be the most emotionally expressive man on the planet, but he still had a good heart. Liadan was convinced of that…despite what she’d said about him having no heart at all.
Clearly wrestling with those very feelings, Adrian unconsciously circled his chest with his hand as if trying to contain them. ‘Come to the opera with me tonight…please. Let’s at least enjoy a pleasant evening together and forget about everything else for a while. What do you say?’
Music was one of his greatest passions, Kate had told her that first afternoon when they’d met. And the chance to see La Bohème was not to be missed. Even if Liadan was in turmoil about his less-than-loving proposal of marriage.
‘All right, then. I’ll come.’ Her lip quivered a little as she tucked some hair behind her ear. The decision to go to the opera was easy. The marriage offer, on the other hand, was far more problematic to contemplate. Adrian didn’t love her, that much was obvious, and marrying him ultimately would only bring her down. Just being with him would solve one great need she had, but living with him and not having his love would surely destroy her utterly in the end.
Recoiling from the immense wall of pain that she emotionally slammed into, Liadan knew the decision she had to make. Buying a little time at the opera would be no bad thing, she told herself—because it would probably be the last evening they ultimately shared together in such an intimate way.
More relieved than he could say with her agreement, Adrian felt the tension in his muscles thankfully relax. ‘You won’t regret it,’ he promised.
Summoning up a mere ghost of a smile, Liadan nodded and said nothing.
‘Here.’ Adrian pushed his clean white handkerchief into Liadan’s hand, touched by her highly emotional response to the final scene where the heroine, Mimi, died in her lover’s arms. But he was also concerned. She’d been so quiet throughout the long drive into London and now, in the theatre foyer, as they collected their coats from the cloakroom her pretty tear-moistened eyes kept avoiding his inquiring gaze; she was clearly embarrassed by displaying such emotion in public.
‘Are you okay?’
‘I’m fine.’ She was lying. Especially since she looked as if she was about to burst into tears all over again.
‘Liar.’ Waiting until she’d finished dabbing at her eyes with his handkerchief, Adrian helped her on with her long tweed coat, her perfume stirring the air around him, immediately casting a spell he was helpless to resist. Not that the woman needed any artificial help in creating her magic. He was simply mesmerised by her.
‘How could anyone not be moved by what we’ve just seen and heard? It’s such a tragic story. Poor Mimi.’ Sniffing helplessly, Liadan glanced up at Adrian, at his extraordinarily compelling features and dashing appearance in his dark grey suit, white shirt, burgundy tie and long black coat that showed off his wonderful wide shoulders to perfection. She felt like Cinderella meeting the handsome prince at the ball for the first time, knowing that these precious stolen moments together would soon be relegated to painful posterity when the clock struck midnight, and she had to finally flee back to her old life without him.
‘Don’t forget poor Rudolph.’ For once, Adrian’s smile was unguarded and warm and Liadan wanted to capture the specialness of that moment and keep it close to her heart for ever. ‘Even though he should never have driven her away in the first place with his jealousy.’
‘Mr Jacobsen! Who’s your lady friend? How about a smile for our readers?’
They both turned at the demanding male voice and were temporarily blinded by the flash of a powerful camera. Immediately Adrian’s arm swept protectively around Liadan’s waist and she sensed every muscle in his body turn to iron.
‘Leave us alone,’ he said with a scowl, pushing past the impertinent photographer with ill-disguised resentment.
‘What’s your name, love? How long have you and Alexander been seeing each other?’
For a moment Liadan was surprised by the use of Adrian’s writing name, then she realised that that was the name that most of the public knew him by these days. Adrian Jacobs, war correspondent, had been replaced by Alexander Jacobsen, best-selling author of dark psychological thrillers.
‘Say nothing,’ Adrian warned her in a low voice as he steered her deliberately towards the heavy double doors of the exit. He needn’t have worried. Liadan was just as keen as he was to guard her privacy. The sooner they were in the car and on their way home, the better, as far as she was concerned.
‘Did you know that you’re a dead ringer for Alexander’s old flame Nicole Wilson, love?’
Beside her, Adrian froze. Liadan froze right along with him. Was that why he had hired her as his housekeeper—because she looked like the girlfriend he had lost in such tragic circumstances? The idea sent shock waves hurtling through her system like water rapids. Worse still…was that why he now professed to want to marry her?
‘What the hell are you talking about?’
Unable to contain his fury, Adrian turned on the hapless photographer, his hands possessively tightening around Liadan’s waist as if he expected her to suddenly bolt. The photographer, a middle-aged man with sandy-coloured hair thinning on top, and wearing glasses, smirked defiantly.
‘Come on, Alexander. It can’t have escaped your notice that she looks like Nicole? Still carrying a torch for the lovely Miss Wilson, are we?’
‘You print those despicable lies and you’ll never work again in the newspaper business…you understand?’
‘Is that a threat, Mr Jacobsen?’
‘No! It isn’t a threat!’ Breaking free of Adrian’s hold, Liadan stepped forward, her heart pumping wildly against her ribs—not just because she was furious, but because there was suddenly a small crowd of curious onlookers gathering around them in the plush theatre foyer, gawking. However she felt about Adrian’s reasons for wanting her, she still didn’t want him to be hurt any more than he was already. ‘Don’t you think he’s been through enough without you making his life even more difficult? Aren’t there more newsworthy stories that you could chase about real issues that affect real people, instead of making things up purely to sell your sleazy tabloid?’
Liadan didn’t know whether she’d imagined it, but the photographer seemed to go slightly red in the face, as though she’d inadvertently hit on something raw.
‘Liadan.’ Quietly but firmly insistent, Adrian reached for her hand and pulled her away. ‘Let’s go home, huh?’
‘Wait a minute.’ Her blue eyes focusing solely on the man in front of her with his cassette recorder and camera, she took a deep breath to try and calm her racing heartbeat. ‘Don’t print this nonsense…please. I’m appealing to the better nature that I’m sure you have underneath that hard-bitten façade. You don’t have to trade on people’s unhappiness to make a living, do you? We’ve just had the most wonderful evening at the opera. Please don’t spoil it for us by tarnishing the experience for ever.’
‘Let’s go home,’ Adrian said again, and this time Liadan allowed him to lead her through the thick double doors out into the street. When they glanced back, there was no sign that the photographer had made any attempt to follow them.
‘Liadan?’
‘I’m
