The Winter Bride

She finally headed upstairs, where the housekeeper showed her into a large bedroom which connected with the even more spacious room where the older woman had been keeping Jake occupied. An evening meal was suggested, and her son’s likes and dislikes were discussed in almost embarrassing detail.

But not by word, look or gesture did Epifania even hint that Jake might be anything more than the child of a guest. Angie scolded herself for the guilty conscience which had made her far too imaginative earlier. Of course Epifania hadn’t spotted any instant resemblance which linked Jake to her employer! Clearly the housekeeper was just extremely fond of children.

Forty minutes later, Angie and her son were summoned down to eat. One solitary place was set at the massive polished table in the imposing gold and blue dining room, and, to the left of it, a high chair for Jake. Evidently Leo was not to join them. But then undoubtedly Leo did not dine at so early an hour. When Angie took Jake back upstairs, a positive feast of plush soft toys and a small mound of packages awaited them in his bedroom. A giant furry giraffe was prominent in the spread.

As Jake whooped in delight and rushed to investigate, Angie stilled in surprise and dismay on the threshold.

‘You see? A young child is easily distracted with new toys,’ Leo drawled with cool superiority from behind her.

Sharply disconcerted because she hadn’t heard his approach, Angie whipped round. ‘Where did all these things come from?’

‘A friend made the selection for me and had them sent over. There should be some clothes as well.’

Angie reddened with discomfiture. ‘And how much did this generous gesture of yours cost?’

Leo shifted a relaxed shoulder in a dismissive shrug. ‘That’s irrelevant.’

‘Is it?’ Angie queried with embarrassed heat. ‘Surely you can appreciate that I can’t accept this stuff?’

‘It was nothing…forget it,’ Leo responded drily.

‘But I can’t let you just pay for it all!’

His beautifully expressive mouth curled. ‘Don’t make me drag up that past you’re so very reluctant to recall.’

‘And what’s that supposed to mean?’

‘When it comes to moral principles, we both know you are not Pollyanna.’

Understanding came too late to protect Angie from that humiliating reminder. She turned white as if Leo had struck her. He was referring to the thefts.

Leo made an impatient movement with one brown hand. ‘Try just to be yourself around me, Angie. I loathe hypocrisy…and all this fuss about a few necessities for a child? Who do you think you are impressing with this charade of objections?’

Angie backed unsteadily into the bedroom and closed the door. She wanted to race back out again and grab Leo by his arrogant, judgemental throat and scream, I am not a thief! She wanted to proclaim her innocence with the very strongest force. But she had surrendered that right of her own volition over two years ago. Only by naming the true culprit could she clear her own name, and, if she did that, she would still cause unthinkable damage…

Leo would not allow even a reformed and deeply repentant thief to remain in his grandfather’s home. He would bring in the police and press charges without hesitation. Leo had no liberal convictions where crime and punishment were concerned.

Lost in increasingly distressing introspection, Angie undressed Jake and bathed him in the en suite. Leo despised her for her apparent greed and dishonesty. Why hadn’t she faced up to that harsh fact sooner? Just minutes ago, his distaste and anger had rung out as clear as a bell. And she had drawn his censure by daring to behave as if she wasn’t the greedy, grasping profiteer and eager free-loader he undoubtedly saw her as. Leo believed she had got off too lightly for her sins. And no doubt he also thought that returning to Deveraux Court to grovel to Wallace and cringe at the knowledge that everyone knew her to be a thief was a long-overdue slice of her just desserts.

The packages revealed a sensible skeleton wardrobe for Jake. Underwear and pyjamas, a duo of sweaters, shirts and trousers, all bearing the brand name of a reasonably priced chain store—unlike the array of blatantly expensive toys. Sighing, Angie tucked Jake into the comfortable single bed. Over-tired now, her son flipped fussily between the soft toys which had earlier enthralled him, and then he said that fatal word which Angie had been hoping not to hear.

‘Waff…where Waff?’

‘Waff’s not here. I’m sorry,’ Angie groaned as Jake’s bottom lip began to wobble alarmingly, big dark eyes suddenly flooding with tears.

‘Want Waff!’ Jake sobbed.

Fifteen minutes of lamentations later, the housekeeper had joined Angie in her efforts to console and distract Jake, but the whole house continued to echo with the boy’s noisy, convulsive sobs.

Without warning, Leo strode in. In an off-white dinner jacket and black silk bow-tie, he was clearly on his way out for the evening. He cast a grim glance down at Jake, an abandoned slump of utter misery on the bed. ‘Your son knows how to get what he wants.’

‘That’s not fair, Leo,’ Angie muttered in reproach.

Releasing his breath in a slow, driven hiss, Leo crouched fluidly down beside the bed and gently shook Jake’s shoulder to gain his attention. ‘Jake…I’m going to get Waff.’

‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep,’ Angie hissed, but it was too late. Her son’s damp, tousled head had come off the pillow and a look of pathetic hope was already blossoming in his tear-drenched eyes.

‘If George Dickson wants to be sued through the courts for a pink giraffe, I’ll do it,’ Leo swore, vaulting upright again.

‘Don’t be daft…that would take forever.’

‘Give me an hour… George struck me as a very level-headed and rational man.’

Stunned, Angie watched him stride back out again. Leo was planning to drive over to the Dicksons’ to demand custody of a pink giraffe? Jake sat up, rubbing at his eyes. ‘Waff…?’ he mumbled with a hint of a wobbly smile.

‘Wait and see…maybe,’ Angie said carefully.

Leo was back, however, within the hour. He came through the door with Waff extended like a small but tremendously important peace offering. Jake shot out of bed like a jet-propelled missile, hurled himself ecstatically at Leo’s knees and accepted Waff back, tucking the battered toy possessively under his arm. ‘Night, night,’ he said happily, accepting Angie’s help to climb back into bed.

‘How did you do it?’ Angie whispered as Leo moved back to the door again.

‘Dickson was so embarrassed, he couldn’t hand Waff over fast enough. He sends his apologies for what he termed “an unfortunate misunderstanding”,’ Leo informed Angie very drily over his shoulder.

‘Really?’ Angie followed Leo out into the corridor. ‘What else did he say?’

‘I’m afraid I don’t have the time to tell you.’

Belatedly, Angie reread the significance of the dinner jacket he wore and flushed uncomfortably. ‘You’re running late again.’

His dark eyes gleamed as he studied her. ‘And tomorrow morning I’m flying over to Brussels for a few days. You’ll have the house to yourself until Thursday.’

He went on down the stairs, and Angie listened to the distant thud of the front door and glanced in at Jake again. Leo’s son had gone out like a light, Waff a barely visible pink splodge tucked under his chin. For some reason she found that she couldn’t stop wondering who the lady in Leo’s life was… Did she play games? Probably not. Games were the province of the young and brash and insecure, she reminded herself heavily. And quite the reverse of appealing when recognised for what they were by the quarry.

In the early hours, Angie lay awake. Leo hadn’t come home, Leo obviously wasn’t coming home—and why had she been unconsciously straining to hear his return? she asked herself with angry self-loathing. Take the average single male on a Saturday night—he did not sit in toasting his feet by the fire. When that same male was also gorgeous, rich, oversexed and spoilt for female choice, he was undoubtedly involved in an intimate relationship, and extremely unlikely to come racing home like Cinderella, struggling to beat the clock at midnight.

Switching on the light, she peered at her alarm clock. Almost two. The house was silent as the grave. Desperate for something to read to pass the time, she slid out of bed, automatically reached for her towelling dressing gown and then realised that, in her eagerness to escape Claudia, she hadn’t retrieved it, or several other garments which she could ill afford to lose, from the wash. More things to replace, and she had barely five pounds to her name, she reflected dully. Furthermore Christmas was hurtling towards them at break-neck speed and she had next to nothing bought for Jake.

She crept downstairs and into the library. Surprise, surprise… Leo’s shelves were packed with books written in Greek. As she began flipping irritably through a pile of business magazines in search of something lighter, the door suddenly opened. In fright, Angie almost jumped a foot in the air.

Bold dark eyes whipped over her paralysed figure. ‘What are you doing in here?’

Recovering, Angie pushed an awkward hand through her tumbled hair. ‘I was looking for something to read—’

‘On my desk?’ Leo prompted drily, possibly because she was standing only a foot from it with the air of being caught in mid-flight.

‘I haven’t been anywhere near your desk,’ Angie muttered defensively, backing away from it as Leo moved slowly forward. ‘I was glancing through the magazines on that chair.’

‘Since when were you interested in electronics?’