Summer Sins

She must think of Armand instead—of the miracle he had wrought, and all that was happening now in America. She longed to phone him—but she had promised to wait for news.

Please let it be good news.

He would phone her, he had promised, when there was something to tell—but until then she must be patient. He would take care of everything and take care especially of—

The piercing shrill of the doorbell shattered her thoughts in that direction.

Who on earth?

Anxiety bit at her suddenly. Surely it was not Armand? It couldn’t be—it mustn’t be.

The doorbell rang again. Urgent and imperative. On suddenly trembling legs she hurried to the door and unhooked the entryphone. There was no way she was opening the front door to the street without checking first to find out who was there.

‘Hello?’ She made her voice sound brisk and businesslike. Not like a home alone female.

The voice at the other end was distorted, but as it penetrated her ear, faintness drummed through her.

It was Xavier Lauran.

CHAPTER EIGHT

THERE WAS SILENCE, complete silence, through the rusting grille of the entryphone system. Xavier stood, every muscle tensed.

Emotion tore at him.

Had that garbled message his PA

had relayed to him with a deadpan face really been what the few incoherent words implied? The fractured phrases were burned in his mind.

Things have changed … completely … at my end. Something very unexpected … My former commitments are … finished. I’m no longer … So, if he wanted …

If the words were true it could mean only one thing.

She and Armand were finished.

It was blunt, it was brutal—but if, if it really were true, then—

One thought and one alone burned in his mind. I can have her.

Triumph surged in him. If his brother no longer had a claim on her, then those damning words of hers—I can’t—no longer mattered. Were no longer true.

If.

So small a word, so much hanging on it.

It must be true. Why else would she have phoned?

He needed to know. Right now. Frustration stabbed at him again, poisonously mixing with hope.

Why wouldn’t she open the damn door?

As if he’d spoken the words aloud, there was a sudden ping from the door and the lock yielded. He pushed it open instantly and strode inside. There was a narrow corridor, lit only by a bare bulb hanging from the ceiling. Stairs led away up from the central area. Everything looked bleak and bare. But he had eyes for none of it—only for the woman standing in the doorway of the ground-floor flat, clinging on to the doorjamb.

He went to her. He caught her to him. Dropped his mouth to hers.

His kiss was urgent, possessive, putting his brand on her. She collapsed against him, boneless. Triumph surged in him. He let her go, slipping his hands either side of her face, tilting it up to him. Her eyes were huge.

‘Why did you phone me?’