The Price of Scandal (11 page)

Chapter Eleven

I
T WAS
no surprise that several of the figures who emerged from the vehicles wore uniform. What was less expected was the distinctive blue hair of one who was not in uniform.

Beside him Neve suddenly yelled loudly, ‘Hannah! It’s Hannah!’ And a moment later began to pelt across the snow-covered field towards their rescue party.

The identity of that figure was no longer a mystery.

Smiling to himself, Severo followed, slowing his pace deliberately to give them a few moments alone for what was bound to be an emotional reunion.

As he got closer it was clear that emotions were running high—extremely high!

He saw Neve move in for a hug only to be shoved away by her stepdaughter, who towered a good five inches over her.

‘This is all your fault!’ the girl yelled. ‘If you’d let me go to France with Emma none of this would have happened, but no,
you
had to make me spend the holiday with you because you’re only happy when you’re making me miserable!’ She burst into noisy tears that stopped temporarily when she screamed, ‘I really wish you’d died in the snow.’

‘Hannah, I’m sorry.’

Severo, who had been standing there willing Neve to do or say something to reprimand her stepdaughter, was stunned.

‘Oh, drop the act, why don’t you?’ the girl jeered. ‘They’re all on your side now, so you can relax and be yourself—a total bitch!’

Severo’s jaw tightened as he watched Neve flinch and bite her quivering lip. He found it totally extraordinary that she made no attempt to remonstrate with the child or even defend herself from the accusations.

‘Go on, cry, that’ll really get you the sympathy vote,’ Hannah sneered.

It was the last straw. The girl had lost her father, but it did not in his eyes excuse her outrageously rude and vicious manner.

Neve was amazed to see Severo walking towards her. The truth was she had fully expected to see him walking in the opposite direction, or even running!

And who could blame him?

She doubted any man expected to meet a girl one day and then be dragged headlong into the middle of an ugly family drama the next!

What was he doing? Neve wondered, watching as he stopped a few feet short of the angry teenager. Hannah, noticing his protective stance beside Neve, rounded on him.

‘Ask her—ask her if she ever loved him and see what she says.’ She turned back to Neve and screamed, ‘If he hadn’t been
James Macleod
you wouldn’t have looked at Dad twice! Do you think that I didn’t always know that you married him for his money? Only you didn’t expect to get stuck with me as well, did you?’

Neve, who knew the girl was hitting out in her pain, allowed the accusations to pass over her head, but she could not allow the final quivering claim to pass unchallenged.

‘I have never felt I was stuck with you, Hannah,’ she said quietly. ‘I know what it’s like to lose your parents. I just want to be your friend.’

‘Friend? Like I’m ever going to be
that
desperate. You were his bit on the side, weren’t you? Even when Mum was alive, probably! You think I don’t know that you’d have been happy if I’d died last night.’

Neve, sure that not even Hannah believed the ludicrous claim, shook her head and said softly, ‘I know you miss your dad, Hannah, but do you think he would—?’

There was no warning as the overwrought teenager reacted. The open-palmed blow scored a direct hit on Neve’s right cheek.

‘Don’t you dare talk about my dad!’

Neve staggered backwards, one hand against her face, the other lifted to stop Severo reacting. She could feel the anger rolling off him in waves.

‘Enough. Apologise!’

He did not raise his voice, if anything he lowered it, but his icy tone had a quality that ensured he would be heard.

Neve watched with a sinking heart as Hannah, her face set in a snarling sneer, spun in his direction.

‘What’s it got to do with—?’ Her snarling voice faded, she did a literal double take, her insolent sneer vanishing as she met Severo’s eyes.

He angled a dark brow and at his most biting said coldly, ‘Well? I am waiting.’

Hannah, visibly struggling to resurrect her defiance, lifted her chin. ‘You can wait all you like.’ Her show of bravado faded as she met Severo’s stare and added with a childish pout, ‘I d…don’t see what it has to do with you. I don’t even know who you are.’

‘I am the person who wishes to hear you apologise to the woman who, regardless of the danger, followed you into a blizzard. The woman you struck.’

Tears formed in her eyes. ‘She hates me.’

The self-pitying quiver was wasted on Severo, who regarded her with an expression of chilly displeasure. ‘It would be no wonder if she did,’ he mused, ‘because I have to tell you you do not come across as a very loveable young woman.’

‘Severo!’

At the sound of his name Severo glanced Neve’s way.

‘That’s enough,’ she told him.

‘No, I do not think it is,’ he contradicted, turning back to Hannah. In his judgement a few home truths were overdue. ‘In my experience hate does not normally motivate someone to put her own life at risk.’

‘She didn’t—’

‘Yes, she did.’ He watched the expression of shocked realisation cross the teenager’s face and, satisfied he had made his point, continued.

‘Your stepmother risked her life trying to save you. And all the thanks she gets is abuse both verbal and physical. Does that seem fair to you?’

‘It was her fault—’

Severo lifted his hand to halt the mutinous interruption and Neve was amazed to see Hannah respond meekly to the silencing gesture.

‘I am speaking. You will listen. Many people have risked their lives to save you, all because you behave like a spoilt child. I think that instead of flinging the kindness of those who care for you back in their faces you might stop feeling sorry for yourself, take responsibility for your actions and show some gratitude.’

Neve stepped forward, her soft heart twisting in her chest at the sight of Hannah’s tears, a pathetic sight that seemed to leave Severo unmoved.

‘Severo,
please
,’ she hissed in a charged undertone. ‘Can’t you see she is upset? Leave it—you’ll only make things worse…’

‘Is that possible?’

Neve was forced to concede he had a point.

‘I am waiting.’

To Neve’s utter astonishment, after a short pause Hannah glanced her way. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it to happen. I just…thanks,’ she blurted, adding, ‘and I don’t really wish you’d died.’

‘I’m just glad you’re all right.’

She mouthed thank you at Severo before she put her arm around the weeping teenager, who began to weep louder as she leaned down and pressed her face into Neve’s shoulder.

Judging that his male presence was superfluous to requirements, Severo moved tactfully away.

A figure in uniform appeared at his shoulder.

‘You’ll be the couple who took shelter at Coombe Barn? You contacted us last night?’

‘Yes.’ Severo shook the hand extended to him and introduced himself. ‘Severo Constanza.’

‘You must be thinking this is a bit of overkill.’ The other man laughed, gesturing towards the three nearby parked vehicles.

‘The girl got picked up by a farmer who was bringing feed out to stock. I tell you, she is one lucky girl to be walking away from that without a scratch. Her story was a bit—’ He shrugged and looked awkward.

‘Let’s just say we needed to satisfy ourselves that there were no other casualties, so the squad car was actually already on the way here to check out the crash site when they got a report from the chopper crew that two people had been seen walking in this area and one was being carried, which we read as injured, hence the reinforcements.’ He angled a questioning look at Severo. ‘I’m assuming we were wrong?’

‘No injuries.’ He did not consider his own scratches fell into that category.

Neve put Hannah in the police car beside a sympathetic policewoman and, promising she would be directly back, hurried over to where Severo stood.

Feeling emotionally drained after the confrontation, she walked across to where he stood watching; the uniformed man she had seen him talking to earlier had moved away.

She smiled and laid a hand on Severo’s arm, her expression apologetic as she said ruefully, ‘Sorry about the drama.’

‘You have no cause to be sorry.’ He touched the red mark on her cheek that had not quite faded. ‘Why do you allow that child to treat you that way?’

‘It’s hard when you lose a parent. You feel angry.’ In her case her anger had been aimed at her dead parents; for a long time she had been furious with them for dying and leaving her.

‘But why direct that anger at you?’ Privately he thought that Neve took tolerance to ludicrous lengths and while she continued to do so the teenager would take advantage.

It was a question that Neve had given some thought.

‘Well, even before James died there was some friction,’ she admitted. ‘And afterwards, well, it’s bad enough for anyone to see their name plastered across the tabloids, but for a teenager…’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘Believe me, school girls are not the kindest creatures on the planet.’

Just one word in the reflective narrative leapt out at Severo. ‘Tabloids?’ he echoed, a frown pleating his brow.

The interrogative note in his voice made Neve wish she had not introduced the subject at this moment. Maybe she should have told him the story earlier, though she doubted there was actually a
good
time to mention the fact that you were notorious.

‘When James died there were some pretty salacious stories—you know the sort of thing, a lot of innuendo and a grain of truth.’ Neve kept her voice light; she had determined at the time that she wouldn’t allow the horrid episode to make her bitter. ‘They decided I was a gold-digging bitch.’

She had hoped he’d see the funny side. His stony expression suggested he didn’t, but on the plus side he had not sprung into full protective mode.

Neve had been startled at the way he had waded in to defend her from Hannah. It was nice that he was on her side, but only up to a point. Neve had been looking after herself for a long time and she was not looking for a white knight to fight her battles.

She wanted the man in her life to treat her as an equal.

The silence stretched. When Severo did respond Neve put the oddness in his voice down to exhaustion. Her legs felt like cotton wool and she hadn’t carried anyone for miles.

‘You are
James Macleod’s
widow?’ he asked, recalling Hannah’s earlier tirade.

She nodded. ‘You must be tired—’

‘
James Macleod.’
A nerve along his angular jaw clenched as his glance slid to her burnished head; the scarlet widow, they had called her.

Severo was not in the habit of reading the scandal sheets, but unfortunately for her this was one story he had followed. This one had felt personal, and not just because he had known James. Duped and tricked into marriage by a manipulative, gold-digging younger woman…The story had leapt off the page at him. They could have been writing about his father.

At least Livia had not married a dying man.

Neve had.

The blood throbbed in his temples as he struggled to reconcile the innocent, slightly worried blue eyes raised to his with the manipulative monster whose exploits he had read about.

She had even had a partner in crime: her brother.

‘You knew James?’

Something about his stillness worried her, but she felt no warning premonition—not until she saw his eyes.

‘I did.’

A sick knot of anxiety in the pit of her stomach, she let her hand fall away from his arm. Something was happening here. She didn’t know what it was, but it was not good. Was he still angry about Hannah?

‘James did the PR on several projects for me.’

‘That’s quite a coincidence,’ she said cautiously.

‘Life is full of coincidences.’

Was it a coincidence, he wondered, that he had nearly fallen into the same trap as his father, or was it a case of genetics? Severo rejected the possibility that he was doomed to repeat the same mistakes as his father.

‘Coincidences and family fights.’ Her voice was earnest—she wanted him to understand that Hannah was not bad, just hurting—as she added, ‘You have to understand about Hannah—’

‘I do understand about Hannah.’

How could he not? He had been Hannah, the child nobody had listened to trying to protect the father who had walked willingly to his doom.

And he had taken the first step on that path himself—taken it eagerly. His lips curved in a grimace of self-contempt. She had played the role of innocent stepmother in trouble to perfection and he had swallowed it all.

The worst thing about this situation was that even now, with everything he knew, a part of him wanted this to turn out to be a big mistake! The shameful knowledge filled him with anger, and that anger was directed at the woman who was responsible.

‘James was wealthy.’

Shock flashed across her face as she thought, My God, he believes it! Why had she thought he wouldn’t? Why had she thought he was different? Why had she slept with him?

And she had been worried that he’d be angry on her behalf. Now that was funny, only Neve did not feel like laughing.

‘And, what, thirty years older than you?’

‘James,’ she said quietly, ‘was a lovely man.’ Neve was starting to realise how rare a breed that was.

‘Did you marry him,’ he drawled, ‘because he was a “lovely man?” Or because he wrote you blank cheques?’

‘It wasn’t like that.’

‘So he didn’t leave you money.’ Had she run through it already? Meeting him must have seemed like an opportunity too good to miss. ‘Is it true?’ he pushed, wanting to see her drop the act if only for a moment and admit her guilt.

She lifted her eyes to his and said in a level tone, ‘Is what true?’

It turned out they were right, the people who said that a relationship without trust was doomed. Lucky then, she reflected, that they had not had a relationship—in less than twenty-four hours you couldn’t forge a relationship based on anything but attraction.