in the years of her marriage Leila has lived like royalty, greedily soaking up all the luxury your father’s billions can buy?”
“It’s not a new phenomenon. There have always been courtesans.”
“You hate her, don’t you?”
“I hate what she did to my mother,” he said tautly. “And how shamelessly. That’s when it all began. She worked to alienate Zara from Dad. These days I’m…indifferent to her.”
Miranda had to wonder about that. Only eight years separated Corin and Leila. “She must have to work very hard to be indifferent to you!” She spoke without thinking.
His handsome face tightened and his whole body tensed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She reined herself in quickly. “Leila likes to charm wherever she goes. Men, that is.”
“Well, she doesn’t charm me!” His voice was heavily freighted with hostility.
“Okay, don’t be angry.”
“Maybe you should start thinking about psychiatry?”
She met his dark eyes. “You’ve said that before. I’ve got good instincts, Corin. I let them work for me. Are you going to show me that agenda of yours?”
“I’ve got it right here.” He picked up a sheet of paper, then passed it across the desk to her. He must have been checking it when she arrived. “A bank account will be opened for you. You’ll have all the money you need to travel. See the great art museums of the world, study a language if you like. Go to the opera, the theatre, the ballet. Zara loves the ballet. Buy clothes. I want you to make the best of this time, Miranda. You’ll have a long, hard slog ahead of you.”
Her eyes ran dazedly down the page. “Look, I can’t do this, Corin,” she said eventually. “I’m not family. Yet you’re treating me like family.”
“Oh, for God’s sake, you are family—in a way. Your mother is married to my father. That’s family. Besides, I’m fond of you, Miranda. You must know that. We clicked from the very first moment you near landed in my lap. Your welfare has become important. It’s the least I can do for someone who has taken more than her share of blows. We’re both caught up in this, Miranda, so you must do as I say. This gap year will work wonders. Just see how quickly it goes.”
She closed her eyes briefly. “So a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do? Is that it?”
“I want your promise right now,” he said.
Her eyes opened. Her head flew back. “What if Leila and your father decide to visit London, or the Paris apartment or whatever?” she queried with sharp concern. “I see there’s another apartment in Rome.”
“You wouldn’t need to have contact should they visit. Leila likes the great hotels. Claridges in London, the Ritz in Paris are favourites. Dad does what she wants. She’s an expert manipulator. Anyway, I’ll always know their movements. Leave it to me.”
“Leave it to you?” She drew in a stunned breath. “I’m shocked by all this, Corin. I knew you might spring the gap year on me again, but never an agenda like this! Zara still doesn’t know about me and Leila?”
“I don’t think she could handle it,” he said sombrely. “Not without speaking out. She knows about my clever protégée Miranda Thornton. She knows nothing about the family connection. It’ll have to wait.”
“Until you’re good and ready, Machiavelli. Do protégées usually get world trips and a hefty bank allowance?”
“My sister knows I have a reason for everything I do,” he answered smoothly. “She won’t question it, or you. All she needs to know is that I consider, as does Professor Sutton, you’ll gain a great deal from a gap year.”
Her beautiful eyes glittered like jewels. “I think I knew from the start it might end up like this. You changing my life.”
His mouth twisted sardonically. “Cheer up! Didn’t you once call it destiny?”
“You believe in it?”
Their eyes locked. For the longest moment. “I do,” he said.
Chapter Two
IT WAS more like a fairy tale than real life. She was living a glittering lifestyle, like the most impossible of dreams. She had to remind herself every day that she couldn’t allow such a life to seduce her. Not that there was any real chance of that. Zara was the heiress. She most assuredly wasn’t. The practice of medicine would be her role in life. But for now she was enjoying herself immensely—just as Corin had wanted her to. Days, weeks, months simply flew by in a whirl of pleasure and excitement. She was learning a new way of life, acquiring much knowledge along the way.
She loved London—perhaps not the climate, not after the blue and gold of Queensland, but she worked around that like everyone else. London was one of the great cities of the world. It embraced her. It allowed her to trace its illustrious history, to see its magnificent historic buildings, the art galleries, the wonderful antiques shops, markets, to shop at the legendary Harrods, visit the beautiful parks. She was doubly blessed by being billeted in very swish Holland Park, just west of Notting Hill. More than anything she loved living in Corin’s elegant apartment, with its French Art Deco furniture and a basic colour scheme of brown, bronze and white enlivened by cinnamon and gold. It was definitely a male sanctum, but it welcomed her.
Though fourteen thousand miles separated them, she somehow felt Corin very close. That could have had a lot to do with the fact that she was sleeping in his huge Art Deco bed!
Zara was largely responsible for the lovely time she was having. She had quickly found Zara was the most beautiful, gracious creature on earth. And the kindest. A true lady. Miranda knew from the photographs of their mother—Corin had one lovely silver framed study he kept on his desk—Zara was fashioned in her mother’s image, but she did see a lot of Corin in her. The sharpness of intellect, the generosity of spirit, the sense of humour that happily they all shared. Just like Corin, there was something utterly irresistible about Zara. Yet Miranda sensed a deep sadness that lay in Zara’s heart. From time to time it was reflected in her huge dark eyes. Zara had some pretty serious stuff stacked away in the background.
Over the months Zara had taken the place of the big sister Miranda had never had. She had been so lonely for siblings that had never arrived. How could they? Her real mother, Leila, had fled, desperate to get away from her parents and her child. She now claimed she couldn’t bear children. Maybe, just maybe, it was true. Leila would surely have wanted to cement her new position by producing a male child? It was possible it was Dalton Rylance who didn’t want or need any more children. He had Corin and his daughter, even if she so painfully brought to mind his first wife. Was his cold disregard a by-product of his guilt? Miranda found herself both fascinated and repelled by the whole story.
Kathryn Rylance had died when she’d crashed her car. Had it been an accident? She would never dare ask. But surely such a loving mother would never have deliberately left her children? Not to such a father. Or the covetous young woman waiting in the wings. The potential stepmother. There could have been a single moment when Kathryn had become careless and lost control of the wheel. She could have been blinded by tears. Miranda realised she wouldn’t be the only
