Love's Duel Read online

  ‘You certainly look better.’ Leonie had noted how his skin was less sallow, a little more flesh on his bones. ‘Fitter too,’ she teased.

  Wanda prepared the coffee, grinding the beans, their aroma filling the room. ‘Our one extravagance,’ she smiled. ‘I love what I call “real” coffee.’

  ‘So do I.’ Leonie accepted a cup.

  Wanda sat down. ‘You haven’t finished telling me about your proposal to Giles yet,’ she said with repressed eagerness.

  ‘I didn’t exactly propose,’ Leonie blushed. ‘It was a put-off.’ She explained the situation to the other girl.

  ‘Goodness,’ Wanda’s eyes glowed, ‘that big virile man after you! I wish I had your luck.’

  ‘I thought you said you loved only me,’ Phil mocked.

  ‘I had a crush on Giles when I was about fifteen. I remember he rebuffed me quite gently.’

  ‘So you do know him better than “slightly”,’ Leonie prompted.

  Wanda nodded. ‘He and Daddy have been friends for years. In fact it wouldn’t surprise me if he and Mummy didn’t have something going for them once.’

  ‘Wanda!’ Phil warned.

  ‘Well, they might have done.’

  ‘Which means they probably didn’t.’

  She sighed. ‘I was only speculating.’

  ‘Well, don’t,’ he ordered sharply. ‘Can’t you see it’s upsetting Leonie?’

  ‘It isn’t upsetting me,’ Leonie instantly denied, aware that that wasn’t the truth. It did upset her to think of Giles and the beautiful Glenda Lindsay once having an affair, as it upset her to think of him and Sonja Johnson together. The reason it bothered her was too deep to fathom—and she wasn’t sure she wanted to know. It was enough to know that all her past resentment had turned to attraction, any other emotions were better left alone.

  ‘You aren’t a very good liar, Leonie,’ her brother chided.

  ‘That’s funny, Giles thinks I’m a very good liar,’ she said with forced brightness. ‘In fact, he thinks I do little else.’

  ‘That sounds like Giles,’ Wanda grimaced. ‘I can never understand why he and Daddy are friends, they’re complete opposites. Giles is direct, honest, believes the law should be strictly adhered to, whereas Daddy—well, I’m sure I don’t have to tell you anything about my father.’

  ‘Phil was in the wrong, you know,’ Leonie pointed out gently. ‘He had no right to do what he did.’

  ‘Oh, I know that. But my father had no right to treat you the way he did either. There’ve been a string of girls since then, you know. And still Giles doesn’t seem to realise what sort of man my father is.’

  ‘Oh, I think he knows, he just thinks I’m worse than your father. And on the face of it I suppose I am.’

  Wanda frowned. ‘He still thinks those awful things about you?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Knowing how sensible he is I would have thought he would have realised by now that you’re too sweet and nice to have been involved in blackmail.’

  ‘Maybe his vision is blurred by lust,’ Phil taunted.

  ‘Phil!’ Wanda admonished.

  ‘Well, is it, Leonie?’ he asked.

  She blushed, bitting her bottom lip. After last night she had no doubt of the depth of Giles’ desire for her, he had been unable to control it.

  ‘Your face tells the answer,’ Phil smiled. ‘Do you want to have an affair with him, Leonie?’

  ‘And know all the time that he’s expecting me to extort money from him?’ she derided. ‘No, thanks!’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘So you do want to have an affair with him?’

  ‘No!’

  ‘Yes,’ he insisted gently. ‘Why don’t you just give in to what you feel? If you want him—’

  ‘You don’t understand!’ Her movements were agitated, her hands kneading together. ‘He said to me—he said a man always knows when he’s the first.’ She blushed at the intimacy of this conversation.

  ‘Yes,’ Phil frowned his puzzlement.

  ‘Well, he—he would be!’ She raised distressed blue eyes, looking very young and vulnerable.

  ‘Are you telling me—’

  ‘Yes!’

  ‘But your husband—’

  ‘Was paralysed. Tom was ill with a terminal disease, and he’d been in a wheelchair for two years before I met him. I—I loved him as I might have loved a friend.’

  Phil whistled through his teeth. ‘Then you’re still—’

  ‘Untouched.’ She nodded. ‘After what had happened I didn’t want any man within touching distance. Tom was always kind, never demanding, and we were happy together. But it just wasn’t possible for him to—to—We did try, in the beginning, but it never worked out between us.’

  ‘My God, Leonie,’ Phil shook his head. ‘You certainly play with fire! What if Noble had taken you up on your offer of marriage?’

  She shrugged. ‘Then he would have got rather a shock on our wedding night.’

  ‘More than a shock, I should think,’ Wanda put in dryly. ‘Then my father—you and he—’

  ‘No!’ Leonie denied heatedly.

  ‘Then no wonder he was annoyed enough to take you to court. My father doesn’t like to be told no.’

  ‘You sound as if you’re glad he was,’ Leonie frowned.

  ‘On this occasion, yes. I’m only sorry he hurt you as he did.’

  ‘Don’t be. He may have done the initial hurting, but Giles is the one who carried it on. But if he wants me that badly he’s going to have to marry me first.’

  ‘You really would go through with it? Phil was incredulous.

  She nodded. ‘I really would. If only to see his face when he realised the truth.’

  And she meant it. If Giles wanted her that badly he would have to pay the asking price. It appeared he didn’t want her, having been long gone by the time she got back to Rose Cottage.

  She had spent the weekend with Phil and Wanda, had learnt that despite the unorthodox upbringing her parents had given her she was very much in love with Phil and determined to become his wife. They were obviously very much in love with each other, and Leonie was glad for them, knew that Wanda’s vivaciousness was exactly what Phil needed.

  ‘Have a nice time, dear?’ Emily asked the next morning, having been in bed when Leonie arrived home the previous evening.

  ‘Lovely. Did you?’

  ‘Once Giles got over his disappointment at your not being here,’ Emily gave her a coy glance.

  Leonie stiffened. ‘I’m sure he wasn’t disappointed at all,’ she said lightly.

  ‘Oh, but he was, Leonora,’ Emily insisted. ‘Very much so.’

  Maybe he had been, but not for the reason Emily thought. Giles hadn’t given up on his plans concerning herself, and he was probably angry at her abrupt disappearance.

  She shook herself out of her reverie. ‘I’m sorry, Emily,’ she smiled, realising she had missed what Emily was saying. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘Giles has invited me down to London for a little holiday. And he would like you to come with me.’ She gave Leonie an expectant look.

  ‘A holiday?’ Leonie repeated dazedly, wondering what Giles was up to now. ‘But I—I couldn’t possibly come!’

  ‘Of course you could, Leonora. A few days in London are just what we both need.’

  ‘But I’ve only just got back from there,’ she protested desperately. Giles was playing games with her again, and on his home ground she would be much more vulnerable.

  ‘Yes, but you didn’t do any shopping. I want you to help me choose some new clothes,’ Emily said excitedly.

  ‘I’m sure you shouldn’t be walking on that hip to that extent yet.’

  ‘My hip is perfectly all right now. Besides, Giles won’t be picking us up for several days yet—Wednesday evening, he said.’

  ‘I really couldn’t, Emily. You go, I’ll stay here and work,’ and avoid Giles!

  ‘Don’t be silly, dear. We can see Simon while we’re there.’


  Simon Watts was their publisher, and he had been asking for a meeting with them for the past three weeks, anxious to discuss the progress on the latest book. Emily had produced her trump card, and she knew it. Leonie had no choice but to agree to go to London with her, although she intended showing Giles from the first that this changed nothing.

  From the triumph in his steely grey eyes when he called for them on Wednesday evening he knew that he had at last scored a point over her. Her temper sparked into life, her blue eyes flashing.

  ‘You sit in the front with Giles,’ Emily insisted as they came out of the house. ‘I’ll have more room in the back to stretch my legs.’

  ‘But you said your hip was better,’ Leonie reminded her, hating the thought of sitting beside Giles, his mockery evident to her if not to his aunt.

  ‘Oh, it is, dear,’ Emily nodded. ‘But I shall be much more comfortable in the back.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘What my aunt means, Leonie,’ Giles drawled, stowing their cases in the boot of his car, ‘is that she’ll fall asleep part way through the journey.’

  His aunt smiled. ‘How well you know me!’

  And how well he knew her! Giles knew she didn’t want to sit in the front beside him, and yet he had manoeuvred things so that she did what he wanted. What else would he manoeuvre her into before the end of this stay at his home?

  With the warmth of the evening and the extreme comfort of the car, she wasn’t at all surprised when Emily fell asleep; she felt a little that way herself. Except that she couldn’t possibly sleep with the disturbing presence of Giles Noble relaxing in the seat beside her, the pin-striped suit once more absent, the fitted navy blue trousers and shirt he wore casual in the extreme.

  ‘What did you hope to achieve by running away?’ he asked her suddenly, his voice pitched low. He saw her worried look in Emily’s direction. ‘Don’t worry, she’s fast asleep. You haven’t answered my question,’ he prompted.

  ‘I didn’t run away,’ she told him tightly. ‘I went to see my brother.’

  ‘In other words you ran to your lover,’ he drawled insultingly.

  ‘I did—’

  ‘What did he think of your marriage scheme?’

  She looked down at her hands. ‘He thought I was insane.’

  Giles’s mouth twisted. ‘For once Trent and I seem to be in agreement,’ he said dryly.

  ‘How nice!’ her voice was sweetly sarcastic.

  ‘And have you now got over your insanity?’

  ‘No,’ she said stubbornly. ‘I haven’t changed my mind, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘It was,’ he snapped.

  ‘Well, my offer still stands, at the same price.’

  He didn’t answer, his hand moving to rest on her denim-clad thigh, kneading the flesh beneath his fingers, his hand moving slowly upwards, past her hip, over the taut flatness of her stomach, hesitating briefly below her breast before he clasped that tightly, painfully, enjoying watching her squirm beneath his touch, smiling as she gasped.

  Leonie had tensed at his first touch, feeling her senses swim as his hand continued to caress her body. His hand on her breast, she tried to break away from him, but his hold wouldn’t be dislodged. She stopped struggling. ‘Let go of me,’ she ordered. ‘Take your hands off me!’ she told him vehemently as he made no move to remove his hand.

  ‘Keep your voice down,’ he snapped. ‘Do you want to wake my aunt?’

  ‘Yes, if it will make you stop touching me!’ She glared angrily at him.

  ‘I’m never going to stop, Leonie,’ he said huskily, his hand becoming gentle now, finding the taut nipple through the thin material of her blouse, his thumb caressing the throbbing tip. ‘You’re mine,’ he rasped throatily. ‘And one day you’ll be prepared to admit it.’

  She slapped his hand away. ‘You know the price.’

  His mouth set in a taut line, his hand returning to the wheel. ‘Why are you denying yourself what you so obviously want?’

  She blushed at the derision in his voice, had known that he was aware of her response. ‘I’m not denying us, you are,’ she replied in a studiously calm voice.

  ‘Like hell I am!’

  Leonie shrugged. ‘We’ll have to agree to differ.’ Oh, it was so difficult to keep up this act of a mercenary little bitch when what she really wanted to do was give in to the sensual tingle of her body where he had touched her, to know Giles’ full possession even though it would mean eventual rejection.

  ‘About what?’ came the sleepy response from the back of the car. ‘Oh dear,’ Emily sighed, sitting up with effort, ‘I think I must have fallen asleep for a few minutes.’

  ‘You did, Aunt,’ Giles smiled. ‘And Leonie and I were discussing—politics.’ He shot her a sideways glance.

  ‘Always a dangerous subject,’ Emily straightened her hair. ‘No two people can ever agree. Besides, they’re all a lot of crooks.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Leonie agreed, returning Giles’ taunting look.

  She was introduced to Davenport once they reached Giles’ home, finding the man just as she had imagined him to be, very tall and thin, with iron-grey hair, his dress and manner impeccable.

  It was a beautiful house, set in its own grounds in an exclusive part of London. Inside was the luxury of fitted carpets in every room, antique furniture, even a collection of china ornaments in a special cabinet in the sitting-room. The bedroom she was shown into was in gold and white, the furniture slightly more modern in here, although no less expensive.

  It surprised her that Giles had surrounded himself with so much comfort; he had always appeared to her a man who needed little, a man complete in himself. But there could be no doubt of the luxurious comfort of this house.

  She changed for dinner, a deep royal-blue just-below-knee-length dress, styled in the fashion of the moment, the top figure-hugging, the skirt pencil-thin. She looked very tall and slim in it, her eyes an even deeper blue than usual, her hair a riot of golden curls.

  When she entered the sitting-room it was to find Giles in there alone, his suit brown as was his tie, the contrasting shirt an attractive tan colour. He looked very dark and attractive, his hair brushed neatly back from his face to rest low down on his collar.

  He stood up at her entrance, a glass of whisky in his hand. ‘Drink?’ he asked politely, his razor-sharp gaze missing nothing of her appearance.

  ‘Just a sherry, thank you.’ Her movements were jerky. ‘Emily—’

  ‘Is having dinner in her room,’ he turned briefly from the drinks cabinet to tell her. ‘The journey took more out of her than she’d thought. She’s going to have a light dinner on a tray and then have an early night.’

  Leonie felt as if the ground were rapidly disappearing beneath her feet, although obviously Giles couldn’t have engineered this. But Emily could! It could all be part of the other woman’s matchmaking. In the meantime Leonie had to try and get through an evening with Giles, and at a time when she was already aroused by his caresses in the car.

  She accepted the sherry with a nervous smile, moving as far away from Giles as possible. That took her over to the cabinet containing the china figurines. She knew Giles was behind her even before she saw his reflection in the glass of the cabinet, had felt the warmth of his body even though he wasn’t touching her, and had smelt the tangy masculine odour of his aftershave. It was one she particularly liked, its heady aroma made her senses reel.

  ‘Are you interested in china?’ His breath ruffled the hair at her nape.

  ‘Er—not really. I don’t know enough about it, except to think what’s pretty and what isn’t.’ She didn’t turn, she daren’t, because that would bring her even closer to him. ‘Some of these are lovely. I like that one at the back,’ she chattered on. ‘The one—’

  ‘Leonie,’ he groaned, his hand coming about her waist and pulling her back against him, ‘you aren’t here to talk about my china figurines.’ His lips burnt a trail from her nape to her earlobe, b
iting gently into her soft flesh.

  Each time they met their lovemaking continued as if they had never been apart, and each time it was becoming more and more difficult to say no. She wasn’t even sure she would have been able to this time, but Davenport’s announcement of dinner made it unnecessary. The warmth in Giles’ eyes as they were seated opposite each other at the dining-room table seemed to indicate that the encounter in the sitting-room was far from over.

  Davenport served them their meal, making it impossible for any but the most general of conversations, so at least Leonie was able to eat her food in peace. But each time she looked up it was to find Giles’ burning gaze fixed on her, and he hardly ate anything at all.

  ‘I think Davenport was quite disappointed by our efforts to eat the meal,’ she remarked lightly once they had retired to the sitting-room, Giles preferring a brandy to the coffee she had accepted.

  His gaze warmed as he looked at her. ‘How can I eat when the only appetite I have is for you?’

  ‘Giles!’ She jumped nervously.

  ‘Why so surprised, Leonie?’ he said tautly. ‘You know damned well you’re tying me up in knots.’

  ‘I don’t mean to.’ She looked down at her hands, aware that her own loss of appetite had been due to a deep ache in the bottom of her stomach—and it had nothing to do with feelings of illness!

  ‘I just can’t understand you, Leonie.’ He stood up to pace the room restlessly. ‘Why the hell do you want to be my wife? Can you honestly see yourself enjoying the quiet life I lead? The respectable friends, the evenings when I would be working in my study and wouldn’t even give you a second thought, but when I wouldn’t allow you to go out without me either? Can you honestly see yourself in the role of a barrister’s wife?’

  If she were the woman he thought her to be, no. But as she was nothing like he imagined her to be she could well see herself enjoying the life he had just described to her, even if it did mean he would be her husband.

  ‘Because I can’t,’ he didn’t wait for her to answer. ‘I’m not getting caught in the same trap my father did. He married a promiscuous little bitch, and she ran off with another man.’

  ‘She was your mother, Giles!’

  ‘I know who she was,’ he sneered. ‘I also know what she was.’