THE GREAT PRETENDER

Chapter One

‘You mustn't go Mary. The snow's coming down in a blizzard. You'll catch your death of

cold!’ Blue eyes, the mirror image of her own, gazed imploringly at Mary, slender hands

reaching up to clutch weakly at a worn shawl, fingers trembling too much to keep their hold

for more than a few seconds.

Mary took the shaking hands in her own and held them to her breast.

‘You need help Maggie,’ she said softly. ‘The snow can't stop me – I've walked the glen in

all weathers and I know its every inch. I don't want to leave you alone but I must. You’ll be

warm and safe here.’

‘Wait for Andrew,’ Maggie said. ‘He can ride for help on his fine strong horse.’

Mary’s heart gave an unexpected little skip at the thought of the big, laughing-eyed

Highlander who could fell other men with a single blow of his powerful fist, yet hold a

fledgeling bird in that same hand without disturbing a single feather. He hadn’t said anything

to her yet, but the look in his eyes when he watched her told her he would. He would be a

fine husband, good not only to her but to the twin sister who depended on her for everything.

It had always been that way since their father had been killed fighting for his beloved

Prince, Charles Edward Stuart. Their mother, crazed with grief, had wandered out into the

night as the girls lay sleeping. She’d been taken lifeless from the river the following morning.

Since then everything had landed on Mary’s narrow shoulders. Maggie had been a sickly

child and had grown into a delicate young woman, ill-suited to the rigours of the life they led.

She tried to help when she could but Mary would see her lift a hand to her brow in obvious

exhaustion and would quickly step in to take over the chore, thanking providence for her own

sturdier constitution.

When Mary looked into Maggie’s face, she saw her own fair skin, blue eyes and rosy lips.

Maggie’s glorious auburn hair was a touch of rippling flame in the drab, colourless room.

Mary gently touched the tumbling locks, wondering as she often did how her frail sister

managed to keep her hair so silken and sweet-smelling. Her own hair was just as rich and just

as red, yet it never shone with the same lustre.

‘Andrew won't be here today,’ she told Maggie softly now, ‘You gave me his message

yourself, remember?’

The blue eyes shuttered. ‘I forgot. I seem to forget so easily.’

Mary stroked her forehead with gentle fingers. ‘It's because you’ve been unwell. You'll be

fine once I get you some of Nell Armstrong’s excellent tonic. That will put the bloom back in

those bonny cheeks.’

‘But it's so far for you to go on foot and in such weather.’ Maggie’s words were barely a

whisper and Mary was touched by a cold finger of fear. No matter how bad the weather, she

would get the tonic. Maggie needed it and Maggie would have it. She bent to kiss her sister.

‘Try to sleep my love. I'll be back as soon as I'm able.’

She tucked the threadbare shawl more tightly about her shoulders as she opened the door

to see huge white flakes swirling down from a leaden grey sky. Then she closed the door

firmly behind her and stepped out into the storm.

Maggie gazed up at the ceiling for a long moment, then smiled. There was time enough

now to stay beneath the covers where it was warm. But in a little while she'd rise and ready

herself for Andrew. He’d promised he would come today and he always kept his promises.

His fine big horse would carry him safely through the blizzard and she’d find some way to

make him stay with her, even though he’d want to ride out in search of Mary. Tomorrow or

the next day perhaps when the storm subsided, they’d find her – victim of the fool’s errand

she’d taken upon herself and it would be only natural for Andrew and Maggie to seek solace

from their devastating grief in one another.

This time next year they'd be living in a town. Andrew would hate to leave his beloved

native glen of course, but he’d do it for her sake when she convinced him it was the only way

she could finally find health and strength.

Maggie’s blue eyes glittered as she visualised the cosy little set-up waiting for her in the

future. She’d have servants to see to all the tasks her sister had performed for so long. And if

Andrew turned out to be less than the Great Provider she expected him to be, then she’d

simply find another. After all she’d accomplished so far, it shouldn’t be hard.

Maggie gave a contented little sigh and gazed in happy wonder at her own lily-white

hands. No-one on earth would ever suspect such delicate, pretty fingers could ever be capable

of prising spars free on the old wooden bridge to trip unwary feet and send a sister’s body

tumbling onto treacherous rocks. No-one. On earth.

Far, far away, further than human eyes could see, the Watchers gazed in helpless horror as

the drama unfolded.

‘We can't let it happen! We have to do something to save the girl.’

The speaker was young, taken too early to have experienced for himself the kind of cruelty

he was now witnessing. And naïve enough to think he could change the world. His older,

wiser companion shook his head.

‘That's the way it's been planned.’

‘But why?’

The older man shrugged, touched by the depth of the boy’s anger and grief for someone

he’d never even known, remembering when he too had railed against the apparently random

workings of fate. Now he understood. But sometimes even he still found it hard to accept.

‘Mary will have her time,’ he said quietly. ‘Not in this life perhaps, but in another. And

Maggie too.’ He smiled at the boy. ‘Shall we press the fast-forward button and see for

ourselves?’

The boy grinned delightedly, knowing this was a major flouting of regulations.

‘Definitely!

Chapter Two

‘How’s your new personal assistant working out?’ Mary lay back against the pillows,

watching with unabashed pleasure as Andrew emerged from the bathroom, his skin still

faintly damp from the shower.

‘She’s okay.’ He reached for a shirt and the movement tautened the muscles in his broad

shoulders. ‘She's no longer the little mouse you met at the office party though. His smile was

amused. ‘She seems to be coming out of her shell.’

‘In what way?’ Mary was happily distracted by the sight of her husband's long, powerful

legs disappearing into dark grey trousers, his firm fingers pulling the zip slowly upward, How

ridiculous to be just as turned on by the sight of a man dressing as undressing!

‘She’s stopped wearing her hair in that tight little no-nonsense bun for one thing. And I’m

sure it’s becoming redder. Like yours. In fact...’ he turned to Mary, grinning broadly as he

realised her eyes had been following his every move. He allowed his own eyes to trail over

the delicious curves of her body, teasingly moulded by a white sheet. If he didn’t have this

damned meeting this morning he'd strip the sheet away and carry on where he’d left off just a

short while before.

‘In fact...’ Mary prompted gently.

He shook his head to clear his mind. ‘In fact – I’d say she’s trying to model herself on

you.’

‘On me?’

He nodded. ‘She asked me what sort of clothes you most like to wear. If you have a

favourite shop or designer and she wanted to know the name of your hairdresser as well come

to think of it.’ He knotted his tie and glanced briefly in the mirror. ‘Obviously trying to

impress me.’

‘Is she succeeding?’

‘Wonderfully.’ He crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed and slid the sheet down

to reveal her naked shoulders and the first hint of creamy breasts. ‘Just yesterday I was so

overcome with desire I had my wicked way with her behind the filing cabinet.’

‘Really?’ Her voice grew husky as she caught the scent of his clean male skin. She moved,

deliberately letting the sheet slip still further. ‘What exactly did you do?’

‘What did I do?’ His eyes glittered darkly. ‘I kissed her – like this...’ his mouth touched

hers in a fleeting caress... ‘then like this...’ his mouth traced a path over her throat and

shoulders and she gave a soft little whimper, her auburn hair tumbling over the pillows as she

arched up towards him.

‘Then like this...’ his hands curved under her breasts, lifting them to his mouth and he

lavished attention on both, his tongue swirling circles over her taut nipples.

‘What did she do?’ Mary could barely whisper the question.

He took her hand and laid it on his own thigh. ‘She was a very wicked girl.’ His warm

breath rippled over her skin and she slid her fingers slowly upward, raking her nails lightly

over he stretched material of his trousers.

‘As wicked as me?’ Her smile was positively feline as she found the proof of his

reawakened desire.

‘No-one could ever be as wicked as you.’ With a groan he swiftly unbuckled the belt he’d

fastened only seconds before and rolled onto the bed beside her.

‘You’ll wrinkle your shirt.’

‘Damn the shirt.’

‘You’ll be late for the meeting.’

‘Damn the meeting.’ His hand was on her stomach, stroking its way downward with

tantalising stealth. ‘I'm the Boss – they can’t start without me!’

She slid further down the bed, kicked the sheet away completely and reached behind her

head to grasp the spars of the headboard, needing an anchor to secure her through the

turbulent storm of passion. His hands skimmed lightly over her body, knowing just where to

touch, where to linger, where to tease. He knew her so well, she thought in the last few

seconds before thought disappeared altogether – yet for them familiarity never spelled

boredom. Instead it just kept bringing ever sweeter gifts – like the one hovering so

tantalisingly before her now, just a breath away. With a sigh she gave herself up to the flood

of glorious feeling, knowing Andrew was with her, holding her close, sharing the same

white-heat that never burned but only forged them closer still.

‘Sorry I’m late Margaret.' Andrew threw his briefcase carelessly onto the chair and leafed

quickly through a pile of papers set neatly on his desk. ‘Did you make my excuses?’

‘You don’t need to make excuses Mr McCall. You are the man in charge.’

The woman’s blue eyes held no readable expression yet Andrew was conscious of a faint

note of disapproval in her voice.

‘I've rescheduled your meeting for two o'clock this afternoon.’

‘That’s fine.' Andrew glanced at her as she moved about the office, her back ramrod

straight. ‘By the way Margaret, I’m sure you must have realised by now that I don’t like

formality. So isn’t it about time you started using my christian name?’

He was intrigued to see a tiny smile curve her lips as she raised her head a fraction,

looking up at him from beneath dark lashes.

‘Very well. If you'll call me Maggie. I always feel Margaret sounds far too staid and

sensible.’

She was standing beside the filing cabinet and something in her strangely teasing look

made him remember the mischievous fantasy he’d woven for Mary earlier that morning. He’d

never felt himself attracted to his P.A. before, yet now he grew distinctly hot under the collar

imagining her leaning against the cabinet, her clothes in disarray, her glorious hair tumbling

in abandon about her flushed cheeks.

He moved slightly in his executive chair, relieved he was concealed behind the desk.

She’d be horrified if she spotted his schoolboy reaction – probably more horrified still if she

found out it was only because she reminded him of his wife.

He cleared his throat. ‘So you’re not staid and sensible then...Maggie?’

This time there was no mistaking the provocative tilt of her head.

‘No Andrew,’ she said clearly. ‘I’m not.’

For a long moment she looked at him, then picked up a sheaf of papers from the desk.

‘I’ll be next door if you need me,’ she murmured. ‘For anything.

As she left the office the atmosphere lightened immediately and he sat back in his chair,

grinning at his own foolishness. For a moment there he could have sworn she’d been coming

on to him, but that was nonsense. She’d been his PA for three months now and had never

been anything other than efficient and matter-of-fact. To suddenly view her as some sort of

siren was little short of ridiculous. But even if he hadn’t been mistaken, she was wasting her

time. There was only one woman for him and he’d left her in his bed that morning. He’d

never need anyone else.

He forgot all about it as he turned his attention to work. His company organised

exhibitions, conferences and PR shindigs all over the country and they were right on the

verge of breaking into the European market. It was a tough, highly-competitive world,

becoming ever more so. Andrew had to work hard to make sure his company was always one

step ahead of the game and of the opposition.

Maggie came back into his office a short while later and a swift glance was enough to

remove any lingering doubts he might have had. She was the perfect Personal Assistant, calm

and capable, methodical and well-organised. He’d clearly imagined the sultry looks –

probably thanks to the very real sultry looks he'd enjoyed seeing on his wife's face earlier.

‘I’ve confirmed the travel arrangements and hotel reservations for the trip to Aberdeen

next week’ Maggie said. ‘I’ve booked three nights just in case the meetings go on longer than

you expect.’ She lifted her shoulders in a faintly dismissive shrug and he couldn’t help but

notice the way the movement made her breasts move beneath her sheer blouse. ‘Or

something else might come up to keep you there for an extra night.’

‘I sincerely hope not.’ Andrew smiled thoughtfully. ‘When my wife Mary was my

Personal Assistant I thoroughly enjoyed making these trips when she could come with me.

Now I’m always keen to get home as soon as humanly possible.’

Her eyes were cool. ‘I expect she worries about you when you're away from home, but

she’ll have no need to do so this time, because I’m coming along too.’ She held up one hand

to stay his protest. ‘There’s no need to thank me Andrew, I’m quite happy to do so.

According to the organisers quite a few of the delegates are bringing secretaries and PA’s so I

shall be in good company.’ Her smile was un-nerving. ‘You can tell your wife I’ll be there to

make sure you have everything you could possibly need. Absolutely everything.’

Andrew closed the hotel bedroom door behind him, carelessly tossing his jacket onto a chair

as he crossed the room. He pulled his tie off, then poured a stiff whisky from the mini-bar

before dropping onto the bed with a weary sigh. It had been a bitch of a long day and he was

more than ready for sleep. But first he wanted – no, needed – to hear Mary’s voice.

As he hit speed-dial on his mobile, he glanced at the bed in wry resentment. It was huge,

far bigger than one person could possibly need and he’d be horribly aware of all the empty

space when he finally slid between the cool sheets. Things would be very different if Mary

was here with him.

‘Hi Sweetheart.’ Her voice was a honeyed caress, making him feel better - and worse - at

the same time. ‘How are things going?’

‘Pretty good.’ He kicked off his shoes and swung his legs up onto the bed, cradling the

phone in the crook of his neck as he began to unbutton his shirt. ‘I’ve been in meetings all

day. I swear this country’s about to turn into one big exhibition!’

‘With you organising it?’

‘It’s beginning to feel that way.’

‘Are you still hoping to get home on thursday?’

He frowned. ‘I’m not sure. I’ve made a few new contacts and they’re all keen to meet with

me while I'm here in Aberdeen. Maggie’s been working like a demon to get it all organised.’

‘Maggie?’ Mary was silent for a moment. ‘You mean Margaret?’

He smiled, enjoying the faintly cool note in her voice. After seven years of extremely

happy marriage it was nice to know his wife could still be bothered by the green-eyed demon

of jealousy.

‘My PA now prefers the short form of her name,’ he said. ‘She thinks Margaret sounds too

sensible and staid.’

‘The very qualities you employed her for. You said you’d had enough of flighty young

things who thought more about their social lives than their jobs.’

‘I did say that, didn’t I!’ Andrew chuckled. ‘Anyway – whatever she chooses to call

herself, she’s still the mistress of efficiency. She can anticipate my every need before I even

know it myself.’

‘So long as it’s only your work needs she’s anticipating,’ Mary tried to laugh but at the

other end of the telephone line, her knuckles whitened with her grip on the receiver. For a

tough and astute businessman, Andrew could be remarkably naïve about women. But Mary

definitely wasn’t. And she was beginning to see danger signs in Maggie’s behaviour.

‘You are the only person who will ever have the opportunity to anticipate the other kind,’

Andrew’s voice became low and caressingly intimate. ‘What are you doing right now?’

Mary smiled. Now they were back on familiar ground.

‘I'm just getting ready to go to bed.’

‘What are you wearing?’

Mary glanced down at the cosily comfortable pyjamas and rolled her eyes wryly.

‘That slinky little teddy you bought for my birthday.’

‘The black one?

‘The silky black one.’

He swallowed hard, picturing the skimpy garment, remembering the way it would slither

over her curvaceous body as she moved, tantalising him with the promise of all it concealed.

‘And black stockings?’ His voice was husky.

‘Yes.’ The single word came on a whispering breath. ‘The sheer ones you like best.’

‘Oh Mary.’ He rubbed one hand over his bare chest and felt his own heart race. ‘You

wouldn’t believe what you’re doing to me.’

Her laugh was low and teasing. ‘I think I can imagine. Just hold those thoughts till you

come home. To me.’

‘I will honey. If I can survive that long.’

Mary began to speak again but stopped abruptly as she heard the faint sounds of someone

tapping on Andrew’s door, then an unmistakeably female voice.

‘Splashing out on room service?’ she asked lightly, not at all sure she wanted to hear the

answer.

‘No. Maggie’s just come in with some problem she needs me to deal with.’

‘At this time of night?’ She tried to keep the edge out of her voice, but it wouldn’t be

denied.

‘I told you she was Mistress Efficiency. I’ll call you tomorrow.’

Mary was frowning as she put the phone back in its cradle. She’d trust Andrew with her

life but he was a long way from home and feeling lonely and it was nobody’s fault but her

own if he was feeling a little frisky after her provocative teasing. Mistress Efficiency indeed!

She climbed into bed and gave the blameless pillows a vicious thump. She’d better not have

designs on becoming any other kind of mistress or she’d have Mary McCall to contend with.

‘I’m so sorry to disturb you so late Andrew.’

Maggie seemed genuinely contrite as she stood before him and Andrew hid a smile as he

watched her. He’d heard the uneasiness in Mary’s voice and knew exactly what it meant.

Perhaps jealousy was inevitable in a union as passionate as theirs. He’d be feeling every bit

as jagged if Mary was alone in a hotel bedroom with another man, no matter how innocent

the circumstances. But Mary would realise she had little to fear if she could see his Personal

Assistant right now. Her dressing gown was designed for maximum modesty, covering her

from neck to toe, her face was scrubbed clean of make-up and she’d twisted her long red hair

into a thick plait. She definitely hadn’t come to his room with seduction on her mind.

‘I just wanted to check a few things with you before tomorrow’s meeting. No, don’t get

up.’ She waved one hand as he made to rise from the bed. ‘I’ll bring a chair over.’

She apparently hadn’t noticed he was halfway to being undressed so he shrugged off his

first instinct to button up his shirt. The sight of his naked chest was hardly likely to send her

into a lustful frenzy.

She sat down and laid an open book on the bed. ‘There’s something here I particularly

want you to take a look at.’ As she leaned forward the tie-belt on her dressing gown came

undone, allowing it to fall open. She was naked underneath the thick material, her breasts just

inches from his hands. He tried to drag his eyes away but couldn't help noticing – and

appreciating - their lush pertness.

She made no move to cover herself and he could feel her blue eyes watching him,

challenging him to resist looking – to resist touching. A warm, heavy scent wafted over him

and he realised she was wearing perfume – a particularly musky one. The senses stirred

earlier by Mary’s playful teasing in the telephone came vividly back to life, yet they were

tinged by something darker – something he couldn’t define. Then, with a sense of profound

shock, he knew what it was. He was repelled by this woman, but not just because she was

coming on to him when she knew he was married. It went far deeper than that, reaching into

his soul and touching memories beyond his grasp.

‘Look Maggie I’m sorry,’ he said abruptly. ‘I’m too tired to make sense of any of this right

now. Let’s have an early breakfast and sort it out then.’

She jerked her head back and the movement loosened the heavy plait, sending her long

rippling red hair cascading about her face. For a fleeting second he saw acid bitterness in her

face, then it was gone.

‘Whatever you say Andrew.’ She made no move to tidy her hair or cover her nakedness.

‘I’m always prepared to do whatever you say.’

He shuddered as she left the room, then wondered at the violence of his own reaction.

He’d been in similar positions before. Women had come onto him before, sometimes with

even greater determination not to take no for an answer. He’d always managed to parry even

the most blatant advances with tact, never seriously tempted to cheat on Mary. He’d felt

many things in the process – amusement, curiousity, maybe even if he was honest, the

occasional faint twinge of regret. But he’d never felt tainted – as he did now.

The following morning she was waiting for him in the hotel dining room and he was almost

able to convince himself he’d imagined the previous evening and its strangely dark scenario.

She was back to her old smoothly efficient self, outlining the busy schedule she’d arranged

for that day, reminding him of various salient points he needed to be aware of. But as he

finished his second cup of coffee, she looked at him, her features strangely empty of

expression.

‘I don’t believe you’ll need me on the rest of this trip,’ she said. ‘And in fact I’m sorry to

spring this on you so suddenly, but I’ve been offered another job. And I’ve accepted.’

‘I see.’ He laid down his cup. ‘When do you want to leave?’

‘Straight away.’ There was defiance in the tilt of her chin. ‘I’d like you to waive the

customary month’s notice.’

He felt relief rather than annoyance. Maggie’s sudden departure would cause problems for

several members of staff, and himself most of all. Yet he had no desire to ask her to

reconsider.

‘I’m proposing to return home today and spend tomorrow in the office tying up loose

ends. Will that suit?’

He nodded. He should tell her he’d be sorry to lose her – the usual spiel when an employee

moved on – but the words stuck in his throat.

‘I hope you find what you’re looking for Maggie.’ It was the best he could manage.

She smiled. ‘I’m sure I shall Andrew. I’m quite sure I shall.’

Far, far away, further than human eyes can see, the Watchers watched, one jubilant, one

grave.

‘It’s going to be all right!’ the younger man crowed delightedly. ‘Maggie’s giving in. This

time Mary’s going to win.’

His silver-haired companion shook his head. ‘I’m not so sure. The greed and avarice

which ruled Maggie in her previous life are still with her now and every bit as strong. Perhaps

stronger. I don’t believe she’s given up without a fight.’

The young man turned on him in a blaze of impotent fury. ‘Then this time we must do

something! We can’t let her destroy Mary all over again. And don’t tell me as you did before

that Mary will have her time. This IS her time – don’t let Maggie take it away from her all

over again.’

The older man sighed. Tinkering with fate was strictly and utterly forbidden. His job was

merely to observe and ensure no freak of nature or circumstance interrupted the Great Plan.

But he too was tired of tragedy.

‘We can’t do anything,’ he said heavily. ‘We can only watch.’

Andrew was dog-tired when he finally reached home, worn-out from days of endless

meetings and negotiations. He went quietly into the bedroom, smiling as he saw Mary fast

asleep. Watching the moonlight play over her long, luxuriant hair he remembered the way his

stomach muscles had clenched the first time they’d met. He’d looked into those blue eyes and

known a sense of recognition, though he knew for certain they’d never met before. Unless it

had been in a past life of course. He grinned at his own uncharacteristic flight of fancy and

drew the curtains before slipping beneath the covers, reaching hungrily for his sleeping wife.

She turned to him as he’d known she would, murmuring his name huskily.

‘Oh honey, I’ve missed you.’ He pushed his hands deep into her hair, lifting it from her

neck to press his lips to her soft warm skin, running his hands over the fullness of her breasts,

drawing one sweetly puckered nipple into his mouth. She reached for him in the darkness and

he groaned, feeling her skilful fingers enfold him, his mind dazed by a rush of desire so

strong it threatened to blow him to smithereens. There would be little subtlety in this reunion

of their bodies and no finesse whatsoever but there would be time enough later for languid,

lazy loving. Right now he was simply driven by need, mindless and demanding. He cupped

his hands around the silken curves of her backside and drew her under him, feeling her long

legs twine themselves around his. He buried his face in her lush breasts and breathed in her

perfume. Warm. Heavy. Musky. Mary hated musk.

He reared back, his head spinning, heart racing, barely aware of the ache of brutally

arrested passion. He reached for the bedside lamp and in the soft light, looked down into blue

eyes. The wrong blue eyes.

‘Maggie!’ He gripped her naked shoulders. ‘What have you done with my wife?’

She smiled.’She’s left you. I told her about us.’

He was filled by fury and fear so intense he thought for a moment he might kill her. ‘Us?

There is no us.’

‘There will be now.’ She slid one hand slowly over him. ‘We’re meant to be together

Andrew. We always have been. We always will be.’

He lifted her hand and flung it sharply from him, feeling polluted by her very touch.

‘Where is she?’

Her eyes glittered with malevolent triumph. ‘You’re too late.’

He leapt from the bed, grabbing a towelling robe from the hook on the door as he ran. He

flung open doors, switched on lights, gazed frantically round empty rooms that held no clues,

his terror growing greater by the second. At last only the cellar remained – the dark, gloomy

cellar. He all but fell down its stone steps, flicking the light switch, labouring to breathe as his

gaze darted into every corner. She wasn’t there. Sweet heaven, what had that bitch from hell

done with his beloved wife?

He turned to leave, his heart near to breaking with despair, then spotted the trunk. Old,

heavy-lidded, big enough to hold a wardrobe full of clothes. Or a body. He reached it in one

leap, wrenching it open, feeling icy horror flood his veins as he saw Mary, bound and gagged,

as white as death. He lifted her from the trunk and fell to his knees, cradling her still body as

he pulled the cruel gag from her bloodless lips. He rocked her in his arms, crazed by guilt and

grief. He wanted to throw back his head and howl his pain like a mortally wounded animal,

but instead he kissed her soft and bruised mouth, then clutched her to his chest as though his

own vital warmth and strength could somehow transmit themselves to her.

The faintest whisper touched his skin and he looked down into her face, hardly daring to

breathe as he was gripped by a last desperate surge of hope.

‘Andrew.’ Her voice was barely audible. ‘I knew you’d save me. This time.’

Far, far away the young Watcher leapt to his feet, punching the air in triumph.

‘Yes! He did it! But only just in time! If it hadn’t been for that perfume he might actually

have made love to that fiend of a woman, and then it might have been too late for Mary when

he finally did find her. Thank God he realised it was Maggie’s perfume.’ He sobered

suddenly, his eyes narrowing as he was struck by a new thought. ‘But we watched Maggie

getting ready to go to Mary’s house,’ he said slowly. ‘And she wasn’t wearing perfume.’

The faintest hint of a smile touched the older man’s mouth.

‘Wasn’t she?’ he said mildly. ‘Then it must be true what they say – Fate really can play

strange tricks sometimes. Don’t you think?’