The Complete Red-Hot And Historical Collection. Kelly Hunter

THE FEELING returned to her paralysed limbs, Mari flew on an adrenaline rush high up the stairs two at a time, her heart thumping against her rib cage.

      By the time she reached the bedroom where her clothes were laid out, ready, she had come back down to earth. He had waited to say this until after he knew about the baby—was that significant?

      And after all, what had he said— Lonely...? It might just mean he was at a loose end.

      Was she seeing and hearing what she wanted to?

      Fingers pressed to her temple, she closed her eyes and willed the inner dialogue to stop before her head exploded, which was not a good look for the perfect hostess.

      Her eyes shot wide as she pushed up the cuff of her sweater to see the time.

      ‘Oh, God!’

      She stripped off her clothes as she walked across the room. She entered the bathroom, where she proceeded to chuck half a bottle of some expensive bath oil in the bathtub and turned on the taps full. While the tub filled she piled her hair on top of her head, skewering in the pins carelessly before lowering herself into the water.

      By the time she had stepped into the black number that managed to be both classy and extremely sexy, Mari had managed to achieve a degree of composure, even if it was skin-deep. Underneath she was so wound up she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to wait for him to explain what the hell he had meant. She had a horrible feeling that the moment she saw him she was going to blurt out something terminally stupid like ‘I love you!’

      Well, he’d either run, laugh in her face or...anything was better than this terrible uncertainty.

      * * *

      Seb took the box out of his pocket. It should have been a ring, he thought, snapping it open to glance down at the string of sapphires that had caught his eye as he passed a shop. He could see them around her lovely neck, the colour a tribute to her eyes. He slid the box back into his pocket and pushed his head into the big wing-back chair that faced the fireplace.

      Some inner sixth sense made him glance up just as a figure appeared outside the open French doors. The overalls the man was wearing were emblazoned with the name of the catering company who had been brought in to bolster his own kitchen staff.

      The obvious assumption would be that he had lost his way, but his furtive manner told another story. As Seb made these observations, the man looked over his shoulder to check there was no one to see him before he stepped inside the room.

      ‘Very nice,’ he said softly as he looked around the book-lined room.

      Interesting, Seb decided—the mirror was angled in a way that made it possible for him to watch the man without the intruder being aware of his presence in the room.

      The figure in the overalls was moving with increasing confidence now; he even began to whistle a slightly off-key tune through his teeth as he walked around the room picking up objects, turning them over like an expert before replacing them or, in one or two instances—the man definitely had an eye or, as his grandmother would have put it, he knew the cost of everything and the value of nothing—putting them in his pocket.

      He spotted the cupboard containing Seb’s grandfather’s collection of Georgian silver, smiling broadly as he did so, and Seb had his first full-face look at the guy.

      A shaft of startled recognition turned Seb’s curiosity into something far more personal—something cold, very cold. Ironically at one point the man had picked up the file that told Seb all he needed to know about his intruder and a lot he didn’t want to know about George Laxton...Francis...Richie...Griffiths, a small sample of the aliases that this moderately successful conman went by.

      The contempt etched on Seb’s face gave way to alarm; his eyes went to the door that Mari could walk through at any moment.

      That was one introduction he didn’t want to make.

      If ever he felt a twang of conscience about his decision to keep her in the dark, he reminded himself that if Mari had wanted to know her parentage she would have put the wheels in motion herself, so what she didn’t know... It would hurt her.

      When he’d decided originally to look into her parentage he had debated the ethics of it, but had gone ahead despite his misgivings, tempted ultimately by the idea of producing the loving mother he knew Mari secretly longed for.

      When he’d got the information back it had turned out to be no fairy-tale ending: her mother had died from an accidental overdose after she had abandoned her children.

      But Amanda was a victim, too, in a way. Her married lover, Mari’s father, had served time for bigamy, and was the true villain of the story. So what was that villain doing here in his home?

      It was a question for another time. Right now, the priority was to make sure that his and Mari’s paths did not cross.

      He was halfway to his feet, unnoticed by the figure, who was now efficiently emptying the contents of the silver cabinet into his capacious pockets, when the door did open.

      Pausing, Seb sank back down into his concealment. It was hard to watch and wait, but if he wanted this man out of Mari’s life forever it would be useful to have a bargaining chip. A pocket full of valuables and the threat of a prison term could be that lever.

      * * *

      Mari paused outside the door. Should she knock? No, she decided, boldly pushing it open, that would be too ‘schoolgirl at the headmaster’s office’.

      ‘Oh!’

      It was a massive anticlimax—the library was not empty, as a middle-aged man, one of the caterers, was there, but of Seb there was no sign.

      The last thing she wanted to do was hang around, as she wanted to find Seb, but politeness made her linger. As she did the oddness of this man’s presence struck her. Why was he here, in the room that was Seb’s private sanctum?

      The man, who was staring at her a little too intently for comfort, showed no sign of filling in the blanks without a push.

      ‘Hello, can I help you...?’ She stopped, her smooth brow furrowing as she scanned the stranger’s face. She was pretty sure she had never met him but...

      ‘Have we met already? You look a little familiar...’ The likeness almost in her grasp, it slipped away.

      The man grinned, and for no reason at all a frisson of unease slid down Mari’s spine. Struggling against a growing antipathy, she smiled weakly back, but also took a cautious step back towards the door.

      ‘Now, that is nice—early Georgian. A real collector’s item.’

      To Mari’s utter amazement, without even trying to hide what he was doing, the man slipped the miniature he had held out to admire into a pocket in his overalls, one that she noticed was already bulging...with other stolen items? The bold thief was either mad or... Actually he was obviously mad, but not, she hoped, violent.

      ‘That’s stealing. Put it back immediately and we’ll forget all about it!’

      ‘Stealing...?’ The man rubbed his hand along the goatee he sported. ‘Now, me, I like to call it a redistribution of wealth.’ He bared his yellowy teeth in a cold smile. ‘I’d know you anywhere, darling—you’re the living spit of your mum.’

      Mari, who had moved towards the door to call for help, froze; the colour drained from her face as she spun back. She could hear the pounding of her heart in her ears. It sounded like the waves crashing on a distant seashore. ‘You know my m...mother?’

      ‘Knew. Amanda is no longer with us, sadly.’

      ‘She’s dead.’ Her thoughts whirled, an unrelenting flow of question marks running through her head.

      Was he telling the truth? What reason did he have to lie? ‘My mother was called Amanda?’

      ‘You’re a lot bigger than her. She was a tiny little thing, except of course