Falling for the Rebel Falcon. Lucy GordonЧитать онлайн книгу.
was doing her a much bigger favour than he could imagine, but he mustn’t be allowed to suspect. She knew a twinge of guilt, but then determinedly concentrated on the business at hand. Success. That was what really mattered.
The wheelchair arrived an hour later, followed by the maid Leonid had arranged. She assisted Perdita into a dark blue cocktail dress that emphasised her slender figure, while having long sleeves and a high neck. It was just a pity, she thought, that the wheelchair hid most of this. The sooner she was on her feet and able to display her advantages the better.
So much seemed to have happened at the same time. Even through the pain and confusion of her fall she had still been intensely aware of Leonid as a man. She could still feel his arms about her body as he carried her up the stairs, as easily as if she weighed nothing.
The accident restricted her, yet gave her his company as nothing else could have done. It would take time before she knew how she felt about that. But she was smiling at herself in the mirror.
She tried her blonde hair curled high and elaborately, then loose and flowing about her shoulders. Finally she settled for flowing, liking the natural air it gave her.
At precisely six-thirty there was a knock on her door. Leonid was there, handsome in white dinner jacket and bow tie.
‘You look almost perfect,’ he said seriously.
‘Almost?’
‘There’s just one little thing missing.’ He opened a tiny box, revealing a pair of pearl earrings. ‘Please accept these and don’t be offended. It’s just my way of thanking you.’
‘I’m not at all offended,’ she said truthfully. ‘They’re so lovely.’
‘Let me put them on for you.’
Gently he moved back her hair and fixed the earrings. Perdita watch him in the mirror, trying not to be too conscious of his fingers brushing against her skin.
‘Now I must pin my hair up,’ she said. ‘Otherwise nobody will see them.’
‘Does anyone else need to see them?’ he asked softly. ‘We know they’re there.’
‘Yes,’ she agreed. ‘We know.’
He studied her for a moment before letting her hair fall back.
‘Beautiful,’ he said, taking up his position behind the wheelchair. ‘Shall we go?’
As he wheeled her along the corridor she asked, ‘Has your father arrived yet?’
‘No, but Freya’s had a call to say he’s on his way.’
Suddenly he paused, looking down the wide staircase, the same one on which she had staged her ‘fall’. Below them, in the hall, Perdita could see several young men.
‘My brothers,’ Leonid said. ‘At least, some of them.’
Just then one of the men glanced up, nudged another and pointed.
‘That’s Darius and his wife, Harriet,’ Leonid said. ‘Let’s make a grand entrance. The elevator’s along here.’
As they descended he said, ‘By the way, why are you in a wheelchair?’
‘What?’ she asked, aghast. ‘You know why. You were there—’
‘I mean what do we tell them?’ he explained. ‘They’re bound to ask about you and we need to say the same thing.’
‘Oh yes, of course.’
‘If you’re going to fool people you have to plan your story in advance,’ he said, amused. ‘But I guess you’re not a very experienced liar, are you?’
‘Am I not?’ she asked wildly.
‘No, otherwise you’d have known that you have to set it up first.’
In fact she knew exactly this. The shock of being mistaken for a naïve newcomer to the art of presentation sent her dizzy.
‘I guess I’m just stupid,’ she hazarded vaguely.
‘No, you’re an innocent. You’ve never learned the art of scheming. Don’t worry, I’m dishonest enough for both of us.’
‘Phew! That’s a relief. As for the wheelchair, I think we’d better stick to the truth. The hotel people know that I fell downstairs today.’
‘You’re right,’ he said gravely. ‘Rely on the truth whenever you can. It saves awkwardness later.’
She glanced up to see how seriously he was speaking, and found him looking down at her with a look of wicked conspiracy that sent a sweet tremor through her.
‘Is that experience talking?’ she asked.
‘What do you think?’
‘I think—oh, we’re here.’
The doors were opening. And there was his family gazing at the picture they made. Freya must have spread the word about finding them together, but the wheelchair took everyone by surprise. Perdita guessed that none of them would have expected to see Leonid tamely doing such a duty. They all regarded her with friendly curiosity and pressed forward to meet her as he wheeled her out.
‘This is Darius, my eldest brother,’ Leonid said. ‘And this is Marcel, who owns the tatty little shack we’re standing in.’
Everyone laughed at this way of describing the luxurious hotel, and Perdita responded, ‘I have to say that as tatty little shacks go this is the nicest I’ve ever seen.’
This brought another laugh. She was becoming a success. She won more approval when she greeted Jackson with admiring remarks about his latest television programme.
A couple had just appeared, hand in hand.
‘Travis,’ Leonid called. ‘Over here.’
The two brothers embraced and made the introductions.
‘This is Charlene,’ Travis said.
‘I’ve heard a lot about you,’ Leonid told her.
‘Don’t believe all that stuff in the press,’ Travis said. ‘Nobody knows what she’s really like—except me.’
He said this with a warm look that underlined his real meaning. Charlene looked down, blushing slightly.
‘And this is Erica,’ Leonid told them.
‘Whom you’ve been keeping a big secret,’ Travis said.
‘We don’t all live in the spotlight,’ Leonid told him humorously. ‘Now, let’s go and eat.’
The family were to dine, not in the main restaurant, but in a smaller room nearby that was usually hired for private occasions. Tonight Marcel had commandeered it for himself and his family. Perdita found herself sitting next to him on one side, with Leonid on the other.
Leonid consulted her about the menu. Bearing in mind that they were putting on an act, she gave him all her attention, gazing at his face and responding fervently. When the food was served she faded gracefully into the background so that he could concentrate on his family, thus giving her the chance to study the scene unobserved.
Facing her across the table were Travis and Charlene, who seemed happily absorbed in each other. If their relationship really was a PR con trick they were hiding it splendidly.
‘You’re doing well,’ Leonid said in her ear.
‘Thank you. I’m too nervous to say anything very much.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Hmm?’
‘Somehow I can’t quite see you as nervous. A woman with your looks never has to worry about her reception. What are you professionally? No, let me guess. A model?’
‘What do you