Forbidden Surrender
Carole Mortimer

www.millsandboon.co.uk

Table of Contents

Cover

Title Page

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

‘MARIE! How are you?’

Sara blinked up at the tall attractive man in front of her, smiling her regret. ‘I’m sorry,’ her American accent was very noticeable against his English one, ‘I’m afraid you have the wrong person.’ She turned away with an apologetic smile, wishing that she could have been the absent Marie. This man was very good-looking, possibly in his mid-twenties, and by the expression in his twinkling blue eyes he looked as if he could be fun to be around.

He took hold of her arm, stopping her from crossing the road. ‘Hey, I’m not going to tell Nick that you were wandering around Soho on your own.’

Sara frowned, her deep brown eyes puzzled, a startling contrast to her long golden-blonde hair, hair bleached by years under the Florida sun. Having lived in America most of her life she had been curious to see the country she had been born in, the country she had lived in until she was a year old, taken to start a new life in America by her mother after the untimely death of her husband.

‘I’m sorry,’ she repeated to the young man, ‘but you really are mistaken.’

He remained unconvinced. ‘I love the accent,’ he grinned, ‘but I know you too well to be fooled by that.’ He put his arm about her waist, his fingers spread dangerously close to her breast.

Sara stiffened, revising her opinion of him. He was obviously a flirt, and he sounded as if he and Marie were more than just casual acquaintances.

She gave him a cold stare. ‘Would you kindly take your hands off me?’ she requested haughtily, flicking her long hair back over her shoulder.

He frowned down at her but made no effort to let her go. ‘There’s no need to be like this, Marie. I admit I’m a bit sore about the way you ended things between us last year, but Nick——’

Sara squirmed away from him. ‘I don’t know any Nick, and I don’t know you either. And if you don’t let go of me I’ll call a policeman!’ She looked around for one, never having thought a man would try to pick her up so openly. It was the middle of the afternoon, she had got lost during a sightseeing session, and she certainly hadn’t expected to be accosted like this.

‘Okay, okay,’ the man grimaced, ‘there’s no need to get nasty. If you want to keep up this pretence of being an American tourist then that’s all right with me.’ He shrugged.

She wasn’t pretending to be anything, an American tourist was exactly what she was, although this wasn’t a very high class area to have got lost in. She only hoped Aunt Susan didn’t go home without her. Only having been in this country a couple of days herself she had no idea of the way back to Aunt Susan’s house.

‘Maybe I could be your guide?’ The man gave her a sideways glance. ‘Hey, that could be fun, Marie. We could——’

‘I already have a guide,’ she interrupted him, annoyed by the fact that he still believed her to be this other woman. It would seem he knew Marie very well, which made his obstinacy about her identity all the more surprising. Unless this was the way he usually picked his women up!

‘Oh, I see,’ he smiled bitterly. ‘I bet Nick doesn’t know about this—and I wish to God I didn’t!’ He bent and kissed her briefly on the mouth. ‘See you at the weekend,’ was his parting shot.

Sara stared after him dazedly. She wasn’t a prude, she had been kissed before, but never by a complete stranger. And he had been so respectable to look at too, his black pinstriped suit and snowy white shirt immaculate.

‘Sara!’ Her plump. Aunt Susan arrived breathlessly in front of her. ‘Thank goodness I’ve found you!’

Sara turned, the flirtatious stranger already swallowed up in the crowd. ‘I must have lost you in that last shop,’ she smiled her apology.

Susan Ford was a pleasantly plump lady of forty-eight, her blonde hair kept the same gold as Sara’s by a light tint every couple of months, her face still youthfully smooth and attractive. She was Sara’s mother’s sister, and although the sisters had been parted for the last twenty years their letters to each other had been numerous, so much so that Sara felt as if she already knew her aunt when they had met two days ago, had found herself instantly liking her aunt.

This trip to England wasn’t exactly a holiday to Sara, more of a convalescence. Six months ago her mother and stepfather had been killed in a car accident, and besides leaving her orphaned it had also left her with two broken legs, utterly ruining the modelling career that had just been starting to take off the ground.

It had taken six months for the scars to heal, both the emotional and physical ones, and on her final dismissal from the doctor she had arranged this trip to visit her English relatives, finding herself to be a very rich young woman on the death of her stepfather, Richard Hamille. They had been a close family, Sara being adopted by Richard when he had married her mother, and to suddenly find herself alone was very bewildering.

Her Aunt Susan had instantly taken her to her heart, she and Uncle Arthur having no children of their own. Sara felt at home with them, felt at home with England, and in a way she would be sad to leave when the time came. Still, that wouldn’t be for another couple of weeks yet.

‘Who was that man?’ her aunt frowned. ‘The one I saw you talking to?’

Sara shrugged as they fell into step together, making their way back to the busy city centre. ‘I have no idea,’ she answered her aunt.

Her eyes widened. ‘You didn’t know him?’

Sara shook her head. ‘No.’

‘But I saw him kiss you!’ Her aunt sounded scandalised.

Sara grinned. ‘I think he was trying to pick me up. It wasn’t a very good approach, though—he pretended that he thought I was someone else.’ She shook her head. ‘Not very original!’

‘Who did he think you were?’

She shrugged. ‘Someone called Marie. I wouldn’t have minded, but he seemed so insistent. Oh well,’ she dismissed, ‘he’ll have to chalk this one down to a no go.’

‘Yes, I suppose so,’ her aunt agreed vaguely. ‘Now, where were we? Oh yes, if we turn here we should be near the underground. Shall we go home and have a cup of tea? I’m dying for a cup.’

Sara grinned at her, her face alight with mischief, her features strikingly beautiful, the eyes wide and a deep dark brown, heavily fringed by long black lashes, the nose short, the mouth wide and smiling, her teeth very white against her golden skin. Her body was tall and supple, long-legged, and very slender. Her looks were invaluable in her profession, and she hoped to return to modelling when she went back to the States.

‘You and your tea!’ she chided. After only two days she was well aware of her aunt’s weakness for the brew, the other woman seeming to drink gallons of the stuff. Sara preferred coffee herself, but she readily agreed with the idea of going home for refreshment; the visit to Buckingham Palace and the Houses of Parliament had tired her out.

Uncle Arthur came in soon after they did, a short stocky man, going a little thin on top, his sparse brown hair going slightly grey now.

‘I have a surprise for you, love,’ he beamed at Sara as they ate their dinner. ‘I’ve invited Eddie round tonight, my nephew by my sister Jean. I thought you would like a bit of young company for a change.’

Sara masked her irritation. Her aunt and uncle had been so kind to her, and it was ungrateful of her not to appreciate this extra act of kindness. They had no way of knowing of her recent disillusionment, of the way Barry had let her down when she needed him the most, had walked out on her when the accident had temporarily robbed her of the ability to walk into a room with him and make one of his grand entrances. Barry was an up-and-coming actor, had appeared in several television serials, and he ranked his worth much higher than any television producer had yet had the foresight to do. Sara had been dating him a couple of months before the accident, not realising that her main attraction had been her undeniable beauty and her original way of dressing. Barry had replaced her within a day of the accident, having no time for her bereavement or her own injuries.

So at the moment she wasn’t particularly keen on men. ‘That will be nice,’ she gave a bright smile.

‘I hope so,’ her uncle nodded, settling back in his armchair. ‘He’s a good lad, works in a garage.’

‘He doesn’t work in a garage, Arthur,’ his wife chided. ‘He owns one, dear,’ she told Sara. ‘And he lets other people do the work.’

Sara felt sure Eddie wouldn’t agree with that, the poor man was probably worked off his feet. It wasn’t easy running a business, she knew that. Her stepfather had run an advertising firm, and he had often come home absolutely exhausted. Eddie probably felt the same way on occasion.

‘It’s nice of him to spare me the time,’ she said in all honesty.

‘Well, he took a bit of persuading,’ her uncle told her, ‘but I managed to talk him round.’

After Barry’s desertion of her this wasn’t exactly a booster to her morale. It was because of Eddie’s apparent reluctance to meet her that she took special care over her appearance that evening.

Her silky suit was in a pale lilac colour, the narrow belt that fitted over the shirt top in a deep purple colour. Her shoes matched the colour of the belt, her legs were long and silky beneath the straight skirt. She was aiming to knock his eyes out, so her make-up was dramatic, just to show him that his time hadn’t been wasted.

When she heard him arrive she checked her appearance. Her hair, newly washed, fell in gentle waves halfway down her back, shaped in casual curls either side of her face. Yes, she looked the top model she had rapidly been becoming until the accident, and if Eddie wasn’t impressed now he never would be.

He was. It was obvious by the widening of his deep blue eyes, by the way he slowly rose to his feet, his gaze appraising.

‘Hi,’ she greeted huskily, giving him her most dazzling smile. ‘I’m Sara, and you must be Eddie.’ She held out her hand politely.

He took her hand, seemingly reluctant to let it go again. His own hand was strong and work-worn, the nails kept short and clean. He was a man possibly in his late twenties, his hair sandy-blond, his face attractive, his dress casual in the extreme, his denims faded, his shirt unbuttoned partway down his chest.

‘Nice to meet you,’ he gave a wide appreciative smile. ‘Uncle Arthur didn’t tell me how—Well, he didn’t say—You’re gorgeous!’ he grinned.

Sara gave a happy laugh, at last managing to release her hand. ‘Thank you, kind sir,’ she curtseyed. ‘Uncle Arthur wasn’t too descriptive about you either,’ she admitted, instantly liking this man.

Eddie nodded understandingly. ‘You expected me to be wearing an overall, with oil under my fingernails,’ he derided.

‘Something like that,’ she gave a rueful smile. ‘Although Aunt Susan assured me you didn’t actually work in your garage.’ Her eyes twinkled mischievously.

‘Charming!’

She burst out laughing at his disgusted expression. ‘I’m sure she didn’t mean it the way I made it sound.’ Her aunt and uncle had taken advantage of Eddie’s visit and gone to visit some friends for the evening.

‘Hey, you’re all right,’ Eddie smiled at her. ‘Fancy coming out for a pint? A beer,’ he explained at her puzzled expression.

‘I’d love to,’ she accepted eagerly.

She had never been into a ‘local’ before, had never even been into a bar. Her mother and stepfather were quite protective of her, vetting most of her friends, and keeping her close within their own circle.

She loved the pub they went to, loved the beer Eddie made her try, loved the friendly, warm atmosphere, and most of all she loved the people. She was instantly accepted into Eddie’s crowd and persuaded to join in a game of darts, a game she was totally hopeless at. But she had a lot of fun trying, and no one seemed to mind her inability to hit the board twice in a row.

‘That was fun!’ She gave Eddie a glowing smile on the drive back to her aunt and uncle’s house.

‘Glad you enjoyed it. Care to come out with me again?’ He quirked one eyebrow enquiringly.

‘I’d love to!’ Sara’s face glowed.

‘Tomorrow?’

She looked uncertain. ‘I’m not sure what plans Aunt Susan and Uncle Arthur have for me. You see——’

‘It’s okay, Sara,’ he cut in dryly, ‘I realise I’m not the sort of man you usually go out with.’

She blushed at his intended rebuke. ‘I didn’t mean that.’

‘But it’s true, isn’t it? You were like a child tonight, enjoyed each new experience with eagerness. Uncle Arthur told me you were a rich kid, in the executive bracket.’

Sara bit her lip, knowing she had hurt him. ‘I did enjoy tonight, and I—I’m sorry if I embarrassed you with my enthusiasm. I didn’t mean to.’

Eddie sighed. ‘You didn’t. You were a success, you know you were. Maybe that’s why I’m so annoyed—I was jealous of half the men there tonight.’

Sara relaxed somewhat, back on territory she could handle. ‘You had no need to be. I always remember who took me on my date, and I always make a point of leaving with that person.’

‘So it’s still on for tomorrow, if Aunt Susan and Uncle Arthur don’t have any other plans for you? And this time I’ll take you somewhere I can have you all to myself.’

She wasn’t so sure his single-minded interest was a good thing. She would be going back to the States soon, two or three weeks at the most, and it wouldn’t do for Eddie to become involved with her, not deeply involved. When she got back home she intended concentrating exclusively on her career, there would be no time for romantic involvement.

‘Sara?’ Eddie prompted.

‘I—er—What did you have in mind?’

He shrugged. ‘A meal and then on to a club?’

‘It sounds lovely,’ she accepted, deciding she could deal with Eddie’s interest in her if and when it started to become serious. She liked him, he was fun, and there could be no harm in them going out together. ‘What time shall I be ready?’

‘Oh, about eight.’ He stopped the car outside the house.

‘Like to come in for coffee?’ she invited.

‘Not tonight, thanks. If I know Aunt Susan and Uncle Arthur they’ll have gone to bed long ago, and I wouldn’t want to disturb them. You’d better ask them for a door key for tomorrow, we could be late.’

‘Not too late, I hope,’ Sara frowned. ‘I need my beauty sleep,’ she added lightly.

‘I hadn’t noticed,’ he teased.

She smiled. ‘I really don’t want to be too late. I—I don’t keep late hours any more.’ Since leaving the hospital she had taken life at a slow pace, retiring early and rising late.

‘Okay,’ Eddie sighed. ‘I’ll have you home by midnight—Cinderella. But I should still ask for a key, they’re usually in bed by ten.’

She knew that, and for the last two nights she had done the same thing. ‘I’ll ask,’ she promised. ‘And thanks once again for tonight, I had a great time.’

‘Enough of a great time to kiss me goodnight?’

She leant forward and kissed him lightly on the mouth. ‘Goodnight,’ she called before hurrying into the house.

They had both been wrong; their aunt and uncle weren’t in bed at all, they were still in the lounge.

‘But it’s still worrying,’ Aunt Susan could be heard insisting.

‘You’re worrying over nothing,’ her husband chided her. ‘Just forget about it, it didn’t mean a thing.’

‘But, Arthur——’

‘Susan!’ he said sternly. ‘I think I just heard Sara come in, so let’s just drop the subject.’

Sara shrugged to herself, coughing to let them know of her presence. Her mother and stepfather often had minor arguments, but they usually passed within a day or so, and she felt sure things were no different between her aunt and uncle, the middle-aged couple seemed very happy together.

‘Did you have a nice time, dear?’ her aunt asked as she came into the room.

‘Lovely,’ she nodded agreement.

‘Going out with him again?’ Uncle Arthur eyed her over the top of his horn-rimmed glasses.

Sara blushed. ‘Tomorrow.’

‘Hear that, Susan?’ he turned to his wife. ‘Before you know it we’ll have a wedding on our hands.’

‘Arthur!’ she warned.

‘I’m not getting married for years yet, Uncle Arthur,’ Sara told him hastily. ‘I’m only twenty, almost twenty-one.’

‘Susan and I had already been married two years by that time.’

‘It was different when we were young, Arthur,’ his wife chided. ‘There’s so much for young people to do nowadays, places to see, that they don’t want to tie themselves down to marriage too young.’

He raised his eyebrows, his eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘After all these years she finally tells me she married me out of boredom!’ He winked at Sara.

‘Go on with you!’ his wife scorned. ‘Where’s Eddie taking you tomorrow?’ she turned to ask Sara.

‘Out to dinner and then on to a club, he said.’ Her aunt and uncle’s interest in her evening out was nothing unusual to Sara, her mother had always been interested in such things too, and it was in fact quite like home sitting and chatting like this after an enjoyable evening out.

‘Better than a trip to a pub,’ Uncle Arthur teased.

‘I liked the pub.’ Sara had been quite disappointed that Eddie had decided not to take her back there.

Aunt Susan stood up, putting down her knitting. ‘Well, I’m for bed. Arthur?’

‘I am too.’ He stood up, stretching. ‘It’s nice having you with us, love,’ he told Sara huskily.

She moved to hug him, tears in her eyes. ‘It’s nice to be here. I wish now I’d come sooner, instead of waiting until——’ she broke off, stricken.

Her uncle patted her shoulder awkwardly. ‘It’s all right, Sara. We’re your family now, for as long as you want us.’

‘Thank you.’ She kissed them both on the cheek before hurrying to her room.

The tears flowed readily once she closed her bedroom door; the loss of her parents was still a raw wound. Without Aunt Susan and Uncle Arthur’s support the last few days she didn’t know what she would have done; some of the moods of depression she had suffered in the States had been very black indeed.

After an exhaustive perusal of most of the museums the next day Sara didn’t feel up to going anywhere that evening. But she had told Eddie she would go out with him and she couldn’t let him down. If they were dining out he had probably had to book a table.

‘Oh, you look lovely!’ her aunt exclaimed as Sara came into the lounge to wait for Eddie.

She felt quite confident of her appearance, knowing her black dress would be suitable for any occasion, would blend in both at the restaurant and the club, its style demure while still managing to show the perfection of her figure, her breasts firm and uptilting, the slenderness of her waist emphasised by a thick black belt, her hips narrow in the pencil-slim styling of the dress. Her legs were long and smooth, her slender ankles shown to advantage in the high-heeled sandals she wore, a slender gold chain about one of her ankles. She had needed to wear it for one of her photographic sessions, and now found it an attractive piece of jewellery.

She sat down opposite her aunt, her long hair secured on the top of her head, leaving her neck slenderly vulnerable. ‘Where’s Uncle Arthur?’

‘Gone for a drink with a few of his friends.’ Her aunt carried on with her knitting, halfway through making a cardigan for her husband. ‘It’s a regular thing. It does him good to get out for an evening.’

Sara frowned. ‘You should have told me, then I wouldn’t have arranged to go out tonight.’

‘You go out and have a good time,’ she encouraged. ‘To tell you the truth,’ she confided with a smile. ‘I usually doze off about nine o’clock.’

‘I see,’ Sara laughed. ‘A bit of peace and quiet, hmm?’

‘That’s the idea. That will be Eddie,’ Aunt Susan said as the doorbell rang.

Sara went and answered the door herself. Eddie was looking very smart in a navy blue suit and contrasting light blue shirt. His eyes widened as he saw her. ‘You’re ready.’ He stepped into the hallway.

‘Of course,’ she frowned. ‘It’s eight o’clock, isn’t it?’

‘Oh yes,’ he nodded. ‘I just thought I’d be kept waiting until at least eight-fifteen.’

She smiled as she led the way back to the lounge. ‘I always try to be punctual. My mother always told me that if someone has taken the trouble to arrive on time then it’s only polite to be ready.’

Eddie smiled. ‘I think I would have liked your mother.’

They said their goodbyes to Aunt Susan. The drive to the restaurant was a short one, their table secluded in one of the corners of the room.

‘I quite like Chinese food myself,’ Eddie told her once they had given their order. ‘But not knowing your preferences I played it safe and chose an English restaurant.’

Sara eyed him teasingly. ‘You were taking a risk thinking I like to eat at all. Most of the models I know live on milk and lettuce leaves.’

‘Hey, that’s right—you’re a model, aren’t you? Are you open to offers? And I meant for work,’ he added dryly.

She shrugged. ‘I will be, when I get back to the States. I don’t have a permit to work over here. This trip is strictly pleasure.’

‘Pity. I have a friend who’s a photographer. No, really,’ he insisted at her dubious expression. ‘Pete and I were at school together. He’s quite successful over here.’

‘Maybe some other time,’ Sara said regretfully.

‘Okay. Maybe I’ll be able to introduce the two of you before you go home, then you’ll have a contact over here if you ever should decide to work here.’

Sara smiled, her skin a glowing peach colour, her eyes deeply brown. ‘That’s really nice of you, thank you.’

‘No trouble,’ Eddie dismissed.

It was after ten when they left the restaurant for the club, by now the two of them firm friends. Sara’s eyes were glowing from the amount of wine she had consumed during her meal, her smile more ready than usual.

The club was plush and exclusive, not really the sort of place she would have thought Eddie would have enjoyed frequenting.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Eddie grimaced. ‘But I’ve been here a couple of times with Pete.’ He shrugged. ‘I like watching the rich lose their money.’ He referred to the gambling tables, jewel-bedecked women and quietly affluent men gazing avidly down at the tables. ‘Pete’s a member,’ he explained the fact that they had actually been able to get in. ‘And the people here know me.’

Sara felt slightly uncomfortable among such people. ‘That sounds as if you’ve been here more than a couple of times,’ she teased.

He looked sheepish. ‘Maybe a few.’

She put her arm through his, determinedly putting any feelings of shyness behind her. ‘Let’s go and take a look.’

She had never been in a gambling club before, and for the first half hour she found it all fascinating. They were standing behind a middle-aged woman, who to Sara’s knowledge systematically lost every bet she placed. Sara stood back away from the light, finding it all very sickening, was the only word she could think of to describe that mindless addiction.

‘I’ll get you a drink,’ Eddie suggested.

She would rather have left, but she didn’t want to be a killjoy. Eddie was enjoying himself, and they would probably be leaving quite soon. She accepted the offer of a drink, continuing to watch the play in front of her, not understanding it at all but becoming more and more fascinated by the spin of the roulette wheel as she waited for Eddie’s return.

A woman on the other side of the table finally gave up, standing up to leave. A man moved to take her place, and Sara watched him as he began to win. This man had the look of an experienced gambler, a deadpan face, his blue eyes shrewd.

Sara watched him, her interest in the roulette reawakened. His movements were made without haste, his hands slender and lean, the fingers long and tapered. Her eyes were drawn from his hands to his face—a hard face, the deep blue eyes narrowed, the nose hawk-like, the mouth compressed, his jaw set at a strong angle. The evening suit he wore was impeccably styled, as was his dark over-long hair, his manner assured and speaking of wealth. The staff of the club treated him with deep respect, making Sara wonder who he could be. He was in his mid-thirties, maybe a little younger, and yet he seemed to be a man of affluence.

Suddenly he looked up and caught her watching him, and his face darkened into a frown, any attractiveness about him instantly disappearing. She recoiled from the angry dislike in his blazing blue eyes and turned away in search of Eddie. He was a long time getting their drinks.

Someone grasped her arm and she was roughly spun around to face the man she had been watching at the roulette table. He must have left the table immediately she turned away.

‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he rasped, his fingers painful on her arm.

Sara frowned at this attack on her, both physically and verbally. ‘I—We—I was signed in.’

His mouth twisted—a perfect mouth, the lower lip fuller, pointing to a sensuality this man would take pains to hide. ‘So you aren’t alone?’

‘No——’

The man pulled her away from the table and over to a quiet corner of the room—if it could be called quiet in a room like this. ‘Who are you with?’ he demanded to know.

‘I—Let me go!’ Sara tried to pry his fingers loose, looking up at him with wide apprehensive eyes. If she had done something wrong by being here why didn’t he just say so and let her leave? There was no need for him to get rough with her. And where was Eddie? He could explain that he had signed her in, that his friend was a member. ‘You’re hurting me!’ she cried as his strong fingers refused to be dislodged from her arm.

His teeth snapped together, white teeth, very even. ‘I’d like to do more than that!’ He thrust her away from him. ‘Who’s the man?’ he asked tautly.

Sara rubbed her bruised skin. ‘Eddie Mayer,’ she muttered.

The man’s expression was grim, frighteningly so. ‘I don’t know him, but then I never do, do I? Well, you got this Eddie Mayer to bring you, so he can damn well take you home again. We’ll discuss this tomorrow.’

She blinked up at him. ‘Tomorrow …?’

‘Yes, tomorrow. And make sure you’re there. I’m getting a little tired of these exploits of yours, Marie. I thought they were over,’ he sighed. ‘God, if your father knew …’ He shook his head.

It was Marie again! For the second time in two days she had been mistaken for this other girl, Marie. This man must be another of her men, and the man Nick that the man of yesterday had warned her about was obviously this girl’s father. Considering she didn’t know the girl she was finding out a lot about her!

Well, this man was a definite improvement on yesterday’s, although he was no less wrong about her identification. ‘There’s been a mistake——’

‘Yes,’ he hissed angrily, ‘and I’m beginning to think I made it!’ He gave her a disgusted look. ‘We’ll talk tomorrow.’ He turned and walked out of the club with long controlled strides.

Sara was left feeling as if she had just survived an earthquake, or something equally disastrous. Whoever this Marie was she led an interesting and varied life, and it looked as if this last man had had enough. The other girl was obviously a flirt, but that didn’t make it right that she was going to get the blame for something she hadn’t done.

She was curious to know the man’s identity, and walked over to the doorman. ‘That man …’ she paused hesitantly. ‘The one that just left …’

‘Mr Thorne?’ the man enquired politely.

‘Oh, Mr Thorne,’ she feigned disappointment. ‘It seems I made a mistake, I thought it was Gerrard Turner,’ she hastily made a name up.

‘No, miss,’ the doorman shook his head, ‘that was Mr Dominic Thorne. He’s in engineering.’

‘Thank you,’ she smiled. ‘Wrong man,’ she shrugged before walking away.

When the man said Dominic Thorne was ‘in engineering’ she felt sure he meant that he ran these firms. There had been an air of authority about the man, a determination that wouldn’t let him be ruled by anyone. Despite his rough treatment of her Sara had found him attractive. A shame he was interested in someone called Marie, a girl who appeared to be her double.

She had read that everyone had a double somewhere in the world, but it seemed hers was living in London, and that their likeness was so extreme that even this Marie’s lovers seemed to have been fooled. And Sara was sure both those men had been her lovers; they had both had a strong sense of familiarity about them towards her—or rather, Marie.

‘Sara!’ Eddie appeared in front of her. ‘I thought for a minute you’d left without me,’ he sighed his relief. ‘Sorry I was so long, but I ran into Pete. Come over and meet him.’

She went willingly enough, just relieved to have him back with her, before any more of Marie’s men accosted her. Pete proved to be an extrovert, even the sober suit and tie did not diminish his exuberant nature.

‘Wow!’ he exclaimed when he saw her, pulling her on to the bar stool next to him. ‘I bet you’re a natural,’ he enthused, studying her with the practised eye of a photographer. ‘Boy, would I like to get you the other side of my camera,’ he spoke softly to himself. ‘No chance of that?’ He quirked a hopeful eyebrow.

Sara grinned at him; this enthusiasm was doing wonders for her ego. ‘Not this trip,’ she refused him. ‘I’ve already explained to Eddie that I don’t have a permit——’

‘I could get you one,’ Pete cut in eagerly.

She shook her head. ‘I’m still convalescing.’

‘Mm, Eddie explained.’ Pete was studying her closely. ‘Have you ever worked in this country?’

‘I’ve never even been here before, except as a baby, so I certainly haven’t worked here before.’

‘I have this feeling I’ve seen you before.’ He frowned his puzzlement.

‘Not you too!’ Sara sighed. ‘You’re the third one since I’ve been here.’

‘At the club?’ Eddie enquired, sitting the other side of her.

‘No, in England. People keep thinking I’m someone else.’

‘A pick-up!’ he dismissed.

‘No,’ she shook her head. ‘The first time it happened I thought that, but it happened again tonight, here, and both men thought I was the same person.’ She shrugged her puzzlement.

Eddie put his arm about her shoulders. ‘I refuse to believe there are two like you,’ he smiled at her warmly. ‘Nature couldn’t have been that generous!’

Sara ignored the pointed show of possession, realising that Eddie was warning his friend off her. Not that she particularly minded, one man was complication enough for her stay here. ‘It was all very odd, though. Still,’ she dismissed it from her mind, ‘it doesn’t matter. Could we possibly leave now, Eddie? It’s getting late, and Aunt Susan and Uncle Arthur seem to have taken to waiting up for me.’

They made their goodbyes to Pete, and Sara promised to get in touch with him if she ever decided to work in England.

‘Lucky we ran into him,’ Eddie remarked on the drive home. ‘He can be an elusive man, impossible to find at times.’

Sara was preoccupied, unable to put the thought of the man at the casino out of her mind. He hadn’t been the sort of individual you forgot in a hurry; his manner was forceful, his attractiveness mesmerising, animally sensual. Whoever Marie was she was a lucky girl to have had him for a lover.

‘Eddie,’ she bit her lip thoughtfully, ‘tonight, at the club, there was a man called Dominic Thorne. Do you know him?’

He spluttered with laughter. ‘You have to be joking! He’s out of my league, love,’ he added less scornfully.

‘But you have heard of him?’

‘Who hasn’t?’ he shrugged, halting the car outside the house. ‘He has his finger in every business pie going, every one that’s legal, that is. He and his partner—well, his father’s partner, actually, but the old man’s dead now—they’re in the millionaire class.’

‘Is he married?’ Sara made the query as casually as she could, not wanting to show her extreme interest in Eddie’s answer.

‘No,’ he grinned. ‘But he’s going to be. He’s done the sensible thing, he’s got himself engaged to his partner’s daughter, Marie Lindlay.’

Sara swallowed hard. ‘Marie …?’

‘Mm. One day Dominic Thorne will have it all, all the business interests plus the lovely Marie.’

Sara was no longer listening to him. This Marie everyone kept confusing her with was actually going to marry Dominic Thorne. Surely he couldn’t mistake another woman for the girl he was going to marry?

CHAPTER TWO

IT was all a puzzle to Sara, one there seemed no answer to. She mentioned it to her aunt, but she dismissed it as a coincidence.

‘But even her fiancée thought I was this other girl,’ Sara frowned.

Her aunt shrugged. ‘It was dark in there, it was probably just a case of mistaken identity.’

‘It feels weird to be so like another person.’

‘Maybe you aren’t really,’ Aunt Susan dismissed. ‘As I said, the lighting probably wasn’t very good in this club you went to. Mr Thorne’s girl-friend probably has blonde hair too, and in a bad light maybe you do have a resemblance to this other girl. I should just forget about it, Sara.’

‘I suppose so,’ she sighed. ‘Although it might be interesting to actually see this Marie Lindlay.’

‘Is that her name?’

‘Eddie says it is,’ she nodded.

‘I—Oh, damn!’ Her aunt swore as she dropped a cup, watching in dismay as it smashed on the floor. ‘One of my best set, too,’ she tutted, bending down to pick up the pieces. ‘I hope they’re still making these, I’d like to buy a replacement for it.’ She put the pieces in the bin.

‘I’m sure they do.’ Sara swept up the shattered fragments still scattered on the floor.

Her uncle came into the room. ‘Did I hear a crash just now?’

‘It’s as well I hadn’t fallen over,’ his wife snapped. ‘It took you long enough to get in here.’

He looked taken aback by this unexpected attack. ‘I knew Sara was in here helping you wash up.’ He frowned. ‘It was only a crash, Susan, not a thump.’

‘It’s all right, Uncle Arthur,’ Sara soothed. ‘Aunt Susan’s just broken one of her best china cups, and I’m afraid she’s rather upset about it. Take her into the lounge and I’ll make you both a nice cup of tea.’

He nodded. ‘Come on, Susan. It was only a cup,’ he chided as they went through to the lounge.

‘It wasn’t that, Arthur. It was——’ The kitchen door closed, cutting off the rest of the conversation.

Poor Aunt Susan, the tea-set obviously meant a lot to her. It was rather lovely to look at, very delicately made, with an old-fashioned floral pattern. She would see if she could get a replacement this afternoon when she went shopping.

‘Where’s Eddie taking you tonight?’ her uncle asked as she took their cups of tea into them.

‘I’m not seeing him tonight.’ She had turned down his invitation for this evening, deciding that three nights in a row was just too much. ‘But he’s taking me out for a drive tomorrow,’ she added ruefully. Eddie had been adamant about seeing her again, and she had finally agreed to let him drive her to see some of the English countryside.

London was interesting, there was certainly plenty to see, but she was well aware that there was a lot more to England than its capital. Her mother had never forgotten the greenness of the countryside here, it had been the one thing she really missed by living in America, and Sara was determined to see some of it before she left.

‘As long as it isn’t another casino,’ her aunt shook her head disapprovingly.

Sara laughed. ‘It was quite an experience.’

‘Not one I’d like to see repeated,’ Aunt Susan said sternly. ‘I gave him a piece of my mind last night after you’d gone to bed. Taking you to a gambling hall, indeed!’ she added disgustedly.

‘You make it sound like a den of iniquity,’ her husband teased.

‘I’m sure Rachel wouldn’t have approved of Sara going to such a place, and I don’t either. And Eddie introduced Sara to that mad friend Pete of his.’

Uncle Arthur smiled. ‘He isn’t mad, Susan. A bit of an extrovert maybe, but there’s no harm in him.’

It wasn’t like her aunt to be bad-tempered, and Sara could only assume that breaking the cup had upset her more than they had realised.

She managed to find a replacement that afternoon, although she seemed to have walked most of London to find it. Her aunt was suitably pleased with her purchase.

‘Eddie telephoned while you were out.’ Her aunt put the cup with the rest of the set.

Sara looked up. ‘Did he happen to say what he wanted?’

Her aunt smiled. ‘He didn’t ‘‘happen” to say at all—I asked him. He said something about a party tonight.’

‘I see,’ she bit her lip. ‘He’ll be calling back, then?’

‘Mm. Soon, I should think.’

Ten minutes later a call came through, only this time it was Pete. ‘Do you fancy going to a party?’ he asked her.

‘I think Eddie intends inviting me to one,’ she refused.

‘On my behalf. I’m the one who wants to take you to the party, Eddie has to work.’

Sara bristled angrily. ‘I went out with Eddie because he’s my uncle’s nephew, I don’t expect to be passed around to Eddie’s friends!’

‘Hey,’ Pete chided, ‘that isn’t the idea at all.’

‘Then what is?’ she snapped.

‘I suddenly realised why I thought you’d worked in this country before, and I wondered if you would like to meet your double.’

‘Double …?’ she repeated dazedly.

‘Mm, you look exactly like Marie Lindlay.’

Sara frowned. Again someone had noticed the similarity. Her curiosity was aroused once again. To be able to see this girl, to see exactly what their similarity was, would be fun, even if this apparent likeness turned out to be a myth in the end.

‘What sort of party is it?’ she delayed making a decision.

‘Given to amuse the idle rich,’ he scorned.

‘Then how did you get an invitation?’ she teased, her anger leaving her.

‘Naughty!’ Pete chided. ‘Actually I’m a friend of a friend, and I have it on good authority that Marie Lindlay is going to be there, with her fiancée, no less.’

Dominic Thorne. It would be interesting to see his face when he saw her, and at least she would be able to prove to him that his fiancéee was telling the truth when she denied being at the club the evening before. Besides, she just wanted to get another look at him, to see if he really was as good-looking as her-imagination told her he was.

‘Okay,’ she agreed. ‘What shall I wear?’ She didn’t want to turn up wearing completely the wrong outfit.

‘As little as possible.’ She could almost hear Pete grinning. ‘To tell you the truth, I usually take one of my models to these parties, and she wears the most shocking clothes. I like to make an entrance,’ he added with homour.

Another one! ‘Right.’ Sara knew exactly the dress she was going to wear. ‘I’ll be ready at eight.’

‘Make it nine,’ Pete advised. ‘These parties rarely get going until at least ten-thirty.’

‘And the later we are the more of an entrance we can make,’ Sara guessed dryly, knowing this from her experiences with Barry. ‘Okay, nine it is.’

She was searching through her clothes in her wardrobe when her aunt came into the room. She had just found the gold dress and matching cape, and she quickly buried them beneath her other clothing. Aunt Susan would certainly not approve.

‘Dinner’s ready,’ her aunt told her.

‘So am I,’ Sara smiled. ‘I’m starving!’

She mentioned the party as they were eating their meal, and her uncle talked down Aunt Susan’s objections.

‘Let the girl enjoy herself,’ he said affectionately. ‘Lord knows she’ll be leaving us soon enough.’

‘But, Arthur——’

‘Stop fussing, woman!’ Sara’s usually mild uncle spoke very firmly. ‘Sara’s quite old enough to know what she’s doing. Pete may seem a little on the wild side to us, but to Sara I’m sure he seems a lot of fun.’

‘He does,’ she grinned, agreeing with her uncle. There was no harm in Pete, he was just a joker.

‘Then that’s all that matters. Are there any more potatoes, Susan?’ He quirked an eyebrow at his wife.

She gave an impatient sigh. ‘I thought you were starting your diet today?’

He grinned. ‘It can wait until tomorrow.’

His wife gave a reluctant smile. ‘I thought you might say that, which is why I did the normal amount of potatoes.’ She went into the kitchen to get them.

Sara’s uncle turned to wink at her. ‘After thirty years she knows me better than I know myself.’

Sara hoped, if she ever got married, that she and her husband were as happy together after being married the same number of years.

She was glad of the cape top when she was at last dressed in the gold dress, it served to hide the scantiness of the gown’s bodice. The material barely covered her naked breasts, completely strapless, the sheath of material clinging to every smooth curve of her body. With the cape about her shoulders, covering her naked shoulders and partially revealed breasts, the gown was still daring, but not as much as when the cape was removed.

When she heard Pete at the door she put her head around the lounge door and made her hurried goodbyes, dashing outside to join Pete before her aunt and uncle could see what she was wearing, not because she was ashamed of the dress but because she knew they wouldn’t understand why she was wearing it. A dress like this would be perfectly acceptable in the company she would be mixing in this evening, in fact she had attended a party with her parents in it, but she was sure her aunt and uncle would be slightly shocked by its daring.

Pete wasn’t so much shocked as delighted. ‘Beautiful,’ he murmured appreciatively.

Sara gave a happy laugh. ‘Stop drooling and drive,’ she ordered.

He did, driving to the more exclusive part of London. The cars in the driveway they finally arrived at were all in the expensive Rolls-Royce and Jaguar bracket. Pete’s car was a Jaguar too, a vintage model, so it wasn’t in the least out of place.

He grinned at her appreciation of it as he locked the doors. ‘I bought it cheap. It was a wreck when I found it,’ he explained. ‘Eddie did it up for me.’

‘Nice to have a friend who can see to your cars for you,’ she teased.

‘A friend who doesn’t mind me taking his girl out for the evening,’ he raised one eyebrow questioningly.

Her smile faded. ‘I’m not his girl, Pete. We’re just friends.’

‘I know,’ he grinned. ‘Eddie told me he’d been politely but firmly warned off. Don’t worry, Sara,’ he said at her frown. ‘He doesn’t mind. Eddie isn’t into serious relationships either.’

‘I’m not into any sort of relationships!’

He quirked his eyebrow again. ‘Bad love affair?’ he asked softly.

Sara gave a scornful snort. ‘No affair, and no love either. What it was was just bad.’

‘And it’s over now?’

‘Very much so,’ she confirmed vehemently.

‘Right, then let’s go in and dazzle the crowd.’

‘In that case I’d better take this off first.’ She whisked the cape off, and her blonde curls cascaded down one shoulder and over the breast, pinned by a comb at the nape.

‘Wow!’ Pete gasped his appreciation. ‘Dazzle is the right word. Come on,’ he took her arm, ‘I’m going to enjoy this.’

Sara walked beside him into the entrance hall of the house. ‘Do I really look like this Marie Lindlay? My aunt and—no, just my aunt, she thinks that it’s probably just superficial.’

‘Well, I hope you don’t have Marie’s nature. She can be a bit of a flirt on occasion, or so I’ve heard. But as far as the face and body are concerned you’re identical.’

She shook her head. ‘It’s hard to believe.’

‘But true. I looked out some photographs of her today.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s unnatural. Let’s go inside, then you can see for yourself.’

The long room they entered was crammed full of people, all of them talking in loud refined voices, and sparkling with diamonds. Several people turned to look at them as the butler showed them in, and a tall redhead broke away from the crowd of people she had been talking to and made her way towards them.

‘Our hostess,’ Pete had time to mutter before the woman descended on them in an expensive cloud of perfume.

‘Peter darling!’ she cried before hugging him, kissing him lightly on the cheek. ‘And I see you’ve brought Marie with you.’ Her tone cooled somewhat. ‘What have you done with Dominic, darling?’ she spoke to Sara, her blue eyes hard.

‘I——’

‘This is Sara Hamille, Cynthia,’ Pete interrupted.

The blue eyes became even harder, the beautiful face assessing. ‘What game are you playing, Marie?’ she finally asked.

Sara looked confused. ‘No, really, I——’

‘A change of accent doesn’t make you any less Marie Lindlay,’ the woman scorned. ‘And Dominic is going to be furious when he arrives. Oh well,’ she said dismissively, ‘it’s your funeral. Drinks are over there,’ she waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the bar. ‘Help yourselves to food.’ She moved gracefully back to the people she had previously been conversing with.

‘You see?’ Pete dragged Sara over to the bar. ‘If you can fool Cynthia, you can fool anyone. She and Marie have been friends since boarding-school.’

Sara grimaced. ‘Are you sure ‘‘friends” is the right description?’

‘They’re like that in this crowd,’ he dismissed. ‘They stab each other in the back every opportunity they get. For instance, they’re probably all looking forward to the scene between Dominic Thorne and the supposed Marie Lindlay.’

‘How nice!’ she said with unconcealed sarcasm.

‘Come on, let’s have a drink,’ Pete encouraged. ‘We might as well enjoy ourselves now we’re here.’

An hour later, when Dominic Thorne and Marie Lindlay still hadn’t put in an appearance, Sara was beginning to wonder if they were coming, and she said as much to Pete.

‘Don’t worry,’ he assured her gaily, ‘they’ll be here. It’s only just gone ten o’clock.’

‘I wouldn’t mind,’ she grimaced. ‘But everyone here seems to think I really am Marie Lindlay. A couple of people have turned nasty because I refuse to admit to being her.’

‘Then they’re going to get a shock when the real one walks in. Have another drink.’

She was beginning to think they should leave. It was all turning out to be very embarrassing, these people convinced she was the other girl trying to make a fool of them, so much so that she was even beginning to doubt herself. Cynthia Robotham-James, their hostess, had become very annoyed with her a few minutes ago when she had again insisted her name was Sara Hamille.

‘Here we go,’ Pete suddenly whispered in her ear. ‘Look over at the door,’ he said fiercely.

Sara looked. Dominic Thorne was instantly recognisable in black velvet jacket and matching trousers, his snowy white shirt emphasising his tan. She held her breath as her gaze passed down to the girl at his side, gasping at what she saw. The hairstyle was different, the dress even more daring than the one she was wearing—if that were possible, and yet looking at the girl at Dominic Thorne’s side was like seeing a mirror image. No wonder everyone kept insisting she was Marie. The two of them looked exactly alike!

‘You see?’ Pete said excitedly. ‘Didn’t I tell you? Let’s go over there.’

‘No!’ She hung back, too confused at the moment to actually meet the other girl.

‘Come on,’ Pete insisted. ‘I’m not going to miss out on the fun now.’

Sara allowed herself to be pulled towards the doorway, too numb at the moment to offer any resistance. How could two people possibly be so much alike unless they were related in some way, and yet she had no cousins and was an only child herself. She shook her head dazedly, then looked up to find steely blue eyes fixed on her.

Dominic Thorne registered her appearance with a narrowing of those eyes, his body tensing. He looked down at his fiancéee and then back to Sara, frowning darkly. He bent down to whisper something in Marie’s ear, and she lifted her head, her eyes the same deep brown as Sara’s as the two girls stared at each other.

Pete was the only one in the group of four who remained immune to the sudden tension. ‘Hi,’ he greeted Marie brightly. ‘Permit me to introduce Sara Hamille.’ He made the announcement with a great deal of pleasure, obviously enjoying this situation immensely.

‘Miss Hamille,’ Dominic Thorne was the first to break the silence, his voice just as deep and attractive as Sara remembered it, all of him just as attractive as she remembered.

‘Mr Thorne,’ she acknowledged, still staring at Marie Lindlay, and the other girl stared right back.

Suddenly that beautiful face broke into a smile, a mischievous smile. ‘So you’re the girl who’s been going around London impersonating me?’ she accused jokingly.

‘Hardly impersonating,’ Dominic Thorne replied, completely in control of himself again, and the situation. ‘Miss Hamille has been acting as herself, it’s others who have taken her to be you.’ He looked at Sara with narrowed eyes. ‘I believe I owe you an apology,’ he said, as if the words didn’t come easily to him, as if he rarely had to admit to being in the wrong.

‘Let’s move away from the doorway,’ Marie suggested lightly. Her voice was completely different from Sara’s, her education obviously having been in one of England’s finest boarding-schools. ‘We’re attracting a lot of attention standing here.’

‘I’m afraid that’s my fault,’ Sara admitted as they moved to a less prominent part of the room. ‘The people here refused to believe I wasn’t Marie Lindlay, and now that you’ve arrived …’ she shrugged.

‘Ooh, how lovely!’ Marie clapped her hands in delight. ‘Isn’t this fun, Dominic?’ she exclaimed.

‘I doubt Miss Hamille has thought it so, it can’t have been easy being thought to be you,’ he added dryly.

‘Oh, Dominic!’ Marie pouted prettily.

He turned to look at Sara, his eyes once again registering his shock at her likeness to his fiancéee. ‘I really must apologise for my behaviour yesterday evening.’ His voice was stilted, his manner haughty. ‘You must have thought me very strange.’

Sara flushed. ‘And you must have thought me even stranger.’

‘Not really,’ he shook his head.

Marie gave a tinkling laugh, her long blonde hair brushed free about her shoulders. ‘Dominic has this mad idea that I keep going off with other men.’ She looked up at him through dark, silky, lashes. ‘Don’t you, my jealous darling?’

Sara found Marie’s clinging behaviour where Dominic Thorne was concerned rather uncomfortable to watch. The reason for this feeling was easily explained; it was like watching herself—and she knew she could never act that way with this arrogant man.

But maybe Dominic Thorne had reason to be suspicious of Marie. The man in Soho had certainly been more than a friend to her.

‘I’m sure Miss Hamille isn’t interested in what I do or do not think,’ he said curtly. ‘Now don’t you think we should make our presence known to Cynthia?’

It was a deliberate snub, but not one Marie seemed about to endorse. ‘I can’t lose sight of my double now. Just think of the fun we could have, Sara,’ her eyes lit up with pleasure. ‘We could play some terrific tricks on people!’ She turned Sara towards the mirror that adorned the wall behind them. ‘It’s incredible,’ she said breathlessly, staring at their reflections.

And it was incredible, the likeness was uncanny. Sara’s hair was possibly a little lighter in colour, bleached by years under the Florida sun, and her skin was a more golden colour against Marie’s magnolia colouring, but other than that they were identical—the same height, the same features, even the same slender fingers, but a huge diamond ring sparkled on the third finger of Marie’s left hand.

‘I think unbelievable is a more apt word.’ Dominic Thorne came to stand between them. ‘Have you always looked like this, Miss Hamille?’ The question was almost an accusation.

She flushed at his tone. ‘Are you implying I’ve had plastic surgery to make me look like Marie? Because I can assure you I haven’t,’ she said indignantly.

‘No, she hasn’t,’ Pete cut in, indignant on her behalf. ‘I can spot that sort of thing a mile away. Sara was born with that face.’

‘Well, I can assure you I haven’t had plastic surgery, Dominic,’ Marie told her fiancé.

‘Considering I’ve known you since you were ten years old I would say that was obvious,’ he scorned. ‘But there has to be some explanation for this.’

‘I can’t think of one,’ Marie dismissed. ‘Come on, Sara, we’ll go and show Cynthia you aren’t a liar at all.’ She took Sara by the arm and led her away.

Sara was fuming, aware of the fact that Dominic Thorne didn’t like her, distrusted her. Plastic surgery indeed!

‘You mustn’t mind Dominic.’ Marie seemed to read her thoughts. ‘He’s suspicious by nature.’

Sara couldn’t dismiss him so easily, although she did her best as Marie led her from group to group, the other girl loving the sensation they were causing.

‘I really must get back to Pete,’ Sara insisted at last, having noticed that he was having extreme difficulty conversing with the taciturn Dominic Thorne, those steely blue eyes never leaving Marie and herself.

Marie looked regretful. ‘And I suppose I should get back to Dominic.’ The smile she gave him was radiant, her hand once again through the crook of his arm as she looked up at him affectionately.

‘I think we should be going now,’ Sara told Pete.

‘Surely not?’ To her surprise it was Dominic Thorne who made the objection. ‘I was just going to ask you if you would care to dance.’

Sara loved to dance, although Pete had assured her that he was absolutely tone deaf and so hopeless at dancing. But despite her love of dancing she didn’t relish the idea of being relatively alone with Dominic Thorne.

‘I really think we should be leaving now.’ She put as much regret in her voice as she could in the circumstances.

Those hard blue eyes remained fixed on her face. ‘One dance isn’t going to delay you too long, surely?’ he persisted.

‘I——’

‘Oh, go on, Sara,’ Pete encouraged. ‘Five minutes isn’t going to make that much difference.’

‘It never pays to argue with Dominic,’ even Marie added her argument in favour of the dance.

Sara gave a resigned shrug. ‘Very well, I’d love to dance, Mr Thorne.’

‘Dominic, please,’ he could be heard saying as he manoeuvred her on to the space that had been cleared for dancing, some of the couples around them doing more than dancing as the alcohol they had consumed hit their bloodstream. Sara was quite embarassed by some of the things that were going on. ‘Ignore them,’ Dominic advised, seeing her shocked expression.

‘I—That’s a little difficult,’ she gasped as she saw one man blatantly touching the bare breast of his dancing partner.

Dominic saw it too, not bothering to dance any more but taking her hand and leading her out of the double doors that led to the garden.

Sara snatched her hand away, eyeing him warily. ‘Is it always like that?’ she asked disgustedly.

‘It gets worse,’ he derided.

Then thank goodness she was leaving. And thank goodness she hadn’t actually got to dance with this man. Even in the brief moment he had pulled her into his arms she had been aware of his masculinity, of the sensual air that surrounded him. Not that she felt any safer completely alone with him out here, where the noise of the party sounded strangely muted. And she soon realised why—he had closed the doors behind them.

He took a packet of cigars out of his breast pocket, lighting one with a gold lighter. ‘You’ve obviously never been to one of Cynthia’s parties before,’ he mocked.

Sara moved restlessly, wishing he would stop staring at her with those curiously intent eyes, as if he were trying to see into her very soul. ‘No,’ she confirmed nervously.

‘Have you been in England long?’ The query sounded casual, and yet Sara had the feeling it wasn’t any such thing.

She shrugged. ‘A few days.’

He nodded. ‘Are you here with your parents?’

‘They were both killed in a car accident six months ago,’ she said jerkily.

‘I see. I’m sorry,’ he added as an afterthought. ‘So you’re over here on holiday?’

‘Yes.’ No point in mentioning that she was slowly recovering from her own injuries in the car accident, it wasn’t of interest to this man.

‘So Mr Glenn is a relatively new acquaintance?’

‘Very new.’ She frowned. ‘I don’t understand the reason for these questions, Mr Thorne.’

He shrugged. ‘You didn’t seem surprised by Marie’s likeness to you, and as you are obviously an American and have only just arrived in England I wondered how you’d learnt of Marie’s existence.’

Sara stiffened. ‘I’m not sure that I like your tone, Mr Thorne.’ He sounded almost accusing, as if he suspected her of something but hadn’t yet stated these suspicions.

‘I’m sorry if you take exception to what I’ve said.’ But he didn’t look in the least sorry; his expression was hard, his eyes narrowed to icy slits. ‘But I’m sure you can understand my puzzlement as to your reason for seeking out my fiancéee.’

‘I didn’t seek her out!’ Sara snapped resentfully. ‘I admit that I wanted to see her, but only because so many people had taken me to be her, yourself included,’ she added pointedly. ‘I had no ulterior motive for meeting Marie, as you seem to be implying I have.’

Dominic Thorne remained unmoved by her heated outburst. ‘Did I do that?’ he asked silkily.

‘You know you did. Just why do you think I wanted to see Marie?’ There were two spots of angry colour in her cheeks.

He shrugged. ‘She’s rich, and——’

He didn’t get any further. Sara’s hand swung up to strike him forcibly on the side of the face, and she watched with satisfaction as angry red welts appeared on his rigid cheek. This satisfaction soon faded as she saw the angry glitter in glacial blue eyes.

‘You deserved that!’ she spluttered, backing away. ‘You——’

Now it was his turn to render her speechless—only his method was much more destructive! Barry had liked to kiss her, in his practised way he had believed he was arousing her, but this man, Dominic Thorne, ravaged her mouth with his lips, bent her curves to mould against his hard muscled body, rendered her breathless—and aroused her against her will.

‘How dare you!’ she demanded when he at last released her mouth, pushing away from him.

Her indignation only served to amuse him. ‘Couldn’t you have come out with something a little more original than that?’ he mocked. ‘You disappoint me, Miss Hamille.’

Her eyes flashed. ‘And you disappoint me too, Mr Thorne!’ She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, watching his expression darken. ‘I had expected more than brutality from the celebrated Dominic Thorne,’ she added insultingly.

‘You know,’ he drawled slowly, ‘your similarity to Marie is only skin-deep.’ His look was contemptuous of her slender curves and flushed face.

‘Maybe she appreciates your—your savagery,’ she spat the words at him angrily, ‘but I don’t! Excuse me, Mr Thorne, I hope I never have the misfortune to meet you again.’ She spun on her heel, but was stopped from leaving by his hand on her arm. ‘Let go of me!’ she ordered coldly.

He looked down at her, his jaw rigid, a pulse beating rapidly in his throat. ‘I hope we never meet again, Sara,’ his voice was husky. ‘But for a completely different reason from yours.’

‘Goodbye, Mr Thorne!’ She swung away from him, and this time he made no effort to stop her.

‘Goodbye, Sara …’ he said softly as she closed the door behind her.

She marched straight over to Pete as he still stood talking to Marie, her anger making her look even more beautiful in that moment. ‘I’m ready to leave,’ she told Pete tautly.

Marie burst out laughing. ‘Has Dominic been upsetting you?’ she chuckled. ‘I can see he has.’ She put her arm through Sara’s. ‘You mustn’t mind Dominic. If he’s been insulting you, which I think he must have done, he was probably only trying to protect me. Dominic always thinks he has to protect me from something.’

‘Then this time he’s done a good job of it,’ Sara said distantly. ‘I’m sorry I bothered you, Miss Lindlay. I can assure you I had no intention of upsetting you in any way.’

Marie’s smile was openly scornful. ‘I’m not upset. I’ve had the most fun tonight that I’ve had in a long time. If you give me your telephone number perhaps I can call you some time and we can have lunch together.’

Sara hesitated, Dominic Thorne’s determination for Marie and herself never to meet again fixed firmly in her mind. He had made his opinion more than clear, and she doubted if many people opposed that strong will of his.

‘Oh, please do,’ Marie encouraged. ‘Dominic doesn’t even have to know about it. Please,’ she added with a beguiling smile.

Sara knew this sort of persuasion of old—she must look exactly the same when she tried to get her own way. How could she possibly refuse! ‘All right.’ She wrote out her aunt’s telephone number on the piece of paper Marie provided. ‘But I’m only here for another couple of weeks at the most.’

‘Oh, I’ll call you before then,’ Marie assured her.

Sara saw Dominic Thorne fast approaching their little group and so she hurriedly made her goodbyes. She had had enough of him for one evening.

‘Where did Thorne take you?’ Pete asked on the drive home.

‘Outside,’ she revealed furiously. ‘He seemed to think I was trying to pull a stunt on them.’

Pete laughed. ‘Men like him don’t understand coincidence. How did you like Marie?’ he gave her a sideways glance.

‘How did you like her?’ She quirked an eyebrow at him. She hadn’t missed their slightly flirtatious manner when she had rejoined them.

‘I liked her a lot,’ he acknowledged softly. ‘It’s strange, the two of you look exactly alike, and yet there’s a difference. You have an air of sexual challenge about you that Marie doesn’t have, and I’m into the innocent look at the moment. Not that I’m complaining,’ he added hastily, ‘but I think Thorne probably spends most of his time fighting men off her.’

‘He certainly watches over her well,’ Sara said moodily.

‘So would I,’ Pete grinned.

‘Lecherous beast!’ She started to relax a little, her indignation about Dominic Thorne’-s treatment of her put firmly to the back of her mind. ‘I doubt if Marie would stay innocent for long around you.’

He shrugged. ‘Marie has these vibrations … and I felt them.’

Sara gave him a worried look. ‘I wouldn’t advise stepping on those particular toes.’ Dominic Thorne would deal far more ruthlessly with a man.

‘If the lady’s willing …’

‘Ah, but is she?’

‘I think she could be,’ he nodded.

She shrugged. ‘Then I wish you luck.’

If Dominic Thorne found out about it then Pete was going to need more than luck!

Her aunt and uncle were already in bed when she got in, although her aunt called to her as she changed into her nightclothes. Her uncle was fast asleep, but her aunt had her own bedside lamp on and had been reading. She put the book down when Sara came quietly into the room.

‘Oh, don’t mind your uncle,’ her aunt said at her questioning look. ‘He can sleep through anything, and often does. Did you have a nice time, dear?’

‘Quite nice, thank you.’ But she wouldn’t be seeing Pete again. They had parted as friends, but he was just another man who found Marie more attractive; Dominic Thorne had already made it known that she in no way compared to his Marie. ‘I’m not seeing Pete again, he’s going to be very busy the next few weeks,’ she excused to her aunt.

‘Were they nice people at this party?’

Sara smiled. ‘Or slightly mad like Pete?’ she teased.

‘Yes,’ her aunt admitted guiltily.

‘They were all—very nice.’

‘Well, I’m glad you had an enjoyable evening.’ She plumped up her pillow. ‘I think I’ll go to sleep now that I know you’re home.’

‘ ’Night,’ and Sara quietly left the room.

For some reason she had been loath to mention her meeting with Dominic Thorne and Marie Lindlay to her aunt.

CHAPTER THREE

EDDIE wanted to know all about her evening when he took her for her drive the next day.

‘Was Marie Lindlay really like you?’ he asked her.

She smiled. ‘Pete didn’t think so, he found her infinitely more attractive.’

‘The man has no taste!’ Eddie scoffed.

‘Marie’s fiancée seemed to agree with him.’

‘Thorne? Well, I suppose he does—after all, he’s going to marry her.’

‘Yes.’

Eddie quirked an eyebrow. ‘You don’t sound too sure?’

‘Oh, I’m sure they’ll marry. It’s just that—well, they’re an odd couple. Dominic Thorne must be years older than her, for one thing.’

He shrugged. ‘Thirty-five isn’t old.’

‘On him it is!’

Eddie laughed. ‘He certainly hasn’t made a conquest out of you.’

‘Does he usually?’ Sara scorned.

‘Has them queueing up,’ Eddie nodded. ‘Before his engagement to Marie Lindlay this last year he was the most sought after man in town. Come to think of it,’ he grinned, ‘he still is.’

‘Mm, he doesn’t look the faithful type.’ He had been a man completely in command, who did what he wanted when he wanted, and woe betide anyone who got in his way. Besides, he hadn’t hesitated about kissing her.

‘Then they make a good pair,’ Eddie said dryly.

Sara gave him a sharp look. ‘Meaning?’

‘Meaning Pete has a date with the lovely Marie this evening.’

She couldn’t hide her surprise. Dominic Thorne would be furious about that if he ever found out. And why on earth was Marie doing it? Having seen for herself how angry Dominic Thorne had been when he had thought she was Marie out with Eddie, then Sara thought Marie ought to have more sense. After all, she must know him so much better than Sara did, must realise the full force of his anger—and the full force of his lovemaking too! No one seemed to wait for the wedding any more.

Except Sara! Barry had constantly tried to persuade her into a more intimate relationship, and she had always refused, something she was glad of when he let her down in that way. How much more awful it would have been if they had been lovers!

There was such a lot of pressure about sex nowadays, from television, advertising, and most of all from society itself. Sara had been thought something of a freak by her model friends because she had no tales of bedroom romps to tell them.

They had found great pleasure in recounting whose bed they had slept in—although from all accounts sleep was the last thing they did!—the evening before, and although Sara had politely listened she had found it all rather sordid, instead of the excitement the other girls insisted it was.

Not that she was a prude, and she certainly didn’t say to herself before she went out with a man, ‘I must not sleep with him’; she just hadn’t ever met a man that she loved, a man who excited her so much she gave herself to him willingly. If that day ever came she would go to him without thought of the future, would give herself body and soul into his keeping.

What her friends in the States didn’t seem to realise was that they were invited out for the evening, perhaps two evenings, and when these men had taken the thing they were really interested in they didn’t want to know any more.

‘Hey, you weren’t interested in Pete yourself, were you?’ Eddie broke into her thoughts.

‘No,’ she could deny with ease. ‘I was just wondering why Marie took such risks.’

He shrugged. ‘For the hell of it, I should think. Thorne must be something to see in a jealous rage.’

Not really. He had treated her more like a naughty schoolgirl when he had ordered her home from the casino. And he hadn’t taken her home himself, but had told her to get her escort to take her. Not exactly a jealous rage!

‘Is it almost lunchtime?’ she changed the subject. ‘I’m starting to get very hungry.’

Eddie grinned. ‘I thought you’d never ask! I don’t mind being your chauffeur, but all this green countryside and pure fresh air is making me thirsty.’

Sara felt very guilty, because she had hardly noticed the countryside she had come out to see, being much too wrapped up in thoughts of Dominic Thorne and Marie Lindlay. Not that she ever expected to hear from the other girl; she felt sure her arrogant fiancée would make sure that she didn’t.

‘Where are we?’ she asked with interest.

‘Royal Berkshire,’ he announced.

‘Oh? Anywhere near Windsor Castle?’

Eddie grimaced. ‘Very near. Don’t tell me you want to see that too?’

‘Well … I wouldn’t mind.’ She gave him a coaxing smile.

‘Okay,’ he sighed. ‘But a beer and lunch first,’ he added as her face lit up with excitement.

‘Lunch in a pub?’ Her eyes glowed. ‘Oh, good,’ she grinned. ‘I’m really getting to like your English pubs.’

Eddie drove into a pub car park. ‘For goodness’ sake don’t tell Aunt Susan I’ve taken you to another one. She gave me an earful the last time!’

‘I won’t tell her,’ Sara assured him.

It seemed there were a lot of things she was keeping to herself lately, and not normally being a secretive girl she was surprised at herself.

Lunch was delicious, a lovely prawn salad served to them out in the garden. Sara also enjoyed the lager and lime Eddie bought her. She enjoyed going around Windsor Castle too, and although Eddie moaned about it she thought he secretly enjoyed it too.

‘I bet it’s years since you went there,’ she teased on the drive home. The time was now well on the way towards dinner.

Eddie looked shamefaced. ‘Well, actually, I—I’ve never been before,’ he admitted.

Her eyes widened. ‘Never been to Windsor Castle?’

‘There’s no need to look so surprised.’ He looked sheepish. ‘It isn’t unusual not to visit a place that’s more or less on your doorstep. You’ve probably never been to Disney World!’ he scorned.

‘Wrong,’ Sara smiled. ‘I’ve been dozens of times—I love it. It’s absolutely fantastic. I feel like a little girl again when I go there.’

‘You probably look like one too. You’re very easy to be with, Sara,’ Eddie said suddenly. ‘And I mean that in the nicest way possible.’

‘I know,’ she accepted huskily. ‘I’ve enjoyed today.’

‘So have I.’ He seemed surprised by the fact.

‘It’s just like having a brother,’ she said sleepily, leaning tiredly back against the headrest.

‘It’s okay,’ Eddie laughed, ‘I wasn’t moving in for the kill.’

Sara smiled at her own conceit, then dozed off in the warmth of the car and the monotonous hum of the engine.

She woke with a jerk, a curious feeling of foreboding hanging over her.

The feeling persisted over the next few days, so much so that she found she wasn’t sleeping at night. The doctor had warned her of this delayed shock, the long air flight on top of her already weakened state sapping what little energy she had, and she spent the next three or four days resting, not going far from the house.

Consequently she was at home when Marie Lindlay telephoned her, and answered the call herself. The idea of meeting for lunch appealed to her, and the two girls arranged to meet at a restaurant in town.

There was no sign of Marie when she arrived at the arranged time, although the doorman insisted on calling her

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