Sandra Marton - A Woman Accused

A little shudder rocketed through her. Clearing her throat, she began rising to her feet.

‘I’ll just go to the ladies’ room so you gentlemen can—’

‘No.’ Charles’s fingers clasped hers more tightly, and Olivia winced as she fell back into her seat. ‘No,’ he repeated. ‘Edward’s not—he’s not staying. Are you, Edward?’

The other man smiled, although Olivia wasn’t quite sure that was the correct word to describe the way his lips drew back over his teeth.

‘I’ve a lunch with some business associates,’ he said softly. His gaze swept across the table, where Olivia’s hand, still clutching the cheque, lay trapped by Charles’s. The terrible smile came again, swift and chill, and his eyes lifted to Olivia’s. ‘You had an appointment, you said. But I’d no idea who the lucky man was.’

Charles swallowed convulsively. ‘Do you—do you know Miss Harris, Edward?’

The man’s lips drew back from his teeth. ‘Not half as well as you do,’ he said.

‘Now, wait just a minute,’ Olivia began, and Charles’s fingers squeezed hers again.

‘Miss Harris and I were just—’

‘Don’t tell me.’ The stranger’s gaze drifted with slow insolence from Olivia’s face to her breasts. She felt a rush of crimson suffuse her cheeks; when his gaze finally met hers again, he laughed softly, as if he and she were sharing some awful joke. ‘You were discussing business,’ he said. ‘Any man with half a brain could figure that out.’

The words were innocent, but the insult had been blatant none the less. Olivia snatched her hand from Wright’s and got to her feet. She forced herself to look straight at the man blocking her way.

‘Excuse me,’ she said coldly.

‘Don’t leave on my account, darling. I’m sure you and Charles still have lots of “business” to discuss.’

‘Would you please step aside?’

‘So well-mannered.’ His teeth flashed in that awful smile again. ‘And so lovely. I must admit, Charles, your taste is impeccable.’

‘Just who in hell do you think you are?’ Olivia demanded in quiet fury.

‘Why don’t you tell her, Charles?’ the man said softly, his eyes never leaving Olivia’s face.

‘Edward.’ Charles’s voice was low and tense. ‘You’ve made an error. I told you, Miss Harris is—’

‘A business associate. Of course.’ He reached out suddenly and caught hold of Olivia’s arm. His hand curved tightly around it, the fingers long and tanned against the green silk. ‘That’s a lovely bauble, darling.’ She grimaced as he twisted her wrist upwards. Light gleamed on Ria’s last birthday gift, the diamond and gold watch. ‘You must be pretty good to have gotten such a bonus from old Charlie.’

Olivia twisted her hand free of his. ‘Let go of me!’ she demanded, her voice thrumming with barely suppressed rage. ‘Let go, or I’ll...’

‘You’ll what?’ he asked, so softly that only she could hear him. ‘Struggle? Fight me?’ He shifted his weight so that they stood as close together as if they were lovers. His smile grew lazy, almost sensual; she could feel the heat coming off his taut body. ‘Go on,’ he said quietly, ‘why don’t you try it?’

Her eyes narrowed with anger, and almost of its own volition her hand flashed up to strike his face, but he caught her wrist effortlessly and held it immobile in a strong, harsh grasp. The smile fled, and his eyes changed from cold pools of blue light to black winter ice.

‘Enjoy your lunch, Miss Harris,’ he said, and before she could collect herself enough to think of a response he’d turned on his heel and marched away.

‘Olivia. Olivia!’ She blinked and swung towards the banquette. Charles Wright was motioning to her. Tiny beads of sweat dotted his forehead. ‘Sit down, Olivia,’ he hissed. ‘Everyone’s looking at us.’

But he was wrong. The dimness of the lighting and the location of the booth had protected them; no one was looking at them at all.

Leave, she told herself, just head for the door and keep on going...but her legs felt like rubber. She needed to sit down before she fell down, and she collapsed into her seat, reached for her glass of champagne, and drained it dry.

‘I’m sorry,’ Charles said miserably. ‘I’m really sorry, Olivia.’

Olivia shook her head. ‘Who was that man?’ she whispered.

‘Someone who thinks he owns the world,’ he said grimly.

There was anger and determination in his voice now, but where had those emotions been while their unwelcome visitor had loomed over them? That bastard! The things he’d said to her—the things he’d implied...

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the cushioned banquette. Some birthday this had turned out to be! A stranger for a luncheon companion instead of Ria, an offer to start her own business—even though accepting the money now was surely out of the question—and an encounter with a—a madman, an absolute madman...

‘Livvie!’ The scent of Poison filled the air. Olivia’s eyes flew open as Ria Bascomb dropped into the booth beside her in a flurry of sable and silk. ‘Oh, Livvie, can you ever forgive me?’ She pressed her cheek to Olivia’s and smiled at Charles. ‘Hello, Charlie. Did you two have a nice chat?’

‘Ria,’ Charles said. ‘Thank God you’ve finally arrived. We just—’

‘Well? Did you tell her?’ Ria peeled off her kidskin gloves and tossed them on the table. ‘Well, Livvie, what do you think? I wanted you to hear the details from Charlie, so you’d understand it wasn’t just me trying to give you a...’ Her voice trailed off and she frowned. ‘What’s wrong here? I thought you two would have become the best of friends by now. Livvie, don’t tell me you’re angry because of Charlie’s offer?’

Charles leaned forward. ‘Edward just paid us a visit,’ he said tightly.

Ria’s head came up. ‘Edward? Good lord, Charles. What was he doing here?’

‘Making trouble. That’s all he ever does, isn’t it?’

‘Yes, but Edward—here? What did he say?’

‘He said a lot of awful things—most of them directed at me.’ Olivia’s voice trembled. ‘And I’ve no idea why. Who in God’s name is he?’

Ria and Charles looked at each other, and then they both spoke at once.

‘Edward is—’

‘Edward’s—’

Charles fell silent, and Ria cleared her throat. ‘Edward is—he’s a member of Charles’s family. He—he resents Charles’s wealth, Livvie, oh, it’s all very complicated. Byzantine, you might say. But the bottom line is that he thinks he should have control of the family funds—which he’d squander, of course. And he never misses the chance to insult Charles if he can.’

Olivia puffed out her breath. ‘Well, he’s very good at it, I must say.’ She gave a shaky little laugh. ‘He made me feel as if—as if...’ Her eyes lifted to Ria’s. ‘But he did make me realise one thing. I can’t accept your offer.’

‘My offer?’

‘Well, Charles’s offer. I do thank you, Ria, it was quite the nicest birthday ever, but—’ Olivia took a breath. ‘It really was very generous, but it’s out of the question.’

Ria propped her elbows on the table and steepled her fingers beneath her chin.

‘Why?’

‘Well, because it just is. I mean, Charles doesn’t know anything about the decorating business...’

‘He’s not supposed to. You’re the decorator, remember?’

‘And—and who knows if I can make a go of my own studio? I’ve only been out of school four years.’

‘Nonsense. That fat jerk Pierre hasn’t lifted a pencil to a sketchpad since he made you his assistant and everybody knows it. What else?’

‘Well...’ Olivia flushed. ‘I just wouldn’t feel right taking so much money from a stranger.’