Authors: Sara Wood
But that hesitation had put her on the alert. Leo wasn't telling her everything. Maybe not even the truth. 'There's a little more for me to know, isn't there?' she asked.
He frowned. 'Family business.'
Ginny squared her shoulders. 'If you want me to abandon this search for Vincente, you'd better tell me everything,' she said sharply.
His mouth thinned, as though it was painful telling anyone about a hiccup in the Brandon genealogy. 'You've been hunting down the biggest rogue you'll ever meet,' he grated. 'The kind of man who'd cheat his own cousin. There's a cloud hanging over that family, Ginny. You see, Vincente's cousin Louis died under suspicious circumstances. So did Pascal's first wife and baby son. They died in a fire. Vincente was implicated in both events—and Pascal was so certain that his father caused the fire that they had a brawl which resulted in Pascal going to prison for criminal damage and actual bodily harm.'
Ginny swallowed. What a family! If Leo could prove without a shadow of doubt that she couldn't be Mary's daughter, she'd be heartily relieved. 'Tell me about your aunt,' she said huskily. 'How did she meet Vincente?'
'Socially, in London. She was seventeen. Headstrong, stubborn, confident.' Leo's mouth twisted wryly. 'Apparently it was her engagement party. She was to marry Vincente's cousin Louis—a brilliant match, approved by everyone. Then, out of the blue, she declared this undying love for Vincente and they ran away to St Lucia. Gradually the family lost all contact with her and she even stopped writing to Father—who'd been a great friend as well as a brother to her.'
'Didn't anyone come over to find her?' she asked hesitantly.
'Several times. However, Vincente and Mary never seemed to be at home. Grandfather learnt of Pascal's birth from a local boatman.'
'That's terrible!' she said indignantly.
Leo shrugged. 'She'd cut herself off from the family. The Brandons are too proud to run after anyone.'
Ginny nodded soberly. She knew that only too well. 'So why should Vincente have thought for one moment that I might be their daughter? And how did he find out about my mother's name and my date of birth?'
'After thirteen years married to Vincente,' continued Leo patiently, 'she got in touch with Father out of the blue and begged him to help her leave the island.'
'Why?' breathed Ginny, unable to tear her eyes from his pale, tight face and his lowered eyes. A terrible sadness washed through her body and, desperate for Leo's touch, she reached out hesitantly with her slender hand and rested it on his, shocked to find that it was shaking because he was clenching it as if crushing the life from Vincente's neck. 'Was she unhappy?'
Leo fixed her with a piercing look. 'You have to stay away from the man,' he said tightly. 'My aunt suffered from Vincente's vile behaviour. He humiliated her by openly flaunting his mistresses. I understand that he attacked her, verbally and physically.' Leo's brows met in an angry line. 'He moved one of his mistresses into the house. That was when she decided to run away,' he muttered, and looked at her with such raw and bitter eyes that her heart lurched for him.
'She was the woman in the scandal!' she breathed in compassion. 'Why didn't she run away before?'
'She couldn't. Vincente's treatment had crushed her so much that she was terrified of stepping out of the house,' replied Leo grimly. 'Agoraphobia, I believe. She was a prisoner of her own mind. It took Father hours to persuade her to leave, once he reached her.'
'She must have been terrified,' Ginny said quietly. 'Leo, I'm so sorry.' Her hand tightened on his in sympathy.
'You do see what a terrible man Vincente is, don't you?' he asked urgently.
'Yes. Yes, I do.' Vincente was a brute. Thank heavens Leo had kept her away from the man! She tried to swallow away the lump in her throat as the sun slanted beneath the shady roof of the balcony and lit Leo's haunted face with a searing light. 'Your aunt,' she said gently. 'Is she all right now?'
Again that hesitation. Ginny tensed. He was about to lie to her.
'Leo, I want the truth,' she said, her voice hardening in warning. 'I deserve the truth. I can find out when I get back to England what happened to her—'
'Yes.' It was clear that Leo felt reluctant to tell her what he knew. Ginny waited while he stared sightlessly at the cheerful crowds below. 'I don't know,' he said slowly. His mouth hardened. 'She was pregnant with Vincente's child when she arrived in Britain but disappeared shortly after it was born. Father never found her. She's been missing for over twenty-five years.'
Something knotted in Ginny's stomach. And the penny dropped. 'You said your father had taken care of her!' she accused shakily.
'He did for a little while. And then she vanished.'
Her breathing became shallow. Of course. Vincente wouldn't have been searching for his daughter... unless he'd known that his wife was pregnant before she left. Although Mary had disappeared, Vincente had finally traced his wife to the nursing home. And he'd placed that advert because Ginny's date and place of birth were right—even if her mother had called herself Sarah Temple.
Vincente's wife and her mother could well be one and the same person. And that meant that Vincente might be her father. She remembered Pascal's fair hair. The colour drained from her face.
'Your aunt Mary's child would be twenty-five years old now, wouldn't she? I'm twenty-five, Leo,' she said in a low voice.
Leo's glacial eyes flicked briefly to hers. 'Yes,' he replied softly.
G
INNY
let out a little whimper. Leo's hand reached out to cover hers while she sat there, numb with shock. She almost wished that she hadn't made the link. Mary had been pregnant. Disturbed. Ginny shuddered. Her mother had been disturbed too. Suddenly she wanted to deny any connection with both Mary and Vincente. She lifted tearful eyes to Leo's.
'I should have listened to you,' she said shakily. 'I should have left well alone.'
'I'm sorry,' he said, sounding a little stilted. 'I did my best not to wash my family's dirty linen in public but you were determined to find out why I was being evasive, weren't you?'
No sympathy. Only an accusation. Peevishly she drew her hand away. 'So what's the story?' she said dully.
'You already know that Mary was pregnant when she left Vincente,' he muttered. 'When Father got her back to England she was thirty years old, in shock from the journey and naturally disturbed. For a while she stayed secretly in Castlestowe. Father and she decided to hide her condition even from Grandfather. It was the perfect place to hide because it was winter and the castle would be shut up till the season began.'
Ginny nodded. She knew what he meant by that. The social circuit had a set plan and the earl only used the castle from May to September. Amid thousands of acres of gorse and grouse moors, it would have been the perfect place to hide.
'It must have been like a morgue up there,' she said quietly. She looked out at the street below, oranges, reds and yellows predominating in the sunshine. And she thought of grey, unwelcoming Castlestowe. 'A cold, wet, bleak change after St Lucia. Poor woman. What a culture shock. But...you said she disappeared from Castlestowe. What links her with the Glasgow nursing home?'
'The records,' explained Leo. 'Father told me that she was definitely there. I imagine Vincente had Mary traced there too. His investigators would have followed up all the women with children bom around the right time and eliminated them in turn. So I presume they were left with a handful of untraceable mothers who might fit the picture. You were obviously born in the right nursing home on the right day.'
She sat there as still as stone and let that sink in. The truth had been kept from her by Leo because she might be his cousin and he wouldn't want her to be part of his family—especially now that they were divorced. It would be too awkward to admit that the notorious model was part of the Brandon line. Everyone knew that she wasn't good enough.
'Your aunt—what did she look like?' she asked shakily.
'Grandfather got rid of all the photographs. Father was too cut up to talk about her much.'
He sounded angry. Hostile. Despair robbed her body of all its strength. Leo loathed Vincente. And she could be Vincente's daughter. A soft shudder ran through her body and Leo silently handed her his glass, in which an inch or two of rum remained.
'Thanks,' she mumbled, and tossed it back. It revived her brain a little. 'How long have you known?' she asked in a hoarse croak.
'Since I mentioned to Father that you'd gone to St Lucia in search of St Honore. He was appalled and told me then.'
Ginny wanted to cry. But they were in public and she didn't cry in front of strangers. It was probably the reason why Leo had insisted that they talk here. He knew that she'd rather bottle up her tears and her anger than expose her emotions to others.
'You have no idea where your aunt is?' she whispered miserably.
'None. She could be anywhere. She could be dead.'
'I have to find out!' she said jerkily. 'More so now than before! It all fits, doesn't it? My mother being poor and friendless, the fact that she'd been traumatised by something—it might have been because of everything she'd suffered at Vincente's hands. It would explain why she couldn't bring herself to touch me, why she hated me, why she developed a phobia, why she gave me away—'
'Ginny,' he growled, 'calm down and think now. There are some serious consequences of this situation, the first being Vincente—'
'He's a
monster!'
she said angrily.
Leo gave a curt nod. 'Thank God you realise that now. I want you to promise me you won't try to see him—'
'But I have to!' she cried vehemently. 'Don't you see that? Unless I do, I'll never know! He'll describe my mother. There might be photographs that'll jog my memory. Something to tell us for sure either way. I must find out the truth, Leo. I have to learn it from him.'
She bit her lip to stop the self-pitying tears from spilling out. No time for tears. It was imperative that she go to Beau Rivage and confront Vincente.
'Hell!' Leo removed his hand from hers and ran it through his silky brown hair in weary exasperation. 'Have you thought this through? You go to Vincente, he seems convinced, you take the DNA tests. Then what? What exactly will you do if you
are
his daughter? Live happily ever after with him? What's the
point,
Ginny?' he snapped irritably.
Feeling very alone and vulnerable, Ginny stared miserably at him, the rest of her life suddenly a terrifying prospect. Her soft mouth trembled.
'I don't know,' she admitted. 'I only know that I've been someone else for so long—playing the part of a successful international model—that I don't know who I really am any more. When I first came here, I hoped to find out. I wish I'd never meddled, but I have.' Angrily she scooped up a wilful tear with her fingertip. 'So I've got to go ahead, haven't I? Because I know I'll never settle to anything till I've uncovered the real truth about my background. And all I can do is take one step at a time.'
'It might be a coincidence that you were born in the home,' Leo pointed out. 'You can't have been the only baby to arrive that day.'
'No,' she acknowledged. 'The solicitor I spoke to said there'd been another woman who'd come here in response to Vincente's advert. Since the solicitor had heard nothing from her, he'd assumed she wasn't Vincente's daughter. Now it's for me to learn the truth.'
'I warn you,' he said softly, his eyes boring into hers, 'if Vincente should ever learn you've been married to me, he'd say you were his daughter even if you weren't, just for spite. He's that kind of man. Don't imagine you'll necessarily get the truth from him.'
'I didn't get it from you, did I?' she whispered miserably.
Leo's eyes kindled. 'There was a reason for my evasiveness, Ginny. Protection—'
'Yes,' she said impatiently. 'Of the Brandon name. But my peace of mind is more important to me.'
She hesitated, knowing what she wanted to say but scared that she might be turned down. Nausea gripped her stomach. Facing Vincente alone would be a horrific ordeal. She could only do it with Leo. Nervously she shifted in her seat and fiddled with the cutlery.
'I haven't completely absorbed all this. But...it's going to be hard to cope with.' Her eyes lifted in appeal. His face was blank. She'd have to crawl, then. 'Leo, if I've never asked you for a favour before, I'm asking now,' she said, trying to keep the panic out of her voice. 'I— I am going to see Vincente. And I can't do it alone. Please!' she begged, her huge eyes moist with unshed tears. 'We don't have to say who you are, but... I want you to come with me...'
'So I'm useful to you now?' he asked.
Ginny flushed. 'You're making this difficult for me,' she said quietly. 'It would suit you to come, after all! You can be Leo McKenzie if you like—but I think it might be better if you were with me, don't you?'
'For the last time, I'm asking you to forget this. If you're hoping that Vincente will make you rich and get you out of debt, I'll give you money. I'll pay your court fees—'
'I've almost done that,' she snapped, her tattered nerves driving her almost to screaming point. 'This is personal. Can't you see that I have to know? If you'll come with me, I'll do anything you want, Leo,' she promised rashly.
He leaned back nonchalantly in his chair, his gaze slowly raking her tense body. 'Anything?' There was a brutally long silence while he held her a prisoner of his charcoal-dark eyes. Tingles of fear sped through her as a gleam appeared in them—a gleam that became a mocking light. 'That's a promise I can't refuse. So yes, I'll go with you to see Vincente,' he drawled. 'Between us, we'll find out whether he's your father or not—and I'll help you to find your mother. That I swear on the honour of the Brandons.'
'And...' Her tongue slipped nervously along her dry lips. 'The price?' she asked huskily.
He smiled and she knew with a sinking heart that the cat had the cream again. What would he demand? Unlimited sex? Never to see her again? Her guaranteed silence if Vincente was her father, never revealing that she'd once been a Brandon? Her unhappy eyes pleaded with his, waiting for his answer.