About the Author

MIRANDA LEE is Australian, and lives near Sydney. Born and raised in the bush, she was boarding-school-educated, and briefly pursued a career in classical music before moving to Sydney and embracing the world of computers. Happily married, with three daughters, she began writing when family commitments kept her at home. She likes to create stories that are believable, modern, fast-paced and sexy. Her interests include meaty sagas, doing word puzzles, gambling and going to the movies.

Recent titles by the same author:

MASTER OF HER VIRTUE

CONTRACT WITH CONSEQUENCES

THE MAN EVERY WOMAN WANTS

NOT A MARRYING MAN

Did you know these are also available as eBooks? Visit www.millsandboon.co.uk

Fugitive Bride
Miranda Lee

www.millsandboon.co.uk

PROLOGUE

THE letter stood out because of its pink perfumed envelope.

Enid hesitated, then shrugged and opened it. As Gerard Woodward’s confidential secretary she had permission to open all mail which came to the office unless it was clearly marked ‘Private and Personal’. In fact, Gerard insisted upon it. He also insisted she decide and deal with everything not needing his individual attention. The head of Sunshine Enterprises did not want to be bothered with trivia.

Enid knew, however, from the first few words, that this was one letter she shouldn’t have opened. But the damage had been done and there was no going back. She scanned the brief note all the way through, her chest becoming tighter with each word.

Dear Gerard,

By the time you read this I will have left you. Don’t try to find me. You won’t succeed. Even if you do, I won’t come back to you, no matter what. Believe me when I say I never want to see you again. I overheard what you said to Steven last Sunday regarding your attitude towards love and marriage. And wives.

May God forgive you for what you’ve done to me, because I never will.

Leah

‘Dear God,’ Enid muttered.

She closed her eyes for a second, swivelled round in her chair and stood up. There was no use trying to hide her mistake in judgement. Gerard could not really blame her for opening the darned thing, though he might criticise her lack of feminine intuition. He would be really furious, however, at any delay in acquainting him with such a letter.

Gathering herself, she stepped up to the door which separated her office from her employer’s and gave it her usual precise tap-tap.

‘Yes,’ came the curt reply.

Enid straightened her spine and marshalled a confident expression.

Gerard was a difficult and demanding boss at the best of times, a workaholic with a perfectionist personality. Failure was anathema to him; success his God. The man who would be king of Queensland’s tourist industry was ruthless when crossed and given to caustic comments whenever anyone didn’t come up to his impossibly high standards.

Fortunately, Enid was a top secretary, totally competent, cool in a crisis and unflappable under fire. During the eight years she’d held this job it had been rare for her to provoke her boss into criticising her work performance.

On the one occasion when she had been on the end of Gerard’s cutting sarcasm Enid had been tempted to quit on the spot. She’d had a husband once with a nasty tongue and did not relish being on the end of anyone’s temper these days.

But she was forty-six years old, and didn’t fancy her chances on the open and very tough job market. Her qualifications were impeccable, but so were those of younger women who had more going for them than their secretarial skills.

Glamour had never been Enid’s strong hand, and she looked every minute of her age. So she’d bitten her tongue at the time, while reminding herself Gerard paid her well enough to put up with the occasional blast.

But she didn’t like the man. Not one bit.

Steeling herself against what was to come, she opened the door and stepped into the holy of holies.

He didn’t look up, his attention all on some photographs he was studying. No doubt some cute coastal town was about to be besieged by offers its inhabitants couldn’t refuse, after which their quiet, uncontaminated lives would never be the same again.

‘What is it, Enid?’ he said brusquely, still without looking up.

Enid almost relished giving him the damned thing. Serve him right, she thought.

‘This letter came in the morning mail, Gerard,’ she said coolly. ‘I thought you would want to read it straight away.’

Now she had his attention, his dark head snapping up, a frown not marring his disgustingly handsome face.

‘Who’s it from?’

‘Your wife.’

‘Leah?’ He could not have been more startled.

‘I’m sorry, Gerard. It wasn’t marked “Private”, and there was no reason for me not to open it.’ She came forward and handed the note across to him, thanking her lucky stars that the simple white paper it was written on was not as fancy as the pink envelope.

Butterflies crowded in Enid’s stomach as her boss’s piercing blue eyes immediately dropped to the note. She watched him read the ‘Dear John’ letter, watched as he tried to absorb his wife’s rejection of him as a man and a husband.

A small shred of sympathy twisted Enid’s heart. For she knew this had to be killing him. Gerard so hated to fail in anything.

Losing in a business deal was bad enough.

Losing his wife was something else…

Who would have believed it of Leah? To all appearances she was such a soft, trusting soul, a mere child when compared to her cynical and streetwise husband. Just twenty-one to his very sophisticated thirty-three. A babe in the woods. A lovely yet naive girl whom Gerard had clearly thought he could mould and train to be the sort of wife who would never give him any trouble: the type who stayed home and filled the roles of mother, lover and hostess to perfection, who never complained when he was late for dinner or had to fly away on business at a moment’s notice, the type who loved her husband to distraction and blindly believed he loved her back, simply because he told her so.

Enid had cynically watched her employer play his own roles to perfection so far. He’d been the perfect courtier, the perfect fiancé, the perfect new husband. Nothing had been too good for his bride. He’d showered her with every luxury money could provide. He’d seemingly showered her with his personal attention as well… up to a point.

Not that they’d been married long. Just over nine months.

Enid had been waiting for the rot to set in, for Gerard to show his true colours. And it seemed he had.

For ages he just sat there and stared at the paper. When his hands started shaking, he crumpled the note into a crushed ball and leapt to his feet, his face flushing angrily.

‘You read this?’ he growled, glaring at Enid.

She nodded.

He swore, then whirled to stalk over to the far window which overlooked the Brisbane river. But he didn’t look at the view. With hands still shaking, he unfolded the crushed note and read it again.

Suddenly he spun back to face Enid, his blue eyes glittering as they did when he got the bit between his teeth over something and was about to run with it.

‘Do you have the envelope this came in?’

Enid nodded again, but she was quaking in her sensible shoes. One look at that envelope and he might question her discretion in opening it.

‘Get it for me,’ he snapped. ‘And get Burt Lathom on the phone.’

Enid’s eyes rounded. Burt Lathom was a private investigator Gerard used sometimes when he needed to find some dirt on one of his competitors. The man was thorough and usually came through with the goods.

‘Well, don’t just stand there gawking at me,’ Gerard snarled. ‘That won’t bring Leah back, will it?’

‘But… she said she didn’t want to come back,’ Enid was driven to protest for a fellow female.

‘The only thing Leah wants,’ Gerard ground out with his usual one-eyed stubbornness, ‘is to be my wife. Unfortunately, she has totally misunderstood some things I said to a man who was distressed over his divorce at the time. When Burt finds her I’ll make her see that. Now hop to it, woman. Time is a-wasting. I have an important business dinner this coming Saturday night and my wife is going to be there, by my side, as usual!’

Enid had no choice but to do as she was told, but she did so resentfully, hoping all the while that Burt Lathom would be unsuccessful. Leah was a sweet girl and deserved better than to be hoodwinked by the likes of Gerard Woodward.

Handsome he might be. And clever. And rich. But there wasn’t a soft-hearted cell in his entire body. He was a ruthless predator who was incapable of really loving a woman. He was a user and a manipulator. A conscienceless cynic.

Unfortunately, Leah loved him. Even Enid had seen that. She fairly glowed whenever he looked at her. In all likelihood she still loved him, despite that letter.

Enid prayed Gerard would never find his fugitive bride. For God knows what would happen to her, if and when he did.

CHAPTER ONE

SIX months.

Leah leant against the mast of the old pearling lugger, dragged in a deep breath of sea air, then let it out slowly.

Six months…

Time to relax at last, perhaps? Time to stop looking over her shoulder and expecting Gerard to be standing there?

He hadn’t found her yet.

Which still surprised her.

Admittedly, she’d planned her escape well, had known how imperative it was not to leave anything for him to go on. She’d taken nothing which belonged to her life as Mrs Gerard Woodward. Not her gleaming white Porsche. None of the glamorous clothes hanging in her massive walk-in wardrobe. Certainly none of her credit cards.

Only cash. And then only as much as she needed.

Leah had wanted nothing from her marriage except escape.

She hadn’t gone home to Hidden Bay, not even for a moment, because that would have been the first place Gerard would look. She’d fled to Townsville where her brothers had organised for her to help a friend take a racing boat to Indonesia, after which she’d crewed on another racing boat, returning it to its rich owners on the Riviera.

Now she was back in Australia, but in a place Gerard would not think to look.

Leah closed her eyes momentarily, a tremor racing through her. She might have physically escaped, but it would be a long time before she found emotional escape. Gerard was out of sight, but would he ever be dispelled from her mind? Or ejected from her traitorous body?

She still dreamt of him at night, disturbing dreams in which Gerard was inevitably making love to her as only he could. She would always wake just as the act was being consummated, leaving her hot and trembling from a desire as real as the dream had seemed.

How long, she agonised, before the fires Gerard had carefully and callously stoked within her were extinguished? How long before she stopped needing what he’d made her addicted to? Him, every night in her bed. Him, making her respond, even when she didn’t want to.

Leah shuddered at the memory of her appalling weakness for the man, even after her shocking discovery that Sunday.

How could she have let him make love to her that night when she’d known what he was? Worse, how could she have found pleasure in it?

She shuddered again, despising herself anew. It was wicked for a man to have such power over a woman. There again, Gerard was wicked.

Leah sighed. He’d looked anything but wicked that day eighteen months ago when he’d come striding down the pier at Hidden Bay, wearing dazzlingly white shorts and T-shirt, perfect foils for his deeply olive skin and jet-black hair. Perfect vehicles to display his tall, superbly muscled body.

Leah was not to learn till after their marriage how hard Gerard worked on that body, witnessing herself the gruelling daily weight routine he put himself through in his private gym to achieve such physical perfection.

He didn’t have to work on his face, however. It had been born perfect, with classically sculptured features, a mouth to die for and come-to-bed blue eyes.

Leah would never forget the instant lurching in her stomach when she’d looked up and seen that handsome face for the first time…

‘Hi, there,’ he said, coming to a halt near the prow of her brothers’ fishing charter boat and giving her a very slow and sexually charged once-over. ‘You for hire, honey?’

She just gaped at him, colour flooding up her throat and into her cheeks.

‘The boat, darling,’ he drawled, his eyes gleaming with wry amusement. ‘I meant the boat.’

‘Oh.’ She straightened from where she’d been swabbing the deck with a mop and bucket.

Of course he meant the boat! How could she have possibly imagined a man like him meant otherwise, even for a moment? Good grief, she must look a sight, with perspiration running down her face, her hair half falling down, and her shorts and top soggy from the water she’d been sloshing around in somewhat of a temper.

‘Hot and bothered’ did not begin to describe her at that moment, her discomfort not helped by this amazingly good-looking man who kept staring at her.

Not at her flushed face, however. At her…

A panicky downward glance confirmed that one of her braless breasts was clearly outlined against a patch of damp cotton, the startlingly erect nipple making a real exhibition of itself.

Embarrassment snapped Leah’s hands together across her chest, the inadequately shielding handle of the mop clasped between them.

‘Yes, it is,’ she said, hating her high-pitched voice. ‘But Mike and Pete aren’t here at the moment.’

‘Mike and Pete?’

Leah gulped down the lump in her throat and gathered a modicum of composure. ‘My brothers. They own the boat. They should be back soon. They went trail-bike riding with some mates early this morning.’ Which was the only time to go, before the heat of the day. If living on the Queensland coast had one major drawback it was the sometimes debilitating humidity.

‘And left you to do all the dirty work, I see.’

Leah didn’t like the criticism in the stranger’s words. No one was allowed to criticise her brothers except herself! ‘Not at all,’ she defended. ‘They work hard and deserve a morning off. It’s just that I have an aversion to washing floors. Any other cleaning job I’ll do quite willingly. But not floors.’

‘In that case I promise never to ask you to wash my floors.’ He smiled widely at her, his blue eyes dancing.

Leah found herself smiling back, even while her heart fluttered and her stomach flipped over. Never had a man affected her like this. There again, never had a man like this come to Hidden Bay before.

They didn’t call the bay ‘Hidden’ for nothing. The pear-shaped cove was well disguised from the sea by overlapping headlands, high hills and thick vegetation. A small community of whalers had settled there a hundred years before, the protected bay a perfect sanctuary for their boats during the cyclone season.

Nowadays it only boasted about two hundred permanent residents. The electricity had finally been connected a few years back, and last year they’d celebrated the first sealed road leading out of the place, finally giving the world access without having to use a four-wheel drive.

Despite such stunning progress, not many outsiders knew of Hidden Bay’s existence, and those who did guarded its location like a guilty secret. There were several families from down south who came up for their holidays during the cooler months, putting up with the lack of facilities in exchange for no pollution, warm waters and perfect peace and quiet. They’d begun arriving last week.

Despite his casual gear, the man standing before Leah didn’t look as if he was attached to those intrepid holidaymakers, who were salt-of-the-earth types, people who liked nothing better than to sit around a campfire after a lazy day fishing, drinking a tinnie or two and discussing the ones who’d got away.

Leah suspected this fellow was used to more sophisticated pastimes. There was something about the cut and grooming of his thick black wavy hair which shouted money. That gold watch on his wrist looked very expensive as well, as did the wraparound sunglasses dangling from his left hand.

She wondered what on earth he was doing here, and why he wanted to hire her brothers’ boat. There seemed only one likely explanation.

‘I suppose you want Mike and Pete to take you deep-sea fishing,’ she said, more of a statement than a question. They did get the odd marlin-manic millionaire finding his way to their boat charter business, hoping that the less-fished waters would provide some spectacular catches. But in truth the ocean just off Hidden Bay rarely gave up its really big fish. But there were loads of coral trout, red emperor and snapper to be had.

‘No, I’m not interested in fishing,’ he said.

‘Well, we don’t do holiday cruises, if that’s what you’re looking for. Only fishing charters.’

‘That’s all right. I don’t want a holiday cruise, either,’ he said, his gaze travelling over her from head to toe a second time.

Leah had always had to put up with a degree of male attention, being tall, blonde and pretty, with a good figure. Normally she didn’t mind, except when the male in question was being really objectionable. Her over-protective older brothers, however, always went ballistic.

Ever since their parents had passed away they’d assumed the roles of her guardians with a vengeance, being incredibly strict for two modern lads who thought nothing of the fact that they were both sleeping with their girlfriends—both of whom weren’t much older than Leah.

If a local lad had the temerity to ask their kid sister out, he was issued with such dire warnings that Leah’s relationships with the opposite sex never lasted long. Never got off the ground, really.

She was a week short of twenty and still a virgin.

Not that she minded her inexperience. She’d never thought she was missing out on anything. In truth, she’d never felt the slightest inclination to go beyond kissing and hand-holding with any male.

Till now…

‘Well, what do you want, then?’ she asked, mildly exasperated and more than a little agitated by the alien feelings flooding through her.

‘Just to have a good look around the bay,’ he said coolly, even while his eyes kept eating her up. ‘I’d heard about this place, but had no idea it had such hidden… treasures.’

Leah could hardly believe the messages he was sending, both with his smouldering blue gaze and this last astonishing double entendre. She stared back at him, beyond blushing now, beyond anything but savouring the seductive thought that this incredibly handsome, suave, sexy, assured man seemed to be finding her as irresistibly attractive as she found him.

‘My name’s Gerard, by the way,’ he said, climbing over onto the deck of the boat and holding out his large tanned hand. ‘Gerard Woodward.’

‘Leah,’ she returned breathlessly, and placed her own slender and slightly shaking fingers within the confines of his longer and much stronger grip. ‘Leah… um… um…’ Panic set in as her befuddled brain blankly scoured her memory for her own silly surname!

‘Leah Um-Um,’ he said teasingly. ‘What an interesting name.’

The blush rushed back, hotter than ever.

‘It’s White,’ she blurted out at last. ‘Leah White.’ Dear Heaven, but why did she have to make a fool of herself in front of him?

‘Well, Leah White,’ he said, his smile soft and warm, ‘I think that’s a very nice name and suits you admirably. But Woodward would be better.’

‘Woodward?’

‘That’s my name. Have you forgotten it already? What fun it will be to tell our children that when their mother met their father she forgot her own name, and then his.’

‘Our children?’ she choked out.

‘You do want children, don’t you?’ he asked, for all the world as if it was a serious question.

‘I… I…’

His smile became both admiring and indulgent as he lifted her fingers to his mouth. ‘I can see I’ll have to make all the important decisions in our marriage. But that’s all right by me,’ he murmured as he kissed each fingertip in turn. ‘I’ve always believed that a man is head of his family and king of his castle.’

Leah snatched her hand away from him. ‘You’re crazy as a loon!’

‘Not at all,’ he returned, without turning a hair. ‘In fact, I could give you a hundred references testifying to my sanity. But I appreciate I am rushing you a little. I promise to slow down if you promise to have dinner with me tonight. Ah… these must be your brothers now. Mike and Pete, did you say?’

She nodded dumbly, and watched while he charmed her two normally wary big brothers as effortlessly as he had charmed her.

He explained he was a property developer from Brisbane who was interested in buying some land in the area—with a view to building a small but exclusive resort. Any quibbles or qualms the boys raised about such a development were quickly waylaid by Gerard’s ready reassurances. Anything he built would fit right into the environment and not spoil the area. It would also bring some much needed money into the local community. He would guarantee it!

By the end of the day neither Mike nor Pete made any objection whatsoever when Gerard politely asked their permission to take Leah to dinner. He wasn’t given a single warning. Not one!

As it turned out, he didn’t need one. For he didn’t lay a finger on Leah, just a small peck goodnight on her cheek.

She lay awake into the wee small hours, thinking of him…

And so began their whirlwind courtship, Gerard sweeping Leah off to the altar barely three months after their first meeting.

She went to his bed on their wedding night still a virgin.

Not that she’d wanted to be. The moment she’d set eyes on Gerard he’d stirred a sensuality in her she hadn’t known she possessed. But he’d wanted to wait, he’d told her.

At the time she’d thought that was so sweet. Now she realised it was all part of his Prince Charming act. In reality he’d probably had some other woman on the side, catering to his carnal needs, while he made silly Leah wait. By the time the wedding had come along she’d been consumed by the most excruciating sexual tension, a ready slave for whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it.

Prince Charming indeed! He was the devil incarnate!

Leah sometimes wondered what would have happened if she hadn’t decided to go for a walk in the garden that fateful night, if she’d never overheard that appalling conversation. The realisation that she would still be going along blithely and blindly as Mrs Gerard Woodward brought mixed feelings. Maybe it would have been better if she’d never found out. She’d been happy, hadn’t she?

Not entirely, she was forced to concede. Oh, yes, Gerard had given her everything she could possibly want. He’d spoiled her outrageously.

And it had been wonderful for a while. Gerard had swept her into a world she hardly knew existed, a sophisticated glamorous world of designer gowns, dinner parties and decadently expensive restaurants. She’d been agog with excitement over it all for the first few months.

But eventually her privileged and pampered lifestyle had begun to pall a little. She’d become bored with having nothing to fill her days but dress-fittings and hair appointments. Her only activity had been to make herself beautiful for the evenings she spent with her husband.

Once the honeymoon was over, she’d rarely seen Gerard during the day, and he worked six days a week. Sundays hadn’t been much better. He’d spent so much time on the telephone, even in the car when they were driving somewhere. Mobile phones, she believed, were a menace.

When she’d mildly complained over breakfast one day of her loneliness and boredom, Gerard had suggested charity organisations, flower-arranging classes and cordon bleu cookery courses. When she’d hinted at a baby instead, he’d vetoed that for another year at least. He wanted her all to himself for a while, he’d said.

That night he’d come home with two dozen red roses and made love to her for hours.

Looking back, Leah could well understand why she hadn’t been really content! Gerard had reduced her to nothing but a glorified mistress and hostess. He hadn’t discussed his business with her, except in scant detail. She knew nothing much about his past, or even his present, except what he’d chosen to tell her. Which wasn’t much. She’d had no friends of her own. No life of her own, except as Gerard’s wife.

It had been her growing discontent which had driven her into the garden that fateful evening. One of Gerard’s business colleagues had come over for dinner, and, true to form, after coffee Gerard had taken him into his study to talk business, leaving Leah at a loose end. As usual.

So she’d decided to walk down to the garden seat which overlooked the Brisbane river. Water always soothed her. It was a very pretty spot at night, looking across from their exclusive position on Kangaroo Point to the Story Bridge, and the lights of the city beyond.

She’d left the house by a side door, and had been walking along a path not far from the study when the open French doors and the stillness of the sultry evening had caused Gerard’s voice to carry far beyond the room.

‘You made a big mistake marrying a woman you loved so madly, Steven. Such passion destroys a man’s brain cells. And his judgement. Marriage should be approached like a business deal. With lots of cool thought and calculated research.’

On hearing those first shocking comments, Leah became riveted to the spot. But there were more shocks to come.

‘There are two types of women,’ Gerard continued. ‘Soft and hard. The givers and the takers. The first wants to love and be loved in return. The second wants everything else. Believe me when I tell you that these days the soft ones are getting rarer. You have to get them young, before they’re contaminated by other men. And life.

‘Take Leah for instance. She was only nineteen when I met her and had had no serious boyfriends before me. Naturally, she wasn’t from the city. Generally speaking, city girls are bad news. I knew from the moment I met Leah that she was just what I was looking for. Perfect wife material in every way. Innocent, sweet, beautiful. A natural giver.’

‘And very much in love with you,’ Steven remarked drily.

‘Still is,’ Gerard pronounced with a casual arrogance that took Leah’s breath away.

‘Of course, we’ve only been married a short time,’ he went on. ‘But I have no intention of ever becoming too complacent where Leah is concerned. You know what happens when you neglect a business. Before you know it the damned thing folds. I gave up a whole month for our honeymoon, and still pour a lot of time and money into my beautiful new bride. I don’t neglect her in the bedroom and I give her every material thing any woman could possibly desire, in return for which she gives me what every man wants. Complete love and loyalty.’

‘But don’t you love her, Gerard?’ came Steven’s troubled question.

‘Love wears best on a woman,’ came his coldly cynical reply. ‘As I said before, a man who loves is weaker for it. It makes him stupid. And vulnerable. The last thing a woman wants is a husband who’s weak, stupid and vulnerable. In the ends she falls out of love with such a fool and leaves him for another, stronger individual. Of course, I’m not saying you don’t tell them you love them. Amazing what those three little words can do for a marriage. I don’t let a day go by without telling Leah how much I love her.’

‘That sounds awfully callous, Gerard…’

‘Not at all. It works, Steven. You won’t find my marriage ending in divorce, you mark my words.’

Leah had certainly marked them. All of them.

What a pity she hadn’t had the courage to throw them in his face, personally!

She’d been going to confront him that night, as soon as Steven had left the house. But the wretched man had stayed for ages, till her own misery had forced her to go upstairs to bed.

Not that she’d slept. Midnight had found her lying wide awake in bed, tensely listening to Gerard’s footsteps on the stairs.

‘Waiting up for me, darling?’ he said on entering the room. ‘How sweet,’ he murmured, smiling softly down at her as he undressed.

Leah watched him, dry-mouthed, her stomach swirling with a mixture of distress and dismay. She felt sickened by the situation, and her foolishness in being taken in by him so easily.

And yet, how could she have known what he was? He’d always been so incredibly good to her, had fulfilled all her romantic dreams, especially in bed. No man could have been a better lover. Or more considerate.

Her mind was whirling with all these thoughts when he slipped into bed beside her. Her mouth opened to say something, only to be covered by his in a gentle kiss. Much more gentle than was his usual style. Leah hoped that meant he wasn’t going to continue, that it was just a goodnight kiss. But it seemed stopping was not on Gerard’s mind. Soon, it wasn’t on her mind, either.

Afterwards, she lay there, stunned, shattered. How could she have let him? And how could she possibly have found pleasure in it?

It was then that she knew she had to remove herself completely from his corruptive physical presence. She had to flee. If she confronted him with the truth—that she’d overheard what he’d told Steven in the study after dinner—he would find some way to explain it, to convince her that he didn’t really believe what he’d said, that he did really love her.

Gerard was a natural born salesman. A clever and convincing talker. He could almost make people believe black was white when he wanted to. On top of that he would surely use sex against her, seducing her to his will, corrupting her with the pleasures of the flesh.

Leah believed if she let him do that, she would be lost. She could bear a lot of things in life, but she could not bear to live a lie. Gerard’s love had meant the world to her. Dear heaven, it was her world! She’d given up everything for him. Her family and friends. Her home. Her beloved ocean.

All for nothing. An illusion. A trap.

On the Monday, she made her secret plans to flee the marriage, and this man who had such terrible power over her—demonstrating that power again that night, despite Leah finding what she hoped was the perfect excuse to be left alone. A migraine.

Her claim of a headache, however, brought nothing but solicitous offerings of painkillers and an aromatherapy massage. Admittedly, it had been a very long, very sensual massage. In the end she succumbed to those knowing hands, despising herself all the while she was wallowing in her husband’s erotic expertise. When she sobbed afterwards in his arms, he actually thought her still in pain, and was so apologetic she almost thought she had to be mistaken about him.

But that was just desperation talking, silly Leah not wanting to believe she could still love and want any man who could speak of marriage—their marriage—as he had that Sunday evening.

The final night she spent in their marital bed did not include any further humiliation. Leah could not have borne it. She’d come to the difficult decision to take the initiative in the bedroom that last night, thereby salvaging what little pride and self-respect she had left. Better she accept the inevitable with some dignity than act like some ninny of a victim who could not help herself.

So she climbed into their bed naked and reached for him first, startling him. Not once during their marriage had she done that. Perversely, he’d seemed very pleased. He didn’t realise her actions were inspired by desperation. And despair.

It was ironic that his subsequent lovemaking carried a sweet tenderness Leah had never previously experienced in his arms. She responded to that tenderness, even more than she had to his passion the previous two nights.

Gerard would never know how much he had lost in losing her. She would have devoted her life to him, if only he’d loved her back. Instead, he’d reduced her to nothing but a shell of a woman, tormented by thoughts of what might have been, tortured by what her marriage had actually been.

A cruel, cynical, cold-blooded sham.

‘Got the food and drink ready, Leah?’

Leah spun round, the sea breeze whipping her long honey-blonde hair across her face. ‘Yes, Alan. Everything’s ready,’ she called back.

‘Good girl. Hold the fort while I collect tonight’s party,’ he said, nodding towards the distant figures on the beach.

Leah shaded her eyes with her hands and peered to shore. She knew they had a booking for six, but not the ages or sexes of the people. It looked like two couples, a single woman and a single man. You could usually guess their status by the way they stood, either in close pairs or out on their own.

‘Won’t be long.’ Alan undid the rope, jumped into the Zodiac dinghy and fired the outboard motor. Within seconds the small craft was speeding across the water towards the beach, its flat bottom slapping across the tops of the waves, salt spray flying everywhere.

He was a bit of a cowboy, was Alan.

He was also the captain and owner of The Zephyr, an old pearling lugger built back in the 1920s. Alan had bought it a few years back, and now made a tidy living carrying tourists up and down the West Australian coast, his speciality being sunset cruises along Cable Beach during the Broome holiday season, which ran from late May till early September.

Six weeks ago Leah had heard on the yachtie grapevine in Darwin that the owner of The Zephyr wanted a female deck-hand, someone young and attractive who knew about sailing boats and who could handle the hostessing part of the job. So she’d applied and been immediately offered the job. Once she’d assured herself Alan didn’t think he was hiring himself a live-in lover for the duration, she’d had no hesitation in accepting his offer.

He’d been a perfect gentleman so far. Not so perfect a gentleman with other members of her sex, however. A steady stream of women had trailed through the captain’s cabin since The Zephyr’s arrival in Broome.

Alan had this thing for older women, it seemed. He had no trouble reeling them in, either. Around thirty-five, he wasn’t what Leah would have called handsome. But it seemed his long blond hair, bronzed body and soulful brown eyes always got the women in, especially the ones around forty.

Leah wondered if the unattached woman standing alone on that beach might be in Alan’s required age bracket. It was a distinct possibility, and she watched him angle the boat further in than usual.

The wide flat tides around Cable Beach made it impossible to use a regular dinghy to pick up their clients. Most times, Alan still couldn’t get the Zodiac right in, and the people had to wade out a bit into the water. He only made this kind of extra effort when a lady he fancied was concerned.

Leah shook her head. Some men were devils when it came to women and sex, she decided. She wanted nothing more to do with that type. Not ever!

Alan turned the Zodiac—now lined with people—and headed back towards the lugger, going as fast as ever. Show-off, Leah thought wryly as she moved to stand at the side railing, ready to help everyone aboard. Twenty seconds later, the small craft was close enough for her to make out the various eager and expectant faces.

When her gaze moved to the man sitting alone at the back her eyes flung wide, her heart missing more than a beat.

‘Oh, no,’ she groaned. ‘No, it can’t be.’

But there was no mistaking that handsome face. Or those penetrating eyes.

Her husband had found her.

There was no escape this time, not unless she flung herself into the depths of the Indian Ocean.

CHAPTER TWO

HER heart started thudding. Blood began roaring through her head. As did a whole host of furious thoughts.

How dared he pursue her like this?

Six months had gone by. Six long, miserable months. She’d just begun to feel safe. Just begun to feel as if she might survive without him. And what does he do? Turns up like a bad penny!

What in God’s name did she have to do to make good her escape? She’d fled the damned country, hadn’t she? Lived on the high seas. Worked menial jobs in far-flung harbours around the world for months before daring to return to Australia. Even then, she’d only stayed because this job had been in such a remote corner of the country. Gerard had always said he had no interest in any other state except Queensland.

How had he found her? Had some wretched tourist from Brisbane recognised her and reported back to him?

No, she decided. That wouldn’t have been likely. People from Brisbane rarely holidayed in Broome.

He’d found her the way men like him always found people. He’d hired some professional to hunt her down, to track her like some wretched criminal on the run. And now that she’d been found, he’d come himself to hound her into going back to him.

Well, she wouldn’t! Never! Ever! He would have to hog-tie her and drag her back to Brisbane. She would never voluntarily go back.

Leah had thought she’d be afraid if and when Gerard caught up with her, thought she’d be terrified of the wicked power he had over her. She wasn’t. She was simply livid!

Her eyes glared daggers at him as the Zodiac pulled alongside. She didn’t notice Alan glaring at her when she failed to take the rope and secure the boat to the lugger. All she saw was Gerard, staring back at her with a blank expression, as though he had no idea why she was scowling at him with such ill-concealed fury.

His lack of sensitivity only infuriated her further.

Alan finally communicated his own frustration with Leah by throwing the rope into her hands.

Reluctantly, she turned her attention to the job at hand, securing the boat to the side of the lugger. Her smile was stiff as she introduced herself, then proceeded to help the party aboard, finding out in the process that the first couple were called David and Dawn, and the second Geoff and Peggy. All four were around sixty and obviously good friends, confiding in Leah within seconds that they’d all retired recently and had been travelling around Australia together for several weeks.

The single woman’s name was Sandra. She was fortyish, as Leah had guessed. Quite attractive too, she supposed, if you liked plump blondes who wore too much make-up and gushed over everything. The avid glances Alan was giving Sandra’s womanly derriere as she stepped onto the deck seemed to indicate he did.

‘This is just too too exciting!’ Sandra enthused, one hand fluttering up to her throat as she gazed around with seemingly enthralled eyes.

‘Watch your step,’ Leah warned on sighting her high-heeled sandals. ‘The deck is smooth and can be slippery.’

‘Don’t you worry, sweetie,’ she said smugly. ‘I won’t fall. These shoes and I have gone to the top of Ayer’s Rock together. They’re like part of me.’

Leah could believe it. She’d met other women like Sandra on her travels. They looked all fluff on the surface, but underneath were tough as an old boot. They were survivors, the Sandras of this world. Not like the Leahs, the silly, soft, sentimental Leahs…

Leah gathered all her newly found courage and turned to face Gerard. He rose from where he’d remained sitting at the back of the small craft, his face now the picture of puzzlement.

Did he think he was fooling her with that stupid expression? She knew why he’d come. To get her back! The almighty Gerard Woodward could not be allowed to be seen to be a failure. His marriage could not possibly end in desertion, or, even worse… divorce!

Her temper rose another notch, so much so that when Gerard took a step towards the front of the Zodiac she was ripe and ready for him.

‘Not you,’ she spat at him, jabbing her right index finger towards his chest. ‘You can just stay right there and let Alan take you back to the beach!’

He blinked while Alan simply gaped. Leah was aware of Sandra gasping behind her.

‘Good God, Leah,’ her boss spluttered. ‘What’s got into you?’

‘I’ll tell you what’s got into me. That person there,’ she ground out, pointing straight at Gerard’s cold-blooded heart, ‘isn’t the innocent tourist he’s pretending to be. He happens to be my ex-husband. He isn’t here for a simple cruise. He’s here to make trouble. Believe me when I tell you he’s a sneaky, conniving conman and you can’t believe a word he says!’

Alan gave the sneaky, conniving conman a darkly suspicious glance. ‘Is that true? Are you Leah’s ex-husband?’

‘No,’ came the cool reply.

Leah laughed. ‘Okay, so you want to be literal! Legally, you are still my husband, I guess. But I walked out on our ghastly marriage six months ago, Alan, and haven’t seen this mockery of a husband since that day. In my book, that makes him about as ex as you can get.’

‘I’m not her husband, either,’ the mockery said.

Now it was Leah’s turn to gape.

‘Not my husband!’ she finally snapped. ‘What kind of game are you playing, Gerard? You can’t get a divorce in this country under twelve months, no matter how much money and connections you’ve got. I know. I asked.’

‘I’m not your husband because I’m not Gerard. But I can understand your mistake. I’m Gerard’s twin brother… Gareth.’

Leah was speechless. But not for long.

‘Gerard doesn’t have a twin brother,’ she argued. ‘He doesn’t have a brother at all. Period! He’s an only child.’

‘Is that what he told you?’ came the calm query.

‘Yes!’

‘What else?’

‘What do you mean, what else?’

‘I mean… regarding his family.’

‘He doesn’t have any family. His mother and father died some years back.’

‘Our father did. But our mother is alive and well and living in New York. I spoke to her only yesterday on the telephone.’

Leah’s mouth dropped open.

‘Well, you did say you couldn’t believe a word your husband said,’ Alan pointed out with merciless logic.

‘Yes, but… but…’ Leah’s frantic gaze scanned the man standing before her, raking him from head to toe to see if there was any visible evidence this was not Gerard. Since he was dressed casually, in pale grey shorts and a navy and white striped top, she could see quite a bit of him.

He looked leaner than Gerard, she finally conceded. And not quite as muscly. He looked older, too, with deeper lines etched around his mouth and eyes—eyes which at that moment were looking at her with a most irritating composure, as though he was patiently waiting for the truth of his identity to sink in.

‘I think you owe the man an apology, Leah,’ Alan grated out.

Leah glanced up into the man’s eyes, eyes which were identical to Gerard’s. They met hers levelly and quite blandly. Despite that, something decidedly sexual curled in her stomach.

Gerard had always been able to turn her on, just by looking at her. No way could another man—not even an identical twin—reproduce what Gerard could make her feel. Such a possibility was beyond belief.

‘Never in a month of Sundays,’ she bit out, ‘will I apologise, because I know I’m right. This man is my husband, Gerard Woodward, no matter what clever lies he trots out.’

‘Good grief, Leah!’ Alan exclaimed exasperatedly. ‘Why on earth would he say he’s your husband’s brother if he wasn’t?’

‘I don’t know.’ Unless it was to trick her into letting her guard down with him. Maybe he was plotting to kidnap her, or some equally appalling plan. She would put nothing past Gerard. She knew the real man now, knew what he was capable of.

Where once she’d thought him wonderfully strong and decisive, she now knew he was cold-bloodedly ruthless. His veins ran with ice, not blood. His silver tongue spouted lies with superb ease. My God, when she thought of the thousands of times he’d told her he loved her! Every morning before he left for work. Every time he’d made love to her.

Made love? she thought sneeringly. Such a description was a joke! Gerard had never made love to her. He’d seduced her. Manipulated her. Used her. Love had never come into the equation.

Nausea swirled in her stomach at the renewal of this bitter realisation. All lies. The man was a total lie. This crazy claim about a twin brother was a lie!

Hatred burnt in her eyes as she glared up at him.

‘I’m not him,’ he reiterated, in a voice so unlike Gerard’s that she was momentarily thrown. Suddenly his eyes were not Gerard’s, either. They were soft, and sad. Gerard had a wide range of expressions, but soft and sad was not one of them.

Still… faith in one’s husband, and one’s own judgement, once lost was not easily restored.

Leah hardened her heart against that treacherous weakness of hers to simply believe what she was told.

‘Do you honestly think you can fool me a second time?’ she threw at him in her agony and fury. ‘You’re Gerard and nothing and no one can convince me otherwise. So, I repeat, you either go back to that beach or I will. I’ll swim if I have to!’

Alan sighed his own frustration. ‘For pity’s sake, Leah, you’re paranoid. It’s perfectly clear this chap isn’t your husband. Why won’t you believe him?’

‘It’s all right,’ the man himself said. ‘I fully understand the young lady’s attitude, especially since she is unfortunate enough to be my brother’s wife. Gerard’s not a very nice person. He can be, in fact, a bastard of the first order. But I repeat… Leah, is it?… I am not Gerard. I’m nothing like him, except in looks, which is something I can do little about. I’m sorry if I have upset you. Truly sorry.’

Leah could only stare. An apology?

Apologies were anathema to Gerard. He gave reasons for his actions. Sometimes excuses. But never apologies.

Maybe—just maybe—this person standing before her wasn’t Gerard.

But only maybe. Leah was not about to rush into believing anything any more. Not where her husband was concerned.

Her eyes remained hard upon him. And sceptical.

The man who claimed he wasn’t her husband shrugged. ‘Perhaps you should take me back to the beach,’ he directed towards Alan. ‘I don’t want to spoil the cruise for everyone else.’

‘Certainly not!’ Alan replied. ‘If Leah has a problem with your being on this cruise then she can be the one to go back to the beach. I believe you’re not her ex, even if she doesn’t. No man would make up such a far-fetched lie over some female who obviously doesn’t want a bar of him. It doesn’t make any sense. Pity Leah can’t see that.’

Leah no longer knew what to think, for Alan was right in a way. It didn’t make much sense. She didn’t really believe Gerard was out to kidnap her. Violence was not his bag. He always used oral persuasion to get what he wanted. At worst, he appealed to an opponent’s darker side to achieve his ends, playing up to their greed, or their love of power and position.

She couldn’t see how pretending to be his twin brother could possibly persuade her back to her marriage. What could Gerard hope to achieve with a deception which could only be short-lived, at best? She would eventually find out the truth.

‘Perhaps if I might make a suggestion?’

Leah whirled at the sound of the female voice, flushing as she realised the rest of the party had been standing around, witnessing—and possibly being entertained by—every embarrassing, humiliating word. Sandra was especially wide-eyed, obviously fascinated by the situation.

It was Peggy who had spoken, however. Geoff’s wife. Once everyone’e eyes were upon her, she went on.

‘I used to go to school with identical twins. They were the dead spit of each other, and liked to play awful jokes on everyone, swapping places all the time. But then one of them had an accident in the playground, running into another boy and chipping his front tooth. After that, we could always tell them apart. Perhaps, young man, you have some physical defect that your brother didn’t have? That way this nice young lady could be sure. I can understand her reluctance to trust your word alone, if your brother is such a bad egg.’

Peggy’s suggestion had clearly pole-axed him, his shoulders stiffening with instant tension.

Leah’s stomach turned over when she saw that tell-tale muscle twitch along his jawline. Gerard did that all the time when put into an awkward or unpalatable position. His jaw muscle had twitched just like that when she’d told him she was bored that morning at breakfast, and also at a dinner party one night, when a Brisbane alderman had told him he would never pass a development Gerard had submitted to council.

That alderman had not been voted in at the upcoming election, when a sex scandal had erupted around him.

Her heart began to beat faster. So she’d been right all along. He was Gerard.

Everyone was staring at him now, staring and waiting. An electric tension filled the air.

‘There must be something, man,’ Alan grated out.

‘There is a scar,’ he said, startling Leah, since Gerard did not have a single flaw on his beautiful male body.

‘But, frankly, it’s a bit embarrassing to show, given its position. I’ll give you a look, Alan, and you can tell Leah about it.’

CHAPTER THREE

‘THAT’S not good enough!’ was Leah’s instant reaction, and everyone’s eyes swung round to glare at her.

Their obvious exasperation with her ongoing attitude met with a defiantly lifting chin. ‘Scars can be faked. I want to see it for myself. I think I have that right.’

Alan rolled his eyes, but the object of her scepticism merely shrugged. ‘If you insist.’

‘Geez, Leah,’ Alan muttered. ‘If it was anyone else…’ He shook his head at her. ‘All right. Take him below and set your stubborn mind at rest. But let that be an end to this bloody nonsense! Meanwhile, I’ll get the old girl going. But don’t be too long, madam. I want you up on deck once we’re properly under way, complete with refreshment trays.’

His utter faith in Gareth’s identity unnerved Leah. Was she making a complete fool of herself here?

Probably. But how could she blindly trust what this man was telling her? It had been her blind trust which had landed her in trouble in the first place. No! She had to see this scar for herself, and judge if it was real or not.

Her heart began thudding behind her ribs as she made her way along the deck towards the cabin. She didn’t look over her shoulder to check if she was being followed. She could hear him right behind her. She could even smell him.

He smelt just like Gerard, she realised once they’d stepped into the confinement of the cabin. His body had that same scent which had always clung to Gerard’s skin. Her husband used to shower morning and night, after which he’d spray this very expensive cologne over his body. It was called East Meets West, and had an exotic, musky fragrance.

Leah had grown to love that smell, had learnt to associate it with a naked Gerard sliding into the sheets beside her at night. It had primed her senses for what was to come without his having to say a word, or even touch her body. Every nerve-ending would be instantly on alert, clamouring for release.

No way could she mistake that scent for another. The odds of Gerard’s long-lost twin using the same exclusive and expensive cologne were so remote as to be not worth considering.

This new situation threw Leah totally, because despite her other doubts she’d been half convinced by Alan’s logical arguments. But the cologne was much more conclusive evidence than a twitching jaw muscle. That could have been put down to similar body language. Her own brothers had some identical physical habits and they weren’t even identical twins.

But this… this could not be explained away so easily, neither could her ongoing physical reaction to the man. Why, even now, without looking at him, she felt her skin prickling, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. It wasn’t just his scent. It was his whole being. His sexual aura.

She could feel her own flesh, that finely tuned Gerard-programmed flesh, responding as it always had when he was near. Her pulse-rate picked up its beat. Her skin temperature rose. Her nipples hardened.

To have him witness this unwilling arousal would be the highest of humiliations! Shame forced her to pull herself together, then to turn and try to face him with apparent composure.

Leah experienced a deep satisfaction in her surprising ability to appear in total control. Gerard wasn’t the only one who could pretend, she realised.

It was to be thanked, however, that her colourful shorts and T-shirt were of the modern baggy variety. Anything clinging would have been a disaster.

‘Well?’ she said coolly. ‘Let’s see this scar. Or are you going to admit now, Gerard, that there isn’t one?’

He frowned at her for a moment, before lifting his hands abruptly to the waistband of his shorts. When he pulled open the securing stud and shot down the zipper, Leah gulped.

Just who was calling whose bluff here?

‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you,’ he said.

Leah’s throat thickened when he dropped his shorts to his ankles, lifted his T-shirt, then yanked the narrow band of his white underpants downwards.

Her gasp reverberated with shock. But not the shock she’d been fearing. He didn’t expose himself. Not quite. What he did expose, however, was the largest, nastiest scar she’d ever seen. It zig-zagged its ugly way from his right hip down across his lower abdomen, ending in his groin: a lightning-strike of stark horror against his deeply tanned skin.

It was obviously not faked, or new. New scars were red, or pink, or even purple. Not white.

Gareth was also tanned all over. Gerard had never had the time for such frivolities as an all-over tan.

‘Touch it,’ he ordered curtly. ‘I think you’ll find it’s real enough.’

Leah shrank from doing any such thing.

‘Go on,’ he insisted. ‘I want you to be sure.’

Leah swallowed before reaching out with a tentative trembling hand. It wasn’t revulsion which made her hesitant, but a fear of touching him. Anywhere.

Suddenly it wasn’t the scar which was drawing her eyes but the rest of him, especially that which was being ineffectually contained by his briefs. Clearly he was an impressively equipped man, as impressive as his brother. But of course he would be, wouldn’t he? They were identical twins.

Leah’s gaze skittered back to the scar, her fingertip quivering as it made tentative contact with the puckered skin. When he flinched at her touch her hand immediately dropped away, her eyes jerking up to his.

‘H… how did it happen?’ she asked, appalled by her breathless state, plus the wild hammering of her heart.

‘A car accident some time back,’ came the curt reply. He bent abruptly and dragged his shorts back up to his waist. ‘A truck smashed into me at an intersection.’

Leah struggled with her feelings. Clearly the man standing before her wasn’t Gerard, yet he could still stir her sexually. Which said what of her feelings for her husband? Not much except that they must be very superficial, and shallow. Easily transferred from one twin to another.

She shook her head in confusion. That didn’t feel right, didn’t feel right at all. She’d loved Gerard. She still loved him. She was sure of it.

‘You still don’t believe me?’

She frowned up at her husband’s twin brother, and found excuses for his being able to turn her on. He did carry identical genes to Gerard, after all. When she looked at him, her brain automatically registered her husband’s face and body. It didn’t mean anything. It was simply an instinctive response which would fade in a few minutes.

‘No, I do believe you. It’s just hard, that’s all. I had no idea Gerard had a brother, let alone a twin. I’m still a bit shell-shocked. You have no idea how much you look like him.’

‘Oh, yes, I have,’ he said ruefully as he snapped the waistband of his shorts shut and pulled his T-shirt back down. ‘But looks are only skin-deep, Leah. Don’t judge me on them.’

‘I… I’ll try not to,’ she said, though she could not help feasting her eyes on his face and body. Slightly thinner than Gerard he might be, but he was still extremely attractive to her.

‘That’s good, because I’d like to speak to you further at some later date. I have to admit to being more than curious about you and my brother. For now, however, perhaps you’d better get back to doing your job before your boss loses his cool.’

All of a sudden the man himself popped his head through the cabin door, his long blond hair swinging around his bare shoulders. ‘You two sorted everything out?’

‘Perfectly,’ Gareth answered for them both, in the same decisive way Gerard had when dealing with people.

Leah groaned silently. She supposed there were going to be a lot of disturbing similarities about the two brothers. She was as curious about Gareth as he was about her, but the thought of spending more time with him sent her into a spin.

‘In that case, shake a leg with the food and drinks, Leah,’ Alan advised brusquely. ‘Perhaps Gareth can help you.’

‘Yes, I’d like that,’ he agreed, before Leah could say a word. ‘As long as my newly found sister-in-law doesn’t mind,’ he added, a sudden smile quite blowing Leah away. Smiling, he was as devastatingly handsome and charming as Gerard had been.

‘She won’t, if she knows what’s good for her,’ Alan grated out before abruptly disappearing.

‘You don’t mind, do you?’ Gareth asked, his eyes searching hers.

‘No. Not really. It’s just that…’

‘That what?’

That I can’t look at you without wanting to touch you again, came the awful secret admission. Without wanting you…

Leah tried to keep the shock from showing on her face.

It was only natural, she reasoned in desperation. He looked so much like Gerard. Smelt like him. Spoke like him. It was perfectly but perversely natural that her body, long starved of sexual satisfaction, would crave it from this man who so resembled the man she loved.

But, dear God, it was difficult to cope with.

‘I… I get upset when I look at you,’ she said quite truthfully.

His blue eyes clouded. ‘You hate Gerard that much?’

‘Yes,’ she said. It was the truth too. She loved him and hated him.

‘I see,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I’m sorry. The last thing I want is to upset you. But, other than my jumping overboard, I’m afraid you’re condemned to look at me occasionally. Under those circumstances, it’s better I help you serve, don’t you think? That way I’ll be standing beside you and not in front of you.’

She shook her head, a small wry smile playing on her lips. ‘I see you and your brother are more alike than in looks alone. You both have the gift of the gab. Gerard could talk his way out of the gallows, if needs be.’

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