Scarlet Lady

‘I told you not to resort to litigation,’ he said in exasperation.

‘Don’t men normally defend their wife’s honour?’ she asked, her near-hysteria making her sound a little sharp.

‘Against the tabloids?’ One peat-brown eyebrow expressed scorn and disagreement. ‘That’s not how it’s done, Ginny It would be tantamount to saying that their lies could have an effect. Ignoring them is more dignified. You went against my advice and now you’re reaping the consequences.’

‘And you mean to chastise me like a disobedient child?’ she retorted. ‘Can’t you see I need—?’

‘No. I won’t throw Brandon money at you any more. You have your own account; use it,’ he said flatly.

Tears trickled down her cheeks and into the corners of her parted lips. ‘Oh, drat!’ she rasped angrily, knuckling them away, not caring if her eye make-up became smudged. ‘Leo, I wasn’t asking for money; I’ll earn more if I have to—do shows, TV interviews, anything—but...I...’

Overwhelmed, she reached out her arms to him in a piteous gesture. He ignored her plea. She knew that he was stubborn. Once, he’d defied his family to marry her and had defended her when they didn’t rush to produce children as soon as everyone expected. And once he’d admired her success.

Now they no longer had the same goals, she thought miserably. Their lives were drawing apart. They had become strangers and he didn’t want to defend her any more.

‘Your career means a lot to you,’ he observed.

‘Naturally,’ she said huskily. ‘I’ve worked hard. It’s given me self-esteem, Leo!’

‘I know that. I don’t denigrate what you’ve done. I’ve been proud of you.’ His hooded eyes brooded on her. ‘But... you can’t be everything to all people and do it well, Ginny,’ he said in a gentler tone than before.

‘I had to try!’ she cried in exasperation. ‘Don’t you see? If I hadn’t kept my name up top and continued with the shows during the run-up to the trial, I’d have been yesterday’s face in the twinkling of an eye. And what else would I do?’ she asked hotly. ‘You don’t seriously think I could sit around all day discussing menus and arranging flowers, do you?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!’ he growled.

Ginny drove her teeth into her lower lip, knowing that she’d been unfair. He’d never asked that of her. ‘What do you want from me?’ she asked.

‘Exclusivity,’ he rasped rawly.

She controlled the urge to wince. ‘I am yours. Wholly yours.’

‘Are you?’

Her mouth trembled. It was clear that he didn’t believe her. ‘My darling, can’t we start again? Please hold me. I need your arms around me so badly—’

‘And I’ve needed yours many times and you’ve not been there,’ he said quietly. ‘It’s not a marriage any more—’

‘It will be!’ she cried in panic, her hand pressing her chest where her heart banged painfully against her ribs. ‘It’s been a bad time but we can be together again—’

‘We both have to want that,’ he muttered.

Her eyes rounded in horror. His serious expression scared her. Cold to the bone, she dreaded to be told that he didn’t love her any longer. She tried to speak but could only croak out a plaintive little ‘Leo!’

‘It’s true, Ginny,’ he muttered, the line of his mouth as wintry as the atmosphere at Castlestowe. ‘I’m not sure you understand how to live and behave normally any more. Ever since you began to hit the big time, you’ve been spinning into orbit and getting more out of control as the years go by. And now you’re famous people fix things for you. Hair, teeth, nails. They wax your legs, drive you wherever you want to go, arrange your accommodation, whisk you to parties and even dress you!’

“It’s not like that!’ she protested. ’You and the public only see what the film crews want you to see! People dashing around trying to look important and making sure they get into camera shot!’

‘But it’s an unreal life,’ he insisted. ‘What the hell do you know about something as everyday as marriage? You don’t realise it takes nurturing and nourishing to keep it alive and on firel’ he cried, his voice rising. ‘Every time there’s a picture of you with some leering film star or politician I get sniggers from people I know, and I can tell they’re wondering if I believe half the things that are written about you! Then you have to go and defend your precious reputation in open court—and you lose!’ he roared. ‘Ginny, if you haven’t been sleeping with every PR man in sight and any fake-tanned actor who’s up for an Oscar, everyone else thinks you have—and that’s crucifying me!’

‘I know! I’m sorry! I really am!’ she wailed.

Was that it? Had his pride been wounded because his wife was under suspicion? Ginny wondered if he’d had to defend her to his tough old grandfather, apologising for the dreadful publicity. And Leo was hurt. She could see that now; there was pain in his eyes and the lines that ran to the corners of his mouth.

Hesitantly she took a step or two forwards till she was an inch away from him. The depth of his anguish reached out to her heart and she longed to throw herself into his arms, to comfort him—herself too. To feel the strength of him encircling her, protecting her. Even a fighter had to take a rest and she’d been battling for too long.

‘I hate that side of it!’ she said fervently. ‘You have to believe that—’

‘But will you stop taking one assignment after another without giving yourself a decent break?’ he demanded.

The question arrested her. Standing so close to him, her wan face uplifted, her famous tawny eyes wide with wonder, she knew that she wanted to. At that moment she’d had enough, and her job had evolved into a love-hate affair. But it had been her dream since she was tiny to be one of the top models in the world. She’d only just reached that status. Could she give it up and admit that she couldn’t take the heat?

‘I’ve never backed down. Never given up,’ she explained slowly.

Although there was a brief softening of his bleak mouth, he made no reply to her comment. Her troubled eyes searched his. He was scowling, pushing back the dark lick of hair that flopped onto his forehead, and she felt a rush of deep affection at the familiar gesture.

Her long neck arched as she gracefully raised her arms and rested them lightly on his shoulders, which relaxed an inch, and she realised he’d been tensing, waiting for her decision. Hug me, she pleaded with her eyes.

But his arms remained at his sides, his fists clenched in anger. ‘Do it. For me.’

Ginny’s heart fluttered at the stark request. Knowing Leo as she did, it was obvious that he was too proud to beg. All he could do was issue orders. It made her soften with loving empathy, because he couldn’t let go and neither could she. However much they had loved one another, there had always been a thin barrier between them, built by their childhood years of repression. And neither of them had ever dared to let their feelings fly.

But he had to understand what her life would be like without a career. ‘Modelling is all I’ve ever known,’ she whispered. The alternative horrified her, made her sick to the stomach, which was churning even now at the thought of abandoning her individuality and dedicating herself to the Brandon family’s needs and expectations.

‘I ask you again. Will you stop? It’s killing you, Ginny,’ he said gravely. ‘I married a woman with more flesh on her bones. A woman who had time to dance in the moonlight on the daisy lawn.’

It had been the night of their engagement. She remembered that occasion with a deep ache in her heart. ‘Oh, Leo!’ she breathed helplessly. ‘It can be like that again—’ She stopped, overwhelmed, tears forming in her soft eyes.

At last, he reached for her. His arms came around her and she sank weakly against his beautiful body with a groan of relief. The magic was still there, she thought, resting her head on his shoulder, her mouth nuzzling his throat above the soft collar of his casual blue shirt.

‘Can it, I wonder?’ he murmured against her scalp.

The warmth of his words washed over her silky white-blonde hair and sent shivers down her back. The sensuality between them burned into her, tightening the skin on her body and melding them together. It had been so long. Months. Suddenly she needed him, needed the hard, physical release of sex.

‘I know it can,’ she whispered, kissing his throat. And she pressed her palm against his heart, giving a shudder of delight when she found that its beat was bumping erratically against her hand.

‘When I married you,’ he growled, breathing harshly into her ear, ‘you were full of hopes for the future. Don’t deny that we planned children—’

‘That was before your family told me what obligations there were for the heir of Castlestowel And...’ She stifled a whimper of hunger. Leo’s hand was slipping slowly down her slender back towards her hip. ‘I—I didn’t know my career would take off so ferociously!’ she mumbled, trying to concentrate on her explanation. ‘I had no idea I’d be jetting around the world.

‘I feel tired of it all now,’ she admitted. He didn’t know what she’d been through. Perhaps if she told him... ‘Shortly before the trial,’ she said, lifting her heartshaped face up to his, ‘I did sixteen shows in six days—’

‘You didn’t have to.’ He wasn’t looking at her. His eyes were hooded again but she thought that they were fixed on her cleavage, visible above the V of her jacket. The cleavage was almost her signature. Unusual in a top model, she had breasts. And the designers always provided her with clothes that featured them.

Leo had loved that once. He’d feasted his eyes on her photographs and reached for her with a possessive triumph because she was there, beside him, and she was his wife. Who belonged to nobody but him. A shiver ran through her body when she remembered how he’d growled one night after making love to her, ‘I’ll kill any man who takes you from me!’

She watched him lick his lips and warmth flooded her loins. A feeling of devastating relief came with it because they would, could, must make up—now, before the dreaded tea with Arabella.

‘If I’d pulled out of the shows, I would have gone mad, just sitting at home and thinking of the trial while you were up at Castlestowe,’ she said in a low and husky voice. ‘And everyone would have thought I was hiding because I was guilty and ashamed. I had to brazen it out, don’t you see? OK, it wasn’t easy. It, half wrecked me. I had early make-up calls and fittings every one of those days. There were twenty-five TV crews backstage at Dior for starters. But...’

Leo’s firm hands pushed her back a little. ‘But?’ he asked with a frown.

‘It was exciting—is exciting,’ she admitted. ‘My adrenaline runs when I’m working. Besides, I don’t have a choice any more. I have to work if I’m to pay the legal costs. Being a wife and mother is a vocation,’ she said gently. ‘I want children, yes, but... not if it means living in remote Scotland with no neighbours for miles and miles. That’s what you want, isn’t it? Maybe when I’m older and I’m ready to settle down—’

‘I feel so angry, Ginny.’

They were both breathing in a heavy rhythm. Her breasts rose and fell against his hard, lean chest. Grim-faced, he detached one hand and slid it between them, undoing the lowest pearl button.

Maybe this is the way, she thought hazily. They’d get close, be united again. Another button slid free. Control was slipping from her grasp. The need and the hunger for Leo—to share his body, to be comforted by its closeness—was overriding everything else.

‘Give me a little time to earn the money for the costs,’ she croaked as his hand brushed her naked skin beneath the jacket. Desire filled his face. Desire for her. With Leo, she could face anything. Debt, relentless, grinding hours of work, public shame—anything. ‘I’ll be less preoccupied from now on. It was only the terrible pressure of the trial that caused the problems between us,’ she said, not too convincingly. ‘Now that’s over—’

‘You’ll be working twice as hard to keep bankruptcy at bay.’ Leo appeared to be engrossed in the tantalisingly slow process of working the last cluster of pearls through the buttonhole. The jacket swung free, exposing the swell of her breasts. Leo’s lips parted and he whispered in a slow breath of anticipation. ‘Beautiful. I’d forgotten how beautiful.’

‘Leo!’ she breathed, filled with joy.

He reached out with a questing finger to stroke each half-hidden curve. She threw her head back and moaned, suspended in delight. It was a long time since she’d been touched. Her appetite had been suppressed and now it seemed insatiable.

‘Ginny!’ he muttered, his voice shaking with a barely controlled passion. It might have been anger or desire or despair. She couldn’t tell. And she didn’t care. All she wanted was to be held in his arms.

CHAPTER TWO

SLOWLY Leo reached out to draw the jacket from her shoulders. He held its soft folds halfway down her arms so that it acted like a strait-jacket. His avid eyes devoured her high, trembling breasts and suddenly she flinched, distressed by the mixture of anger and lust in the way he studied her.

‘Love me,’ Ginny begged.

‘You want me to be your slave, like the others,’ he said brutally.

‘No! Don’t do this to me, please, Leo—’

He let the jacket slip to the ground. She made to cover her nakedness with her hands, too stunned to think of running away. And there was something compelling about the way he looked at her, something that caught in her guts and twisted and speared her with an undeniable need. Her lashes lifted and she begged him for love with her huge tawny eyes.

‘You want pity?’ he muttered. ‘Or are you acting as I’ve seen you act before, putting on a wistful face to dazzle your public? Hiding your real feelings...’

‘No,’ she whispered, shaking her head. It was heavy. Her whole body felt lethargic and languid. But he wanted sex, and anger drove him, not affection. ‘You know I find it hard to let go, that it takes me a while before...’

She gasped. His arm had drawn her to him. Deliberately he moved her body against his, lightly, tantalisingly, with the finesse of a master with years of experience. The softness of his shirt brushed her nipples and he groaned, giving them a delicate squeeze between his finger and thumb. Just enough to sharpen her hunger, to send needles of desire bursting into each breast. She heard herself moan, felt her pelvis contract and hated herself for being so easily controlled.

‘What are you?’ murmured Leo. ‘Who are you? Witch or angel? A false, heartless woman with an ego larger than Napoleon’s, or perhaps—’

‘I’m no angel. But I’m innocent,’ she protested, reeling under the torment of his fingers. Her breasts felt tight and hot, the flesh glowing for him. Beneath her frantic hands, his shirt moved over his satin skin and she had to force herself not to rip the buttons open and lay her mouth on his breast. Now she had to keep her head and defend herself all over again. To her husband. Or lose him for ever.

Taking a deep breath, she said jerkily, ‘I—I warned you when we married that the media would tell l-lies about me and...’

She lost the thread of her sentence. Her head turned from side to side in pleasure as Leo forced his thigh between her long, silk-clad legs and she couldn’t resist making a small, squirming movement because it might help to hold her need till she’d explained. And then, she thought hazily, they could make love freely, without hate and suspicion.

‘Oh, Leo!’ she whispered, knowing what he was going to do.

His hands were sliding down her hips. They reached the edge of her skirt and slowly, watching her, his velvety gaze flicking from her softly parted lips to her drowsy eyes, he wriggled it up till it was around her waist. Now there was only silk between her hot hunger and his linen-clad knee.

Leo’s jaw tightened when he looked down at the length of her exposed legs. Black Lacroix stockings topped with a deep band of Calais lace. Dove-grey satin briefs. ‘Hell!’ he growled thickly. ‘How could any man not be tempted by you?’

‘I—I freeze them off,’ she rasped, incapable of breathing steadily.

‘Irresistible,’ he said, smouldering grey eyes and brutally tentative fingers hypnotised by the gap above her stocking-tops.

Her pelvis pushed forward a little in demand before she could stop the movement and he smiled in triumph. Ginny closed her eyes in despair because he still didn’t believe that she had been faithful to him. His mouth brushed hers, making her tremble. His palms rotated on her nipples, warm, merciless, till they thrust in shameful dark peaks, elongating painfully, begging for the moistness of his mouth.

Panting, driven crazy, she abandoned all restraint and began to unpick his buttons, feverishly fumbling with them as if she were drunk. ‘Make love to me,’ she said urgently, lifting her beautiful, flawless face.

Leo’s mouth hovered a millimetre above hers. ‘You are the most desirable woman in the world,’ he husked. ‘Envied by millions, coveted by millions.’ Something dark came into his expression. ‘However, for the time being,’ he whispered into her parted lips, their breath mingling, ‘you can consider yourself exclusively mine.’

She wanted to be exclusively his for hours. Leo prided himself on long, sensual lovemaking sessions. Unconsciously, she gave a luxurious stretch of her body. ‘Yes,’ she moaned. ‘Yes, please, Leo.’

‘I’ve wanted to make love to you since the moment you walked in. I’m more than ready.’ He took her hand and placed it on his groin. She groaned to feel him so hard, to feel the leap of heat against her trembling fingers.

‘Leo,’ she whispered. ‘Make love to me properly. Long and slow. As you used to. Please, darling. Please.’

Desperate to persuade him, she stood on tiptoe and slid her hands to his head, pressing it down and kissing him with all her heart and soul. With a wriggle of her hips, she gyrated on the thigh that was thrust between her legs and moved her breasts across his chest—partly to assuage her own demands and partly to entice him to indulge in hours of pleasure with her.

‘Witch!’ he growled throatily. His hands ran down her body possessively. ‘I don’t know whether to hate you or despise you or—’

‘Love me,’ she whispered, twining her fingers in his hair. ‘Please, Leo. Love me.’

With a muttered groan that came from deep inside him, he bore her down to the polished wood floor as if he could no longer bear to hold back, stretching her arms over her head and covering her with his hard body. She felt his mouth on hers, fierce and uncompromising, angry, perhaps, because he wanted her so badly when he thought that she was worthless as a wife. And at the back of her mind she prayed that their lovemaking would bring them close, that the anger would subside and they could start to unravel the tangled threads of their unstitched marriage.

The onslaught of his mouth, teeth, tongue and hands and her frantic attempts to ease her despair with physical energy alone caused them to tumble and roll across the floor, her back sliding on the slippery wood, and Ginny became swamped in a whirl of sensation—the feel of silkwood and the smell of polish on her naked back, the pressure of Leo’s muscular arms around her and the wonderful sweetness of his mouth, tugging gently at her breast.

Lost in deep passion and an uncontrollable hunger, grabbing, clutching, kissing, they slid into a table. Something crashed to the ftoor—a lamp, an ornament; she wasn’t sure what—but Leo ignored everything, intent on possessing her, sweetly caressing every inch of her body as if to drive away any memory she might have of other men.

Equally driven, she gave up trying to undo his buttons and pulled the edges of his shirt with both hands, burying her face in his chest. She wanted him naked, to feel his body against hers, because only then would she dare to believe that they could shut out the threat from all outsiders and prove to one another that they were still in love.

He was as helpless, as frantic as she. Finally his naked body met hers and she let out a long, loud groan of relief. At last he was inside her, stroking her with a fiercely restrained gentleness. Overjoyed, she forced her eyes to flutter open, her lush mouth smiling with pleasure. Ginny arched her body in demand. ‘Love me.’

Her mouth teased his, urging it to soften into a sensual curve. And because she wanted him to desire her more than ever and to remember this moment for a long, long time she used all the arts she’d ever learnt from him, writhing sinuously, clutching his buttocks and thus increasing his unbearably slow and deliberate thrust.

She wanted to make him desperate for her. To love her—her. With a siren’s lure in her eyes, she slid her tongue out and licked the sweat over the curving arcs of his chest, teasing the nipples till he gave a satisfying groan and she felt his rhythm increase to a pitch where she couldn’t think any more, was only capable now of reacting like an animal, wildly driving her body against his, countering his thrust with equally hard, demanding jerks of her own body, drawing in her pelvis to hold him tighter and devouring him with her mouth as he devoured her, as if they’d starved for months and wanted to fill themselves to satiation.

Ginny flung her arms around Leo violently, bearing him over in a wild and uncontrollable tumble that had them both fighting to hold their bodies linked and to maintain the beautiful, shuddering rhythm, while she emptied all her passion into her body, kissing Leo with a fervour born of desperation and urgency.

He was so strong, so beautiful. They had been so in love and she wanted that back—the wonderful moments they’d shared together, the quiet evenings by the firelight, the walks in the park. A groan broke from her parted lips and she bit into his shoulder to stem her distress that their love had been threatened. He gasped and kissed her so hard that she felt the deep pressure of his teeth on her lips.

And then her body began to sing as it had never sung before, every nerve taut and stretched, all the bitter-sweet pain rising with the crescendo of Leo’s fierce movement, the beautiful satin strength within her offering the wonderful promise of a release from all her distress and tension.

‘Ginny,’ he rasped thickly into her hair. ‘Ginny, Ginny!’

She sobbed, groaned loudly, not caring who heard—oblivious of everything but the sensations crawling through her, the tingling, rippling waves driving all conscious thought away, lifting her into a fevered delight that shuddered for a few seconds on a peak of ecstasy and held there, seemingly for ever, while their bodies remained like tensile steel, taut and rigid, only their pulses and hearts and their blood pounding, and everything focused on the lyrical thrust of their loins and the spinning spirals of pagan pleasure that was driving them slowly insane with exquisitely agonising sensation.

And when she thought she’d die of love Leo let out a deep, shuddering groan. The turmoil that had held her in its thrall slowly subsided, easing with it every muscle in her bods.

Beneath him, crushed by him as he lay for a moment in exhaustion-yet still somehow tense—she felt limp and drained. But her face shone with a radiant joy that came from every inch of her body, her heart, her soul. ‘Oh, Leo!’ she mumbled incoherently, blinded by happy tears.

And then he groaned. Once, twice, as if in despair.

His welcome weight lifted away when she wanted him to stay and to hold her in his arms. Her naked body chilled with the emptiness that was left by his absence. Dazed and confused, she struggled to lift her lids and clear her vision. Her heart missed a beat. Sounds nearby told her that he was dressing.

‘Leo?’ she murmured weakly. Even from there she could hear his harsh breathing, rasping like an angry saw. Panic clutched her heart. No, she thought. They were bonded together for ever now...

‘Yes?’

She whimpered at the curtly spoken word. ‘Didn’t you... wasn’t it... good?’ she asked tentatively.

‘Stunningly good. Highly accomplished and extremely satisfying,’ he husked, the words shooting out painfully. His eyes smouldered at her. ‘What a lot you’ve learnt since we last made love!’