Deceptive Passion Read online

  It was odd, thought Diana, how she could organise a solitary professional and social life without difficulty but was reduced to despair by the prospect of holidaying alone. Maybe she wasn't as strong as she thought yet.

  But she would be, she promised herself. After all she had a life to live. She would have to shake off Miles's overwhelming shadow and find more than work to fill her days. He had.

  Miles's friends seemed to expect him to marry Susie as soon as he and Diana divorced—as he probably should have done years ago. Her eyes felt gritty. The car jolted

  as it turned a particularly savage corner. Diana swore and then stopped, silenced by the vista before her.

  It was the castle: a grim Venetian fortress, dark to the point of unreality against the splendid glow of sea and sky. Diana drew a long, appreciative breath.

  Beautiful, yes, and with a near-vertical approach road. Diana laughed softly. Two years ago she wouldn't have contemplated driving up that suicidal road. At least Miles's defection had taught her to do things she was afraid of. Carefully she put the car into second gear and gunned the accelerator.

  It went up the incline like a slightly unsteady bullet and came to rest—just—under an olive tree in the deeply shadowed courtyard. Miles's childhood home. There was no one about.

  Diana crossed her arms on the steering-wheel and leaned her forehead against them. For no reason at all she felt like crying.

  A woman came out of a small arched doorway. Diana sat up at once, confused. But it wasn't Susie, cool and polished, in one of her Paris outfits. It was a short square woman with greying dark hair and heavy brows.

  `Mrs Tabard?' she asked in a heavy accent.

  Diana got swiftly out of the car.

  `Yes. I made good time.' She looked up at the forbidding walls.

  The woman smiled and gestured to herself. 'Maria.'

  She spoke at length. Diana's Greek gave out after the greetings. It was possible that Maria wanted her to have a meal.

  `All I want,' Diana said slowly and with feeling, 'is a rest.'

  Maria stared. A little desperately, Diana put her hands together and rested her cheek against them, making

  snoring noises. Maria's face broke into a beam of delighted comprehension.

  Hypno,' she said, as far as Diana could make out.

  There was no misunderstanding the imperative wave with which she gestured to Diana to follow her, however. She seized the overnight bag from the passenger seat and set off across the courtyard into the cool darkness of stone walls and winding stairs.

  Diana was soon lost. Eventually they came to a wide corridor with windows on one side and heavy unpolished wooden doors on the other. Maria flung back one of them.

  `Bed,' she said proudly.

  Over her shoulder Diana had a brief impression of a tall room with a profusion of floor-to-ceiling Venetian mirrors. She also detected a four-poster, a petit point Louis-Quatorze chair and a monstrous Victorian dressing-table. Diana blinked.

  Maria, she saw, was unimpressed by this costly jumble. She closed the door smartly and took her to the next door in the corridor. She opened it with a flourish. This was clearly the more impressive room in Maria's estimation.

  `Bath.'

  It was indeed. It was a room of immense proportions, fully as big as the bedroom next door, with a brass Edwardian shower stall at one end and a bath as big as a boat on huge brass claw feet in the middle of the floor. In an attempt to reduce the air of vastness, presumably, someone had surrounded it with a profusion of tables, chairs and mirrors. There was even a quilted bathrobe hanging on the door that led to the bedroom, presumably for passing guests.

  Diana swallowed. Since she had entered her new profession she had become something of an expert in period bathrooms, and this was unique in her experience.

  `Bath,' repeated Maria, a little impatiently.

  `So I see,' Diana agreed faintly. 'I mean, thank you.'

  Putting down Diana's overnight bag on a gilt chair, Maria swung energetically at a heavy brass lever sprouting from the edge of the bath. Water gushed from the central tap. It looked, thought Diana, like one of the water spouts from Notre Dame. Steam rose.

  `Hot,' said Maria unnecessarily.

  She adjusted the temperature with a number of expert tweaks. Then, under Diana's bemused eyes, she took a flagon the size of a stage prop from one of the glass-topped tables and swirled a liberal amount of oil into the water. A smell of white lilac infused the steam. Maria turned off the tap. Then, pointing to a pile of fluffy towels on a tapestry chair, she left.

  Diana began to laugh. Maria was almost certainly right. She was hot and stiff and dusty. The scented water looked wonderful. Her long-delayed sleep could wait another ten minutes.

  She stripped off her cotton jeans and shirt and let them fall to the floor. Her underwear was silk, beautifully cut and expensive, severely bare of the lace or bows she had favoured in the days when she had bought it as much for Miles's pleasure as her own. Not, she thought ruefully, that he had ever shown any signs of noticing. All he had ever wanted was to rid her of the delicate garments as swiftly as possible.

  `Stop thinking about him,' she said aloud, sitting down in the middle of the 'boat' with a distinct splash.

  She soaked for as long as she dared. It would be all too easy to fall asleep, she knew. She rotated her shoulders under the scented water, feeling the stiffness

  dissolve. A not unpleasant sense of unreality began to invade her. She got out at last, dreamily, wrapped herself in one of the large towels and padded through the connecting door into the bedroom she had been shown.

  The shuttered darkness was cool. Diana drifted pleasurably to the curtained bed—and stopped dead. All her sense of well-being dropped from her abruptly.

  For there was someone lying under the woven coverlet, one bare brown shoulder visible. He was face-down, a tanned arm flung up on the pillow round his sleeping head. The muscles were impressive and the tan the colour of fresh toast. He looked like a resting runner. He stirred, murmuring.

  Diana's mouth went dry. Her hands closed convulsively on the knot she had made of the towel at her breasts. She took a step backwards.

  He turned his face on the pillow. She could see the arrogant profile, the steep lids and the incongruous curl of hair that flicked round under his ear no matter what he did. Not that she needed to. She had already recognised those muscles. The shadows muted the Venetian red to chestnut but Diana knew the colour of his hair as well as she knew her own.

  His lashes lifted gently and dropped at once. He was still unconscious, it seemed.

  Diana pulled herself together. Carefully, putting one foot silently behind the other, she retreated, never taking her eyes off the bed.

  It was the mirror that spoilt it. She had forgotten it was there and, catching sight of her own reflection's movement out of the corner of her eye, she gave an involuntary gasp.

  It was enough. He had always, she thought bitterly, been a light sleeper.

  He came awake, as he had always done, instantly. Diana froze. He turned his head.

  There was a long, agonising silence. Her hands clenched so tight on her towel that the luxurious stuff marked her.

  Very slowly he lifted himself on to his elbow. He surveyed her thoroughly. The key pattern coverlet fell away, revealing that his tan extended to his hips. Diana's thoughts scurried like rabbits let out of a cage. Only one clear message came through and that was one she didn't want: that he must have been working in the open for weeks to get so evenly brown.

  Their eyes met. He gave a slow, sleepy smile. Diana felt something cold run up and down her spine and lodge solidly in the pit of her stomach.

  `Unexpected,' Miles said huskily.

  Her whole body was shaking with tension. He mustn't see it, she thought frantically. She knew she should move—turn her back on him and return to the sanctuary of the bathroom and her discarded clothes. Where was the strength of will she had spent the last two years nurturing
? Hadn't she been congratulating herself on it only this morning?

  But Diana could only stand and tremble. She felt that sensual regard envelop her like a warm breeze and despised herself.

  With a suddenness that made her jump, he flung aside the coverlet and held out his hand. It was quite explicit. For a moment something inside her flared up in response to that wicked invitation.

  Diana flinched. She was appalled. She shook her head vigorously. It must be because she was so tired—or the shock of finding him here—or the ouzo on the sunny road—

  `God, no,' she said in a rag of a voice.

  It seemed her hard-won poise had gone along with her strength of will. She bit her lip, struggling for composure, some semblance of dignity. He watched her, one eyebrow raised. He looked, she thought, amused. It was not surprising, or even out of character, but it made her feel ashamed.

  `Why—?' he began softly.

  But she interrupted him. 'I'm sorry,' she said. 'There's been a misunderstanding. I've only just arrived. No one was about except Maria, and I suppose she didn't understand.'

  It came out high and breathless but at least she wasn't gibbering, Diana thought drily. Or asking what in the world he was doing here when he ought to be the other side of the world. Or screaming at him.

  `It was probably my fault,' she went on, trying to sound composed. 'I've been travelling a long time and I'm tired. I must have got the wrong end of the stick. I'm sorry if I've disturbed you.'

  His look of amusement deepened. He leaned back against the pillows, his hands clasped behind his head. `You've done that all right.'

  Diana blushed. She could feel the colour flooding into her face. Miles had always been able to make her blush, just by looking at her.

  He watched with interest. She could—if she had been close enough and not shaking with reaction—have hit him.

  `I'm sorry,' she said again coldly. 'There'll be a room for me somewhere. I'll go and—'

  It was his turn to interrupt. 'Why bother? There's plenty of room here.'

  It was, indeed, the biggest bed she'd ever seen in her life. Even with his six-foot frame stretched across it, there

  was space for several additional bodies. There was not, however, room enough for her.

  `I wouldn't dream ...'

  `Why?' he said again very softly. He met her eyes, his own rueful. 'You're worn out. You said so. Maria goes to ground in the afternoon. God knows how you found her in the first place. She'll have evaporated by now. Why not give up and crash out till evening?'

  Diana glared at him 'Because you're here.'

  `But not in exclusive possession.' His voice was bland. `I've offered to share.'

  Diana drew a long breath. 'I don't think that would be a good idea,' she said with a calm she was proud of.

  There was a gleam in the brown eyes. `Unrestful, you think? Well, there are remedies for that.' His voice was blatantly teasing.

  Diana stopped even trying to play his game.

  `You must think I'm an awful fool,' she said with heat. `It would take nothing short of anaesthesia to get me into that bed with you.'

  His lids dropped. He was laughing.

  `I'll bear that in mind.'

  There was no answer to that. Diana shrugged unwarily and caught at her towel just in time. Her blush redoubling, she turned away. She was conscious of his eyes on her shoulders above the bath-towel. How could eyes suggest so much? she thought in irritation.

  He said idly, 'Where are you going to sleep? In the bath?'

  `If I have to.' Her voice was grim. 'But I'll have a go at finding Maria first.'

  `It might be easier to find Susie.'

  His voice was mild enough, almost idle. But Diana knew him well indeed and she recognised a challenge when she heard one. She whipped round.

  'Susie?' She was frankly appalled. It had never occurred to her that her undisturbed holiday would include a hostess who despised her. 'She's here?'

  His mouth tilted wryly. 'It's her home.'

  `But she hardly ever came...' Diana said, and stopped dead on a shaft of memory.

  It had been Christos, at a long-ago party, taking the wind out Susie's sails. She'd been clinging to Miles's arm, reminding him of the wonderfully simple life at the castle—a life of course which Diana had never shared. Diana had been rather grateful for Chris's intervention.

  `You don't like the simple life, Susie,' he had said dampeningly. `No nightclubs, no shops, no friends to party with. You never go to the castle any more.'

  And Susie had looked adoringly up at Miles and said softly, 'Neither does Miles.'

  She hadn't said she'd live in a desert if Miles were there. She hadn't had to. And here he was.

  Diana stared at him. They must be here together. Her mind worked frantically. The perfect secretary must be less than perfect after all. She couldn't have known. Unless ...

  She said carefully, 'Did you know I was coming?' The lop-sided grin grew. 'Of course,' he said with composure.

  Her hands clenched tight into fists. He noted it, she saw. His brows rose.

  `I let Maria think that Susie had gone out and wouldn't be back till after you got here. Whenever that was.' He added thoughtfully, 'I didn't really think it'd be till this evening. It was very silly of you not to have a rest in Athens.'

  Diana ignored that. 'You—told—Maria —'

  `That when you arrived she was to bring you straight up,' he said, watching her intently.

  She opened her mouth to shout at him. Then shut it again. She couldn't think of anything devastating enough to say to express her feelings.

  He watched her unblinkingly. He was still completely relaxed. It was only too obvious that he found the situation highly amusing and was interested to see how she would get out of it.

  `Why?' she said at last in a strangled voice.

  `Use your imagination,' he invited softly.

  This can't be happening, she thought. It can't. It's worse than my worst nightmares. I'll wake up in a minute and find I've crashed the car... But she met his amused, level gaze and knew it was all too real.

  `You're mad,' Diana said at last. She made a helpless gesture. 'I suppose you know why you're doing this.' She hitched her towel in front of her more securely. 'Are you going to tell me where I find my own room, or would you find it more amusing if I have to play hunt the thimble up and down this damned castle?'

  One eyebrow flew up. 'In your bath-towel? Now that definitely has its attractions.'

  `I'm glad to entertain you, of course,' Diana said with equal courtesy and untruth, 'but I would like ...'

  To her horror she found her eyes filling with unexpected, traitorous tears. She flung away from him quickly.

  `The hell with you. I'll find Maria,' she said in a curt voice.

  He spoke from behind her. For the first time he didn't sound amused.

  `Diana

  But she fled. She knew that voice and it was the one he used when he was determined to get his own way. She had learned to resist after a fashion—but not when she was tired, on the edge of tears, and wrapped in someone

  else's bath-towel. The odds, Diana thought, with slightly uncertain humour, had to be evened a little before she was ready to do battle with a master.

  She locked the bathroom door and scrambled into her clothes. They looked even worse than they had when she arrived, wrinkling over her slightly damp skin. Diana didn't care. She had never had the clothes to compete with Susie anyway. And this was worse than the social embarrassment of being scruffy in the presence of the elegant Countess.

  She found her with Maria's help. The Greek woman looked concerned, but she took one look at Diana's set pallor and uncurled herself from her comfortable chair. She escorted her to a heavy door and knocked.

  Diana heard Susie's voice. A cold hand clenched round her heart. She had hoped not to hear it again.

  `Come in.'

  She did.

  It was a huge room, full of flowers. They were crimson and purp
le and white, trailing from bowl to antique bowl so that it looked like a garden. In the middle of this riot, Susie lay on a chaise-longue reading a foolscap file.

  There was a faint frown between the heavy brows. She looked up impatiently. As soon as she saw Diana her expression changed. It became cool and guarded. She did, however, stand up to greet her guest. Her unwanted guest, Diana reminded herself.

  `Diana. I didn't know you'd arrived.' She brushed a scented cheek half an inch from Diana's. 'Good journey?'

  But Diana wasn't playing social games. She found she was shaking. She drew a deep breath and said in a voice as cool as her adversary's, 'Susie, what is Miles Tabard doing in my bed?'

  CHAPTER TWO

  SUSIE seemed to go rigid. Her eyes not quite meeting Diana's, she said, 'I don't know what you mean.'

  Diana said, 'I thought I was supposed to be here on a working holiday. On my own. Nobody said it was on my own except for my ex-husband.'

  Susie was cool. 'And me.'

  It was only a pin-prick but it still hurt. Susie had no doubt intended it to hurt, thought Diana. Susie was telling her that Miles travelled with her these days. Diana didn't entirely believe her but she still flinched from the message.

  She said equally coolly, 'It wasn't you I walked in on, though. Was it?'

  The heavy brows went up. 'Walked in on?'

  Diana shuddered suddenly, remembering. Those mocking, knowing eyes. That careless invitation to which she had—oh, so nearly—responded.

  Susie looked disgusted. For heaven's sake. You lived with the man for two years. There's no need to go on as if he's Sweeney Todd.'

  Diana shook her fair head. 'It isn't that. You don't understand. I really did walk in on him, Susie. In bed. Maria just showed me into the room and ...'

  She couldn't go on. If Miles chose to tell Susie about her appearance from the bathroom wrapped in a towel, she couldn't prevent it, she thought. And if they were as close as rumour had it then he probably would. Eventually, anyway. But Diana couldn't.