back in his chair. ‘Why the rush?’
‘Why do you think, Leandro?’ Abigail asked in a high-pitched voice. ‘The last time we met you were walking out of your apartment, leaving me with your sister, believing every word she had said about me being a liar, a thief and a gold-digger. So, believe it or not, the less time I spend in your company, the better. If I’d known that you were the man Lady Rosalind was about to marry, there’s no way I would have come all the way here to deliver a ring. But I didn’t, and now the ring is in your possession, and all I need is your signature before I leave.’
‘I’m not going to go down the road of reminiscing over your lies and half-truths,’ Leandro told her calmly. ‘As for the ring... I may or may not decide to keep it.’
‘You have to!’ Abigail gasped. ‘Vanessa has just taken over her father’s business and this sale is a real coup for her. There was stiff competition from other buyers to get hold of this particular diamond!’
‘Not my problem, although it beggars belief that you managed to con your way into a job handling priceless jewellery, now that we’re on the subject. Does your employer know that you’re prone to being light-fingered?’
‘I don’t have to stay and listen to this!’
‘Oh, but you do. Or have you forgotten that you need my signature?’ He snapped shut the box with a definitive click. ‘I think I’ll keep it,’ he decided briskly, ‘as an investment. It’ll make me money. Now, sit.’
‘I have to go.’
Leandro looked at her narrowly as she glanced down at her watch with just the slightest hint of panic, as she licked her lips and fidgeted.
‘It took much longer to get here than I anticipated,’ Abigail said into the growing silence. ‘We should have arrived ages ago, at least two hours ago, but the weather... I’d planned on being back in London by eight-thirty. I really have to get back...’
‘Why?’ he asked smoothly. ‘Glass slipper going to get lost? Carriage about to turn into a pumpkin? There’s no wedding ring on your finger, so I take it that there’s no Mr Right keeping the fires burning on the home front. Or is there?’ He found that he didn’t care for the thought of a man in Abigail’s life and that streak of inappropriate possessiveness shocked him.
But then, why beat about the bush? She’d lodged in his head like a burr and the plain truth was that he still wanted her. It made no sense, because she represented everything he found distasteful, but for reasons he couldn’t begin to understand she still turned him on. Something about the way she was put together. He’d been out with some of the most beautiful women in the world and none of them could get to him the way this one could.
It was as infuriating as it was undeniable.
She was still in his system, a slither of unfinished business, and there was only one way he could think of to get her out of his system once and for all.
He lowered his eyes and felt the kick of satisfaction at a decision taken. It would be an insult to fate, which had decided to throw them together, were he not to take advantage of the situation.
‘It’s none of your business whether there’s someone in my life or not, Leandro!’ Agitated, she sprang to her feet, challenging him to stop her. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse me, Hal is waiting in the kitchen. I’ll go fetch him and we can head off. It took us hours to get here, and it’ll probably take us hours to get back, and I...’
‘And you...what?’
‘Nothing,’ she muttered. ‘I just need to go now.’
‘By all means, although...’ he nodded towards the window ‘...you might want to reconsider that decision. If you look outside, you’ll find that the weather conditions that delayed your trip here are now considerably worse. Leave here and you’re liable to end up in a ditch by the side of the road somewhere. That’s the thing with these country lanes—they’re very picturesque in summer but positively lethal in winter when the weather decides to take a turn for the worse.’
Abigail paled and followed the direction of his gaze, then she anxiously went to the window and peered outside. The flakes were raining down fast and thick. Already, the extensive grounds of the country estate were carpeted in white. It was beautiful. It was also, she noted with sickening dismay, virtually impassable.
‘I can’t stay here. I have to get back!’
‘Feel free. But perhaps that should be a joint decision taken with your driver.’
‘You don’t understand! I have to get back to London tonight.’
‘You’re not going anywhere,’ Leandro told her. ‘This snow is going to get worse before it gets better. You might be willing to put your life at risk in your desperate need to return to the city, but you have your driver to consider. Frankly, what you choose to do with your life is entirely your concern, but I won’t be responsible for any accident that might befall your driver. I will ensure that he is fed and settled into one of the guest suites for the night. By tomorrow, you will doubtless find that the driving conditions are improved.’
Abigail was close to tears but there was nothing she could do. ‘I can’t get a signal on my phone,’ she told him, defeated. ‘I need to make a call.’
Leandro didn’t say anything but he was thinking fast. A man? Not a husband, but a lover? Who else? And would that stop him? He wanted her, but was that want reciprocated?
He had one night, he thought with satisfaction, and one night should be more than enough to put this urge to bed once and for all. He would find out soon enough.
ABIGAIL HAD EXPECTED similar alarm from Hal about being trapped at Greyling Manor for the night—he was a family man with three young children—but he seemed pleased as punch not to be returning to London.
‘Treacherous roads,’ he said comfortably as he settled in front of the array of wildly extravagant food which had been laid on for them by Leandro’s housekeeper. ‘Wouldn’t want to risk driving on them, and besides, I haven’t been out of London in months.’
While he had tucked into the surplus party grub, with Julie nodding approvingly at his hearty appetite, Abigail toyed worriedly with her food. She had, at least, managed to get through to her friend Claire who was looking after Sam for the evening, and she had cheerfully agreed to stay until she returned.
‘I’ll be back no later than tomorrow lunchtime,’ Abigail had said sotto voce, for she had been directed to the landline and was petrified that Leandro might be lurking behind a door and overhearing her conversation. ‘I don’t care what the weather decides to do. There’s no way I can stay here.’
‘I know you miss Sam,’ her friend had said soothingly, ‘but it’s better for you to wait and travel back when it’s safe rather than risk life and limb. I promise to take very good care of the little guy!’
Abigail knew that her friend would. She had met Claire at the handful of antenatal classes they had attended together, and they had hit it off immediately. Both young, both single and both pregnant. Although, in Claire’s case, she had had a job at the local nursery. Thanks to Claire, Abigail had
