by Penny Jordan
‘You want to humiliate me, don’t you?’ Sour bile rose in her throat. What on earth had happened to her last night? She had known how much he wanted to hurt her, but she had let him storm through her defences; she had shown him how easily he could arouse her; how much she still… still loved him? Surely not?
‘As you once humiliated me,’ Scott reminded her. He raised his arm and glanced at his watch. ‘It’s eight o’clock, if you intend to be in the office for nine you’d better get up.’ When Philippa glanced pointedly at him he leaned back against the pillows, his hands behind his head. The sheet had slipped down to reveal the tawny warmth of his skin, faint marks marring its smoothness on his shoulder where in her passion she had bitten him. Her own body was no doubt similarly bruised, and a wave of heat swept over her as memories of the night surged into her mind. ‘I can’t get dressed until you leave.’
‘You mean you don’t want to. You forget, Philippa, that I’m the boss, and I have no need to be at my desk at nine. It’s up to you entirely, I’m quite happy to stay here all day, but I don’t imagine you want Simon to come looking for you a second time. He’s very easily shocked for a boy of his age and—er—experience, isn’t he?’
His mockery of her son was the last straw. Philippa slid from the bed, too angry to care about her nudity, or the way Scott watched her as she walked over to the wardrobe. Her body was still sleek and supple, her breasts fuller than they had been when she was seventeen, her body more voluptuous, her skin pale and satiny, unconscious allure in the way she moved.
Something in the quality of the silence stilled her. She glanced round and saw that Scott was watching her intently. A silent message passed between their bodies, hers responding to it immediately, Scott’s eyes smouldering hotly. He wanted her! She checked the heady feeling of power the knowledge gave her and gathered up her clean clothes.
‘So it was Rivers who filled your mind last night was it?’ Scott said softly, ‘But I was the one who possessed your body, Philippa.’
‘So you did.’ She wasn’t seventeen now and he wasn’t going to quell her by reminding her of how vulnerable she was to him physically. ‘But it’s generally accepted among experts that the most powerful human sexual stimulant comes from the mind.’
‘Meaning?’ He said it softly, but there was no mistaking his banked-down rage.
Philippa glanced at the bathroom door and edged towards it, flinging over her shoulder, ‘Meaning that I allowed my imagination to tell me that it wasn’t you who touched me but Geoff. Now do you understand, or do I have to go on?’
She was in the bathroom, with the door locked securely behind her, before he could respond. She showered slowly, letting the water run over her skin, trying to blot out feelings and sensations from the night before. She still loved Scott. He had changed, almost beyond belief, but there was still something there, something which drew her with a compulsion she had never felt for anyone else. She had wanted him to make love to her, shaming though it was for her to admit it, and if Simon hadn’t arrived when he did this morning he would have made love to her again. Despite her mental tension her body felt irritatingly relaxed; so lethargic and indolent that she felt like two separate people, her mind completely detached from her body, and fiercely resenting its voluptuous pleasure in Scott’s lovemaking.
When she emerged from the bathroom he had gone and the communicating door was closed. Heaving a faint sigh of relief she went downstairs, wondering what on earth she could say to Simon. He was having his breakfast when she walked into the dining room, and greeted her rather off-handedly.
She had finished her grapefruit and was drinking her coffee when he fired the first salvo, blurting out, ‘Why do we have to live here, why couldn’t we have stayed in the cottage?’
‘Because that’s the way Mr Garston wanted it,’ she replied formally, colouring hotly when she saw the arrogant disbelief in his eyes. ‘Simon, our being here is not by my choice,’ she assured him hotly. ‘You know that. If you hadn’t had that accident with his car.…’ She bit her lip. It was no good blaming Simon for what had happened.
‘Why was he in bed with you this morning?’ Simon watched her steadily, ‘Have you told him about me?’
‘No. Oh, Simon.…’ She pushed tired fingers through her hair, how on earth could she explain to him? ‘I’ve got to work this morning, we’ll talk about it later.…’
‘Do you still love him?’ He wasn’t looking at her, his attention concentrated on the floor, and Philippa drew in a short sharp sigh. What on earth could she say? She had always tried to be truthful with him, and had always congratulated herself on their open relationship, but she was quickly discovering she had been living in a dream world. He had never told her for instance that he knew about his father. ‘Yes… yes, I do,’ she said shakily, ‘but we can’t talk about it now.’
‘Is he still very angry with you?’
She seized on the excuse gratefully, ‘Yes, Simon, he is and that’s why he was in my room this morning. You see he feels that he must punish me because.…’
‘Because you left him?’
‘Yes,’ Philippa agreed thankfully. ‘Something like that. I’ll have to take you up to the school soon, so that you can meet the headmaster.…’
‘It’s closed for half term,’ Simon told her. ‘Scott told me when I asked him.’
‘Scott?’ Her eyebrows rose, ‘Wouldn’t Mr Garston be more polite?’
‘He is my father.’ His face was sullen again and Philippa bit back a small exclamation. Everything was getting out of hand, running away from her. ‘I’ve got to go to work now, Simon. I’ll see you at lunch time. What will you do with yourself whilst I’m gone?’
‘I’m going to watch them working on the new computer. Scott said I could,’ he added defensively, ‘and I want to. I like him,’ he added stubbornly, ‘even if he doesn’t like you any more.’
CHAPTER FIVE
TO her relief Philippa was too busy to spare any time on her own problems, and as the morning progressed she recognised that Scott hadn’t lied about his need of a secretary. The previous girl seemed to have had little or no idea about filing, and Philippa found that she was kept busy simply sorting through the backlog of mail and familiarising herself with all the different systems.
Hank came in and showed her how to use the word processor, which thankfully she soon managed to pick up. He was congratulating her on this when Scott walked out of his own office and told Philippa curtly that if she had time to waste gossiping she could use it to make him a cup of coffee and take some dictation. He was no more difficult to work for than her previous boss, or at least he wouldn’t have been were it not for her continual awareness of him as a man. While he seemed to be able to shut off the personal side of their relationship while they were working she could not. She was constantly aware of him, every sense heightened by his proximity. He had only to reach out towards her to take a file, or answer the phone and she was tensing in physical awareness, remembering what his body had felt like against her own, her mind full of disturbing visions of him.
At twelve o’clock her outer door opened and Cara Laine walked in. The American girl was dressed expensively in a soft linen suit which Philippa thought privately was a little too old for her, like her hairstyle and glossy make-up. She gave Philippa a cold stare and said, ‘No need to announce me, Scott is expecting me, we’re lunching together.’ She walked over to the inner door and opened it, calling out sweetly, ‘It’s only me, darling. I’ve come to collect you for lunch.… I spoke to daddy this morning,’ Philippa heard her say as the door was closed. ‘He’s very keen to come and see you.…’
Was Cara’s father as keen for a marriage between Scott and his daughter as Cara herself was, Philippa wondered, and then marvelled at the power of the mind over the body. She felt acutely sick at the thought, cold nausea seeping through her body. Scott marrying Cara, she couldn’t endure it. She didn’t look up when she heard the door open, although she was actually conscious
of Scott as he walked past her desk, his fingers cupping Cara’s elbow, his dark head angled attentively towards her. Did he enjoy taking her to bed, she wondered savagely, impaled on the spears of her own jealousy and hating herself for the intimacy of her thoughts. She had never felt like this about anyone, never; in the past Scott had not given her any cause for jealousy and she didn’t like the discovery that she was capable of feeling it so intensely.
Damn Scott, and damn Cara Laine, Philippa thought impotently half an hour later, wrenching yet another piece of paper from her machine. Hank walked in just as she was putting it in her wastepaper bin and grinned humourously, ‘Lack of blood sugar, that’s what’s the matter with you. How about joining me for lunch? The pub in the village do really good plain food.’
‘Sorry I can’t,’ Philippa told him with a smile, ‘I’m having lunch with Simon.’
‘Umm. Nice kid, he was making himself useful in the computer room this morning. He’s got a very receptive mind. Dave, our technician, was most impressed.’
‘Yes, computers and motorbikes are the loves of his life at the moment. Scott’s gone out,’ she added awkwardly, ‘with Cara… for lunch.…’
‘She’s probably heard the best way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I expect it’s the first time she’s come up against any resistance to her daddy’s almighty dollar. Cara’s been brought up with the idea that anything Cara wants, Cara gets. Her father is a widower and he dotes on her.’
‘And you don’t? Philippa guessed speculatively.
‘She’s eighteen for God’s sake and acts like she’s going on for thirty. If she doesn’t quit playing around she’s going to get hurt.’
‘And that matters to you?’ Philippa guessed. His thin features flushed. ‘Yeah, it would.’ He pushed his fingers wearily through his hair. ‘Guess you must think me all kinds of a fool, it’s plain she’s got her sights set on Scott.’
‘But Scott doesn’t want to marry, or so you said?’
‘No,’ he agreed dryly, ‘but he’s a man like any other and knowing the way Cara’s mind works, she probably thinks it’s only a short step from his bedroom to the altar. Don’t forget, Scott needs that contract from her father, and she isn’t above using a little coercion.’
Her head was aching half an hour later when she left the office. She had worked hard all morning, but the moment she stopped her thoughts were immediately occupied by all her problems. She still had Simon to face, although he had seemed to accept the brief explanation she had given him this morning. She was gnawing on her bottom lip when she walked into the main block.
Mrs Robinson looked up and smiled when she walked into the kitchen. What did Scott’s housekeeper think about her presence in the house? None of Scott’s other employees lived in. Was she the subject of gossip and speculation in the village?
‘Young Simon’s outside with Mrs Garston,’ Mrs Robinson told her. ‘Round in the walled garden they are I think, Mrs Garston likes it there, it’s sheltered and warm. It’s her companion’s day off today, but she and Simon seemed to be getting on like a house on fire. Still that’s often the way of it, young and old finding a common meeting ground. If you wouldn’t mind telling them that lunch is ready for me. It’s fresh salmon, Mrs Garston’s favourite.’
‘Simon’s too,’ Philippa told her, adding wryly, ‘not that he gets it very often.’ Mrs Robinson didn’t have the local accent, and obviously knew nothing about her and Simon, but Philippa wondered how long it would be before the gossip percolated through and how long before the housekeeper started to glance at her more warily.
She needed no directions to find the walled garden, but nevertheless she listened carefully while Mrs Robinson explained how she could find it. As she crossed the cobbled courtyard at the back of the house and skirted what had once been the stables and were now garages, Philippa marvelled at the changes Scott had wrought. Where there had been neglect and untidiness all was now in order. From the stables a path led through the woods to the home farm. She had trodden it often enough on her way for milk and eggs from the farmer’s wife, just as she had often met Scott in the sanctuary of the woods. In the autumn they were normally let out for the shooting rights, and she wondered if this was something Scott had continued. She could remember quite vividly how he had told her about his plans for the estate, for making it pay, but Computex seemed to have solved all his problems in that direction, and remembering his fierce love of Garston she wondered if he would indeed be prepared to marry Cara Laine to secure the future of Computex. Nothing changed she thought drearily as she walked towards the gate which opened into the walled garden. Eleven years ago she had wondered the same thing about Mary Tatlow. Then she had been wrong, but this time?
She spied her quarry long before they were aware of her presence. Eve Garston sat on an old wooden bench beneath the willow tree, Simon on the ground at her feet, listening raptly to something she was telling him. The smooth grass muted the sound of Philippa’s approach, and she had reached them before either of them realised she was there, Simon’s brief ‘Hi mum,’ mingling with Eve’s pleased, ‘Philippa, how nice, come and sit down beside me and tell me how you are. It’s been so long.…’
‘Eleven years. But I’m afraid I can’t sit. Mrs Robinson has sent me to tell you both that lunch is ready. It’s salmon, so both of you should be pleased,’ she added unthinkingly and then flushed as guiltily as a small child, biting her lip when she saw the thoughtful look Eve Garston gave her. She had always liked Scott’s mother and had felt acutely sympathetic towards her, guessing how she suffered under the domineering rule of her father-in-law. He hadn’t approved of their marriage, or his second son’s career, and she guessed that Eve had been made to suffer for her husband’s defection, although she always seemed serene, despite the appalling pain of her arthritis. Had Eve known of her feeling for Scott? She had been too wrapped up in him at the time to pay much attention to his mother, it had been Scott’s grandfather who had dominated all her anxious thoughts.
She was touched to see how easily Simon went to help Eve to her feet, matching his pace to her slow one. ‘You have a very charming son, Philippa,’ Eve told her with a smile, ‘I’ve enjoyed our talk together.’
‘Mum, Mrs Garston was telling me about her plastic hip joints,’ Simon informed her, ‘and all about her operation.’
‘Not quite as dramatic as it sounds, but oh, the blessed relief from pain. Scott tells me that you’re going to work for him as his secretary.’
‘For a little while. Simon’s headmaster thinks he would do better in a small school environment and when Scott offered me the job.…’
Eve seemed to accept her explanation quite easily but Philippa noticed the way her eyes lingered on Simon while they ate their lunch, and the seemingly innocuous questions she asked Philippa about her life in London, although Philippa noticed she made no reference to her lack of a husband or Simon’s lack of a father, so presumably Scott had told her about Geoff.
‘You must be very proud of Scott,’ Philippa said as they finished their coffee. ‘He’s done very well.’
‘Mm… but I’d rather see him happy than rich. As a mother you will understand that.’
Philippa glanced at Simon’s silky downbent head, his hair so like Scott’s in texture and colour.
‘Yes,’ she agreed sombrely, ‘yes I do.’
The afternoon passed swiftly enough with Scott returning at three to load her down with more dictation but she was glad to be kept busy and out of his sight, hating the elusive traces of Cara’s strong perfume which clung to his jacket, tormenting with images of them kissing, perhaps even.…
Over dinner she met Eve’s companion and instantly liked her. ‘Simon and Philippa are staying at the house while Philippa is working for me,’ Scott explained. ‘It makes things easier all round.’
‘It’s nice to have a young face about the place,’ Eve commented gently, ‘I enjoyed our chat this morning, Simon, perhaps we can talk again tomorrow.’
/>
‘If you like,’ Simon agreed, patently flattered. ‘I could teach you to play draughts tonight, if you want,’ he added. Philippa saw the twinkle in Eve’s eye. ‘I should like that very much,’ she assured him. ‘When shall we start?’
It set the pattern for the days that followed, and although on the surface all was calm and placid Philippa could feel the subtle tension crawling along her nerves. Scott had made no further attempts to enter her bedroom or to touch her in any way. If anything he was extremely remote. Sometimes in the evening he joined them for dinner, although more often he was out, usually with Cara Laine. Simon spent most of his spare time with Eve. He was back at school now and apparently doing well, although once or twice Philippa had caught him scowling darkly.
‘What’s wrong?’ she asked him one night as she tucked him up in bed.
‘It’s that Cara Laine, they’re saying at school that she’s going to marry Dad.’
Philippa sighed, suppressing the words that sprang to her lips. Simon had taken to referring to Scott in this fashion, even though she had told him that he must not. ‘Why not?’ he demanded aggressively now, when she repeated her warning. ‘He is my father, even if you don’t want him to know it. It isn’t fair, I have to pretend that I haven’t got anyone but you, and I have.’
‘Simon.…’ If only she had never come back to Garston none of this would ever have happened. But was she being fair? Simon had known his father’s name and would almost surely one day have wanted to find him. ‘Simon, I know it doesn’t seem very fair, but you have to think of Scott and Eve.…’