November Harlequin Presents 1(164)

‘Give them to me…’

Andreas had crouched down beside her, reaching for the pictures, but then he too froze, staring at her in blank confusion.

‘What did you say?’

‘Who’s this?’

The look in his eyes made fear clutch at her heart. Just what was happening?

‘No—the rest of it. “Who’s this with…?”’ he prompted.

‘With Macy?’

Was that what he wanted? Or something else?

‘If you want the man’s name then I can’t…’

‘You don’t recognise him?’

If the look in his eyes had been bad, then the raw urgency in his voice made her tremble.

‘No—I—Andreas, what is this—what are you asking—what is this picture?’

He didn’t answer but just held out his hand to take the photos from her. Then he gave her the other hand and helped her to her feet. All in total silence. When she was upright, he spread the photos on the desk and focused the beam of the lamp directly on them.

And waited.

This was important. No words needed to be used to tell her that. Andreas’ silence and that wary, watching stance of his meant that she had to give the right answer. But what was the right answer?

There was only one way she could go with this.

The truth.

‘I don’t know what you want me to say, Andreas, but I’ll tell you what I see.’

She touched the photograph lightly, her fingertip resting on the image of the slender, dark-haired woman.

‘That’s Macy—my half-sister—and that building behind her is where she has her flat. Or, rather, had her flat. Since she discovered she was expecting Daisy, she moved in with me and…’

Her voice trailed off as realisation dawned and suddenly she was looking at the picture again, knowing just when it had to have been taken.

‘Are you telling me that that…’ a wave of her hand indicated the man in the picture, small and slim and with a boyishly handsome but weak, self-indulgent-looking face ‘…is Roy Stanton?’

And that was the moment when she knew that something had really changed. Because when she looked into Andreas’ eyes as she spoke the words she saw none of the anger, none of the hostility that her use of that name had always created, but instead there was a stunned expression in their darkness. And she could almost have sworn that there were new shadows under his eyes, giving them a bruised, exhausted look.

‘How do you know that’s your sister?’ he asked now and his voice was so husky and raw that it made her wince. ‘You can’t see her face.’

‘No, but I know the T-shirt she’s wearing—and the shoes. Macy just loves the highest heels she can find. Of course, from the back she could almost be me but there’s…’

The impact of what she’d said dried her throat, taking the words from her. In the half-light Andreas’ face looked drawn and haggard, and that stunned look had given way to one of real horror.

‘Is that what you thought, Andreas? Is that what—what someone told you?’

Once more she looked down at the photograph, seeing it this time as he might have seen it, if someone had told him that she was the woman in the picture.

A woman who had flung herself into the arms of the man with her. Into Roy Stanton’s arms. A woman who had her own arms up and around his neck, one hand almost buried in the man’s fair hair as she pressed her lips against his in an ardent, passionate kiss.

Almost buried. Because there was one finger that could be seen only too clearly. And on that finger was…

‘She’s wearing my ring!’ Becca exclaimed.

‘Forgive me.’

The words came together almost in unison, so that Andreas’ voice clashed with hers in the same moment that she spoke. And for a second she couldn’t quite register what he had said. But as she paused, a small, confused frown creasing the space between her brows, he spoke again, and this time there could be no doubt about what he said.

‘Forgive me for ever doubting you. For thinking that she could be you. For believing you could be capable of marrying me for what you could get when really you were…’

He choked off the end of the sentence, too shaken to go any further.

‘For…Is that what he told you I’d done? Oh, Andreas, I knew he was evil, but I never thought he’d take things that far.’

Her heart thudding in shock, she reached out and placed her hand over Andreas’ where his rested still on the desktop. For a moment he showed no response, remaining absolutely still, but then his fingers curled around hers and held tight.

‘Tell me,’ he said softly.

‘Just one thing first.’