Desirable Property

by Catherine George

  Verity ran lightly up the path in her heel-less, soft-soled slippers before Niall could protest, glad to hear his car move off before she reached the house. She frowned as she saw a light in her sitting-room, positive she had left the house in darkness when she and Niall left for the party. Shrugging, she unlocked the front door and let herself into the dark hall, every drop of blood in her body seeming to drain away with fright as the sitting-room door opened to disclose a broad-shouldered figure silhouetted against the dim light cast by one single lamp behind it.

  'Don't scream,' said Ben Dysart casually. 'It's only me.'

  Verity sagged, unable to utter a word from shock, let alone scream. She gazed at him wordlessly, breathing hard, and he moved quickly, seizing her arms.

  'Don't faint on me, please.'

  'Faint!' Verity's shock melted into red-hot fury and her eyes blazed into his as she wrenched herself out of his grasp. 'As I've been told many times, I'm not the fainting type, Mr Dysart, but I do have a temper. What exactly are you doing in my house at this time of night—or at any time of night if it comes to that?' She swung away to switch on the hall light and turned to confront him.

  Her intruder just stood there quietly, a faint gleam of admiration on his face as he looked at her flushed, affronted face.

  'I frightened you. I'm sorry. I expected to hear your footsteps on the path outside so that I could warn you I was here, but you took me by surprise.' His eyes dropped to the thin, flat ballet slippers on her feet. 'You normally wear heels.'

  Verity ignored this. 'How did you get in?' she demanded.

  'The kitchen door was unlocked. Are you in the habit of leaving it open?'

  Verity flushed angrily. 'No. I must have overlooked it in my hurry to leave for the party. It took me far longer to dress than usual.'

  Ben's eyes travelled slowly over her, lingering longest where one ringlet had strayed over her shoulder to lie in the hollow of her breasts, just visible above the drawstring that confined her blouse.

  'The result was more than worth it,' he said, something in his voice deepening her angry colour.

  'We've now established how you got in,' she said coldly, flicking away the offending curl. 'Now perhaps you'd be good enough to tell me why.'

  'I would have thought that was obvious,' he said instantly, with a sudden glint of white teeth. He took the tiny safety-pin from a pocket in his leather waistcoat and held it up. 'I came to return this—and claim my reward.'

  They stared at each other in silence. Verity was finding it difficult to hide the agitation she felt, as her breasts rose and fell quickly, cursing herself for her lack of aplomb. It must have something to do with the clothes she was wearing, she thought wildly, perhaps Victorian palpitations went with the costume, or did one only suffer from those if one wore a tight corset? The absurdity of her thoughts, and a sudden picture in her mind of the spectacle they presented revived Verity's sense of humour.

  'You look like the villain of the piece about to ravish the village maiden,' she said, smiling at him for the first time.

  Ben moved a little nearer. 'In the stories I've read help always arrived in the nick of time—this is where the hero charges through the door with his axe, or whatever.' An answering smile lit the intensity of his eyes, and Verity looked away.

  'How do you know the pin is mine, anyway?' she asked lightly.

  'I watched your face. You were laughing and relaxed until then, but you stood so still when your Mr Gordon held up the pin it was obvious—to me, at least.' His quiet assurance irritated Verity intensely.

  'Wouldn't it have been a little awkward if Niall had come in with me just now?' she asked tartly.

  Ben shrugged. 'You'd never have known. At the sound of voices I'd have disappeared like a thief in the night.' He smiled a little at his own melodrama, and moved nearer.

  For once in her life Verity was at a complete loss. She had no idea what to do. If it were any other man she would be offering him a drink, or telling him she was tired and it was late. But no other man was likely to be here under the same circumstances. In her indecision she said the first thing that came into her head, taking the bull by the horns.

  'Oh very well—I suppose as you paid £20 for the privilege you may as well take your reward and perhaps I can then see you off the premises.' She closed her eyes and held up her face with sacrificial resignation. There was silence in the room as she waited, and after a time she opened her eyes to find him watching her in amusement.

  'Thank you just the same, Miss Marsh, but I've never found it necessary to buy a lady's favours. I paid £20 to the charity, not to you.'

  Verity could have scratched his eyes out with enjoyment.

  'Mr Dysart,' she said haughtily. 'It's late, I've had a busy day and feel too tired for silly games. I can't imagine what kind of impulse led you to force your way in here tonight, but frankly it's common trespass and I'd be obliged if you'd now leave.'

  'I felt the need to retaliate,' he answered coolly, leaning casually against the lintel of the sitting-room door as if prepared for a friendly chat.

  'Retaliation for what, for heaven's sake!'

  'I dislike being disposed of like the proverbial pound of tea.' His eyes gleamed cold in the subdued light, 'I have an irrational dislike of being told to run away and play. I prefer to choose my own playtime—and my own playmate.'

  Verity moved nearer, smiling with malice. 'Oh, I see! And there was I thinking you'd be only too pleased to have lunch with Gussie, particularly as that was the last I saw of you for the day.'

  Ben's mouth tightened. 'Just for the records, Miss Marsh, I saw Gussie politely off the premises, then had a pub lunch with John Randall, after which I spent the rest of the afternoon upstairs in the auction room.'

  This took the wind out of Verity's sails for a moment. 'Well now that's all cleared up,' she said briskly, 'I think it's time you left. I humbly apologise for any offence caused yesterday, I've offered a kiss in return for that ridiculous safety pin—and was turned down— so now I think we can say it's honours even and good night.'

  With a negligent lunge he moved swiftly and caught her in his arms.

  'I think I'll change my mind,' he said softly, staring down into her startled face. 'Perhaps I'll cash in just slightly on my twenty pounds.' Then he kissed her.

  The kiss was neither prolonged, nor violent, nor could Verity honestly say the arms that held her were rough or constraining. She remained quiet in his grasp, making no resistance, but Ben seemed to find her impassivity resistance enough and raised his head after only a few moments to look down wryly into the wide hazel eyes fixed on him with such dispassionate detachment.

  'It's a terrible put-down to find you weighing me up instead of joining in,' he said wryly. 'Would you mind telling me what you were thinking?'

  'No, I don't mind. But I think you will.' Verity's eyes never wavered.

  'Try me.'

  'It was just that after watching you with Gussie last week I suppose I expected something more exciting,' she said unwisely, a tremor of disquiet running through her as she saw the unholy flicker in Ben's eyes.

  'Fighting talk, Verity,' he murmured, his grasp tightening, and bent his head to hers again. This time it was different. His mouth took control, its pressure prising her unwilling lips apart as one iron-hard arm held her still, the other hand sliding her blouse off her shoulders to caress their smooth contours before finding her breasts, his fingers learning their shape and fullness with a surety of touch that brought the blood drumming to her temples as she fought to free the hands he kept trapped between their bodies. In vain she tried to twist her head away, but he was too strong and too expert, and, she realised with misgiving, no longer in such complete control, at least of himself. His breathing was ragged as he released her suddenly and strode to the door, one of his hands tugging at the scarf round his throat as if it were choking him. Verity stared at his back in breathless resentment, her cheeks flaming as she pulled her blouse up to cover herself, bu
t he kept his face averted.

  'I apologise,' he said tersely, and left without a backward glance.

  Verity sat down abruptly on the stairs, staring with dislike at the frivolous mobcap and ringlets which had come adrift during the struggle, and now lay on the hall carpet. Ben's attentions had caused no damage to the borrowed blouse, thankfully, but she had learned one or two things from the last few minutes, the glaring lesson being that there were times when it paid to keep one's thoughts to oneself. Wearily she went to bed, but passed a very restless night, the few snatches of sleep she was granted full of dreams where she was being chased by some monster through trees that joined in the pursuit.

  It was still early when Verity heard faint sounds and assumed Jenny must have come home early from the hospital. It looked like being another hot day, and it seemed sensible to get up and do a few of her household chores early to leave the rest of the day free for sunbathing. Determinedly she put all thoughts of the night before from her mind and dressed in shorts and suntop before going into the kitchen to fill the kettle.

  'Verity!'

  She turned round in surprise from slicing bread for toast, to see Henrietta in the doorway looking rather diffident.

  'Hett! What are you doing here? Jenny said you were staying the night with someone.'

  Henrietta nodded guiltily. 'I was, darling, and I meant to leave a note to say I'd changed my mind, but I forgot.'

  Verity grinned and motioned the girl to a chair.

  'Have some breakfast—I'll make more toast. Didn't you feel like socialising?'

  Henrietta wrapped her rather tatty silk kimono tightly round her slender waist and sat down, accepting a cup of tea gratefully.

  'No, Vee, I didn't. It was so hot I felt done in after the performance, so I just came home early and fell into bed, but I woke up later when I heard noises. I was half asleep, really, heaven knows why I decided to investigate—sheer stupidity. I mean what use would I have been if it had been burglars?' She gulped the rest of her tea, looking embarrassed. 'I crept out on the landing and there you were in the clutches of some bloke straight out of D. H. Lawrence! I lurked about upstairs in an awful state, wondering if you were about to be raped—after all, darling, if you were you might have been quite happy about it, for all I knew! But then I heard your visitor take off in a hurry so I went back to bed. I didn't like to come down in case, well, you didn't feel like company.'

  The funny side of it struck Verity all of a heap. She lay back in her chair, tears of laughter running down her face, Henrietta joining in involuntarily, though somewhat puzzled. Eventually Verity calmed down and explained.

  'It's just that the other day I was reflecting—with some regret I may add—that in all my twenty-six years no one had ever, well, smouldered over me, then last night, when someone did I was quite frightened—a big girl like me! I rather brought it on myself, by saying something idiotic, besides which the poor man had paid £20 for the honour, so I could hardly blame him.' At the look on Henrietta's face Verity went off into whoops again until the other girl threatened her with grievous bodily harm if an explanation wasn't forthcoming immediately. When she heard Ben had walked into the house through the unlocked back door her eyes grew round.

  'You mean he'd been there for some time! Well, that's nice—perhaps we ought to start a security check every night, landlady.'

  'I'm sorry,' said Verity remorsefully. 'I'm not usually so careless, but I spent so much time fiddling with the fancy dress I overlooked it.'

  'Did you like it?' asked Henrietta eagerly, then gave Verity a mischievous little smile. 'From my one brief look it was a tremendous success, but I was rather more taken by your friend's get-up—did I actually see gaiters?'

  'Yes. Very rustic,' said Verity briefly. 'I've been very rude and forgotten to thank you for the clothes, Hett, they were marvellous.'

  'No trouble, darling, but don't change the subject. Who was that gorgeous hunk of man?'

  'The one who's been under my feet all week in the office. Ben Dysart.'

  CHAPTER FOUR

  After their disturbed night both girls were glad to laze around in the garden for most of the day. Jenny came home for a few hours' sleep, then departed to lunch with her Richard while the other two did a little desultory gardening and picnicked on the lawn. Henrietta went indoors to wash her hair later in the afternoon while Verity ironed the newly washed borrowed plumes. She felt hot and restless afterwards, her lack of sleep beginning to tell, so she stretched out on a garden lounger in the sun with a book, but the words kept running into each other and finally she gave up. Seconds later Verity was fast asleep. Henrietta tip-toed past on her way out for the evening and decided to leave her undisturbed. Verity lay motionless, her sleep untroubled by dreams as the sun crept lower in the sky, her skin taking on a perceptibly deeper tone from its rays.

  She presented a tempting sight to the man who came round the side of the house a little later on. Ben Dysart stood looking at the sleeping girl, retreated, hesitated, then finally went back.

  'Miss Marsh,' he said softly.

  There was no response. He lowered himself to the grass by her feet and touched her instep gently. Her foot moved slightly and she muttered something, but her eyes stayed closed. Ben smiled and grasped her foot in his hand, shaking it slightly. Verity's eyes opened wide and stared into his. She blinked sleepily and smiled.

  'Is there such a phrase as "unfoot me"?' she asked, yawning, then gathered herself together with an effort and sat up, shaking her hair back.

  For Ben Dysart it was by no means the first time he had watched a woman wake up, but it was the first time he had seen one so unselfconscious about the process. Verity made no attempt to tidy herself, obviously waiting for him to speak. He said abruptly, 'I've come to apologise for my behaviour last night.'

  Verity stared at him owlishly. 'You apologised last night.'

  'I didn't mean it last night; today I do. Sincerely.'

  Verity pulled her chair to an upright position and waved him to the other one nearby. He thanked her and pulled it round so that he was facing her. The conventional white shirt and grey trousers of today were in direct contrast with the flamboyantly earthy clothes of the night before, but he looked no less attractive thought Verity idly, then realised he was speaking to her.

  'I acted on impulse last night,' he said quietly. 'I behaved in a way quite outside my usual way of doing things. I don't like that kind of party, for one thing, but my mother has quite a lot to do with the orphanage and coaxed me into putting in an appearance. She hunted up the clothes in the attic, so that I wouldn't feel conspicuous.'

  'You failed there.' Verity grinned at him. 'You looked so authentic you put everyone else in the shade.'

  'Wrong,' he-stated, returning her smile. 'Your own outfit won hands down.' He looked at her consideringly, head on one side.

  'I'm not normally given to ringlets and frills—we were probably both out of character,' said Verity lightly.

  'You may be right; I had no intention of bidding at that auction, I assure you,' he said wryly, 'but when that safety-pin appeared I was certain it was yours.'

  'You paid a very fancy price for a mere safety-pin!'

  'All in a good cause. Am I allowed to keep it?'

  They looked at each other for a moment in silence.

  'Are you being facetious, Mr Dysart?' she asked.

  'Not in the least—and would it be too much of an effort to say my first name?' he asked impatiently.

  'No.'

  'Then say it!'

  'In my own good time.'

  Ben laughed indulgently. 'Have it your own way. Will you have dinner with me tonight?'

  Verity was floored. 'Well—I don't know—I don't normally—' she heard herself floundering, annoyed.

  'You don't usually what? Accept invitations from uncivilised boors who leap on you at the slightest provocation?' he asked with a wry smile.

  'But it wasn't without provocation,' she pointed out. 'I should have
kept quiet.'

  'And I shouldn't have been in your house in the first place,' he added. 'I ran the Griersons home, do you know them? They live about a mile away, towards Alveston, and when I was coming back along the road here I had the bright idea of paying you a visit.'

  'At one-thirty in the morning!' Verity shook her head reprovingly.

  'I told you I was off my rocker last night, one way and another. I tapped on your front door with no result, then I thought I heard something round the side of the house and went to investigate and found your kitchen door slightly open.'

  Verity stared at him in horror. 'Actually open? I've never done that before.'

  'If I were you I'd make sure you never do it again,' said Ben dryly, a glint in his eye. 'You don't want any more strange men frightening you to death, I imagine.'

  'No indeed,' she said wholeheartedly. 'When you appeared in my sitting-room doorway I nearly expired with fright.'

  'Because it was me personally?' he asked with interest.

  'No, of course not, I thought it was someone breaking and entering. I'm not the nervous type, but that was a bit much. Silhouetted against the light like that you looked very menacing, I assure you.'

  'I'm sorry. I was a crass idiot.' Ben paused, his eyes very direct as they met hers. 'I don't think I'm entirely to blame for the second transgression, though, Verity. That was a hell of a challenge to throw at a man.'

  'I know, I know,' she said hurriedly, her eyes falling. 'I've admitted it already, so we'll forget all about that bit, shall we?'

  'Easier said than done. Trying to forget about it gave me a very bad night,' he said with feeling.

  Verity shifted uncomfortably in her chair, hoping the sunset was sufficient to account for the heightened colour in her face. Ben sat relaxed, legs crossed, looking at her.

  'Well,' he prompted. 'Will you come out for a meal?'

  'I don't really think it's a good idea—' she said slowly.

  'You mean Gordon might object?' he cut in coldly.

  'No, I don't. Niall is not in a position to object.' Verity sighed, deciding there was no point in being evasive. 'It's Gussie I'm thinking of.'