Deceit (12 page)

“Wait! I won’t talk long. I promise.”

The door slammed shut after him, and she sank back against the pillows. Her hand shook as she lifted the receiver to her ear. “I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Jean-Paul. I was in the shower.”

 “You never could lie worth a damn. You want to tell me about it?”

“No,” she said, her sad gaze on the door. “No. Tell me how you are instead.”

That night when Liana opened the door and Richard walked into the room, she wasn’t surprised. She had come to realize that—no matter their past, no matter their present disagreements —as long as they were here at SwanSea, they would be lovers.

SwanSea was large; they could easily avoid each other if they chose. But the turbulent emotions and feelings they carried for each other easily converted to passion, and the power of their passion pushed against the walls of the great house, seeking release.

They could not be in this place without being together.

Now when she closed the door after him, the lovely, soothing room filled with tension. Richard’s tension. He was wound tighter than a spring, and she knew why.
Jean-Paul.

He came to a stop in front of the fireplace and gazed unseeingly at a stack of freshly laid logs. “I gather you finished your phone call?”

“Yes.” She paused, “did you get the air you needed?”

“Yes.”

“Richard, I’d like to explain about that phone call—"

He whirled around, his body taut, his expression fierce.
“No!
I don’t want to hear one word about that phone call or the person who called you!”

“But—”

“I said
no,
Liana.” He came to her and took her face in one big hand. He stared down at her for a long moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, his manner calmer. “I don’t even want to hear his name. All right?”

“I won’t talk about the phone call if you don’t wish. But, Richard, there is something else, something I’ve decided it’s time you knew.”

His thumb caressed her jawline, and his heated gaze focused on the fullness of her lips. “Does it have anything to do with tonight and what you want me to do to you when we go to bed?”

Her throat dried up as desire began low in her body. “No. It’s about—”

His fingers tightened around her face, and his thumb brushed across her lips. “Then I don’t want to hear it.”

She wouldn’t let him silence her. Not just yet at any rate. “I have to tell you this, Richard.”

He slipped his thumb just inside her bottom lip to the soft moistness. “Maybe,” he said huskily. “Maybe. But not tonight.”

And then he replaced his thumb with his tongue.

Seven

Liana’s sandals dangled from her fingertips as she made her way across the rock and driftwood-strewn beach the next afternoon. Perhaps because of the rocks, this beach was unoccupied, people choosing the sandier strip of land closer to the house. But Liana found the natural beauty and most especially the isolation of this beach to be exactly what she wanted, and she gave silent thanks that the day’s shooting had gone well enough that Clay had called it quits early.

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky and cast a golden hue over the glittering sand and glistening dark rocks. Foam-tipped breakers surged onto the sand and lapped at her bare feet. The sight, sound, and feel of the cold water soothed her. She had desperately needed this time of solitude and peace before she saw Richard again and a new storm began.

It had come to her quite suddenly last night that it was time Richard knew of the deceit she had perpetrated on him so many years ago. She had tried to tell him, but he hadn’t been in a

mood to listen, and it had taken only the persuasive powers of his hands and lips to distract her. But now after a day to think over her impulsive decision, she knew she was right.

She wasn’t sure what she hoped to accomplish by telling him. All along she had felt it wouldn’t make any difference if he knew. Even that time after her father’s death when she had flown to New York with every intention of explaining, she hadn’t held much hope that the truth would change things. She still didn’t think it would. But seeing him again, being with him, realizing the depth of love she still held for him had convinced her that at the least he had a right to know.

She stopped to pick up a seashell, examined it briefly, then threw it back out to sea.

From his vantage point a short distance down the beach, Richard kept his gaze on her rather than the shell's flight. Long after the shell had disappeared beneath the waves, she stayed where she was, watching the sea. The wind lifted the hem of her loose-fitting sundress and braided itself through her long fall of hair; the dress and her hair were almost the same shade of pale gold. She looked solemn, beautiful, and very mysterious.

He would give up a major part of his possessions to know what she was thinking at this exact moment, he thought, then mentally cursed himself for being so stupid. He would never have the key to her. But at least, for this short time at SwanSea, he would have a part of her.

He walked up quietly behind her. “Were you testing your throwing arm, or was there something wrong with that shell?”

Her peace evaporated as soon as she heard his voice. Turning to face him, she reflected that she had given up asking how he was always able to find her when she could so easily elude everyone else. He seemed to have a built-in radar where she was concerned. “It was broken. ”

“And you’re looking for one that’s not?”

The question held only idle curiosity, she noted. Dressed in gray cotton twill slacks and a sky blue open-necked shirt, he appeared quite relaxed. Her need to believe that they could share an interlude of peace overruled her doubts. Tension slowly drained out of her. “Yes.”

“Why?”

By unspoken agreement, they turned as one and began walking. “I wanted to take a shell home as a souvenir,” she said. “The sea is so much a part of this place, it seems appropriate.”

“I don’t know if I agree. I think one of the gowns you’ve been modeling would be more appropriate. In fact, I’ll buy you one.”

She laughed lightly. ‘“Thanks, but no thanks. A gown like one of those would only hang in my closet, gathering dust and taking up space.”

“I've seen pictures of you at galas, Liana. I know you go out.”

“When I attend functions where I will be photographed, designers lend me gowns to wear. It’s free publicity for them. ”

Thinking about what she said, he paused to pick up a piece of driftwood, studied it for a moment, then drew back and hurled it out over the water. “All right then, I’ll buy you one of the paintings that will be going up for auction in a few days. That would be better anyway, because I can guarantee that any of those paintings will appreciate in value.”

She smiled, thinking of the simple cottage she called home. “Again, thank you, but I really wouldn’t have a place to hang anything that valuable.”

“Why not? You live In France, don’t you?” 

“That’s right. In the country. ”

“A chateau?”

“Not even close.” Still smiling, she nodded toward an outcropping of boulders. “Let’s sit for a while.” With lithe grace, he levered himself to the highest point, where erosion and nature had joined forces to make a natural seating area, then he bent, clasped his hands around her waist, and easily lifted her to join him.

“All right,” he said, after they were settled onto the sun-warmed rock, “tell me about your home.” She stretched out her legs in front of her and leaned back on her hands. “My house is very small, very old, and quite simple. But it has a great deal of charm and character, and I love it. ”

"But you have other homes, right? This country place isn’t your only home.”

She almost laughed, because he looked so puzzled. “I only need one home. When I’m on assignment, my contract stipulates that a place to stay be provided for me.” He was silent for so long, she added, “The difference between the perception of my life and the reality is a chasm as large as the Grand Canyon. ”

Her remark drew his gaze, and his eyes were so clear, she felt she should be able to see all the way to his soul. But the clarity was deceptive, and unseen barriers blocked her way. “You don’t believe me?” she asked, her tone deliberately light.

“I don’t have any reason not to. ” He reached out and brushed back a wind-tossed strand of hair that had fallen across one ivory cheek. “You’ve changed my mind. I’ll buy you jewelry. Maybe aquamarines, or even sapphires, whichever I can find that would come close to the color of your eyes.” She laughed. “Why do you have to buy me anything?”

“I don’t
have
to. I
want
to.”

Her laughter faded. “You don’t owe me a payment of any type, Richard.”

“No, you’re right, I don’t. But you wanted a souvenir, and I’m trying to think of something you’d like.”

“I told you what I want. I want a seashell. ”

 “Then I guess I’ll have to help you find one.”

A feeling warm as the sunshine that surrounded them slowly grew within her. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His brow suddenly knit. “Now that I think about it, I can’t remember ever seeing you wear any jewelry, either here or in photographs. Is there any particular reason why?”

“No, except again, jewelry doesn’t really fit in with my lifestyle.” She paused. “I own only one piece of jewelry, and I cherish it. ”

“Did Savion give it to you?”

The sudden tension in his voice cut into the tranquillity they had been sharing like a piece of jagged glass. She rushed to repair their peace. "Jean-Paul has never given me any jewelry.” 

“Then who?”

“An elderly lady I met in Paris about ten years ago. She was my next-door neighbor in the building where I took my first flat. She was bedridden and had a full-time nurse living with her, but from the moment I met her, we were friends. ” “What did she give you?”

“A brooch in the shape of a lily. In fact, I’ve worn it since I’ve been here. ”

He nodded. “That’s right, I remember now.”

“Leonora—’’

“Leonora?”

“That was her name. We got along wonderfully. I visited with her several times a week. My visits seemed to cheer her up. I don’t think she had anyone else, but she told me stories of the man she had loved and their life together.” Her eyes narrowed against the light dancing on the water. “She gave up everything for his love.”

“Then she was a fool. There is no such thing as love.”

She turned her head and met his gaze. “She thought differently. She told me she didn’t mind dying, because she had known true happiness and love. Once she mentioned a regret, a major one apparently, but she never explained. She gave me the brooch right before she died.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.” She didn’t want to tell him that Leonora had often said how much the sadness she saw in Liana reminded her of herself as a young woman. And of course she wouldn’t tell him how Leonora had told her that one day she, too, would find true love. He would scoff, and she didn’t blame him. Love was a subject better left undiscussed between them.

He threaded his fingers through her hair and tilted her head toward him. Then he kissed her, quite softly, quite gently.

“Would you settle for a piece of driftwood?” he murmured.

Bemused by the tenderness of his kiss, she wasn’t sure she had heard him correctly. “What?”

“Driftwood. That is, if we can’t find a suitable shell.”

She smiled. “A piece of driftwood would be nice.”

They scoured the beach, and in the end, chose a piece of driftwood for him and a seashell for her. Later, as Liana showered and changed for dinner, she reflected that the afternoon had been a truly happy time, a time she would remember in the years to come as vividly as she recalled the nights of ecstasy they had spent here.

She met Richard downstairs in the dining room, where they enjoyed a long, leisurely dinner. He seemed totally relaxed, and she soaked up his attention. Every time he smiled at her or they shared a laugh, a secret sensation of pleasure tingled through her. But her happiness was moderated by what she knew was to come later—the story she had to tell him. As much as she hated to jar their current harmony in any way, that was just what she had to do.

When they returned to her room, Richard undressed, leaving on only his trousers, and stretched out on the bed. She undressed, too, and put on her robe, but she delayed going to bed. Instead, she wandered around the room, picking up something in one place, putting it down in another, trying to decide how she should begin. She wasn’t aware that Richard was watching her until he spoke.

“What’s wrong, Liana?”

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “Nothing.” 

“Then why are you way on the other side of the room? Why aren’t you over here with me?”

She smiled briefly, thinking how much easier it would be to go to him, crawl into bed beside him, and give herself up to his incredible lovemaking. She actually took several steps toward him before she could stop herself.

She shook her head. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Later.”

“I have a feeling that if I don’t tell you now, I never will, and this is something you should hear.” His facial expression went from relaxed to tense in less than a second. “If it’s about Savion, I don’t want to know.”

She walked to the end of the bed and wrapped an arm around one of the sea-green draped posters. “Actually this is about me and what a stupid, naive young woman I was at one time.”

He shifted impatiently. “I don’t see the point in rehashing the past, Liana. ”

“This isn’t a rehashing, Richard. This will be information that is entirely new to you. ”

He rubbed his forehead. “I’ve lived all these years without knowing. I don’t see why it’s so important now.”

An odd thought floated through her mind: he sounded as if he were afraid he would be hurt by what she wanted to tell him. “It’s important to me, Richard,” she said quietly.

He made a sound of exasperation. “All right, I give up. Let’s get this over, whatever it is. Say what you have to say.”