The Falcon Dynasty

‘You’ll do that all right.’ She pulled down pair of luxurious stretch jeans. ‘You can actually get into these?’

‘Sure.’

Hortense held them up against her plump figure, and sighed. ‘You know, I could murder you for being slim enough for these. Hey ho!’ She tossed them onto the bed. ‘Put them on.’

‘But do I want to wear them right now?’ Perdita mused. ‘I’d like to give a first impression of severe, virtuous modesty. Maybe even a bit dull.’

‘In your dreams! Listen, if a kindly fate has made you slim enough to wear these, count your blessings. Who knows how long those blessings will last? Right, now I’ve got to be going. And remember, if we happen to bump into each other—’

‘We’ve never met before,’ Perdita vowed.

‘Thanks. If they knew I’d been in touch with a journalist I’d be in trouble. They’re very sniffy about that. Bye.’

When she was alone Perdita eyed several garments, before deciding that she would, after all, wear the snug-fitting jeans. In contrast with their provocation she chose a loose blouse of white silk, that came modestly halfway down her thighs. It was good to be elegant and expensive, but nobody could accuse her of flaunting herself.

She headed out and began wandering around the hotel, studying, listening, taking photographs with her discreet camera, whose tiny size belied its power. Gradually she saw members of the Falcon family, but as yet no sign of the one she wanted.

Then, as she came to the top of a grand staircase, she paused and drew back, wondering if she could really see what she thought she could. At the foot of the stairs was a man whose height, dark hair and handsome features suggested that her search was over. Travis Falcon. This must be him. She was too far away to make out details, but what she could see was surely Travis.

There was no sign of the woman he was supposed to be bringing with him. That could be helpful, if only she could get him alone for a while.

But how to make him notice her, chat for a moment? It wouldn’t be easy.

‘But I think I see a way,’ she murmured.

She had perfected a technique for this kind of occasion. Moving carefully, she could appear to slip on the stairs, creating just enough commotion to attract attention. Quietly she crept down the stairs, not to alert him. Only when she was three steps up did she seem to collapse, rolling down to the bottom.

At once she knew that she’d done something wrong. Instead of the easy landing she’d planned, she felt a sharp pain go through her ankle as her foot twisted beneath her. Wildly she grabbed at the banister and came to a sudden halt at his feet, so that he nearly tripped over her.

He made an explosive sound and dropped to his knees, reaching out both hands to support her, making an explosive sound, then demanding in French, ‘Que le diable? Êtes-vous blessé?’

‘I don’t understand—’ she gasped.

‘Are you hurt?’ he repeated in English. ‘I … I’m not sure,’ she gasped, wincing from the pain. ‘My ankle—’

‘Have you twisted it?’

‘I think so—aaah!’

Still holding one of her hands, he put his other arm about her and drew her to her feet.

‘Try to put your weight on it,’ he said. ‘Just very gently.’

She tried but gave up at once. She would have fallen but for the strength of his arm about her waist, keeping her safe. She raised her eyes to his face.

It was the wrong face.

This man looked enough like Travis Falcon to be mistaken for him at a distance, but up close there was no chance.

‘Oh!’ she gasped before she could stop herself.

‘I think you need a doctor,’ he said in an accented voice that confirmed her fears. Travis was American. This man came from Eastern Europe.

‘No, I can manage,’ she said hastily.

‘I don’t think you can. Let’s collect your things before you lose them.’

She supported herself by clinging to the banister while he scooped up her purse and several papers that had fallen onto the floor from her bag.

‘One of them’s your passport,’ he said. ‘You should take better care of it. What room are you in?’ She gave him the number. ‘Right, put your arms around my neck.’

She did so and he reached down to lift her very slowly and carefully.

‘Is that all right?’ he asked. ‘I’m not hurting you, am I?’

‘No, I’m fine.’

‘Then let’s go.’

Turning, he climbed the stairs to the top, then headed down the corridor to her room. She reached into her bag for the key and he carried her inside, laying her down gently on the bed.

‘All right?’ he asked anxiously.

‘Yes, I’m not really hurt.’

‘We’ll see what the doctor says about that.’ Without seeking her consent, he took up the phone and called the management.

‘I need a doctor here at once to look after a woman who tripped on the stairs.’ He gave the room number and hung up. ‘They’re sending someone at once.’

‘You’re very kind.’

‘Not at all. I’m really trying to ease my own mind. When I heard you behind me I turned sharply, and I hate to think I caused you to trip.’

She knew a moment’s self-reproach that he should blame himself for the fall she had contrived. But there was something pleasant and comforting about his determination to care for her. She’d always prided herself on being self-sufficient, independent. In her job these were necessary virtues. But it was nice to be looked after, just for a few minutes.

‘While we wait for the doctor I will order you a hot drink,’ he said. ‘Tea? Coffee?’

‘Tea, thank you.’

When he’d telephoned the order he turned back to Perdita and studied her closely, frowning, almost scowling. Now she saw that he was mopping the front of his suit where something had been spilled.

‘Did I do that?’ she asked.

‘Unfortunately I happened to be carrying a small glass of wine. Don’t worry. Accidents happen. It’s not as if you fell on purpose.’

‘No,’ she said with a twinge of guilt. ‘I’m sorry to have troubled you.’

‘It seems to be me who troubled you. Why did the sight of me give you such a nasty shock?’ He gave her a flinty stare. ‘Let me guess. You thought I was Travis, didn’t you?’

‘I … no, I … it wasn’t … I don’t understand. Travis?’

‘Travis Falcon.’

‘Oh yes,’ she said vaguely. ‘He’s on television, isn’t he?’

‘That’s putting it mildly. Apparently we look very much alike. People often think they’re meeting him and are disappointed when it’s only me.’

‘How rude of them! Are you related?’

‘He’s my half-brother. My name is Leonid Tsarev.’

He extended his hand and she shook it, trying to control her whirling thoughts. She was shocked at herself. She, who prided herself on being in command of every situation, was suddenly reduced to stammering confusion.

‘How … how do you do?’ she murmured.

CHAPTER TWO

‘I COULD ASK you the same,’ he said wryly, ‘but it’s a silly question. Neither of us seems to be doing very well since meeting the other.’

‘I guess you’re right. Ouch!’ She reached down to her ankle, which had hurt as she moved it.

‘The doctor will be here soon,’ he said. ‘He can make a full assessment.’

‘I hope so,’ she said, rubbing the spot, but making little impact because the material of the jeans was in the way.

‘You’ll need to take them off so that the doctor can get to it,’ Leonid said. ‘Ah, there’s someone at the door.’

While he went to the door she started to undress, meaning to pull the sheets over her, to preserve modesty. First she removed her right shoe, then tried to remove her left, but this was the injured foot and pulling at the shoe was intensely painful. She was still floundering when he turned back into the room, carrying a tray of tea.

‘Are you having trouble?’ he asked, quickly setting down the tray.

‘Yes, this shoe won’t move—ow!’

He set down the tray. ‘Let me help you. Just lie there and I’ll do the work.’

He eased the shoe off as gently as possible. It hurt, but not unbearably, and at last both feet were free.

‘Thank you,’ she said, lying back.

He tried to study the damaged foot, frowning. ‘It’s hard to see while your jeans are covering it.’

‘Yes, I really will have to take them off,’ she sighed.

‘Let me help you. It’s all right, I won’t look. This is strictly medical.’

‘Thanks.’

She opened the buttons at the waist, unzipped the front and began to ease the material down. At first she managed but there came a point when he had to take over. Perdita took a deep breath, raised her hips slightly, balancing on her one good foot, while he drew the jeans towards him, gradually revealing beautiful, slender hips clad in delicate silken panties. But these he didn’t see. His head was ostentatiously turned away.

A little further, a bit more—then it was time to pull the jeans over the injured foot.

‘Sorry if I hurt you,’ he said as she gasped.

‘Not your fault.’

‘Is anyone staying here with you, anyone I can contact?’

‘No.’

‘You’re alone? There’s nobody to look after you?’

‘I don’t need looking after,’ she assured him.

He looked cynical. ‘You can lie there and say that, after what’s just happened?’

His manner was kind but authoritative, with a touch of ‘laying down the law’ and she was provoked to say, ‘What about you? Is someone looking after you?’

‘I don’t need looking after,’ he echoed her.

‘Well, you know the answer to that.’

‘Yes, Miss Hanson, I guess I do.’

‘How do you know my name?’

‘I saw it in your passport when I picked it up off the floor. You are Erica Hanson, and you’re English.’

‘I guess my passport told you that too.’

‘Plus your accent, and the fact that you chose tea.’

‘Ah yes, that’s a dead giveaway, isn’t it?’

A knock on the door announced the arrival of the doctor, a kindly middle-aged man.

‘How much does it hurt?’ he asked, feeling the ankle. ‘Bearable,’ Perdita said.

‘Good. It’s a bit twisted. There’s no serious damage but it still needs some rest.’

‘You mean I’m going to be confined up here?’ she asked, aghast.

‘Not necessarily. The hotel can let you have a wheelchair for a day or so. I’ll arrange it, plus a walking stick for when you need to leave the wheelchair.’

He bandaged the ankle and gave her some painkillers, then spoke to Leonid. ‘I’ll come back tomorrow. Can you manage to look after her until then?’

‘But—’ Perdita began to protest but was silenced by a gesture from Leonid.

‘Leave it to me,’ he told the doctor.

He saw the man to the door and returned. Perdita was still lying down, now with the duvet modestly pulled up over her hips. It had seemed the right thing to do, although this man had a mysterious quality that didn’t make her feel at all modest.

‘I can’t let you look after me,’ she protested.

‘You don’t have any choice,’ he said firmly. ‘I’ve decided.’

‘Don’t I get a say?’

‘Not in the slightest.’

His manner was slightly too hard to be called warm but it wasn’t unkind. She guessed he wasn’t a patient man, but neither was he entirely unsympathetic. His eyes were dark, shadowed, hinting at fascinating depths full of mysteries. But also hinting at something else, lighter, possibly interesting.

And he was the brother of the man she’d come here to study, she reminded herself. Professional efficiency demanded that she prolong this moment.

‘That’s kind of you,’ she said softly. ‘Especially after I gave you so much trouble.’

He made a sound that was half a sigh, half a groan.

‘Look, I’d better tell you, I’m not just being nice. There’s something in this for me too.’

So the attraction wasn’t just on her side, she thought. She held her breath, longing for him to say the next words, and slightly shocked at herself for wanting it so much.

‘It’s like this,’ he said.

But before he could speak there was a knock at the door. He scowled. ‘Are you expecting anyone?’

‘Nobody,’ she said.

He opened the door, revealing an attractive young woman.

‘Sorry to barge in,’ she said. ‘But I’ve got a message for you, and I saw you carrying a woman upstairs.’ She glanced at Perdita, lying in bed. ‘I haven’t … er … interrupted anything, have I?’

‘You have,’ he said ironically. ‘But not what you’re thinking.’ He pulled her close for a kiss on the cheek.

Perdita sighed. So that was that.

So much for false hopes.

The young woman was in her twenties, well-dressed and modestly attractive without being a great beauty.

‘Where did you vanish to?’ she asked Leonid. ‘We were all of us about to go to the chapel but suddenly you weren’t there.’

‘Sorry, Freya, I remembered something I had to do.’

‘Are you going to introduce me?’ she said, indicating Perdita.

‘Freya, this is Erica Hanson. Erica, this is my stepsister. My father is married to her mother.’

‘And we bicker like a real brother and sister,’ Freya said cheerfully. ‘Hello, Erica. It’s nice to meet you. Very nice indeed.’

She said the last words with a mysterious significance, and a glance at Leonid that was laden with meaning.

‘I’m off to the chapel,’ she said. ‘They’ll be starting the rehearsal soon. Are you coming, Leonid?’

‘I’m not sure for the moment—’

‘Don’t worry, Amos won’t be there. He hasn’t arrived yet. Anyway, I’ll see you later at the family gathering. Erica, I look forward to seeing you there.’

‘Well, I don’t know if I—’

‘Of course you do. Bye for now.’

She hurried out, but not without turning in the doorway and giving them a thumbs up sign.

‘What was that all about?’ Perdita asked.

‘I’m afraid it means that my family is trying to take you over for its own purpose,’ he said ruefully. ‘Freya has a problem. My father has five sons but no daughter, and he wants to see Freya married off to one of us so that she’ll be more than just his stepdaughter. But he’s rapidly running out of sons. Darius is already married, Marcel is marrying Cassie tomorrow, and that just leaves three of us.

‘We all like Freya but we don’t fancy being dictated to. Luckily she doesn’t like it either. That’s why she was so glad to meet you. She sees you as protection.’

‘You mean if your father thinks—?’

‘That we’re a couple, yes.’

‘That will make Freya safe?’

‘Safe from me. There’s still Jackson and Travis.’

‘But isn’t Travis—? I mean there’s been a lot in the press about his latest love. Surely she’ll be here with him?’

‘I don’t know. Probably, but nobody’s really sure about them. We’re not even certain that Amos is coming. He’s annoyed with Marcel for daring to choose his own wife. But if he does turn up we’re all in danger, Jackson, Travis—and me. Unless—’ he looked at her with meaning ‘—unless some guardian angel will be my shield.’

Perdita’s lips twitched. ‘You mean stand between you and your father and divert his scheming to your brothers?’

‘Exactly. I think Freya rather misunderstood the fact that she saw you in bed.’

‘But don’t you have a girlfriend back wherever you live? From your accent you sound as if you come from a great distance.’

‘I live in Moscow.’

‘How exciting. And I’m sure you must know a lot of women.’

She had a sense that the question displeased him. His voice was edgy as he replied, ‘I have many acquaintances but none that I’m close to in that sense. Otherwise I’d have brought someone with me. Are you attached to anyone?’

‘No, I’m a free agent too.’

‘So you’ll stick with me while we’re here, this evening and at the wedding? I’ll look after you.’ He gave a wry grin and indicated the damp patch on his suit. ‘After all, you owe me a favour.’

‘Yes, I suppose I do.’

‘So you’ll be my “shield and protector”?’

She thought no man had ever looked less in need of protection. There was a formidable air about him that contrasted oddly with the flickers of warmth and humour that had begun to appear in his manner.

‘Unless you’ve got other plans,’ he added.

‘Hardly,’ she said, pointing at her foot.

‘No, you’re going to need me to act as nurse and carer,’ he said with a hint of mischievous triumph. ‘In fact this suits me so well that you might almost think I caused your fall to suit my own purposes.’

This came uncomfortably near to her own actions, but by now her spirits were rising and she was able to say theatrically, ‘Oh, surely not! You could never be so scheming and dishonest.’

He grinned. ‘Believe it or not, there are people in the world who’d descend to that.’

‘I’m shocked! Shocked!’

‘Naturally. You and I rise above such scandalous behaviour.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘Unless, of course, it’s really necessary to push the boundaries.’

‘There really are people who sink so low? You must tell me about them.’

‘I will. We’ll discuss it over dinner tonight. I promise you’ll have a good time.’

That depended on how you defined a good time, she thought. So far she was achieving everything she’d wanted—tricking her way into the inner circle, an invitation to the wedding. That wasn’t a good time. That was a wonderful, fantastic time.

And as if to underline her good fortune, she had the company of a man whose brooding good looks might have been designed to make everything thrilling. Even his slightly fierce manner, instead of being off-putting, was merely intriguing.

‘You don’t answer,’ he said. ‘Are you afraid that I’m going to take advantage? Don’t be.’ His wolfish eyes gleamed, but his smile softened the look. ‘Even if you weren’t poorly, this is strictly a performance to convince my father. Just be at my side, and let me put my arm around you so that he can see. But when we’re alone you won’t have to fight me off, I promise.’

‘That makes me feel a lot better,’ she said untruthfully.

‘Then you’ll do it?’

She smiled at him. She had the sudden feeling of standing at the edge of a high cliff. One false step meant danger, but danger didn’t frighten her. Danger was like fun: exhilarating.

‘I’ll do it,’ she said.

‘Splendid. I’ll arrange for the hotel to send you a maid to help you dress, and I’ll collect you at six-thirty. And … er … if you’d like to buy a new dress—at my expense—’

‘Certainly not!’ she said primly. ‘I can dress myself appropriately.’

‘Of course you can, but—’

‘And I prefer to dress myself,’ she added with a perfectly calculated amount of injured virtue. ‘I hope you understand that.’

‘Perfectly. Please don’t be insulted. I was merely showing my gratitude.’

‘But I’m doing this because I want to,’ she assured him. ‘We agreed that I owe you a favour, since I damaged your suit.’

‘Since you—? Oh yes.’ He looked down at himself, almost as though remembering for the first time. ‘I must go and change. Goodbye. I’ll see you later.’

As the door closed behind him she breathed out. He 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.