel fell back. Her throat arched under his touch. Her hands reached for him. She was making small, desperate sounds that shocked some remote part of her brain. It was not the part that was in control.

  Her unpractised hands tore at unfamiliar zips and fastenings, fumbling, impatient. He laughed a little and helped her. His breathing was nearly as ragged as her own.

  And then he rid her of her nightdress with a speed that was not unpractised at all. It was a small thing—she barely noticed it in the headlong rush to strip away every last covering—but just for a moment she must have hesitated. He stopped as if she had stabbed him.

  ‘No,’ he said with deadly softness.

  Rachel was bewildered. The sensation of skin against skin was so exquisite that she could hardly bear it. She did not know why he had stilled.

  ‘What is it?’ Her voice was slurred, almost unrecognisable.

  ‘No more holding out.’

  He was beside her, leaning over her, one hand in her hair. She moved her head restlessly and his hand tightened.

  ‘No more.’

  ‘I’m not holding out.’ She sounded frantic, and very young all of a sudden. ‘I’m not.’

  She was almost faint with the intensity of her need. He must know that, with all that experience of his. Even in her extremity, the distant thought made her wince.

  It seemed he did. He bent his head and kissed one lifting nipple slowly. Rachel cried out.

  ‘Maybe not here.’ She thought she could feel him smiling against the sensitised skin. His mouth drifted with agonising slowness to her other breast. She moaned. ‘Or here.’

  He reared up and looked down at her, taking her by surprise. Her eyes flew open. In the room’s shadows his eyes were glittering. He touched her temple.

  ‘But in there.’ His voice was harsh. ‘You’re not giving an inch in there, are you?’

  ‘What do you want me to give?’ she whispered.

  He almost shook her. ‘Tell me. Tell me.’

  So he wanted the complete surrender, in form, spelled out loud so that she could never pretend to forget again. Rachel thought she would die of shame. She shut her eyes tight. ‘I want you.’

  There, that would do, wouldn’t it? That had to be what he wanted. It was the victory he had sought since the first moment he’d realised who she was on Monday.

  It seemed it was not enough. He still held off from her.

  ‘Tell me the truth. The whole truth. What happened all those years ago. Why.’

  There was no escape. Despising herself, Rachel gave him the capitulation she knew he wanted.

  ‘I always wanted you. In the Villa Azul. Afterwards. You said I did and you were right. I—never stopped wanting you.’

  ‘Even when you ran out on me?’

  She thought her heart would break. ‘Even when I left,’ she said steadily.

  He bent his head. She thought he was going to kiss her mouth at last, but he was burying his face in her hair. His hands were unsteady.

  ‘God, why did we waste so much time?’ he said hoarsely.

  He did kiss her then. For a moment she was startled. He kissed her almost with desperation. But then, twining herself round him, Rachel thought, How could I have held out for so long? She was wrought to fever pitch, responding to his every touch, every murmur, almost every pulse beat.

  Just for a moment he paused, cupping her face between his hands. She was breathing hard but he stilled her.

  ‘We’re supposed to be responsible adults.’ There was that unmistakable note of laughter in his voice. He groped for his jacket and retrieved a small packet. He dropped it into her hand. ‘Though you almost make me forget.’

  Rachel’s heart contracted. Then memory or instinct took over entirely. She stopped thinking at all.

  Later they lay quiet, her head on his chest. It rose and fell with his quiet breathing. She thought he was asleep. His hand was curved round her shoulder as if he was saying, She is mine.

  She should have resented that, Rachel thought drowsily, but she did not. She was touched to the heart by that small gesture of possession. Moved by something she did not understand, she kissed his chest quickly, shyly. As she drifted into sleep she was happier than she had ever been in her life.

  When she woke it was different—altogether different. Riccardo was dressed and looking out of the window. The world beyond the window was grey with morning rain. Inside the atmosphere was almost as chilly.

  Rachel struggled to full wakefulness, rubbing her eyes. ‘What is it?’

  He did not look at her. ‘What is Torrance to you?’

  ‘Colin?’ Rachel blinked.

  ‘The man you were having dinner with last night.’

  ‘Why?’

  He said with apparent irrelevance, ‘You wouldn’t have dinner with me.’

  Rachel stared at his stiff back. ‘What?’

  ‘Do you know what you looked like?’

  She did not answer. He did not seem to expect her to. He swung round.

  ‘Lovers. That’s what you looked like. I thought—But I was obviously wrong. Is he your lover, Rachel?’

  She was so taken aback that she could
not think of a thing to say. Riccardo seemed to take her silence for agreement. He laughed harshly.

  ‘Has anyone ever known what they were getting in you, I wonder?’

  Rachel shook her head, bewildered. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Colin Torrance pushed a message under your door last night. Presumably when you and I were making love.’

  Rachel winced. Riccardo was crumpling a piece of paper in his hand. He lobbed it across the room savagely.

  ‘Message?’

  ‘He wants to make sure you’ll be discreet,’ Riccardo told her. His voice was soft but it sounded like poison.

  Rachel gasped.

  ‘Look, you’ve got this all wrong,’ she said, reaching out a pleading hand. ‘Last night it was work. He sounded off about our boss. He just wants to make sure that I won’t spill the beans when I get back to London.’ Her voice rose on a note of desperation. ‘He’s a colleague, that’s all.’

  ‘You mean, just like I am?’ Riccardo said. His smile was like a slap in the face.

  Rachel’s hand fell. She was growing angry.

  She said with precision, ‘I don’t know what you are. Or what you think you’re doing here. Are you going to tell me?’

  He showed his teeth. ‘I told you. Finishing unfinished business. And I’m the man you ran out on.’

  ‘The man I—?’ She looked round the room, on an outward puff of disbelief. ‘You mean all those years ago? After the Villa Azul? I ran out on you?’

  He said harshly, ‘You knew where to find me. If you wanted to. I didn’t know where to start’

  ‘You could have found out. Anders knew. Well, he could have asked Judy. At least...’ Rachel remembered her father’s frozen silence, the complete breakdown of communication.

  ‘Judy said you’d moved out. So did your father. I concluded you wouldn’t talk to me.’

  Rachel was confounded. She had blamed him, hated him for not finding her. It had never occurred to her that he could have looked without success.

  ‘I came to London. Then my uncle had his heart attack. The company went into a tail-spin. I had to deal with it. I went back to New York but I hired a detective. Another blank. Your father sent him away too. There were no records of you anywhere—no credit cards, no employment references.’ His voice grew bitter suddenly. ‘Of course, I didn’t realise how young you were. I never thought of telling him to tour the schools.’

  Rachel said numbly, ‘I’d left school. I was staying with friends all through the summer. I never went to university. I got a live-in job... oh, October some time.’

  ‘The detective just sent me a nil report. He said there was no point in going on. By that time he must have thought I was chasing a woman who didn’t want anything to do with me, hounding her against her will’

  ‘No.’ It was a strangled protest. She leaned forward. There was a moment of absolute silence. Now—now—it seemed they were telling each other the truth at last.

  ‘So did I,’ he said levelly.

  It hung in the air, waiting for an answer. Rachel moistened her lips. This had to be the most important answer of her life.

  The telephone by her bed rang shrilly. She jumped. Riccardo raised his head. His eyes were hard. The moment of possible understanding had gone as if it had never been.

  ‘If that’s Torrance, get rid of him,’ he said curtly.

  But it was not Colin Torrance. It was Hugh. There had been an all-night party. The neighbours had complained to the police about the noise. And Alexandra had run off with Theo Judd.

  CHAPTER TEN

  RICCARDO took charge. While Rachel packed and cancelled her meeting he organised their journey. The first flight available was late afternoon.

  ‘Then hire a plane,’ he told his assistant curtly.

  They flew back on a ten-seater executive jet. Rachel tried to thank him. He shrugged.

  ‘I take it this is the boyfriend who makes you uneasy.’

  ‘How did you know that?’

  He gave a wintry smile. ‘I listen when you talk to me. It doesn’t happen so often.’

  Which silenced Rachel.

  The chauffeur, whom she recognised, met them at the airport. Riccardo handed her into the car and then went round and got in beside her. Rachel was startled.

  ‘There’s no need—’ she began.

  ‘Relax. You should know by now I’m not into kidnapping,’ he said drily.

  ‘But—’

  ‘You’re an independent woman and you can handle anything that hits you,’ he supplied. ‘I know. But this time you don’t need to.’

  Rachel stared. As if he could not help himself, he buffed her chin lightly. He was smiling, though it did not warm his eyes.

  ‘Why don’t you just lie back and enjoy?’

  She had no answer.

  When they got there, the house was a shambles. Not a room was unscathed. Rachel looked round the ruined hallway and sat down.

  ‘Some party,’ said Riccardo, his brows lifting.

  Hugh came out of the kitchen. His face was worried. Rachel looked at him. ‘What on earth happened?’

  Hugh shuffled uncomfortably. ‘The girls were all doing some project for school. It looked all right. I—or—went to a movie.’

  ‘All night?’ exclaimed Rachel.

  Hugh looked even more uncomfortable. Riccardo touched her shoulder.

  ‘I don’t suppose he went alone. Then afterwards they went on somewhere to talk about the movie. Right?’ he suggested in a tone of unholy amusement.

  ‘Right.’ Hugh nodded, relieved.

  ‘And when he got back the party was in full swing.’

  ‘Well—er—no. It was over. The—or—police...’

  Rachel moaned. ‘We were raided by the police?’

  ‘It wasn’t that bad,’ Hugh hastened to assure her. ‘Not raided. Just some neighbours complaining about the noise. When the Old Bill turned up, Theo took off.’

  ‘Taking Lexy with him?’

  Hugh looked guilty. ‘No. That was later. I was pretty wound up when I found out what had been going on. We had a row. She said she was going to Theo and steamed out.’

  Rachel stared at him, appalled.

  ‘That was when I called you,’ he finished defensively.

  ‘Oh, Lord.’ She did not know what to do. She could not think straight. She put her hands to her face. It was cold. ‘What exactly did she say?’

  Riccardo put both hands on her shoulders. The warmth of his palms felt as if it could put life into her shivering frame. Hardly knowing what she did, she put her head on one side and rubbed her cheek against the back of his hand. Briefly, his fingers tightened so hard that she felt as if he had taken hold of her bones.

  But all he said was, ‘Do you know where she went?’

  Hugh was startled. ‘Theo—’

  ‘Bravado,’ pointed out Riccardo. ‘Never underestimate bravado. Have you actually checked?’

  Hugh had not. Rachel got up.

  ‘Gilly,’ she said.

  But Alexandra was not staying with her friend. Susanna was not at school after the night’s excesses, however, and she knew Theo’s address. She sounded worried at the thought that Alexandra might be with him there. Rachel wrote down the address, trying not to panic. When she rang off, Riccardo took the paper from her.

  ‘I’ll go.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I bet she isn’t there. She’s probably sulking in a diner somewhere, writing her entrance speech. You stay here and wait for her. If by some chance she is there, she’ll come back with me,’ he said with superb arrogance.

  Rachel found she did not doubt him.

  He went. She shook herself and took charge of her life again. As a first step she sent Hugh to school with a note to excuse his lateness. Then she telephoned her secretary.

  ‘No problem,’ Mandy said. ‘Colin’s been in touch. He said it was a real help to talk things through with you. Even though you weren’t there, he took a tough
line this morning. The board have agreed. He says you don’t need to go back unless you want to.’

  ‘Great,’ said Rachel, looking ruefully at the chaos that was her sitting room. ‘I’ll pass. Give him my congratulations. I won’t be in until tomorrow. You can get me at home if you want me.’

  She changed into her oldest clothes and set about restoring the house to normal. She was just finishing the stairs when she heard the sound of an engine. She straightened. The doorbell rang imperatively. She almost fell in her eagerness to reach it.

  Riccardo was standing there, holding onto a wildly protesting Alexandra. True to his prediction, he had brought her home. Rachel was so thankful that she just flung her arms round her in a bear hug. Her stepdaughter clung.

  Riccardo moved them in from the doorstep and closed the door behind them.

  ‘She is unharmed,’ he said to Rachel over the top of the weeping girl’s head.

  “Thank God.’ She brushed the lacquered spikes of hair back. ‘Oh, Lexy. What a fright you gave us.’

  But Alexandra’s tears were due to rage and affronted dignity, not guilt. She flung herself out of Rachel’s arms and retreated to the wall. Her face was streaked with the remains of last night’s make-up. She was in a tearing temper.

  ‘Then it must be for the first time in your life,’ she spat. ‘You never notice what I’m doing except to spoil things.’

  ‘Thafs not true—’

  ‘Yes, it is. I talk and talk and talk and you just don’t listen to me.’

  Rachel was strongly moved to shout back in the same vein. She repressed it. Instead she sat down and folded her hands quietly in her lap.

  ‘I’m listening now.’

  Alexandra looked disgusted, and very young. ‘Don’t tell me—the thought police kick in.’ She sounded young too. ‘A final appeal to my conscience?’

  Rachel shook her head. ‘No appeal to anything.’

  The front door banged and Hugh burst in. He was looking embarrassed and worried. But most of all he was just plain furious.

  ‘You’re back are you, you pinhead. Do you know the trouble you’ve caused?’

  Rachel said warningly, ‘Hugh—’

  ‘Well, at least I—’

  ‘Lexy—’