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Authors: Fayrene Preston

BOOK: Deceit
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Richard jerked the long skirt up to look at her knee. It was bruised and bloodied.

Liana groaned with dismay. “Oh, no, the dress has blood on it.”

“To hell with the dress,” Richard muttered, gently feeling the area around the open wound. “What about broken bones?”

“He’s right, darling,” Clay said and missed the sharp look Richard shot him at the word
darling.
“Can you extend your leg?”

“I think so.” Trying not to grimace, she stretched the leg outward.

“Does that hurt?” Clay asked.

“Not too bad.”

Richard had been watching her closely. “You may not have any broken bones, but the human body wasn’t made for bouncing off marble. You need to see a doctor.”

“No, really—”

Clay looked up at Sara. “Check and see if they can get a doctor out here quickly.”

“Clay, really, it’s nothing.”

“When the doctor tells me that, I’ll believe you.” He pressed her arm with his hand. “You’re very valuable to us, Liana.”

Abruptly, Richard scooped her into his arms and stood. “I’ll take you up to your room. ”

“No!” The jolt of her fall and the initial shock of seeing Richard had worn off. Now she had to deal with the hard, cold fact that Richard was actually here at SwanSea. Not only that, he was holding her, and all her senses were clamoring as if it were eleven years ago and she and Richard were back in Paris. It would never do. She couldn’t allow the situation to continue. She’d heard the alarm contained in her outburst. Fortunately, over the years she’d learned to adopt a mood at the drop of a hat, and now she wrapped herself in calm as easily as if it were a designer gown. “Please put me down, Richard. I can walk.”

He tightened his arms around her and started down the stairs. “You can prove that after the doctor looks at you. Until then, you should stay off the knee.”

Surprise at Richard’s proprietary manner with Liana held Clay still for a moment, but he caught his breath quickly and said, “Wait a minute. Do you know this man, Liana?”

She looked at Clay without seeing him. It was taking every ounce of her energy to retain her calm demeanor and to fight the steadily growing panic inside her. The warmth and strength of Richard’s body was sapping her will. Instinct was telling her to slide her arms around his neck and melt against him. Logic and reason were telling her that would be an exceedingly dangerous thing for her to do.

“Liana?” Clay asked.

Richard gazed down at her. “Yes, Liana. I’m waiting to hear what you’re going to say, too. I’m sure you’ll use
old
as a modifier, but I can’t even guess what noun you’ll choose.”

Clay planted his fists at his sides. “What’s he talking about?”

“Richard is an old . . . acquaintance. ”

Richard laughed flatly. “The easy way out. I suppose I should have known.”

His hard, sarcastic tone was beginning to hurt more than her knee. “Dammit, Richard, put me down. ”

"So you’ve learned to curse. I’m overcome with admiration, not to mention curiosity. What else have you learned?”

“Richard—”

“For instance, have you learned any really hot lovemaking tricks? Now that would really impress me."

She darted an embarrassed glance at Clay as warmth flared in her cheeks.

“Are you ready to let me take you up to your room without protest now?”

She noted his satisfied expression with a flash of anger. “You embarrassed me on purpose."

“I do everything on purpose these days, Liana. Now be a good girl and tell your photographer that I’m not abducting you against your will. Or would you like me to embarrass you some more?” She briefly closed her eyes. “It’s all right, Clay. I’ll be more comfortable in my room. Just send the doctor up when he comes.”

“Very good,” Richard said with mocking approval. “Now what room are you in?”

“Thirty-three.”

“How convenient. I’m just down the hall.”

Liana had immediately fallen in love with her room at SwanSea. Light and airy, it overlooked a wide green lawn and the endless sea beyond and had been decorated in harmonious colors and soft textures. Even the strong shapes of the light-toned furniture were softened by inlays and floral decorations.

The bed’s four tall posters rose in graceful swirls of carved satinwood. Swags of sea foam green chiffon looped from the top of one poster to the next, then spilled down to the floor to form diaphanous pools.

Until now Liana had felt the mood of the room was soothing. But that was before Richard had invaded its space.

He carefully settled her on the couch, then stood back and eyed her critically. “Raise your skirt.”

She started. “I beg your pardon.”

His lips twisted. “Don’t flatter yourself, Liana. If I wanted to take you to bed, I would. For now, I just want you to lift your skirt off your knee so that the material won’t become stuck to the wound.”

She didn’t trust him or his motives and knew he should be treated with the utmost caution, but his constant taunting had stretched her nerves to the limit. “Look, Richard,” she began, the cadence of her words deliberately slow to ensure the steadiness of her voice, “you saved me from falling down the stairs. You’ve carried me up here. I’m grateful. ”

“Be still my heart. Liana Marchall is grateful to me.”

Her teeth ground together.
“But
I’d appreciate it if you would leave now. Ill be fine until the doctor arrives.”

He leaned down to look her in the eye. “You’re close to the top of the list of the ten most desirable women in the world, Liana. That’s a unique power all its own. But you’ll never have enough power to dismiss me. Not again.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Oh, yes, sweetheart, you did mean. You were trying to get rid of me, but this time, it won’t work—not unless I’m ready to leave.” He straightened, spun on his heels, and headed for the bathroom.

Liana pressed her hand to her heart to restrain its wild beating. It was a vain attempt.
This had to be another of her sweet, unbearable nightmares.
Her dreams of Richard over the years had sometimes been so real that, when she woke, she would roll over, absolutely sure that she would find him beside her. Always there would be nothing but an empty pillow.

But now he was here; she was undoubtedly wide awake; and her memories and dreams were nothing in comparison to the vital, entirely compelling, masculine reality of him.

He returned to the room with a wet washcloth, knelt in front of her, and cupped his left hand behind her knee. With a light delicate touch so at odds with such a tough man, he sponged the blood away from the broken skin. “This isn’t too bad,” he murmured.

She stared down at his bent head. She wasn’t surprised to find his hair still thick and glossy, but she was surprised that her fingers tingled to touch it. “What are you doing here at SwanSea, Richard?”

His steel gray gaze sliced up to her, cold and impenetrable.

Her throat moved convulsively. “I just wondered. I mean, you’re a very important man. Your company has grown twenty times bigger since Her voice trailed off.

“You’ve kept track of me?”

“It’s not hard to do. Over the years, I’ve occasionally picked up the business section of the newspaper. Sometimes there’d be an article about you.”

And then there’d been that time, six years ago, right after her father’s death when she’d attempted to see him. She’d gone straight from the funeral to the airport and booked herself on the next flight to New York. Immediately upon landing in New York, she’d called his office, only to be told by his secretary that he was on his honeymoon.

“Save yourself some anguish, Liana. You have nothing to do with my being here. ”

“I didn’t think—”

His knowing smile made the words abruptly die in her throat. That was
exactly
what she had thought.

“I came because of the auction of art nouveau works that will be held in a few days.”

“Are you a collector?”

He nodded. “And there are quite a few noteworthy paintings up for sale.” His gruff, harsh tone was startling in its contrast to the incredibly gentle way he ministered to her knee. “And I'll save you the effort of asking the next question. Yes, I knew you were going to be here. ”

Her muscles tightened with alarm; her words rushed out in a whisper. “Then, why?”

“I didn’t find out about the fact that you would be here until after I’d booked my reservations. But I decided very quickly it didn’t matter, that I’d be damned if I’d let you ruin my first vacation in years and the chance at the paintings.” He gave her knee a final pat with the cloth, then surged to his feet. “Besides, Liana, it’s a small world. We were bound to run into each other sooner or later.” 

She wondered what he’d say if he knew the lengths to which she’d gone to make sure they didn’t end up in the same place at the same time. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter. Besides, SwanSea is a large resort. I’m sure we’re both going to be busy with different agendas.”

She was no more at a disadvantage with him looming above her than she had been when he’d been kneeling in front of her, but she was relieved when he disappeared into the bathroom to return the washcloth. His absence was a chance for her pulse to return to normal. Unfortunately as soon as he walked back into the room, it began to race again.

His smile, a slash of white teeth, told her he knew how he affected her. “Are you here at SwanSea alone?”

"No, I’m here with Clay and the others.”

“I figured that out, Liana.”

“Then—?”

“Are you and Clay lovers?”

He hurled the question at her with such speed and force, it took her a moment to recover from its impact. “He’s the photographer in charge of this shoot. I hardly know him.”

“Really. Yet he called you darling. What do you call him?”

“Clay.”

He smiled. “I remember when you were in awe of photographers. But, of course, back then, they had the power to make you a star, and you wanted to become a star more than anything. Right? Including more than you wanted me.”

She absorbed the salvo with hardly a flinch and congratulated herself.

He continued without mercy. “Not that one should exclude the other. Except when one uses the method you chose—going from my bed to Savion’s. Damn awkward, Liana.” With each word, his voice deteriorated until it was an abrasive rasp. “And of course, there were the things you said. I’m sure you recall, especially the part about you really not loving me at all.”

“Clay is the photographer on this assignment,” she repeated stonily, “nothing more.”

“I see. So you and he aren’t lovers unlike you and Savion, who are.” His shrug indicated the subject was of supreme indifference to him. “I wondered, that’s all, since Clay was very concerned about you, and I didn’t see Savion around.”

She glanced away. “Jean-Paul is ill. Otherwise he would have been here.”

“Oh, I would have bet on that. I’m sure it would take something of catastrophic proportions to keep him away from you.”

“If he’d come, his interest would have been only in the assignment.” Her teeth snapped together as she emphasized each word. It mattered that he believe her, she realized, and wondered why. After all, it was much too late. “We’re all here to work. The opening of SwanSea is a gala event, and this layout will appear worldwide in all the important fashion, society, and news magazines.”

“More fame and fortune.”

“And more hard work. ”

"I have no doubt. But then I also have no doubt that you receive a great dead of pleasure from what you do. After all, you and Savion work together most of the time, don’t you?”

He was playing a game with her, and she was losing badly. It seemed to her she could feel her nerves fraying, one by one, a condition that absolutely had to be kept from him. If he sensed her weakness where he was concerned, he would close in for the kill. She didn’t answer him.

“Tell me something, Liana. I’m curious.”

She eyed him warily. “About what?”

“Have
you learned any hot lovemaking tricks?” He heard her indrawn gasp of breath and went on. “Even when you were a novice you could turn me inside out and make me jump through hoops. What are you like in bed now?”

“It’s something you’ll never know, Richard.” The smile he gave chilled and transfixed her. So much so, she was unable to move, unable to breathe, unable to stop the painful hammering of her heart against her ribs. When the knock on the door came, she jumped.

One dark brow shot up. “Careful, Liana. That skin of yours is much too pretty to jump out of, especially when it could be put to so many other good uses.”

Liana climbed carefully into bed and gratefully sank back against the pillows. Richard had stood silently and observantly by as the doctor had examined her, then applied antibiotic cream and wrapped a large, white gauze bandage around her knee. Thankfully for her peace of mind, he had left with the doctor. After that, visits from Clay, Sara, Rosalyn, and Steve had had to be endured.

Alone at last she found her thoughts only increased her tension and anxiety.

Richard was actually here.
They had talked. He had held her. Lord, help her!

When she had known Richard eleven years ago in Paris, he had been a gentle and caring man. Now he was hard, cynical, and cruel. He used razor-edged words, and he made no careless moves.

But if he’d changed, she reflected, so had she.

She was no longer the idealistic, naive young girl she had been at eighteen. At twenty-nine, she was much wiser. She was also so full of pain she couldn’t stand to be touched.

She felt as if her skin was too sensitive, and contact with anyone would hurt, violate, or scar her. The idea was all in her mind, of course. She was touched all the time, by hairdressers, makeup artists, designers, and photographers. It was her salvation that she had learned to escape to another place in her mind and block them out.

Suddenly chills of fear shivered through her. She wrapped her arms around her body, but no matter how tightly she hugged herself, she couldn’t stop remembering the unexpected encounter with Richard and her reaction to him. The chills worsened.

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