smiling, wanting to let her composure go and to give in to the newly arrived apprehension, she wriggled out of her coat, flung her hat on the marquetry table and glided to the library.
But, positioned at the far end of the long room, by the window, her beloved Leo was smiling down at a woman who sat on the window-seat: Arabella Lake, fellow model, rival, and a mean manhunter. And neither of them even noticed her arrival because they were both so engrossed in one another.
Shocked, Ginny clutched the jamb of the door, almost at the end of her tether. Arabella! Her eyes closed in dismay then opened reluctantly at his soft, husky laugh. She wanted comfort. Needed his arms around her. Instead, she’d have to listen to Arabella’s false condolences and know that the malicious woman was delighting in Ginny’s failure to clear her name.
‘Leo!’ she called, her voice low and husky with misery.
He looked up, his eyes brooding, nodded curtly in cold acknowledgement, then continued to smile and chat to Arabella. Ginny walked the long gallery as if she were on hot coals and naked before a jeering audience, her stomach somewhere in her boots, her pulses jittering so badly that she could hardly keep her balance.
It struck her forcibly that it had been a long time since Leo had looked at her with the same smiling affection that he was showing towards Arabella. When he’d glanced towards her just now, his face falling into icily disapproving lines, he’d seemed almost a stranger. Nervous and inwardly panicking, she gazed at his beloved face, seeing what Arabella was seeing.
A tall man, one of the few who could tower over tall models like herself—and Arabella. Thick hair the colour of rich brown silk, swept back from his face and cut to perfection. Tanned and healthy from an outdoor life on the estate. His brows strongly defined and often imperious, a long, straight nose of aristocratic hauteur and steadily piercing eyes that drowned women in their smoky, smouldering depths. And a projection of masculinity and natural, centuries-old authority and self-confidence that drew women to him like a magnet.
They’d called him Charisma, at Eton. It was obvious why and her heart lurched as her adoring eyes followed the sharp line of his jaw and lingered on the full mouth with an upper lip that could have been chiselled from marble like the statues in Castlestowe Castle.
She wanted to fling herself at him, to press her mouth to his. But something held her back—a fear of rejection so strong that she faltered, unable to continue for a moment.
And then she walked on, feeling the pull of Leo’s earthy sexuality and wondering whether Arabella felt it too. Stupid! Of course she did! There had always been a rawness about him that transcended the conventional politeness of his impeccable breeding. It had forced her to face her own passion, to give out a little of the fire—but not all; she didn’t dare—that her adoptive parents had all but driven out of her at an early age. And now she could see that he was deliberately projecting that overt sexuality—to Arabella.
The corners of her mouth drooped in misery when she heard him talking to Arabella in the tone of voice he used in bed—as if he’d spent too long in a smoke-filled room. She saw the intense look, the total concentration, as if his hungry grey eyes could look nowhere else...
He’s mine! she thought furiously. ‘Hello, Arabella.’ Her shaky greeting won her a brief, cold smile from the smirking woman but no other acknowledgment. Leo seemed to have superglued his gaze to Arabella’s, Ginny thought glumly.
She knew that he’d been annoyed over the trial even taking place. The lawsuit had begun two years ago and she’d been forced to juggle extended modelling dates and sessions with her lawyer till she’d hardly seemed to be at home at all—and when she had been she’d felt exhausted. Leo had complained. Eventually he’d asked her to work part-time and settle down on the estate in Scotland. Which he loved and she hated. It was bleak and wet and isolated.
‘The verdict came in, Leo,’ she said quietly, breathing evenly to eliminate the shake from her voice.
‘I know. I got a call from a journalist asking my opinion of Chas,’ he said curtly.
Ginny paled, knowing that the scene in the car would have been embellished out of all proportion. ‘Can I talk to you in private for a moment or so?’ she asked faintly.
‘If you wish.’
Leo’s indifferent tones cut her like a knife. The humiliation was so intense that she felt like turning tail and running from the room, but Arabella was already rising to her feet and wrapping her arms around Leo’s neck.
‘Poor Ginny,’ sighed Arabella, her green eyes slanting maliciously. ‘I hear she’ll be bankrupt. I guess she’s lost everything she lives for. I’ll slip away for a while. Bye for now, darling,’ she cooed, then planted her scarlet lips firmly on Leo’s and kept them there for several seconds.
‘Catch you later,’ said Leo calmly, emerging from the clinch. His hands stayed on Arabella’s waist, Ginny noticed jealously. And he was smiling beautifully, letting his eyes twinkle. Or were they kindling? she thought jealously. But, whatever they were doing, it wasn’t for her. ‘Tea will be served in the drawing room in an hour. See you then.’
He smiled when Arabella gave him a flirty flutter of her talons and tottered off in a skirt that was indecently short.
‘Is...?’ Ginny frowned. ‘Is Arabella staying for tea?’ she asked in dismay.
‘Staying—’ Leo turned an unreadable gaze on her ‘—for a few days.’
When she needed privacy to lick her wounds! ‘You... invited her?’
The long dark fringe of lashes flickered. ‘You have a problem with that?’ he asked.
‘I—I wanted us to be alone,’ Ginny began miserably.
‘I’ve been alone for too long. I wanted company.’ Leo’s eyes only warmed when they watched Arabella’s slow progress—a kind of exaggerated cat-walk down the long gallery.
Ginny tried to smile without much success. He seemed to be telling her something. And she didn’t want to hear it. The implication was that he needed a woman around who’d give him what she’d been incapable of giving for some time: love, companionship, quality time...sex.
Her tawny eyes flickered with pain. They hadn’t made love—not real love, sweet and tender—since the tabloid article had come out. And she’d been too scared to ask if he didn’t care any more. Her heart pounded violently. If that were true, she’d go to pieces. It would be the end of her world.
Once, twice, he’d made love to her as if he hardly knew her, in a restrained way that had left her crying alone in the great bed while he’d disappeared to take a shower. She’d imagined that he was washing her off his body. How long was it since they’d last slept together? She couldn’t even remember, knowing only that she missed his loving arms and felt terribly alone.
Appalled, Ginny waited in the cold, unfriendly silence till Arabella’s merrily clicking heels had stopped driving her crazy and the door had closed at the far end of the room. Leo was wiping lipstick from his mouth. And the cool neutrality had gone and he was suddenly very, very angry.
He had no right to be! Surely he must know what an ordeal she’d been through, how hard it had been to hold herself together these past few months? She was his wife and she was in trouble!
‘Leo...
