by Penny Jordan
‘I laughed when I heard Rivers had ditched you and married someone else. Can you believe that?’
‘Very easily,’ Philippa told him dryly. She was both fascinated and revolted by what he had become. Knives of fear and panic twisted in her stomach and she wanted to protest that he was wrong to feel so bitter; that she had acted purely out of love for him and nothing else. Where had it all gone so wrong? His grandfather had been so sure he would marry Mary, it hurt to think that she had given him up for nothing. Perhaps if she had been older she would have seen that he could never be a man to do another’s bidding but she had been young and very, very frightened. She had thought of herself as some dreamy novelette heroine, sacrificing her own happiness for that of her lover, but all she had done was sacrifice both of them… no, all three of them, she thought, remembering Simon’s pale, unhappy face.
‘I’ll have to get in touch with Simon’s school and arrange to sub-let our flat… I’ve already spoken to my boss, but.…’
‘You can do all that from the house. I’ll drive you down to the school this afternoon. Simon can come with us. Does he know whose son he is?’ he asked stunning her. It was several seconds before she could get her breath.
‘Yes,’ she managed, telling the truth. ‘He does know.’
‘And he’s forgiven you?’ His lips twisted. ‘It seems to me that Simon and I have something in common, you’ve cheated us both.’
More in common than he could possibly know, Philippa thought half-hysterically, glad when Simon came back downstairs, his eyes brightening when they fell on the car parked outside.
‘Can I go and have a look at it?’ The question was for Scott and not her, Philippa realised bitterly, wondering how on earth Scott was blind enough to ignore the almost startling resemblance between them when they were together, and wondering how long it would be before less prejudiced eyes did see it.
‘You can look, but don’t touch.… I don’t want that wrecking as well,’ Scott cautioned dryly, watching Simon’s thin face flush.
‘If you’re ready, we’ll go,’ he told Philippa, ‘I’ll send someone down to collect your stuff later.’
She had no option but to follow him outside, Simon bounding ahead of them, admiring the sleek lines of the car from every angle and then bombarding Scott with questions about its performance once they were installed inside. For once Philippa was glad of her son’s excited chatter. It kept Scott’s attention away from herself, and only she knew of the inner tightening of her nerves as Garston Hall approached, its chimneys visible over its protective circle of trees and then the front façade itself.
It hadn’t changed, the same grey weathered stone still standing foursquare, the diamond leaded windows staring out towards the hills. Two wings protruded from the main block of the house, and Philippa remembered that these had been closed off when she had visited the Hall before. Now the windows sparkled and curtains flapped gently in the breeze. She half turned to Scott, about to voice her surprise, but he forestalled her saying coolly, ‘One of the benefits of owning your own company—and a profitable one at that. I’ve been able to re-open both wings. One of them now houses the head office of the company, the other is used for any business associates I might have visiting me, and there’s also a leisure complex there for the use of both staff and guests. The main block I have retained for my own use.’
‘You live there alone?’ What on earth had prompted her to blurt that out?
‘Why? Thinking you might take up where you left off?’ His eyes slid to Simon, who was listening to their conversation although his face was averted. ‘Not completely. My mother lives with me and her companion, as to the rest…’ his mouth curved in a humourless smile, ‘sometimes I live alone and sometimes I don’t, does that answer your question?’
CHAPTER THREE
‘THIS way.’ Scott preceded them across the flagged area at the front of the hall, indicating a door in the East wing which was new to Philippa. Simon lagged behind, scowling darkly, and Philippa suppressed a rush of sympathy. Poor Simon; what had he expected, that Scott would immediately recognise him as his son? It was unfortunate that Simon should have seen his birth certificate, and the blame lay with her for naming Scott as his father in the first place, but she had been so distressed after Simon’s birth, so lonely, so aching for Scott’s presence, that she had given his name quite automatically, still drowsy from Simon’s birth, barely aware of what she was doing.
Once they were inside the building and Scott was describing the work his company was engaged on Simon’s attitude changed. As far as Philippa was concerned it was all way above her head, although she couldn’t help admiring the way what she remembered as vast, empty rooms had been transferred into a luxury office suite. A smiling receptionist acknowledged their arrival and from there Scott had shown them round the other offices, Simon drinking in every word he said, asking questions which brought a quick frown of surprise to Scott’s forehead and a curt, ‘He’s extremely bright,’ in an aside to her when he saw that Simon’s attention was elsewhere.
‘What did you expect? That because he was my child he would be dim?’ How angry he was making her with his hateful assumptions. Couldn’t he see what was screamingly obvious to her? Couldn’t he recognise himself in Simon?
‘This is where most of the real work is done.’ It was a large room running the length and breadth of the wing, on the second floor, full of banks of computers and other pieces of equipment all totally incomprehensible to Philippa, but Simon was pouncing on them with glee, studying them with a keen-eyed fascination that drew smiles from the two young men working busily among the equipment.
‘This is where we test out the new equipment. It isn’t manufactured here of course. That’s done in our factory near York, but we perform most of the field tests on the equipment here.’ Simon interrupted with several questions which Scott answered, both of them involved in a discussion far too technical for Philippa to begin to follow. ‘You’re interested in this sort of thing I take it?’
‘He’s interested in anything he can take apart and put back together again,’ Philippa said wryly, remembering the first time she had come home and found their ancient television set in bits.
‘Umm, not something he’s inherited from Rivers,’ Scott remarked acerbically to her whilst Simon’s back was turned. ‘As I recall he was quite happy to play the playboy on what daddy had earned.’ Before she could make a retort, he added, ‘We’ll leave Simon here and I’ll show you my own suite, it’s on the next floor.’
She had expected something even more luxurious than the suite of offices on the ground floor but to her astonishment Scott’s office was almost monastic in appearance. Another office led into it, and this would be hers, he told her, gesturing to the banked telephones and the word processor on the desk. ‘My previous secretary couldn’t stand the isolation of working here, and I need someone experienced enough for me to rely on. I have to go abroad quite frequently, and it will be up to you to take care of things when I’m gone.’
‘You trust me to be able to?’
There was a wealth of fine irony in her voice, but Scott didn’t take her up on it, merely saying, ‘You come very highly recommended. You’ve worked for Sir Nigel, who’s reputed to be one of the hardest-headed businessmen around. I don’t think he pays you simply to sit around looking pretty.’
‘How long do you intend to keep me here?’ Philippa demanded, reminding him that she wasn’t here of her own free will. ‘Until you can find another secretary?’
‘As long as it takes,’ he told her unequivocally, ‘and remember, Philippa, whilst you’re here you’ll fulfil any role I give you, that was part of the deal.’
What exactly did he have in mind? Philippa wondered as he showed her the Directors’ dining room and the conference room which lay beyond his own. Last night when he had given her his ultimatum she had seen in his eyes a look which had stripped her body of every shred of clothing she had worn, and which had committed even wo
rse outrages against her, but she had put his violence down to his shock at seeing her, dismissing it in the calm light of morning as no more than a trick of her fevered imagination. Now she wasn’t so sure. Scott ached to humiliate her as he thought she had once humiliated him and she would be a fool if she tried to deny that fact.
‘I’ll show you the other wing. It’s this way.’
A long gallery connected the two wings, and the doors which Philippa remembered as once opening on to the main body of the Hall and the family’s living quarters had been sealed off, apparently, because the wall was now blank, presumably to ensure that Scott had privacy when he retired to his own part of the house.
‘Did you plan to do this when you… when you left for America?’ she asked him, feeling slightly foolish when he turned and subjected her to an ice-cold, acerbic glare.
‘I wasn’t in any mood to plan anything,’ he flung at her bitterly. ‘I was aching too much from what you had done to me, Philippa. No, it was only when my grandfather died that I realised I might have a chance of getting the Hall back. I was doing quite well then, but it wasn’t until two years ago that the company was doing well enough for me to buy it.’
They had reached the door at the end of the gallery and he pushed it open, standing back so that she could precede him. The doorway was narrow and Philippa felt the hairs on her arms stand on end as she brushed past his suit-clad body, the violent response of her nerve endings to his proximity so totally unexpected that it threw her off balance, both physically and mentally, and she was glad that she had her back to Scott for the few seconds it took her to get herself back under control.
What was the matter with her, for heaven’s sake? She wasn’t seventeen any longer. She had met many handsome and sexy men since she left Garston but none of them had affected her in the way that Scott had just done. Neither had he eleven years ago, but then she had trusted and loved him with innocence and inexperience, now she was immediately wary of the undeniably physical response of her body to his, her sense relaying to her the total maleness of him, the faintly arousing scent of his body whenever he came close to her, the diabolical ease with which her mind supplied her with an image of his unclothed body, even to the extent of adding the changes that time would have brought, turning’ him from a boy to a man.
She had to stop thinking like this. What was the matter with her? Had she gone crazy? How he would gloat if he knew what she was thinking. It was computers he made, not spells, she reminded herself wryly, and if she was acutely aware of him the responsibility for that was hers, and not his. He had done nothing to excite that awareness, and if she was wise she would do nothing to increase it.
She kept silent as he showed her over the West wing, now converted into five guest rooms each with their own private bathroom, a communal dining room, plus another room furnished for relaxation with large settees and a television. On the ground floor was the sports complex Scott had mentioned; an indoor squash court, a room with a snooker table, a conservatory complete with a huge swimming pool, and beyond it the outdoor tennis courts.
‘It isn’t easy getting the right kind of staff to work somewhere as isolated as this, so we have to provide a few inducements and of course they always come in handy when we’re entertaining potential customers. I’ve got some due any day now as it happens, Americans to whom I’m hoping to sell the new computer we’re working on.’
‘Where will Simon and I be staying?’ Philippa asked him as he walked towards the entrance. Sunlight splashed in through it, blinding her for a moment and she would have stumbled if Scott hadn’t reached out to steady her. His fingers burned the bare flesh of her arm beneath the cuff of her short-sleeved t-shirt and she snatched it away from him, flushing furiously as his mouth compressed. ‘You’re both staying in the house with me. This way.’
The entrance hall was much as she remembered it, although now the parquet floor was properly polished as was the round table adorned with an attractive display of flowers. The doors to the right and left of the hall led to the drawing room and library respectively as Philippa already knew. To the rear of the hall a pair of matching doors led to the dining room and a small sitting room with the kitchen to the rear. ‘I did away with all those small rooms and had the kitchen modernised. It made it much easier to get staff for one thing.’
‘You say your mother is living with you?’
‘Yes. I needed someone to take charge of the domestic side of things for me, although mother says I ought to get married. She complains that it’s too much for her, even though she has Claire, her companion, to help her.’
‘She had her operation then?’
‘Yes.’ His voice was terse as he added, ‘Much you would care. Was that why you ran to Rivers, Philippa? Did the thought of being burdened with an invalid mother-in-law as well as an out-of-work husband frighten you too much?’
‘It’s over, Scott.’ Philippa tried to sound calm and in control. ‘I wish you could accept that, for your own sake.’
‘For your sake, don’t you mean? How does it feel, knowing that you’re completely within my power, and knowing how you destroyed me? Doesn’t it frighten you, Philippa, thinking what I might do?’
‘I can’t help it if you have a chip on your shoulder, Scott.’
‘I can’t help it,’ he mimicked savagely, grasping her shoulders and swinging her round to face him. His eyes were dark and burning, just as she remembered them from the day she told him that she couldn’t marry him and why. ‘Don’t give me that, you two-faced little bitch. Whose fault do you think it is that I’m carrying this “chip” as you call it? Well?’ He was shaking her almost violently, letting her go so suddenly that Philippa staggered back against the panelling, jolting her shoulder so painfully that she had to suppress a cry of pain.
‘Hurt, did it?’ Scott asked succinctly, ‘Don’t try deceiving yourself, Philippa, I’m not the soft-hearted fool you tricked so easily with your soft voice and hands, I’ll enjoy inflicting pain on you. I ache to see you hurting… ache.…’
‘This will be your room.’ They were upstairs, and Philippa quelled a feeling of stepping back in time as Scott flung open a door. Nothing had changed, the room was exactly as she remembered it, his room. Her eyes were glued to the bed. Scott’s bed, an ancient fourposter. She shivered, as memories swept back over her. Scott kissing her, Scott undressing her, Scott making love to her, worshipping her shy body with his tender mouth and hands, just as she had worshipped his.
‘But this is your room.’ She hadn’t realised she had said the words until she saw the bitter contempt in Scott’s eyes.
‘So you remember it then? I thought you would have been in so many since you might not recognise it. It was my room, Philippa; after what you did to me I couldn’t bear to sleep here any longer. It made me sick to remember taking you here, feeling your body’s response to me whilst all the time it was all a meaningless lie from a little slut who thought she was exchanging her virginity for a wealthy secured future, and who ran out on me the minute she discovered the truth. My grandfather told me, you see,’ he said quietly, unleashing the savagery of his anger as she turned towards him, mystified by what he was saying. ‘He told me that he sent for you and told you he would disinherit me, and he told me how you demanded money from him, how you told him that you would find another lover, someone rich enough to support you in the style your greedy, amoral little heart craved. He laughed at me when I said I didn’t believe him. Here in this room he took my pride and broke it, after you’d confirmed to me what I’d told him were malicious lies. Can you wonder that I couldn’t sleep in here any longer?
‘But you will, Philippa, and when you do I’ll be praying that you’ll be visited by the ghosts of the people we once were, because if there was nothing else there was pleasure between us, and I bet I could take your beautiful, faithless body now and pleasure it until you were ready to promise me anything. You see it wasn’t only computers I learned about in the States.’
She wasn’t going to respond as he expected her to. She wouldn’t cry, or lose her temper, she wasn’t going to pander to the need to draw blood she could sense building up inside him, and he would never know what it cost her to walk over to the window and say calmly, ‘If this is my room, where is Simon’s?’
‘On the next floor.’ He saw her glancing at the secondary door set into the wall and smiled mirthlessly. ‘Ah yes, that door leads to my room. You see I didn’t move very far away.’ He saw her eyes go to the lock and laughed softly, ‘And yes, I do have the key. Like I said, whilst you’re here you’ll perform whatever duties I might require of you.’
‘I won’t sleep with you, Scott.’ She said it positively, not giving in to the terror she could feel stalking her, invading the room, cloaking her in ice-chilled fear.
‘You won’t be asked to,’ he assured her as he turned towards the door. ‘I’m going to my office. You can have the rest of the day off to get settled in. Dinner is at eight, you needn’t bother to dress.’
‘Is it all right if I use the phone?’
‘Why?’ Something flickered in the back of his eyes, something hot and dangerous. ‘Who do you want to ring? One of your lovers?’
‘Simon’s school.’ She was struggling to hold on to her self-control to beat off the miasma of apprehension she could feel enshrouding her.
‘Very well. I’ve already spoken to Dr Philipps and he’s agreed to take Simon on as a pupil. No doubt it won’t be long before his fellow pupils know of his illustrious paternity. You can’t hide a thing like that in a village this size.’
Something in his bitterness destroyed her hard-won self-control. Without being aware of it Philippa took a step towards him, her body tense, her fingers curled tightly into her palms. ‘If you do anything to hurt my son, I swear I will kill you, even if I have to do it with my bare hands. You can try to punish me as much as you like, but if you hurt Simon.…’
‘What’s the matter? You’ve said he knows who his father is?’