'We haven't finished talking, Rachel. I...'
She whirled towards David, fighting against the sudden desire to strike him again.
'I won't do anything I haven't your permission to do,' she said coldly. 'You don't have to worry.'
'Rachel, wait...'
'David, please—let the woman do her job.' Vanessa Walters smiled slowly and leaned her head towards his while her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. 'Let's put Abdullah in and then go to your rooms. You can shower while I lay out your things. The blue suit tonight, don't you think? You look so distinguished in that.'
She tilted her face up to David's. Behind them, Abdullah raised his head. A dry leaf, red as blood, clung to his velvet muzzle. Inexplicably, tears stung Rachel's eyes and she turned away quickly and hurried back to the safety of the house. Her room was no longer a prison but a haven.
CHAPTER FIVE
'EMMA? Emma!' Rachel's voice was breathless with indignation as she pushed open the kitchen door.
The housekeeper looked up from a pile of carrot peelings that lay on the chopping block. 'Is something wrong, miss?' she asked mildly.
'Yes, something's wrong. I just put Jamie to bed, and when 1 went back to my room, there was a stack of boxes on the bed.'
The woman arched her eyebrows and nodded. 'Ah, yes. They were delivered earlier this afternoon, while you and Jamie were in the garden. They're from Lord & Taylor.'
'I know where they're from,' Rachel said sharply. 'I can read the labels. Did Mr Griffin send them, Emma?'
The housekeeper shrugged. 'I should think so, miss.'
Rachel nodded grimly. 'Yes, well, he can send them right back. I told Barton to tell Mr Griffin that I wasn't... Please call the store and have them picked up.'
Emma looked down at her hands. 'I'm afraid I can't do that.'
'I'll call, then. I...'
'You can try, miss, but I think they'll want to hear from Mr Griffin first.'
Rachel's eyes narrowed. 'Yes,' she said sharply. 'I suppose they would.'
'May I help you with something else, miss?'
Rachel shook her head. There was no more sense in arguing with Emma than there had been in arguing with Barton earlier that morning, she thought as she stalked back up the stairs to her room. The butler had knocked on her door just past eight a.m.
'Who is it?' she'd asked, glancing at her watch in surprise. Jamie was already in the kitchen with Emma. She had heard the housekeeper in the boy's room almost an hour before.
'Barton,' he had said. 'I have a message for you, Miss Cooper.'
Rachel had opened the door an inch or so. 'Good morning, Barton,' she had said, peering out at him from behind the protective cover of the door. 'What's the message?'
'Good morning, miss,' he said politely. 'Mr Griffin said to ask if you wanted me to bring the car around now or wait until later.'
Rachel's glance took in the man's impassive expression and then skimmed down his dark jacket to his sharply pressed trousers and highly polished shoes. Without thinking, she moved further behind the door, hoping he couldn't see her bare feet or her increasingly disreputable-looking trousers and sweater.
'The car?' she asked blankly. 'What do I want the car for?'
'To go shopping, miss. If you wish to go into Manhattan, we should leave fairly soon. Mr Griffin said I was to take you wherever you preferred, either into the city or somewhere local.'
It was early, Rachel thought fuzzily. Maybe that was why she didn't understand any of this. She smiled tentatively.
'Shopping for what, Barton? Did Mr Griffin say Jamie needed something?' The man shook his head and Rachel frowned. 'Did Emma?'
'I'm to take you shopping for clothes for yourself, Miss Cooper. Mr Griffin thought you might like the new Lord & Taylor branch that opened in a shopping mall down the road.'
'I see.' Rachel's mouth narrowed with determination. 'Tell Mr Griffin I don't want to go to Lord & Taylor. Tell him...'
The man nodded. 'Yes, that was what Miss Walters thought. She said you'd prefer Sears.'
Rachel's eyes lifted to Barton's, but his expression was unreadable. 'Sears?' she asked softly. 'Did she really?' He nodded uncomfortably. 'Well, you can tell Mr Griffin and Miss Walters that they were both wrong,' Rachel said coldly. 'I have no desire to go to either store. I have no wish to buy any clothing. I have my own...' Barton's eyes flickered over her and she flushed. 'My things are in my apartment,' she said. 'In New York.' She caught her lip between her teeth. 'You did offer to drive me to New York, didn't you?' she asked with sudden eagerness. He nodded and she smiled happily. 'Well, that's fine. My apartment's in lower Manhattan. There are some things there I'd like to pick up.'
Barton shook his head. 'I'm sorry, miss, I can't do that. Mr Griffin only said I was to take you shopping. If you want to make a change in plans, you'll have to take it up with him.'
'But...'
'Sorry, miss.'
Rachel clamped her jaws and forced a smile. 'Don't worry about it,' she said through her teeth. 'Thank you anyway.'
She had managed to keep the smile on her face until the door had closed. Then she'd mouthed a short, harsh word that Grandma had once washed out of her mouth with soap and water.
A gilded prison, she thought, looking around the expensively furnished room. And David Griffin was the warder. Angrily, she'd pulled on her shabby sneakers, pulling the laces so tightly one tore in half. 'Damn,' she muttered, tying the ripped ends together. David couldn't keep her locked up like this. She'd go right downstairs and tell him so. His car was still in the driveway. He...
Rachel had paused with her hand on the doorknob. He'd only smile and tell her she was free to leave whenever she liked. All she had to do was walk away from Jamie. She sank down on the bed, head hanging in defeat. The house was a prison without walls.
She'd waited until David's car finally left the driveway. The temptation to peep and see whether he was alone or with Vanessa Walters was strong, but she'd fought against it. What did it matter to her if the woman had spent the night here or not? The Jaguar had roared out of the driveway while Rachel was eating dinner in her room the previous evening, and it had been almost dawn before she'd heard it return. Not that it mattered. Not that it was any of her business...
At least David was letting her spend more time with Jamie.Emma hadn't said a word when Rachel had scooped the boy from his highchair.
'Morning, sweetness,' she'd said to him, and he'd laughed with delight.
'Mama?'
The single word had wrenched at her heart. 'I'm taking him for a walk,' she had said defiantly, but Emma had only nodded.
'Fine,' she had said placidly. 'Mr Griffin said it would be all right.'
'Mr Griffin said it would be all right,' muttered Rachel now, eyeing the elegant boxes from one of the East Coast's most elegant stores with distaste. Mr Griffin said breathe and everybody breathed. Mr Griffin said jump and everybody jumped. God, the man was awful! Which reminded her.... It was time to get her dinner from Emma and bring it to her room. It was almost six-thirty. He might be home soon.
Rachel got to her feet and started to the door, but halfway there, her sneaker caught on something and she stumbled. The sole of one sneaker had parted company with the rest of the shoe. She hopped back to the bed and sank down on it, staring at her foot. The rubber sole hung from the instep of the sneaker like a dog's tongue on a hot summer day. With a sigh, Rachel grabbed the sole and ripped it free.
'Terrific,' she murmured glumly. That puts the finishing touch to it, she thought, staring at herself in the mirror. Now she looked absolutely perfect. Her oversized sweater was shapeless, and her cords were so thin they were worn through in spots. Without willing it, her gaze travelled across the room to the Lord & Taylor boxes. Sears, the Walters woman had said, but David had known she'd prefer the quiet elegance of Lord & Taylor to the economical briskness of Sears.
What a strange man he was turning out to be! The Hawk was a dove when it came to some
things. He was fierce, yes—but not with his horse or his hawks. Or with his son, Rachel admitted, remembering how easily he and Jamie played together. She could almost picture David as a child, alone, without family, desperate for someone who would care...
'He's your enemy, Rachel,' she said aloud, stalking towards the boxes. 'Don't ever forget that. Just wait until the next time you see him. You can tell him what he can do with these things.'
Of course, she could also swallow her pride and thank him for his thoughtfulness. You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, Rachel. Stop that, Grandma! she thought fiercely, but finally with a shrug of resignation, she bent and opened a box at random. A pale blue cashmere dress lay within folds of white tissue paper. She lifted it in her hands, letting the soft fabric drape across her fingers. It was the right size, the right colour. It couldn't hurt to slip the dress on. Not for just a minute or two.
She was twirling barefoot before the mirror, her hair still wet from the shower, telling herself she was merely checking the dress's length, when there was a knock at the door. Rachel's expression sobered. She snatched up her old sweater, holding it before her like a shield.
'Yes?' she said, opening the door a fraction of an inch.
Emma smiled at her. 'Dinner, miss. Mr Griffin said to tell you it was ready.'
'Is he here tonight?' The woman nodded. 'I guess he doesn't know I eat in my room, Emma. Would you tell him for me, please?'
'He said to tell you to join him out on the terrace for drinks, first, miss.'
'Emma,' Rachel said patiently, 'I said...'
'The boy's asleep. You needn't worry about him. And I'd wear a sweater or a scarf, miss—it's a cool evening.'
'Emma, how do you manage to hear only what you want to? I said...'
The housekeeper's shoulders rose expressively. 'I heard you, Miss Cooper. I'm only doing as I was told.' The tip of the woman's tongue appeared between her lips and she leaned forward. 'He said I wasn't to serve you any more trays, miss,' she whispered. '-You'll have to take your meals downstairs.'
'Did he really?' Rachel's voice was ice. 'Thank you, Emma. We'll see about that.'
She slammed the door and leaned against it. The Lord of the Manor, she thought—that's who David Griffin thought he was. Just hold up the hoop and everybody jumps. Well, she thought grimly, not this time.
Her hands trembled with anger as she stripped off the cashmere dress and tossed it aside.
'The hell with honey, Grandma. I'd rather get my flies with a swatter,' she muttered, pulling her old sweater over her head. 'Only in this case, I wish I had a...a ball bat.' She snatched up her cords and began stepping into them. 'I wish...'
There was the sound of fabric tearing and Rachel looked down at herself in stunned disbelief. Her bare toes had ripped one leg of the old pants from thigh to ankle. Furiously she pulled the cords off and kicked them across the room along with her sweater. With a determined grimace, she snatched up the discarded cashmere dress and slipped it over her head, smoothing the soft folds of the skirt as it settled about her hips.
'In for a penny, in for a pound, right, Grandma?' she murmured, slipping her feet into black kidskin pumps. The heels were foolishly high—not the kind she'd teetered along on at the Rooster, of course—but the shoes fitted well. In fact, everything fitted well, from the dress to the shoes to the lace underthings and sheer stockings.
Moments later, Rachel let the terrace door slam shut behind her. 'Didn't you understand what I told Barton this morning?' she said without preamble. 'I have my own clothing. It's back at my apartment. All somebody has to do is take me there.'
David was standing at the edge of the terrace, watching the sun sink behind the mountains. He turned at the sound of her voice and smiled.
'And good evening to you too, Rachel. I see you decided to join me for dinner. How nice!'
'Don't play with me, Mr Griffin!'
'Is your memory always this poor, or is it my name that's hard to remember?'
'Don't play games with me, David. You issued orders about my joining you for dinner. And you issued orders about this...'
She tugged at the blue dress and he smiled. 'It looks lovely, Rachel. But I don't recall ordering you to wear it this evening. Although it's a good choice...'
'Stop that!' she snapped, stamping her foot against the stone floor. 'You know what I'm talking about. You told Emma I had to join you for dinner.'
'I told Emma I thought it was time you fitted into our routine. When I'm home in the evening, I have dinner at eight. And I have it in the dining-room.'
'I prefer eating in my room. I...'
He turned away and lifted a bottle of wine from a table near the doorway. 'If you're going to spend time with my son during the day, I'll want to hear about the things he does and says. You can report to me during dinner.'
Try and argue with that, Rachel told herself. 'Well then, what about my clothes? I wanted my own things.'
'So did your landlord.' His eyebrows rose as he looked across the terrace at her. 'He rented your apartment to someone else, Rachel. You forgot to pay this month's rent. He says your things are in storage in the basement, but he didn't know which boxes contained your clothing, and I couldn't see shipping all of them here.'
Rachel closed her eyes and then opened them again. 'You could have told me that,' she said weakly.
'I didn't know until this afternoon,' he said pleasantly. 'That's when I telephoned Lord & Taylor.'
'And that's another thing. You could have let me pick out my own replacements.'
David's eyes skimmed over her. 'Why? Don't you like the selection?'
She nodded. 'Yes, of course. But I can't afford these things.' A pink blush rose to her cheeks. 'Miss Walters was right, you know. I'd have been better off at Sears'.'
David grinned. 'Vanessa should learn to sheathe her claws,' he said, easing the cork from the bottle. 'Don't worry about affording them—consider them part of the benefits that come with the job.'
She shook her head. 'No, I couldn't.'
He filled two glasses with dark red wine and handed her one. 'Why not? You got them at the Rooster, didn't you? Health care, dental care, whatever.'
Rachel smiled humourlessly. 'The only perks we got at the Rooster were any sandwiches we could scoff at the end of the night.'
'Well then, your employee benefits are better here. Just think of it that way.' David took a sip of wine and then smiled at her across the rim of the glass. 'Does everything fit?'
'I think so. Miss Walters picked all the right sizes. I guess I'll have to thank her.'
David grinned and one dark eyebrow arched upward. 'I'm the one to thank.' His eyes flickered over her again. 'I'm glad to hear I guessed right.'
She thought of the delicate lace underwear beneath the cashmere dress and flushed with embarrassment.
'What kind of wine is this?' she asked quickly. 'I don't think they carry it at the Rooster.'
He laughed. 'No, I'm sure they don't. It's a '59 Burgundy. I brought a case of it back from France last month. Would you like some more?'
Rachel shook her head. 'No, thank you. Wine always goes right to my head.' She leaned her elbows on the stone wall that enclosed the terrace and stared at the darkening mountains. 'Do you do a lot of travelling?'
'More than I sometimes like.' She glanced up at the nearness of his voice, surprised to find that he'd crossed the terrace to stand beside her, his back leaning against the wall as he stared into the dim recesses of the dining-room. 'I hate like hell to leave this place for too long. I've only had it for a couple of years, and it's just beginning to feel like home.'
She thought of the perfectly decorated, lifeless rooms and nodded. 'I guess it takes time to make a house your own. You can tell a decorator what you want, but it doesn't always work.' The impact of what she'd said struck her and she cleared her throat. 'Not that the house isn't magnificent,' she said quickly. 'It is. It really is.'
He shrugged and turned so that the
y were both gazing out into the evening sky. 'Don't apologise. You're right— the house is too perfect. I guess I lived in dreary hotel rooms and boarding-houses too long to know how to turn a house into a home.'
'You?' She laughed in disbelief. 'Dreary hotel rooms?'
'I'm not even sure that describes some of them. The first company I took over was in Pittsburgh. Have you ever been there?' She shook her head and he smiled. 'I had a room in a hotel that could most charitably be described as one step up from a hovel. There was coal dust in every corner of it—even in the air I breathed. God, I'll never forget trying to get that damned dirt out from under my nails!'
'But you did,' she said with 'a smile.
David nodded. 'It took me half a bar of soap and some skin, but I did. It was a hell of a lot easier than it had been the first time.'
'You said that was the first company you'd taken over.'
'That part of it was new. The coal dust wasn't.' He shifted his weight, turning so that he faced her. 'I was a miner until I was twenty-one, Rachel. Three years in the mines deposits a layer of dirt on a man that never really leaves him.'
Her eyes skimmed his face. 'A miner? But... but you're on Wall Street! They call you a financial genius.'
He laughed softly, enjoying the disbelief he saw registered in her eyes. 'Not every man who's successful on the Street has a degree from Harvard .' A grin tugged at the corners of his mouth. 'I'm not even sure Harvard teaches you how to buy corporations.'
'Neither does working in a coalmine.'
'Yeah,' he sighed, running his fingers through his dark hair, 'that's the truth. God, how I hated it! But there wasn't much choice. When I was eighteen the State said that's it, you're on your own, Griffin. No more State-subsidised foster-homes for you.'
Rachel looked up at him, wondering at the sudden bile in his voice. 'What about the people you lived with? Your foster-parents? Didn't they offer to...'
His teeth flashed whitely in a wolfish grin. 'I know what you're thinking, Rachel. Yeah, I'm sure there are foster-parents who love their kids, but I sure as hell never met any of them. I was just an extra few dollars a month to the ones I stayed with. The State can call them what it likes, but you can't replace a real parent...' He shrugged his shoulders. 'Sorry, I seem to be making speeches tonight.'
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