Master Of El Corazon. Sandra Marton

she said stiffly.

      His gaze was slow and insolent as it skimmed her tangled hair and flushed face, then dropped lower. Her flush deepened as she realised her robe was still hanging open, and she grasped the lapels quickly and drew them tightly together. He looked away from her, his glance moving around the room, and Arden’s eyes followed his, taking in, as he was, the tangled bedclothes, her clothing lying carelessly across the chair. When his nostrils flared, hers did, too, and filled with the heavy aroma of gin.

      ‘What would you call it, señorita?’ he asked, his face expressionless.

      Arden grabbed her sash and knotted it tightly at her waist. ‘My God,’ she said, ‘anyone with half a brain can see what—’

      ‘An excellent question, sir.’ Arden and the stranger both turned and looked at Edgar Lithgow. He was standing beside the bed, his thin mouth narrowed with disgust, his hair smoothed down across his head, his shirt tucked neatly into his trousers, looking as out of place as a robed jurist in a prison cell. ‘Perhaps she’ll explain this little scene to us both.’

      Arden stared at him. ‘What are you talking about?’ she said angrily.

      Lithgow’s eyes never left the other man’s face. ‘This young woman—Miss Miller—has been my secretary for months now, and in all that time I’ve chosen to ignore the hints she’s given me as to her baser nature.’

      ‘What?’ Arden slammed her hands on to her hips. ‘What are you saying, you—you—?’

      ‘I’m a family man, sir, a devoted husband and father, a leader in my church and community.’ Lithgow shook his head. ‘Perhaps that’s why I gave Miss Miller the benefit of the doubt, why I pretended not to notice the way she brushed against me whenever she could. But tonight, when she invited me to her room—’

      ‘It’s a lie! I never—’

      ‘We had a drink together,’ Lithgow said. He sighed. ‘More than one, to be honest. And I weakened, heaven forgive me, and she—she—’

      ‘You bastard!’ Arden started towards him, but the stranger stopped her, reaching out and catching her by the arm. ‘He’s lying,’ she said furiously. ‘I never asked him here, and I certainly never offered him a drink.’ She swung towards Lithgow, her eyes flashing. ‘You—you forced yourself on me, you pig!’

      The stranger let go of her, laughed softly, and leaned back against the door, his hands shoved lazily into his pockets. He had shaved, Arden noticed in some still-logical part of her mind, and changed from his worn denims to a pair of white duck trousers and a pale blue shirt.

      ‘A modern-day version of Rashomon,’ he said. ‘The Japanese play—do you know it? A woman claims rape, a man claims seduction, and it’s up to the audience to determine the truth.’

      Colour leaped into Arden’s cheeks again. ‘I was not raped.’

      ‘Indeed she was not,’ Lithgow said.

      The man nodded. ‘At least you agree on that. As for me, I don’t know what happened here tonight, but—’

      ‘No,’ Arden snapped, ‘you certainly do not, but I can tell you one thing for certain. This man—’

      ‘This man,’ he said with a little smile, ‘is the reason you were too busy to join me this evening, señ

orita.’ His gaze went to Lithgow, sliding over the pale face, the fine English wool suit, the gold Rolex winking from beneath a hand-tailored cuff. ‘And I can easily see why he would be more to your liking.’

      Arden flushed darkly. ‘I’ve no idea what that’s supposed to mean.’

      ‘Haven’t you?’

      Arden took a deep breath. ‘All right,’ she said, ‘all right, this is enough. I am not going to stand here, in my own bedroom, and—and defend myself against a pack of lies!’

      Lithgow sank down on the edge of the bed, his shoulders slumped, the very portrait of despair. ‘I’m so upset,’ he whispered. ‘Nothing like this has ever happened to me before. I should have known. She asked me to stop by and accompany her to the party—’

      ‘I never did,’ Arden said furiously. She spun towards the stranger. ‘Dammit, do I look as if I’m going to a party?’

      The green eyes narrowed and swept over her again, and even though her robe was tightly closed Aden felt as if that gaze were stripping her naked. After a moment, his eyes met hers and a muscle knotted in his cheek.

      ‘That depends on what kind of party you mean.’

      Arden sprang forward, her hand upraised, but he caught it easily, his fingers curling around her wrist, pressing down against the nerves that lay in the soft underside so that she gasped with pain.

      ‘You have already miscalculated in your dealings with one man tonight, señorita. I urge you not to make the same mistake with another.’

      ‘You,’ she hissed, ‘you—’

      The bed creaked as Lithgow rose to his feet. He walked forward slowly, then he cleared his throat.

      ‘Señor,’ he said, ‘have you a family? If you do, you will understand my concern for those nearest and dearest to me.’

      The stranger gave a little laugh. ‘Without question, señor.’

      Arden blew out her breath. ‘I don’t believe this,’ she said. ‘Has the world gone crazy? Isn’t anyone concerned about me? I’m the one who needs protecting; I’m the one who was—’

      ‘I should never have let this—this Jezebel lure me to her room to—to try and destroy me.’

      ‘He’s lying,’ Arden said angrily. “Don’t you hear it in his voice? Can’t you see it in his face?’

      The stranger didn’t even look at her. ‘If you’re asking me to be discreet—’

      ‘Yes. Exactly. As one man to another—’

      ‘You have my word on it, señor.’ He turned slowly towards Arden. ‘Unless, of course, the señorita is correct, and you are lying.’ Lithgow began a sputtering protest, but the stranger silenced him with a look. He turned to Arden, who gave him a hesitant smile.

      ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I kept hoping he couldn’t take you in, but I wasn’t—’

      “There would be no point in my pledging my silence, if that is the case,’ he said softly, his eyes locked with hers, ‘since the lady will wish to call the police and press charges. Isn’t that right, señorita?’

      Arden ran her tongue over her lips. ‘The police?’

      ‘Of course. If what you say of tonight’s events is true, you will call them and I will tell them what I saw when I first entered the room, you and this gentleman lying in each other’s arms, on that bed.’

      ‘We weren’t in each other’s arms,’ she said, her face white. ‘I mean, we were, but only because—because he was trying to force me to—to—’

      ‘Yes, so you’ve said.’ He smiled, and Arden thought it was the coldest excuse for a smile she had ever seen. ‘The question is, do you wish to make that same statement to the authorities?’

      ‘Yes. Of course. I—I—’

      She fell silent. She would not only be making it to the authorities, she thought frantically, she would be making it to her employers also, and who would they believe, her—or one of their own?

      ‘Well?’

      Arden looked up. The man was watching her, all attempts at pleasantry gone from his face. ‘What will it be, Senorita Miller? Shall I accept your version of Rashomon, or his?’

      Her gaze flew