8 Magnificent Millionaires. Cathy Williams
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Jacobs how I could probably do with another hand around the place to help. Specially leading up to spring. There’s a lot to be done.’
‘Then you should definitely mention it. I’m sure he’d be only too willing to get you the help you need, George.’
‘I’m sure you’re right, lass. Perhaps I will have a talk with him. To tell you the truth, I don’t think Steven is a natural gardener. He’s got his mind on too many other useless things, that boy.’
Perfectly understanding why George had reservations about the younger man’s commitment levels, Liadan nodded in sympathy.
‘Thanks for showing me around, George. It’s been a great way to spend an illicit half-hour. I’ve had a lovely time. Best go in now, though; I need to think about what I’m going to do for dinner.’
‘You go ahead, lass. Feel free to walk about the place whenever you feel the need. I’m always around if you need to know anything about the garden. By the way, I’m glad that story about Mr Jacobs has died down in the papers. She’s a bad ’un, that Collins woman, for telling such lies.’ Tipping his hat, George looked distant for a moment before he jammed his hands into the big patch pockets of his jerkin and headed back down the terracotta bricked path he had walked with Liadan.
Careful not to dislodge any of the papers that littered Adrian’s writing table, Liadan picked up the drained cup and saucer and added it to the tray she’d left on the piano. She was about to vacate the study when she caught a glimpse of an opened newspaper jutting out from the side of the desk that Adrian had his computer on, and instinctively moved towards it.
‘Actress retracts abortion claim,’ she read with thumping heart, alongside a picture of Adrian and his solicitor Edward Barry, taken outside on that awful day when reporters had camped out on his doorstep. Putting down the tray, Liadan sat down in the leather chair opposite the desk and read further. When she got to the part where she learned that Petra Collins and Adrian had comforted each other after her divorce and the brutal, untimely death of Adrian’s fiancée Nicole Wilson, in a terrorist attack on a foreign embassy, she let the paper flutter down unheeded into her lap.
Staring into space for a long moment to gather her thoughts, Liadan felt vindicated in the flood of relief and shock that swept through her body. His fiancée had been killed. That was why he had locked himself away from the rest of humanity, and that was no doubt why he was so bitter. Liadan didn’t have to be a genius to know that Adrian blamed himself for Nicole’s death. She also didn’t have to read the words a little further down the page where Adrian had been quoted at the time of the attack as saying, ‘It should have been me,’ to know that he made himself entirely responsible for what had happened to his fiancée.
On top of that, she read that Petra Collins was ‘extremely regretful’ that she’d taken ‘wrong advice’ and spitefully embellished her brief liaison with Adrian Jacobs to further her own career. Liadan’s relief knew no bounds. Adrian was innocent of all the slander that had been directed towards him, including his own bitter assertion that he was responsible for his fiancée’s death. Despite his savage denial to the contrary, he was a good man…
The echo of the doorknocker resounding through the house just then made Liadan jerk round in shock. Quickly gathering up the paper, folding it, then placing it carefully beside the computer, she went back to the piano to fetch her tray, then hurried out of the study, down the corridor and out into the hall.
Leaving the tray on a little cherry-wood side table that was home to a beautiful Chinese-style patterned vase, she patted down her wayward hair, straightened the hem of her sweater and went to answer the door.
‘Can I come in?’
‘I—no, you can’t! What is it, Mr Ferrers? What do you want this time?’
Staring into Steven Ferrers’ defiant gaze, she suddenly felt as if her stomach had a lead weight inside it. As the distinct smell of sour alcohol floated up to her nostrils Liadan’s fingers curled more tightly round the edges of the door, all her senses on red alert.
‘You and I need to have a little talk, Miss Willow.’ He drawled her name as if it disgusted him and the fingers of chilling cold fear that had crept round her skin grew immediately icier.
‘I’m sorry, but I have nothing to say to you. Now if you’ll just let me—’
The force of his hand grabbing the door and jerking it wide almost sent Liadan flying. As she struggled to right herself Steven swept through the door and pinned her against the wall, his face pressed dangerously close to her own so that the sour smell of booze wafting down at her almost made her sick.
‘Let me go! What the hell do you think you’re doing?’
‘Ice princess, that’s what you are…just the type that gets my goat. Think you’re too good for someone like me, don’t you? You’d rather consort with the likes of that murderer Jacobs!’
‘What are you talking about? He’s not a murderer!’ Shoving against his chest with all her might, Liadan made little impression on Steven Ferrers’ strength. He was slim but hard muscled and she was no match for him. She knew it with a sinking heart. No matter how much she pushed and shoved, he wasn’t going to let her go…
‘Said he was responsible for killing his girlfriend, didn’t he? Said he went back to the Jeep and left her there on the pavement for a bomb to kill her!’
‘That doesn’t make him a murderer, you idiot! Now let me go before you get into real trouble. If your father finds out he’ll be—’
‘Bitch!’ At the mention of his father, Steven’s eyes narrowed to two menacing slits and with no warning he raised his hand and struck Liadan hard across the face. As she reeled from the blow tears started to her eyes and her heart started to pump with stark, cold dread. There was no one around to hear her call for help, she realised. Adrian had gone out and George could have been anywhere. The gardens were huge and rambling. If he was in one of the greenhouses he’d be even less likely to hear her shouts for help.
‘You asked for it, princess. You should have been nicer to me and then you wouldn’t have got hurt.’ His words slurred, Steven put his face closer to hers, paying no attention to her continuing struggle to free herself. Spying the large ceramic vase on the table she’d set the tray on, just inches away from where she stood, Liadan saw a sudden chance to get away. But Steven was pinning her arms to her side as he tried to kiss her and she couldn’t free them.
She would have to try another tack. The chances of it working might be slim, but she had to try because the consequences if she didn’t hardly bore contemplation.
‘You’re right,’ she breathed huskily, lowering her voice. ‘I should have been nicer to you. You’re right. It does get lonely out here. A girl needs—a girl needs someone to keep her warm.’
‘That’s better. I knew you could be sweet if you wanted to. Now stop talking and kiss me.’
‘You’re holding me too tightly. Just let me free my hands, will you? I can wrap my arms around your neck and k-kiss you much better.’ Barely daring to breathe, Liadan tried to make her eyes look wide and seductive as she forced herself to smile up into Steven’s threatening eyes. Would he fall for her little ruse? God help her if he didn’t…Her face still burning from his blow, she’d never prayed harder for divine intervention than she did at that moment.
Miraculously, Steven briefly let her go. In what seemed an interminably long split second, Liadan immediately reached out to the side for the vase, grabbed it and brought it crashing down on the side of his skull. With a drunken groan he clutched his head before sliding bonelessly down to the black and white checked floor, and, without another glance, Liadan made herself run for all she was worth out of the house.
CHAPTER NINE
WHEN Adrian saw Liadan run down the stone steps that led from the house and turn onto the drive, looking desperately around her, his heart jumped right into his throat.