Falling for the Rebel Falcon

This came uncomfortably near to her own actions, but by now her spirits were rising and she was able to say theatrically, ‘Oh, surely not! You could never be so scheming and dishonest.’

He grinned. ‘Believe it or not, there are people in the world who’d descend to that.’

‘I’m shocked! Shocked!’

‘Naturally. You and I rise above such scandalous behaviour.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Unless, of course, it’s really necessary to push the boundaries.’

‘There really are people who sink so low? You must tell me about them.’

‘I will. We’ll discuss it over dinner tonight. I promise you’ll have a good time.’

That depended on how you defined a good time, she thought. So far she was achieving everything she’d wanted—tricking her way into the inner circle, an invitation to the wedding. That wasn’t a good time. That was a wonderful, fantastic time.

And as if to underline her good fortune, she had the company of a man whose brooding good looks might have been designed to make everything thrilling. Even his slightly fierce manner, instead of being off-putting, was merely intriguing.

‘You don’t answer,’ he said. ‘Are you afraid that I’m going to take advantage? Don’t be.’ His wolfish eyes gleamed, but his smile softened the look. ‘Even if you weren’t poorly, this is strictly a performance to convince my father. Just be at my side, and let me put my arm around you so that he can see. But when we’re alone you won’t have to fight me off, I promise.’

‘That makes me feel a lot better,’ she said untruthfully.

‘Then you’ll do it?’

She smiled at him. She had the sudden feeling of standing at the edge of a high cliff. One false step meant danger, but danger didn’t frighten her. Danger was like fun: exhilarating.

‘I’ll do it,’ she said.

‘Splendid. I’ll arrange for the hotel to send you a maid to help you dress, and I’ll collect you at six-thirty. And … er … if you’d like to buy a new dress—at my expense—’

‘Certainly not!’ she said primly. ‘I can dress myself appropriately.’

‘Of course you can, but—’

‘And I prefer to dress myself,’ she added with a perfectly calculated amount of injured virtue. ‘I hope you understand that.’

‘Perfectly. Please don’t be insulted. I was merely showing my gratitude.’

‘But I’m doing this because I want to,’ she assured him. ‘We agreed that I owe you a favour, since I damaged your suit.’

‘Since you—? Oh yes.’ He looked down at himself, almost as though remembering for the first time. ‘I must go and change. Goodbye. I’ll see you later.’

As the door closed behind him she breathed out. He was doing her a much bigger favour than he could imagine, but he mustn’t be allowed to suspect. She knew a twinge of guilt, but then determinedly concentrated on the business at hand. Success. That was what really mattered.

The wheelchair arrived an hour later, followed by the maid Leonid had arranged. She assisted Perdita into a dark blue cocktail dress that emphasised her slender figure, while having long sleeves and a high neck. It was just a pity, she thought, that the wheelchair hid most of this. The sooner she was on her feet and able to display her advantages the better.

So much seemed to have happened at the same time. Even through the pain and confusion of her fall she had still been intensely aware of Leonid as a man. She could still feel his arms about her body as he carried her up the stairs, as easily as if she weighed nothing.

The accident restricted her, yet gave her his company as nothing else could have done. It would take time before she knew how she felt about that. But she was smiling at herself in the mirror.

She tried her blonde hair curled high and elaborately, then loose and flowing about her shoulders. Finally she settled for flowing, liking the natural air it gave her.

At precisely six-thirty there was a knock on her door. Leonid was there, handsome in white dinner jacket and bow tie.

‘You look almost perfect,’ he said seriously.

‘Almost?’

‘There’s just one little thing missing.’ He opened a tiny box, revealing a pair of pearl earrings. ‘Please accept these and don’t be offended. It’s just my way of thanking you.’

‘I’m not at all offended,’ she said truthfully. ‘They’re so lovely.’

‘Let me put them on for you.’

Gently he moved back her hair and fixed the earrings. Perdita watch him in the mirror, trying not to be too conscious of his fingers brushing against her skin.

‘Now I must pin my hair up,’ she said. ‘Otherwise nobody will see them.’

‘Does anyone else need to see them?’ he asked softly. ‘We know they’re there.’

‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘We know.’

He studied her for a moment before letting her hair fall back.

‘Beautiful,’ he said, taking up his position behind the wheelchair. ‘Shall we go?’

As he wheeled her along the corridor she asked, ‘Has your father arrived yet?’

‘No, but Freya’s had a call to say he’s on his way.’

Suddenly he paused, looking down the wide staircase, the same one on which she had staged her ‘fall’. Below them, in the hall, Perdita could see several young men.

‘My brothers,’ Leonid said. ‘At least, some of them.’

Just then one of the men glanced up, nudged another and pointed.

‘That’s Darius and his wife, Harriet,’ Leonid said. ‘Let’s make a grand entrance. The elevator’s along here.’

As they descended he said, ‘By the way, why are you in a wheelchair?’

‘What?’ she asked, aghast. ‘You know why. You were there—’

‘I mean what do we tell them?’ he explained. ‘They’re bound to ask about you and we need to say the same thing.’

‘Oh yes, of course.’

‘If you’re going to fool people you have to plan your story in advance,’ he said, amused. ‘But I guess you’re not a very experienced liar, are you?’

‘Am I not?’ she asked wildly.

‘No, otherwise you’d have known that you have to set it up first.’