Liz Fielding - His Little Girl

‘No, Mrs Marriott,’ he said, taking his hand carefully from his jacket pocket and pulling the lining out with it, to show her that it was quite empty. ‘Nothing at all.’ The truth of the matter was that Gannon, his ribs giving him hell, his shoulder protesting at the weight of Sophie as she slumped against him, felt incapable of raising a sweat on a nervous fly. And he had no wish to frighten her; what he wanted was her help. ‘Besides, if I hurt you, Richard would probably hunt me down and kill me with his bare hands.’

Dora didn’t anticipate raising that kind of passion in Richard for herself, but she had a pretty good idea of what he would do to anyone who even considered hurting her sister. And, because her intruder had picked up the policeman’s mistake, he was now under the impression that she was Richard’s wife. Well, if that impression was going to keep her safe, she wasn’t about to disabuse him.

‘Only probably, you think?’

He met her gaze head on, for a moment meeting her challenge. Then there was the tiniest contraction of lines fanning out from his eyes, softening his face in an oddly seductive smile that made her catch at her breath. ‘No, not probably, Mrs Marriott. Without question.’ And his voice, back to silken velvet, did nothing to help.

She swallowed hard. ‘I’m glad you realise that,’ she said, with commendable briskness under the circumstances. ‘Now, if you’re staying, hadn’t you better give Sophie her milk?’ He glanced down at Sophie, but she had finally fallen asleep across his shoulder and Dora’s heart went out to the little girl. ‘Poor soul. Look, why don’t you take her upstairs and tuck her up in my bed? I’ll bring up the milk. In case she wakes,’ she added.

His smile deepened slightly. ‘Whilst I admire your initiative and appreciate your kindness, I think we’ll revert to me giving the orders and you carrying them out. I feel safer that way.’ He eased Sophie gently away from his shoulder, his expression tender as he placed the child into Dora’s arms, brushed a strand of hair back from her face. She didn’t stir. Then he looked up and caught Dora’s thoughtful expression. ‘You might have sent the police about their business, but I’m sure you must have plans to call for reinforcements of some kind. Plans that involve using a telephone?’

Dora hadn’t given the telephone a thought—not that she’d had an opportunity to use it even if she had. Well, he might have wildly overestimated her ability to think on her feet, but it wasn’t too late to start doing just that. Richard’s sister lived a couple of miles away with her husband. They would know exactly what to do in a situation like this. ‘Perhaps I have,’ she said, rewarding him with a smile for such cleverness. ‘I suppose you’ll want to disconnect it?’

He considered the matter. He would need a telephone if he was going to sort out Sophie’s papers, make things right with the authorities, but he couldn’t do that tonight, and this woman was too much of an unknown quantity to risk leaving it connected. ‘I suppose I will.’

‘It’s in the living room,’ she informed him, as he poured the warm milk into a mug. ‘Please try not to make a mess of the wall when you yank it out. It’s only just been decorated.’

The last thing he wanted to do was yank it out of the wall. ‘Find me a screwdriver and I’ll reconnect it before I leave,’ he promised. ‘Are there any extensions upstairs?’

‘None. Although I’m sure you’ll insist on checking for yourself.’

‘Oh, yes, I’ll check.’ Gannon’s grin was unexpected, deepening the lines carved into his cheeks, sparking his warm brown eyes with golden flecks of light, lifting one corner of his mouth as if self-mockery was second nature to him. ‘Although I can understand Richard’s unwillingness to install a telephone in the bedroom. If you were my wife I wouldn’t have a telephone within twenty miles of the place.’

Dora, usually capable of putting down a flirtatious male at thirty paces, with one hand tied behind her back, for a moment floundered helplessly while her brain scrambled to formulate an appropriate response. But nothing had prepared her for an encounter with a man like Gannon. There was a predatory edge to him that stirred the tiny hairs on the nape of her neck, warning her that he would do anything to get what he wanted. And a little part of her that thought she might rather like it

‘How fortunate that I’m not,’ she replied, as coldly as she could. Somehow it didn’t sound cold, just a little breathless. Not very convincing. She tried again. ‘Just think how inconvenient it would be not to have a telephone.’

‘I’d consider it worth any amount of inconvenience to have you all to myself, Mrs Marriott. Without interruption.’

Now that was convincing. The man could give lessons in the subject. It was a long time since anyone had managed to bring Dora to blushing point, but the heat tingling along her cheekbones was unmistakable. John Gannon might not have shaved for two days, but somehow, when he smiled, it was very easy to forget that fact.

She was sure now that he had no intention of hurting her. But he was still a dangerous man.

And every time he called her Mrs Marriott, and she accepted the name, she was taking a convenient misunderstanding and turning it into a lie. ‘Please don’t call me that,’ she instructed.

His brows rose slightly at her abruptness. ‘Why not? If it’s your name?’

She neither confirmed nor denied it. ‘Such formality seems a little out of place, don’t you think? My name is Pandora. Most people just call me Dora.’

‘I’m not most people.’

‘No,’ she agreed. ‘Most people don’t break in in the middle of the night and frighten innocent women out of their wits.’

‘I’d say that it was debatable who frightened who the most. But perhaps, under the circumstances, we should compromise on Pandora. It wouldn’t do to get too familiar.’

‘Under what circumstances?’

‘Under the circumstances that you’re married to my very good friend Richard Marriott,’ he said. ‘Although for some reason you don’t appear to be wearing a wedding ring.’

Definitely dangerous. ‘Contrary to popular belief, it’s not compulsory,’ she said. She knew that wouldn’t satisfy him, but she didn’t give him a chance to say so. ‘I don’t remember seeing you at the wedding?’ Because he hadn’t been there. While she and Poppy bore a strong family resemblance, her sister oozed glamour and poise from every pore. He would never have confused the two of them. ‘Oh, no, of course you couldn’t have been there. You didn’t know Richard had remarried.’

‘Big do, was it?’

‘Pretty big.’ It had been enormous. Richard’s status as minor aristocracy guaranteed media interest, and as for Poppy... Well anything that Poppy did made the news. But despite the crush she knew that Gannon hadn’t been part of it. She wouldn’t have forgotten anything as dangerous on two legs as John Gannon. She half turned. ‘Why didn’t he invite you?’

‘I’ve been abroad for quite a while. Out of touch. When, exactly, was the happy event?’

‘At Christmas.’

‘At Christmas? Richard must have been seriously good all year if he found you beneath his tree. I really must try a lot harder.’

‘Richard doesn’t have to try, Mr Gannon. It comes naturally to him.’

Mouth, mouth, mouth. It would get her into trouble if she didn’t watch out.

But John Gannon didn’t appear to take offence, although it was difficult to tell what he was thinking. That kind of smile could hide a lot. ‘You can drop the mister, Pandora. Since we’re on first-name terms.’

Dora glared at him. She was damned if she was going to call him John. ‘Thank you. Gannon.’

There was an infinitesimal pause. ‘Any time.’

‘And I really would prefer it if you called me Dora.’

‘I’ll try and remember that.’

‘Did you say you’ve been abroad?’

‘I did,’ he confirmed, but didn’t elaborate.

‘I see.’ And as she lay Sophie down in the warm nest of the bed she had so recently vacated, tucked the cover up beneath her chin, Dora quite suddenly thought that maybe she did see. The little girl was dark-haired. Well, so was Gannon—but Sophie’s skin had that olive, Mediterranean look about it. She turned to him. ‘Have you snatched her?’ He stared at her. ‘From her mother? This is one of those terrible tug-of-love cases, isn’t it?’

She had half expected him to explode at her accusation. He didn’t, but appeared interested in her reasoning. ‘What makes you think that?’ he asked.

‘Well, it’s perfectly obvious you’re not a run-of-the-mill house-breaker, Gannon. You were just look ing for somewhere to lie low and you remembered this place, assumed it would be empty.’

‘My mistake,’ he agreed. ‘But Richard would have helped me if he’d been here. When will he be back?’

‘You don’t know him that well if you believe he’d consider helping you take a child away from her mother,’ Dora declared, shocked by the very idea.

‘This is not a tug-of-love case, Dora. Richard will help—when he knows the facts.’

‘I’m here. Tell me the facts, Gannon.’

‘Where is he?’

‘Richard?’ She hesitated. She had been planning to tell him that her brother-in-law was due back at any moment, and that he would do well to make himself scarce before he arrived. But it seemed that Gannon would actually welcome his arrival; if she told him Richard was due back, there was no way he would leave.

She would have to tell him the truth. But not the whole truth—that Poppy had gone to the States where she had just landed a contract as the new face of a huge cosmetics company, and that Richard wasn’t ready to let his new wife out of his sight.

‘I’m sorry, Gannon, but Richard is in the States on business. He won’t be back for at least a week,’ she compromised. ‘You will understand if I don’t ask you to stay and wait for him?’

His face tightened. ‘I understand perfectly, Dora. But if you don’t want me hanging around you’re going to have to stand in for him. I need money and I need transport.’

‘Transport?’ She frowned. She knew something had been bothering her. The policeman hadn’t mentioned any suspicious-looking vehicle parked in the lane. ‘How did you get here without a car?’

‘I walked.’ .

‘Walked! From where?’ The nearest major road was miles away. He didn’t answer. ‘Well, I suppose you can take my car.’ He would undoubtedly take it anyway, so she might as well make a virtue of a necessity.

‘Thank you.’

Dora stared down at the sleeping child, who hadn’t even stirred as she’d been laid in the bed. ‘And I can let you have a little cash.’ She gave him a sideways glance. ‘Or quite a lot, if you’ll let me go to the bank.’ He shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t think you’d do that. I suppose I could let you have my cash card.’

‘And I suppose you’d tell me the correct number?’

‘I would,’ she promised. ‘I wouldn’t want you coming back.’ She mentally corrected herself. She wouldn’t want him coming back angry. There was another reason for convincing him that she was telling the truth. ‘But you’ll have to leave Sophie with me. She shouldn’t be going through all this.’ He gave an odd little sigh and she turned to him, sure that she could make him see sense. He was staring down at the sleeping child, his face creased in concern. Then, as if sensing her gaze, he turned to meet it, challenge it. ‘I’d look after her, Gannon,’ she said, with sudden compassion for the man.