Chains of Regret

by Margaret Pargeter

‘A pool!’ she breathed, frowning. ‘But how …?’

  ‘Oh, you know,’ he rejoined coolly, ‘parties by it, that kind of thing.’

  ‘And you didn’t encourage him?’

  Stein said harshly, ‘I didn’t discourage him, once he had the idea firmly fixed in his head it would have been difficult.’

  Helen averted her eyes from his hard, relentless face to gaze over the water.

  ‘It’s heated,’ he said. ‘You can use it any time.’

  It was certainly tempting. Helen had swum a lot in France, where many households boasted a pool. If only she could be sure this hadn’t been installed entirely on Stein’s persuasion, and for his benefit, not hers.

  She hated to think Stein had been feathering his own nest. If her father hadn’t died how much more might he have been persuaded to spend? As always, quick tears came to her eyes when she thought of her father, but she quickly blinked them away. She wanted desperately to be friends with Stein, but he was making it very difficult.

  ‘Aren’t you going to London today?’ She pretended to lose interest in the pool. Suddenly she felt stifled as her thoughts threatened to suffocate her. She needed time to think.

  ‘Not this morning,’ his eyes narrowed slightly, ‘maybe later.’

  Why was he in no hurry? Hadn’t her father so often crowed about Stein’s dedication to duty, the amount of work he was capable of getting through in half the time of other men? As she glanced at him now, at the dark, brooding features stamped by more than a hint of ruthlessness, it wasn’t difficult to believe. What she didn’t understand was his willingness this morning to forget about business and remain by her side.

  He might have forgiven her, but the occasional glimpse of something she sometimes caught in his eyes made her doubt it.

  As they left the barn which housed the pool, she intended returning to the house. ‘I haven’t had breakfast yet,’ she said, suspecting that he had.

  ‘You won’t starve for a few more minutes,’ Stein smiled smoothly. ‘Come and see the horses. There’s a beautiful little filly which Lester was sure would persuade you to take up riding again.’

  Indignation almost overwhelmed Helen as curiosity drove her to accompany Stein to the stables. Her father had only kept one horse, but Stein talked as if the stables were full of them. And they must have discussed her shortcomings pretty thoroughly, along with everything else!

  Helen was startled to count half a dozen horses in the stables, all turning their heads as Stein and she approached. Stein was no stranger to them, she saw immediately, as they whinnied a welcome and nuzzled him with damp noses. Again she was amazed. Before she had gone to France, the stables had been falling down, her father had kept his one mount elsewhere.

  Since then they had obviously been rebuilt.

  ‘It must have cost a fortune!’ she gasped incredulously, exactly as she had done when she had seen the swimming pool.

  ‘Very nearly,’ Stein agreed, shooting out a hand to keep her clamped to his side as she thought of running; He didn’t voice his suspicions but continued about the stables. ‘I saw to having them repaired. No sense in having them falling about our ears.’

  He had been busy! Such diligence—and personal involvement—could only prove one thing, that Stein had hoped she would never return. Her father might have hoped otherwise, but Stein must have been praying she would stay away! All this and his anger when he had met her yesterday was sufficient evidence.

  Even if she hadn’t been looking for any she would have had to be blind not to have seen it!

  ‘Very nice,’ she said dully, her full mouth tightening, in a way which had his twisting sardonically. ‘At least the horses appear to be enjoying themselves. They look well-bred,’ she ran her eyes over them deliberately, ‘they should fetch a good price.’

  ‘You wouldn’t think of selling them?’ he muttered flatly, a faint flush on his cheeks which she immediately put down to guilt.

  ‘Why on earth should I be thinking of keeping them?’ she taunted. ‘You know what I’m like with horses?’

  ‘It’s not that, is it?’ he accused, leaning against an upright spar after throwing her arm away as if he couldn’t bear to touch her any more. His eyes icy grey, he stared down at her. ‘Already you’re converting everything to money, thinking of all this only in terms of cash!’

  ‘Why not?’ she retorted, forgetting to control her anger, feeling incredibly reckless. If he thought money meant that much to her, well, let him!

  He laughed, and it wasn’t a pleasant sound. ‘I imagine the men you lived with in France paid well for the privilege. How many men did you live with, by the way?’ he asked insultingly.

  ‘None.’ She didn’t expect he would believe her.

  He didn’t. ‘You aren’t even capable of telling the truth.’

  Helen turned her back on him then. How could they be friends when he treated everything she said with contempt?

  ‘Don’t do that!’ he jerked her around. ‘Don’t turn your back on me,’ he rasped, ‘I don’t like it.’

  She tried to push him away. ‘And I don’t like you touching me!’

  ‘Once you didn’t think you did, but you do now,’ he threw the truth at her so devastatingly she had to deny it.

  ‘You’re crazy!’ she cried furiously.

  Stein drew her so close she could see the cold sparks in his eyes. ‘Why must you always try and provoke me?’ he muttered, his wrath suddenly matching her own as his lips descended to take hers in a long, cruel kiss.

  Helen didn’t know how long it lasted or when the pressure became almost more than she could bear. He ravished her mouth quite savagely, until she began feeling faint from the fires he lit in her body. The intenseness of raw passion burned through her veins while the tightening of his arms threatened to break her in two.

  Yet strangely she found herself welcoming the molten sensation that fused them together as it hinted at exotic realms to be explored if once she was willing to surrender to theˇ wildness of her emotions. As her arms went around his neck, she could no more have stopped them than she could have denied the discovery of her own deeply sensuous nature. She knew she should be fighting Stein, but instead she found she was having to fight the blind desire within herself to allow him complete domination. Was this frantic inclination to give in to him what she had been frightened of a year ago? she wondered dizzily. Was this what she had really fled from?

  When he let her go she stared at him blindly, realising she might have found the answer to a query which had been puzzling her for months. At the same time another thought came to confuse her as she became aware she was still running. She couldn’t tell Stein she cared for him, because she still didn’t trust him—and she knew he knew it!

  When he smiled slightly at her flushed, uneasy face and suggested casually, ‘It might be a good idea if we got married,’ doubt flashed in Helen’s eyes as she suspected his reasons. A doubt which, from the wry twist of his mouth, he managed to interpret exactly.

  Anger flared within her, swiftly removing all traces of the bewildering lethargy she had known in his arms.

  Whatever she felt, he had no right to joke about it. Of course from his point of view it would be convenient if she could be persuaded to marry him. She was, after all, the source of his income. And from her own angle, how many women would hesitate to take a man like Stein Maddison, regardless of his motives? Few, she suspected, but even if his proposal had been sincere, instead of an obvious feeler put out to see how she would receive it, she couldn’t marry a man she didn’t respect.

  ‘I’m sure there must be an easier solution to your problems,’ she retorted pointedly. ‘. .

  His voice held the hint of cruelty she was beginning to associate him with. ‘The easy way never appealed to me. I wish it did.’

  Helen fixed her eyes on the horses, who between tearing bits of hay continued regarding them curiously as they ate it. She remembered how she had avoided her father’s attempts to teach her to
ride for so long that in the end he had lost patience.

  ‘A son of mine would have been riding like a veteran years ago!’ he had accused the eight-year-old Helen.

  Regardless of her choked protests, he had thrown her on the back of a flighty mare, and it wasn’t until the horse had thrown her off again that he had given up.

  Not even he had been able to fight concussion and a badly broken arm. That was one thing, about her father, she recalled with a bleak sigh, he had never been willing to alienate her completely. He had kept pushing her at obstacles a son might have taken in his stride, and when she failed he had usually lost his temper but drawn back. Whether affection had motivated his brief moments of remorse, or an acknowledgement of her less than masculine strength, Helen never did discover.

  He had never given her any obvious affection and she had never felt close enough to him to find the courage to ask if he loved her. According to Stein he had, and when she had gone away he had missed her.

  ‘What else have you to show me?’ she asked, suppressing a sigh as she turned to Stein with a shrug, meant to indicate that she wasn’t impressed by his last statement.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ his smile deliberately taunted. ‘I had tennis courts laid out in the old kitchen gardens at the back of the house. Do you play tennis, Helen?’

  ‘Seldom in winter,’ she replied, amazed. She wouldn’t ask what more there was; already her digestion was having to work overtime! ‘I suppose it all adds to the value of the property.’

  ‘Naturally,’ he clipped, a flare of irritation in his eyes at the apparent one-track direction of her mind. ‘I wouldn’t set your heart on selling, though. Not until you’ve seen Dent.’

  Why did Stein keep telling her this? It bothered Helen all day. A terrible suspicion gripped her and she wondered why she hadn’t thought of it before.

  Was it possible that her father had left the house to Stein? Could he do that? Surely the law protected a man’s dependants from this kind of thing? But if Stein had persuaded her father to bequeath him the house, why had there been so much done to improve it? No, obviously her father, whatever his faults, had been thinking of her’ all the time. He had been too fond of money to spend it recklessly on anyone else.

  Stein went off early to keep his date with the mysterious Barbara, who Helen had no doubt would also be beautiful. She flushed when she saw him dressed for the evening, realising, as she seemed too frequently to be doing, how good he looked. He told her he would probably stay in London for the night.

  ‘In the flat?’ she asked, feeling it suddenly necessary to know he didn’t intend spending the whole night with Barbara.

  ‘The flat?’

  Was it fair that a man should have such expressive eyebrows? ‘Dad’s flat!’ She tried not to be angry at what she believed to be his deliberate misunderstanding. She knew Stein used it occasionally. She couldn’t recall that he’d ever had a place of his own. He must have done, of course, before he had had the good fortune to bump into her .father, but it probably hadn’t amounted to much.

  ‘Your father gave that up not long after you went away,’ Stein said coolly. ‘I have my own—in the Barbican. I think you would like it. It’s very smart and labour-saving. Everything happens at the push of a button and the views over the City are superb.’

  ‘And expensive!’ Helen heard herself saying waspishly.

  ‘Everything has to be paid for,’ Stein nodded his strong dark head. ‘You must come and see for yourself next time you’re in town.’

  She certainly would! Lowering her thick lashes to hide her increasing suspicions, she grasped the opportunity. ‘I’ll have to go for clothes. Could I come with you?’

  ‘Not this evening.’

  ‘I didn’t mean this evening!’ Did he think she wanted to play gooseberry! ‘Just any time.’

  ‘I shan’t be back until late tomorrow. Business,’ he added sardonically, ‘I’ll ring you, if I get the chance.’

  He touched her cheek, a careless gesture of farewell while his eyes mocked. Yet when a flicker of electricity shot though Helen from the brief contact, he removed his hand as swiftly as she withdrew. He was paler but otherwise controlled, and before she could speak nodded curtly and left, leaving her shivering.

  He might go out with other women, but somehow he still found her rejection hard to take, Helen thought with a hint of bitter satisfaction, thinking this had been the reason for his abrupt departure.

  He did ring next day to confirm that he wouldn’t be home in time for dinner. Helen was actually in bed when he did arrive. She had gone early, hoping to avoid him, and lay pondering on the changes she had found, having grasped the opportunity his absence had offered to thoroughly inspect the house and grounds. Obviously a lot of money had been spent. Oakfield could now be classed as a showplace, and she had discovered two men employed to attend to the gardens alone, as well as a groom looking after the horses.

  They had spoken to her respectfully and soberly, obviously remembering she had just suffered a bereavement, but they hadn’t worn the anxious look of men who feared they were about to lose their jobs.

  Perhaps a new owner would keep them on. The more Helen saw, the more convinced she was there would have to be a new owner. Even if she retained her shares in the company she couldn’t imagine receiving the kind of dividend which might be required to run Oakfield as it now was. Even the wages for the staff might be beyond her.

  She had met the housekeeper, but Mrs Swinden wasn’t the kind of woman she could talk to. Helen had to confess she didn’t like her very much. She seldom took an instant dislike to anyone, but Mrs Swinden’s manner had been little less than insolent. Helen wondered who had hired her. She would have to speak to Stein about her. It might not take long to sell the house, but even a small dose of Mrs Swinden might be too much! The sooner she was gone the better.

  Helen’s heart was heavy. If only one could put the clock back a few years! Her father might never have had much patience, but on’ the whole he hadn’t been too difficult to live with. And, during the last few months she had been here, he had seemed to go out of his way to please her. Now she only had a horrible feeling of guilt which refused to go away, and on top of this everything seemed in such a dreadful muddle. She didn’t even know where she stood with Stein and liked less how he could make her feel, especially when she couldn’t be sure what his motives were.

  The wind howled outside. It had blown all day, frosty and cold, and Helen hoped it wasn’t going to snow.

  It blew around the chimneys, drowning every other sound, so when the door opened without warning she nearly jumped out of her skin. She stared at Stein, her eyes wide.

  ‘What is it?’ she whispered unsteadily. He was wearing a dark jacket and tie and looked extremely well groomed and fit. The energy and vitality in his face made her feel positively wilting, even though she was several years younger than he. He must have dined out again, although it wasn’t late. The last time Helen had glanced at her watch it had only been eleven and he would have been an hour on the road.

  He came in, closing the door, as if entering her room and enclosing them in such privacy wasn’t unusual.

  With Helen’s bewildered eyes on him he came and sat on the edge of her bed. He wasn’t close, perhaps three feet away, but her heart began beating rapidly.

  He returned her stare, his glance sliding to her throat where she suddenly realised her madly beating pulse must be betraying her.

  When he didn’t speak, she placed a nervous hand over it. ‘You gave me a fright,’ she said. ‘You shouldn’t have come here.’

  ‘Why not?’ he gazed at her steadily. ‘Everyone’s in bed.’

  ‘I wasn’t thinking of other people!’ she gasped.

  ‘Surely,’ he mocked, ‘you can’t pretend you’re frightened I might seduce you? I should imagine that happened with some other man, long ago?’

  ‘If you’ve merely come to insult me—’ she began angrily.

  ‘I didn’t thin
k I was,’ he interrupted tauntingly. ‘A lot of girls would take it as a compliment, being judged attractive enough to arouse a man’s desire. As for being able to satisfy it, of course, that’s quite another matter.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  HELEN trembled, her cheeks hot with embarrassment and humiliation as Stein’s contempt flicked her like a whiplash. He had never talked to her like this before.

  He might have teased her, when she had first known him, but always behind his raillery there had been a warm gentleness. Often she had thought he had been determined to protect her from the seamier side of life.

  Now he seemed all set to shock her.

  She stared at him mutinously but decided to accept his insults without protest as part of the sackcloth and ashes course she felt she must tread because of her father.