ready to use it as a weapon if necessary. She had heard nothing, she had thought the corridor was deserted, and looking up at the tall stranger standing right behind her now, she realised the vulnerability Simon was always speaking of. But the man had spoken her name, so he could not be a villain, could he? Why warn her of his presence, if he intended to attack her?
Certainly he did not look like a thief, but criminals were often plausible people. Where had she read that, or heard that? On television, probably. They were always warning women to be wary of any stranger, who might threaten their lives or their property, and this man was definitely a stranger. Her lips parted. Just because he was tall and dark-skinned and attractive there was no reason to doubt his duplicity, and her knees trembled violently as she struggled to remain calm.
‘What do you want?’
The involuntary question was a futile effort to gain time, but the corridor remained obstinately empty. The lift she had heard coming whined away past her floor, and she was alone and helpless, and hopelessly demoralised.
‘Relax, Miss Mallory. I’m not a thief or a rapist,’ the man assured her, in a crisp masculine drawl that had a decidedly un-English accent. ‘I’m sorry if I frightened you, but I thought you’d heard my footsteps. This corridor isn’t exactly soundproof, is it?’
‘Well, I didn’t.’ Rhia was trying desperately to regain her composure. ‘And—and one doesn’t expect visitors at—at eleven o’clock at night.’
‘I know. I’m sorry about that, too. But my time scale isn’t the same as yours, and right now, I’m not too concerned about your reactions to my visit. I need to talk with you, Miss Mallory. Now. So do you invite me in, or do I state what I have to say out here?’
‘Wait a minute …’ Rhia clutched her bag like a lifeline. He was going too fast, much too fast. Who was he? What was he doing here? And what right did he think he had to demand speech with her?
‘My name is Frazer,’ he said now, anticipating her next question. ‘Jared Frazer.’ His lean mouth twisted in an expression of harsh satisfaction at her involuntary withdrawal. ‘I see the name means something to you. It should.’ He paused. ‘I’m Glyn’s uncle. And I’d be interested to hear your explanation as to how come you’re so unconcerned that my nephew may be dying because of you!’
‘THAT’s not true!’
Rhia’s denial was automatic, her pale cheeks flaming with hot colour as she faced his cold implacability.
‘Then why aren’t you at the hospital?’ he demanded, raking her with a scathing glance. ‘The least you could do is pretend you cared a damn for his life!’
‘I—I do. At least, I care as—as much as anyone would care——’
‘Anyone?’
‘Yes, anyone.’ Rhia glanced helplessly behind her. ‘Oh, I—I think you’d better come in. You—you’ve made a mistake, Mr Frazer. I’m not who you think I am. Valentina is my sister. I’m Rhia.’
‘Rhia?’
As she struggled to get her key into the lock, she heard him repeat her name with harsh incredulity. Then, as the key turned and the door swung open, she gasped in dismay as his hand at her back impelled her into the small hallway beyond. Panic flared once again, but it was short-lived as he groped for the light switch and slammed the door behind them.
‘You lying little bitch!’ he swore violently, iron-hard fingers around her upper arm pressing her against the wall. ‘You’d better think of something else and quick, Valentina. I met your sister Rhia when I came here earlier this afternoon!’
Any thought of defending her sister died in Rhia at that moment. ‘Then—then you were misled,’ she choked, almost spitting the words at him. ‘I—I am Rhia Mallory, Mr Frazer. And I can prove it. Now will you please let go of my arm? You’re hurting me!’
She was aware that in the struggle, the neat coil of her hair had become loosened and untidy strands of honey-coloured silk were tumbling down about her ears, framing the pale indignation of her face. Violet eyes, wide with resentment, glared into the enigmatic darkness of his, and she shook her head in fury as he continued to hold her prisoner.
‘Say that again,’ he commanded, and she was so close to him she could feel the warm draught of his breath as he spoke. It was fresh and just faintly scented with alcohol, as if he, as well as her sister, had taken time out from visiting the hospital.
‘I—I said, I’m Rhia Mallory,’ she repeated unsteadily. ‘I don’t know who you saw this afternoon, but it certainly wasn’t me.’
‘She said she was Rhia Mallory,’ he insisted, and Rhia could feel his frustration through the taut fingers gripping her arm. ‘She said you weren’t home, and that I’d better come back later. She didn’t say when, so I came back—at six, and again at eight o’clock this evening. This is my fourth visit, Miss Mallory, and this time I don’t intend to leave until I know the truth!’
Rhia was trembling very badly, but somehow she managed to sustain his angry glare. ‘I don’t care what she told you, Mr Frazer,’ she retorted tremulously. ‘I imagine she had her own reasons for telling you what she did. The fact remains, I am Rhia, not Valentina, and I wish you would stop behaving as if I’d committed some kind of crime!’
‘And haven’t you?’
‘No, damn you!’ Rhia caught her breath on a sob, the pain he was inflicting to her arm causing the blood to drain from it. ‘For God’s sake, let me go, can’t you? You’re taller, broader, and infinitely stronger than I am. Surely you’re not afraid I might overpower you!’
The man regarded her malevolently for a long moment, and then, with a faint trace of admiration twisting his dark features, he opened his fingers and stepped back, allowing her to massage her injured arm with jerky movements. ‘You’re very cool, Miss Mallory,’ he commented harshly. ‘I should have expected it. But after meeting your sister, I’m afraid I was disarmed.’
Disarmed! Rhia couldn’t imagine anyone who displayed a greater lack of such a weakness. But evidently Valentina had spoken to him, and succeeded in deceiving him. But why? What did she hope to gain by it? Surely she realised that by antagonising this man, she could only be making things more difficult for herself.
‘You’d better come in.’
Pushing past him, Rhia led the way into the living room. For a moment, he resisted her attempt to pass him, but then, with a wry inclination of his head he allowed her to continue, and Rhia turned on the lamps with a feeling of mild incredulity. This couldn’t be happening to her, she thought disbelievingly. But it was, and her unwelcome visitor’s bulk uncomfortably reduced the generous proportions of the familiar room.
Glancing behind her to ensure herself of his whereabouts, Rhia emptied the contents of her handbag on to the dropleaf table in the window. Then, after finding what she was looking for, she held out several articles for his inspection: her banker’s card, her cheque book, and not least, her driving licence.
‘I think these will clarify the situation,’ she declared, her voice breaking in spite of the iron determination
