Free Unguarded Moment by Sara Craven Page B

enabled her to tolerate Monty's resentment and Bianca's swift and not always kind changes of mood.
    Up to a few weeks ago she had known a kind of security, until a man with a lean, dark face and cool scornful eyes had made her realise that her shell was no protection after all, that in reality she was still as vulnerable as a child. It was not a comforting realisation. She also had to face the fact that no matter how determinedly she might put all thought of Liam Brant out of her mind, he was not so easily disposed of. And every time she thought of him, her hands and body grew cold, and all her blood seemed to concentrate in some weird way in her face in a burning flush. It was a reaction she couldn't explain, because in her heart she knew she didn't want to consider the implications of such an explanation.
    At least the Italian trip would give her something else to think about, she told herself, and wished she could have felt more reassured.
     
    The flight got off to a hectic start. The Press, duly primed by Seb, were out in force. Alix supposed by this time she should be used to the questions, the flashing bulbs which usually attended Bianca's arrivals and departures at the world's international airports. Bianca Layton was news—and the fact that she had accepted an invitation to stay at Carlo Veronese's villa was hot news, although the statement Seb had prepared was playing the whole thing very cool. It said simply that Bianca was flying to Italy for a much needed holiday, and dismissed all speculation about the role of Francesca as unfounded and premature.
    The statement hadn't pleased Bianca very much. She felt the triumph was hers and wished to savour it, but at last she reluctantly agreed it might be better to delay any announcement until the contract was signed, and that being so she played the part Seb had assigned to her for all she was worth.
    She looked amazingly beautiful, Alix thought detachedly. Nor was it a question of bone structure and expert therapy. The appearance of a camera—any camera—effected a kind of alchemy. She seemed illuminated from within in some mysterious way. And today she was all charm and graciousness too, without a hint of the petulance which had sometimes soured her relations with the Press. It was an enchanting performance, and Alix, standing the usual discreet distance away with Monty, silently applauded.
    The impromptu press conference was just beginning to break up when one journalist said, 'What's going to happen about the authorised biography of you, Miss Layton? I understand preliminary work has already started.'
    Bianca's smile was radiant. She said, 'I think that's also a little premature. Anything of that nature will have to be postponed indefinitely, of course. I shall be far too busy in the coming months, I'm afraid.'
    And that was it, Alix thought, fascinated. Another problem solved, another cloud banished from her particular sky with a wave of the hand. Liam Brant had been relegated to the unimportant with a few casual words. She must be totally sure, totally secure in her power over him. She must have him eating out of her hand.
    Their flight was being called, and Bianca was on her way, posing for last pictures, and calling smiling farewells to the columnists she knew by name. Alix noticed that Peter was not among them. He was probably licking his wounds somewhere, she thought, and could even feel sorry for him.
    No one gave Monty and herself even a second glance as they followed Bianca at the same discreet distance to the aircraft.
    The separation continued on the plane. Bianca and Leon were ensconced in the first class cabin, while Alix found herself in an adjoining seat to Monty in the second class accommodation.
    She was thankful that it wasn't a long flight. She'd found herself in the same situation on several of the Transatlantic crossings, and Monty had hardly spoken a word to her. This time she was prepared; she had brought a book to read in her hand luggage. As