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The shock that sprang in his face would have been laughable if she’d felt at all like laughing. The possibility of rejection had obviously never occurred to him. Not so surprising, she supposed, considering his status as one of Europe’s most eligible bachelors, but that in no way excused his sheer arrogance.
The anger sweeping her was as much a defence against any lingering doubts as an expression of repulsion. She drew herself up to her full height, fists clenched at her sides, eyes scornful. ‘If you want the truth, I’d as soon consort with a worm than a womanising, baby-abandoning low-life like you! I must have been mad to let you anywhere near me to start with. Talk about scraping the barrel!’
She stopped there, apprehension taking over at the look in his eyes. Danger shimmered in the air between them.
He turned abruptly and made for the drinks cabinet, pulling down the shelf with control to reach for glass and bottle. The whisky he poured was at least a double measure. He tossed it back in a single gulp, standing there with his back to her, tension in every line of his body.
‘I think you’d better leave,’ he said.
For a moment she hesitated, ashamed of the sheer viciousness of her attack. It took the memory of the newspaper item to drive all regret from her mind. Somewhere out there was a woman caring for his child. Maybe not the only one, for all she knew. He merited no apology.
He was still standing there when she closed the door on him.
It hadn’t been true, Leonie reflected painfully, coming back to the present. Not that part, at any rate. The woman had just been trying it on, losing her case when a blood test proved that the baby couldn’t be his. Not that it made him any less of a rake.
The ultimatum he’d just presented her with was still hard to take in. No marriage contracted under such circumstances could ever become meaningful. He would be condemning them both to a loveless union simply to salve his pride. He had to see how utterly useless a gesture it would be.
He was seated on one of the sofas, a drink to hand, when she finally nerved herself to go through. He watched her expressionlessly as she moved towards him.
‘There has to be some other way of handling this,’ she said. ‘Why would you want a wife who hates you?’
‘You don’t hate me,’ he declared without undue emphasis. ‘You feel the way you’ve always felt about me. The same way I feel about you. We’re meant to be together. If this is the only way of achieving that, then so be it.’
‘Forsaking all others?’ she asked. ‘Or are Dos Santos wives expected to turn a blind eye?’
The shrug was brief. ‘A matter of learning to trust.’
‘Trust you!’ She put every ounce of derision she could muster into the words. ‘That will be the day!’
Vidal shrugged again. ‘Time will tell.’ He paused, lifting a questioning eyebrow. ‘Do I take it we have an agreement?’
‘Do I have any choice?’ she asked bitterly.
‘Not if you want your father to keep his job.’
Leonie sat down heavily in the nearby chair, mind grappling with the implications. ‘What am I supposed to tell him?’
‘That’s entirely up to you,’ he responded. ‘The truth, if you like. I’d doubt it would make any difference.’
Her head lifted, eyes blazing green fire. ‘Yes, it would! He’d never go along with it!’
‘Then you’ll simply have to convince him that it’s what you want. You could say, for instance, that I asked you to marry me two years ago but you weren’t ready then to take the step. You’ve spent the last two years regretting your decision, and are happy to be given a second chance.’
‘He’d never believe it!’
‘Why not? He was aware of the attraction that flared between us the moment we met.’
Leonie gave a short laugh. ‘He’d hardly consider that enough to precipitate an offer of marriage from you!’
‘How could he know what my reaction would be? We come from different cultures.’
There was never a truer word, Leonie reflected, searching his face for some sign, however slight, of vulnerability. A hopeless task, of course. Vidal had no weak spots. Many women would be over the moon to have the opportunity she was being offered. If she were totally honest about it, the physical attraction he still held for her made the decision a little less fraught. It was doubtful if the marriage would be long term, anyway.
‘You win,’ she said thickly.
There was no reaction that she could perceive in the dark eyes. ‘I’ll begin arrangements tomorrow. I’m due in Munich the day after, but I’ll curtail the visit as much as is possible. We can be married three weeks from now, and travel to Lisbon immediately after.’
Leonie felt her heart jerk. Her expression drew an ironic smile.
‘You didn’t imagine I’d be content to set up a permanent home here?’
She hadn’t got that far, she acknowledged helplessly. ‘It can’t possibly be as quick as that,’ she declared, looking for any delaying tactic. ‘There’s my job, for one thing.’
‘Tell them you’re leaving,’ came the uncompromising reply. ‘If there’s any financial penalty it will be taken care of. I won’t wait longer than three weeks for you. The strain is already telling on me.’
‘I doubt if you’ll have any difficulty easing it,’ she said with purpose.
He made no perceptible movement, yet his posture somehow hardened. ‘There will be no others.’
And pigs might fly! she reflected. One woman was never going to be enough for him, even over a limited period. Especially one whose sexual experience was nil!
Not that she’d stay that way for long, came the thought, sending a sudden frisson down her spine.
‘If we’re waiting till after the marriage, I assume I’m free to go now?’ she said, blanking out any dissenting voices.
For a moment he seemed on the verge of disputing that assumption, then he inclined his head. ‘For now. You can tell your father the news tonight, if you wish—or you can wait until the morning and we can tell him together.’
‘You mean to come to the house?’
The smile was dry. ‘I think your father and I have some matters to discuss before he returns to his job. I’ll arrange a taxi for you.’
He got to his feet, heading for the telephone. Leonie watched him with a sense of déjà vu. Just what she was going to tell her father, she had no idea. How could she possibly convince him that her decision to marry a man she hadn’t even seen for two years had nothing to do with his own predicament?
It was a long and fraught journey back to Northwood. Relief held the upper hand for a moment or two when she arrived home to find her father had already retired for the night, though the problem was going to be no less in the morning. Somehow or other she had to find the right words before Vidal’s arrival.
It was still difficult to believe it was all really happening. She kept thinking she was going to wake up any minute and find the whole thing was a bad dream. She supposed she should be grateful that Vidal actually wanted to marry her, when he might simply have demanded she become his mistress for however long he chose.
None of which helped her sleep well. She rose heavy-eyed at seven, still with no clear idea of how she was going to give her father the news. He was already at breakfast when she finally went down, although not eating a great deal, she noted.
‘I thought you were staying out last night,’ he said. ‘You must have been late getting in.’
‘Fairly,’ Leonie agreed. The only way, she decided resignedly, was to come right out with it. ‘I didn’t actually tell you the truth about where I was going last night,’ she said. ‘I went to see Vidal again. He’ll be coming here this morning to see you.’
Stuart looked at her uncertainly, obviously struck by something in her tone. ‘To tell me what?’
‘That you can keep your job.’ She drew a steadying breath. ‘And to tell you we’re going to be married.’
Thunderstruck was too mild a word for the expression on her father’s face. ‘You’re what?’ he got out.
‘I know it must come as a shock to you,’ she said, fighting to maintain an element of composure, ‘though it isn’t as out of the blue as it must seem. He actually asked me two years ago. I turned him down that time, but I’ve always regretted it.’
‘Two years ago?’ Stuart Baxter looked even more bewildered. ‘But you only met him the once!’
‘Twice,’ Leonie corrected, aware of how crazy it all sounded. ‘He proposed the day after we met.’ She forced a smile. ‘I felt much the same way you’re feeling now. That it wasn’t possible for anyone to make a decision like that so quickly. Especially a man like Vidal. I didn’t have the courage to go with what I felt for him then. What I still feel for him.’
Her father gazed at her in silence for a lengthy moment, confusion giving way to perturbation. ‘You’re saying you’re in love with him?’
Leonie held his gaze, willing herself to reveal no uncertainty. ‘Yes.’
There was another pause, another change of expression, this time to one of suspicion. ‘Are you doing this for me?’
Her laugh sounded hollow even to her own ears. ‘Dad, much as I love you, I couldn’t contemplate tying myself to a man I had no feelings for. What you did brought us together again, that’s all. I want to marry him. More than anything!’
‘He’s no good for you, pet!’ It was a cry from the heart. ‘You know what kind of man he is!’
‘I know what kind of man he’s made out to be,’ she returned. ‘As a bachelor, he’s been entitled to play the field. That’s not to say he’ll continue doing it after marriage.’
‘Leopards don’t change their spots. I know it’s a cliché, but it’s based on fact. I can’t believe you’re really serious about this!’
‘I am,’ she assured him. ‘Very serious. I want you to be happy for me, Dad. Happy for us both.’
‘I’m trying,’ he said. ‘I’m really trying. I just find it—’ He broke off, shaking his head. ‘When were you thinking of?’
Leonie drew another deep breath. ‘Within three weeks. And quietly. Vidal doesn’t want any publicity.’
‘Three weeks!’
Get it all over in one go, she thought, steeling herself. ‘We’ll be living in Portugal, of course. Vidal’s main home is in Sintra, near Lisbon. We’re not planning on a honeymoon.’ She certainly wasn’t. ‘We’ll be going straight there afterwards.’
‘You planned all this last night?’ Stuart both looked and sounded at a total loss.’
‘That’s right.’ Leonie let herself relax a little. The worst was over. She attempted a smile, a lighter tone of voice. ‘Vidal doesn’t hang about.’
‘Not in any sphere, apparently. What time will he be here?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she hedged. ‘Definitely this morning.’
‘What about your job?’
‘I’ll be leaving, naturally.’
‘Just like that?’
Her shrug was meant to convey a wry acknowledgement. ‘Needs must, I’m afraid.’
‘Because Vidal says so?’ Stuart viewed her in perplexity. ‘Are you going to let him rule your whole life?’
‘It would be a bit far to commute from Lisbon,’ Leonie pointed out, trying to make a joke of it. ‘Anyway, I’m hardly going to need a job. I’m marrying a multimillionaire.’
‘That isn’t you talking,’ he protested.
‘It’s me talking nonsense,’ she responded, rueing the comment. ‘I’d marry Vidal if he didn’t have a penny to his name! I’ll be really sorry to leave you on your own,’ she added truthfully, ‘but it had to happen some time. Anyway, Portugal isn’t all that far away. We’ll be able to visit both ways.’
‘Of course.’ The agreement was subdued, his attitude one of unwilling resignation.
Leonie stretched a hand across the table to cover one of his, doing her best not to give way to the temptation to blurt out the truth. ‘I know it’s a shock, Dad, but I do know what I’m doing.’
‘I hope so,’ he said. ‘I really do hope so.’ He pushed back his chair and got to his feet. ‘I’ll be in the study.’
She let him go without protest. He needed time on his own to come to terms with it all. She needed it herself, if it came to that. By the time Vidal arrived she had to be in a frame of mind to go along with anything and everything he said.
The following couple of hours went by slowly. With ten o’clock come and gone, she began to wonder if he’d changed his mind about the whole thing. The sound of a car drawing into the drive a little before eleven dispelled that notion. A Mercedes again, she noted from the drawing room window. The latest model no doubt.
She went to open the door before he could ring the bell, unable to deny the customary tug on her stomach muscles as she viewed the decisive features.
‘Dad’s waiting for you in the study,’ she said without preamble. ‘I told him what to expect.’
‘Leaving little to discuss,’ Vidal responded dryly. ‘Five minutes should be enough to say what I have to say.’
‘You’re going to read him the Riot Act again, I suppose?’ she said, closing the door again.
Vidal gave a short laugh. ‘I intend him to understand that our marriage buys him no further immunity, yes.’
‘I’m sure he already knows that.’ Leonie was hard put to it to keep a civil tone. ‘He’s facing a difficult time all round. I’d be grateful if you didn’t lean on him too hard.’
Vidal made no reply. Wearing a dark grey suit today, he looked every inch the hard-headed businessman. She bit back any further appeal, tapping lightly on the study door before opening it.
‘Vidal’s here, Dad.’
She left them to it, going to the kitchen to make coffee. There was no sound from the study when she went back along the hall with the tray. Five minutes, Vidal had said, but it was already fifteen. What they could be talking about she couldn’t imagine.
Another five minutes went by before the two men put in an appearance. Stuart looked subdued, Vidal impassive.
‘I’ve made the arrangements for Monday three weeks from now,’ said the latter. ‘I’ll be travelling to Munich this afternoon in order to be through with business matters by then.’
Giving her three whole weeks to rearrange her life, thought Leonie sardonically. She kept both expression and voice under strict control. ‘I’d have thought the register office would have been pretty heavily booked this time of year.’
Vidal smiled, seemingly at ease. ‘I was offered a cancellation. Did you inform your employers?’
‘Not yet,’ she admitted. ‘I can’t do it over the phone. I’ll go in this afternoon.’
Stuart started to say something, breaking off with a helpless little gesture as if in recognition of the futility. ‘It’s going to be very short notice for your family,’ he observed. ‘Will any of them be attending the wedding?’
‘It’s doubtful,’ Vidal replied smoothly. ‘They do little travelling. We’ll visit them at the first opportunity, of course. The ceremony will be at ten o’clock. I have reservations on a flight from Heathrow at four.’
‘So soon!’
The shrug was brief. ‘I see no reason to linger. Naturally you’ll be welcome to visit any time you wish.’
