Scarlet Lady (13 page)

'If you like it that much, you can return here on your own,' she said firmly, snatching the map from his hand. 'Or stay and wallow in the atmosphere now, while I find the library myself. Columbus Square. Fine. See you later—'

'No!' He caught her arm forcefully. 'We do this together. You're not trotting around this town on your own.'

She heaved an impatient sigh. 'If you insist, but let's get on with it,' she said coldly. Her eyes narrowed. 'But would you mind taking your hand away? And don't grab me like that again. I'm not in the mood for playing shepherd and sheep.'

'Angry because I turned you down last night?' he drawled, ignoring her request and pulling her to him. The chiselled bow of his mouth lifted sardonically. 'Pettiness, wouldn't you say?'

'Not at all!' she snapped back. 'Last night I was worried and upset and in need of comfort and you jumped to the conclusion that I was after your body.'

Ginny dragged in a rather shaky breath. The lie wasn't coming easily. Something to do with having her body touching his so intimately. He felt warm. Male. Intoxicating...

'I don't want you making the same mistake again,' she went on harshly, ignoring the weakening effect of the lure of his parted lips. Calculating brute! He was hoping that she'd fall feebly at his feet. But she wouldn't be dominated!

'Did I really make a mistake?' he asked in soft disbelief.

Ginny wondered how much he knew of her liquefaction. If she hadn't been gripping his shoulders tightly, she might have melted into him, she thought moodily.

'Men have the habit of misinterpreting women's signals,' she tossed in a snappy, no-nonsense manner.

'You're no exception. So I will make my feelings clearer in future.'

Leo nodded, assessing the tension in her body with a casual sweep of his smoky eyes. And he gave an infuriating little chuckle, narrowing the circle of his enclosing arms. 'They're clearer by the minute.'

She felt the temperature rising between than. Was that all
her?
Were her palms sweating because of his heat— or hers? Or both... 'What's that meant to mean?' she asked belligerently, afraid that she was betraying herself. He'd feel the heat coming off her. What would he make of it?

His linked hands pressed into the small of her back, driving her pelvis closer to his, and she resisted with all her strength. 'I do believe you are getting...' His pause had her holding her breath. Did he know? She went scarlet with mortification. 'Annoyed,' he said finally, his mouth curving in amusement when she let out a sharp breath of relief. 'Annoyed with me, or yourself, I wonder?'

Her eyes said that she was close to exploding. So did her prim mouth, the pressure of her hands on his shoulders as she fought to keep a decent distance between them. The rest of her was telling another story and she knew from the mockery in his cynical grey eyes that he'd realised that. She had to break free. With dignity.

'Are you going to let me go or do I treat you to a resume of my expensive self-defence lessons and then scream loudly for help?' Her head tipped back and she looked down her nose haughtily at him. 'I don't want you hanging onto me while we walk around this town—'

'But, darling,' he reproached in mock affection, 'holding hands would be normal for a happily married couple like us. We really can't march angrily along like cross children on their way to find teacher.'

Ginny's eyes blazed. Cross children indeed! 'Stop being so damned patronising! Nobody knows us in Castries!' she seethed. 'Stop this
farce
of togetherness!'

'Sweetheart,' he murmured soothingly, 'we know for a fact that there are two couples from the hotel wandering around. Perhaps others. Maybe Vincente is out of hospital and doing a little light shopping. Or Pascal is knocking back Planter's Punches in a friendly neighbourhood bar. We've no idea—'

'It's very unlikely,' she snapped. His face had bent close to hers. Tanned and smooth, maddeningly kissable. In her mind she could almost feel the satin slide of his skin over her soft lips. Sharp and swift came a spasm of need in response to the thought. And she was hanging onto her dignity and her pride by a slender thread while her eyes and her mouth must have been revealing her desire and her pelvis strained against her will power in an effort to break that thread.

'Unlikely, but possible. While there's the chance we'll be seen we must keep the farce going,' he said reasonably, toying with a lock of hair blowing across her face. He tucked it behind her ear. Slowly. He knew how sensitive her ears were! she thought angrily, gritting her teeth. Delicious tremors were chasing up and down her chest. She swayed on her feet and he smiled winningly at her. 'I know it's not very funny and neither of us can stand the sight of each other,' he murmured, apparently blind to the way she felt, 'but it suits my purpose and it suits yours.'

'No, it doesn't!' she insisted hotly. Too hotly. Taking slow, deep breaths, she struggled to get herself calmer. 'OK, we're supposed to be married and... and we're supposed to be mad about one another,' she said with difficulty. Her voice tightened with bitterness. 'People in love don't always have to be grabbing each other—'

'Yes, they do.' Leo's voice was low and husky and it vibrated into every corner of her yearning body. 'Lovers are impelled to touch one another,' he said silkily. 'Half the time they don't even know they're doing it.'

Her mental powers seemed to be at a standstill. In a daze she felt his hands unclasp at the dip of her waist. His palms moved tantalisingly up her back beneath the loose shirt, coming to rest on her naked flesh between the cropped top and her skirt.

She exhaled very slowly, steeling herself to resist. 'Don't
do
that!' she muttered, twisting away from him. Attack was better than defence.

Standing there, panting a little and wanting to hurl herself headlong into his arms, she had a brainwave that would save her. 'You know, Leo,' she said thoughtfully, with only a slight tremor in her voice, 'if I didn't know better I'd be wondering why you have to keep touching
me.'
At his indrawn breath, she stretched her long, slender neck and met his ash-pale eyes boldly. 'Not still in love with me, are you?' she scathed, hurting herself with the question. Pigs might fly! she thought bitterly.

The ash-coloured eyes smouldered and ignited into white fire. 'I'm trying to protect my family from scandal. You know why I'm pretending we're still married.'

'The Brandon name!' she muttered bitterly.

'The Brandon name,' he agreed in a low voice. 'The combination of you and Vincente is potentially damaging. I don't want to touch you,' he growled, 'but sometimes...' His mouth twisted wryly. 'Sometimes I have to,' he finished softly.

Ginny winced. He had to because he wanted to keep her in order. She had to touch
him
because she found it impossible to keep her hands off him. 'The trouble with you is,' she said frostily, 'you're too used to lording it over everyone at Castlestowe.'

That wasn't strictly correct and she knew it. He had a kind of family relationship with the staff there—maybe because he'd grown up with them all. But the taunt suited her purpose.

'If that's how you see it,' he said quietly, 'you're even less perceptive than I thought.' And Ginny winced, her jibe backfiring on her. 'Incidentally,' he added casually, 'there's a hell of a crowd up Laborie Street by the looks of it. Take my arm and we'll forge through together.'

'No, thanks. We'll do better on our own,' she said stubbornly.

And she regretted her decision almost immediately. Everyone seemed to be flowing down the street in a fast, unstoppable tide, and they were swimming against it. Over and over again she was knocked, bumped and jostled. People weren't hostile and they apologised with friendly grins, but she felt relieved when they were in the less congested square.

Aware that Leo was eyeing her with an 'I told you so' expression on his smirking face, she pretended not to notice and scanned the buildings anxiously for some sign to tell her which one the library was.

'It's the one on the corner,' he offered in amusement.

With a haughty angling of her head, she strode with determination towards the once beautiful old colonial building and climbed the steps inside to the reference room. This should end the ridiculous charade that she and Leo were playing. After her visit here, life would be considerably less complicated.

Though, judging from the flaking paint everywhere, the limited number of books and their old-fashioned bindings, she might come away disappointed. Dismayed, she studied the earnest readers, apparently content with their lot. 'Where do we start?' she whispered.

'You find somewhere for us to sit,' murmured Leo. 'I'll chat up the librarian and see what she can suggest.'

He gave her a gentle shove towards the tables which took up most of the room and she edged around them to a couple of chairs. Not surprisingly, the librarian quickly succumbed to Leo's neon charm and chatted away merrily, lifting three reference books and a directory from a stack behind her. Even from fifteen feet Ginny could see that the books were dilapidated and held together with sticky tape but Leo bore them over to her as though they were the crown jewels.

'This is all, apparently,' he said in an undertone, passing her the books.

'You're joking!'

'No. If the information isn't in there, it isn't anywhere.' He beamed at her encouragingly. 'You go through them and I'll check the telephone directory.'

There was a silence for a while and then, to her amazement, he said, 'Well, that's that. Nothing in here under St Honore.' Before she could make any comment, he'd slipped from his chair and returned the book to the librarian.

'Nothing?' she whispered with a frown when he returned. 'There must be!'

'Unless he's ex-directory,' he suggested glibly. 'You know how it is with wealthy people.' Her face still expressed doubt. 'Any luck your end?' he asked with an innocent interest.

Ginny was instantly on her guard. Leo, innocent? He was playing some devious game, judging by the look in his eye. She wondered what, and why. 'These books are worse than useless,' she muttered. 'All I've discovered is that St Honore was given land near Soufriere by Louis XVI in 1784. That's it.'

'It's a start,' he said brightly.

Ginny gave him a scathing glance. 'It's nothing of the kind. These books aren't exactly up to date, Leo.' Her long fingers found the date in a collapsing volume. 'This was published in 1920. That one...1897, this one... 1935.' Her angry eyes accused him. 'Are you quite certain that there aren't any more books we can look at?' she asked coldly.

'Have a look around,' said Leo with a shrug that dissociated him from any blame. 'It's not generously supplied, is it?' Accidentally, his warm knee gently connected with hers. The shock travelled through her body, leaving her a. quivering mess and wanting more. 'We've drawn a blank, I'm afraid. What a shame. Shall we go?' he suggested sympathetically.

Somehow Ginny pulled herself together, despite the fact that his face was hovering close to hers while he whispered to her intimately and his eyes were warm and indulgent. 'There must be something here—'

'Tell you what,' he said smoothly. 'I could try the post office in Bridge Street while you check out the shops there.'

She looked up and tried to ignore the persuasive smile. 'You're remarkably clued up on the amenities,' she said, puzzled.

'I'm good at maps,' he replied. 'Apparently there's a good restaurant in the same street. What about a long lunch and a stroll in the sunshine? A little duty-free shopping in the complex, collect a few souvenirs, check out the boutiques...' He angled his head appealingly.

It was all too appealing. He seemed genuinely sorry, sporting a big, generous smile and a friendly, compassionate expression as if he knew how disappointed she was. Miserably she wondered if he was deliberately coaxing her away so that she left without the information she needed. She knew what she had to do: search all the shelves in the library if necessary, pester the librarian till she got a lead on Vincente. Hermit or not, he couldn't have disappeared totally.

But she would have loved to spend the rest of the day mooching about with Leo. Ginny's long lashes lowered to cover the wistfulness in her eyes. All her life seemed to be one big, long denial—of her emotions, of food, of a need to spend quality time on herself. And now she was having to deny herself one afternoon in Leo's company.

No long lunch. No stroll in the sunshine. No lazy day in the sunshine. She had something to do and she mustn't let him coax her out of it. It was for the best, she told herself ruthlessly. He'd walk all over her if she took the easy way out.

'Do whatever you want,' she said quietly. 'I'm going to look for clues here myself. You see, Leo, I don't trust you.' Slipping from her chair, she turned to the shelves behind them. Knowing nothing about the organisation of books in a reference library, she gave a cursory glance to the titles, hoping to find the history section. Or maybe—

'Hello again!' said a soft voice behind her. Hearing Leo's stifled exclamation of dismay, she turned her head to find a young man smiling good-naturedly at him. 'Didn't you find what you wanted the other day?' the young man asked.

Leo stood up slowly, his eyes narrowing as he struggled to think of a reply. 'N-no,' was all he managed.

Ginny drew in a sharp breath. Leo had been here before! Furious, she glared at him intently while he exchanged a few desultory remarks with the young man. After a moment the two of them shook hands and the young man left. Leo sat down and pretended to be engrossed in the economic history of St Lucia.

Shaking with anger, she slid into the chair opposite him, reached out, flipped the book shut and snatched it away. 'You rat!' she whispered furiously. 'You've been here before!'

'Yup.' He met her eyes, his expression guarded.

'And you're hiding something from me!' she accused.

His hands opened in a gesture of admission. 'True.'

Her mouth dropped open at his gall. 'And what,' she snapped frostily, 'might that be? An address, perhaps? Vincente's address?'