Tangled Destinies

The car screeched to a stop as John’s foot slammed on the brakes. Tanya’s body jerked painfully against the seatbelt but she hardly noticed. Shock, hatred—she wasn’t sure which—had already slammed the breath from her lungs.

Beside the diminutive, blonde-headed Lisa on the stone stairway that swept to the drive, for all the world as if he were the lord of the manor, stood the unmistakable saturnine figure of their elder brother István. Tanya felt her muscles tighten and suddenly she had the extraordinary urge to jump out of the car and run as far as she could in the opposite direction.

But, ‘Drive on,’ she grated through her teeth. ‘Drive on!’

‘Oh, God! What’s he been doing with Lisa?’ John shakily put the car in gear and it shuddered forwards.

Dreading the answer to that question, she flicked an anxious glance at his cold, pale face. It mirrored her own fears but she wouldn’t help the situation if she let on how worried she was.

‘Finding out how deliriously happy she is about marrying you, I expect,’ she said firmly. ‘Nothing to worry about. Keep calm.’ Her aim was to convince herself as much as her younger brother. ‘He’s history. You and Lisa love one another. He can’t touch that.’ She prayed that were true. And quailed at the havoc István could wreak. Chaos followed in his tracks as sure as night followed day.

‘He’d better not! Do me a favour: keep him occupied while I talk to Lisa and see what’s going on,’ muttered John.

‘Me?’ Her mouth opened in dismay. She’d sworn never to speak to István again. She hated him. Yet John’s face was so stricken that she knew she had to agree. ‘OK,’ she said quietly. ‘Leave him to me.’

‘Look at her! I’ve never seen her so excited!’ hissed John.

‘Why shouldn’t she be? She is getting married to you tomorrow!’ Tanya said huskily. Her explanation sounded hollow. Lisa was dancing about, her eyes shining with…happiness? Exhilaration?

She pressed her icy fingers to the bridge of her nose where a headachy pulse was beginning to throb. István looked so contained, so impregnable as he waited motionless beside the gleefully bouncing Lisa that the prospect of spending any time with him at all was utterly daunting. But she’d do it for John, for the sake of his marriage and for the sake of her dear friend’s happiness.

Her legs trembled and she paused to steady herself before she left the car. She’d taken too long, however. The door was opened and István was hauling her out bodily as though she were still his kid sister, paying no attention to the fact that she was now a woman of twenty-four and perfectly capable of manoeuvring her aged body out of a car on her own.

‘Welcome,’ he murmured, hands of iron firmly under her armpits as he lifted her into the air till she hovered helplessly above his cynical dark face. ‘You’re quite a woman! he declared admiringly.

Seething at the insult to her dignity, she kept her expression blank and tried not to let his piercing black eyes unsettle her as he slowly, insolently, assessed the changes that the four years had brought to her appearance.

‘Please,’ she protested, slanting her eyes anxiously to where John and Lisa were greeting each other like wary acquaintances. She groaned and looked back to István. ‘Put me down!’ she said sharply.

Annoyingly, her shoe fell off her dangling foot and for a brief moment her eyes blazed with an unguarded fury at the way he’d deliberately put her at a disadvantage and rattled her composure. He had no right to handle her with such familiarity!

‘Temper’s still simmering away under the haughty exterior, I see,’ he observed in an infuriatingly sardonic drawl.

‘It’s not surprising!’ she grated. ‘Do you honestly imagine that you can cause pain to my entire family and be welcomed as though nothing had happened?’ She felt her anger threatening to escape from way down inside her and ruthlessly clamped irons on it. ‘For heaven’s sake, put me down!’ she ordered. ‘I’m not a Barbie doll—or one of your doe-eyed bimbos!’

He did so, slowly, his eyes challenging hers with an unnerving amusement as though he had some dreadful plan in store for her. She responded with an icy glare back, trying to balance on one rather shaky leg. And all the while she was uncomfortably aware that her heart was thudding crazily with a frightening excitement. It seemed, she thought hazily, that she actually relished the thought of tangling in a battle royal with her devilish brother. For a vicar’s daughter, that wasn’t seemly!

‘Allow me,’ he murmured, reaching out for her shoe and bending down to ease it on to her foot. ‘Hmm. You don’t get these in a charity shop,’ he said from a crouching position, capturing her foot and caressing the leather thoughtfully.

Oh, yes, you do! she thought in amusement. The suit, too. ‘An ‘impress John’s boss’ purchase. But her gravity seemed to be faulty and she was forced to place one nervous hand on his shoulder. Just as well she did. The realisation that its width was all him and not padding as she’d imagined seemed to disconcert her. There was a lot more of him, muscle-wise, than when he’d left—and he’d been pretty well-built even then. She wobbled. ‘So?’

He smiled faintly. ‘Since I know you’ve hardly two pennies to rub together——’

‘Who said?’ she interrupted, bristling.

‘Lisa.’ He smiled again, when she gritted her teeth to conceal her involuntary groan of dismay.

‘You’ve been chatting,’ she said flatly.

‘Among other things. She told me that you lent John the money to come over here and to keep himself for a few weeks while he looked for work. I gather it left you a bit short. I hope you haven’t got into debt.’

‘No.’ She had intended to leave it there but his lifted eyebrow suggested he was waiting for an explanation. So she gave him one. ‘A man was generous to me,’ she said, thinking of the elderly manager of the charity shop in Exeter who’d let her have a reduction on the outfit. And then she wondered why she wanted István to believe that men trailed after her as eagerly as women crawled after him. In actual fact she’d been too busy to do more than occasionally go out with old schoolfriends who still lived locally. No, not too busy…lacking in interest.

‘Serious affair, is it?’ he murmured.

It was serious that she, someone who longed to be a mother one day, had no interest in becoming anyone’s wife. ‘Very,’ she answered 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?’