‘Your brother loved m-my … me,’ she corrected herself hurriedly. ‘He …’
‘—Desired your body,’ she was told flatly, ‘and in his innocence mistook such desire for a far different emotion—a fact which you used to your advantage, using his lust for you to force him …’
‘Just a moment!’ she inserted, with a sudden resurgence of her normal coolness. ‘If you are implying that Jorge was forced into …’
‘Oh, I am aware that there was no question of “force” as such,’ the icy voice agreed. ‘Bemused, dazzled, dragged out of his depth—these would perhaps be better descriptions. You are an attractive woman,’ he told her, openly assessing the shape of her body beneath the thin silk, ‘not perhaps in Jorge’s usual style, but no matter … Of course I realise why you are here. I suppose you thought that a personal appearance might be just the goad he needed. Absence makes the heart grow fonder—of someone else, is that it?’
Matters had gone far enough. There was a limit to the amount of time she intended to simply stand there and allow him to insult her.
‘Before we go any further, I ought to tell you that I have no desire at all to become engaged to your brother,’ Jessica told him truthfully, ‘In fact …’
‘Oh, come, you cannot expect me to believe that?’ he said softly. ‘Perhaps I should refresh your memory. I have here your last letter to Jorge. He brought it to me in a very troubled frame of mind. It seems that while he enjoyed your … company, the constant pressure you put on him to announce your engagement has panicked him into confiding in me.’
‘You having considerable experience of ridding yourself of unwanted women, I suppose?’ Jessica supplied sweetly. ‘One of the penalties of being wealthy!’
The dark flush of colour beneath his skin brought her a fierce sense of satisfaction. He hadn’t liked her implication that women would only find him attractive for his wealth, and she knew it wasn’t true. He was too intensely male for that. She found herself wondering if he was married, and then squashed the thought as being of no concern to her.
‘You must accept that Jorge no longer wishes to have anything to do with you,’ she was told implacably, ‘and even if he did, I would do everything in my power to dissuade him from marrying a woman like you. What attracted you to him the most? Or can I guess?’
‘If you did you’d be wrong,’ Jessica told him in a clipped voice. ‘As I’ve already said, I have no desire to marry your brother.’
‘No?’ With a swift movement he reached inside his jacket and removed a folded piece of paper. ‘Read this—perhaps it will help you remember,’ he said contemptuously.
Unwillingly Jessica took the letter, her fingertips brushing him as she did, strange quivers of sensation running up her arm as she recoiled from the brief contact.
Matters had gone far enough. She would have to tell him the truth. She opened the letter, and her heart dropped. She had barely done more than read the first couple of lines, skimming quickly over them, but it was enough to bring a burning colour to her face. Isabel and Jorge had been lovers—that much was obvious; as was Isabel’s impassioned plea for Jorge to marry her. What on earth had possessed her cousin to write a letter like this? Jessica felt sick at the thought of her aunt and uncle reading it; and what about John? Why on earth hadn’t Isabel warned her? And why had she been so convinced that Jorge intended to come to England? To judge from his brother, the young Spaniard wanted to escape from the relationship just as much as Isabel herself.
‘Edifying, is it not?’ her persecutor drawled insultingly. ‘And I understand from Jorge—although he was reluctant to admit it—that he was far from being your first lover.’
Jessica’s eyes widened, mirroring her shock. Was it true?
‘So, obviously realising that your letter had failed, you decided to come in person. Why, I wonder? It must surely be obvious to you by now that Jorge does not wish to marry you.’
What on earth had Isabel got her into?
For a moment she contemplated telling the truth, but to do so meant betraying her cousin. She had protected Isabel for too long to stop now.
‘Perhaps, failing marriage, you had something else in mind?’ The soft suggestion held a trace of bitter contempt. ‘I know Jorge has told you of the marriage his family had hoped might take place between him and the daughter of a close friend of ours—a marriage, I might add, which would stand a far greater chance of success than the one you proposed. Perhaps you hoped to turn this fact to your advantage. Barbara’s family are very old-fashioned. They would be intolerant of any folly on Jorge’s part.’
Jessica went white, reaching out blindly to grasp the back of a chair for support as the meaning of his words sank in.
‘You thought I’d use blackmail!’ she whispered disbelievingly. ‘You thought I came here to … to …’
‘Very affecting,’ the cool voice mocked. ‘But I am not Jorge, to be easily impressed by a pair of huge amber eyes that plead with me to believe in an innocence I know they cannot possess. You are several years older than my brother; you used his inexperience and calf love for you to further your own ends. You must have known that his family would never tolerate such an alliance—so, Miss James, let us get down to business, shall we?’
‘If by business you mean you’ll pay me to forget any claims I might have on your brother, you’re wasting your time!’ Jessica told him furiously, too angry to care about the danger emanating from him as she pushed bitterly past him, blinking away tears of rage as she wrestled with the huge front door. She could hear him behind her, and the terrible fear that he would never allow her to leave made the blood pound in her head, her fingers trembling as she tugged at the door.
He swore harshly and she felt his hand on her shoulder, sobbing with relief as the door yielded and she half stumbled into the street. Her taxi was waiting and she flung herself into it without a backward glance, not caring what conclusions her driver might be drawing. The first thing she intended to do when she got back to the hotel was to put a call through to her cousin and find out exactly what was going on.
Fortunately, it was her aunt and uncle’s bridge night, and Isabel answered the phone, her pleasure turning to petulance as she recognised the anger in Jessica’s voice.
‘You saw Sebastian?’ she exclaimed nervously. ‘Oh, no, Jess, what did he say?’
She had a good mind to tell her, Jessica thought wrathfully. So Sebastian was his name; it suited him somehow.
‘Nothing flattering,’ she told Isabel grimly. ‘In fact he seemed to think I was you. Oh, Belle,’ she exclaimed as the scene in the vast and opulent drawing room flashed quickly through her mind, ‘you should have warned me, told me the truth. Why on earth did you want me to come here? Sebastian told me that Jorge had no desire to become engaged to you, he even showed me your letter.’
She knew from the sudden catch in her breath that Isabel hadn’t expected that, and yet true to form her cousin, even now, seemed to be trying to turn the situation to her own advantage.
‘You didn’t tell him he was wrong, did you?’ she asked quickly, ‘about us, I mean,