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CHAPTER TWO
LEANDROWATCHEDTHEslow burn of colour invade her cheeks. She might have thought that he was in the dark about Julie’s whereabouts, but it was obvious that, whatever she’d been thinking, it hadn’t occurred to her that his ex-fiancée might have vanished withholding the most important piece of information in the whole, sorry scenario.
Another man.
Not even on the very edges of his consciousness had another man featured in Julie’s disappearance. When it came to the opposite sex, she had had her fill of men, or so she had assured him on countless occasions. Wasn’t that why their arranged marriage had seemed such a good idea at the time? No unrealistic dreams to be shattered. Just cool, practical reasoning to create a solution for a problem that had arisen out of the blue with her father, like the sudden onset of a storm rolling in from distant horizons, bringing with it the promise of catastrophe.
And for him? What would he be sacrificing by a marriage of convenience? Dreams of everlasting love with a good woman? Starry-eyed, romantic notions of fairy-tale happiness? No. Far from it.
Leandro had learned from a young age that love was a weakness to be avoided at all costs. Lust and hot sex? Yes. Those were things he could control, but love? No. Love was pain and loss and vulnerability, and he had seen from a young age what that side of the happy-ever-after coinwas all about.
He didn’t remember his mother, because she had walked out when he’d been a toddler. One minute there, the next minute not. She’d dumped his dad for the glitter of jangling gold coins in a rich man’s pocket. He knew that she’d been a beautiful woman, because his father had hung onto all the pictures that he’d taken of her that used to sit on tables and shelves until, at the age of eight, Leandro had methodically gathered them all up and dumped them in the bin. Had his father rescued them? He would never know because they’d never again reappeared on the tables and shelves. Perhaps he’d known that if he’d ever brought them out again, Leandro would have done the same thing all over again, because what child needed to be reminded that he’d been abandoned by his own mother?
His father had never managed to patch up what had been left of his broken heart. In later years, he had told Leandro about the dreams he and Isabella Diaz had had and that, in the end, he just hadn’t been rich enough for her. He’d been clever and handsome, but a clever and handsome workman on a ranch hadn’t stood a chance against a rich, young guy who had come to visit and had ended up leaving with his pretty young wife.
By the time Leandro was old enough to understand the ways of the world, he had learnt a valuable lesson. His father had shown him the things he wanted to get out of life—financial security and complete control of his destiny—and the way to get those was to avoid the pitfalls of handing your heart over to anyone.
He and Julie had had an understanding and he’d liked the arrangement they’d had.
But now, a man had entered the equation and he intended to find out just how that had come about.
There wasn’t a shred of gullibility in him and, for the first time, he looked around, really taking in his surroundings.
What did he see here? A talented seamstress working hard to make a decent living. One who had suddenly found herself working on a wedding dress for a confiding client with a lineage as long as your arm and a family pile in Northumberland.
Was it coincidence that her brother had appeared from nowhere?
That Julie, in the space of a few days...or weeks...was suddenly smitten enough to disappear with a guy she barely knew?
Was money at the root of it all?
Suspicion was so much a part and parcel of Leandro’s DNA that that was the very first route he felt he needed to explore, because he was having a hard time marrying the image of his lovely but ice-cool fiancée caught in the throes of illicit passion with a virtual stranger. It made it all the more impossible to believe that this improbable whirlwind fling was anything other than a clever conman working on a vulnerable woman.
‘So...’ He sat forward now and pushed the mug of coffee to the side with one finger so that he could rest his arms on the table, narrowing the space between them. ‘I’m intrigued. Where does your brother fit into all of this?’
‘What did Julie tell you?’
‘I’ve never been much of a fan of anyone who answers a question with a question,’ he murmured drily, his dark eyes watchful and speculative. ‘And I don’t want to waste time playing games. I’m guessing that Julie and your brother have embarked on some kind of affair?’
‘I’m sorry.’
Leandro waved that aside, his mind galloping towards an explanation. ‘When? When did it all start?’
‘I honestly don’t know.’
‘Sure about that?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Tell me about your brother.’ Leandro abruptly pulled back from voicing his suspicions. He wanted a clearer picture, and it was beginning to seem that the brief question-and-answer session he had had in mind wasn’t going to go down the predicted route.
But attack wasn’t usually the best way to elicit information. Everyone deserved a fair hearing even though, in true Hansel and Gretel style, the trail of crumbs seemed to be heading in a very predictable direction, directly to the gingerbread house.
He tilted his head to one side and watched as she softened, and half smiled. An indulgent, loving sister who seemed to be in awe and admiration of an older brother who, from the sounds of it, was the sort of free spirt Leandro, personally, really didn’t get.
Momentarily distracted, he halted her in mid flow and said, with genuine curiosity, ‘You admire the fact that he doesn’t own anything even though he’s...what? Pushing thirty?’
Celia smiled. ‘He’s a free spirit.’
