Ryan's Revenge. Lee Wilkinson

      ‘It’s not something I like to talk about.’

      He pulled a face at her tone. ‘So how much did you have to tell him in the end, to get him to see me in your place?’

      ‘I just said you were someone I’d once known and didn’t want to meet again.’

      ‘How very understated and cold-blooded.’

      ‘It happens to be the truth.’

      She saw his face grow taut with anger, before a shutter came down leaving an expressionless mask.

      ‘I would have said I was rather more than someone you’d once known even if you’re using the word known in its biblical sense.’

      She moved restlessly, desperate to get away, but knowing she stood no chance until he was willing to let her go.

      ‘That’s all in the past,’ she said tightly. ‘Over and done with.’

      ‘Hardly.’

      ‘It’s over and done with as far as I’m concerned.’

      He shook his head. ‘That’s where you’re wrong. I want you back.’

      ‘What?’

      Though he had sworn, ‘I’ll never let you go,’ the fact that she had gone, had run away and left him, should surely have hurt his pride to the point where he wouldn’t want her back under any circumstances?

      ‘I want you back,’ he repeated flatly.

      Stammering in her agitation, she cried, ‘I’ll never c-come back to you.’

      ‘Never is a long time,’ he said lightly.

      ‘I mean it, Ryan. There’s nothing you can do or say that will make me change my mind.’

      ‘I don’t think you should bet on it.’ His little crooked smile made her blood run cold.

      ‘Please, Ryan…’ She found she was begging. ‘I’ve made a new life for myself and I just want to be left to enjoy it.’

      ‘You once told me you disliked being on your own.’

      ‘I’m not on my own.’ The words were defiant, meant to make an impression.

      ‘Let’s get this straight, we are talking about merely sharing accommodation?’

      ‘I wasn’t,’ she said boldly. If he believed she was seriously involved with someone else he might leave her alone; she wouldn’t let herself be hurt again.

      He froze into stillness, before asking quietly, ‘So, who are you sleeping with?’

      ‘It’s none of your business.’

      ‘I’m making it my business.’ Those indigo eyes pinning her, he repeated, ‘Who?’

      ‘Charles.’

      Ryan laughed incredulously. ‘That middle-aged wimp?’

      ‘Don’t you dare call Charles a wimp. He’s nothing of the kind. He’s sweet and sensitive, and I owe him a big debt of gratitude. He gave me a job and a home when I was desperate.’

      ‘I’m quite aware that you share his house—my detective has followed the pair of you home often enough—but knowing you as I do, I hesitate to believe that gratitude is enough to get you into his bed.’

      ‘It isn’t just gratitude. I happen to love him. Passionately,’ she added for good measure.

      Ryan’s mocking smile told her he didn’t believe a word of it. ‘So, when did you two become lovers?’

      ‘Ages ago.’

      ‘Then, how is it you have separate bedrooms?’

      ‘What makes you think we have separate bedrooms?’

      ‘I don’t think. I know.’

      ‘How could you possibly know a thing like that?’ she scoffed.

      ‘With a bit of encouragement, the domestic help can be an excellent source of information. Mrs Crabtree, in particular, enjoys a good gossip.’

      Virginia’s heart sank. Mrs Crabtree, a cheerful, garrulous woman, came in several times a week to clean and tidy.

      Seeing nothing else for it, she admitted, ‘All right, so we have separate bedrooms. Charles is conventional enough to want to keep up appearances.’

      ‘That’s not surprising. He’s old enough to be your father.’

      ‘He’s nothing of the kind.’

      ‘Rubbish! He must be forty-five if he’s a day.’

      ‘Charles is forty-three. In any case, age has nothing to do with it. He’s a wonderful lover.’

      Even as she spoke she felt a stab of conscience. It was hardly fair to Charles to use him in this way; perhaps she should just tell Ryan the truth… But she’d gone much too far to back down now.

      Recklessly, she added, ‘And he’s not hidebound enough to believe that lovemaking should only take place in bed.’

      A dangerous light in his eyes, Ryan said, ‘I hope for everyone’s sake that you’re lying.’

      ‘Did you seriously expect me to be living like a nun?’

      ‘You were when I met you.’

      ‘In those days I was abysmally naive and innocent. But you taught me a lot, and it’s much more difficult to give up a known pleasure.’

      Watching him weighing up her words, wondering…she struck at his ego, ‘Or did you think you were the only man who could turn me on?’

      ‘I certainly didn’t think Raynor was your type.’

      ‘That just shows how wrong you can be. Charles and I are very good together. He wants to marry me.’

      A dark flush appeared along Ryan’s high cheekbones. ‘Over my dead body. I’ve no intention of letting anyone else have you.’

      Rattled, she found herself catching at straws. ‘But you said yourself how much I’ve changed. I’m not even pretty any longer.’

      ‘No, you’re not merely pretty. Now you have the kind of poignant beauty that’s haunting.’

      She half shook her head. ‘Even it that were true, the world’s full of beautiful women.’

      One in particular.

      ‘In the past I’ve had my share of beautiful women. But I find that, after you, none of them will do. It’s you I want in my bed and in my life.’

      ‘I don’t understand why,’ she cried desperately.

      His voice cold as steel, he said, ‘For one thing, there’s a score to settle. You owe me.’

      CHAPTER TWO

      WHITE to the lips, she whispered, ‘A score to settle?’

      ‘Why should that surprise you? You must have known that leaving me as you did would make me look a complete and utter fool?’

      She couldn’t even deny it. Part of her had wanted to pay him back. Wanted to wound him as much as he’d wounded her. Wanted to destroy his world, as he’d destroyed hers.

      Afraid that he might read it in her eyes, she looked away, watching a small boy in a blue T-shirt and red shorts run towards the lake. He was clutching a shining new toy yacht, obviously a birthday present, and a stick.

      As he knelt on the low parapet to launch the vessel into the water, his mother, who was wheeling a baby in a pushchair, called, ‘Be careful, Thomas. Don’t fall in. The water’s deep.’

      When—his will was proving stronger than