SARA WOOD

Tangled Destinies


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soberly. ‘Didn’t Lisa tell you?’

      István’s thick black eyebrows drew together in disapproval as though news of her affair annoyed him, anger tugging down the corners of his mouth and tightening the strong lines of his jaw. ‘No, she didn’t. I must admit, I’m surprised any man’s got past the impressive defence works.’

      Tempted initially to grab a fistful of his raven-silk hair, she glared down at the top of his head and felt a ridiculous urge to stroke it instead. Then, inexplicably, came a fear of touching him at all. He seemed much more male than before, and she frowned at the discovery.

      ‘The drawbridge does get let down on occasions,’ she said with a shrug.

      His long black lashes fluttered then lifted to reveal his wicked, probing glance. His fingers rested briefly on the sheer stockings her father had bought for her and she quivered indignantly at his touch. ‘Extravagant…Do hope you stung him for some decent underwear too,’ István purred.

      The blush stained her face before she could even think of stopping it. ‘What an extraordinary thing to say!’ she cried in surprise. ‘That’s hardly the kind of question my brother should be asking!’ she added in reproof.

      ‘I agree, he said with suspicious amiability. ‘You’re so right. Not brotherly at all, was it?’ He paused, contemplating her with a huge grin on his face. That secret again! she thought, intrigued. ‘Only underwear salesmen or lovers speak of silk knickers, stocking-tops and black lace bras in low, passionate voices.’ His eyes mocked her disapproving expression. ‘I know, I know,’ he murmured. ‘It’s very improper for any brother of yours to be concerned with what lies hidden beneath that blue linen barrier. Perhaps,’ he suggested in wide-eyed innocence, ‘I’m not your brother after all.’

      ‘Some hopes!’ she said bitterly. ‘I see the same arrogant bully, the same sardonic face, I hear the same cynical cruelty in your voice and I feel ashamed we have the same blood. You’re no different. Unfortunately.’

      ‘I think you’ll find I’ve changed,’ he said enigmatically.

      ‘Hope springs eternal. Now return my foot,’ she said icily, finding his touch on her leg highly disturbing. What was it that bothered her about him? she puzzled. ‘I came here to see Lisa, not to stand around like a stork.’

      István studied her impassively for a moment, his fingers absently caressing her ankle, and she mused that he must have powerful thigh muscles to stay crouched in that position for so long. A small shiver curled through her, though she wasn’t cold.

      ‘You have nicer feet than a stork,’ he remarked idly. ‘Smoother, sexier——’

      ‘István!’ she protested.

      He smiled and released her foot, slowly uncurling his body till he was towering over her again. ‘Takes you back, doesn’t it?’ he mused. ‘Me, unbuttoning your little Noddy slippers at bedtime, singing some nonsense rhyme——’

      ‘That’s quite enough!’ she husked, hastily interrupting his reminiscences.

      She had no wish to remember. István had won their childhood adoration by singing throaty lullabies in a funny language they thought he’d made up. It had been Hungarian, of course. Why their mother should have taught him to speak her native tongue and him alone, she could never fathom. They were all half Hungarian, after all, but their mother had spoken of her background to no one but István. The rest of them she’d discouraged whenever they’d shown any interest in her homeland. Favouritism, she sighed to herself. It still rankled—and she still felt ashamed that it did.

      She had an overwhelming sensation of being crowded by him, and moved back a step to lean against the car. Her eyes slanted to see if John was ready to take her inside. To her alarm, she saw that he and Lisa appeared to be arguing. Adding to her anxiety, István placed both his hands on the car either side of her and leaned forwards in what might have been a friendly intimacy but had the effect of seeming rather unnerving because she was effectively trapped.

      ‘I wanted to remind you of the good times,’ he said softly.

      ‘There weren’t many—and they were totally overwhelmed by the bad times,’ she muttered, shrinking back. ‘Why remind us of things we’d rather forget?’

      ‘I’m trying to prepare you,’ he said enigmatically.

      ‘For what?’ she asked with deep suspicion.

      ‘Changes,’ he said silkily. ‘Interested?’

      She scowled. Fascinated! ‘In you?’ she fended.

      ‘I thought you might be,’ he said lazily. ‘From the moment you could toddle, you were jealous of the secrets I shared with Ester,’ he added, using their mother’s first name as he always had.

      ‘None of us liked you closeted with Mother for two hours every single day,’ she said coldly. ‘What were you doing exactly?’

      ‘Playing music, talking.’

      So intently, she thought resentfully, that once when she’d fallen over and had wanted her mother’s arms around her she’d had to bang on the locked door for ages before her mother had finally heard her piteous cries. She’d always been second-best. István had come first, everyone else a long way behind. That had hurt.

      ‘Look, István,’ she said huskily, ‘You must have some idea of the furore you caused when you disappeared and what you did to our family. This is a happy occasion and we don’t want any gatecrashers——’

      ‘I was invited,’ he said surprisingly and moved back a little, giving Tanya air space at last. ‘Isn’t that right, Lisa?’ he called out. ‘Didn’t you invite me?’

      Tanya flung an appalled glance at her apologetic, guilty-looking friend, who broke away from what looked alarmingly like a full-scale argument with John and ran over to hug her tightly. ‘Oh, Lisa,’ Tanya said, feeling emotional. ‘It’s wonderful to see you again, but…what on earth are you doing asking him here?’ she groaned.

      ‘Wait and see. Please keep István occupied as long as you can,’ whispered her friend. ‘I’m persuading John not to thump him!’ She beamed at István encouragingly and hurried back to placate the thunderous John.

      Tanya reflectively ticked off three unnerving facts. Lisa glowed. István was trying to hide a self-satisfied smirk. And he was definitely concealing a secret that Lisa knew about. The omens weren’t good.

      ‘Whether you had an invitation or not, you should have stayed away,’ she muttered, her face pinched with anxiety as Lisa drew John further and further away, out of earshot. The prospect of a long bath and a cup of tea was receding rapidly—but she’d put up with discomfort while John’s happiness was at risk. ‘It’s hypocritical of you to come. What do you care about weddings?’

      ‘I’ve developed a sudden craving for them,’ drawled István.

      ‘You liar!’ she retorted. ‘Father was right. You just enjoy making trouble, seeing people squirm——’

      ‘No, Tanya,’ he growled, a hard glitter in his eyes. ‘When he said that, he was being unreasonable. He wasn’t entirely rational where I was concerned.’

      Tanya took a deep, steadying breath. ‘Rational? What was rational about Mother’s determination to give you everything and the rest of us nothing? What do you think it did to him, when you got brand new riding boots and we were all hunting for clothes in jumble sales?’

      The dangerous glint she’d seen in István’s black eyes was extinguished as his lashes swept down to conceal whatever he was thinking. ‘It was…difficult, I appreciate that——’

      ‘Not difficult. Impossible!’ she bit. He didn’t understand. She’d have to be more specific. ‘Maybe you were the first child, the first-born son; maybe there is some archaic Hungarian custom that obliged Mother to empty