Deceit (16 page)

But there were the accidents. He hadn’t forgotten the possibility that someone was trying to harm her—or worse.

“Then you understand—”

He held up his hand. “Enough. You’ve convinced me.”

She laughed. “Well, damn.”

“You
wanted
me to talk you out of working?” 

“No.” She slipped her arms around his waist and looked up at him with an unconsciously provocative smile. “But I liked that you were trying to.”

He groaned, half-serious, half-goodnatured. “All I’ve got to say is that you’re lucky we’re surrounded by people. ”

“Why? What would you do?”

“Believe me, my mind is churning with ideas.” She laughed again.

“There’s just one thing, Liana. Be careful today. Make sure anything you stand on is solid and well built. Don’t even drink anything unless you see someone else pour a glass from the same container and drink it. Also, be extra careful about your makeup.”

She gazed searchingly at him. “You’re worried about me?”

His grin was meant to disarm. “I just don’t want any more scars on that lovely body of yours. When I see bruises, I feel as if I have to handle you carefully.”

His easy manner relaxed her. She grinned back. “Oh, really? I hadn’t noticed you handling me with any particular care. As a matter of fact, I distinctly remember—”

He leaned down and kissed her quiet. When he finished, she forgot what they had been talking about. “We better get to the dining room,” she murmured, “or we’re going to cause a scandal right here on the stairway.”

He laughed, turning her so that they could take the final steps to the immense entry hall. “I’m sure SwanSea’s walls have seen much more scandalous events.”

“You’re probably right,” she said, then noticed Caitlin speaking with a group of people. Her wave produced a smile and a friendly nod of acknowledgment from Caitlin.

“Caitlin will be running six different ways today in preparation for tonight’s ball,” she said as they threaded their way around yet another group. SwanSea was at capacity.

“And don’t forget the auction. Speaking of which, are you sure you won’t let me buy you one of the paintings?”

“I’m sure. I told you—”

Richard stopped, his expression instantly hostile.

Curious, Liana followed his gaze. Jean-Paul Savion was walking toward them.

Her mouth fell open; she'd thought he was still ill and at his home in Paris.

But she wasn’t the only woman In the hall who stared.

Dressed as always in his trademark black, Jean-Paul was a tall man, with heavy-lidded dark eyes and long black hair, pulled back and secured at the nape of his neck. SwanSea was filled with celebrities for the weekend, but Jean-Paul had a presence that tended to halt women in their tracks.

When he reached them, he leaned down to her and kissed first one cheek, then the other. “Hello, cherie. Surprised?”

“Stunned, frankly. I thought you were too ill to travel.”

“As you can see, I have recovered.”

Actually, he didn’t look at all recovered, she thought, but had no chance to say so.

He turned to Richard and raised his eyebrows in a manner both imperious and inquiring.

She couldn’t imagine a worse time for this particular meeting to happen, she thought. But then again, she would be hard-pressed to come up with a good time. She tried to steel herself as best she could for what was to come. “Jean-Paul, this is Richard Zagen. Richard, Jean-Paul Savion.” Neither man made a move to shake hands, and each regarded the other with blatant antagonism and contempt.

Richard was the first to speak. “If you two will excuse me, I have a full day ahead of me.”

She grabbed his arm. “But I thought we were going to have breakfast.”

Richard pointedly fixed his gaze on Jean-Paul. “All at once, I’ve lost my appetite.” And without another word, he whirled and stalked off.

Liana stared after him, unaware that her heart was in her eyes.

Jean-Paul regained her attention by taking her hand and tucking it into the crook of his arm. “I, personally, could eat a horse. Do you suppose, Liana, that they serve horse here?”

She gave a sigh, inaudible to all but the man beside her. “I’m sure all you have to do is ask, Jean-Paul.”

She signaled to the hovering waiter, then leaned back in her chair as he whisked her plate away. “All right, Jean-Paul. I’ve eaten. You’ve eaten. You’ve given me your latest medical report. You’ve told me about your flight over on the Concorde, about the young girl you met and you think might be interesting to photograph. You’ve even told me about the small plane you rented to fly you from New York to here. Now, don’t you think it’s about time you tell me why you’re here?”

He tossed his napkin onto the table and reached into the pocket of his black jacket for a long, slim cheroot and a gold lighter. Only after he had lit the cheroot and replaced the lighter did he answer her. “I am here because of you, cherie.” “Me? I don’t understand.”

“Steve placed a call to me after you fell down the grand staircase. He seemed to think that the light could have been rigged to fall.”

She rolled her shoulders uneasily. “I know. He told me, but the idea seemed so preposterous—” “I thought so, too. I thought so, that is, until he called me and told me about Rosalyn’s unfortunate reaction to the face powder. Except for a fluke, cherie, that powder would have been applied to your face.”

“It was a strange allergic reaction. Chances are, if she had put it on my face, nothing would have happened.”

He drew deeply on the cheroot, then exhaled a long stream of smoke. “Maybe you are right, maybe you are not. My guess is you are not.”

She twisted in her seat. She should have been comforted by the fact that Jean-Paul was here and now she had someone to whom she could tell her fears. But she could only think about how furious Richard had been when he had seen Jean-Paul.

“It was Steve’s call yesterday," he went on, “Informing me of your fall from the ladder, that finally sent me to DeGaulle to catch the first available Concorde to the United States.”

“Steve shouldn’t have—”

“Steve did absolutely the right thing. The only thing that would have been better Is if you, Liana, had called me yourself.”

She fell silent.

Through a veil of smoke, he studied her. “I have never seen you more radiant,” he said carefully. “I really hope you are going to tell me that Richard Zagan is not the cause.”

“I’m afraid he is.”

“Mon Dieu! Has he been here the whole time?” She nodded. “At first the tension between us was thick enough to cut with a knife. Then,” she shrugged, "things just exploded. ”

“Exploded.” His face twisted with anger, and he savagely put out the cheroot in a crystal ashtray. “The question is—are you going to get caught In the fallout?”

She met his gaze levelly. “Without a doubt.”

 “Then put an end to it, Liana. Put an end to it right now.”

“It will end on its own soon enough.”

He took in the set features of her face and sighed.

“Then I guess while you are still radiant, I should photograph you.”

“You’re not going to take the shoot over from Clay are you? Not when we’re so close to being finished.”

“No, I’m not here to take over. But I
will
observe the final shoot today.”

She shook her head. “You can't. It will shake Clay’s confidence.”

He leaned forward and jabbed the table with a finger. “Who the hell
cares
about Clay’s confidence? What is important is that you remain safe.” 

“You can’t do it, Jean-Paul. You know you can’t. It wouldn’t bother you one iota if another photographer watched over your shoulder. But then there are only a handful of photographers in the world as good as you. Clay will come apart if he thinks you’re checking up on him. ”

“I
trained
him. Liana. He has had me present in the studio many times before. ”

“This is different. You trusted him enough to let him take this important assignment on his own, and he’s done a very good job. Let him finish it.”

“Merde!” Jean-Paul flung himself back against the chair.

She looked at him. “You know I’m right in this.” 

He held up a hand. “All right, all right. Maybe my presence will be enough to deter any more
accidents.
But, Liana, if I hear that so much as a hair on your head is harmed today, I will shut down not only the shoot, but this entire place. ”

 His concern drew a smile from her, her first since she had seen him. "You look tired. Why don’t you go up to your room and lie down?”

He rubbed his hand across his eyes. “I hate to admit it, but I think I’ll have to do exactly that. This virus hasn’t completely left my system yet.” She stood, walked around the table, and kissed his cheek. “Get some rest. I’ll see you this evening.”

The dark clouds that gathered on the horizon during the afternoon set the mood for Clay, Liana, and the rest of the crew, and when the thunder, lightning, and rain came, the stormy atmosphere seemed right.

Even though Jean-Paul was as good as his word and did not show up at the conservatory where they were shooting, the knowledge that he had arrived was enough to affect everyone. Clay’s nerves were evident in every order he gave, and his tension spread to the rest of the crew.

As for herself, Liana’s strain increased by the minute. Richard’s advice was always in the back of her mind. But how could she be on guard against the unexpected? And how could she tolerate the thought that there was someone who actually wanted to hurt her? By late afternoon, she had reached the point where she jumped every time anyone spoke to her.

She could attribute two of the accidents to herself, she decided. If she hadn’t lost her concentration, she wouldn’t have fallen down the stairs; and if she hadn’t been driving so fast, she would have seen the debris. That left the ladder and the face powder. Wood rotted, it was as simple as that. And as for the powder, they would have to wait for the chemical analysis to determine what had gone wrong with it.

She loved Jean-Paul, but she wished with all her heart he hadn’t come. She wanted these last hours with Richard to be spent happily, not in anger.

By the end of the afternoon, when Clay called, “That’s all until tonight,” Liana was more than ready to stop. She was tired, irritated, jittery, and unable to endure one more trauma, whether it be a touch or a loud voice.

She ducked behind the changing screen and quickly put on flats, taupe slacks, and a bright red cotton, short-sleeved sweater. The rain had slackened to a fine mist, and she had every intention of taking a walk. But when she emerged, Richard was waiting for her, and one look told her he was still as angry as he had been that morning.

His eyes glinted like ice crystals. “I really didn’t expect to see you here.”

His sarcasm had the same effect on her as the sound of nails on a chalkboard. “Where did you think I’d be?”

“With Savion, of course. After all, the two of you have been apart almost two weeks. I supposed he would want some
private
time with you. At the very least, I thought he would be here.”

“Well, you were wrong on both counts, weren’t you? Does that tell you anything?”

“What should it tell me?”

“Oh, I don’t know. How about that your suspicions regarding Jean-Paul and me are wrong, in fact, have
always
been wrong?”

“Who has suspicions?” he asked harshly. “I have hard, cold knowledge, sweetheart. Remember? I was there when you went from my bed to his in one very short afternoon.”

“I did no such thing!”

He stepped closer, invading and taking control of the air she was trying to pull into her lungs.

“Are you denying that you lived with Savion?” In her peripheral vision she caught a glimpse of Sara and Clay, unabashedly eaves-dropping, but she was too upset for their presence to matter. “Yes, Richard, I did live with him. He took me in when I had no other place to go.”

“Excuse me? What was wrong with where you’d been staying?”

“You were there. And I’ve already told you why I had to leave.”

“Yeah. Right. Because you had fallen in love with me. I almost have that part straight. What still bothers me—only a little, you understand—is
why,
loving me as you say you did, you became Savion’s lover.”

“Dammit, I was
never
Jean-Paul’s lover! I’ve told you that time and again.”

“Then, dammit, why can’t I believe you?” 

“Because you’re a fool!"

He raised his hand, and she instinctively recoiled, unsure whether he meant to strike her or caress her. Either act at this moment would have been intolerable to her. Suddenly he turned and walked swiftly from the conservatory.

The overwhelming need to escape seized her— she wanted to go somewhere,
anywhere
that was quiet, isolated, peaceful. She wheeled and ran out the back door of the conservatory.

It was growing darker, but she struck out across the grounds.

Damn Richard! One way or the other he had dominated her entire adult life. It had to stop. The deceit of her father had altered and affected both of their lives. But Richard knew everything now. Why couldn’t he understand her side, see more clearly?
Why couldn’t he love her?

She had admitted her foolishness and her stupidity. Their only chance lay In his ability and willingness to let go of the past, but he refused. He seemed blocked about Jean-Paul.

The mist should have cooled her anger. The fast pace she walked should have relieved some of her tension. But she found herself growing more and more agitated. In her mind,
he
was the one who was now being foolish and stupid.

Some time later, she came to a stop in front of Leonora Deverell’s crypt and blinked. What on earth was she doing here? Through the increasing darkness, she stared at the letters that spelled Leonora’s name. Strangely, her mind went back in years and distance to Paris and another Leonora she had met about a year after she had left Richard. When she had told him that the Leonora she had known there had given up everything for love, he had said he didn’t believe in love.